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maayacolabackupThe sun finally sets, and Jin is thankful they’ll be riding in the dark, so no one can see his face.
Jin climbs up onto the stallion, the same one he rode when they went into the forest for the first time, when Jin still hadn’t realized how dangerous this all was, how frightening it would be. Before Jin had realized how much it would change him. “Hey boy,” Jin whispers, leaning forward and pressing his chilled nose into the horses main. “How ya been?” The stallion, whose own nose is covered in fluffy white snowflakes, whinnies, and Jin laughs. “Yeah, I’m cold too,” Jin says. “I’ve had a hard few days.”
Jin looks across the group. Yamapi can ride his own horse now. He still looks a bit stiff, and his hands hold the reins a little too tight, but he’s doing it. Jin is relieved that Yamapi isn’t right behind him right now, as much as he craves his touch. Jin is relieved because Jin’s emotions are going haywire, heart thumping like a taiko drum in his chest. Everything feels so strange, Jin thinks, and the tingle of his magic is like the ocean, swamping him. Jin holds it in, now. He holds it in as hard as he can, the waves of it crashing against the confines of his skin.
When he looks at Yamapi, suddenly it’s with new eyes. Yamapi has always, always been important to Jin, like a soft night light in the dark, keeping the monsters at bay. Jin can think of countless times that he has felt alone, or afraid, and Yamapi has been the one person he wants to see, above all others. But this isn’t that.
This is something different.
This is something Jin knows he isn’t supposed to think, not about a friend. Not about Yamapi. Yamapi is the earth for him, and he isn’t supposed to also be the sky.
It reminds Jin of being twenty and reckless, of kissing girls in clubs and thinking it couldn’t get any better than that. It’s like that, only ten times more intense, ten times more overwhelming, and maybe ten times more unbearable too, because he knows it’s not what he’s supposed to feel. It’s not what he’s supposed to want.
Yamapi is nudging his horse lightly forward, bending his knees just like Jin had shown him that first afternoon in the field, teasingly pushing on Yamapi’s knee and telling him he wasn’t going to fall off the horse. Yamapi’s still too conscious of everything, being a perfectionist, Jin thinks, but it makes his stomach flutter, because Yamapi wouldn’t be Yamapi if he wasn’t.
Yamapi looks up at Jin, and smiles, so brightly that for a second, Jin forgets it’s night, because Yamapi’s grin is as bright as the sun. It makes Jin’s heart stutter to a halt in his chest, just for a moment. Jin wants to smile back, but he can’t make his face move, can’t make himself do anything. Yamapi tilts his head at Jin inquisitively, but Jin just shakes his head in response. It’s nothing he wants to say, but he can’t. Yamapi’s brow furrows, but he lets it go, leading his horse up to trot beside Kamenashi’s, the two of them falling into easy conversation, probably about poetry or something like that.
Jin feels…well, miserable. The sky has finally gone dark, and Jin slumps forward, wanting to lay himself across the horse’s neck.
Jin knows he’s failed when it starts to snow. Nakamaru rides up beside him, and Jin wonders if he looks like he needs his own personal Yenta, even in the dark of night. The snowflakes are cold on Jin’s cheeks, where the blanket he still has wrapped about him doesn’t cover. It makes him shiver. His fingers, on the left hand, curl into the blanket, dragging it tight about his neck.
“This could be just regular snow,” Nakamaru says, pitched low so only Jin can hear him. “But it feels too melancholy for that, somehow.”
“I’m just being stupid,” Jin says, his voice weak and wretched. He knows he sounds like a child, but he can’t help it. He wants to hide his face away, so no one can see it. Jin always wants to do that, but it’s worse now than usual. “I’ll get over it.”
“I’m still trying to figure out why you’re so afraid of feeling things. And of people knowing you feel things,” Nakamaru replies. “Your emotions are literally magic. Don’t you think that’s saying something?”
“It’s just that some things are too complicated to feel,” Jin says, and as he says it, he looks over at Yamapi, who he can barely make out in the dark. Yamapi is looking back. Jin can see his eyes perfectly somehow, even in shadow, and in Yamapi’s eyes there’s something Jin doesn’t understand. Maybe something he’s afraid to understand. “Sometimes, things are perfect the way they are.”
“I think you make your own life hard,” Nakamaru says, and Jin chuckles, dryly. It stings in his throat.
“I get told that a lot,” Jin says. “You’d be surprised.”
“I probably wouldn’t,” Nakamaru responds, and Jin can feel a smile pulling at his lips. Just a tiny one, but it’s a start. The snow slows, and the snowflakes feel more like a caress than like sadness, even if it’s still too cold. “Now that’s better.”
“Sorry,” Jin says, and Nakamaru frowns.
“I think you need to be honest with yourself,” Nakamaru continues. “Because I think if you are, you’ll realize this isn’t any different than it was before.”
“It’s totally different,” Jin says, because it is. Being around Yamapi has never been something that makes Jin nervous, that makes Jin want things he can’t have. Being around Yamapi has never been about denial, has never been about pulling back. Being around Yamapi is like coming home at the end of a long day, taking your shoes off, and sprawling decadently across the sofa with a beer. Being with Yamapi is easy.
Now Jin feels like he wants to explode just looking at him, and it’s confusing, and if Jin had thought hanging off that ledge had been scary, nothing had prepared him for this.
At least then Jin had been able to hold on to something. Right now Jin just feels like he’s already falling.
They ride through the night. Jin lingers near the rear of the traveling party. He tries to ignore the way Yamapi keeps looking back at him; the way Yamapi keeps hesitatingly twisting in his saddle seat to keep Jin in sight.
Jin is just thankful that Yamapi isn't comfortable enough on a horse to guide his mount back to Jin's.
When they stop to stretch, Yamapi purposefully walks over to Jin, offering him a bit of cold steamed bun. Jin takes it with almost frozen hands, and the dough is sweet in his mouth, contrasting with the spicy meat.
"What's wrong?" Yamapi says, as Jin chews in silence.
Everything, Jin wants to say, and that's not even melodramatic this time. Jin wants to go home. He's cold, and his muscles are stiff, his hips aching the way they do when he sleeps on them funny. He spent two, or maybe three days in an underground hideout as a prisoner, with no idea if anyone was alive or dead, or if there was anything left to escape to. The Book is pulling at Jin's insides, although the further they ride the weaker it gets, like Jin is stretching their bond to its limits. And whatever this is, this feeling like Jin wants to get closer to Yamapi but also like he wants to run away from him... It's confusing Jin, and making him so scared. Jin simultaneously wants to bury himself in Yamapi's embrace and put as much space between them as he can manage.
Jin's worn out. Mentally and physically. Maybe everything will feel better after he sleeps.
"Nothing," Jin says, and Yamapi just looks at him, slowly, as if he's waiting for the rest of it, and Jin avoids his gaze. Jin's fingers feel too stiff for it, but he pushes his hand through his hair, grimacing at the mud and tangles. It'll take forever to get the knots out, Jin thinks.
"Nothing?" Yamapi asks, and his voice is tremulous. "Are you--" Yamapi stops himself, but Jin can hear the tension in his voice.
"The Book," Jin mumbles. "It's not too happy with me right now."
"Oh," Yamapi says, as Jin turns his attention to his horse, holding a leather skein of water under it's nose to drink. Jin's aware of every slight movement of Yamapi's frame behind him. Yamapi isn't the type to fidget, not like Jin, but he's not as still as he usually is. "Is that...all?"
"Yeah," Jin says. "Yeah, that's all."
"Then why won't you look at me?" Yamapi says, and the way he says it, it’s quiet, but for some reason it is almost like a shout, and it hits Jin like a slap.
"Don't be ridiculous," Jin says, and Jin is thankful that all they have is the dimmest light of the new dawn. It makes it easier to look at Yamapi. Jin's eyes find purchase on the tense line of Yamapi's flexed jaw. "I'm looking at you right now."
"No you're not," Yamapi says despairingly, and it's his tone that makes Jin's eyes flicker up to Yamapi's. Yamapi is looking at Jin with... well, Jin's not sure, but there's that line, the line Jin had felt them crossing when Yamapi pulled Jin up off that ledge. Maybe Jin had been toeing that line long before that, anyway, because even when Jin had thought he was going to die, when there are so many people Jin dearly loves, Yamapi had been the person he'd wanted to see most.
"Yes, I am," Jin says, and his voice cracks on the last word, and Yamapi's eyes search Jin's face. Jin wonders if Yamapi can see the panic in his eyes, or if maybe the birds all flying from the trees all at once gives him away instead. Either way, Yamapi breaks eye-contact, and Jin remembers that there are other people with them.
The others are conspicuously looking away, and it makes a large pink flower bloom right out of the water skein Jin's forgotten he's holding. Jin's stallion looks at him with dismay, and Jin pulls the flower out of the bag sheepishly.
"Shall we go?" Tanaka asks. "We're less than a day's ride from home now." He looks excited at the prospect. It makes Jin think of the little girl with Tanaka's raucous laugh, and Jin thinks he'd be excited too.
"Yes," Ueda says. "Let's go."
#
Parts of the compound are completely burned, razed to the ground, black charred wood all that remains of the flawless architecture and the richly detailed paint-work. It saddens Jin, because Jin had become enamored with the beauty of the Eastern Compound, a soothing element of a chaotic situation.
Now, with half of it torn asunder, Jin doesn’t have any sanctuaries left.
Jin and Yamapi’s guesthouse is untouched by the fire, and that’s a blessing, Jin supposes. Jin surveys the room with weary eyes. Yamapi is beside him, and he watches Jin curiously as Jin sits on his futon, his eyes restlessly wandering about the room, taking in as much as he can in the day’s fading light. Jin can feel Yamapi's gaze on him, but he pretends he doesn't, even though he feels naked before Yamapi's eyes, because Yamapi can see right through him.
They're both quiet. Jin lies down, and it feels like the first night they ever spent in this room, five months ago, more or less. Sleep evades Jin, and all he can do is stare aimlessly at the ceiling, doing anything he can to think about something that isn't Yamapi.
This room is much colder in the depths of winter, Jin thinks, and it would be so much easier to creep into bed with Yamapi, and let Yamapi's back press against Jin's chest, hot like the Book, which is constantly calling out to Jin. But it's a twinge; the pull of the Book is so weak now that Jin can barely feel it, more like an old bruise than a new one.
Instead of giving in, Jin pulls the covers up tightly beneath his chin. He can feel it tickling the beginnings of a beard, and Jin really needs to shave, but the last time he had tried had resulted in chuckles and Yamapi's gentle teasing about the cuts along Jin's face. "You're like a teenager," Yamapi had said, tracing the cuts with his index finger. Yamapi, who even in modern, real life Japan uses a real razor blade to groom his face, had done it perfectly, and Jin had glowered at him until Yamapi had laughingly taught Jin how to shave with a blade, how to sweep the blade along his cheekbones in patterned directions, and how to guide the blade easily across his upper lip.
Jin can recall the effortless graze of Yamapi's fingers across his freshly shaven skin in excruciating detail, down to the way his calluses on the third knuckle, where his finger met his palm, had felt so rough against the smoothness. Jin had liked it. Jin can't forget it. They'd been so close, in that moment. Like two halves of a whole, a puzzle with every piece in its proper place.
Now though, Jin feels a distance. The meter between them feels like a kilometer, and Jin knows it's a distance of his own creation.
"I've never been so afraid," Yamapi says, and the statement echoes in the room, slicing through the silence. Jin rolls over onto his side to face Yamapi, whose eyes are closed. "That I'd never see you again."
"Pi," Jin whispers.
"You're my best friend," Yamapi says. "We're like a team, you know? Like Batman and Robin. Or Pinky and the Brain?"
"Who's the Brain?" Jin interjects, and Yamapi snorts.
"Me, obviously," Yamapi says, and Jin laughs. His stomach unknots for the first time in hours as he does.
"I think Ryo would argue that neither of us are the Brain."
"Ryo would also argue that he's an average sized human being. We all know the truth."
"I think we're a little more like Chip and Dale," Jin says, and Yamapi snorts really unattractively, and it suddenly feels okay for Jin to wrap himself up in his blankets and roll like a log over to Yamapi, who grunts loudly as Jin winds up on top of him.
Thrumming through his body like lava, magic trickles out before Jin can stop it, pulsing out around him. Golden flowers bloom between them, and purple ones too, scattering across Yamapi's blankets. Yamapi's face crinkles in a grin as purple flowers wrap around his exposed arms, which he's got bent behind him, palms cradling his head.
"It's harder to see the color in the dark," Yamapi says. "But I think these ones are purple. What do the purple ones mean, again?"
"I'm happy you're here," Jin chokes out through an almost closed throat. "They mean 'I'm happy you're here'."
"Right," Yamapi says.
Yamapi has laugh lines around his eyes, Jin thinks, and Jin wriggles an arm free from blanket imprisonment to draw his fingers along those lines. Yamapi's eyes flutter closed, and Jin drags his fingers across the bridge of Yamapi's nose, and traces the line of his lips. They feel soft and full under the pad of Jin's thumb.
"This is scary too," Jin says, and it's easier to admit in the dark.
"It is, isn't it?" Yamapi says in response, and Jin withdraws his hand from his exploration of Yamapi's face to bury it back in the covers. Yamapi lifts his head and frees his arms, and he wraps them around Jin, pulling him closer. Jin's trapped, rolled like a burrito in his blankets, and Yamapi's arms are warm and strong despite the layers. "'s cold," Yamapi mumbles, and Jin shakes his head.
"Put your arms under the blanket then, idiot," Jin says. "You'll be warmer then."
"Don't want to let go," Yamapi replies.
They fall asleep like that, and the last thing Jin sees before he closes his eyes is the most beautiful purple flower bloom, right in the crook of Yamapi's neck, and it's thanks to the moonlight that he can see the way the petals brush lovingly along the strong line of Yamapi's jaw.
#
Izumi puts small little braids into Jin's hair as Jin studies the mountainous landscape, taking in the snow capped peaks, and how they sparkle like diamonds under the sun. Jin's lost track of time, and he's not sure of what month it is, really, only that they haven't been granted a relief from the snow. Jin's not sure if the seasons are even the same time of year here as they are in Tokyo: after all, New Years is summertime in much of South America.
"Will you leave soon?" Izumi asks him. "Father says you're going to finish the Story soon."
"Yeah," Jin says. "Hopefully we will."
"If you finish the Story, that means you and Pi-chan will go away, right?" Jin turns his head a little, so he can look at Izumi as she ties his hair into knots. "I don't want you to leave."
"Pi and I have to go home, Izumi. We have families, and another life. It's completely different than here too."
"Can I visit you?" Izumi doesn't sound like she thinks it’s possible, Jin thinks. She’s too smart for her own good. But that's alright.
"Maybe someday," Jin says. "I'm not really sure how it works, so I can't make any promises."
"I'll miss you, if you leave," she says, wrapping her thin arms around his neck, and pressing her cheek to Jin's. "And Pi-chan, too."
"We'll miss you too," Jin says. He feels eyes on him, now, and when he looks to his right, Yamapi is leaning against a walkway column, head tilted sideways to rest upon the wood. He's watching Jin.
"I miss the spring," Izumi says. "I wish you could see what the spring looks like here."
Jin smiles, and drags a little magic up and lets it go. He's always got too much magic these days anyway, because whatever is happening between him and Yamapi makes Jin feel wild and raw, edges rubbed rough and emotions exposed.
From the snow, Jin produces a covering of flowers. As he lets his magic turn his feelings into flora, he looks at Yamapi, who's watching him steadily, betraying nothing with his expression.
Jin isn't surprised when all the flowers are purple. "They're all purple, lately, Jin," Izumi says. "They used to be pink, and yellow sometimes, but now they're all purple."
"They are, aren't they?" Jin stares out at the garden, filled with flowers, and thinks it mirrors his heart.
#
The week Jin spends recuperating in the burnt out husk of the Eastern Compound feels unbearably long.
There’s a thin wall between Jin and Yamapi, too, and that makes it harder for Jin. The wall is more like a thin sheet of ice, and Jin can see through it, can see Yamapi distorted by the frozen water, and the touch of his hands melts it a bit, but the weight of things unacknowledged keeps it frozen between them. It’s hard to imagine it like that, sometimes, especially when Yamapi’s shoulder is so warm when Jin leans his head down to rest on it, or when Yamapi’s hand seems to leave tiny burns wherever his fingers brush—burns that linger and pulse even hours later.
Jin wants to know what happens next. But there’s no Book here for him to read, nothing telling him when he’s supposed to go, or what will happen. It’s how Jin’s lived most of his life, but for some reason it’s more difficult now.
Jin wants to turn the page.
#
“The Western Compound is smaller than the Eastern,” Kamenashi says, matter of fact. “No families there.”
“You’ve been there?” Yamapi asks. “You’ve seen inside it?”
“I spent a lot of time there, when I was young,” Kamenashi says distantly. “I know what’s it’s like.”
“That’s half the battle, then, right?” Yamapi’s face seems confused. “Why are we so nervous, then?”
“Every secret of that place that I know, the Lord of the West knows too. And then there’s the magic.”
“The Lord of the West’s magic?”
“He’s been using it a lot longer than you,” Ueda says bluntly. “He can use magic in ways you haven’t begun to discover. He can see every inch of his compound, at any time, if he wants to.”
“If he wants to…” Jin says, trailing off. “He can use his magic to watch?” Jin thinks about his orange line, and how he has to close his eyes to concentrate on it, to follow it. “I bet that takes concentration.”
It comes to Jin, as Kamenashi goes on and on about the impossible odds of outmaneuvering the Lord of the West. It pops into his head as a fully formed idea, like when he wrote some of his songs for the new album, or like when he came up with awesome elaborate prank for Yuu's birthday that almost got him, Yuu, and Ryo arrested. It had taken Johnny a lot of fast talking to keep it out of the news, but I had been worth it.
But this idea isn't nearly as entertaining, Jin thinks. It's more horrifying than funny, actually, because Jin’s not sure that it isn’t the best course of action.
Maybe, Jin thinks, what they need to get past the Lord of the West is a bit of misdirection.
A bit of distraction.
“If only there was a way to keep his eyes off the perimeter. We would only need a few minutes,” Kamenashi says, and Jin leans forward, tugging anxiously on his sleeves so they’ll cover his hands.
He wets his lips and exhales. “Use me,” Jin says, and Taguchi raises an eyebrow, his usually cheerful expression placid.
Find me, the Book demands, and though it doesn’t hurt, it irritates, like a bruise—it’s a slight discomfort, but it’s enough to be a constant reminder.
“Use you?” Ueda asks.
“Yeah, you know… you need to get past his all-seeing eye. So…make it look somewhere else.”
“Hmm…” Ueda replies, and he furrows his brow in thought.
"It doesn't seem like there's any other way," Jin says finally. "I've got to get the Book back, and we can't just waltz in there ask for it."
"What are you saying?" Yamapi asks, even as Kamenashi narrows his eyes at Jin, and Nakamaru blanches.
"Jin," Tanaka says. "That would be very, very dangerous."
"What else is new?" Jin replies.
"Jin, what are you talking about?" Yamapi asks again, more urgently, as Ueda crosses his arms.
"They almost killed you last time," Ueda says, and Taguchi chimes in his agreement.
"Kato left you hanging on a cliff-ledge, fully thinking you were going to fall to your death. Just because he didn't have the guts to watch you die doesn't mean he didn't want you dead. Didn't actively plan your death."
"Well, yes," Jin admits. "But Kato said something very interesting, while I was hanging there."
"And that was...?" Kamenashi drawls, eyes searching Jin's.
"The Lord of the West wanted me alive," Jin says. "That's why I was captured in the first place. Kato, in trying to kill me, was basically 'going rogue'."
"Why would he want you alive?" Ueda asks himself aloud, but Jin takes it as an open question.
"Sentimentality; that was what Kato said." Jin clears his throat as the Five Guardians seem to tense as one. A muscle twitches in Tanaka's neck. "Don't you think the Lord of the West will be just curious enough about how I'm alive to at least buy me a bit of time?"
"It might just work," Taguchi says, and Jin thinks he's forcing himself to relax.
Yamapi presses closer to Jin. "What do you want to do, Bakanishi?"
"Jin wants to get himself captured, essentially."
"No," Yamapi says swiftly and definitively.
"Pi, it's the best way. The Lord of the West...he's the only one of them who can do magic, right? So if his attention is on me, the Five Guardians can slip into the compound, and will only have his followers to deal with. And they're the five greatest warriors in the kingdom." Jin swallows. "Also, I might be able to get the Book back more easily that way. Maybe I can finish the story."
"I said no," Yamapi repeats, and his nostrils flare. "There's no way--"
"It's not really your choice to make," Jin says softly. "Not really."
"I can't let you--" and Jin bristles. He gets it, he really does, that Yamapi's just nervous, just scared, and worried about Jin. But Jin's always been averse to anyone telling him he can't do something. Instinctively, it burns like acid in his stomach even stronger than the discomfort of the Book's nagging pull. He doesn't bother to contain his magic.
"I'm not something you can control," Jin says quietly, his voice even. Yamapi yelps as a tiny fire lights at his feet, and he jumps back a little. Jin allows the fire to die out, and a part of him marvels at how aware of his magic he is now. The rest of him is focused on Yamapi. "I want to go home. This...is the best way. The only way, really, with how carefully the Lord of the West watches over his compound."
"But--"
"I hate it," Jin says. "I don't want to be brave, or clever, or dead. I really don't want to be dead. So it would be awesome if you could just...support me."
Yamapi takes a deep breath. "Just tell me this. What's going to make the Lord of the West even believe that we aren't waiting for him to be distracted?"
"That's going to be my job, too," Jin says. "I'll just sell it to him."
"How?" Yamapi says. "How will you do that?"
"I'll tell him I just want to go home. Tell him, I don't know, that the Five Guardians told me all I needed was to get the Book, and I could go home."
"Let me go with you," Yamapi says. "We could both just want to go home. That's plausible."
"You can't," Jin says. "You definitely can't."
"Why not? Jin, I don't want you to go in there alone. You don't know how I felt, when..."
"Yes," Jin says. "I do." Jin scratches at his neck. "But you're the last person who can go in with me."
"Why?" Yamapi says. "I'm not much more of a threat than you are!"
"On the contrary," Kamenashi says, interrupting their heated conversation, and reminding Jin that there are other people in the room. "You're a very big threat, Yamapi."
Nakamaru has a tight smile on his face. "You see," Nakamaru says. "If you are there, then Jin won't be completely helpless."
"And if this is going to work," Jin says grimly, "I need to be completely helpless."
"Your magic," Yamapi says, and he looks stricken. "Jin..."
"Pi," Jin says. "Can you trust me? I always trust you, so I need you to...Can you trust me?" It’s not the first time Jin’s asked this question. He knows the answer, really, but he wants Yamapi to remember it.
Yamapi seems to take Jin's measure, hands clenched into tight fists that turn white at the knuckles. "Yes," Yamapi says. "Of course I can."
#
The plan is simple, which is probably for the best, considering Jin really can't even recall his own website address, most of the time, let alone his schedule for a day. So complicated invasion plans are not really up Jin's alley.
They'll leave the horses about a kilometer from the compound, and travel the rest of the way on foot, so as to delay the discovery of intruders as long as possible.
Jin will split away from everyone else, then, and travel alone to the compound. It's better, in case there are sentries closer to it, if Jin appears to have walked completely alone. It's not like Jin needs directions after all, not with the way the Book is calling out to him, demanding that Jin come and get it.
The ride through forests and hills seems both unbearably long and far too short at the same time. Jin thinks it’s the silence, and the way there's an air of finality. This is it, after all, the last chapter in their Story. Jin is the Storyteller, and even he doesn't have any idea how it's going to end.
Jin can only hope it ends in peace, and in Jin opening his eyes one morning to the Tokyo skyline out his window and a pack of cigarettes on his bedside-table, with the reassuring buzzing of his iPhone alarm in his ear.
It's almost surreal when Jin slides down from his horse and ties the reins to a low branch.
Jin doesn't know what to say as they all stand in a loose approximation of a circle, the Five Guardians each looking a little lost, and Yamapi looking completely so.
"I'd better go," Jin says, just to break the tableau. Tanaka slaps Jin on the shoulder and smiles.
"See you later," Tanaka says, and Jin nods, nods at all of them, really.
He takes a backward step, and then spins, looking out into the expanse of forest waiting in front of him with some dread.
"Let me walk with him," Yamapi says. "Just a little of the way. I'll come right back, I promise."
"We'll wait right here," Kamenashi replies easily, like he understands...whatever there is to understand, and Jin starts walking, knowing Yamapi will be close behind.
They walk in silence, Yamapi walking almost silently behind him, only the crunch of frozen snow alerting Jin to Yamapi's matching footsteps.
"I guess this is where we say goodbye," Jin says. Soft snowflakes linger on his lashes, and they feel heavy.
"Yeah," Yamapi says. "I guess it is." He doesn't move though, and his shoulders are squared, like he's got something to say.
Jin waits for a moment, and when Yamapi doesn't rush to speak, he turns away. "I'll see you later then," he says.
Jin starts forward, and Yamapi grabs at Jin, fingers gripping Jin's wrist. "It's going to be dangerous," Yamapi says, his lower lip pulled between his teeth. He's looking at Jin in that strange way again, and Jin doesn't know what he's supposed to do. But he’s nervous, too nervous to fight the tingle, and so a strong wind picks up, blowing the snow around them.
Jin's got a lot he'd like to say, maybe, and looking at Yamapi now, hand desperately clutching at Jin's wrist and cheeks flushed slightly red, Jin wonders if he can ever really express it in words. "It is," Jin says. "Yamapi..."
"Yeah?" Yamapi says, and he's not looking at Jin. Instead his gaze is wandering out into the distance, where the tops of the pine trees meet the horizon. They pines are dusted with snow, and it’s gorgeous. The wind gets a little stronger as Jin’s palms start to sweat.
"I just want to..." Jin trails off, and the words stick in his throat. "Thanks," Jin says instead. "I know this is all my fault, because I can't follow rules, and I'm stubborn and reckless and--"
"Jin," Yamapi interrupts, and his lips twitch. “Why is it so windy?”
"And," Jin barrels on, "I couldn't have done any of this, at all, without you. And if I had to pick anyone, in the whole world, to be trapped in a scary alternate world that's kinda like ancient Japan except not cause there's magic and fake people warriors and stuff--"
"Jin," Yamapi says again, and this time he's definitely smiling, and Jin finds that though Yamapi isn't looking at him, Jin himself can't take his eyes off of Yamapi, with his wind-tousled hair and the faint beginnings of a mustache lingering above his upper lip. He's still bronzed though it’s been a long time since the summer sun, and his skin is chapped, and he doesn't look anything like an idol, but he's beautiful, Jin thinks, just like this. The wind blows harder.
"If I had to pick anyone, it would be you, Pi." Jin feels like he's hanging off that ledge all over again, and Yamapi's tentative grip is the only thing that keeps him from falling. "Because you're, you know, you, and that's...it's not just because of your kickass Mario skills, or the fact that you never burn the eggs, or any of that kind of stuff." Jin knows he's babbling, but the words are just bubbling forth like a brook in the thawing spring, and he can't stop them. Snow is blowing into his eyes and mouth as he speaks, and Jin tries to will the emotions to quiet, to stop giving him away, but they won’t. "It's little things, like the way I feel safer when you press into my side, or the way your eyebrows lift when I'm being stupid. It's the way your laugh sounds really dumb when you don't think anyone's listening. It's the way you use ponytail holders to hold up your bangs, and it makes you look like a girl--"
"Jin," Yamapi says. "Shut up."
And then he's tugging Jin against him, until Jin is pressed chest to chest against Yamapi, and he can feel Yamapi's pulse racing, can feel how tight and tense every muscle in Yamapi's body has become. Yamapi smells of coffee, somehow, like always, even though they haven't had any in months, and sweat, and like the forest, too-- like the way that soil smells in a sticky summer heat, fresh and hot and alive. Jin's wrist is trapped between them, and the rough skin of Yamapi's palm makes him tingle in entirely unexpected ways, the feeling spreading through his body until he's shivering with it. Yamapi sighs, letting out a shaky breath. "I'd want it to be you, too," he says, and Jin can feel his own eyelashes move with Yamapi's exhale. The cold snow clings to Jin’s back, but between them there is only warmth.
For a moment, they just stand there, noses brushing, breathing in time as they savor the rare moment of peace. Jin is hyper-aware of every slight movement of Yamapi's frame, all of his senses fixated on his best friend. Jin feels kind of stupid, like a schoolgirl with her first crush, because all of these feelings are crashing around inside him, ripping him apart inside and he's overwhelmed. He's aching with it. It's the same feeling that's been consuming him for the past weeks, eating away at him. Holy shit, Jin thinks, because there’s no way he can turn back from this.
Yamapi, Jin knows, is more than just his best friend. He doesn't know exactly what that means, really. All he knows is that his heart is quivering with it, trembling as much as Jin's hand when he brings it up to brush back Yamapi's bangs, the same way he always does. At the touch of his fingertips against Yamapi's forehead, Yamapi licks his lips, and stares deep into Jin's eyes. And it's not scary, anymore. And maybe it's because Jin is about to do something really, seriously crazy, but this-- finally, Jin thinks it might just be right.
"Fuck it," Yamapi says, and then he's dropping Jin's wrist and sliding both hands into Jin's tangled hair, crushing his mouth to Jin's so fiercely Jin gasps.
The kiss is sloppy. Yamapi presses too hard, and misses Jin's mouth just a little, and their noses bump, but then Jin giggles, out of relief or surprise or maybe that feeling that he hasn’t given a name, and tilts his head to the side, closing the gap between their mouths again, and it's better. It's perfect, Jin thinks, and all he wants to do is forget about getting captured and risking his life to get the Book back, and stay here forever, seeking further contact from Yamapi's lips and Yamapi's eager tongue. Yamapi kisses like he means it, like he's never meant anything more than he means this, right now, and Jin can empathize, because he doesn't think he's ever meant anything more, either.
Yamapi's mouth is even hotter than a Tokyo summer, and Jin doesn't mind at all, because he wants more. He brings his own arms up and hangs them loosely around Yamapi's waist, and that...that doesn't feel so different, not really.
Jin wonders if he's always felt this way about Yamapi. The past while, knowing that things between them have been changing... Well, now Jin realizes, like Nakamaru said, that maybe not all that much has changed after all; maybe it was just their perception of it. It's not like he woke up one day and suddenly, Yamapi made his heart beat faster, made him feel like canaries were flying around in his stomach, made him feel like he was falling and flying at the same time. It's been gradual, a steady realization that Yamapi is something as certain to him as the leaves changing with the fall, or the flowers blooming in the spring. And now, as Yamapi licks at Jin's mouth, teasing at Jin's tongue with his own, as focused and with as much dedication as he devotes to every other aspect of his life, Jin thinks maybe this is just where they've always been headed, and it feels like Jin's in a rushing river, and kissing Yamapi is like falling straight into the cascade of a waterfall. Yamapi is putting everything into Jin: everything he has. Yamapi is, after all, made of hard work.
Yamapi presses Jin against a tree trunk, and Jin can feel the rough bark digging into his back. It doesn't matter, because all he can focus on is the way Yamapi's tongue licks heavy against the inside of his cheeks and his teeth, and the way Jin's own tongue is exploring in return, trying to taste everything, trying to memorize the way Yamapi's mouth feels, because he never wants to forget.
Yamapi's hands slip from Jin's hair, falling to his shoulders as he eases back, their lips parting in the midst of small, tingling kisses that are a mere touch of lips to lips. Yamapi offers one last peck as they separate, lips seeming to linger even as they move away. Yamapi laughs, breathlessly, and Jin opens his eyes.
Around Jin and Yamapi are thousands of butterflies in countless brilliant colors, bright against the backdrop of snow.
“Wow," and Yamapi is looking at the brightly patterned insects in delight. "What do butterflies mean? Is that how you feel about me?” Yamapi asks teasingly, and Jin doesn’t have to answer, not really, because it’s obvious. A butterfly lands on Yamapi’s nose and flutters its wings. “I thought you might kiss me back.”
And Jin's probably just as flushed as Yamapi is right now, kiss-swollen lips and heavy lidded eyes staring at Jin in a way that makes Jin feel like he's turning to ash inside. Yamapi’s eyes cross, to stare at that butterfly, until it flies off, joining the thick cloud around them both.
"Um," Jin says, and he bites his upper lip. Their breath is steam between them. He tries to will himself to drop his arms, and he can't. Instead his hands clutch at the fabric of Yamapi's coat, the heavy layered quilting like an anchor in his hands. Butterflies alight along his arms and shoulders, and in his hair, too.
"So... now isn't really the time for this," Yamapi breathes out. "So let me give you a rain-check."
"A rain-check?" Jin says blankly, and Yamapi laughs, leaning forward to press a soft kiss on Jin's forehead, before dropping his arms and stepping back, forcing Jin to let go of him. The butterflies scatter, flying off in all directions, some of them remaining, flitting to and fro in the corners of Jin’s eyes.
"Yeah," Yamapi says. "A rain check." Yamapi smiles at him, softly. "I've got a lot of things I want to tell you, but first, we've got stuff to do, remember?"
"Right," Jin says, and he lifts his hand to scratch at his nose. "Stuff."
Jin still feels dizzy with it all, and he can't stop staring at Yamapi, who's his best friend; who's more than that, too, and he thinks maybe he'd save the whole fucking world just to kiss him again. The only thing holding him up, he thinks, is the tree at his back, because his knees feel weak, and this is kind of like a movie, maybe, because Jin feels like this kind of shit only happens in movies. Jin doesn’t know why his magic has to act so much like a girl and spout butterflies and love confessions without so much as a by-your-leave from Jin, but for some reason, he doesn’t mind now. Jin really just wants another kiss.
"You ready?" Yamapi asks, and of course Jin isn't ready. Jin's scared, and confused, and he wishes he could just stay out here, in the safety of Yamapi's arms, with kisses, and forget about everything happening around him, and let someone else fix it. But it's only Jin, it seems, who can do it. Jin with only his hammering heart and unpredictable magic. And Jin won't even have the magic, really.
It's been a long time since anyone has depended on Jin like this, and Jin's always tried to avoid the shackles of responsibility, making sure no one is depending on Jin but Jin himself, but. Maybe Jin's grown up or something, because it's not just the Book tugging on him, at all. Jin can feel the tug of Kamenashi's plea, and the raised eyebrow of Ueda, and the playful grins of Tanaka and Nakamaru, too, all of them counting on him. All of them relying on Jin. Yamapi, Jin thinks, is relying on him too. And it's enough, Jin thinks, to make him strong. It's time to end all of this. Jin's ready to get the Book back, ready to go home.
Jin's got other things waiting for him after this is all over, now, too. His eyes flit over to Yamapi, whose face is half-obscured in shadow as night falls quickly around them, and he feels like he's bursting.
When this is over, he thinks, then there will be something else.
"I'm ready," Jin says, and Yamapi nods. Suddenly, it hits Jin all over again just how dangerous this is, how much they have to lose. "Just in case something happens," Jin says, brushing his shoulder against Yamapi's, same as he always does when he wants Yamapi's attention. "I want you to know--"
"Nothing's going to happen," Yamapi says. "I'm trusting in you remember? So you'll have to tell me later." he grabs a fistful of Jin's gi and drags him in, pressing another quick kiss to Jin's mouth, and despite its brevity, it leaves Jin breathless all over again. "So hold that thought, Cinderella."
“I thought we agreed I could be Mulan,” Jin says dazedly, and Yamapi laughs.
And then Yamapi's gone, just like they planned, and Jin is left alone to find his way to the gate, butterflies circling around his head, and in his stomach too, as he tries to catch his breath.
Jin closes his eyes, and there it is, the orange line, like it's never left, springing into Jin's vision as soon as he begins seeking it.
It takes only twenty minutes of Jin stumbling and tripping over tree roots and rocks for Jin to emerge from the forest and into cleared land.
The compound of the Lord of the West looks nothing like the serene and quietly gorgeous Eastern Compound. It's more imposing, Jin thinks, like the person who created it wanted people to feel fear instead of welcome. Jin figures that's probably the point.
The iron doors loom high in front of him, and Jin gulps, because this is probably the most reckless thing he's ever done.
But if there's something Jin has always been good at, it's at charging into things without concern for the consequences. And really, that's all he's supposed to do.
As soon as Jin steps in front of the gate, he’s roughly grabbed, and Jin doesn’t struggle, just winces at the too tight grip on his arms and the way the snow get the legs of his pants wet. “Here we go,” he mutters to himself, and the guards aren’t people, just more constructs. Jin’s not sure why he expected them to be people either. The Lord of the West has always sent constructs.
But the person waiting for Jin at the end of the long trek through yet another maze-like compound isn’t the Lord of the West at all. It’s Kato, with Nishikido at his side. He’s sitting cross-legged on a cushion, Jin’s Book in his lap.
“You’re alive,” Kato says, and Jin, as he’s thrown to the ground, his knees hitting too hard, smiles smugly.
“I am,” Jin says. “Guess you didn’t succeed completely with your plot twist.”
“It was very stupid of you to come here on your own. You must know without Yamapi you have no magic.”
“I know,” Jin says. “But he’s safer like this.” It’s not a lie, and so Jin can say it with a straight face. “I want to speak with the Lord of the West.”
“Why?” Kato asks, standing and dismissing the constructs with a wave of his hand. “You barely survived our last encounter—you’ll have to tell me how you did it, by the way—and now you’ve jumped head first back into the fire pit.”
“I want to deal Yamapi and I out of this mess,” Jin says. “We both just want to go home. Whatever that takes.”
“Whatever it takes?” Kato laughs. “You’re so childish. Don’t you know how much danger your life is in, here? He sees all, inside these gates. Who knows whether he’ll listen to you or not. He can be…stubborn.”
“It’s worth a try,” Jin says. “He wanted me alive, before.”
“Because he wanted to see you,” Kato says. “Now he’ll be able to do that easily.” Jin pushes himself up as Kato speaks. “You don’t have any bargaining chips. You’ll be killed.” Nishikido draws his sword as Jin takes a step toward Kato.
The Book is calling him, and Jin’s stomach is twisting and turning at the Book being so close. It’s calling out to him frantically, and now, Nishikido’s sword doesn’t seem like a big enough deterrent.
“The way I see it,” Jin says, walking up to Kato and snatching the Book from his tightly clutching arms, ignoring Nishikido, who stands with sword drawn and narrowed eyes, “is that the Lord of the West can see everything that happens in this compound. And here I am, alive, despite the fact that you tried to kill me. Against his orders. Which means you not only disobeyed him, but you also lied to him about it.” Jin, with the Book in his arms, takes a step backward. “So in my opinion, your life is in bigger danger than mine right now, because at least I never pretended to be on his side.”
Kato studies Jin with solemn eyes as the Book sings it’s approval at being reunited with Jin. “You keep turning out to be smarter than I think you are,” Kato says, his voice cracking, and Jin, despite the blade and the complete impossibility of everything right now, laughs.
“No, I’m just twice as crazy,” Jin says. “I rush into things and get lucky, over and over again.”
Kato smiles at him, and Jin sees a glimpse of the Shige from his world, who ended up so much different. “Well, why don’t you let me think you’re smart, rather than stupidly reckless, then,” Kato says, and then his eyes dart unexpectedly to the left, and his face goes white. “Nishikido, we must leave.”
“Leave?” Nishikido says, sliding his sword, to Jin’s relief, back into it’s sheath.
“Yes, we haven’t much time,” Kato says, and then he turns to Jin. “For what it’s worth, I do, for some reason, hope you survive this. This was never your fight.”
“But you tried to kill me!”
“That was business,” Kato says.
“Where are you going?” Jin says blankly, and Kato smiles.
“As you said, the Lord of the West sees everything. And he’s none to happy with me right now.” Kato grimaces. “Hopefully you’ll keep him busy long enough for us to get away.”
“How do you know that he’s angry?” Jin asks, eyes scanning the room.
“Magic,” Nishikido snaps, and then they’re gone, leaving Jin alone in the wood paneled room. Jin does think it’s getting hotter in the room, and wonders if that’s anger.
The walls are mostly bare; a few iron-wrought details holding lanterns in place, and one single tapestry, with that same setting sun Jin’s seen on all the magical constructs, are all that decorate the room. The ceilings are lower than the ones in the Eastern Compound, and there’s a strange convex area to the wall, where it looks like a tree has grown into the building. The branches climb up it, and Jin marvels at what kind of magic must have been used to create it.
The Book shudders in Jin’s hands, flying open and falling from Jin’s hand. Jin drops to his knees again, and the pages flip in a rush in front of Jin as he kneels, and Jin leans forward to read the words urgently scrawling themselves across the parchment.
“Suddenly, Jin’s situation became a lot more dangerous.” The letters appear on the page like a warning, the ink looking darker and more frightening than Jin remembers the text ever looking before. It’s almost like Jin’s book is writing against its will.
Like someone is changing the Story.
“You know you’re the only Storyteller in this world, don’t you?” says a voice from behind Jin, and even with his arms stinging from the grip of the constructs and his heart reeling in frightened surprise, Jin would know that voice. “Surely you must have known I existed. Surely you must have wondered how I did magic.”
It’s the voice he’s least likely to ever forget.
Of course, Jin thinks as the bottom drops out of his stomach. Of course. Jin feels stupid, like there’s so much he should have seen coming. But for some reason, he hadn’t expected this.
Only Storytellers can do magic. It’s the simplest thing. Something he’s known all along, but never thought to make the connection.
The Lord of the West is wearing armor a black so dark it’s like staring into nothing, and upon the breast is the crest—a blood-red sun sinking into the horizon.
“You look surprised,” he says, and Jin swallows, deeply, and looks into his own face. “Almost as surprised as Kato was when he first brought me news of you.”
“But…why?” Jin says. “I don’t understand.”
“Hmmm,” he says. “You really didn’t know? Didn’t they think you were a spy?” He smiles, and it’s Jin’s smile, the one he sees in the mirror when he’s checking his hair and it looks awesome, or the one he sees on television shows from himself when something catches him off-guard and makes him laugh. “It’s because you look like me.” He laughs. “It’s because I look like you.”
“This is not as cool as it was in The Parent Trap,” Jin says. “I don’t want to be my own antagonist.”
The Lord of the West laughs, and as he laughs, cracks form all along the floor, wide beneath Jin’s body as he scrambles away from them. “Your laugh makes bunnies. Mine makes chasms.”
“That just means I’m nicer than you,” Jin says, and then he swears as he cuts his arm on a piece of splintered wood.
“Oh, well,” The Lord of the West says. “I’ll just have to live with myself somehow.”
“But…” Jin says, looking around frantically. “Where is your Inspiration?” Jin looks around for another person, but comes up empty. “Is Kato your Inspiration, or something?” Jin wonders if Kato and Nishikido have already escaped, or if they were trapped in here somewhere. Jin wonders if he’s enough of a distraction to help friend and foe alike. “That can’t be right…”
He laughs, and the sound sends a shiver down Jin’s spine. It’s terrifying, to hear his own laugh sound like this, so cold and dark. “No, not at all,” he says, and then gestures, with one hand, to the back wall, where those tree branches have grown up along the wall between the slats. “The thing is, without an Inspiration, you can’t do magic. So I didn’t want to take any chances with it, you know?”
Jin’s eyes widen as the branches begin to peel themselves back at a wave of the Other Jin’s hand, revealing a glass case underneath. There’s a person inside.
Jin knows, in his heart, that it’s not his Yamapi. That his Yamapi has long dark brown hair that’s seen too many perms, and a dark tan from the summer that hasn’t faded even in the overcast winter. His Yamapi is somewhere with Kamenashi and Ueda and Nakamaru and Taguchi and Tanaka, trying to defeat the rest of The Western constructs while Jin distracts and gets the Book so he and Yamapi can finally go home. The man in the glass case, with his milky white skin and long straight hair…it’s not his Yamapi.
But it’s Yamapi all the same. He looks so still, Jin thinks, and Jin wants to save him, wants to hold him close and keep him safe from, well, Jin.
“How can you keep him like that?” Jin asks, his voice catching in his throat. “If he’s your Inspiration, how can you keep him trapped like? How can he Inspire you when he isn’t even free?”
“Speaking of Inspiration, where’s yours?” The Lord of the West asks menacingly. “Because without him, Book or no, you can’t do any magic.” He laughs. “And that means you can’t protect yourself.”
He narrows his eyes, and suddenly all the ground underneath of Jin sets aflame, the fire licking at his hakama as Jin screeches at the top of his lungs and jumps back.
Jin’s heart is racing with fear, and he has absolutely no idea how he’s going to get himself out of this mess.
#
If you would have asked Jin a year ago what the scariest thing he’s ever done was, he would have given you some rather cliché answer about following his dreams or leaving his band.
If you asked Jin today, he’d have a whole host of possible answers that don’t have anything to do with his career at all, (and might include falling for his best friend), and on the top of his list would be dodging vines that sprout up out of the ground, bursting through the paneled floor and setting themselves alight with flames, as a man that looks just like himself cackles and taunts him.
Jin scrambles backwards until his elbows hit the wall, and rolls to the side as another vine that is on fire swerves at him. If this were a movie, Jin would think the special effects were totally awesome, but this isn’t a movie. This is Jin’s life, and at a lick of fire that singes the end of one of his pant legs, Jin wonders if, more specifically, it’s the end of Jin’s life.
“I was really curious to meet you,” the Lord of the West says, and Jin rolls again. “I wanted to see if you were like me.”
“I’m not,” Jin says. “At all. I have never tried to take over a kingdom.” Jin might have a YouTube series called ‘The Takeover’, but that’s all very metaphorical, really. His ‘takeover’ was never meant to affect others so much as it was Jin taking over the direction of his own career. Taking over American pop. He’s still working on that. It’s an uphill battle.
“I didn’t plan on that either, not at first. I just refused to be trapped any longer. Wanted to do something different. Didn’t want to be a Guardian anymore.” Jin swallows at the words, because, well, they sound so familiar. “After all, I was the Storyteller. I wasn’t miserable as a Guardian, but I could never be happy like that, because I would never be allowed to do magic for myself. Tell the Stories I wanted to tell.”
“But—“
“But what? I just wanted a little freedom. To try some new magic; to explore some new places. Is that so wrong?”
Jin is silent. The Lord of the West is completely focused on Jin now, his eyes bearing down on Jin with such intensity that Jin hopes it is impossible to be keeping watch on the rest of the compound, especially without Kato and Nishikido. He hopes it’s enough. He hopes the Guardians will come soon.
Jin’s also silent because there’s nothing he can say, really, when he hears his own arguments thrown back at him.
“You’re quiet.” The Lord of the West tosses long hair over his shoulder. “It’s because you’re like me, isn’t it? You’re me, after all. Me from a different world.”
“I’m not you,” Jin says firmly. “I’m me. Just like Kato isn’t Shige, and Kamenashi isn’t Kame. We’re not the same people, because we haven’t lived the same lives.”
Jin yelps as the fire whips at his arm, and it leaves a burn mark that throbs in time with the beating of his heart. It’s enough to make him drop the Book, and he’s forced to scurry away from it when tree roots try and snag his ankles. “Shouldn’t you be dodging instead of talking?”
“You’re right,” Jin says. “About some stuff. I wanted freedom. I wanted something different than what I was being offered, and I wanted it bad enough to change it.” Jin’s breath comes in shallow gasps. “But what you’re doing now? It’s not right.”
“I can’t go back to that,” the Lord of the West snarls. “If you’re anything like me, you understand that.”
“I do! But this… this plotting to bring other people down, this ‘getting people out of your way’ business… That’s not something I’d ever do.” Jin says. “You want to know why? Because I still care about people. And even if I’m stupid sometimes, and I can’t get the right words out, and cause problems for people, I still love them. I still want them to love me. I still want them to be happy!”
“Well, I want to be happy too,” the Lord of the West says. “I don’t need a lecture. I need you out of my way so I can figure out how to get the sword from Ueda.” Jin looks desperately around the room, “That’s the only way I can be happy.”
“He doesn’t make you happy?” Jin asks, pointing to the glass class. “Not at all?”
“Not as much as being able to do everything I want to do.”
“And that’s why we’re different,” Jin says. There’s nowhere Jin can run. There’s nothing Jin can do that ‘Other Jin’ won’t predict, because as unpredictable as Jin is for his friends, there’s always been a method to Jin’s madness. “I never would have put my Inspiration to sleep.”
“My Inspiration can’t leave me,” the Lord of the West says. “And you have no magic at all, because your Inspiration is off somewhere else.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jin says. “I could never keep Yamapi like that.” Jin pushes his hair out of his face. “Because Yamapi is most Inspiring when he’s doing what he wants, too.” Jin grunts as he dodges again. “Hypocrite.”
“Is he Inspiring you now? You need your Inspiration or you’ll never defeat me.” The Lord of the West laughs.
What would he never expect me to do? Jin asks himself. He can barely catch his breath, and his arms and legs sting, from splinters and cuts and tiny burns. He can’t keep this up much longer.
There’s only one thing Jin can do, Jin thinks, that this other Jin would never expect. And that’s giving up. When the fire comes crackling toward him, Jin closes his eyes and doesn’t move. The fire vine crashes into the ground where Jin might have rolled to, if he’d moved, and the floor splits again, tilting to an angle. The Book, on the opposite side of the new crack, slides down toward it thanks to the new angle, making it easy for Jin to lean forward and catch it right before it disappears underneath the shattered floor.
“You didn’t move,” Other Jin says, and Jin smiles.
“Yeah,” Jin says. “Bet you weren’t expecting that.”
‘Other Jin’ is right, Jin thinks grimly, as the Book falls into his arms, singing at finally making it home to Jin. Jin does need his Inspiration. He needs it more than anything, not just because Jin needs Inspiration to do magic, but because sometimes, Jin needs his Inspiration to make him feel more alive. Jin needs his Inspiration to give him something to keep fighting for.
The Lord of the West is angry, and it exhibits with a burst of icy wind that sends Jin back into the wall, near the glass but not close enough to disturb it. Where the case sits, rooted into the wall, is the only section of the room that remains untouched.
Jin opens the Book, and it seems to find the right page all on its own. “Jin pressed his back against the far wall of the room,” Jin reads aloud, and Other Jin’s eyes widen.
“What are you doing?” he says, and he sends a gust of wind at Jin even as he starts to falter, shoulders curling forward.
“Are you tired yet?” Jin responds, and the Lord of the West’s eyes go so wide Jin can see more white than iris. “Thing is, there’s only so much energy you can hold, Inspiration or no.” Jin gestures around the ravaged room. “Looks like you’ve used most of yours up.”
“No,” Other Jin whispers, even as he falls to his knees. Jin knows how that feels, that exhaustion, and it’s a grim satisfaction that mingles with empathy that rises up inside him.
That’s when Jin notices that the fire has caught the walls, climbing with intent towards the room of the wooden room, threatening the structure. Jin is almost too tired to move, and the Lord of the West, Jin thinks, is out of magic. The room will collapse, Jin thinks, and Jin guesses that counts as a defeat for Team East, but Jin hadn’t really planned on dying. There’s too much he still has left to do. Too much left to say.
Jin tightens his grip on the Book, and continues to read. “Jin opened the Book, and realized that there’s only one way he could possibly defeat the Lord of the West for good, and that was by taking away his Book. The Lord of the West was already weak, but so was Jin, who could barely catch his breath.” Jin is panting but he’s got to keep going.
Nakamaru had said once, many months ago, when Jin had still been confused as to his purpose here, and his part in this war, that sometimes it only took one or two words to change the entire course of a Story. Jin had turned rain into a field of wheat with just a single anxious switch.
Two words can change the way everything ends.
Jin knows exactly what his two words should be.
Part 7
