Taming Frenzied Butterflies | Pt. 2 Uneasy Rest

[owned_by_a_cat]

Title: Taming Frenzied Butterflies
Fandom: Brave 10
Genre:  Romance/Adventure
Rating: M
Pairing: Saizo/Kamanosuke, with a bit of Rokuro/Yukimura on the side

Author's Note: Where Saizo has to deal with a rather paranoid Kamanosuke. So, what else is new?

<< Part 1

Part 2: Uneasy Rest

Two hours later Saizō was decidedly short of breath and desperately in need of a bath. Kamanosuke wasn't in much better shape. His voice grated, scratchy from yelling and he swayed with exhaustion. The small clearing looked as if two armies had met in battle, but Kamanosuke now controlled a blade of air. Admittedly, his control was haphazard at times – wavering with the redhead's temper – but it was a much better start than Saizō had expected. And though he wouldn't say it aloud, the samurai was impressed."One more time," he yelled across the expanse of trampled grass, jumping high as a tightly bundled stream of air shot towards him. At the last moment, Kamanosuke yanked on the kusarigama's chain, the air stream changed direction and Saizō felt heat along his bicep instead of the blunt force he'd come to expect from the redhead's wind attack.

It cuts. Now that is ... interesting.

He somersaulted in midair and narrowly avoided the next strike while closing the distance between himself and the redhead. Now that Kamanosuke was working towards a more focussed attack technique, Saizō needed a workable defence and close-quarters seemed the best option. Get inside the other fighter's range and distract him.

Another hot slice along his arm told him he was underestimating the speed of Kamanosuke's air blade. He ducked under the whizzing chain and rolled out of the way of the slicing air coming up an arm's length away from the redhead. Heat streaked along his jaw – the kama, shit! – and then Kamanosuke yelped and the howl of the wind died around them.

"Don't drop your guard, just because you've scratched me." Saizō's voice was calm and the hand holding the kunai to Kamanosuke's throat didn't waver. "You wouldn't do that if you faced an enemy."

"You're not an enemy," Kamanosuke argued, green eyes narrowed. "The old man sent us on an errant. We can't do our job if I cut you to ribbons."

"As if, brat." The kunai disappeared and Saizō ran fingers along his jaw line. They came away wet. He wondered if praise for the developing technique would help or hinder, but Kamanosuke promptly solved that problem for him.

"I'm not the one bleeding. You're getting slow, Saizō." The redhead bounced on the balls of his feet as he fingered the tear in Saizō's sleeve. "Admit it, Saizō, you didn't think I could do it!"

Saizō made a face. "I didn't think you could do it. Are you happy now?"

"Yes!" Despite his elation, the redhead sat down rather heavily in the middle of the clearing. Saizō had the urge to point out Kamanosuke's lack of stamina, but he bit his tongue. It seemed prudent, seeing that Yuri had developed a brand new wind technique to prove to Saizō that his attacks weren't clumsy. At least this way, Saizō reasoned, he might have the chance to sleep at the end of their daily travels.

While Kamanosuke caught his breath, the Iga nin squinted through the canopy at the gathering clouds, wondering if the rain might hold off long enough for him to take a bath and enjoy the garden at the inn. The clouds were a deep grey edged in black and massing over half the sky making it really too close to call.

"Come on, lazybones. We'd best get moving if you don't want to get wet."

"I don't mind a bit of rain," the infuriating redhead yawned, not moving from his position. "Can't we stay here? It's much more relaxing than the inn."

Saizō's eyebrows hit his hairline. "How can a patch of grass in the woods be more relaxing than a proper inn, you nitwit? I want a bath and a decent dinner. And I don't mind sleeping indoors and on a futon for a change."

Kamanosuke's green eyes caught fire at the insult. "It's safer out here. Inns are traps. If you want a bath, there's a stream. If you want dinner, we can cook something. And I'd rather sleep under a tree in the fresh air."

"Are you fucking serious? How can an inn be a trap?"

"Are you fucking stupid?" Kamanosuke was on his feet now, hands on hips and yelling. "But it figures. You wouldn't see a trap, even if you walked into it."

Saizō had no idea where all of that was coming from but it was easy to see that the redhead was fired up. And damn serious. And he looked as enticing as hell.

Don't go there...

Saizō swallowed and sent a few unkind wishes winging towards Ueda. He'd known the brat would be trouble, as soon as Sanada had suggested the journey. He'd known it and yet... when had he ever listened to his instincts?

"Bend your brain to this riddle, o mighty samurai," Kamanosuke grated the words through his teeth. "How can such a smart-looking inn survive in an insignificant place like this, eh? This is not a trade route, the village is tiny and yet... "

"The innkeeper charges high prices. There's a caravan of pilgrims once a year and they pay so much, the innkeeper doesn't need customers for the rest of the time." Saizō scrabbled around frantically trying to come up with reasons. Any reasons. Anything at all that would negate the logic of Kamanosuke's words. "The inn is the daimyo's secret love nest."

The sound of Kamanosuke's laughter stopped him in his tracks. "And you tell me I'm crazy," the redhead chuckled as me made his way across the ruined clearing to Saizō's side. "It's like I said. You wouldn't see a trap even if you walked into it."

"So you'll stay at the inn with me?"

The redhead didn't pull off his nonchalant shrug. There was something in all this that really bothered him. But he found his voice after a time, along with some of his customary bravado. "I don't like it. But Sanada expects us back, so if you want to risk your life for a bath, I'm gonna look out for you."

xxX oOo Xxx

They reached the inn just as the rain was starting to turn from a drizzle to a downpour, so the chance of enjoying the peace of the gardens was gone. Then Kamanosuke insisted that they'd take turns getting cleaned up; depriving Saizō of the long soak he'd been looking forward to. At least the redhead didn't decide to turn the innkeeper's wife away when she came to serve dinner.

It bothered Saizō how quiet the usually so boisterous man had been ever since they'd returned to the place. He sat beside the open shoji, eyes on the wet garden and face in a frown and Saizō had to call him three times before he'd consent to come and at least look at what was a splendid dinner.

The miso and eggplant soup was excellent, but Kamanosuke did not touch his bowl, just as he had left the beans in plum sauce and dish of carrot and wakame with sesame dressing. He ignored the green tea, the soy sauce and selection of pickles their host offered, even though Saizō knew the his companion usually relished everything sour and salty. Kamanosuke even shook his head at bottle of sake that Saizō tilted in his direction – just when the samurai had thought he'd found a way to wipe the frown from the redhead's face. But no, Kamanosuke stuck to small bites of rice and steamed fish, eating with a deliberation Saizō had never seen him display before.

"Are you...," it actually sounded too stupid to say out loud, but Saizō couldn't stop. "... waiting to succumb to poison?"

"Not poison," came the redhead's quiet reply. "Sleeping drugs. They taste bitter, so they hide them in soy or pickles or sake."

"They?"

"Innkeepers."

"And for why?" Saizō was feeling more than a little irritated with the redhead now. First the snit on the road – and Saizō conveniently forgot that he'd started that one – and now this paranoia. "It's not as if we carry anything worth robbing."

Deep green eyes measured him for the longest time. "You're of great value to an innkeeper, you just don't know it."

Saizō had no answer for that and Kamanosuke clearly didn't want to discuss the matter either. So Saizō continued his meal, but ate more slowly, almost as if he was waiting and watching for the effects of a drug. Nothing happened and soon the only sound in the room was the thrumming of rain on the roof.

Saizō stretched out on his futon, relaxing with a deep sigh into the cushions. He would not readily admit it, but he much preferred the comfort of a mattress to camping under trees. Especially when the rain poured down outside like an angry river. From the far side of the room came the soft rustle of Kamanosuke getting situated and Saizō smiled. Surely now, Kamanosuke would agree that staying at an inn had its advantages.

Their sparring match might have tired the redhead, but Saizō had soon to accept that it hadn't erased Kamanosuke's unease. He fussed with the pillows and blankets for the longest time and, once he'd settled, Kamanosuke lay rigid and unmoving. His breathing was shallow and strained and the tension surrounding him was thick enough to cut.

The redhead's strange behaviour made no sense to Saizō. They were as safe as two shinobi could ever be. This was an inn, not an enemy's hideout. And yet, the usually so heedless brat acted as if he had walked into an ambush and was waiting to be attacked. It made just as little sense as the brat's continuous attempts to goad Saizō into a fight and after a while the samurai gave up trying to puzzle out his companion.

Instead, Saizō recalled the jolt of heat he'd felt on first seeing Kamanosuke's face on the bridge. The fine, porcelain skin, the impossibly red hair draped loosely over one shoulder, the delicate tracery of the tattoo had all left their mark on Saizō's mind. He recalled the lean body draped over his on the ship and suppressed a shiver. The brat had been drunk – Kamanosuke would never have been that tactile otherwise – but that hadn't stopped Saizō from enjoying the contact. He obviously had a soft spot for the redhead. Or a rather hard one, depending on how he looked at the matter.

Of course, Sanada had seen it. Seen it and played on it. The man presented himself as a buffoon, just out for amusement, but Saizō had realised early that his was a long way from the truth. Sanada was perceptive and oddly compassionate. What he gained from arranging the people around him into ever-shifting patterns was something Saizō was unable to answer. He doubted if even Rokurō knew.

They had kept a nightlight burning so they wouldn't be blinded if they needed to fight. And in that dim shine Saizō saw the redhead move. Before he had time to blink, Kamanosuke stood on his futon, knife out, wide green eyes darting around the room.

"What is it? I can't hear anything!"

"Exactly. What happened to the fountain?"

Saizō stilled and listened. The rhythmic clack of the bamboo fountain that had accompanied their evening had stopped. "Kamanosuke, it's raining outside. Heavily. Maybe the fountain's overrun." It was as likely an explanation as any, though not one the redhead could easily accept. He settled back onto the mattress, but his body stayed alert, the knife held in a tense grip.

Saizō was almost asleep again when the sound of the fountain returned. Restless now, he dozed. He heard the fountain cut out once more, heard the rhythmic clacking return. And every time he woke or moved, eyes blinked open across the room and he found himself caught in a deep green gaze.

Kamanosuke slept like a cat.Forever aware of his surroundings and alert to every sound and movement. No wonder the brat liked to stay abed until the sun was high if he measured his rest in brief snatches.

"You're paranoid," Saizō mumbled at one such meeting of gazes, caught on the edge of sleep.

"But I am still alive."

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