"Where do you want to go now, Psyche?" Tsugaru asked the smaller man walking by his side. Black hair absorbed the lights of the city as pink eyes reflected the shining neon that illuminated the streets in a haze. It was the height of summer, and even in the night the air was drowning the humans of the city in humidity.
"Let's go to an ice-cream place. It's so hot!" Psyche exclaimed as he fanned himself with an uchiwa fan they'd gotten from a store's opening promotion. Tsugaru agreed silently, and they continued walking through the crowds of people. Tsugaru stopped outside the tiny hole-in-the-wall ice cream parlor and Psyche smiled and dashed inside, knowing from memory what Tsugaru would want. Taking a long drag from the tobacco in his pipe, he exhaled with a feeling of tranquility not mirrored in the rushing crowds only a foot away from where he leaned against the building. He watched the night sky, unaware of the trio of punks making their way towards him.
"Ha! Look at that, guys! It's a monk!" One of them exclaimed as he pointed to Tsugaru. His buddies snickered and whacked their friend on the back.
"Nah, I bet he's just some fancy gigolo! Look, he's even got an opium pipe!"
"So he's a drug dealer too? Hey, Mr. Dealer, you got any good weed for us? Kahahaha!" Their ugly faces sneered as they formed a triangle around Tsugaru, who simply kept leaning against the building and smoking as if they weren't there.
"Not going to answer us, Buddha? Ah?" One got up in his face, poking his cheek with a disgusting finger. Tsugaru just stared down at him with calm eyes that hid his annoyance.
"Ha, bet he's so high up he can't even get that we're going to mug him, huh boys?" The ring leader, who sported a particularly repulsive grin and a lopsided Mohawk stalked forward and put a greasy hand on his shoulder. Tsugaru opened his eyes and glared at the teenager, wondering if he should just deal with these guys before Psyche ever had to know they existed, but a sudden flash and scream stopped his thoughts in their tracks. The punk with his back to the parlor door was sprawled on the ground, trying to clutch at his bleeding back. A long, jagged cut had sliced open his shirt and bit into the flesh beneath, spilling blood everywhere. The two punks looked up with surprise to see a thin man with two ice cream cones in one hand and the knife in the other, glaring at them. His eyes were blazing red, demonic and sinister. His smirk was thinner than his blade, and he twisted his heel into the cut as he stepped over their fallen comrade.
"Tsugaru, hold these please?" Psyche handed his stunned boyfriend the ice cream cones, turning to face the two belligerent men. "Just so you know, I'm going to hurt you now~!"
"A-Ah…So you're gonna have one of your little bitches come protect you, Mr. Pimp? How bout I just take this feisty little thing home instea-"
"Never," Tsugaru had instantly moved past Psyche and wrapped a hand around the speaker's throat, his eyes the color of ice, "say such insulting things to Psyche."
"UYAAAAAAAA!" The punk flew up into the night sky and disappeared without a trace, bystanders standing still in sheer amazement of seeing a man in a kimono punch a delinquent sky high. His remaining friend had attempted to flee while Tsugaru was busy, but Psyche just caught him by the scruff and slammed a punch into his gut followed by a strong kick into the brick wall. There he lay, slumped over and groaning. Psyche jumped on him a few times before running over to Tsugaru.
"Are you okay?" The serious tone in his voice made the rage boiling in the other calm out of shock. Psyche was always so innocent and sweet, yet here he'd just seen him draw blood and fight for Tsugaru's sake. Knowing that felt like a greater shame than losing his temper over the jabs of a public school dropout. He surrounded Psyche with his arms, the long folds of his kimono wrapping around the other like curtains.
"Psyche…" He trailed off, speaking into the other's hair. Psyche didn't understand what Tsugaru wanted from him, but he returned the hug and drew him closer regardless. Was the idea of him fighting unattractive? Did he offend Tsugaru by getting in the way of his fight? But those bastards were going to hurt Tsugaru. Even if he could defend himself, Psyche would never let anyone but himself touch Tsugaru. So it didn't matter. None of that mattered. Tsugaru was okay, and he was his. That was the only fact in the world.
"I'm glad you're okay, Tsugaru." Psyche spoke against Tsugaru's clavicle, his breath warm and tickling on the exposed skin. The large hand that patted his head was assurance.
"You didn't have to fight, Psyche. I don't want to see you get hurt because of me."
"I won't let anyone talk about you that way. I love you." Psyche's eyes were stern and uncompromising. Even if Tsugaru hadn't already known that Psyche hated lies and tricks, he would have believed him.
"Tsugaru hates fighting, so let me be your weapon. I'll get rid of anyone who hurts you."
"Psyche, you…" Tsugaru fell silent. Psyche was usually so nice to everyone…
"Is it unattractive? Are you afraid of me now?" Psyche lifted trembling eyes to stare into Tsugaru's. The hand on his head ruffled his hair as Tsugaru chuckled.
"That's my line. You've stayed with me this long…" Even if he tried to explain it, he knew he couldn't articulate the miracle within that to Psyche. When he stayed, even after that once, Tsugaru had thought he was insane. And he was. Psyche was totally unstable and completely his. And he would love and accept Psyche's darkness, since it had been Psyche who saved him from his own… He felt Psyche grab his hand and pull it up to his lips, grazing the knuckles with their promise.
"I don't want Tsugaru to fear me. I want you to love me. But if you can't do that, it's fine. I'll love you enough for both of us." He spoke against Tsugaru's hand, ignoring the growing commotion of the crowd and the sound of sirens in the distance. His gaze traveled up from the hand he grasped to Tsugaru's deep blue eyes, and what he saw made him smile and lean into the other.
"Let's go home. The police are coming."
"Don't worry, Psyche." He entwined his arm and hand with Psyche's and stepped over the twitching delinquents and splattered ice cream. He leaned down and whispered into Psyche's ear with a baritone that made a fervent blush spread over Psyche's face, "I also won't let anyone speak poorly of you. Since you are mine."
The police arrived to a scene soaked in melted ice cream and blood, and for a second they all asked themselves earnestly within their soul of souls what the fuck they'd ever done to deserve something like this.
*An uchiwa is probably the best thing the country of Japan ever contributed to the world, in my opinion. It's a wide, uncollapsable fan that kinda looks like a lilypad, and it keeps you so cool.