This is Haruka/Kantarou but it's pretty mild, still, if you don't like shounen-ai I suggest that you hit the back button.
It was red. Maybe crimson, vermilion, scarlet, whatever shade one wished to pick, it was still red. It was also hot, and sticky, and smelt faintly of iron, but most of all it was red. Red like blood. It was blood. Kantarou's blood to be exact and it was on his hands.
It wasn't his fault though; there was no way that he could be at fault. He had been having a dream, a nightmare, and Kantarou just had to rush in and wake him up in the middle of it. Before he knew that he was out of the dream there was blood on his hands and the image of the oni he was fighting faded to reveal Kantarou, blood pouring from where he had cut through with his claws.
Shock faded into acceptance as the red-eyed human smiled weakly, his mouth parted slightly, pronouncing syllables too faint to hear before he collapsed.
It was Kantarou's fault. He had always been a little reckless. It was his fault for walking into his room. Surely as a ethnologist he should know to never interrupt a tengu in the middle of a nightmare, what was he even doing in his room? It was his fault, always too concerned about others, always so…so Kantarou. It was his fault. It was.
Slowly, Haruka backed away from the blood seeping across his room as if it would kill him if he touched it. Who ever knew that a human could have so much blood?
You can't find your precious item, rest one turn.
Dead, was a word that floated to his mind. He never thought about what would happen when Kantarou died, even though he knew deep down that as a human the ethnologist would eventually grow old and die, but not like this.
You still can't find your precious item, rest ten turns.
But Kantarou was still way too young.
You have destroyed your precious item with your own hands. Start again.
Cold sweat coated his skin. It was freezing. Youko had said that it would be a cold night. Hastily, he glanced around the room. There was no blood on the floor or on his hands, no dead bodies either. So, had that been all a dream?
Twisting around, he faced the closed door leading to the adjacent room. Kantarou's room. Hesitating for a moment, he slipped from under his covers and silently stole into the next room.
Moonlight basked the sleeping figure in cold blue light, caressed his pale skin and dyed his silver hair with the colour of pale sapphires. He lay there, on the floor, his pillow and blankets strewn across his body.
Taking a step forward, he could just spy sweat trickling across the sleeping figure's face, the slight tossing and turning that indicated a restless sleep.
Was he having a nightmare too? Haruka didn't think that it would hurt to wake him, after all Kantarou didn't have claws, the worst he would get was probably a thump, but that was a risk that he was prepared to take. Kneeling by Kantarou's side, his hand stretched into the blue moonlight.
Heavily lashed eyelids fluttered open to reveal the two rubies they had curtained. They blinked a few times, working the last remnants of sleep away.
Kantarou's head turned to face the black-winged tengu, staring at the oni-eater bathed half in moonlight half in shadow with a quizzical expression. "Why are you…"
"Nothing," Haruka stood and turned but his master's voice drew him back before he could reach the door.
"Did you have a nightmare?"
He paused, not turning back to face those red eyes, not quite wanting to leave the room. Kantarou's patient silence lingered in the air. Beads of sweat still shone against Kantarou's pale face.
"You were having one, weren't you?" Haruka slowly returned his gaze to Kantarou.
A faint smile tugged at the ethnologist's lips. One that seemed neither happy or sad. "You disappeared suddenly and I couldn't find you," he outstretched his hand towards the tengu. Maybe he was afraid of Haruka slipping through his fingers, disappearing like in his dream.
"Well, as you can plainly see, I'm here, aren't I?" Haruka sighed. Sometimes, Kantarou could be such a child. "A dream's a dream," he said, much for his own benefit as for Kantarou's. He wasn't going anywhere and he wasn't going to do anything to Kantarou. It was foolish for him to have been so shaken, and he was meant to be the sensible one.
Kantarou said nothing, and neither did he. What a sight they must be. Kantarou lying in bed, looking up at him, his hand still outstretched, and he, staring back at him. Silence can often speak a thousand words.
He didn't feel like going back to his room. He didn't think that he was in any mood to sleep again despite what he had told Kantarou about dreams being dreams.
What was he doing there? Why was he standing there like someone deaf and dumb? His lips parted to speak, but he quickly snatched the words back from the tip of his tongue. On second thoughts, perhaps it would not be so wise to say something.
"A dream's a dream," Kantarou echoed Haruka's words. "But still…would you stay with me?" Red eyes were silently pleading.
He sighed, giving his grudging acquiescence and settled down besides the top of the bed, allowing Kantarou's arms to wrap around him and pull him under the blankets.
Under the heavy cotton, Kantarou curled into a loose ball, resting his head against Haruka's chest, and Haruka, to his eternal surprise, found his own arms wrapping around Kantarou's smaller frame, pulling the younger boy closer.
He watched the lashes fall over Kantarou's ruby eyes. A "Good night, Haruka," was mumbled into his chest, before he too felt it safe to let his eyes flutter shut.
It would seem that they would both be having sweet dreams tonight.
Done, and it was only two pages long. Please forgive my many grammar mistakes, which plague my writing. I've been thinking of doing another Tactics fic so feedback is much appreciated.