This story takes place the night of the star-watching festival.   Originally it was going to be part one of seven—one for each of Suzaku's seishi, but that turned out to be really hard. (I just couldn't get into the others—except Tasuki—enough to make them believable.)  Maybe one day I'll go back to them, but until then, consider this to be it.

 

RAPTURE

by Angela

 

            "So where do you suggest we look now?" Tasuki asked impatiently, tapping his halisen on one hand.  "We've gone over this damned festival twice and there's no sign of her!"

            Nuriko had to admit that his companion was right.  It was bad enough they'd foolishly lost Miaka—it wasn't doing them a bit of good to be traveling in circles.  It was pretty clear she'd left the area.

            "You don't think . . ."  Tasuki didn't seem to want to finish his thought. 

            "No.  Chichiri checked for Seriyuu seishi before.  We'd feel their chi."  Nuriko wasn't convinced, even as he said the words—Seriyuu's Nakago was good, certainly good enough to hide from them.  But there was no reason to scare Tasuki—things would get ugly if he started to panic.

            Together they prowled through nearby streets and alleyways, searching for any sign of Miaka.  Nuriko concentrated on her image.  He was no magician, but he was bonded to his miko—as long as he focused her could get some vague sense of her.  It was clear that Tasuki was attempting the same kind of search.  His face, screwed up in concentration, would have been comical if Nuriko weren't so frightened for Miaka.

            Wordlessly, the two headed in the same direction.  Nuriko wasn't even sure where he was going until he recognized the road they were on.  It led to the river.

            He broke into a run; the last time they'd found Miaka by the river, she was trying to drown herself.  Tonight she'd been depressed about the failed calling of Suzaku, and it was clear that things weren't good between her and Tamahome.  Nuriko didn't really think she'd be so stupid, but he first time had caught him off guard, too.  "Hurry, Tasuki!"

            When they got to the bridge, they stopped short.  Miaka was there.  Nuriko didn't want to startle her, so he ducked into a shadow, pulling Tasuki along with him.

            "Hey! She's right there!" the bandit protested.  "Why the hell—"

            "Shut up!" Nuriko hissed back.  He was surprised when Tasuki obeyed.

            Miaka looked upset, but it didn't seem like she was going to jump.  Her head was bowed as she gazed into the dark water, and she clutched a bouquet of pale flowers in her hands.  Wordlessly, she tossed them into the rapid current, closing her eyes as if in prayer.

            Nuriko wanted to go to her—just so Miaka wouldn't have to be alone.  He took only half a step from his hiding place before hearing Tamahome's voice.

            "Are those for Amiboshi?"

            Nuriko faded back into the shadows.  Miaka didn't need him or Tasuki as long as Tamahome was nearby.  He watched the couple exchange quiet words before Miaka followed Tamahome into the night.  Nuriko was pleased.  Those two needed some time to work things out.

            "Didn't she dump him?" Tasuki asked crossly.  "I could’a sworn she'd dumped that asshole."  He had his arms crossed and fan in hand, staring in the direction they'd disappeared.

            Nuriko smiled.  "You know how lovers are.  Fighting one minute and kissing the next."  He was pretty sure that Tasuki knew absolutely nothing about lovers, but that the young redhead would be too proud to admit it.  He also knew that his friend was more pleased to see the two together than he'd ever say.  Everyone felt it when Miaka was unhappy.

            "Should we follow them?"

            Nuriko shook his head.  "No, she'll be safe enough with Tamahome.  He won't let anyone hurt her."

            Tasuki was clearly skeptical.  "What about the ogre himself?" he asked sharply.  He'd seen things that Nuriko was at a loss to imagine—he'd seen what damage Tamahome could do to a trusting girl like Miaka.  It hadn't been so very long since those tortured hours within Seriyuu territory, so Nuriko tried to understand Tasuki's deep resentment.

            He shook his head decidedly.  "No, that was Nakago, not Tama.  He'd never hurt her."  He squeezed his friend's shoulder reassuringly.  "Trust Tamahome."

            He walked out onto the bridge to where Miaka had stood.  A few white flower petals littered the spot.  Nuriko picked one up and brought it to his face, inhaling deeply.  Its fragrance was light—similar to a scent Nuriko had worn in his days at court.  He closed his eyes, almost hearing the music.  The tune in his head shifted to a darker melody, one of his favorites that Chiriko—no, Amiboshi—used to play.

            Tears stung beneath his lashes as he looked up at Tasuki, who was studying him, a rare look of concern on his face.  "What's wrong with you?" he asked, his brow creasing.

            Nuriko tried to smile.  "Nothing."  He turned around and looked out to the rough waves of the river.  "Why don't you go have a good time tonight?  Who knows how long it'll be before you get another chance."  The next morning they were going to Hokkan country to find the Shinzaho.  "I'll be fine here."

            Tasuki laughed.  "I don't doubt it.  Sure you don't want to come?  It's been a fucking long day.  We could get drunk enough to forget that bastard Nakago for a while."  He bared his fangs in an eager grin.  It was clear he liked his sake and was anxious to get to it.

            "No, you go."  Nuriko shooed him off with a push that sent him halfway across the bridge.  With a friendly snarl, Tasuki was gone, leaving Nuriko alone with his thoughts and Miaka's flower petals.  Amiboshi's flower petals.

            Nuriko had liked the boy and trusted him unquestioningly.  It wasn't until after he was dead—after he'd ruined the Suzaku ceremony and tried to destroy them all with his dangerous music—that Nuriko considered the magnitude of his betrayal.  As Chiriko he'd been loved and trusted, not just as a seishi, but also as a friend.  Just thinking about how he must have laughed at them all—such fools—made Nuriko shiver.  But his music had been so pure . . .   Maybe Miaka was right.  Maybe Amiboshi hadn't really been evil.

            He shuddered at the tears that rolled down his cheeks.  He hadn't cried in so long, it almost hurt to let them go now.  He slid to the ground, leaning his head on his knees.  "Chiriko," he whispered, though he knew his tears were for more than just the boy who had drowned.  They were for Hotohori, too.  They were for Mitsukake, who lost the love of his life twice, and for Chichiri, who clung to his scar and his memories.  As he sobbed into his sleeves, Nuriko realized that he also cried for himself, too—for everything he was and everything he'd never become.

            He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there, but eventually the tears slowed and his breathing became more regular.  As his heartbeat calmed to a more normal pace, Nuriko noticed the music.  It was soft but very close, twisting its way through his mind with its soothing melody.  He hadn't noticed the sound begin, so he guessed it had been playing for some time.  Nuriko looked up.

            Half concealed by shadow on the far end of the bridge, a boy perched on the railing, gently blowing into a wooden recorder.  His fingers danced lightly over the holes, making child's play of art.  A paper lantern lit from within by fireflies rested on the ground beside him.  For a moment Nuriko thought he was seeing a ghost.  Amiboshi?  Entranced, he stood and walked closer.

            The boy did not look up from his music, but it was readily clear that this was not Seriyuu's seishi back from the dead.  He seemed the same age, but this boy's hair was as black as midnight.  His eyes were closed, and long, dark lashes contrasted with pale skin, making him all the more beautiful in the dim starlight.

            "Your tears have stopped.  Do you like what I play for you, Suzaku seishi?"  His voice was as melodic as his recorder—soft and gentle.  It drew Nuriko closer, sucking the air from his lungs.

            "How do you know me?" he asked in a whisper.

            The boy opened his eyes, making Nuriko stumble back a step.  They were like the doves that gathered near the palace, the same soft grew with startling innocence.  "I know all the seishi," the boy said simply.  "And you are Nuriko—the most beautiful of the seven."

            Nuriko didn't know what to say.  The boy's honest tone stunned him and he was unable to think of a reply.  Heat tinted his cheeks, but he felt no more awkward than he did with Tamahome or Tasuki.  Something about this boy calmed him.  He felt familiar, even in his strangeness.

            "I am called Kei," he said lightly.  He smiled, looking impossibly young.

            Nuriko's heart jumped, startling him.  His tastes usually ran to older men; his reaction to this boy was new to him.  "You're right.  I am Nuriko.  How do you know the seishi?"

            Kei smiled again, jumping from his perch on the rail.  Nuriko noticed that they were the same height—chin-to-chin and eye-to-eye.  "My grandfather was a temple priest.  He used to tell me the story of Suzaku no Miko and her seven protectors—how she'd come from another world and become our savior.  He showed me your constellations in the sky—Nuriko, Chiriko, Mitsukake, Hotohori, Tamahome, Tasuki, Chichiri.  Grandfather said that if I was lucky, one day I'd meet one of you."  He smiled playfully, his eyes shining.  "Guess that makes me lucky, huh?"

            His smile made Nuriko's heart pound and he wondered if he weren't the lucky one.  "You're very good with your instrument."  He motioned toward the black recorder in Kei's fist.  "Do you play for money?"

            Kei looked at the recorder with interest, his eyes wide.  "I never thought to.  Do you think I could?"  When Nuriko nodded, the boy continued.  "Then shall we go back to the festival?  I'm certain I could try a bit there."  He cocked his head, looking at the seishi hopefully.  After just a moment's hesitation, Nuriko smiled, picking up the lantern of fireflies.  Like he'd told Tasuki, none of them knew when they'd have another chance to enjoy themselves.

 

            The star watching festival was different with Kei by his side.  Just as he'd been the protector when he'd been there with Miaka, Nuriko became the protected.  It was a role he could get used to.  The boy drew an amazing crowed playing his recorder, and he enjoyed the carnival like a child.  Through him, Nuriko forgot about being a seishi, forgot his duty and allowed himself a kind of youth he thought he'd left behind years before.  Kei was attractive and affectionate, even winning Nuriko a crown of flowers before the night was through.

            Before too long, however, Nuriko was missing the silence of the world outside the village, away from the crowds and the festive lanterns.  Miaka was probably already asleep in her bed—or Tamahome's.  A sharp jab of loneliness twitched in his stomach.  Even with the flowers and the laughter, it wasn't as though anything could continue with this boy.  Kei probably thought he was a woman, anyway.  Nuriko hung his head.  His life as anything more than Suzaku's third seishi seemed hopeless.

            "Tired?" Kei's sweet voice interrupted.  "I can take you back to the palace," he offered slowly.

            Nuriko was seduced by the disappointment in the boy's voice.  "No," he decided.  "No, I just need some fresh air, away from the crowds."  He didn't want to go back to the reality of Hotohori and his duty to Miaka.  Kei's vivid eyes smiled at him.  He didn't want to leave Kei.

            The boy's grin flashed.  "Then we'll walk.  Away from the festival we can see the stars."  He looked so young and innocent.

            "How old are you?" Nuriko asked sharply.  Sometimes he seemed like an adult, but when he smiled, the seishi wondered if he could really be much more than a child.

            "Does it matter?" Kei asked, his grin fading. 

            Suddenly it didn't.  Nuriko shook his head silently, a smile tugging his lips.  Kei smiled back, taking his hand in the darkness.

            As they walked, Kei told Nuriko about his childhood, growing up in the mountains with his grandfather and sister.  He'd moved to the city with his sister less than a year before, when his grandfather died.  "She works in the emperor's palace.  That's how I first found out that the miko had been discovered and the seishi were gathering."

            Nuriko felt a twinge of guilt at the mention of the emperor.  Hotohori.  Since his first meeting with the beautiful emperor almost a year ago, Nuriko had never looked to another.  Until that night.  The longer Kei talked to him, the more attracted Nuriko became.  He felt as though he were betraying his love, but at the same time, being more true to himself than he ever had been.

            It was a strange thing, this instant connection he felt to the boy, similar to the bond he'd forged with Miaka.  It took only a moment in her presence to make him realize that she was Suzaku no Miko and he would devote the rest of his life to protecting her.  How he'd resented the idea at first!  Now Nuriko wondered briefly if Kei had anything to do with Miaka or with the Suzaku.  He shrugged off the idea.  How could he?  The true seishi were gathered, so there was no one else left for Kei to be.

            "You look pensive."  Kei was studying him inquisitively.  "Does my knowing of the miko bother you?"

            Nuriko shook his head.  "No.  I just wonder why you're so interested.  It's not such a great destiny, being Suzaku's seishi."

            Kei grinned again, making Nuriko feel like he was being swept into the boy.  "You're so modest," he laughed.  "Ever since I was a little kid, I wished I'd been born a seishi.  I used to pretend my sister was Suzaku no Miko and . . ." he trailed off sheepishly.  "I'll bet you think it's all pretty silly."

            Nuriko didn't think anything of the sort.  His words reminded him of Korin, and suddenly he could imagine Kei as a young child.  "I'm sure your adventures were more fun than mine," he said wistfully.  "The emperor really pushes us to work, and it's dangerous."

            "But you were chosen by the Suzaku," Kei said with awe.  "That's wonderful."  He stopped walking and looked at Nuriko, holding up his lantern to see better.  In the gold-green glow of the fireflies, the seishi noticed that the boy's eyes were wide and full of emotion.  "I've heard you're tougher than nails, Nuriko.  .  . and so very lovely."  He pushed Nuriko's hair from his forehead with his free hand, letting his fingertips trail down his cheekbone.  "Truly worthy of being two steps from God."

            The skin on Nuriko's arms prickled into goose bumps.  It was as if Kei's touch were icy, when in truth his hand was warm, even hot, against his face.  Nuriko's heart began to pound.  Kei's caress was like that of a lover.  Nuriko realized that it was something he wanted very much.

            "Kei," he whispered, unable to stop looking at him.  He'd never felt this way before—it was different than with Hotohori.  Even at his most beautiful, the emperor never entranced Nuriko to where he couldn't look away, couldn't breathe.

            The warmth of Kei's breath on his face made Nuriko close his eyes.  He tilted his face slightly, unconsciously welcoming the younger boy's kiss.  Their lips met softly, moving together slowly and carefully.  Kei kissed him gently, cupping Nuriko's cheek in his hand as if to support him as his mouth wreaked havoc on the seishi's senses.

            Nuriko's head was spinning.  Even after Kei ended the kiss and smiled at him through the darkness, he had a hard time clearing his head from the dizziness of such an intimate caress.

            "Shall we rest here?"

            Nuriko was mystified.  Had they been going somewhere, or was this walk, this kiss, their destination?  He blinked in bewilderment, trying to shake the clouds from his mind.

            "To look at the stars," Kei clarified, sweeping his hand up toward the dark sky.

            Nuriko was still blinking.  They were on a grassy embankment not far from the village.  They could still hear the faint music and laughter from the festival, but the meadow was empty and still.  It was the perfect place for stargazing.  He nodded, sitting down on the soft grass.  The moon had set, leaving the sky dark and sparkly with stars.

            Kei sat close beside him.  Lifting a latch on the top of his lantern, he opened it up.  Fireflies flickered and crawled to the opening, spreading their wings to reclaim their freedom.  For a moment the two were surrounded by a blizzard of twinkling insects; Nuriko watched in wonder as they blended with the stars.  Then it was dark.

            "I'm sorry I startled you," Kei began softly, setting the empty lantern aside and leaning back on his elbows.  "I should have asked before I . . ." A light blush stained his cheeks.

            Nuriko looked down at him, admiring the way his dark hair fell over his forehead.  No one had ever apologized for something so sweet and perfect before.  He felt his chest constrict as the boy looked away, ashamed.

            "No," Nuriko protested gently.  "It was okay.  It was perfect."  He looked up at the stars—his constellation had already set beneath the horizon, and Chiriko's was low in the sky.  It was getting very late.

            Kei sat up, touching Nuriko's hair with trembling fingers.  "I've never enjoyed being with someone this much," he admitted softly.  "I've never been as content as I am here with you, beautiful Nuriko."

            Nuriko's heart doubled its pace.  "It's strange.  I feel exactly the same way," he said simply, his voice quivering.  "I'm finding it hard to believe that we just met three hours ago."

            "Has it been just that?" Kei leaned over, his face close to Nuriko's.  "I think I've known you a lifetime."

            When their lips met this time, it was like a whole new world had opened up to Nuriko.  The boy’s mouth was soft and warm, feather-light but insistent against Nuriko's.  He kissed back fervently, parting his lips to Kei's gentle onslaught.  The boy's hands were in his hair, on his back, and Nuriko felt himself being lowered into the soft grass.

            Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered a protest.  Kei thought he was a girl.  The boy's lean fingers twisted in the fabric of Nuriko's tunic, making the seishi realize that if he didn't speak up, his new friend would find out soon enough on his own.  That kind of thing never went over well.

            Nuriko pulled away from the kiss, feeling feverish at the surprise and disappointment in Kei's grey eyes.  He was pinned beneath the boy, his chest heaving, proving his enthusiasm.  There was nothing he could think of that he wanted more than to continue, to be able to see this passion to its conclusion, but he had no choice.

            "I've misled you," Nuriko whispered, not looking away from Kei's eyes.

            "How?"  The boy's breath was ragged and hot as it fell against Nuriko's cheeks.  His mouth was red and swollen from their heavy kisses, and Nuriko had to close his eyes to keep from capturing it again.

            "I'm not what you think.  Yes, I'm Nuriko, third Seishi of Suzaku, but that's not all."  He took a deep breath, trying to steady his voice.  He didn't want too see the anger in Kei's eyes.  He didn't want to feel the shove of his body as he stood up, disgusted.  "I'm a man."  Tears slipped from Nuriko's eyes, clenched shut in self-loathing and fear.

            Kei didn't move.  He didn't speak—for a while he even stopped breathing.  Nuriko wanted to run, but couldn't get up without pushing Kei's weight from his body.  He wouldn't do that, couldn't deprive himself of this last moment of contact.

            "Nuriko."  Kei's voice was shaking.  In an instant, so was his entire body.  The seishi opened his eyes slowly.  It wasn't rage that made the boy tremble.  It wasn't even disgust.  "It doesn't matter," Kei said, his eyes full of shock and wonder.  He put a hand on Nuriko's face, wiping the tears from his cheeks.  "I love you, Nuriko.  I don't care if you're a man or a woman, or even if you were a goldfish.  I'd still love you." 

            Nuriko was shocked.  "Really?" he whispered, unable to find his voice.  "I thought you'd be mad."

            Kei laughed, a musical sound that helped put Nuriko at ease.  "Mad?" he asked gently.  "How could I be mad?" he dropped kisses on Nuriko's cheeks, "I have you in my arms; all I want is to hold you.  Kiss you."  His lips enclosed the seishi's once more, showing him that every word was true.  "Make love to you."

            Nuriko felt his eyes flood with tears.  No one had ever said that—anything remotely like that—to him before.  No one had ever looked at him the way Kei was gazing, or touched him with the same gentle awe.  This whole night was like a dream to Nuriko, and he didn't want to wake from it.

            "I—I feel the same," Nuriko whispered, his cheeks flushing.  "With you I feel alive . . . for the first time in years."

            Kei smiled gently.  He leaned close and nuzzled Nuriko's hair near his ear.  "Then, let’s enjoy living," he murmured softly.  "Let's take the night to learn . . . together."

            Kei's hands still shook as he untied the belt knotted at Nuriko's waist.  Sliding his fingers beneath the fine material, he parted it slowly, letting his eyes travel the length of Nuriko's lean chest. 

The seishi pushed the dark blue silk of Kei's garments from his shoulders, leaning upward to taste the younger boy's collarbone and throat.  Nuriko was aware of every sensation, the feel of Kei's hands on his stomach and his breath on his chest, the scent of his fine hair as it fell over his forehead.  He arched against the boy pulling his closer so that no space came between them.  His body demanded what his mind could barely comprehend, and Kei answered without hesitating.

With a sharp intake of air, Nuriko gave himself to the boy's caress.  His heart was racing and his breath came in short, shallow gasps.  The cool air did nothing to ease the fever that Kei was creating, and Nuriko was eager to cause the same reaction in his lover.  Trying to ignore the havoc the boy was wreaking on his senses, the seishi slid his hands across Kei's stomach and untied the laces of his pants. 

"Nuriko," Kei whispered, breathless and wonderful.

Nuriko smiled at him, pausing to push his unruly braid over his shoulder.  Kei caught his face with both hands, his eyes bright.  The sight of them made Nuriko heady.  His insides suddenly felt like they'd melted, as though he'd puddled beneath his lover, beneath the shimmering constellations.

 

A while later, Nuriko understood a lot more about living than he had before.  He lay on a soft blanket made of their tunics, his head pillowed in Kei's lap.  His lover combed through his hair with his fingers, twisting the long strands around his hands.  Even with the night air cool on his bare chest, Nuriko felt warm and content.

They'd been still for a long time, and the fireflies twinkled fearlessly all about them.  Stars for the Earth, Nuriko thought, just like seishi.  "Your name," he began slowly, letting one of the glowing insects climb across his palm.  "Kei means 'firefly,' right?"

"Sometimes," the boy answered mysteriously.  "But not in my case."  He traced a pattern on Nuriko's neck—one familiar from being drawn a thousand times before in the course of the seishi's lifetime.  "Your character stands for "willow." 

It wasn't a question, so Nuriko didn't answer.

"Deceptive," the boy continued after a while.  "Willow trees look delicate and fragile, but in truth are strong and hardy."  He smiled at Nuriko through the darkness.  "Just like my Nuriko."  There was something wistful in his tone, something that made the seishi unaccountably sad.  He looked up at the boy's eyes, but was disturbed by the distant loneliness in his gaze.

Nuriko turned instead to the sky.  Mitsukake's constellation was only half-visible above the horizon, his own set long before.  It had been the same for as long as he could remember, and would continue unchanged long after he was gone: Nuriko, Chiriko, Mitsukake, Hotohori, Tamahome, Tasuki, Chichiri.  He knew there were no accidents in the universe—no coincidences.  He closed his eyes against the sky, against the meaning he'd always understood in them.

"It doesn't have to be that way," Kei said softly, his voice a continuation of Nuriko's thoughts.  "Even the stars can be proven wrong."

The seishi sat up, shivering.  He reached for his tunic and pulled it over his shoulders.  "Destiny is never wrong," he said with a bitter laugh.

Kei tugged gently at Nuriko's hair, pulling it free of the tunic so he could braid it.  Nuriko closed his eyes, wanting to remember forever the feeling of the boy's hands twisting his hair.

"You don't have to accept that path," Kei whispered urgently.  "You could stay with me."

Nuriko suddenly had the feeling that his lover came from nowhere and had no place to go.  "Stay?" he asked softly.  "Here on this knoll, beneath the stars?"  His heart felt like it had slowed, like time was frozen, awaiting his decision.

"They won't be so offensive," Kei explained seductively, "once they free their hold on you.  Stay with me."  He kissed Nuriko's ear, his neck.  "Stay right here where I can love you."

He wanted to.  His whole life he'd lived for Korin, then for Miaka.  Nuriko wanted to live for himself, to stay with his lover on this lonely stretch of grass for the rest of his life. 

He twisted around to look at Kei.  The boy's face was haunting, pale and beautiful in the dim light.  His soft eyes seemed otherworldly, ageless and mesmerizing.  Nuriko felt himself falling.  He tried to form the words to forsake his god, to break allegiance with Suzaku and its miko.

Miaka.  The image of her face, soft with affection and laughter, intruded on Nuriko's peace.  She was so honest, genuine.  Nuriko had come to care for her—a great deal more than he'd expected.  She was like a sister, a kindred friend.

"I can't forsake Miaka."  He was hardly aware he spoke the words out loud.  "She needs me."

Kei dropped his hands from Nuriko's shoulders.  "She has six," he protested softly.

"She needs seven." Nuriko's mind was made up.  His heart ached and he wanted to take back every word, to hold onto Kei and never leave, but he knew he could not.  He clenched his hands into fists, trying to steel his resolve.

Kei crawled about to face the seishi.  His eyes were wild and glassy with tears.  Nuriko winced.  Those eyes hurt.  "But you'll die!" the boy argued desperately.  "You know the stars!  You know she'll kill you!"

Nuriko knew.  For seventeen years he'd watched Suzaku arc across the sky, watched every night as his constellation disappeared beyond the western horizon almost before Chichiri's had risen.  He'd hated Miaka for what she was, for the way she made truth out of what Nuriko had prayed was only legend.

Then she went away, and he understood.  He was a seishi, destined not only to live for his miko, but to die for her too.  His existence beyond her was limited to nights like this—snippets of time outside of time when he could snatch at life.  Like falling in love with Kei—one night would have to be a lifetime for Nuriko.

"I know," Nuriko said, his voice barely audible. 

"You love me."  Once again, it wasn't a question.

Nuriko looked away—even sad, the boy was impossibly lovely.  "I'll carry you with me," he said, touching his chest with his fingertips.  "I'll carry this night."

Kei looked helplessly about him, as if searching for a solution within the grass and wildflowers.  "I can't leave this spot."

Nuriko nodded, understanding.  Kei wasn't like anyone he'd met before.  He was a gift, his one chance to be someone other than Nuriko, third Seishi of Suzaku.

"Stay with me, then," Nuriko asked softly.  "Stay with me until the dawn?"  He touched Kei's cheek, his heart leaping as the boy closed his eyes and leaned into the caress. 

They lay in the fragrant grasses, arms wrapped tightly around each other.  Nuriko looked up at the star-studded sky, for the first time not seeing seishi.  Void of constellations, the sky was beautiful, random.

He nestled into the warmth of his lover, content to pretend, for just the night, that the world really was arbitrary.  Kei's heart beat near his ear, lulling Nuriko toward sleep.  "What does your name mean, then?" he asked, closing his eyes drowsily. 

Kei kissed him gently, silent for so long that the seishi was halfway into his dreams by the time the boy's answer drew him out.  "Rapture," he whispered softly, his voice heavy with sleep.  "I am your rapture." Nuriko peeked through his eyelashes at the night around him.  The stars, the boy, the fireflies—all would be gone when he woke at dawn.  He rolled over, kissing Kei until his eyes opened.  The boy blinked in sleepy confusion, not yet awake enough to understand what Nuriko was asking.  The seishi kissed him again.  If one night was all they'd be given, Nuriko was determined to make it last as long as possible.