Shion awoke to a nearly empty chamber. He stared, frowning, at the neatly folded blanket beside him. Had Teru really left for the festival without him? He'd thought the man would find it far more pleasing to stay and enjoy the solitude-

The sound of Toshiwara's soft snoring echoed from along the furthest wall, like a pebble bouncing down a well. The silence seemed wrong. A little eerie.

He didn't like being alone. It reminded him of the time he'd spent half-starved in the mountains, fleeing from the approach of every human footstep. He found it strange how things had altered.

How he had altered.

Sighing, Shion straightened his clothing and combed out his hair with his fingers. It left him feeling no more presentable than before. Perhaps, since everyone had already likely deserted the roads, he could wash himself in the stream without attracting anyone's notice. He still feared his old master might find him-

The men who were so unfortunate as to be left standing guard said nothing to Shion as he hurried past them. It was Ohigan, and he was late to the festivities. Surely his rush would not seem suspicious.

He tried to still his frantic heart. If Lord Teru had chosen to go there with someone else besides him-

The reason the chamber had been emptied out for the festival had nothing to do with religious ceremonies. He knew exactly what the men were seeking out in the village, perhaps even Teru- Teru, who was like a river in the depths of winter, iced over only on its surface, with powerful currents still flowing beneath it. Lately Shion had sensed this ice beginning to thaw. The mere fact the man hadn't awoken him already-

Sleep now. I will not disturb you.

He stopped mid-step, laughing at his own foolishness. Lord Teru had merely made a promise and kept it, hadn't he? far, far past the point where most men would have given it up. What a strange person he'd found himself rushing after-

The thought made him smile.

Once the stream appeared before him, Shion carefully laid out his clothes and washed, first himself, then the bits of dirt and drips of food that had fallen onto his garments. He may not have been well-dressed, but he was at least fresh and clean. The autumn air was invigorating. He'd nearly forgotten how much he loved the sweet scent of the surrounding cedars.

The fallen leaves crunched beneath his bare feet until the shrine, with all its adjacent crowds of people, came into view, but he suddenly found his attention transfixed by something else entirely, a swirl of intense and beautiful crimson.

Corpse-flower. Orphan-flower. White flower of heaven, red flower of hell.

Manjushage.

Shion's breath caught in his throat. Inexorable fate pulled at his footsteps, leading him to the vivid field planted behind the shrine. In the midst of the swaying blossoms, many paces away, a lone figure stood. It tilted its head, as though sensing someone else's presence, and Shion watched as the gleaming fabric at its shoulder stretched and twisted. The man was turning towards him-

Lord Teru's keen eyes flickered beautifully in the changing light. His expression contained the barest hint of a smile as the autumn wind stirred at his hair and rippled through his loose garments. He looked altogether different from before. Shion had become accustomed to seeing his face half-hidden in shadow, his form confined within the bounds of a dingy, crowded room. It was as though the man had become a force of nature, now absolutely freed.

Neither one of them spoke. Words were unnecessary in that moment. The man's piercing eyes told Shion he would not restrain himself any longer. His slow, deliberate footsteps suggested that, should his would-be lover find himself unable to bear the force moving between them, he could leave and not be followed. Shion held Teru's gaze with his own. He wasn't going anywhere.

Step after questioning step fell among the blossoms, and Shion answered, again and again, standing there, waiting patiently, as he met those captivating eyes. The longer he lingered, the more Teru smiled, until, at last-

"You have allowed yourself to be drawn out again, alone."

Behind the shrine, out of sight. He felt the same strange sweet thrill course through him.

"Yes," Shion murmured softly.  "It seems that I have."

"What warning did I give you?"

His eyes chased the outline of Lord Teru's silhouette, as they had done once before, and, just as before, the man's fingers bridged the distance between them, reaching to brush lightly against his face.  "You said that a man with three sharp blades would not hesitate to use them."

"You were frightened of me then.  Are you not frightened of me now?"

"No, my lord," Shion answered quietly.

Teru's other hand moved towards his hip. The movement was beautiful, the twisting wrist, the pulse beating beneath the surface of Teru's skin as he drew the shortest blade from its sheath.  The hand pressing at his cheek still did not waver, and Shion sank against its steady warmth.

"And now?," the man breathed softly.

He began to shake his head, only the blade slipped underneath his chin, halting the movement.  It shimmered in the sunlight, breathtakingly beautiful as it lay against his skin like a loving caress, unspeakably intimate. Honesty, like the cold edge of a blade-

Shion leaned his head back, not glancing away for a moment from Lord Teru’s eyes.

He submitted, acknowledged, accepted. He wanted to know this man’s truth for what it truly was.

The sharp metal didn't waver as, sighing, Teru bent to kiss Shion’s neck. Compared to that hard edge, those lips seemed incredibly soft. Part of him was caught beneath a relentless chill, the other an intermittent heat. Their intensity built on each other until each sensation became something new and altogether strange.

"My exquisite flower," Lord Teru whispered, "blossoming at last, perfectly in season."

Ohigan, the time when the boundary between life and death was so thin it barely existed, thin as the edge of the dagger pressed against his throat, thin as the air which separated that body from his, as the taut skin which only barely contained his longing pulse.

The fingers holding at Shion's cheek drifted away as Teru released the pressure at his throat.

"Be absolutely still."

Obediently, he held his breath.  The blade in Teru's hand cut with deft precision through the dense layers of his clothing before pausing to lift away the fabric at his shoulder. Whatever poor shreds left remaining to him fell to the ground at Shion's feet.

He stood there, shivering and naked, until Lord Teru pulled him into his arms.

It was all as it had been before, everything brighter and clearer, closer, more intense, only this time, the man's elusive heart thudded against him with tumultuous excitement.

Lord Teru knelt and lowered his body slowly onto the ground. The shrine-flowers brushed at Shion’s bare skin. He heard a drumbeat, and the muted sound of chanting, signaling that the ceremony had begun. No one would interrupt them here, and soon the noise of the crowd would drown out all his cries-

Nothing about this meeting had been accidental. Teru had been leading him here all along, skillfully and patiently arranging his carefully orchestrated surrender, composing Shion's fate as though it was but another one of his verses.

Perhaps, he thought, gazing up at the man as he pulled one of the torn pieces of fabric tightly around Shion's wrists, he ought to feel some resentment. Instead, his unruly heart only fluttered with admiration. The touch of the man’s calloused hands was gentle, his movements precise. They moved from Shion's wrists to his chest, lifting him slightly and placing another strip of cloth around his body. He didn't understand why Lord Teru had done so until the man's hands fell between his legs and he jolted up at the unexpected pressure. The edges of the cloth rubbed beneath his nipples, shifting along with his body, assaulting him with pleasure.

Shion closed his eyes.

Another strip of fabric was being painstakingly wrapped around his genitals. The pressure shifted, becoming a consistent, unignorable throb. Lord Teru's fingers trailed lightly against his constrained erection. Up until that point, he had somehow managed not to blush, but this-

"I truly want to see you as red as these blossoms, Shion." Teru's voice was like a sigh. The tall flowers, brilliant and crimson, waved beside the man's face as he stared down intently at Shion's exposed body.

"That may- take some effort, my lord."

Teru smiled down at him without bothering to displace his errant gaze at all. "You are well worth it."

Shion felt his face grow hotter. The man paused for a moment, then soft lips kissed at his throat, which he found being wrapped in a strip of cloth as well. Conscientious fingers slid beneath it, testing its resistance.

"My lord-"

Teru's fingers pulled both it and Shion's head towards him. His hand tightened around Shion's erection, prompting a soft little moan.

"Your voice is so sweet. I would have you chant for me, and offer up your prayers."

This did nothing to assuage the red heat turning his face to crimson.

Teru's grasp loosened. Shion's head fell back softly against the blossoms which had lain crushed beneath him, spilling out their redness like blood. He felt the warmth of Teru's body leaning over him, the man's soft breath at his neck as Teru kissed it again and again. Grasping fingers slid along the length of his arms as the man began to kiss at his shoulders. Shion squinted up at the blindingly blue sky.

One hand slipped underneath his back, pulling his body closer, and a musky scent drifted over him, the scent of sweat and desire. The sun shone hot above them- his skin was already faintly damp with their mixed perspiration.

Soon there would be cheers, and offerings, and enough drinking to leave the village quiet and regretful in the morning.

Lord Teru raised himself up wordlessly, wrapping a bit of torn cloth over one of his hands. Shion watched as he twisted at one of the long stalks until it came easily free. It swayed gently, hovering over Shion's chest for interminable moments.

An odd thrill chased over his skin. Teru would no longer content himself with a few scattered flushes of color. These flowers were mildly poisonous. He knew it as well as his lord did.

Shion found himself holding his breath. It was entirely possible their touch would have no effect at all, but his skin was already burning with the mere anticipation it might-

Smooth petals brushed over his chest, lingering against his anticipatory flesh. It was such a slight, gentle pressure, and yet his overwrought nerves still trembled beneath it. A soft tingling sensation arose along the slow trail Lord Teru’s blossom traced out against him. The throbbing it left behind on his skin was nearly indistinguishable from the one he already felt. It was the same subtle unsatisfiable itch, only building in intensity-

“Shion,” Teru whispered, his voice hushed and broken.

He wanted to be turned completely crimson.

The blossom trailed slowly down his sides, his stomach, drifted along either side of his hips. Every piece of his aching flesh burned beneath it. His face and neck, although Teru had assiduously avoided touching them with his poison, flushed with a nearly unendurable heat which only grew greater as the soft petals fell, twisting, over his open thighs.

The almost imperceptible pressure was becoming progressively heavier. Teru's blossom crushed itself against Shion's skin as the man leaned in closer, lingering over his body. Perhaps Lord Teru was growing tired of this, or else-

Harsh fingers lifted at his knee. The touch of actual flesh was so sudden as to be almost shocking. Shion had almost forgotten what lay on the other side of this delicious torment. Now that he was forced to remember, he gazed up at Teru’s face.

The man reached past the strip of cloth bound over Shion’s ribs, caressing either side of his swollen flesh, leaving him moaning beneath Teru’s light touch. Another hand fell purposefully between them-

“I am not yet as red as a manjushage blossom, my lord.”

“No,” Teru whispered, “you are not, but I dare not bring you any closer.”