Disclaimer:  Fushigi Yuugi is not mine, and I received no payment, monetary or otherwise, for the writing of this fic.  *nod*

Author's Note:  Despite what you may believe from the title, this fic is not, in fact, centered around Nuriko.  Although Nuriko plays a very large part in it, the title characters are, in fact, Houki and Hotohori.  This is as canonical as anything, I'd say, and describes the scene mentioned in two of my other fics, "Always" and "Risen."  Enjoy, and please, let me know what you think!  Feedback wa ii da yo! ^_^.

Beneath the Willow

by Ryuen

~*~

It was after dark, and I was most definitely not supposed to be out of the Harem.  As such, upon hearing the approach of footsteps, thudding against the walk, I froze in terror; it was, I reasoned, most likely a guard, come to patrol the area, or perhaps come to look for me in particular.  After all, someone might've looked in by now, discovered me missing.  If I were smart, I would gather up my skirts now, slip back into my room before I was spotted.  But...

I felt my jaw clenching, the determination sliding into me so quickly that I almost forgot what the blind fear had felt like. 

But, no.  No, I wasn't ready to go back yet; I wasn't ready to return to those suffocating halls, to the scrutiny of so many competitive eyes.

The Imperial Gardens had always been a favorite place of mine to just sit and think, to sort things out without the complicating distraction of court life.  There was just something about the silence of the place, or perhaps the way the line of willow trees blotted out the familiar rise of the palace, that made it feel almost as if isolation truly did exist, even in this busiest of cities.  And, of course, it was absolutely beautiful—flowers of every shape and type and color, rippling in the wind like ocean waves, adding a soft, mottled fragrance to the air....  No, I most definitely was not ready to return to my chambers yet.

As such, I had a quick decision to make.  There was little doubt that, with the moon out and me in my white sleeping robes, whoever was approaching would see me, even sitting here beneath the shadow of the trees.  So, that meant finding a hiding place—and quickly.  Then, after whoever it was had passed, I would simply slip back out, resume my nightly meditations, and then be back in bed in time for midnight bed check.

I'd been sitting on the grass, the cool touch of dew seeping into my robes, but now I rose to my hands and knees, crawled my way behind the line of willows and pressed my back to a trunk.  Luckily, I'd tied my hair into a simple sleeping braid earlier this evening, so my hair stayed neatly against my shoulder, not peeking past the edge of the tree.  My robes, however, flooding around me in a wash of luminous white, were another matter.  I drew them hurriedly up into my arms, piling the fabric onto my lap, then tugged my knees to my chest and held them there, and not a moment too soon.

Just as I let out a heavy breath, closing my eyes and leaning my head back against the trunk, the footsteps grew suddenly near, and I knew that the intruder had reached the grove. 

I sat there in silence for a few moments, holding my breath since I believed the man to be nothing more than a passerby, but the footsteps halted just in front of my tree, and much to my alarm, only a moment later, I heard the whisper of fabric, coming towards me!  For a long, frightening instant, I nearly leapt to my feet and sprinted through the grove, ran for the Harem as quickly as my feet would take me...but, something stopped me.  A cool, soothing wave of calmness washed over me, let my breath come normally, my heartbeat slow to normal.  And as I sat there, my back to the trunk of the willow tree and a hand clasped over my mouth, I heard the rustle of grass, the muted thud of footsteps, and a moment later knew that the intruder had lowered himself down just in front of me, and had his back pressed to my own willow.

Barely breathing at all, I turned my head to the left, very slowly, and peered around the edge of the tree; I caught a glimpse of an arm, the slope of a shoulder, and was just taking in the flood of silky brown hair when a sound met my ears, freezing me in place.  It was a sound I by all rights should not have heard, and a sound I knew that I never wanted to hear again—not if I could help it. 

It was the sound of a man weeping—this man, the man who sat back to back with me, victim and child of the same heartless night. 

At first I could only sit there, stunned, and stare at that trembling shoulder, listen to the harsh, choking sobs and intermittent gasps of breath.  Because...how sad, that this person could be feeling this type of grief and could only express it here, alone and in the dark?  How sad, that there was no shoulder to which he could turn, no friendly ear to hear his sorrows but the grass, the trees, the night sky.  And despite myself—despite knowing that I was disobeying a direct imperial order, that my very presence here would ban me from all activities for the next three weeks—I was abruptly and inexplicably filled with the desire to rise from my hiding place, circle the tree, and hold onto this man until the tears exhausted themselves.  I wanted to give him something to hold onto, even if it was nothing but the arms of a woman he'd never met.  I wanted to comfort him as no one had ever comforted me, let him know that not all tears are meant to be private and silent.

And then I regained my senses, removed the hand from my lips, and settled in to wait him out.

His sobs seemed to be slowing now, descending into soft, heartbreaking moans; I felt my eyebrows pushing upwards on my forehead, had to bite down hard on my lip to keep from weeping purely out of sympathy.  And then, something changed; the moans altered in volume, altered in pitch...and suddenly it was a voice echoing up into the night, a familiar voice that echoed one word, over and over again, over and over and over until I wanted to scream, until I felt the tears pooling in my eyes because suddenly I knew, suddenly I knew everything and understood...

"Nuriko," Heika-sama was sobbing, his voice wavering so badly that the word was almost unidentifiable.  "Nuriko...Nuriko...Nuriko..."

The world around me seemed suddenly lifeless, the beautiful surroundings drab and empty.  A hand clasped against my lips, pushing back the sudden eruption of sobs, but I couldn't help it.  A high cry escaped, sang out into the night against my will.  Because...because, no.  No, not him.  Not Nuriko.  It couldn't be true this was a dream it had to be this couldn't be true I must've fallen asleep—

I was aware of the sudden absence of noise around me, but couldn't bring myself to care; my vision was blurred with hot, angry tears, my breath coming in gasps that tore at my insides, ripped painfully at my throat.  And then, his shadow was above me, and I had been discovered.

It isn't real.  Stop crying; it isn't real.  It isn't real stop crying it isn't real stop crying it isn't real.  It isn't real.

Whether I believed it or not, the frantic mantra had always helped in the past; now was no exception.  I came slowly under control, still feeling that tingling in my nose and that heaviness in my throat...but, I stopped crying.  I pushed back the tears, pushed back the emotion, and slowly turned to face my emperor.

We sat in the shadows of the willows, but tiny slivers of moonlight washed down through the leaves above us, covered us in streaks of silvery light.  So it was that I saw him, up close for the first time, bathed in moonlight and so beautiful that it took my breath away.  It seemed strange and otherworldly, that a man could possess such beauty, that even swollen, red-rimmed eyes and features scrunched up in misery could not diminish it.  And yet, here he sat, clad in a simple white sleeping shirt and black trousers, drawing the very breath out of my lungs with the mere sight of him.

It wasn't love; I was not such a fool that I couldn't recognize the distinction between appreciating beauty and being in love with someone.  But, there was something, at least, between us, and even if it was nothing more than shared grief, it was something.  Something to hold onto, perhaps.

I noticed that his eyes had widened at the sight of me, cursed myself for having worn my hair in the style he had used so frequently.  But, well, I hadn't been expecting that my hairstyle would make much of a difference this evening, as I'd been fairly certain I would be spending it alone in the Gardens, not with my back pressed to a tree sharing tears with the Emperor of Konan.

With that thought, the reason for those tears came flooding back to me, and I knew I had to speak.

"H...Heika...sama," I managed, clearing my throat a few times in desperation.  "You...I-I didn't mean to spy on you, but...but, Heika..."  My words fizzled, and I could only sit there, sad and voiceless, and hope somehow that he understood.

Comprehension flooded into his eyes more quickly than I would've thought possible, and he extended a hand to me, gripped my shoulder firmly.  "You're Houki," he murmured, a very slight smile rising through the grief and tears.  "Nu...Nur..."  He let out a shaky breath.  "He spoke of you to me a few times.  The only woman beautiful enough to compete with him, he always said."

I felt my cheeks flushing, but it was more involuntary response than any real pleasure at the compliment.  My insides felt twisted, and it was all I could do not to clasp my hands to my churning stomach, hold them there until I felt normal again... 

"Please," I said, my tone suddenly urgent, "what's...what's happened?  Nuriko is...  He's all right, isn't he?  Isn't he?"

I'd turned as I spoke, clutched unconsciously at his hand; I knew that it was horribly presumptuous, but I wasn't all that concerned.  Heika, too, seemed to look past the gesture; his fingers moved just as instinctively to cover mine, and so it was that I was sitting there, my back pressed to a tree trunk and my hands wrapped up into the warmth of his, when I heard the news.

"Nuriko...was killed today," he managed, and not without difficulty.  "I'm not sure of the circumstances, but..."  He closed his eyes, eyebrows sliding into a downward slant.  "But, he was...in a lot of pain."

"You felt it," I whispered, feeling strangely numb, "didn't you?  You felt it, when he..."   I choked on the words, had to swallow back a sob.

He nodded slowly; strands of chestnut hair slipped down past his face with the movement, tickled against his cheek.  "Yes," he admitted hoarsely.  "I felt it."

I expected more.  After all, what was I doing here?  Why was I spying on him?  Had Nuriko and I been close?  Had Nuriko and I ever spoken of him?  What was I doing hiding in a grove of willow trees, anyway?

But, there was nothing.  Something wordless passed between us as we sat there, silent and grieving, and I knew even without being told that he and Nuriko had been very close.  Of course, given this man's reputation, I doubted it had proceeded beyond friendship, but...from what Nuriko had told me, they had spent a great deal of time together, during the times when the other seishi were elsewhere.  Of course, then he'd still been a woman to me, and I'd thought for sure that spending 'a great deal of time together' was actually a metaphor for something more intimate, but I had eventually come to realize that I had been wrong.

And yet, the depth of this sorrow, the depth of this pain...

You love him, my mind accused softly.  You love him, Heika-sama.  Even if it's as nothing more than a dear friend, you love him, and you never told him, did you?  You never let him know that, even if it wasn't how he wanted, he was loved. 

And it's tearing you apart, isn't it?

It was a guess.  An assumption.  The kind of train of thought that trickles into the mind of someone who is over-tired, grief-stricken, and sorely in need of a good night's rest.  And yet, it rang like truth in my mind, and I was speaking even before I knew what I was doing.

I twisted so I faced him, my knees folded beneath me, my sleeping robes pooling out around me.  And, as he watched, I drew my hands to his head, pulled him gently down, and wrapped my arms around him.  At first, he stiffened, and I myself was almost paralyzed for a moment with the realization of just what I was doing—but then the words came, and I knew that I was not entirely myself.

"It's not your fault," I breathed, my voice sounding suddenly lower and lighter.  "And it's never too late, ne, Hotohori-sama?  It's never too late to say it.  No matter how you mean it..."  My eyes squeezed shut; a trickle of tears slipped past my eyelids, fell against my cheeks.  "...it's never too late."

There was a long pause.  His head was nestled in the groove of my neck, his arms wrapped loosely around my waist; he was crying silently, the moisture chill against my skin, his broad shoulders shaking beneath my fingertips. 

And then he drew a shuddering breath, squeezed me tightly, and whispered, "I love you." 

This time the sobs were not silent, and even as I returned to myself, I had the sensation of someone else within me, tensing my fingers against his shoulders, feeling with my heart and my touch. 

"Nuriko," Hotohori choked.  "Nuriko.  I love you.  I love you..."

I stroked gently at his hair, its lengths soft and silvery-brown in the moonlight, and hugged him closer  "Hai," a voice that was mine and not mine whispered, "I know."  When he looked up at me in shock, I felt my lips lifting into a smile, had the sensation of my left eye dipping into a wink.  "And I know how you mean it.  But, it doesn't mean any less to me, you know.  Ai wa ai da yo*.  Ne?"

And then Nuriko's presence slid from me like a whisper of breath, and there was only me and the emperor of Konan, wrapped in each other's arms beneath the willow tree.

~*~

It is not surprising, I suppose, that things were different between Heika and I after that night.  Nuriko was a thread that slid through both our hearts, and in our search for strength, we leaned against each other.  The first invitation to join him for lunch arrived the next morning, just as I was enduring a reprimand for having missed the midnight bed check. 

The next arrived the following day, and the following day, and after a time, there was no need for invitations, because it was simply understood that I would take my meals with him. 

We talked of Nuriko, at first, starting down the long road to healing with memories of laughter and friendship and fun.  I told him of the time we'd sneaked out of the Harem and disguised ourselves as old beggar women to visit a bazaar in town.  He told me of how he and Tamahome had discovered the Nuriko was, indeed, a man, and of the awkward weeks that followed.  I told him of how Nuriko had once replaced all the face powder in the Harem with flour, and how we'd put the stuff on ourselves, giggling madly the entire time, in order to escape being singled out as culprits.

And then, he told me of their lunches together, and of a day when he was weary and depressed and missing Miaka, and Nuriko had sneaked him from the palace to go riding.  They'd ridden until they exhausted themselves, matching skills and wits, enjoying the sunshine and the warmth of the friendship forming between them.  And then, they'd crept back into the palace gates, Nuriko providing a distraction while Heika slipped past, and no one but the two of them had ever known.

Until now.

We began by speaking of Nuriko, sharing laughter and smiles and the occasional tear.  But, then, we spoke of other things.  His family.  My family.  How we'd come to this point in our lives.  What our goals were.  Our favorite meals, favorite colors, favorite seasons, favorite moments.

I suppose I knew that I was falling in love with him, had probably known it from the first moment I heard his grief-stricken sobs, but it was a difficult thing to admit.  Despite my involvement in the Harem, I was there more for the cultural opportunity than the hope of being chosen as Empress.  So, naturally, it came as quite a surprise when he arrived personally at the Harem one morning, flanked by three beaming advisors, took my hand into his, and offered a formal proposal of marriage.

A million thoughts churned in my head, chaotic and conflicting.  There was murmuring behind me, frantic, shrieking whispers from the other girls, and I knew that I would be a fool to refuse—not to mention that I would most likely be smothered in my sleep by every last one of these women if I dared say anything but "yes." 

But...Nuriko...

But...

I paused, and inexplicably, felt a soft smile come to my lips. 

Heika was standing before me, clad in regal robes of red and embroidered gold, his hair pulled into an elegant bun and his eyes so bright with love that it made me feel warm all over.  His fingers, long and slender, like the fingers of an artist or musician, were intertwined with my own, and I was reminded suddenly of our first meeting, of the grief we'd shared and the desperate way our hands had clutched together...

I felt a whisper like breeze against my skin, closed my eyes for a moment and thought I saw Nuriko standing there beside me, beaming with pride and happiness and joy, his lips pressed lightly to my cheek.  He didn't say anything, but after a moment, he withdrew, stood back and folded his arms over his chest and grinned at me.  And even though I knew that he loved this man, that it should by all rights be him who had the touch of these fingers against him and the love of these eyes on his...I knew, also, that this was what he wanted.

Happiness. 

That was all he wanted for you, Heika.  Hotohori-sama.  Saihitei.

Happiness.

I opened my eyes, smiled through the tears, and said, "Yes."  And then, because I needed to, "I love you."

Heika just smiled, pressed his hands to my cheeks, and brought his lips lightly to my own. 

"Hai," he whispered.  "I know." 

~owari~

 

*Ai wa ai da yo.  "Love is love."