It's raining. He knows it's raining without opening his eyes or listening, because he's having the nightmare again. He's grasping at his best friend's hands, and making a million and one promises that he can't keep. No matter how much he wants to.
Houjun, help me, please!
I won't let go this time, he says. No matter what, this time I won't let go. But then he wakes up in a cold sweat and he knows two things. It's raining, and he let go again. That's the irony of the whole thing. He can't let go, because he couldn't hold on.
***
She knows it's raining right away. She has her eyes closed, but she can smell the damp air and hear the soft rain massaging the roof. The rain reminds her of the lovely silver tones of home. Too late, she remembers the one reason that she can't truly give herself back to sleep.
Chichiri wakes up screaming beside her.
***
He sits hunched over and panting with the sheets bunched up in his hands. He's forgotten that she's there until he feels a cool hand on his shoulder. She rests her forehead on his arm. He takes some more deep breaths, places his hand over hers. You never ask, he says. Even though the the others know, you never ask.
She shakes her head, curls tickling his arm. It's not my place she answers. They're your brothers she says, and I'm just your concubine. It takes him a moment to realise that she's kidding. His attempt at a smile becomes more of a wince. He asks her what she knows about the floods in Konan, years ago.
You don't have to tell me this story, you know. He recognises his own words from all those years ago. He reaches for her tattooed back at the memory.
I want to, he replies- just like she had. Then he tells her the story about his betrothed and his best friend, and how the floods had made up their minds for them.
***
He'd told Miaka part of the story, once. You didn't do anything wrong, he told her, when she told him about Yui's love for Tamahome. He told her about hard choices and loss. There's nothing you can do about that, you know. I had to learn that the hard way too. That's how I got this scar. He told her that Hikou was dead by his hands.
She looked at him after, innocent and unsure. I'm not sure I understood everything you said, she smiled at him a lovely smile. But I'll think about it.
***
She needs to think too. Even when Chichiri stops talking, she doesn't say anything. She does take her hand away from his shoulder, but she quickly puts her arms around his chest. There are tears dripping from his eye, and they make a faint plopping sound as they hit her bare arm. He hadn't even realised that he was crying. He decides to keep talking. Maybe the tears will vanish. The rain always does, eventually. This time, he tells her all about Hikou's ghost. The River God. His memory drifts back and suddenly he's choking on the water again, drowning and begging Tasuki to burn them to ashes.
***
She wants him to stop talking, but he can't hear her pleading with him. He's too lost in memories. She can't think of anything, so she kisses him. Please, she thinks. Please, you have to stop talking. He's gone limp in her arms. She pulls away suddenly, terrified for a second that he's under some sort of spell- that he really has drowned in Hikou this time.
***
He starts to come to his senses as soon as she kisses him. It's the shock of human contact that startles him- all he could feel before was cold water. Even Hikou's hands, just cold water. And all he can hear, cold water. He opens his eye to see Reika staring at him. There's a terror in her face. What just happened? She asks. Chichiri- oh, Genbu, she says. She's too frightened to even swear properly.
He can't answer her. It's still damn raining, and he just needs to not think anything. He doesn't entirely know why he told her, not when he knew he'd get consumed by the guilt. Drowning. Always drowning. The irony. He can't let go, because he couldn't hold on. Reika goes to speak again, and lost in thought the movement of her lips draws his attention.
He kisses her, deeply. Desperately. He wants to feel warm and nothing else, he doesn't want to hear the rain or smell anything but her perfume. He runs a hand down her bare arm, twists her fingers up with his own. She doesn't protest as they fall back in the mess of sheets. She never asks about his nightmares.
And the entire night, she never lets go of his hand.