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The samurai wasn’t like the others Aether encountered up till that point in Inazuma. He stood, stoically, lost in thought, until Aether approached with Paimon fluttering closely nearby. He was a huge man, easily towering above the Traveler, and turned his head towards Aether in curiosity, not in wild aggression.
“Uh, hi,” Aether said, and Paimon was tugging his scarf in terror.
“Dummy! This is a kairagi! We gotta go!”
“I’m looking for something.” The samurai said, seeming oblivious to Paimon’s fear.
The cool sea air stirs Aether’s hair, smelling of salt and distant blooming flowers. “What are you looking for?”
The samurai turns fully, looking down at Aether. He can’t see the kairagi’s eyes, but he feels the intensity of his hidden gaze. “I’ve...forgotten. Each time I think I'm about to remember it, it disappears from my mind. Do you know what I’m looking for?”
Paimon yanks at Aether’s scarf again. “This guy seems crazy, we should leave. Like, now.”
“Hang on, Paimon.” Aether pats her head before looking at the kairagi. “I wouldn’t know what you’re looking for, samurai.”
“Even though I don't remember what I was after, I can tell when something's not what I'm looking for. Whatever it is, it's not on me. Whatever it is…” The samurai clenches his head, as if trying to abate a headache. “Ah, curses! I can’t remember!”
The air changes, turning from something peaceful into electrified, dangerous. Aether takes a step back. This is the same feeling the other wandering samurai exude - senseless bloodthirst and violence.
The kairagi looks at Aether again, but no longer in curiosity. “It’s been a while since...I’ve wet my blade. Ah, she’s speaking to me now. I want to cut you up, I want to remember what I’ve forgotten through blood, I want…” He pauses, and Aether can hear his breathing behind the helmet he wore. It’s dangerous, Aether needs to go -
The samurai lurches forward, and Aether jerks back, but not quick enough. He can hear Paimon yelp as Aether is grabbed by his braid and yanked forward, making his scalp sting and burn.
“You will do,” the samurai says.
What? Aether tries to reach for his sword but his hair is practically being ripped from his head as the Kairagi pulls him along - it hurts too much to do anything but reach up and desperately attempt to free himself. Is he going to get killed here? Killed before he helps Sangonomiya’s army win, before he retrieves the people’s Visions, before he can save his sister from the Abyss’s manipulation…
“Aether!” Paimon is crying, falling behind the samurai’s long strides. “Stop, you bully-”
The samurai doesn’t acknowledge her at all, he’s looking straightforward as he drags Aether behind him, kicking and struggling.
“You will help me remember what I was looking for,” the Kairagi says. “Your body will suffice for now. Perhaps this exertion will jog my memory.”
Aether is dropped onto the grass and his sword is pulled from its sheath and tossed aside by the samurai, hitting the ground silently. What is the Kairagi doing? This is not combat. His shirt is being pulled up, his pants pulled down, and Aether makes eye contact with Paimon, who is watching in horror.
“Don’t look,” Aether tells her.
Tears are streaming down Paimon’s face. She can’t do anything, certainly. She seems to struggle mentally before finally turning, covering her ears, and floating away, sobbing. With her goes Aether’s hopes for this encounter to go well. His weapon is gone, as are his clothes one by one, and the reality of the situation is settling on him heavily. He isn’t going to be killed by the hand of the samurai, no. What is going to happen to him is much, much, worse.
“You have fought much,” the Kairaigi notes aloud, tracing a gloved finger along the scars on Aether’s chest and stomach, making the young man tremble. “You are indeed a warrior. This should be no trouble for you, then.”
“Please, I’d rather fight-I’ve never-” Aether pushes against and away from him, trying to create distance but being unable to do so.
The Kairagi doesn’t answer. He grabs Aether’s hips and flips him forcefully over, his hands huge against the Traveller’s body. Aether can feel the blood rushing to his face and…down there? Perhaps it’s the fear causing it. Certainly not by being overpowered by such a huge man.
“I shall prepare you for penetration. As a warrior of your status, I’m sure you will adapt quickly to me.”
“No, no-”
The man pulls on his glove, ensuring its tightness over his hand, and leans forward, forcing two fingers into Aether’s mouth, pressing down into his tongue. “If you wish to make this easier, it’d be in your best interest to wet my fingers. I am kind enough to give my opponent a fighting chance.”
Aether can only obey and lick the man’s gloved fingers, tasting leather, tasting his own fear. He feels absolutely nauseous. Is this really happening? The ronin removes his fingers and lifts the boy’s hips up, leaving him to grasp feebly at the dirt in an attempt to leverage himself. The initial intrusion is a painful one. Aether’s never explored back there himself. Tight muscle giving way to force, uncomfortable, unnatural. It hurts. It feels weird.
More stretching ensues with a second finger entering and Aether can feel tears beading at the corners of his eyes, dripping pearls. He never cries. He always resists any urge, especially around Paimon. But now the tears fall unabated. This doesn’t feel good at all. Maybe some part of him hoped that even in such a scenario, there would be at least some pleasure. Any second now the kairagi can just kill him, slay him with a blade or a stroke of lightning, ending him on the spot. Life has never felt so delicate.
He tries not to make a sound. He grits his teeth, steels his will, clings to his pride. Not even when the samurai is thrusting his fingers in and out, not even when those fingers leave him gaping and twitching. Aether won’t relent, he won’t give him that satisfaction. He can’t.
There’s a small moment of fumbling behind him and once again a wave of nausea and fear rolls over him. He’s possessed by a last ditch of energy, throwing his weight forward against the hand around his waist, tearing up dirt and grass under his scrabbling hands. The kairagi chuckles and pulls Aether back, undoing any of the progress he made.
“I like your spirit,” he says, pressing Aether up and into something hard and hot and wet. Chills ripple across the Traveler’s skin. It’s happening. He’s really going to be taken like this against his will.
The intrusion is a blinding white pain. The kairagi spits on the two of them to reduce the friction, but the pain is indescribable despite it. Sheer agony and tearing and ripping and being filled in the wrong way - it feels unnatural, it feels uncomfortable. The kairagi doesn’t take a moment longer before thrusting his hips, pulling out before slamming back in. Aether can’t help but shriek at the pain.
“Ah-It’s coming to me. I think I remember something.” The man’s hips are colliding against Aether at an almost painful rate - a steady slap, slap, slap that rings in the open field.
Aether is practically upside down in the kairagi’s grip, held only in place by the samurai’s hands and cock. The grass swings dizzily below him and he can’t formulate a response even if he wanted to, saliva dripping from his open mouth. Is this really what is to become of him? A cocksleeve for a kairagi? His head feels hot from being held like this for so long, the sea breeze doing nothing to dry the sweat on his forehead.
“Two children wielding swords and sparring, next to their family homes... a hut…”
Aether feels as if he’s being split down the middle, filled too much, used too much. His thighs must be bruising from the pressure of the kairagi’s fingertips. Is he going to be killed once the kairagi is satisfied? Have his neck split while he lays vulnerable and used?
“They would take the steps behind the house to the slope to spar...But who were "they"?” The man pulls almost all of the way out, then thrusts harshly in all of the way, making Aether cry out. “Ugh, my head hurts. I can't... remember…”
“Please,” the Traveler says, his voice raspy, but he’s not even sure what he’s begging for. To be put out of his misery? For him to finish quickly? Even if the samurai drops him now, he isn’t sure if he would have the strength to get up and crawl away.
“Curses, curses! Why can't I remember?”
It hurts so bad. How can a man’s hips move so fast? Muscles that Aether didn’t know he had are throbbing in protest at the exertion.
Strangely, however, as a rhythm gets established the agony begins cautiously melting into something different, the tightness fading as his body loosens. And then the kairagi hits something inside of him that causes Aether’s entire body to seize up. And then again. And again.
“A-Ah-” A sound is escaping him, a foreign one, one that scares him to the core. No. No. He doesn’t want to feel pleasure. This doesn’t feel good. It feels awful. He hates it.
(And yet…)
“I remember that we were inside a great encampment. Men armed and dressed in armor were all around us…” The kairagi grunts, tightening his grip on Aether’s ass painfully. “I remember how I felt then. Mora and honor could all be gained by the sword…Ah…As long as I had the last laugh at the end of the raging battle, what did anything else matter? To the victor go the spoils! So, I had such moments of satisfaction in my time, did I? When I was crowned with honor, acknowledged by my superiors, when the wine flowed freely…” He presses as deep as possible and the Traveler feels a flood of heat and wetness that makes his head spin, hot cum that Aether can tangibly feel filling him up, making him quiver and groan at the sensation. He’s dropped to the ground suddenly, so suddenly that he doesn’t have time to raise his arms in reflex, and his face hits the grass hard.
“You look good like that, with a warrior’s seed pouring out of you.” The Kairagi’s foot nudges Aether, making him jerk in reflex. “It’s an honor to have a samurai of my status breed someone like you.”
Aether can’t bear to look up at the man. He can feel the cum shamefully dripping down his trembling thighs, splattering white on the ground under him. He feels filthy, inside and out. Even if he showered and scrubbed as hard as he could he knows that the sensation will forever be etched into him. The Kairagi nudges him again, and then knocks him over onto his back, embarrassingly exposed.
“You didn’t cum, huh? Can’t appreciate a good cock when you’re gifted one?” The man tsks . “I’ll do you this as a favor then, as thanks for helping me recall some of my memories.”
No. NO. Aether doesn’t want to feel pleasure. He refuses it. He does not want to grant this man that satisfaction. He squirms weakly as the samurai takes his member in his gloved hand, gripping it, and then begins stroking, establishing a steady rhythm of pumping it in his fist. It feels good. It feels good. The heat that already existed in his abdomen with the previous sex burns brilliantly, eager for the release that Aether had been fighting against.
“No,” he croaks. “Please.”
“Consider this ‘thanks’,” the kairagi says, and Aether unravels in his hand, the friction and sensation and pressure all too much for him to handle.
~
When Paimon finds him, Aether is sitting on the edge of the cliff, his legs dangling into the air. She brings a blanket, though whether she truly understands what happened, Aether isn’t sure. For once she doesn’t pepper him with questions, she simply drapes the blanket over him, covering his bruised shoulders, and sits beside him quietly, her little hands curled in her lap. The sun is setting over the horizon, the sky blotted red and orange.
“Clear skies tomorrow,” Paimon says.
“Sailor’s delight,” Aether replies.
They make eye contact, and Paimon’s expression says thousands of words - I’m sorry, I couldn’t help, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
“It’s okay,” Aether assures her. His words feel hollow. He’s so tired, so drained. He leans his head against Paimon’s, physically and mentally exhausted. She allows him that comfort, and they remain like that for some time.
Aether doesn’t tell anyone of his encounter with the Kairagi, and Paimon respects this, not breathing a word about it. They don’t talk about it with one another either, pretending as if nothing happened, and go about their days with a forced sense of normalcy.
In truth, Aether hesitates to continue doing commissions. But it’s not like food is free, and their wallet is not overfilling with savings. Paimon does what she can, picking up the odd little chore from the townsfolk, but it doesn’t take more than a week for the need for commissions to become a necessity.
“You don’t have to do it, Aether. We can find some other ways to make money.” Paimon hovers closely, looking worried. “I’m not even that hungry.”
Aether refuses her sweet offer. “It’s okay, Paimon. Stay here at the teahouse, I’ll be back soon.”
Paimon pouts, but doesn’t argue. “Be safe.”
“Of course. I always am.”
Well, that’s a lie. It’s pretty common to return from commissions battered and bruised. Nonetheless, he always tries his best to keep his promises to Paimon. It’s difficult to leave the comfort of the teahouse and head out again to the Inazuman beaches in the name of commissions. Especially considering what happened last time…
In all the time he’s been working with the Guild, he’s never heard of someone encountering a sentient kairagi, or any sentient nobushi for that matter. Normally they’re simply bloodthirsty monsters that only remember how to fight and kill and steal. They don’t remember their pasts. They don’t care to try and recall it. Reasoning doesn’t work with them.
Aether pauses, looking down at the commission sheets again. It’s one he receives frequently: defeating hilichurls that had begun encroaching on human society again. He looks up, scanning the various hills and slopes around him, the long strands of grass waving in the breeze. He can’t help it, his mind wanders frantically, searching for movement, for the sound of thunder.
What if he’s here?
A fleeting thought, like it’s drifting on the breeze. The paper crinkles in Aether’s clenched hands.
No, he can’t live in fear. He’s strong. He defeated Dvalin and saved Liyue. He’s no weakling by any means. A rogue kairagi should be the least of his worries.
Aether goes off the path and strides through the grass, feeling determined. This isn’t just about him. It’s about Paimon too, making sure she has enough to eat, and feeling safe and secure. She doesn’t deserve to feel scared.
The Traveler scans around for any smoke in the sky, a tell-tale sign of hilichurl activity, but nothing immediately catches his eye. This is the correct island according to his map, but normally hilichurl camps are incredibly noisy and easy to spot. Where are these guys? Did another adventurer complete the commission already?
“It must be fate that you’ve appeared before me again.”
Aether freezes, his heart pounding heavily in his chest. No. No. This can’t be. That voice immediately sends his body into fight or flight mode, but simultaneously he can’t move. The air becomes electrified as the kairagi approaches him, his hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed sword. He’s taller than Aether remembered, and just as imposing. The monster from his nightmares in the flesh.
“You provided my body and mind a refreshing experience, though I still have much to recall from my past. It is no coincidence that we have crossed paths again. Let us duel once more, you and I.”
Aether’s knees are weak. Move. Move! He stands, numbly, as the samurai approaches him, those large hands moving towards him, to grab him. He’s going to be manhandled again. And his body, his mind, aren’t letting him do anything about it. It’s going to hurt. It’s going to hurt so bad.
Why, then, is he hard?
The kairagi’s hand cradles his face, his thumb rubbing Aether’s cheekbone. The other hand moves to the Traveler’s lower back, pulling, no, dragging him closer, against all of the worn fabric the man wears. He smells of leather and blood and dust - earthly organic scents that are now achingly familiar.
“I’m going to breed you again. I’m going to use your body to help me remember.”
“No,” Aether says, but it’s a weak protest. What is wrong with him? His body is reacting strangely to the promises the kairagi is making, all those filthy words bouncing around his head. Breed. Breed. Breed.
“Your body tells me otherwise.” The kairagi flicks Aether’s hard-on, making the boy shudder harshly. “It remembers our last meeting. I will be sure you feel pleasure from this exchange as well.”
And for some reason, Aether is beginning to believe him.
The samurai forces Aether to the ground, removing his pants, throwing them off to the side. They’re right beside the road, and this fact makes the Traveler instinctively thrash in protest, struggling against his grip. “N-Not here, please-”
The kairagi chuckles lowly, lifting up Aether’s hips and bringing their groins together, the motion granting Aether a lightning strike of friction through his body - simultaneously too much and too little. “If anyone interrupts, I will strike them down with Ichika Dousetsu. Nothing will stop me from regaining memories of my past.” He forces his fingers into Aether’s mouth. “Nor can anyone stop me from mounting you.”
It has been less than a week since their last encounter, and Aether quickly discovers that his body has yet to fully recover, his entrance rippling with renewed pain as his tears reopen. Even with just one finger he groans in pain, arching his back in complaint, but the samurai presses his pelvis down with his free hand, demanding control. There’s that uncomfortable sensation again, the unnatural feeling that he had experienced previously bucking its head, but as the samurai thrusts and twists his finger inside that sensation fades into something akin to pleasure. The finger retreats and advances, tugs at his rim, spears him open, and Aether gives into it, allows himself to moan, his fingers digging into the grass and dirt below.
The second finger joins the first and the pushing and pulling of it all is hypnotizing, his body moving involuntarily in desire, in need. His fingers are so big. It feels like the samurai must have explored every inch of him already, but then with a new twist of his wrist, Aether is quickly proven wrong. Is he…going to be undone just by this? Aether becomes acutely aware of how hard he has become, his cock a hard curved against his stomach, oozing precum.
What is wrong with him?
“You are taking me much better today.” The samurai splays Aether’s legs apart, thrusting his fingers so rapidly that the boy’s vision momentarily goes white. Aether’s crying out freely now, he doesn’t care about his pride, he doesn’t care about what the samurai must think of him. It’s far too late for any of that. “Or perhaps you’re starting to enjoy this?”
The fingers slow their assault, and Aether looks up at the man above him, the cold helmet that stares back emotionlessly, framed with violet strands of hair. It’s both erotic and lonely to not see his face. Strangely, some part of him wants to be kissed, to have fingers trail through his hair, but the samurai does not grant him that wish.
(Not that he’s in the position to ask, after all.)
The man loosens his pants, revealing that massive cock that nearly split Aether apart before, heavy and dripping. The Traveler trembles at the mere sight of it - it’s a lot more menacing seeing it before him than simply feeling it from behind. He knows he must be gawking, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes from it.
The samurai grabs Aether by his hair, yanking him into an upright position, forcing his face to the man’s dick. The boy doesn’t have an opportunity to protest, his mouth is forced down, the cock hitting the back of his throat and making him choke. The taste and smell is overpowering. Again. Again. He isn’t given a chance to breathe, a chance to even think, his face is getting shoved into the kairagi’s pubic hair, he’s coughing and gagging but the movement isn’t stopping. Again. Again. He’s slobbering on his cock, drooling over it, making a mess of it. His scalp burns from his hair being yanked, he’s certain his face is dripping with snot and tears, he doesn’t know when it will all end -
And then, it does. The kairagi pulls Aether off suddenly, letting the boy gasp and weep in his grip. The samurai's breath is heavy, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and even in his messy state Aether is somewhat pleased by the sight, thinking that he had that effect on the man.
No. Wait. Why is he thinking that way?
He doesn’t have time to ponder it. His weight is shifted, his bare legs being tossed over the samurai's shoulders, all of the pressure put towards his head. He can’t hide his face. The kairagi is pressing into him, and even though Aether was fingered as much as he was there’s a stretch, stretch-
He’s full. He’s so full. As soon as Aether thinks that it must be all the way in, the kairagi moves further, going in deeper. He’s not given a chance to adjust, to adapt to the sensation. And then he’s filled to the brim. Their bodies are flush together, wet, hot skin, the man’s fingers wrapped around the boy’s thighs, bruising them.
“T-Too much-” Aether manages to gasp.
The samurai exhales heavily. It sounds like his teeth are clenched behind that mask. “Masanori. He would say: "Come on, Masanori, have another!". Masanori-”
He pulls out and then thrusts harshly in, fully sheathing inside, and Aether can hear his own moan echoing across the field. His vision is spotty, a kaleidoscope, but the samurai is already moving his hips again, colliding their bodies together. It hurts but it feels so good. It feels so good.
“A man who was my brother-in-arms.” He moves his hands to grasp at Aether’s hips, pulling the boy down on his cock, making him cry out. “Ugh. So tight. Your body puts up a good fight. I will…prevail. Ah!”
Aether can feel heat pooling inside of him, a coil of desire, tightening with each thrust. Tighter and tighter. It’s not just having a cock inside of him that’s doing this, it’s the motion of being fucked, the movement of hips, being bred like a dog. It is all so incredibly arousing.
“He said something that... led to an argument, and so he left.” The thrusting slows as the samurai seems to strain remembering. The slow drag of his cock going in and out is almost as overwhelming as the fast pace was - Aether finds himself moving his hips needily, trying to get more movement, trying to get him to go quicker. “Why would he just leave like that?”
Aether doesn’t have the faintest clue. In truth, he hasn’t really been granted the opportunity to think much about the samurai’s past. (He has had a lot on his mind and in his body, after all.) But when the kairagi does remember, what happens to Aether? Will he be killed once and for all?
The samurai grunts, as if coming to some conclusion, and then begins moving, pounding suddenly, making Aether scream. It’s so rough. So fast. But he’s coming undone to it all the same. He’s getting hit in a strange spot inside repeatedly, sending waves of pleasure and chills all the way down to his fingertips and toes. He’s going to cum. He’s going to climax from being raped.
But he doesn’t have time to feel ashamed of it.
The man hits that spot again just right and that’s more than enough to push Aether or the edge, squirting cum over himself, soaking his shirt. He can’t think, he can only vaguely process that the samurai hasn’t stopped thrusting, uncaring of the fact that Aether had come. He feels drained but he’s still going to be used all the same.
“The more I remember, the more I feel anger and a deep pain rise up from within me.” The samurai speaks as he moves, his words strained. “Perhaps my past is indeed far from a beautiful story.”
That much seems obvious, even to Aether, who simply lays limp in the man’s grasp. He doesn’t even have energy to try and anchor himself on the ground anymore.
“Tsk, you are a…good warrior. Your body brings me…much pleasure. Ah! Even though I have forsaken my past…I am going to continue using you.”
As Aether gets pumped with the samurai’s cum, he realizes he really doesn’t have any say in the matter, of course, he never did in the first place. Not since they met on that cliff overhanging the sea.
Maybe it’s not a bad thing anymore.