DECEMBER 844 AQE

Wujun had never felt the bliss of another person’s mouth against his own. Of every soul in the world he could have shared his first kiss with, he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather it have been than Kentai. When he was an old man recounting the thrilling days of his youth, he would remember this day above all others. Not for the fear of impending war, not for the liberation of having stood up to his handlers, but for this fleeting, amazing kiss.

Is this really happening? Is Kentai really kissing me? My heart is racing, I’m afraid it might burst from my chest… I can’t breathe either. Oh, but I don’t care. I don’t need to breathe. I just need Kentai!

His face was flushed from his cheeks all the way to his ears and his hands trembled, but it was still the best moment of his entire life. He prayed it would never end. That the world would simply stop moving, allowing him to live forever in this one, bright instant where only warmth and tenderness existed.

And Kentai. It had to be Kentai. Nobody else would do, nobody else could taste so wonderful, despite the cheap wine on his breath and the chaos life had devolved into.

Unfortunately, time refused to hold still and allow their embrace to last without interruption. The moment of intimacy and vulnerability had unlocked the questions in Wujun that burned hotter than the passion in his groin. He made a promise to himself, even as Kentai’s hand strayed to his chest, that he would never again accept secrets. If he was going to give himself over to the sweet rush of sensations, then he had to know the truth first. If Kentai couldn’t be honest, then they could never be more than friends.

It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, parting his lips from Kentai’s, but Wujun was resolute. He had been kept in the dark his whole life and he simply couldn’t endure secrets from Kentai another moment longer.

“I need to know…” He was panting as though he’d just ran the length of the town. He had to force the words out even as Kentai grumbled low in his throat and trailed teasing kisses down Wujun’s neck. “Please.” He shivered, still clinging tightly to the swordsman. “I think I know… what you are and I don’t care… I just want to know why…”

Kentai’s hand was back in Wujun’s hair, and his mouth had found its way to his ear. Something warm and wet flicked his earlobe and he nearly lost his resolve. Shuddering, he gasped, trying to clear the wanton fog from his mind and hold to the last shred of what he needed to say.

“Kentai, please…” he sighed, his head spinning and heat throbbing throughout his entire body. “Why? Why did he try to name you ‘death’?” Finally, it was out, but the relief he felt was short-lived.

One minute, Kentai was tender and seductive, the next it was like an icy breeze had passed between them. The swordsman went rigid and pulled away, taking with him the smoky haze of passion that a moment ago had been pleasantly suffocating. There was a guarded expression on his face now, his eyes as hard as the metal gauntlets on his arms.

“Why do you ask?” Kentai challenged in a curt, unfriendly tone.

Regret slammed into Wujun like a blow from a hammer. This was what he had feared would happen and now that it had, he wasn’t sure how to fix it. His mind raced and his heart ached. He tried to reach out for Kentai, needing a measure of reassurance, but the other man chose that moment to stand up and create a wall of physical space by stepping away.

All I have is the truth…

The thought cut through the mire forming in his mind, like shelter in a raging storm. All he could do now was be honest, explain himself, and hope Kentai would understand. If he couldn’t, then perhaps he was better off… Wujun didn’t let the notion, born of despair, take root and instead shook it away by rising as well. He didn’t close the distance, but he turned so they were facing one another again.

“All my life there have been secrets,” he confessed, forcing himself to meet the stony gaze, willing his first friend in the entire world to understand. “Everyone I’ve ever known has hidden things from me. Important things, like the fact my parents died when I was still an infant and that I had to leave my home because it was being invaded!”

The more he spoke, the more his chest ached. Tears stung his eyes and he fought them, not wanting to appear weak or childish. He paused, needing to catch his breath and regain some of his composure. “I don’t care what you’ve done,” he started again. “I don’t care what you are. Please, no secrets…”

He hadn’t realized it, having been so focused on what he was saying to note Kentai’s shifting demeanor. He was still wary, but his eyes were no longer hard and the tension in his shoulders had loosened.

“No secrets?” Kentai’s voice was softer. “You’re sure?”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Wujun answered without hesitation.

They stared across at one another for a long, uncertain moment before the swordsman finally heaved a sigh. “Fuck it.” He stepped over to the bar and dug out a couple of mugs and a bottle of alcohol. “If we’re doing this, then I’m not doing it entirely sober. Come on, get your ass over here then.”

Startled and a little confused at the sudden change in attitude, Wujun gaped for a moment before hurrying to sit at the bar with him.

Kentai poured them each a modest portion before speaking again. “It’s probably swill,” he mused. “I’d wager my coin purse that old codger sold off the good shit or took it with him.” He put the bottle down with a clunk, then grabbed the mug nearest him and took a long, gulping drink.

“Fuck! Wine again.” Annoyed, he tossed the mug over his shoulder and resigned himself to continuing the conversation without the aid of alcohol.

Wujun, who wasn’t interested in liquor, pushed his untouched mug toward the swordsman as a peace offering. Kentai lifted his head, quirking his eyebrow before letting a slight smile play over his lips.

“Are you sure we can’t go back to kissing?” he teased. “You taste a lot better than wine…”

The young man’s cheeks flushed a deep red and he shook his head. “No, not until everything is laid out on the table. No secrets, that’s the deal.”

Kentai turned somber again, but he wasn’t cold this time. Whatever he was about to reveal, it must have weighed heavily on him. He spent several minutes in silence, his expression thoughtful. It would have been a lie had Wujun said he didn’t feel some anxiety about what he was about to learn, but he’d said he didn’t care, that it wouldn’t matter, and he was determined to hold true to that by keeping his face composed.

Finally, Kentai began to explain, his voice hushed. “Your suspicion the other night was correct. Naizen called me ‘brother’ because we’re both… Zosara.” He said the word with contempt and self-loathing. “We met when I was about your age. I’d been reckless, showed my power to the wrong people, and caught the attention of a Shadow. She’d have killed me, too, if not for Naizen…”

“What’s a Shadow?” Wujun asked as the swordsman trailed off. “I’ve never heard this term before…”

“I know little about them, only what stories I got secondhand from Naizen.” Kentai was eyeing him now and seemed curious. “The last Emperor, Qinsuto, is said to have founded their organization; the Circle of Shadows. Their one and only agenda was to hunt down and kill Zosara. They’re damn good at it, too.”

Kentai snatched up the remaining mug of wine and drained it in a single gulp. This gave Wujun a moment to consider what he’d just learned. Were there really people out there who wanted to kill Kentai just for having the ability to use magic? It didn’t sit right with him. Unjustified killing would never sit right with him.

“So, why ‘death’?” Wujun had a sinking feeling assassins weren’t the worst part of Kentai’s story, and he was eager to be done with the unpleasant retelling. “Is it because you’re so efficient at…” He couldn’t say it aloud, didn’t want to admit that someone he cared so much for might be a cold-blooded murderer.

“At killing?” Kentai finished for him instead. He seemed not to have any qualms about the matter. “No. Not entirely, anyway. It’s… Wujun,” he put his hand on the young man’s arm and gazed intently at him, “I’ve never told another living person what I can do. Usually they… find out and none of them, not even Naizen, have ever looked at me the same way again.”

Wujun adjusted so he could squeeze Kentai’s hand, hoping to offer him reassurance. “I think I guessed some of what you can do.” He offered a smile. “The nails, remember? That was you, wasn’t it?”

He nodded, half-heartedly returning the smile. “Yes. I’m attuned to metal. Naizen, as you saw, is attuned to fire.” He glanced down at their entwined fingers and for a second, the steel-gray eyes sparkled. “Understand, Wujun, that many elements are entwined with different aspects of the world. For instance, air is often associated with life. Metal, or earth, as some call it, is associated with death.”

“I can figure out why air is life,” Wujun frowned, “but why is metal and earth part of death? It makes no sense. Plants grow from the soil after all.”

Now Kentai smiled for real, touched by the defense. “Yes, Wujun, but where do we place our dead?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “The lifeless, empty shells no longer animated by a human soul are buried within the earth, reclaimed by it.”

“But fire…” Wujun started but was cut off.

“Fire cleanses. It purges bodies afflicted by contagious diseases. Across Ryuutachi, the practice of burying the dead is the prevailing tradition. I’ve no qualms with that; it is what it is.” His eyes were dark again, his mouth set in a grim line. “Bodies are empty. It’s the souls that haunt me. The souls that linger, trapped here because they can’t relinquish their attachments to flesh and gold and whatever the hell else they were obsessed with in life. That is my fucked up curse, Wujun.” His voice broke, but he swallowed and kept going. “I can see the spirits of the dead and I can speak with them, too. Even among other metal Zosara, this ability is considered… an affliction.”

Kentai pulled away then, withdrawing his hand and turning so most of his face was hidden. No matter how long he sat there, mulling over what he’d just learned, Wujun couldn’t figure out why the man hated himself so much. He didn’t imagine seeing spirits was a pleasant experience, but considering he’d braced himself to hear his friend was a mass murderer, it didn’t seem so bad. Also, Wujun was sheltered and didn’t share the same social superstitions that were otherwise commonplace.

By the time he slid off the stool, Wujun had already decided. He moved to stand in front of Kentai, then held out his hand, allowing himself the satisfaction of brushing his fingertips against the other man’s strong jawline.

“Look at me, Kentai,” he bade, his tone leaving no room for disobedience.

If Kentai was surprised by the commanding manner, he didn’t show it. He raised his face, his expression once again guarded; he was waiting to be shunned like so many times before.

Wujun, however, was smiling at him and though he spoke with confidence, his cheeks turned bright red. “I’d really like it… if you’d kiss me again.”

Now, shock flashed across Kentai’s face, but it was soon replaced by a grin of his own. Before he could answer or move to oblige the young man, his expression changed once again, alerting Wujun to danger.

The room erupted into chaos.