What the fuck am I doing?

The question had been on Kentai’s mind for weeks now. He’d intended to leave the doomed town of Tiguri after allowing himself a night or two to rest and resupply. Then he would head over the mountains into Baisho Province where the bulk of Tzulan’s savage horde couldn’t easily follow. Meeting Wujun had dashed those plans.

He didn’t care about the rumors circulating that Kibesu had fallen, that the warlord’s army was pressing north to claim every scrap of land between the mountains and the river. Kentai felt as though he had to remain, had to be sure Wujun escaped the coming slaughter, and yet every time he had the chance to bring it up, the nerve escaped him. The swordsman didn’t want such darkness to interrupt their time together.

Kentai buried his face in his palm, fingers tangling in his messy bangs, and growled his frustration. At this hour of the day, the modest inn was empty. Not even the staff were here, for they had heard the same news he had; death was coming as a conquering army. Those who could were attempting to flee over the mountains, despite them being unmapped and home to many dangers. The hope of safety on the other side would lure many to gruesome ends, but no fate was worse than what awaited those who remained.

Horrific deeds were done to those Tzulan’s horde defeated. Though he had not been there himself, Kentai had heard plenty of tales about the decade long Taiku War. It had been more than two years since its end and still men whispered of it on dark nights. How Warlord Tzulan had accepted their surrender and then ridden into the last remaining Taiku encampment under the guise of peace but instead, slaughtered everything. Not just men and women, but children and livestock, as well. To anyone foolish enough to make the journey, the Taiku Chieftain’s body, now little more than bones, was on display at Tzulan’s fortress in the Rotted Wood. It served as a reminder to those who would dare stand against him of the end they would suffer.

In all his years, Kentai had seen a lot of brutality and still, the senseless killing did not sit right with him. Perhaps it was because of his own curse that he understood so well the weight of death. Taking a life tainted you in a way he didn’t believe could be washed away. That blood coated your very soul, the ramifications like ripples in a pond, affecting more than just one life…

Springing up from the table, the swordsman stalked over to the empty bar and, leaning over it, swiped the first bottle his fingers came into contact with. Since the innkeeper and his family were gone, there was no need to wait for service or to bother paying. As a last courtesy, the old man had told Kentai to make himself at home and when he finally departed, to leave the door open for any poor sod who might need a place to lay his head.

Stupid, altruistic fool…

Kentai knew without a doubt that once he left, the inn would be picked clean by vagrants and looters. Not that it mattered, he supposed. When Tzulan’s army came through, the place would likely get torched along with the rest of the town. Grunting at his own sour mood, he popped the cork on the bottle and raised it to his lips.

Shit. Wine.

He’d much have preferred ale or something a little stronger, but booze was booze at this point. Gulping it down, he chuckled inwardly at how appalled a more refined individual would be at the sight of him chugging wine instead of sipping it. The thought reminded him that drinking alone was no fun and he immediately lowered the bottle again as his dreary ruminations crept back to the forefront of his mind.

What the fuck am I doing?

He needed a new plan, one that took Wujun into account. Regardless of having just met the young man, Kentai was not about to abandon him. He still didn’t know what he was exactly, Shadow or Zosara, but ultimately he knew it didn’t matter. There was something inexplicable about Wujun that Kentai was drawn to, a feeling deep down in his gut urging him to protect the kid no matter what.

If he didn’t consider it to be a lot of nonsense, he might attribute his feelings to fate or destiny, but to Kentai such notions were rubbish.

Setting the bottle back down on the bar top, the swordsman let out a sigh and wiped absently at his mouth. They couldn’t stay here, he knew that for certain, but could he take Wujun across the mountains? Would his household allow it? Surely, they had a contingency in mind when coming to Tiguri and were already making their own preparations to leave. If that were the case, then he could simply tag along, whether they liked it or not.

“Kentai!”

The sound of Wujun’s voice and the door slamming open, startled him. His hand fell to the hilt of his utzu, and he spun toward the commotion, ready to draw and defend himself if necessary. Once his mind caught up to his body, however, he allowed himself to relax a fraction.

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“Wujun, it’s early.” He glanced out the window to be sure he hadn’t lost track of the time and saw it was barely early evening. “What’s wrong?”

“They want me to leave!” The words burst from Wujun’s lips and as he approached, the shimmer of angry tears was evident in the corner of his eyes. “I told them no. I refuse to be treated like a child any longer! Kentai, I’m…” He hesitated only for a heartbeat, then asserted passionately, “I’m staying with you!”

Kentai couldn’t keep the smile from tugging at his lips. Despite how upset Wujun obviously was, despite the impending invasion, despite everything, he was relieved. No matter how foolish it was to feel this way, to let himself become entangled in the life of another, he realized he’d been afraid of parting with Wujun. It was simply too soon, he told himself. A few weeks wasn’t long enough to know anyone. He needed more time to learn and experience as much of the young man as he could.

“Okay.” He said it far more nonchalantly than he felt, as though he were agreeing on what they would have for dinner. “But I’m not staying in Tiguri either.”

Wujun gasped and some of the tension melted from his lean frame. “You’re not? Why? What’s going on, Kentai? Tell me, please!”

The pleading in his pale, aqua eyes was enough to make Kentai want to answer any question. That was not why he hesitated to reply. Did Wujun really not know? Why wouldn’t his caretakers warn him of the danger?

“Sunaizo Province is being invaded.” He couldn’t come up with a single reason not to be honest, not when death was looming overhead. “The capital fell three nights ago and according to the refugees who fled, a large part of the army split off and is heading here.”

Wujun staggered a couple of steps and sat down heavily into the nearest chair. His face was contorted by shock and grief, his eyes searching blindly as he tried to make sense of the news. “But… why here?” he finally asked, turning his imploring gaze back to Kentai. “They have Kibesu. What else do they want?”

Kentai joined him at the table, pulling a chair around so he could sit closer to the young man. When he was seated, he reached over and put a hand on Wujun’s arm, hoping to comfort him somewhat. “I figure because Tiguri is the next biggest town, so it’s a priority. There are a few villages to the east, but they’re farming communities. Tiguri, however…”

“… Is where someone might form a resistance.” Wujun nodded, understanding dawning on him. “Who’s invading us and why? Sunaizo is mostly wilderness and plains, there’s nothing here. We’ve always relied on trade with Zukawa Province, so what do we have that would make someone want to conquer us?” His brow was knitted in concentration. Now that his initial shock had worn off, he was thinking constructively, strategically.

The swordsman shrugged, not having much of an answer for him. “Zukawa’s warlord, Tzulan, has proclaimed war on all the provinces. Sunaizo is just the easiest to get to. Or he’s afraid we’ll stab him in the back while he’s laying siege to the western provinces… Not sure anyone in these parts could marshal enough of an army to pull that off, though. Kibesu’s government barely functioned on a good day…” He trailed off when he noticed Wujun’s frown deepen.

“How did I not know any of this? I feel so stupid!” He kicked at the empty chair next to him, sending it scooting across the floor with a high-pitched scraping noise. “Don’t say it’s because it was kept from me, either! All these nights I’ve been sneaking out and not once did I sense that anything was out of place. I’m such a fool…” He leaned forward and hid his face in his palms.

“Okay, that’s enough wallowing.” Kentai wasn’t about to coddle him. “The people here wanted to believe they were safe. Most of the locals are refusing to leave even now. Nobody wants to deal with the truth, that even though Tiguri is on the ass end of the province, the war won’t stop at the capital. Besides,” he let out a sigh, then reached over to push the young man’s hands away from his face, “I was protecting you from it, too. And myself really… I’d much rather share drinks with you than think about war.”

The confession drew Wujun’s gaze back to Kentai’s face. They sat in silence like this for several moments, staring at each other in the otherwise empty inn, until Wujun finally let out a sigh. “So, now we leave? But where do we go?”

Kentai shifted so he could rest his elbow on the back of his chair. “Through the mountains to Baisho Province. The city of Kurokume is the gateway to the west. From there, we can go wherever we want.” He regarded Wujun, studying his face as he added, “I imagine your caretakers were planning a similar course.”

“To hell with them,” Wujun spat, hurt and anger washing over his round face, contorting it into an expression that didn’t suit him.

“Hey,” Kentai growled, “watch your language.”

The aqua eyes, as bright and clear as a mountain lake, flashed with momentary annoyance at being chastised, but then, the darkness abated. “That’s pretty rich coming from you.” Wujun’s features lit up with a smile, his voice bright and carefree again. This was how he should be, not weighed down by the problems of the world, but shining with mirth and joy.

“Yeah, well, no need for my bad habits to rub off on you,” he answered, unable to stop himself from grinning.

There was a tightness in his chest, warm and pleasant, but also aching. The longer Wujun smiled up at him, the deeper the sensation ran until finally, he couldn’t keep it contained a second more.

Kentai reached over and brushed his fingers against Wujun’s cheek. There was still a faint mark where a blade had scratched him on the night of their first meeting. He caressed it with his thumb, then leaned closer as his fingers tangled themselves in short, pale hair.

“K-kentai…?” Wujun’s voice was soft, timid, uncertain.

To the unspoken question, there could be only one answer. Tenderly, Kentai pressed his lips to the almost healed cut. He heard Wujun’s breath catch in his throat, but he didn’t pull away or protest. Taking this as permission to continue, the swordsman put his other hand on the young man’s chin and nudged him to turn his head.

Wujun obeyed the direction and was met by a hungry, passionate kiss.