"Scarlet"

Title : Scarlet
Author : Arlyn Jayde
E-mail : atomichatred82@lycos.com
Rating : NC-17 for graphic sex, language, and major angst
Pairing : Masami Shibaki/Haruya Sakurai, implied Maki Souda/Saki Sakurai
Archive : Battle School, anyone else ask first
Spoilers : Battle Royale 2
Disclaimer : I do not own any of the characters of Battle Royale, and I am not affiliated with Toei, or any of the actors/directors/producers of this movie. This story is purely a work of FICTION and no profit is made from this venture.
Summary : Masami and Haruya find one last refuge before it all goes to hell.
Author’s Note : Follow up to “By Firelight”. And after going through the movie a few more times, I have come to the decision that my vote for Battle Royale 2’s OTP goes to this pairing.
Warning : Graphic depictions of m/m sex between two characters who are most definitely underage. Don’t like it? Don’t read it. Hell will flame me. You don’t need to.

Scarlet
by Arlyn Jayde

If I was your love I would want only you
Lay at this altar, all that I am, all that is true

For love I have scaled the face of these kingdom walls
So let down your hair let our kiss make fools of them all

And this old scarlet letter won’t keep me from holding you
And there is nothing you can do

“Scarlet” – by Jars of Clay

---------


The white billow of smoke slowly snaked its way up into the cracked ceiling, dancing as it went, a ghost-like mist carried up into the chilly air. Haruya Sakurai lay on his back on the cold concrete, one hand cushioning his red-bronze head, and as the trail of smoke disappeared before his eyes another soon followed, white and thick, and Haruya craned his neck up slightly to look at his companion.

“You smoke too much, Masami…”

The black-haired boy smiled in that rather smug way he always smiled, his lips quietly puffing another cloud of white just to rub it in. Haruya grunted something unintelligible and laid his head back down.

They were back inside the Wild Seven compound, after several members of the group had surveyed the partially-destroyed building and decided that it was structurally intact, and strong enough to let them stay in it for at least another night, which was preferable to sleeping outside in the open. Masami had found them a secluded corridor separated from the main chamber, so that they remained at close distance from the others but hidden from their view. Haruya hadn’t questioned his decision—he welcomed the chance to be alone with his friend, even if the barrier was no more than an incomplete wall and miscellaneous bits of junk and rubble.

One of the Wild Seven members, the girl with the hat who did all the computer work, approached them from the broken doorway, the loud rustling of dirt against her boots signaling her intrusion. Haruya stared at her apprehensively, but then he saw that she was carrying a bundle of fabric in her arms, which he then realized were blankets. She threw them down at Masami’s feet, and he gave her a thank-you nod, then offered her his pack of cigarettes. The girl…what was her name, Maki Souda? She took a cigarette out of the pack and gave Masami a faint smile, but when she turned to look at Haruya, her face grew serious. Haruya stiffened, feeling rather intimidated by the girl’s frame looming over him, but he fought not let it show.

“So you’re Saki’s little brother…” she muttered.

Haruya felt his chest tightening at the mention of Saki’s name. Beside him, Masami lost all pretense ospiospitality towards the girl and stared back at her, his one hand coming to rest on Haruya’s ankle.

“So? What if he is?”

“I was talking to him, not you.” she snapped back.

“Masami, it’s okay.” Haruya quickly stepped in. He didn’t want things to get ugly. Not now. Not after all he’s been through. He looked up at the Souda girl, meeting her gaze. “I’m Saki’s brother…that is, if she still thinks of me as such.”

That last bit seemed to catch Souda a little off-guard. She lost that composed look in her eyes and briefly seemed to struggle with herself, but she quickly masked it with a tight, grimacing smile.

“Use those…” she gestured towards the blankets. “The night is getting colder.”

She spun on her heels and left. Walking away, just like Saki had done, Haruya recalled painfully, and Masami made an angry noise and seemed to want to go after her, but Haruya very gently heim bim back.

“Don’t bother, Masami…”

“But…” Masami stared after the Wild Seven girl as she disappeared through the broken doorway. “She might know more about your sister! She can tell you—”

“No.” Haruya shook his head slowly. “She doesn’t have my answers.”

Haruya pulled himself up and pressed his back against the concrete wall. Even has he lifted his chin up to glance upon the cracked ceiling again, he could feel Masami’s eyes on him, cigarette momentarily forgotten, for there were no dancing billows of smoke this time. Just concrete and plaster, discolored and worn, remnants of electrical wire trailing a twisted, colorful path against a mottled-gray background.

Everything was so quiet.

Masami must have snapped out of his trance by that time because the dancing smoke returned, intensely, and as Haruya glanced over at his friend he saw the lips that were steadily releasing plumes of white, the same lips that had spoken to comfort him, that had gently whispered in his ears…that had kissed him. Haruya closed his eyes, unsure if this was how he was supposed to feel, but truth be told the memory of that kiss didn’t stir anything in him that was negative. He wasn’t disgusted, with himself or Masami, nor did he regret it. Regret it? Like hell he would.

He’d waited fifteen years to be kissed like that, and he wasn’t about to complain just because the person who finally did it to him happened to have a Y chromosome.

In Haruya’s opinion, the chemistry was perfect.

“Masami…”

“Huh?”

“Can I have another one of those?” Haruya gestured with his chin at Masami’s cigarette pack.

A chuckle answered him. “Are you sure?” the black-haired boy said, that smile on his face again. “You didn’t do too well the first time, miendiend.”

“That’s why I need practice.” Haruya said, taking the slender white cigarette that Masami handed to him.

“Here, I’ll light it up for you.” Masami said, flicking his lighter on with an expert’s grace, holding the tiny flame close to Haruya as he put the cigarette between his lips.

This time he managed not to choke on the first inhale, but that swooning dizziness came back and he winced, and he could swear Masami was grinning through all this. Haruya’s nostrils felt as if they were on fire andquicquickly exhaled, releasing a whiff of smoke that was nowhere near as graceful as Masami was capable of, and once again his friend patted his back, albeit a little chidingly, and with a hint of ‘I told you so’ for good measure.

“How can you...” Haruya stared at the cigae ine in his hand. “…like this thing?”

Masami shrugged nonchalantly and leaned back against the wall. “It takes a while to get used to.”

“It tastes awful.” Haruya said. “So bitter.”

“Put it out if you don’t like it.” Masami suggested casually.

“No, no, no…” Haruya quickly declined. “I’ll…hold onto it for a little while.”

While Haruya struggled with what was only the second smoke of his lifetime, gradually learning how to inhale and puff without causing himself a coughing fit in the process, Masami inspected the blanket that Souda had dropped at his feet.

“Nice of her to give us this…” Masami said. “I thought she’d just give us a filthy rag or something.”

Haruya watched as Masami unfurled what turned out to be a large, red blanket, made of what looked like wool, roughly-woven out of a scarlet-colored yarn. Masami felt the fabric with his fingers, spreading it out across the concrete.

“Not exactly my bed back home…” he muttered with just a hint of wistfulness in his voice. “…but I’ll take it.”

“Too bad she didn’t have two.” Haruya said.

Masami frowned at him. “Don’t be picky. This is big enough for the both of us.”

Haruya’s chest made a little jump at that, and he didn’t quite know why. Masami was about to spread the blanket on the floor, but he seemed to consider something and then he folded it back to its original state.

“What’s the matter?” Haruya asked.

“Rather draughty in here, don’t you think?” Masami looked around the narrow corridor. “The wind’s being channeled right through this narrow space.”

Haruya thought he was overstating it a bit, the corridor was rather windy and cold, it was winter anyhow, but not so much as to put him in a terrible discomfort. But Masami stood up and folded the blanket under his arm. “Come on, let’s try tnd snd someplace warmer.”

That little chest-jump again, and this time Haruya knew exactly why. Rather dumbfounded but inexplicably excited, he stood up and followed his teammate. Masami walked quietly along the corridor, his cigarette creating a trail of smoke behind him. Haruya’s own lay neglected on the concrete floor. Masami got to the very end of the corridor, well away from the doorway that led to the main chamber where everybody else was, and he looked around. “Over …” h…” he pointed towards what looked like a small room at one side, with a broken window looking out onto the corridor. Haruya’s brows knitted with doubt. The room looked dark, and he didn’t want to risk sleeping in a place that might be infested with rats, roaches or other unpleasant things.

The door of the room was unhinged and Masami carefully removed it, cigarette between his lips, setting the dusty door down outside the room, lng ang against the wall. Reaching inside the pocket of his black BR2 chest, Masami pulled out his trusty lighter again, but along with it he also produced a long white cylinder which Haruya quickly recognized as a candle.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Nanahara had a lot of these stashed in the old compound. Near that little memorial of his.” Masami explained, lighting the candle up. “Guy sure has a flair for dramatics, wouldn’t you say?”

Haruya chuckled. “I guess…but why’d you take one?”

Masami’s face lost most of its good cheer as he brandished the lit candle in front of him, aiming it towards the doorless frame. “I was thinking of lighting this up…you know, for Shugo, and Shintaro…and Wataru.”

Haruya fell silent, his head dropping with the weight of painful memories of his now-gone friends. Wataru was the hardest for him to come to terms with—he’d seen Shintaro and Shugo die, but Wataru had perished along with everybody else in his boat when it got blown out of the water, and it all happened so fast Masami didn’t realize until much later on that his bright, cheerful, energetic rugby teammate was dead. That boisterous, uninhibited laughter that they would never hear again.

“Come…” Masami said, his voice as sullen as Haruya had ever heard it. “Let’s get inside.”

The room turned out to be not as bad as Haruya thought it’d be. It was for the most part empty, save for a few wooden planks lying to one side and boxes stacked in a corner. The floor was bare concrete, like the rest of the building, but it didn’t look any worse than the floor in the corridor or elsewhere. Masami handed the blanketHaruHaruya and quickly set about making the room a bit more comfortable, arranging the wooden planks on the floor into a makeshift platform. The two then spread the red woolen blanket on it, then Haruya knelt down and carefully upended the candle inches above the floor, letting the drops of melted wax fall onto the concrete. Judging that the amount was enough, he quickly set the bottom of the candle into the tiny pool of rapidly hardening wax, setting it firmly in place. Then he stood up beside Masami and inspected their handiwork.

“Not bad, eh?” he said as he cleaned his hands on his jacket.

“No…” Masami said, but he wasn’t exactly looking their makeshift bed and lighting. “Not bad at all…”

When Haruya realized that Masami was looking at him instead, the little chest-jump came back, stronger and more alarming than ever before, especially when Masami threw his cigarette down on the floor, stamped on it with his boot, and stepped towards him. Two gentle hands came to rest on his chest, and before Haruya had any time to react they undid the clasp of his black vest, and began working it off his shoulders.

“We can use these for pillows…”

Haruya gave him a blank nod as Masami took off his own vest, then sat down on their ‘bed’ and threw both vests down, patting them firmly. It was only when Masami began unlacing his boots that Haruya snapped out of his little trance, and feeling rather silly he sat down beside his tate ate and began taking off his boots, too.

“Haruya..”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think it’ll work?” Masami asked quietly. “That tunnel escape Nanahara was talking about?”

Haruya shook his head as he set his boots aside. “I don’t know. If it does lead to the mainland, like he said, then we should at least be able to get off this island before the shooting starts.”

“And then what?” Masami said. “What’ll we do next?”

“I don’t know, Masami…” Haruya said as he laid his boown own on the woolen blanket, cushioning his head on his BR vest. The blanket wasn’t exactly smooth and it smelt faintly of something that had not been aired for a while, but he wasn’t complaining.

“Never thought I’d say this…” Masami spoke again as he laisideside Haruya, both of them staring at the ceiling. “…but I don’t really like the idea of running away like that.”

“We can’t stay here, Masami.” Haruya said. If we stay here, we’ll die. I don’t want to die.

“I know we can’t, but…” his friend’s voice trailed off. “None of us really understand what they’re fighting for, and maybe some of them don’t, either. But I feel like…like I’m turning my back against them.”

“They want us to escape.”

“Nanahara wants us to escape.” Masami said bitterly. “Pps hps he’s thinking that if anybody makes it off this island alive, then that’s a small victory for him and the bastard can die in peace.”

“Masami…”

“Our friends sure as hell didn’t die in peace!”

“Masami!” Haruya reached and grabbed his friend’s wrist, none-too-gently. “Stop it, please.”

The black-haired boy must have heard the strain in his voice because he stopped, then turned his head to look at Haruya. There he must have seen what Haruya guessed was a pretty painful expression, because suddenly Masami was leaning over him, supporting himself on one elbow, his face full of guilt.

“Sorry…” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to say all that.”

“No…it’s okay.” Haruya assured him. It wasn’t, of course, but saying that would do either of them no good.

“I’m sorry, Haruya…” Masami repeated. “I’m just…I’m fucked up.”

“We all are.” Haruya said. “We were fucked up the second we woke up with those collars around our necks.”

Masami winced when he mentioned the collars. Those things were a nightmare. So many of their friends had died because of it, and Haruya had felt relief beyond all relief when Maki Souda had expertly sawed into his collar and pulled it loose, and he breathed easy for the first time since he last remembered not wearing them, back on the bus. The collars were loose enough to allow them to breathe, but it was tight enough to cause them discomfort. They were metal and had no padding, thus leaving them with chafing marks around their throats.

Haruya reached up and tentativel touched the flesh of his neck. He couldn’t see it himself, of course, but he was sure his marks were none too different than those he saw on Masami---lines of reddish flesh going around their throats, the skin raw and slightly painful to the touch. Masami saw him do this and leaned in even closer, looking concerned.

“Does it still hurt?”

“No…” Haruya said. “Not much, anyway.”

At that moment Haruya saw something in Masami’s eyes he’d recalled seeing before. It was that familiar little spark, that thing he always did whenever they’re in the middle of a rugby match and he suddenly gets one of his brilliant ideas to outwit their opponents. Masami was always thinking on his feet, quick-witted, and whenever he got that look in his eyes you always know that he’s about to do something utterly spontaneous, utterly unexpected. But here? Now?

“Here. I’ll make it better.” Masami said, moving forward as he did so.

Haruya’s eyes widened. “Wait, Masami—”

But Masami didn’t wait. He lowered his face down onto Haruya’s and the bronze-haired boy stiffened as he felt his friend’s mouth coming into contact with the raw flesh of his throat. He braced himself for pain but none came…instead he felt the gentle moistness of Masami’s lips against his flesh, the whiff of breath hot on his skin, and a hand softly caressing his neck, willing Haruya to its touch. Who knew a rugby player like Masami could use his hands as gently as this, and Haruya’s body was slowly succumbing, welcoming the warmth that had last came upon him back at the beach.

He wanted to feel it again. He knew it in his heart, even when his mind screamed at him not to. It was wrong. It was bad. But how could it be bad, if it thi this good? Haruya reached for the hem of Masami’s jacket and tugged it closer, a silent request he hoped Masami would understand. He did. The black-haired boy’s mouth traveled up to Haruya’s chin, then further upwards before finally engulfing his lips in a moist kiss, and simultaneously his body shifted onto Haruya’s, gently pressing his weight down on his teammate’s, covering him. Haruya shut his eyes, enjoying the quiet tremors his other senses brought him, the taste of Masami in his tongue, the weight of his body, the scent of his hair, the sounds their lips made in the darkness.

Masami reached for Haruya’s wrists, just like he did at the beach, and pinned them above his head, the movements of his tongue growing more bold. Haruya let him, allowing Masami to take the initiative, as always, trusting his friend implicitly that everything would be okay, that he was in good hands. Masami was shorter than he was but Haruya felt so small in his presence, his expert grace, his sureness of movement, something Haruya never had, dim diminutive Kansai transfer with the smug little grin on his face that seemed far more inviting for a punch across the mouth rather than a kiss.

But kiss they did, and much more, Masami effortly removing his jacket and using it for extra cushioning while Haruya struggled with his—all the more difficult because he was pinned under Masami’s weigfinafinally requiring Masami’s assistance. All the while their lips were busy discovering each other’s necks and faces, and hands that were unhindered skimmed over parts of the body they’d never dreamed of touching. Haruya felt Masami’s fingers snaking under his t-shirt, coming to contacth tth the now-heated flesh of his torso, and an involuntary moan escaped his lips, quickly swallowed by the other’s.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” he whispered in Masami’s ear as the other worked his hands up Haruya’s back. Stupid question, really. Who hasn’t done it, these days? Surely Masami had plenty of adventures in Kansai to grant him his expert touch, his ease of being. Even Haruya, for all his apparent shyness around girls, had gotten lucky back id grd grade with a girl from another class. Not that the experience was particularly mind-blowing, but at least it was a punch in his ticket.

“This is the part where I usually have to unhook a bra.” Masami muttered. Haruya chuckled, careful to keep his voice low.

“Then I’m sorry to disappoint you, my friend…I have much less to offer.”

“Oh, no…” Masami pulled Haruya’s shirt over his head, nudging his teammate’s arms up so he could pull it off. “I don’t think so.”

Even though he was still wearing his trousers, Haruya felt stripped and vulnerable by Masami’s gaze on him. He stared up blankly at his friend, whose face was painted with dancing shadows from the flame they had lit, and Haruya worried about neither the cold nor the wind. Masami would keep him warm. Masami would keep so much more than warm. As if reading his thoughts the Kansai boy lowered his body down onto Haruya’s again, this time deliberately letting the growing bulge of their excitement brush against each other, and Haruya managed a choked gasp as tremors shook him, and the chest-jump came back tenfold.

“Masami…”

“I know what I’m doing, Haruya.”

“You…you’ve done this with a guy before?”

“Not really. But I’ve watched a couple of videos.” The smug grin now came with a wink added onto it. “They were very…educational.”

“Huh?”

“Trust me.” Came the sweet words against his ears, a soft hush in the night’s chill that commanded him to yield to the voice’s bearer. “Trust me, my friend…”

He had but a few people he could trust in this world, and most of them were now dead.

“I trust you.”

Masami kissed his forehead in a most tender manner, before leaning back to pull his own shirt off. Haruya marveled at the other boy’s strong physique, even though hbeenbeen on the rugby team for only a short while. He suspected Masami had other ways of building up his muscular strength back in Kansai, and while he was never the tallest player on the field Masami always seemed twice the strength of a man his size, so strong and agile. Like Haruya, he had a few bumps on bruises on him, silent testament of the brutality they’d had to endure when they set foot on this cursed island.

“Wanna get these off, too?” Masami fingered his belt buckle.

Haruya was filled with doubt for a moment, but nodded his affirmation anyway. Why stop here? Why stop now, when everything else around them was ready to crumble and fall? Why bother worrying about how wrong this is when death is but a few gunshots away? Haruya unfastened his belt buckle and pulled down his trousers, working them down over his hips as Masami mimicked his movements, both of them taking their discarded garments and using them to cushion their bodies. Haruya took what was left of the blanket from both sides and folded them over his body and Masami’s, giving them some warmth.

Under the scarlet folds their slow, sensuous dance continued, now bare flesh met bare flesh and Haruya was nearly delirious, he felt the fire burning under Masami’s skin and tasted the fiery brew of his tongue, and their hands were now free to roam previously inaccessable areas, Masami using this to full advantage when he reached down and squeezed through Haruya’s boxers at his rounded ass. Haruya made a half-hearted noise of protest but this only spurred Masami to continue his exploration, and when his hands finally cupped the bulge in the front of Haruya’s boxers the bronze-haired boy fell silent, the only noise he could make was the rapid pounding of his chest.

Masami pulled the red blanket tighter around them with one hand as the other hooked a finger inside Haruya’s waistband, and Haruya found that the only way he could deal with this was to return the favor. Together they moved, ridding each other of theirt bit bit of clothing, the blanket rustling against its wooden base as the two now-naked bodies pressed against each other again, and it seemed to Haruya that not even a blizzard could quench the fire that had been ignited between them.

He grew bold as the night grew deeper, his arms now looped around Masami’s neck and pulling him down to him, his lips tracing a line along one delicately arched eyebrow as Masami’s hard breathing sent microscopic heat storms towards his neck. Haruya smiled despite himself, wondering how it was that his had had changed so drastically in so little time.

A rugby match lost, a school trip blown to hell, friends dead and burned, a sister back from the dead but might as well be, and now…this.

If anything, this was probably the only good thing to have come from the shitty mess that they’d landed in. Haruya licked a trail of moistness down Masami’s neck, returning his earlier favor, gently lapping at the marks the collar had left. Masami’s hands were down south, tentatively holding and playing with Haruya’s cock, his palms calloused and warm, making Haruya squirm and his chest jump yet again. Thinking an eye for an eye he reached down between their bodies past a confusing tangle of limbs and followed the heat to his intended target, the hard and leaking length that was Masami’s.

“Haruya…” Masami gasped, his voice hoarse.

re sre still alive, aren’t we?” Haruya whispered against his ear.

“Yeah…” Masami replied. “Yeah we are.”

Haruya pulled his friend down so he could whisper directly into his ears. “Then make me feel it, Masami. Make me feel alive.”

If ever there was a moment where Masami was the one caught off-guard by their intimacy, this was it. He drew back and stared intently into Haruya’s face, as if waiting for a punchline that would end the joke and let everyone go home happy. But Haruya wasn’t joking. And he wasn’t going home happy, either. He wasn’t going home at all.

“Are you sure?”

Haruya nodded and cupped Masami’s face with both hands, tenderly caressing his teammate’s cheeks. “I trust you…”

These words seemed to place a spell on Masami, because all doubt vanished from his face and his lips curled into a smile—no, not that smug grin of his but a different smile altogether, a smile that spoke in his silence and told Haruya that he was in for the night of his life. And if that life should come to an end, he will look back on this as one of the highlights, definitely.

Masami’s hands grabbed him by his knees and pulled his legs to ove over the other boy’s hips, all the while placing reassuring kisses on his lips. Haruya was beyond his own recognition now, even as he realized that his legs were being spread open and Masami was working up a large gob of saliva in his mouth, before finally spitting it onto his waiting hand. Haruya closed his eyes, waiting for what he knew was to come. He’d seen it before, in the odd movie or two that somehow ended up among his friends’ porn collection, the kind of stuff that you watch with your guy friends and make noises of disgust even as your heart tells you that you’re fascinated beyond words.

A moist finger was probing him, his virgin asshole contracting around the invading digit, and Haruya had to wonder if Masami actually had done this with another guy, so sure was his movements, projecting an aura of calm that helped Haruya’s own nerves from getting the better of him. The finger worked him, in and out, in and out, and Haruya’s eyes fluttered, a scarlet haze moving over him as Masami gently rocked him under the cover of the blanket, and through the gaps he glimpsed the walls and ceilings, dancing with their shadows, and the candle that marked the life of those who had passed burned on, and Haruya wondered what Shugo, Shintaro or Wataru would think if they saw them now.

Two fingers now, slowly stretching him open, and Haruya bit his lip to stop the slightly pained whimper from escaping his lips, but Masami came to the rescue with his slow kisses, taking away his worries, those fingers thrusting, loosening him up for the real invasion, and Haruya repeated his mantra of trust in his own head, willing himself to give in, to let go of the barriers he’d erected around himself, the self-protective shell of nonchalance that had shielded him from his family’s pain of Saki’s disappearance, to feel and truly feel, lest he forgot altogether that he was capable of it.

“Haruya…” Masami said as he drew his fingers out, setting his hands on Haruya’s hips. “You really want me to do this?”

“Do it.” Haruya replied, his voice cracking under intense desire. “I want you to.”

With a nod and a firm hold Masami thrust forward, damn it but the Kansai boy wasn’t playing gentle, and soon Haruya was screaming in earnest, no longer caring for the others, for one blissful moment removed from his shambly surroundings and in ace ace where only he and Masami existed, and inside of him Masami felt large and hot, and wet, and as they moved together, bodies joined, arms grappling for hold on slippery skin, Masami hit his sweet little spot and Haruya’s eyesight exploded into a blur of stars and scarlet mist, the scent of sweat and the old, dank blanket and Masami’s body all rolled into one, and he held on tight with his arms around Masami’s neck as his teammate rode him, impaling him, moving with him.

“Masami…” he whimpered against the other boy’s ears.

“Oh, you’re tight…” Masami’s voice was caught halfway in his throat. “So fucking tight…”

Haruya’s head fell limp on his vest, his bronze hair now matted with sweat, his body rocking from the thrusting movements Masami made into his body, his legs dangling over the sides of his friend’s hips. Masami fucked with the same manner as he played---no holds barred, no buit, it, just pure action and sweaty energy. Haruya whimpered after a particularly savage thrust. Did he always do it this way? What girl could withstand this sort of frenetic fucking?

Masami reached between them and found Haruya’s erection, stroking it in rhythm to his thrusts, and Haruya bit down on his lip so hard it started to bleed. The tremors that shook him seemed to overtake his whole body, blood was rushing in his veins, and Masami’s slick hand was stroking him, bringing him nearer and nearer to a climax that he knew would shame any he’d ever had before in his life.

And he was right.

When he came, he came hard, spurting into his friend’s waiting hand, a strangled cry from his mouth that Masami quickly swallowed into his own, his own cock still thrusting, still giving Haruya the fuck of his lifetime. Haruya’s ears were ringing with that post-orgasmic buzz but he knew that it was far from over, Masami still had unfinished business inside him and he wasn’t about to leave withgettgetting the job done. Haruya rode out the last remnants of his consciousness as Masami seemed to thrust harder and harder, more frantic, finally letting out a loud, sustained moan and Haruya felt it, felt his release, felt the heated flesh inside him throb and sputter, and Masami’s dark head fell on his shoulder in a slump, his breathing hot against Haruya’s chest.

Wordless, they held each other through the last subsiding waves of their coupling, their bodies sweat-drenched, Haruya still pinned under Masami’s weight even as the black-haired boy pulled out of him, the only movement in the room being the rise and fall of their heaving chests and the candle’s dancing shadows, phantoms of friends gone and mourned, and two of the living lay in each other’s arms in silent, momentary bliss.

“Did I…” Masami said after what seemed like eternity. “Did I hurt you?”

“No…” Haruya assured him. “Not at all.”

“Was it—”

“Good?”

“Yeah.”

“It was beyond good.” Haruya said. “It was something else entirely.”

Smiling, Masami pulled him into his embrace and kissed the tip of his nose. “Did I make you feel alive?”

“You certainly did.” Haruya said. “For the first time in a long, long while.”

“Since Saki?”

Haruya nodded.

Masami ran his fingers through Haruya’s damp hair and kissed his mouth. “Don’t worry, Haruya. You will live.”

“You think so?”

Masami smiled, that gentle smile Haruya was sure nobody else had seen before. “You will live…”

They held each other tightly under the blanket, ignoring the mess of strewn clothes around and under them, and Haruya soon fell into what was his first peaceful slumber in more than a year.

------------------------

“I gave it to them, like you said.”

“Thank you, Maki.”

“You could’ve given it yourself, you know…”

Saki Sakurai shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t face him. I can’t even look in his eyes.”

“Saki…”

“He shouldn’t be here. Why him? Wasn’t it enough that it had happened to me, now it’s happe to to him, too?”

“It’s not too late, Saki. He may yet survive this.”

“I hope so…”

Maki Souda laid a comforting hand on the sniper’s shoulder and Saki reached up to intertwine their fingers, warmth seeping through the material of her gloves. Maki was smoking the cigarette that Haruya’s friend had given her, Shibaki was his name, if she recalled collectly their rather awkward introduction.

“His friend…” she said. “Was he with him?”

“The little guy with the short hair?” Maki asked. “Yeah. Seems real fond of your brother.”

“Might as well…” Saki nodded. “I can’t look after him, but someone has to.”

“Saki..”

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you give them your blanket? It’s one our nicest ones, too…”

Saki closed her eyes as a single tear rolled down her right cheek. “Haruya…I want him to have something of me, even if he doesn’t know it. So a part of me will stay with him.”

Maki gripped her shoulder a little tighter. “Do you really think we’ll die tomor”
”

With a heavy sigh, Saki looked down at the Dragunov rifle lying across her lap and nodded. “I think we will.”

“Then we shall die together.” Maki said. “They way we should.”

“Yes…” Saki agreed. “The way we should.”

-------------------

“Sister…I’ll never forget you.”

With those words Haruya Sakurai turned away from his sister as she stood ready on the lookout, Dragunov in firing position, not seeing the tear that fell from Saki’s eyes as he headed towards the escape tunnel, Masami Shibaki following close behind him.

Nanahara Shuya gave Saki an inquisitive look but she ignored him, focusing instead on the task at hand, on spotting the first landing craft carrying the soldiers that would most probably bring the Wild Seven to their deaths, anything, anything to take her mind and heart off her brother’s parting words, knowing that she might not ever see him again, or hear his voice.

Goodbye, Haruya.

I hope you survie this.

Please forgive me.

---------------------

“You want to go back, don’t you?”

Even as Nao asked the question Masami could tell what Taku’s answer would be. The blonde boy stared back at his friends, already facing the opposite direction, his face bearing a look of gritty determination Masami had never seen on him before, not even in the fiercest, most competitive of all their rugby matches.

“I…” Haruya was the first one to step forward, but Masami placed a firm hand on his chest, holding him back.

Not you, Haruya. You want to live. So live you will.

He looked into the eyes of his past night’s lover and gave him a nod he hoped would communicate his feelings, and Haruya’s face became sullen with resignation. Masami held his gaze and let his hand linger on Haruya’s shoulder for just a bit longer, before finally walking towards Taku, his rifle in hand, and with Osamu trailing after him, said to the blonde boy:

“I’m going.”

-------------------------------------

There was pain, pain like he’d never known before in his life, pain that burned and seared and made his vision hazy, and with his last remaining strength as he lay on the steel stairwell Masami looked up, seeing in the haze of pain the stunned face of Takuma, his large eyes disbelieving.

“Shibaki!”

Taku’s voice calling out his name, but the pain was so great, so great it seemed to eat away at his body, and Masami’s breath became heavy in his lungs and he tasted blood on his tongue.

“I’m glad I made friends….” he whispered. “Go, now…”

“SHIBAKI!!!”

With Taku’s last scream whirling in his head Masami felt only cold, cold that was rapidly taking over his entire being, and his bloodied hand was the last thing he saw as he drowned in agy sgy scarlet haze.

Scarlet as the silken flames of Haruya’s hair in the firelight, the blood on his lips as he stopped himself from screaming while Masami made love to him, scarlet as the folds they slept under last night, for once knowing peace in a world that had none.

Haruya…

His last thought was a name, a name attached to a beautiful face he knew he would never see again.

Haru--

Then he felt no more.

-------------------------------------------

*Three months later. Spring.*

Their temporary home was in the mountain range near the town of Nowabad, near the Tajikistan border. The girls lit a fire and they sat around it, Nao looking the happiest now that Taku had returned, alive. Scarred, but alive. He’d been proudly showing them the mark where a bullet had struck him on his shoulder, but Haruya could see that he was feigning some cheer for the girls’ sake.

Nanahara had driven away with Noriko and the two children earlier that day and they were once again left to their own devices, trying to carve an uncertain life in an uncertain environment.

Now Haruya and Taku sat alone some distance away from the fire, well away from the girls’ earshot, and they sat on the red woolen blanket that Haruya had brought from the island, folded and tucked into his vest, reason being that it might give him extra protection but really all he wanted was to keep a memento of his night with Masami.

Basamasami was dead.

He knew it even before the vehicle carrying Nanahara and Taku had come to a halt. If Masami had been with them, he would’ve known. He would’ve felt it. And in the three agonizing monhts of not knowing, deep down something was always telling him that his friend, his sanctuary, was gone.

“I’m sorry, Haruya…”

“Don’t be.” Haruya said. “It was his choice.”

You will live, Haruya…

“How…” he fought to speak over the lump in his throat. “How did he die, Taku?”

“He died fighting.” Taku replied sullenly. “He was shot…several times…and he looked up at me…and he had this smile, on faceface.”

Haruya’s tears fell, shamelessly, wetting the cloth of the scarf he wore around his neck. He’d been waiting for this for three months. Waiting for the confirmation to shed the tears he’d so long wanted to shed, but couldn’t do so without knowing for sure that his last hope had been destroyed.

“He said ‘I’m glad I made friends’. That’s what he said.” Taku’s own voice was faltering. “Then…he died.”

Haruya buried his face in his hands, his shoulders heaving. He cried, he cried for his lost friend, his lost hope, the endless days and nights that he’d always thought would’ve been that much bearable if Masami had been there with him, but now he knew for sure that Masami would never be with him, ever again.

“I…I’ll go talk to the girls.” Taku said, standing up and leaving him, either shaken by his tears or knowing that Haruya needed some time alone with his grief, or both.

As Taku left Haruya slumped onto hrecirecious blanket, his trembling fingers gathering the fabric around his body, wrapping it tightly around him, longing for warmth, longing for comfot, longing for the friend who would not return. He’d slept in this blanket every night for the last three months, hoping for Masami’s return, hoping yet knowing at the same time that his hopes would be crushed, but knowing beforehand did not make it hurt any less.

His sister dead, his friends dead, now his besiendiend, too. What could life take away from him now except life itself?

Haruya breathed deeply into the scarlet weave, Masami’s scent an elusive ghost dancing among the threads, a night’s memory that a lifetime would never erase. He glanced above at the starlit sky and willed the constellations to form his friend’s face, to see that smile again, to feel safe and warm again, in the place he’d least expected to.

You will live, Haruya…

He'd been searching for answers.

What he found was love.

~FIN~