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Lost Ground, Lost Souls	By : Quycksylver Category: +S to Z > s-CRY-ed/Scryed Views: 4059 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own s-CRY-ed, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Disclaimer: No, I don’t own
s.CRY.ed, dammit… If I did, I would have found better things
for the boys to do together than fight! ^_^

A/N: Many
thanks to Brightdreamer and her mad proofreading skillz...and for
putting up with my constant questions of “Hey... think this
will work?” as I hammer out various plot points. You rock,
girlfriend!

This story will contain yaoi, which for the
uninitiated and uninformed means two boys doing the hoop-de-doop.
Don’t like it? Bugger off and go read something else. Don’t
like it and read it anyway…go ahead and flame me--I don’t
give a damn. This story will also contain mature themes, disturbing
imagery, and possibly character death—maybe even multiple
character deaths—I just don't know yet. Consider yourselves
warned.

Lost Ground, Lost Souls

Chapter 4

Five
days passed before Kazuma was well enough
to travel—even Ryuhou hadn't expected
it to take that long, but the infection running riot through his
rival's body had an even tighter grip on the other man than he had
feared. For much of that time, Kazuma had remained unconscious,
drenched in fever-sweat, sometimes raving to or about the mysterious
“Shima,” sometimes muttering
the names of other people that Ryuhou assumed he had known in the
past. Once or twice he heard his own name pass through the parched,
cracked lips, but when he went over to check on the other man, he
found him still unconscious, still trapped in dreams of the past.

Finally,
the night before last, Kazuma's fever had
broken, and his patient/prisoner had returned to a sort of sluggish
semi-consciousness. Yesterday, he had been able to sit up, but had
remained sullenly uncommunicative—not that Ryuhou had expected
him to behave any differently. Although Kazuma was still weak, he
now seemed to be out of danger, and Ryuhou decided that they would
set off for the ruined village the next morning. Even
now, it would, perhaps, be better to wait another day or two, but the
former HOLY officer was quickly reaching the end of his limited
supplies. While they still had an almost endless hoard of the
tasteless field ration bars, the dehydrated broth that he had
brought to give himself a break from the rations—and which was
the only thing that Kazuma could keep down—was close to running
out.

“Why'd
you keep me alive?”

The
sudden question drew Ryuhou's gaze from the
duffel bag he was packing, and he turned to
glance over at the younger man, one eyebrow arching inquiringly,
“Would you have preferred that I let you die?”

Kazuma
shrugged as if the question was immaterial, “Isn't that what
you always wanted?”

Ryuhou
blinked, gaping dumbfoundedly at his prisoner, “I...”
Quickly averting his gaze, he turned back to his task, “Only if
you die by my hand—anything
else just wouldn't be as...satisfying.”

The
younger Alter apparently found Ryuhou's answer acceptable as a faint
grin slanted across his face. His eye slid closed as he leaned back
against the cavern wall, “Fair enough... You...might have to
hurry though...if you want the chance...”

“What
do you mean?” Ryuhou's head snapped back up, his eyes
narrowing slightly as he peered over at his captive rival. Kazuma,
however, only rolled his shoulders in another small shrug,
apparently not caring to explain further.

Frowning
slightly, Ryuhou finished loading the rest of his gear into the
duffel bag, zipping it shut afterwards.
Standing up, he slung the bag over his shoulder before leaning down a
little to extend a hand to the other man, “Come on...it's time
to go.”

Ignoring
the outstretched hand, Kazuma levered himself onto his feet under his
own power, bracing himself against the cavern wall with one hand as
he swayed unsteadily for a moment. “Where the fuck are we
going, anyway?”

Ryuhou
didn't answer for a long moment, attempting to gauge
his rival's reaction to their destination. Although Kazuma seemed
calm—even cooperative—at the moment, he doubted that the
other man would remain so once he learned where Ryuhou planned to
take him. As he swept one arm to the side, a bit more of the
cavern's floor disappeared as the smaller, restrained form of Zetsuei
formed in front of him, it's violet ribbons stabbing forward, forcing
Kazuma to take a step backwards. “You destroyed a village,
Kazuma. You're responsible for hurting a great many people—I
won't let you hurt anyone else.”

Kazuma's
eye narrowed dangerously, and for a moment, Ryuhou was certain that
he would have to forcibly restrain his prisoner. To his surprise,
however, Kazuma simply gave another shrug and eased himself around
Zetsuei, still bracing himself against the wall as he stumbled
towards the cave's mouth. “Fine...whatever...Let's go.”

*
* * * * * * * * *

Due
to Kazuma's weakened state, they had to stop more often to allow the
younger man to rest before they could continue on—not that
Kazuma made any complaints, of course. The stubborn Alter would have
driven himself to the point of collapse if Ryuhou hadn't called the
occasional halt to their journey, forcing the other man to sit, to
rest and regain a little of his rapidly dwindling strength.

After
their brief exchange in the cavern, Kazuma had remained mostly
silent, responding to any of Ryuhou's statements or queries with a
grunt, or a roll of his shoulders. As they made their slow progress
across the desert floor, Kazuma a few paces ahead where the former
HOLY officer could keep an eye on his prisoner, Ryuhou had plenty of
time to reflect on the other man's uncharacteristic behavior.

Kazuma
had always been...loud. An obnoxious punk with a hair-trigger
temper, whose bite was much worse than his bark. However,
there had always been an underlying sense of purpose to the other
man's actions—even though Ryuhou hadn't seen that, himself,
until much later. Despite his own earlier beliefs, Kazuma didn't
engage in destruction for its own sake...or, at least, he hadn't.
So...what could have possibly brought this change about? As they
continued their trek across the desert landscape, Ryuhou's eyes
narrowed as he turned a speculative gaze onto the other man's back.

Oblivious
to Ryuhou's scrutiny, Kazuma shuffled along ahead of the other man.
Shoulders slumped, head bowed, his one working eye fixed dully on the
sand beneath their feet, he carried himself nothing like the man
Ryuhou had known. Gone was the muscular body with the fluid, almost
cat-like grace, and in its place was this brittle, too-thin shell
that was only barely capable of remaining upright as it shambled
across the wasteland towards their destination. Gone, too, was the
once defiant spirit—the man Ryuhou had known would never
have allowed himself to be herded along like a stray lamb to the
fold. In this...stranger, however, there was no defiance, no
resistance; only...resignation. What could have happened to change
him so? The only one who could tell him that was Kazuma,
himself...but as usual, the other man offered him no answers.

Within
an hour or two after leaving the cavern,
Ryuhou noticed that Kazuma's already lowered stamina was beginning to
flag. Even after the short time they'd been walking, the other Alter
was already weaving drunkenly, barely able to remain on his feet.
Frowning slightly, Ryuhou watched Kazuma's unsteady progress for a
few moments, noting the stiff, limping movements, the almost absent
rubbing of his right shoulder, but he knew better than to offer any
assistance to the other man. Instead, he called a momentary halt to
their journey, leading his prisoner over to a small outcropping of
rock that provided at least some shelter from the merciless sun.

*
* * * * * * * * *

Lowering
himself carefully to the ground, Kazuma leaned back against one of
the boulders that dotted the desert floor. It was barely two hours
past sunrise, and the heat was already sweltering. His skin felt
greasy with dried sweat and grime—how long had it been since
he'd had a real bath, anyway? A faint frown creased his brow as he
realized that he couldn't remember.

“Here.”

Blinking,
he looked up to find a hand holding a bottle of water before him.
Slowly, his gaze traveled up along the long line of the arm attached
to the hand to discover Ryuhou standing over him. Ryuhou...?
Oh, yeah...he was a prisoner again, and the other man was taking
him...somewhere or other... Something about a village that had been
destroyed.

Grunting
in acknowledgment, he accepted the bottle, tipping it up to his lips
and taking a deep draught as Ryuhou
retreated to another boulder a short distance away. As the cool
liquid eased his parched throat, he felt a little better—not
much, but not quite so feverish, at least. Reaching down with one
hand, he patted his pockets, searching for the crumpled half-pack of
cigarettes he seemed to remember having in his possession. No luck.
Apparently he'd smoked the last of them days ago—hell, maybe
even months ago.

With
a sigh, he raised the water bottle

the
cigarette

to
his lips again, taking another long sip

deep
drag, the acrid taste of smoke rich upon his tongue. Pulling the
smoke deeply into his lungs, he held it a moment before exhaling a
thick, curling plume...which became small, puffy smoke signals as
warm lips pressed against the side of his neck...and a teasing hand
groped him underneath the sheets pooled at his waist.

“Damn,
'Shima,” he laughed, slapping lightly at the other man's
hand—which appeared not to discourage his lover in the
slightest, “How many times has it been now? Three? Four?
Haven't you had enough yet?”

“Three...”
Kimishima replied, plucking the cigarette
from between Kazuma's fingers with his free hand and placing it
between his own lips, the tip flaring a bright cherry-red as he
inhaled. A small grin formed on his lips as he added, “And I
don't think I could ever get enough of you...no matter how many times
we did it.”

Although
increasingly distracted by the rush of warmth his lover's attentions
sent rioting through him, Kazuma turned slightly to glance at the
other man, his own lips quirking into a cynical half-grin. “That,”
he said, reaching over to reclaim the cigarette, “has got to be
the sappiest thing you've ever said to me.” Snorting a laugh,
he took another drag, releasing the smoke back into the room with a
low moan as Kimishima intensified his ministrations.

“Maybe...”
the other man agreed, smirking a little as Kazuma shifted slightly,
allowing the wandering hands better access, “But that doesn't
make it any less true...”

“Yeah...?”

“Yeah.”

Again,
the cigarette was removed from his fingers and triumphantly snubbed
out in the ashtray resting on the nightstand. A firm, yet gentle
hand coaxed him back fully onto the bed, and as he fell back against
the pillows he was immediately rewarded with the familiar weight of
his lover's body pressing down onto his own, blanketing him with
warmth and desire...

Gasping,
Kazuma started violently, the sudden movement causing some of the
water to slop over the rim of the bottle and onto his lap. The
memory—dream—vision...whatever it had been...had been so
vivid, so real... Real enough that his pulse still raced, and
his body still pulsed with warmth. Real enough that he almost
expected to find Kimishima reclining against the rock next to him,
grinning around the stub end of a cigarette clamped between his
teeth...and real enough for his heart to break all over again at the
realization that it wasn't real at all.

A
small, choked sound escaped him as he scrambled back onto his feet,
stumbling back onto the northward path.

“Kazuma?”
Ryuhou called from behind him, the sound of
the other man's voice followed shortly by the rustle of stiff fabric
as he, too, stood up. “Where are you--?”

“I've
rested enough...let's get moving.”

*
* * * * * * * * *

For
the rest of the day, they continued in much the same way; crossing
the open desert as long as Kazuma could continue to place one foot in
front of the other, stopping for a brief rest when the younger man
began to tire. Of necessity, their progress was slow, and Ryuhou
repeatedly cursed himself for Altering his jeep at the beginning of
his last real battle with Kazuma all those years ago. If he still
had the vehicle, they could have arrived at the village by noon—and
reached the City by dusk. It...had been a foolish thing to do.

But...I
never really expected to survive that battle... I never expected
either of us to survive...

Ahead
of him, Kazuma stumbled, falling onto his hands and knees. Ryuhou
stopped behind him, waiting patiently for him to climb back onto his
feet. The other man didn't move, however, bur remained where he had
fallen, head down, dark, sweat-dampened hair plastered to his
forehead, his arms visibly shaking as he tried to push himself back
up...but couldn't. Unable to bear the sight of his long-time
adversary humbled to such an extent, he crouched down beside the
other, gently gripping Kazuma's arm as he helped the other man up.

Ryuhou
expected Kazuma to pull away once he had regained his footing.
Instead, the ailing Native simply looked at him, a vaguely puzzled
expression on his face as if he didn't know who Ryuhou was, or why he
had helped him...or even why they were out in the desert at all.

“We...should
probably stop for the night,” Ryuhou said after a moment, “The
sun will be setting soon.” When his companion only gazed
blankly at him, Ryuhou guided Kazuma over to the side of the rock
facing that lined the narrow valley they were currently passing
through. Easing the other man to the ground, he draped his cloak
over the thin shoulders before setting about making camp for them.

After
the meager meal Ryuhou prepared for them, the former HOLY officer sat
across from Kazuma, watching the other man. For the most part, his
prisoner had been silent, staring dully into the small campfire that
Ryuhou had built and was now feeding with the few bits of kindling
that he'd managed to scrounge. Suddenly aware of eyes upon him, he
glanced up, meeting his captive's one-eyed gaze.

“Ryuhou...?”
Kazuma's expression was a study in bewilderment as he stared across
the fire at the other man.

“Yes?
What is it?”

There
was a lengthy moment of silence, and just as Ryuhou glanced up again
to see if his companion had fallen asleep or passed out again, the
other man spoke.

“What
are you doing here? Did the mainland attack again?”

Ryuhou
blinked; was it really possible that Kazuma didn't remember why they
were out here? Narrowing his eyes, he peered through the darkness at
his captive, half-expecting to see the traces of that irritating grin
the other man habitually wore...or had worn the last time he
had seen him. There was nothing, however; Kazuma seemed quite
sincere in his question.

“No...nothing
like that,” Ryuhou began, hesitating a bit as he debated
telling his companion the rest. “You destroyed a
village...I'm...taking you back there, and then on to the City.”

Now
it was Kazuma's turn to blink, and his former rival looked as
surprised as if this was the first time he'd heard this. “I...did?”
he asked, “You're sure?”

Ryuhou
nodded, “As sure as I can be without having witnessed it
myself—the Alter the surviving villagers described...could only
be you, but that's why I'm taking you back there first—to
verify that you are the one responsible.

“Oh...”
Taking off his jacket, Kazuma bundled it up before stuffing it up to
serve for a pillow as he curled up in front of the campfire, tugging
Ryuhou's cloak up over him. Again, he lapsed into silence, and
Ryuhou thought he must have gone to sleep again when Kazuma surprised
him by speaking again. “And what happens after that?”
Oddly, the other man didn't sound as if he really cared what Ryuhou's
answer might be. His voice held no traces of anger, only that
unnerving resignation he'd displayed of late...and, perhaps, a vague,
indifferent curiosity.

“I'm...going
to take you to a hospital there,” Ryuhou replied. “I
won't let you hurt anyone else...and they might even be able to help
you...”

Kazuma
snorted, clearly finding the idea amusing. “No they won't,”
he said, shaking his head slightly. “There's nothing anybody
can do to stop...this... and I don't want to spend what little time I
got left in a fucking cage...I'd rather you just kill me now.”

Frowning
slightly, Ryuhou glanced over at the other man. “What are you
talking about?”

Kazuma
made another soft, snorting sound, but apparently had nothing else to
say on the matter. Rolling over, he turned his back to the fire, and
a few minutes later, the sound of soft snoring reached Ryuhou's ears,
indicating that the other man had gone back to sleep.

*
* * * * * * * * *

The
next day was simply more of the same. More walking...more short rest
breaks to allow Kazuma to regain a little of his failing
strength...more silence from his captive. As they slowly made their
way across the seemingly infinite wasteland, Ryuhou became
increasingly alarmed at the other man's behavior. For the most part,
Kazuma maintained the same indifferent silence that he had displayed
ever since they had left the cavern. Occasionally, however, he would
further mystify Ryuhou by his sudden lapses of memory, again
questioning the older man as to why he was here, or where they were
going. Once or twice, Kazuma didn't even appear to remember who
Ryuhou was, and the almost childlike trust and acceptance of his
company unnerved him most of all the other man's uncharacteristic
behavior.

In
all, the trip back to the ruined village took four days, instead of
the three that it had taken Ryuhou to travel from the village to the
cavern where he had finally tracked Kazuma. This was mostly due to
the frequent stops they made to allow Kazuma a chance to rest and
regain his strength...and the farther they traveled,
the longer and more frequent those stops became. More and more,
Ryuhou began to fear that the younger man might not make it to the
village—much less to the City...and as much as he hated to
admit it, the thought disturbed him. What could possibly be the
cause of such a drastic physical and mental decline?

For
the rest of the day, Ryuhou continued to turn the question over and
over in his mind as they slowly crossed the desert. Kazuma, of
course, offered no explanations, but doggedly persisted in moving
under his own power as much as possible. Occasionally, he stumbled
and would have fallen flat on his face had Ryuhou not reached out a
hand to help steady him. Even Kazuma's former determination to never
accept help from him had seemingly vanished, and he no longer pulled
abruptly away from Ryuhou's steadying hand. Of course...he never
offered even a word in the say of a thank you, either... That much,
at least, hadn't changed.

Finally,
four days after they had set out, the pair were at last drawing near
to their destination. About a mile from the ruined village, Ryuhou
called a brief halt. Sweeping his right arm out to one side, he
summoned Zetsuei before turning back to face Kazuma, who stood in his
habitual slouch, watching indifferently.

“I'm...going
to have to restrain you now...”

Kazuma
shrugged. “Why? I'm not gonna try to get away.” There
was no hint of protest or challenge in the younger man's demeanor,
just that same, distant curiosity.

“I
know,” Ryuhou replied quickly, “It's...more for the
villagers' benefit... They...might be frightened if I bring you in
unbound... And they've suffered enough, Kazuma...”

Kazuma
gazed dully down at the ground as he considered Ryuhou's words.
After lengthy silence, he snapped his head up; his one working eye
glowing like molten gold as he stabbed a glare at Ryuhou. “One
condition,” he growled, “Once they identify me, you take
me out right then. No fucking around, Ryuhou. No going to the
City...no hospital...no goddamned cage. Just...take me out.”

Ryuhou's
eyes widened, stunned by the other man's request. “Kazuma...”
Gasping, he shook his head. “I...I couldn't... When you... You
weren't...responsible--”

“Promise
me, dammit!” Stumbling forward, Kazuma reached out, grabbing
the front of Ryuhou's coat, his face only inches from his captors as
he nearly fell against the former HOLY officer. “You promise
me, or I swear I'll Alter and make you do it right now!”

Wide-eyed,
Ryuhou stared at the other man, who glared back fiercely. He...knew
that expression... At long last, the real Kazuma stood before
him—weakened and ill though he might be, this was the man he
knew—not that stranger from the cave. This was Kazuma...and
his rival meant exactly what he said.

Closing
his eyes, Ryuhou bowed his head, his voice barely above a whisper as
he replied, “I...promise, Kazuma...” Even as he spoke
the words, he felt a cold weight settle in his chest, his heart
feeling as if it had been suddenly enshrouded in ice.

Not
like this, you bastard...It's...not fair...
I never wanted it to turn out...like this...

A
rough, leather-sheathed hand caught Ryuhou's chin in a surprisingly
gentle grip, forcing him to look up. Before him, Kazuma stood, a
fain, almost gentle smile upon his lips and an expression of what
looked like relief reflecting from the depths of his one working eye.
“Thanks...” he said simply, “You'll...be doing me
a favor, really...”

A
sudden grin slanted across the younger man's face, and despite the
ravages that his condition had wrought upon him, he once again
resembled his former self as he reached up to pat Ryuhou playfully on
the cheek before stepping back, that infuriating grin still firmly in
place. “C'mon, Ryuhou...let's do this shit.”

*
* * * * * * * * *

A
short time later, Ryuhou led his captive—now firmly, but not
too tightly bound—into the village. The ruined buildings were
no longer smoldering by this time, which
only made the area look even more desolate and bereft of life than
before. As they slowly picked their way through the debris, Ryuhou
kept a steadying hand on Kazuma's shoulder; bound as he currently
was, the younger man would have no chance of catching himself should
he stumble. Although none of the villagers were in sight,
occasionally Ryuhou would catch a brief flash of movement out of the
corner of his eye, there and gone again before he could even turn his
head. Apparently, they had posted sentries—some of the
children, most likely—not too
surprising, since in this weakened state, they would be vulnerable to
any band of rogues who happened by. Not that there was much left to
tempt thieves, at the moment.

Guiding
his captive to the center of the village, they eventually reached a
large structure that looked as if it had once been the town's central
warehouse. Now, it seemed to serve as the main living quarters for
the handful of inhabitants who were left. As he had surmised, the
three adult survivors he had met on his previous visit stood waiting
for him outside, apparently alerted by one or the other of the
children peeking out at Kazuma and himself from behind the two
women's skirts.

“Who's
your friend, HOLY man?” the elderly Inner inquired, nodding his
grizzled head in Kazuma's direction.

“From
your description, I believe this man to be the Native Alter who
destroyed your village,” Ryuhou replied quietly, each word
feeling like ground glass upon his tongue, leaving him almost
surprised when the coppery taste of blood didn't fill his
mouth. Why...? Why is this so difficult?
“Can you verify this?”

The
Inner moved slowly towards Kazuma, presumably to get a better look at
the captive. To Ryuhou's surprise, the man's wizened features held
no anger, no thirst for revenge, only...doubt.

From
behind the man, the more outspoken of the two women snorted
derisively. “No, that ain't him—your mission's not over
yet, HOLY...”

The
old man, however, wasn't so hasty. Hobbling over to the captive
Native, he peered up at Kazuma, who gazed back impassively. After a
long moment, the old man stepped back, sighing softly as he shook his
head. “Fujiko's right...this isn't the one...”

By
this time, the rest of the survivors had appeared, standing silently
off to one side. Dumbfounded, Ryuhou's gaze swept over the small
group, many of whom were now also shaking their heads in silent
denial.

Stalking
forward, the woman—Fujiko—likewise
moved closer to Kazuma, her already sharp features twisting into a
contemptuous sneer. “Not much to look at, is he?” she
asked, “Looks like a strong wind'd knock him over... Nothing
like the bastard who came through here.” Turning away from
Kazuma, she again faced Ryuhou. “The crazy who came through
here was taller...not so scrawny and twisted as this one,” she
continued, jerking her head in Kazuma's direction. “Wasn't as
scarred up as this one, either...and he had brown hair—not
red.”

Glancing
over at his captive, Ryuhou's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Kazuma
looked neither surprised nor relieved that the villagers had just
cleared him. What the hell was going on here? As the other man
turned slightly, catching Ryuhou's gaze, Kazuma merely shrugged
before looking away again, offering him no answers...infuriating as
always.
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Lost Ground, Lost Souls