Purple Sundays

Summary: Hiashi had everything a regular man would want. Two beautiful daughters, position, wealth, and power. He had everything, save one. (Hiashi x Genma )

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Kishimoto Masashi. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: This story contains male/male relationship.


Prologue

He was quickly reaching the latter half of his life, he already had a family, and he headed the strongest and most noble House of Hyuuga. So it had to be madness that brought his feet to the front of that person's door. It had to be a sort of disease of mind that moved his hand, making it knock the wooden surface. It had to be, what other explanation was there?

The door was opened and a weary face greeted him. "You came," his host said a-matter-of-factly.

Hyuuga Hiashi nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Well, come inside. I have no food or anything, but I still have some sake left."

"You were drinking," Hiashi finally said, eyeing the usually good-looking brunet. He looks like hell.

"Yeah."

Shiranui Genma closed the door after him. They were standing on the narrow corridor of Genma's small apartment, a place that had been familiar to Hiashi for several weeks now. There was nothing much in this bachelor's living space. A mattress, strewn blankets, and a desk. The fridge was in the kitchen, along with several rarely used appliances. That was it, normal. One thing, however, that Hiashi always found disturbing was the cleanliness. The apartment was immaculate to the point of sterility. No bachelor should be subjected to such state of nothingness, Hiashi often thought when he visited Genma from time to time.

"How's the family?" Genma asked, walking to the kitchen. "Drinks?" he called from there. A clinking sound of ceramic against ceramic was heard.

"They're fine, and no, thank you. It's still too early," Hiashi said.

Genma put the cups back.

"Did they know you were coming here?"

"No."

"As it should be," Genma replied. "Imagine what will happen if they know."

"They won't," Hiashi said.

"Of course," Genma said while walking into the bathroom, and added, "make yourself comfortable. I'll be done soon."

He opened the tap and let water run for a while before disrobing and stepping into the hot shower. White steam escaped from the half-closed door and Hiashi could hear splashes of water.

"How was your mission?" Hiashi asked.

"What?" A muffled sound.

"How was your mission?" Hiashi asked again, this time louder.

"One casualty, but it went pretty well before that," Genma answered amidst the shower noise.

"Who was it?"

"A rookie. Cho something, I forgot. Chonou or Choji," Genma said. The sound of water suddenly stopped and the younger man stepped outside the bathroom with only a white towel around his waist. Some droplets of water still clung to his damp hair.

"Akimichi Choji?"

"Yeah. That's the one. Fat kid," Genma said. "What, you know him?"

Hiashi paused for a while before answering. "I know his father."

"Oh."

"They are good people," Hiashi said.

"I'm sure they are."

"I should give them my condolences then."

"The funeral's tomorrow," Genma said. He had thrown his towel into the laundry basket and was wearing nothing. Hiashi could see the numerous scars on Genma's muscled back. They were coming from his shoulders down to his hips, sometimes lacing. There was one situated dangerously close to his groin. A scar tissue from a knife wound.

"Monday? How odd," Hiashi said.

"It's a good day, apparently."

"Are you coming?" Hiashi asked.

"Yes," Genma said, walking to where Hiashi was standing. He wrapped a pair of arms around Hiashi's chest and held him. It was a loose embrace, one that Hiashi could easily escape from. Instead, Hiashi put a hand on Genma's back, drawing him closer.

"You know," Genma began, "that kid didn't even know he'd died."

"It's better that way," Hiashi said.

"He was too eager."

Hiashi tightened his hold on Genma. The naked man's skin was cold, but Hiashi knew that Genma was comfortable with the chill. He brushed a wet strand of hair away from Genma's face and tucked it behind an ear.

"It's always hard," Hiashi said.

"Yeah."