any time spent with you, anywhere, is worth it.

[protential]

Hey. Hey, Kamo. Hey. Hey. Hey. [Hikaru's voice is persistent, like a troublesome dragonfly, buzzing in and out of range again and again. He's too weak to do more than lightly smack Kamo across the face, and it's kind of disgusting, really, considering how his hand is covered in grey slime.] Hey, idiot, wake up already. And you're telling me I'm the one who's been overdoing it...

[Perhaps he did end up overdoing it, this time, though. He's fairly sure several of his ribs are broken, and one of his ankles, too, and there's blood--his blood, judging by its color--streaming down one side of his face. Behind him, the blackened, still-burning landscape is all that's left of the meadow where they faced off against the latest warrior of the youkai. Only this patch of ground still has any life to it, protected as it was by Kamo's magic circle. Unfortunately, through some odious trick on the youkai's part, Kamo wasn't able to finish placing his runes or reciting the sacred incantation. The psychic backlash was severe, just this tsunami of dark energy, threatening to overwhelm everything in its path... That's why Hikaru had to finish what Kamo started, although he probably should have called in some reinforcements first. He's just grateful the enchanted sword is as powerful as it is.]

You're being a real pain, you know that... shit, shit, ow...

[Kebiishi are supposed to be better than this, stronger than this, but Hikaru is struggling to focus past the hot, radiating pain. It feels like an entire mountain has been dropped on top of him, and then some. He turns over, then, sitting beside Kamo's prone body, his arms behind him and his legs straight before him, his breaths coming in very shallow intervals. If Kamo doesn't wake up soon (he has to wake up soon), Hikaru is going to have to carry him all the way back to camp, and he doesn't know how he's going to manage that just yet. Not a great situation to be in.]

Comments

[protential]

[Too late, much too late, Hikaru remembers the dire warnings given to him by the high priest of the temple. He was an older man, wrinkled with memories, exacting, and definitely imposing; he was an intimidating figure to deal with. His eyes were akin to shards of ice, and they only seemed to harden as looked upon Hikaru and appraised him from a far-off place. This high priest told him that, under no circumstances, would he be allowed to come in contact with Kamo in any way. They were to engage in the minimum of conversation, even. It was made clear to him that he could not, and he would not, do anything to distract Kamo from his divinely appointed mission. Hikaru was only there to defend Kamo from that which Kamo couldn't defend himself from.

Their first night on the road together, Hikaru infuriated Kamo by suggesting fallen stars didn't mean anything at all. In his view, there were no messages up there for the priesthood to read--no sign posts from the heavens on high. It was merely random chaos, and not even chaos that they could make sense of. He went on to question the purpose and ambitions of the Division of Divination and Supernatural Affairs, and he claimed that he could defeat all of the youkai without Kamo's help. Needless to say, their partnership almost didn't survive the months that followed, even after their first successful exorcism together. But Hikaru did do his best to abide by the other edicts, like not interrupting Kamo during prayers, and not touching him at all...

The cool skin of Kamo's hands feels like a silken tapestry wrapped around an ancient, expertly forged sword. Hikaru can feel the wisdom and experience and incomparable artistry within those fingertips, and he knows now why he was not permitted to do anything like this. To be touched by such blessed hands is to be touched by the incarnation of his own Creator. There's no question about that. No question at all. He has never once had a religious experience that he knows of, but this is something that must qualify as one, surely...

Instead of trying to sit up, Hikaru lifts one of his own hands--he can see the scars across it, the scrapes, the thick and ugly calluses. These aren't hands that deserve to settle anywhere near to Kamo's, he knows. But he's lifting one of his own hands, to press that hand on top of one of Kamo's, where he can hold it in place for the time being.] I always wondered... [His smile is the kind that gets away from him, favoring just one corner of his mouth.] ... what it would be like, to be... taken care of by one of your kind. [By you, is what his half-lidded eyes are saying. They're too dark to be called green, but they're not quite a brown, either. Just a color that belongs to the earth spread below.] It's less of an ordeal than I thought it would be. [And by that he means it feels really good. He would be perfectly content to lie here for the rest of the night, cradled in these hands, instead of making their way back to camp.

But he doesn't intend to demonstrate any more weakness than he already has, especially in front of the person he's charged to protect. He takes a deeper breath, as deep as he can get it, and then steadily, if shakily, begins to push himself up and into a sitting position. His whole body still hurts in general, but the pain is more like the aching of muscles after an exceptional workout, rather than doing battle with yet another embodiment of evil.]

You won't have to carry me back there, if you'd just, ergh... give me... a moment...