Pollen and Passion

A/N - Hi all! Here's a yummy Shichinintai story!! If you don't know who the Shichinintai are, their story arc in Inuyasha begins on Adult Swim May 28th! Watch! And become obsessed!! Hee. Read and review! This story is NC-17...just not this chapter. This is probably gonna be a two part thing, with all the lemon being in part two. This chapter is more fighting, and setting things up. :) Hope you all enjoy!
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Disclaimer: Roses are red, blood is red too, I’m making no money, so please do not sue!

Japanese Guide:
Ooaniki- A respected person, like an older brother or superior.
Aniki-brother
Shimatta- a fairly strong curse
Daimyo- Japanese feudal lord
Aa / Hai- “Yes” informal/formal
Gomen- informal form of “I’m sorry”
Koishii- Dearest, beloved
Onegai- Please


“Achoo!”

It was springtime in the Ushitora, and Jakotsu was miserable. He lagged behind the rest of the Shichinin-tai, sneezing gustily and giving his poor abused nose the occasional swipe with his sleeve. The rest of the mercenary group dealt with it. Every spring Jakotsu had the same problem. It was pollen. All the pollen from the beautiful blooming trees and flowers caused the slender man’s frame to shake with sneezing and coughing. Spring had always been this way, even Bankotsu, who had known him the longest, couldn’t recall a spring where Jakotsu wasn’t ill.

“Kami-sama must be trying to tell you something, Jakotsu.” The cold voice belonging to the second in command rang out. “Maybe if you’d stop trying to seduce Ooaniki and go after some women instead, like a real man….” He trailed off and looked behind him with a smirk as the group stopped. Bankotsu sighed heavily. His second and third in command had been at each other’s throats for days now. Spring always put Jakotsu in a bad mood, and Renkotsu never failed to take advantage of the flustered swordsman. The leader of the Shichinin-tai turned around, dreading the sight behind him, and put his head in his hands.

Jakotsu had his hands clenched in fists and perched on his hips. The glinting black eyes were narrowed into slits and his inked lips were in a tight line. Bankotsu never saw his expression like that unless it was Renkotsu his gaze was fixed upon. It was positively poisonous. Then Jakotsu ruined the effect by sniffing heavily. His voice, normally melodic and satiny-smooth, was hoarse and dulled by the racking coughs that embraced him this time of year.

“But Renkotsu-no-aniki…I leave them all for you. It’s not my fault they’d all rather die than give in to your….tender overtures.” Even muted as the voice was, Jakotsu’s razor sharp sarcasm cut through the pollen-filled air. Renkotsu stood speechless for a second, then, an eyebrow twitching in fury, turned in a huff and began to walk again. Jakotsu laughed not-so-quietly to himself, then a fit of coughing took him over. Bankotsu sighed again and dropped back to help his closest friend. His mind laughed. ‘What would Renkotsu do if he knew that I willingly gave in to Jakotsu’s seduction a long time ago?’ He reached the pink-clad figure that had been forced to his knees, and held the lean shoulders, supporting Jakotsu while the poor man vainly tried to expunge the offensive powder from his lungs. When the spasms stopped, Jakotsu leaned heavily on the strong body beside him, head still bent over, gasping in huge amounts of life-giving air.

“Shi…ma…tta.” He breathed out loudly. “Gods damn this season.” Furious obsidian eyes fixed on amused blue, and softened. Jakotsu cracked a smile and, seeing as he was already propped against his lover, snuggled against the strong body for a brief second. Bankotsu’s eyes flew to the other mercenaries, who were either pretending ignorance or absolutely absorbed in their own separate activities, before he nuzzled the back of the pale neck propped against the side of his chest. He dropped a quick kiss on Jakotsu’s hairline, then pulled away and stood. Resigned eyes blinked at him as he pulled his beloved comrade up. Bankotsu’s sapphire eyes spoke volumes, apology, wistfulness, and lastly, a promise for later compensation. Jakotsu’s black orbs sparkled, and he gave a barely perceptible nod as he found his feet and dropped his leader’s hand. They had perfected this nonverbal communication months ago, when it became necessary to keep them both sane. Bankotsu often had a hard time believing that none of the other five had picked up on the relationship between himself and the third in command, especially Renkotsu, but thankfully considered it a blessing.

Jakotsu placed a hand over his heart, their sign for “I love you”, and smiled, a small, tender smile that only Bankotsu ever saw. The shorter man nodded, fleetingly touching his armor over his heart with his own palm, and turned to go back to the head of the line. His willowy lover watched him go, sighing wistfully and giving a final cough before sniffing and beginning to try and catch up. It really wasn’t fair…any of it. He hated spring. There was nothing he could do, he had always been susceptible to the yellow powder from hell, and he hated slowing the group down. They were on their way to another fight. A daimyo had hired them to put down a fairly large revolution in his lands. Things like these were becoming more and more frequent. Bankotsu had told him, when they got the message, that the braided man was fairly sure they’d be fighting in full-scale civil wars before long. Jakotsu longed for that just as much as his leader, but fighting in spring was torture for him. That was unfair. What was really unfair, however, was the fact that he couldn’t be with his lover openly anymore. His fine black brows furrowed as he trudged along, wheezing slightly. He had been in love with Bankotsu, and Bankotsu with him, since long before the younger man even came up with the idea for the Shichinin-tai. But the first time Suikotsu had seen them act on it, their hands joined, fingers entwined, he had bluntly stated to Bankotsu in private that men followed a leader who fought men, not loved them. Bankotsu, seeing the truth, if an unjust truth, in that statement, had staged a breakup with Jakotsu. The schizophrenic warrior had believed it, and had acquiesced to Bankotsu’s request to not mention the relationship to any other members they inducted.

Of course they had never really broken up. That would never happen. Theirs was not a puppy-love sappy romance, nor was it a lust-driven excuse for sex. Although, there was plenty of the latter, or at least there had been, when it had been just the two of them. They had found true, pure, binding love with each other; the kind theatrical tragedies were born of. They would die for each other, and in the profession they chose, that was a possibility, and they both knew it. The pale skinned swordsman sighed. It ended in a wheeze and he coughed again. Now their love was heavily bound, and had to be covered up. Unspoken words and sign language were only the tip of the iceberg. The lack of physical contact had hurt them both unbearably. For two men that were used to having the other’s touch only a few inches away, the necessary termination of tender gestures or contact was almost suicide. They bent the rules when they could, but Jakotsu desperately missed his lover’s fingers entwined in his.
Bankotsu’s voice from the head of the line startled Jakotsu out of his reverie just in time to avoid bumping into Kyokotsu’s thigh. He could already hear the sounds of fighting close by.

“Listen up! The battle is at the bottom of this plateau, down in the valley. The revolting villagers and soldiers have made it onto the grounds of the daimyo’s manor. That is why he summoned us.” Jakotsu already knew all this. “Renkotsu, Ginkotsu, you come with me to report our arrival to our employer. Jakotsu,” blue eyes caught black and silently begged them to be careful, to stay in one piece, “the others will be under your command. Watch for a short time and decide which side will win.” The eyes professed love and received it from the onyx pair before sweeping over the rest of the group. “Suikotsu, Mukotsu, and Kyokotsu, listen to Jakotsu. Don’t ask questions. Fight for whom he tells you to. The Shichinin-tai are never on the losing side! Renkotsu! Ginkotsu!” His black braid swished as the leader of the mercenary group began to walk down the steeply sloping hill. The other two followed suit, leaving Jakotsu and the rest on the crest of the plateau.
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They had joined the revolutionists. Jakotsu had never been wrong, and he could see an easy victory for the rag-tag group, even if the Shichinin-tai didn’t participate. Bankotsu and the other two had returned with their pay, so there was no risk of losing the money. The thrill of battle had overtaken both men, and they fought beautifully. They attacked as a pair against the surge of enemy soldiers before them. Jakotsu, even with his coughing and sneezing, was wielding his beloved many-bladed sword as perfectly as usual, taking out as many as fifteen at a time from a distance.

Fighting around the pale skinned angel of death was his leader/lover, wielding Banryuu expertly and defending the long-range killing machine from milling soldiers who had figured out the weakness of the distance weapon. Jakotsutou was fatal from far away, but it took time to bring back. Not long, but enough that the enemy could strike in that instant between attack and recoil. This was a system the deadly duo had figured out soon after they met. Bankotsu had been the one to show Jakotsu the weakness behind his weapon years ago, although it had been in self-defense. Jakotsu had been intent on slicing him up at the time. Now, together, they were unstoppable.

Bankotsu saw Ginkotsu and Renkotsu fighting together out of his peripheral vision. Feral growls were obvious to knowing ears, signaling Suikotsu’s kills. Kyokotsu was on patrol duty, killing, and mostly eating, enemies that tried to escape their deaths. Mukotsu was sitting this one out, his poisons too risky in such a body-filled area.

It was won easily, as Jakotsu predicted, and the Shichinin-tai were provided shelter in the deceased daimyo’s residence by the grateful revolutionists. While the other five were celebrating amongst their fellow fighters, Bankotsu and Jakotsu cleaned and polished their weapons on the porch of the manor. Both men were bloodstained and sweaty, their swords in not much better condition, and huge smiles covered both their faces. Bankotsu reverently polished Banryuu, thinking about the kills he’d added to his ongoing tally that day. Upon hearing a powerful sneeze, he snuck a glance over to a smirking, bloody Jakotsu who had just finished cleaning the final blade of his magnificent Jakotsutou. After the victory was effectually theirs, he had let the older man go play. He had set his sights on a young shorthaired manor guard, and Bankotsu knew it was pointless to deny his comrade that chase.
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Ta-da! Lemon next time! Hope you like!! Please, leave reviews, as they are my life-blood and the boys love the recognition and reading good things about themselves. **grin**

~Tareacel