Disclaimer: The lovely story, setting, and characters of "Saiunkoku Monogatari" belong to Sai Yukino. I make no claims to them, ever—I'm using them here strictly for the purpose of entertainment, not profit.

Leave Unsaid Unspoken

When faced with danger, any sensible creature flees from it. Instincts kick in, and immediately, that creature knows that the price for staying will be its life—so it gets away. Human beings are more complex, however. They have two options: fight or flight. The second route is the cowardly one, the animalistic one. The former is both a champion and a fool's path, trying to fend off danger by one's own power. It seldom works, but those who go down the first path are the ones that people call their heroes.

Being a general, shouldn't he have been a fighter? Faced with danger, shouldn't he have struggled to overcome it? But he hadn't. He had chosen the weakling's path, and for good reason. It was because the danger he was in wasn't physical. Facing danger would have cost him neither his head nor his pride. No, the only thing he was in danger of was coming away from the battle with a broken heart.

"Coward." The world escaped his clenched mouth before he could stop it. It hung in the air before him, almost tangible, reminding him of what he was. Now that he had said it, there was no denying it. He had labeled himself, now. With no other choice, he had no option but to face himself.

Ran Shuuei wasn't sure when the person he faced in the mirror had stopped living up to his expectations. For as long as he could remember, he had been pleased with himself, satisfied. He was a man of the Ran clan. He lived up to all of his duties, excelling in not only swordsmanship and studies of law, but also in personality and appearance. What was wanting from him? He had the backing of the Ran clan, the love of the Emperor himself. Why wasn't that enough for him?

Because once a person has been rejected once, they can never again feel entirely whole. Though, to be fair, she had never rejected him outright. But in choosing Setsuna—or Yuki, Shuuei supposed—over him, she had forever robbed him of the boundless confidence and assurance that had once been his. Even worse, she had stolen from him the ability to be at peace with himself.

"Lost in thought, Ran-shogun?"

He turned, his reverie broken. Suddenly, it was as if the refuge he had found in his mind was shattered; he was thrust, painfully, back into the real world. The golden sun shone down upon him, creating a magnificent glare off of the soft blue lake he was standing next to. Shuuei raised one hand to shield his eyes, and saw the person who'd pulled him back.

"Shusui-dono," Shuuei's voice sounded, for the barest of moments, lost and wistful. The next instant, however, he had regained control of himself, and he offered the Lady a charming smile. "You caught me. Best not let anyone know how idle I've been."

"Oh, there's nothing wrong with admiring the scenery now and then, Ran-shogun," Shusui's smile was soft, and decidedly less ironic than Shuuei's had been. In the harsh daylight, her pale skin seemed almost translucent, her red lips vivid in her white face. "Even you need to relax sometimes, you know."

Shuuei inclined his head in agreement. A low, soft wind blew around them, sending the smell of the fresh spring flowers towards them. It would be pointless, now, to try and achieve that same level of pensiveness that he'd had only a moment ago. It was gone, now, so there was but one thing left to do.

"I was just about to take a walk. Would you care to join me?" There had been a time, in the earlier part of his youth, when he'd been certain that no woman would ever be able to reject him when he offered her that smile. Despite past occurrences, he still had a fair bit of confidence in it. And it didn't disappoint.

"Oh, I suppose I have some time." Shusui offered him another gentle smile, and suddenly, his own became a hint more genuine. As though sensing this, Shusui took a step towards him, and the two of them set off at a slow pace around the lake.

"Things must be quiet in the household now that Shuurei-dono is gone," Shuuei commented lightly. Now that they were walking, he was able to see the many different flowers. Vivid red roses, hydrangeas the color of lapis lazuli, and numerous others decorated the gardens, the lake at their center shining like a jewel.

"We were sad to see her go," Shusui agreed. She reached up one elegant hand to push a strand of her golden-brown hair back into place. It occurred to Shuuei, as he watched her, that her eyes were the exact same color as the lake—the gleam of them, and the depth, those were the same, as well. "I don't think there's anyone quiet like Shuurei-sama out there."

"Probably not," Shuuei agreed ruefully. "But then, we know that she left the court in your capable hands, Shusui-dono." It was natural for him to compliment women. It seemed as though that had been just another lesson, like "don't lower your guard in a fight," and "be sure to know someone's rank before you address them." And yet, with Shusui, he felt the urge to offer her more than the gentle, casual courtesy he gave everyone else. His politeness was habit; but with her, he actually wanted to be kind to someone.

She blushed at his words, and it was entirely evident thanks to the paper-thin quality of her skin. "No, you and I both know that someday, someone's going to fill that spot permanently. And it wouldn't be a sad day when that happens."

He wasn't quite sure what to say to that. It was true that he and Kouyuu now held the Emperor's favor, but that was thanks to Shuurei—or at least, the Emperor would never have noticed them enough to bestow that favor if it hadn't been for her. It wasn't his job to get involved; if anything, he should have been dissuading the Emperor from falling in love with a princess of the Kou clan. But seeing the two of them together, how could he? Anyone having feelings like that was no bad thing.

Especially since Shuurei would never be so blind to a man's emotions as she had been. It hadn't been all Gyokuka's fault. It was mostly his own, for being so foolish as to let his affections get in the way of his better judgment. But he had been so sure that the person he loved would love him back, and that confidence had led him to disaster.

But to have the same thing happen to a man like him twice was something that he would never permit. Which was why he was only walking around the lake with Shusui, instead of doing other things with her.

Shusui had evidently noticed his silence, because she reached out ever-so-tentatively to touch his shoulder. "You know, Ran-shogun," she murmured, "the Emperor has planted a lot of irises this year."

At her words, he turned and looked around. They had bypassed the roses and the hydrangeas, and, without him even noticing, they had come to be standing right in the midst of a sea of purple. It wasn't the deep color of the Ran clan; it was vivid and bright, the color of the most perfect amethysts. And yet, the irises were white, as well: the purple color fanned out from the center, dyeing the snowing white petals. Royalty. Trust. Purity. Faith. Hope. Wisdom. Admiration. Courage. All of these things had been conveyed to him by one flower.

"So I see," he replied at length, for some reason overwhelmed. Instinctively, his hand went to the hilt of his sword, so newly engraved with those very flowers. "This will be one thing to tell the council," Shuuei laughed. "the Emperor may have ignored the idea of a new tax on grains, but he has set to work beautifying the palace grounds!"

"You're too harsh on him," Shusui murmured. "It can be hard, trying to live up to people's expectations of you. Sometimes, it seems easier to disappoint all wishes than to try and fall just the tiniest bit short." Her voice was so low and soft, it seemed like the gentle roar of the waves against the sea. Gentle yet determined, like running water.

"And sometimes," Shuuei commented, "you become so trapped by people's expectations that you forget what you wanted for yourself." He reached down and plucked one of the irises from it's stem, turning it over between his nimble fingers.

Had he done that to himself? He couldn't remember a time when his prospects for the future hadn't line up completely from what the clan had wanted from him. Had there ever been a time when he'd forced himself into a different mold because that's what the Ran clan needed from him? Or had he always just wanted to be…this?

"Here," he extended the delicate flower towards her. "This one's more blue than purple." To be precise, it was indigo.

"Oh, thank you, Ran-shogun." She reached for it delicately, and, as she took it from his hand, Shuuei was struck by how delicate her fingers were. She was a tall woman, so she had never seemed weak to him, before. Gentle, yes. Delicate, yes. Elegant, definitely. But weak? Never. Yet, if he reached out and grabbed her hand, now, he could surely crush it with his own. Her strength, her quiet, regal dignity, was nothing compared to his.

"Do you ever regret thing in your life, Shusui-dono?" Shuuei's voice was soft, and once the words left his mouth, he thought better of asking such a question. Shusui paused, turning the iris bud over and over in her hand. Finally, she sighed.

"No." She replied with certainty. "There's a reason for everything, Ran-shogun. The people we meet, the connections we make, even the sorrows we endure, they all have a purpose. Happiness, sadness, anger…if we didn't feel all those things, we'd live very unfulfilled lives. So, no, I don't regret. Things make me sad, or fearful, but I don't wish they didn't happen. Even death has its place, I suppose."

"You're very philosophical, Shusui-dono," Shuuei muttered admiringly. "I'm amazed that you've come to such peace with your life at such a young age."

"Since when do you know my age, Ran-shogun?" she asked, a bit tartly. "I could be fifty and ten, but a man like you would never know it, would you?"

"...a 'man like me'?" Shuuei questioned. "And what kind of man is that, exactly?" He was pretending to be wounded, but he really was curious. How did she view him? Since he'd been at court, since they'd met that night, what opinions had she formed of him?

Shusui laughed softly. "It's getting late, Ran-shogun. I'm sure Kourin has already prepared the tea; I should really be getting back." She turned to leave, and Shuuei grimaced—all that, and now she was just going to leave without answering?

"Shusui-dono," he called, grabbing her wrist. "Surely you can be a few minutes late for tea."

She blushed prettily, again, against her magnolia petal skin. "Oh, no. A woman's dignity is determined by how punctual she is, Ran-shogun. Surely you know this? It's not becoming to keep someone waiting." And with that, she shrugged away his grip and walked off, through the irises.

He stood there for some time after that, gazing at the blue-purple reflection the irises cast against the lake. Instead of having the pensive expression he'd had before, however, he was grinning somewhat foolishly.

She hadn't told him what she thought of him, but she had taken his flower.

A/N: Thanks for taking the time to read "Leave Unsaid Unspoken." The title is meant to refer to the fact that Shuuei and Shusui have some sort of relationship, but she's not prepared to put it into words—probably because she knows that they don't view one another in the same way. This story is supposed to take place right after Shuurei leaves the Imperial Harem—about episode 12, I think. However, the background and nuances of Shuuei's life are taken from Season II, Episode 29 onwards. I hope you enjoyed this story, and, as always, any type of feedback is greatly appreciated.