Call Me Uncle
By: Amber Michelle

This was written for the Yuletide exchange over at the saiunkoku_fic community on Livejournal. The request was for a story in which Shuurei found out about Reishin's relation to her, his reaction, and as much commentary from Shouka, Houju, and other characters as I could manage. I'm not happy with my characterization of Shuurei, but oh well. Better luck next time.

The "hour of the dog" is 7-9pm.

...

Reishin woke to the dark ceiling of an unfamiliar room. Rain hammered on the roof tiles, dripped and poured onto the lawn outside, spattered onto the window when a wind swirled and cut gaps in the tapestry of water. Daylight, weak and gray, cast the reflection across the floor, onto the opposite wall, and he watched the phantom waterfall until his eyes drifted closed again and the sound of books sliding onto their shelves lulled him, a whisper almost like footsteps. His brother was out there; this was Shouka's doing - perhaps something slipped into his tea - Reishin remembered, and yet could not think of why. He was in the Archives. This was the spare room, the one his brother used when staying late to complete his work.

Reishin never could understand that. A similar room was tucked in the corner of the Civil Administration office, but Kouyuu was the one who used it, in spite of Reishin's pointed reminders he had a perfectly suitable bed at the manor, where one could be sure there wouldn't be a Ran brat- that is, nothing unclean would try to climb between the sheets.

Perhaps he fell asleep; he dreamed of cherry blossoms, and they were so real he could smell them, though for some reason he couldn't lift his hand to touch one - drugs, he remembered. Shouka had more sleeping potions and odd concoctions than a pharmacy, and he never let anyone look at them, even his own brothers. Which had he used? Something Reishin wasn't resistant to - something very nearly poisonous, then. Naming the possible substances made his dream fade and brought the sound of rain back to him, the bitter, pasty taste of his brother's tea on his tongue. A faint light warmed his eyelids and porcelain clinked on the other side of his room.

This time he was able to sit up. Reishin rubbed stickiness from his eyes and propped his weight on one elbow, which trembled under the strain but held long enough for him to open his eyes and look at the world right-side-up. His hair slithered over the pillow, onto the sheets. On the opposite side of the room, dressed in a dark pink robe and pouring tea was-

Reishin's elbow slipped and he fell back onto the pillow. Shuurei! His heart pounded and he stared at the ceiling. Shuurei. He couldn't remember why he'd want to run away from his lovely niece, but it would come to him-

"You are awake." Her murmur made him turn his head, look at her out of the corner of his eye. "Would you like some tea?" She offered a plain white cup with both hands, and heat flooded Reishin's face when she smiled. Was she really eighteen - or was it nineteen? Her smile hadn't changed at all; the round face, the petal-pink lips, her hair tied in loops and shining in the candlelight. The effect was only spoiled a little when her lips trembled and her eyebrows started to draw together. "If you'd rather not..."

Reishin reached for the cup and assured her he wanted it - nearly snatched it from her hands as a matter of fact, which he apologized for, and her i-if you say so... um...? was so cute and confused he almost gave her his name, as that seemed to be what she was expecting. His hat was on the table and his hair loose, the tie coiled next to it, so she wouldn't know him as the 'strange man' who begged her to call him uncle two summers ago - and damn Houju for telling him she called him strange. If anybody in that room had been strange, it was the masked eccentric Reishin called a friend when he was being generous with the term.

He examined her while he drank. This was like waking to a fairy tale - she truly was like a celestial maiden, untouchable, unattainable, at least for Reishin. If he stayed much longer it would be rude not to introduce himself, and she couldn't walk away thinking him boorish. He had to leave, and yet, if he stayed, wouldn't she serve more of this wonderful tea, and maybe a manjuu bun or a sesame ball, something straight from her own kitchen?

Shuurei waited two steps away while he sipped, bearing up well under his stare. "About earlier..." she began, her eyes drifting to the side, to the window and its pattern of water. She saw the lift of his eyebrows and continued. "Father didn't serve tea, did he?"

He blinked up at her. The cup she'd brewed for him was perfect - the bright yellow reminded him of sunny fields, green grass, everything being drowned outside. For a moment he couldn't remember what any other kind tasted like. "Of course he did. Shouka would never neglect a guest."

She sighed heavily and rubbed her forehead. I knew it, she muttered, and immediately mustered a smile for him, clasping her hands at her waist. "I'm so sorry about that. He told me someone was resting back here and I shouldn't disturb you, but I knew-"

"Don't be silly - a single cup of my brother's tea is nothing to be worried about."

"Brother?" Shuurei paused, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Now the heat drained from his cheeks, and Reishin felt his throat seize and assail him with the urge to vomit. Idiot. Idiot. The drug was no excuse. "Nothing." He tossed the last of the tea back and pounded the cup onto the bed, where it tipped over, unsteadied; he pushed up from the mattress and leaned on the corner of the sleeping alcove, his crimson sleeve a red, bloody blur in his peripheral vision. Shuurei had raised her hand, half-bent to reach for the cup, and Reishin averted his eyes. "I should be going now - my department is in the middle of an audit-"

She reached to support his elbow. "But you're not well! Father said you were suffering from exhaustion-"

"Thank you for the tea." He stumbled on the hem of his robe trying to lean away, and the jolt made his head feel light, like it was spinning. No wonder she came in to see him - couldn't his brother come up with a better excuse? "We're a high-volume department," he said, turning his head enough to see her through his hair. "If I'm gone any longer, my work will inconvenience someone else - we can't have that, now can we?"

Shuurei halted, her fingers a hair from brushing his sleeve and branding his arm through the layers of silk. "Well, I suppose." She drew back and straightened, plucking at her collar and shifting on her feet like a child thwarted. He knew all of her gestures, every curl of her hand, tilt to her eyebrows - her thoughts were obvious when she chewed her lip. "But please, rest as soon as you can. You were asleep for almost six hours, so you must have needed it."

Six hours? Reishin turned and waded toward the door, which stood open to admit him to the unlit stacks. The bookcases were long rows of black and gray shadows lit by faint light from the windows and the golden glow of Shuurei's candle. Six hours - his department really was in the middle of an audit, and while Kouyuu had undoubtedly finished his portion of the work and most of Reishin's as well, there would be documents he wanted to see with his own eyes before they were signed and sent out. Shuurei bustled behind him - wait, your hat, your ribbon and he managed to escape without giving her his name or department, and without retrieving his umbrella. He remembered it when he opened the door to the rain and saw the water streak down in sheets, splashing onto the flooded lawn, pouring from the eaves.

She would fetch it for him if he asked. Shuurei did too much for men - for everyone - when she should be taking her due from them instead. Seien was the only one who had it right.

Reishin walked one hundred steps across the lawn between the archive and the covered corridor that led to the palace proper. It was easier with every step; his head stopped spinning, his eyes stopped trying to convince him they were out of focus when everything looked fine - a little blurry, but fine. Cold seeped into his hair, onto his scalp, dripped along his neck and under his collar, while the hat and his hair tie dangled from the fingers of one hand. It had soaked through his red robe by the time he reached the eaves of the walkway, and the hem dripped and dragged on the floorboards, smearing his muddy footprints. Instead of turning toward the administration buildings, he took a left branch - also uncovered, but sheltered by the interlocking branches of maples newly green - and set his sight on the dormitories, which he hadn't set foot in since he passed the Civil Service exam. Memories waited there - a game of go he lost to Yuushun, a disaster in home-brewed sake, his first attempt at carving a mask according to the planes of Houju's face; and it had better offer a hot bath today, if the servants knew what was good for them.

The open bath had memories too, which he would do well not to entertain with Shuurei's perfume still fresh in his mind and Kouyuu waiting for him at the office.

"Reishin?"

He stopped and turned around. Shouka stood between the gates to Dormitory Seven, sheltered by the narrow roof. Reishin turned his back on his own goal - Ten - and hurried to the dry patch of pavement that waited beneath the overhang. "Brother, you didn't tell her-"

"What are you doing, Reishin?" Shouka pulled him in by the shoulder. "You'll catch a cold if you stay out here like that!"

He seemed truly distressed; his brows had dipped and his hands were tense. Reishin let himself be pulled and prodded across the plain stone courtyard and into the hall, where a minor official normally sat at the table to take names and give room assignments. The chair was empty, and all but two of the tokens were there. A brazier heated the air, and a cup of cold tea waited beside the roll list and its six names. None of them looked important. He shivered.

Shouka grabbed a token and hurried him to an empty room. They made enough noise to wake the entire place with their clomping, graceless steps and Reishin's protests. What are you doing? I never get sick! Why did you tell her to- The tremble in his voice and the chatter of his teeth ruined the argument. His brother left long enough to retrieve towels and a robe, and a small tea set, then threatened to peel him like an orange if he didn't get rid of his wet robes and dry off. If anyone else had given that ultimatum Reishin would have refused; as it stood, he was tempted to throw his wet clothes at Shouka, who measured tea and powder into the pot and wondered aloud that Reishin had managed to keep his job when he did such childish things as wandering in the rain and running away from his own niece.

"Brother," Reishin said, interrupting him, the pitch of his voice too much like a whine to be comfortable. He sat on the bed closest to the table; of the three, it was the only one not under a window. "Shuurei came in to check on me - I barely got out alive-"

Shouka sighed and capped the tea pot. While it steeped, he walked across the room to kindle the tiny iron brazier by the door. "I'm sure Shuurei took good care of you. She's a sweet girl."

"Of course she is." Reishin spread his hands on his knees and listened to the rattle of iron and his brother blowing on the coals. He'd stopped shivering once his robes were replaced and laid out on the second bed, but his hair was still cold and damp. The tips of his fingers were cold. Only his face felt hot, and he didn't know why. "She's my perfect niece, and I was forced to be rude when she tried to get me to introduce myself."

The moment before his brother answered stretched. "You could have told her."

"Nonsense. Then she'd hate me twice as much."

Shouka wedged the brazier closed with an iron. "You forgot your umbrella, didn't you - and refused to go back inside to speak to her." Reishin crossed his arms and glared at the teapot, and his brother sighed again, this one long, deep, the sort of sigh that said one's baby brother was being annoying. He could relate. "Reishin... what am I going to do with you?"

Neither of them seemed to have the answer to that.

His brother made him wait for his robes to dry, then walked Reishin to the gates and summoned a carriage to take him home. I'll tell Kouyuu what happened, Shouka promised. The clouds were lighter, illuminated white and yellow directly overhead, though the sun offered no warmth from its arch above the rain, and water dripped incessantly, splashing in long, dirty puddles below the eaves of the outer palace wall. Inside the carriage Reishin was safe from the rain, but the smell of wet straw and damp wood choked him, and the rattle of the cabin over ruts in the streets jarred his teeth. Glimpses of shop fronts and lonely awnings streaked past when he lifted the curtain to look outside; the streets were empty, but many doors stood open to show walls of paintings for sale, shelves of writing boxes and inkstone, sake, salt and sugar, knives. Muddy straw mats soaked in rainwater outside each shop.

Kou House, in contrast to the imperial palace, was not flooded or muddy; the walk was swept clean, if still slippery, and a servant came out with an umbrella to walk Reishin inside. Water drained from the grass to the ornamental lake, to the little streams that meandered between his groves of cherry and plum, beneath the covered walkways. He dismissed the maid as soon as they reached the central pavilion and walked to his rooms alone while his skin crawled with the chill, listening to the silky, burbling slide of water against the false banks, the splash of droplets falling from the trees, plopping into the water like little rocks. Damp leaves, grass, and pine scented a breeze, and when he opened his door and went inside, sharp frankincense lanced his nose, cleared his sinuses, reminded him of home with its citrusy scent. All the braziers were lit, and the bath was heated; he yanked his sash loose, pulled his robes off - first the red outer layer, which he left by the door, then the white, which he peeled from his skin and threw aside in the hallway. His hair dripped ice onto his back.

Reishin waded into the bath and sat down on the lowest step, so the hot water lapped at his shoulders and carried tendrils of his hair outward in spirals and tangles, like a messy ink painting. Shouka's tea had warmed him from the inside; Shuurei's could have, if only she hadn't been right there, waiting for Reishin to drop it and burn himself, or choke on it as people were wont to do with his brother's tea. It wasn't fair! He'd picked a fine time to start doing his work and staying at the office with the rest of his subordinates - as if he had a choice. Their output would be watched; that was the nature of an audit. If Kouyuu were to be seen overstepping his authority, it was not Reishin's career that would suffer - or, rather, he didn't care for the job to begin with; his son, however, would lose everything.

He couldn't allow that. Not for his own foolishness. Then Shouka had Reishin visit him for a cup of tea, insisted he drink, made no attempt to hide that he'd added a sleeping aid- and now it was Reishin's fault for being stupid enough to listen to his brother, to take the medicine.

And he left Shuurei without a proper good-bye.

Reishin sneezed, submerged himself, pushed dripping reams of hair from his face when he came back up. Nothing was warm enough to loosen that knot in his chest.

The chill Reishin took home became a cold overnight, and he woke wondering if a rat had crawled into his mouth and scratched his throat to bloody ribbons. Water didn't help, and tea was scarcely better; he passed that day and most of the next in bed beneath five layers of blankets, with the windows closed and curtains drawn over them to block both chill and light. When he finally drew them aside to look out at the sunset two evenings later, the sky had cleared to a hazy blue and the week's rain had soaked into the ground to nourish his gardens. The pond beside his pavilion reflected the clash of violet and yellow as dusk drew closer. He responded with an absent enter when he heard a knock at the door, and flipped the window latch to air the room out.

Behind, the door opened and closed softly, and a tread he knew advanced into the bedroom. "I'd say you're a failure as an uncle," Houju said, the sound of his voice sharpening; he must have removed his mask. "But attempting reason around you is like trying to introduce logic to a wall." It clattered onto the table. "Today Kou Shuurei was worried enough to neglect her job and ask questions about your welfare. Congratulations."

"I don't need your opinion on the matter," Reishin said. The air was cold and slightly painful to breathe in, but breathing at all was an improvement on his previous condition. "My agents reported as much this morning."

"And you told them to misdirect her." Houju joined him at the window and curled his hands around the frame. They were long and pale, but not as beautiful as the sun lighting his face. "Luckily, I was there to intercept them."

Reishin jerked a step away, snapping to face him. The window rattled and swung farther open, banging against the wall. "You- if you-"

Houju's brown eyes slid to meet his gaze, though his profile remained still. "If I- told her you're an idiot, then what?" A breeze stirred his dark hair, cooled Reishin's face. Indigo highlights traced it down over Houju's back - silky to the touch, heavy, always cool. If only he'd had the face of a demon in truth. "I said you'd live and told her to get back to work."

Reishin frowned, and wondered if his face had turned red - if the color could be blamed on the sunset, which tinted Houju's lips, cheeks, and shimmered on his yellow silk robe, warm colors for a cool spring night. Someone came in with a tray of jasmine tea and excused themselves; outside, the hydrangea stalks waved and branches creaked in another breath of wind. He covered his mouth with a sleeve. "It doesn't matter. As long as my agents are doing their job-"

"They aren't. She asked me if I knew Lord Kou Reishin-" Houju's tone made his teeth grind- "and asked me to convey her sympathy and deliver that tea."

He followed Houju's gesture and shuffled to the table. Small, moist towels were rolled up beside the pot, and the tea was ginger, by the scent; lifting the top confirmed Reishin's guess. If the cold hadn't dulled his senses he'd be able to appreciate whatever additions she made, but the effort was sure to be lost on him thin time. How unfair. She finally sent him something of her own accord, not by proxy, and he could barely smell it. Pouring the tea and inhaling the steam helped, but his tongue registered no nuance. "Who told her?" He stared at his reflection in the golden tea. His hair was a mess; he'd forgotten to tie it back.

"Kouki." The window creaked when Houju closed it, and the latch snapped. "I told you she neglected-"

"I'm going to kill him."

"Not if you want to keep your job."

Reishin slammed his cup onto the table. Ginger tea sloshed onto his hand and burned. "Who needs it?"

Heh. Houju's soft laugh tingled along Reishin's spine - like nails screeching across slate. "True. You wouldn't be a shame to the entire clan if your position didn't show everyone how lazy you are."

He glared over his shoulder, pushing hair behind his ear so it wouldn't spoil the impact, but his expression appeared to have no effect on Houju aside from the quirk of his lips and the lifting of a perfect eyebrow. Reishin scowled. "I told you I don't care about that." He wiped tea from his hand, dabbed it from his ruffled sleeve, and threw the towel onto the tray as he turned away. The bed looked so inviting, suddenly - dim, warm, the curtains a deep red and the quilts in warm shades of purple. He dropped onto the mattress and hid his wince.

Houju crossed his arms. "You don't care that she's ashamed of you?"

Reishin gritted his teeth. "You are the most obnoxious, unhelpful-"

"I've told you before to just introduce yourself," Houju said, approaching the bed, his smile gone. Long hair swept over his shoulder when he tilted his head. "Even your brother says so. You're dense enough to drink a drugged cup of tea, but not to listen to his advice?"

"I can't-"

"Why?"

"She'll hate me, you fool!"

"Of course she will," Houju said, rolling his eyes. "Who wouldn't?"

Reishin grabbed the front of Houju's robe and yanked him down. "I've had enough of your insults."

"Unlike you, I actually do my job." He tried to lean back and detach Reishin's hand. "If you get me sick-"

He grabbed Houju's shoulder and pulled him down. The impact knocked the air out of his friend. "You could use a few days off."

"Reishin-"

He yanked the curtains closed. "Shut up."

Feather-brushes of hair against Reishin's face woke him, this time to a familiar room and a familiar scene: Houju, combing his long hair back with his fingers, picking the knots loose, tossing it over his shoulder. It streaked over the sheets behind him in a wide fan of blunt, perfect ends. Candles on the table shed golden light on his hair, lit the room yellow; steam rose from a bowl on the table - only one. Dumpling soup - he smelled the onions and a savory strain of pork. Reishin sat up and ran his hands back through his hair, taking less care than the Eccentric, who had somehow smoothed the creases and wrinkles from his yellow robe as he was smoothing tangles from his hair - with magic, one would think, as Reishin had rumpled it as much as possible before throwing it through the curtains and onto the floor.

It had to be the light - or the angle. Houju's eyes narrowed when he leaned forward and tugged at the silk to test his theory. "I should have your well poisoned."

"I'd like to see you try." Reishin leaned back on one arm and let his hair go. His arms hurt - and his legs, and his neck. "Did I keep you from work?"

"For once, no."

"Pity."

A chime sounded from the front of the house to signal the beginning of the hour of the dog, and he wondered if Kouyuu was still at court - if Shuurei was, making up for time lost on his account. There was no reason for her to spend so much effort on that supervisor of hers. Who cared what the man thought of her ability, of her gender- or anything else, for that matter? Even his friends had nothing good to say about him. Houju agreed on that point - but Anju is the degenerate. If you're going to throw fits whenever someone approaches your niece, you should extend yourself enough to cut the snake's tongue out.

But he didn't want to talk about court; Reishin had enough of the place while he was there. Perfumes clashed at meetings and tainted his robes with their mismatched scents, messengers piled boxes, vases, scrolls and paintings, every bribe imaginable in the corner between his desk and Kouyuu's, testament to the limited imagination of his so-called colleagues at large. They had nothing Reishin didn't already own, or have within reach of the clan's long arm. Houju muttered that he had avoidance problems and helped him dress properly so he wouldn't be a disgrace, but neglected to elaborate. It's a losing battle with someone like you, he said, searching a drawer in a chest for Reishin's comb. Yuri's name came up when Houju asked who cut Reishin's hair, why hadn't it been done recently - and Houju fell silent after that.

Yuri had been gone more than half a year, now. Her last letter to Reishin said she would be late in coming to the capitol because negotiations between the clan and the All Merchant's Guild had her traveling to every province. He'd replied to tell her Kurou should take on that responsibility, but it likely never reached her - or would not, until she'd already started. Combed and loose, Reishin's hair fell almost to his waist, proof she'd taken too long.

He sat at the table while Houju picked through his hair with a comb and pulled every tangle as hard as he could, sipping spoonfuls of lemony broth. "Why are you doing this?" Reishin's spoon clinked against his bowl when he put it down. "Sit down. I'm starting to think you're the one who's sick."

He heard Houju draw breath to answer, then a sharp rap on the door and a maid's soft excuse me when the it creaked open. The comb stopped. "You're hopeless without people to tell you what to do - or force the issue."

Reishin turned in his chair, pulled his hair free with one hand. "If you're going to pontificate on the virtues of communication," he said, reaching past his bowl for the painted mask and lifting it up between his fingers, "talk to this." He tossed it onto the table again. The clatter was deafening. "It will care more than I do."

Houju's lip quirked up, more of a curl, a sneer, than a smile, and from behind him came a familiar, feminine voice. "Have I come at a bad time after all? I'll..."

"No, he's always like this," Houju said, stepping back.

Shuurei's smile wavered. "Really?"

Reishin jumped when he saw her, undeniably present - the chair scraped, and he almost fell from his seat. Houju grabbed his shoulder and held him upright, but Reishin could not pull his eyes away from his niece. "W-what are you doing here?" She blushed when he asked, his voice was pitched too high - his eyes were pinned open, so he couldn't close them and pretend not to see her. "That is, I mean-" So it wasn't only Kouki he had to kill, but his good-for-nothing friend. How could he do this? It was bad enough his brother had been so careless, but to lead her to him deliberately-

"You looked so unwell when you left the archive that I had to ask about your health." Shuurei averted her eyes. She wore a dress he saw her wear often at home - a dusky pink robe, a yellow skirt and snowy ruffled hems - and not the costume she put on for court, which didn't suit her anyway. "I'm sorry to intrude, but when I found out you were..."

Waiting for her to say uncle was like sitting on a bed of nails. "I told you I would be fine." Reishin tried to soften his voice. She was so delicate - he couldn't risk bruising her feelings. Houju leaned over him to reach for his mask, purposely draping his sleeves in Reishin's face, and whispered if you mess this up, you'll prove me right - on the count that he was hopeless, no doubt.

Shuurei twisted her fingers together beneath her sleeves. Her entire face had turned pink. "Um... I didn't know you two were friends. It's awfully nice of you to care for my- uncle, Chamberlain."

Reishin's heart skipped a beat at the word. Why did she hesitate? Was it so terrible? Granted he'd not been on his best behavior the past few minutes, but it was all Houju's fault. All of it. And if it went badly - which it wouldn't, because Shuurei had a big heart, and she'd come all the way to his manor to check on his condition - it would mean war. We're not friends at all, he muttered at the same time Houju said not really - he bribed me, and they glared at each other.

Shuurei cleared her throat. "He didn't really, did he?"

"No!"

"I wouldn't put it past him," Houju said blandly.

Shuurei laughed, and tried to hide it by covering her mouth, and the gesture was so charming Reishin choked on his retort. He settled for grabbing the front of Houju's robe and twisting to wrinkle it as much as possible. "You aren't needed any longer, Eccentric. Why don't you get on with your life and let me speak to my niece?"

Laughter was rare from Houju, and that made his chuckle and the upturn of his lips all the more terrifying with Shuurei in the room. "How considerate. However, I offered to escort Lady Shuurei home, so I have to decline."

"You what?"

Shuurei took a deep breath and sighed heavily. "But Uncle Reishin-" she only hesitated a little that time, "-isn't it better that way? You need rest."

He stared at Houju, his mouth open to release every insult he knew- and snapped his teeth shut. She called him uncle Reishin! Heat crept into his cheeks; his robes were suddenly too warm, and he wondered of his good-for-nothing friend had dressed him that way on purpose just to watch him sweat, literally and metaphorically. He managed to stammer out an order for her to seat herself, though he forbade Houju from following, and only let go of the other man's robe when Shuurei had pulled a chair out and gathered her skirt to sit, because keeping his back to her would be rude - and Reishin would never be rude to his sweet niece again. Never!

Houju, however, was another story.

...