It comes. Like a whispering wind through a warm, silent night. The feeling that he was going to die. There existed a certain stillness during those moments- eternal and yet so short- and his mind wandered through the vast realm between life and death as if he were captured in a lucid dream.

Then a strange current washed over his soul, carrying him away from the body that laid so motionless on that bare ground. Lifted him up, threw him down, east, then west, west, west, west. Toward the setting sun, and east again to where the body lay. An empty vessel. Rich brown hair. Jade eyes. Empty as the rain fell and wet his deathly pale skin.

And seeing himself that way scared him. So he reached and reached, fighting the invisible tides that were pulling him farther and farther away from the shore he desperately sought. For a while he felt like he was drowning in the sky; like a leaf so mercilessly carried and battered by harsh gusts of wind.

But it was useless. And he could already see the walls of heaven glistening before his eyes. Tall, strong, and sealed shut. They far from beckoned and resonated irritatingly as he touched the smooth surface of radiant gold. Verdant eyes squeezed shut in frustration, and his translucent hand pounded on the gates. No one answered, but upon bringing his ear against he door, he heard whispers: Marshal Tenpou has come back no that can’t be him stop don’t open the gate not yet why has he come Marshal Tenpou not possible who does he think he is what nerve has he and without but where are they no he is alone...

Alone.

But no, he would never let me...

And suddenly a violent rush of air threw him to the ground. Weighed down upon him as if the entire sky were imploding around him. Swallowing him in a tornado of blurred pictures that came and went came and went. Books and wine, cigarettes and papers, battles and soldiers, cinnamon and the sun, sets of eyes all so familiar, the voices, the butterflies that glowed in the moonlight. Yes, those and the kisses. Wanting. Needing. Giving. Claiming. Mine. You are mine. Forever. Mine. And no one else’s. His lips tingled with memory and before he knew it, he was falling. Barreling through the sky like a shooting star. Falling falling and burning burning until there was nothing but dirt in front of him. And rain. Gently falling. And his body being cradled in the strong arms of another. He fell and crashed into that lifeless piece of flesh and brought back its breath.

Hakkai bolted up from the bed, breathing heavily and clutching the sweat soaked sheets that were tangled around his half naked body. He buried his face in his shaking hands then did the second most natural thing he could ever do: he smiled.

“Don’t tell me. Hell is a lot more proletarian that you thought.” said a voice through the darkness, tainted with the scent of cigarette smoke. “And dammit, stop smiling.”

The brunette looked to where the weak glow of a lighter illuminated twin scars framed by blood red hair. Eyes with the same searing heat of the sun focused on him with a sadness he had grown so used to recognizing. Next to him on the bed, Gojyo chucked softly and absently ran a hand through Hakkai’s now-damp hair.

“You almost died, you idiot. Again.” explained the taller man, his relief covered by mild irritation. “Heh. I should’ve gotten used to this by now. Almost dying’s become a hobby.”

“Sumimasen...”

“Stop apologizing while you’re at it.” Gojyo cut him off gruffly. “One last thing.”

“Hai?”

“Don’t try to go on ahead anymore. Ain’t gonna be fun if I’m not there.”

“Ah...Hai.”

Hakkai fell back into the pillows, realizing too late the bandages that bound his torso. Pain shot through every part of his body and his breath hitched. Faintly, ever so faintly, he could feel fleeting kisses across his forehead, his temples, jaw, his pain twisted mouth and sweat sheened throat. /Shhhh. It’s okay. Relax./ They said. And he did, settling himself in the embrace that was the only thing keeping his soul where it was.

“Ahead...” the brunette murmured. “Nothing much there, for now.”

For good reasons, Gojyo didn’t answer. After an ambiguous grunt, he took out a fresh packet of cigarettes to keep him going until Hakkai fell into a safe sleep.

“Um, Gojyo?”

“What?”

“May I have one?”

“What the fuck?” the half youkai started and started dumbly at the smiling face that said ‘I’m not kidding.’ There was no arguing, but of course, there could have been perfectly natural causes for this slight derangement. Hakkai never smoked. “Did you get a concussion too?”

“I don’t think so, but then again, I have been unconscious for quite a while. I wouldn’t know.”

Incredulous silence followed.

Oh well. Hakkai turned over to face the window with easily accepted resignation, but was stopped by the tightening of the arm around his waist and a tanned hand softly prying his lips apart to place a cigarette between them.

“You, are one weird guy, you know that.” commented Gojyo to the other youkai as he bent over him and lit the cigarette with his own.

“Hmm.”

Smoke and companionable silence. Yes. This felt right. But maybe he did have a concussion. Hakkai mused at the thought. Either that or he was hallucinating. But he was positive that what he was smoking was really and truly only a cigarette. Nothing else.

But then...what was that hovering above them?

A butterfly. Its wings reflecting the light of a celestial moon. Dancing merrily before his eyes and happy to be finally noticed once more. It danced. Gracefully through the smoke imbibed darkness. It rose. It fell. Rose, then fell...