A/N: A new fic at last! As for my other FY fic "Ayashi Yuugi"... I'm still working on that, but I have a rough semester, so it might be a while before that's updated. I am still working on it though, so don't give up on it! (And thanks to all of your who've read and reviewed it!)
For a Moment
I awoke from a nightmare with a shout caught in my throat and tears burning my cheeks. Kicking off my blankets, I sat up, gasping in the cool morning air. Now that I was awake, I could barely remember the dream, only a heart wrenching sadness and a fall of violet hair. It was enough to have me shaking, however, and I stumbled out of bed to escape its memory though it was only a little past four in the morning.
Only once I'd stood under a hot shower for almost ten minutes did the effects of the dream begin to fade. The shower also served to wake me up; I hadn't planned on getting up quite this early, but I had a lot of packing to do today. I hoped to be completely moved into my new apartment by the end of the week, and I'd only packed about half of my belongings.
Wrapping my long hair in a towel, I dressed quickly, shivering in the cold. Winter had come hard and fast this year, catching everyone off guard; I'd packed my winter clothes first, thinking that the nice weather would last at least until I'd moved in. Unwilling to search through the boxes for a few sweaters, I turned up the heat and suffered through the chill.
This is the third night in a row, I thought, examining the circles under my eyes in the mirror. Why do I keep having these dreams? I guessed it was just stress twisting my thoughts into these strange scenes, images of monks, princes, warriors. I could never remember the whole dream on waking, though the feeling was always the same; they felt like memories, oddly, parts of my life that I'd long ago forgotten, all tangled in a pulsing, blood red crimson. And one figure was always the same, though the dream always ended just as she turned to face me. Long violet hair, the scent of flowers, and high, carefree laughter. Her name, always on the tip of my tongue, but lost among thoughts of waking.
I shrugged off the unease that always came with the dreams and forced myself to focus on the task at hand. I still had a lot to pack, and today was my only day off work in which to do it. Even if I didn't finish packing today, I hoped to at least move everything I hadpacked into the new apartment. My coworker had offered to help move my furniture one night after work, and I wanted to have everything else out before then.
Two hours later I had the rest of the living room packed; another two hours and I had everything from my bedroom packed except what I needed for the next few days. Pleased with my progress, I decided to take a break from packing and make my first trip to the new apartment. I crammed as many boxes as I could into my small car and headed across town.
It took half a dozen trips to get all the boxes into the apartment – my fiancé was at work, as were all of my coworkers – and by the last trip I was sweating despite the chill in the air. Balancing the last box in one arm, I tugged open the door to the building and hurried over to the elevator. It was empty and waiting for me; I punched the button for the fifth floor and stumbled inside, setting the box on the floor just as it was about to fall.
"Wait!"
I looked up just as the doors were closing to see a young, long-haired man running towards them and quickly hit the button to keep them open.
"Thanks," he breathed as I straightened. He reached to hit the button for his floor, then froze as he looked over at me. I heard his sharp intake of breath, saw his hand stop just above the panel. After an awkward moment of silence, he shook his head and smiled sheepishly. "Ah, don't mind me, I'm not all here today." He pressed the button for the fourth floor, then held out his hand to me – a hand I noticed was now trembling. "I'm Ryuen. I take it you're moving in?"
"Yes," I said, shaking his proffered hand. "My name is Saihitei."
Something flashed through his surprisingly violet eyes at my words, an emotion I couldn't place. Then he smiled, an easy yet breathtaking smile, and leaned back against the wall. "Well, if you ever need help moving, I'd be glad to. I live in number forty-one."
"I'll keep that in mind, thank you."
A chime sounded as the number on the overhead display changed to four, and the elevator came to a slow, shaky stop. "Well, this is me," he said, sounding almost disappointed. "It was nice to meet you." His grin softened into something else, something I would have called tender had I known better. "Saihitei."
I nodded, unable to draw my gaze from his startling eyes. "Yes," I murmured dumbly. He finally turned and slipped out of the elevator just as the doors were beginning to close again. I watched him go, watched his long indigo hair sway in its loose ponytail. For some reason the figure from my dreams danced over his, obscuring his slim frame with silken robes and long, flowing hair.
I shook my head as the doors closed. These dreams are getting to me, now I'm having them while I'm awake. Yet Ryuen's rose-colored eyes followed me the rest of the day, and in my dreams that night, the laughing, silk-clad figure's face was his.
-----
I saw Ryuen quite a lot over the next week. He seemed to know each time I made a trip to the apartment, for almost every time he was there to hold the door or offer his help. Strangely, I looked forward to seeing him, and the days I didn't seemed oddly… disappointing.
Once I actually moved in, I saw even less of Ryuen, for I left early in the morning for work and came back quite late, either staying at work or spending a few hours with my fiancé before coming home. She had planned to move into the new apartment with me but still had another month and a half on her lease. And so for the next few weeks I had the apartment to myself – and my dreams.
The dreams came almost every night now, and Ryuen was in almost all of them. Not Ryuen, I told myself. A woman who looks like Ryuen. My subconscious needed a face, and it chose his, nothing more. And yet, I couldn't help but think about the man; I saw him several times a week, and dreamt of him even more frequently. He often invited me out when he went to meet his friends at night, but I declined each time, begging some excuse. In truth, I didn't trust myself around him, for his presence was… intoxicating, in a way, far more than any liquor. There was something hidden to him, some secret I wanted desperately to uncover, one I would lose myself in trying to break.
So I avoided yet secretly enjoyed being around him; not only was I drawn to his mystery, but also to his endless cheerfulness. He never failed to lighten my mood when I came home from a long day at the office or a rare fight with my fiancé, and it was those times I enjoyed most, when I could forget the day's stress and simply enjoy his smile.
It was that smile that greeted me as I entered the apartment building after a long day of meetings, presentations, and plans. He was holding the elevator door for someone, bundled in a heavy pea coat, his long hair pulled back in a messy braid. I smiled as he met my gaze, feeling the tension slowly drain from my shoulders.
"Sai," he said in greeting as I walked over. "Long day? You look like you could use a strong drink." He winked playfully, tucking his scarf into his coat.
"Maybe," I chuckled. "Where are you headed?"
"Down to the store," he said, his voice muffled by the scarf he was unsuccessfully trying to stuff down his coat. "I forgot to grab dinner on my way home." He looked out the window and frowned. "Of course, now it's dark and cold and I'm going to freeze on the way there, then refreeze on the way back."
I laughed again at the pout on his face. "Let me give you a ride. It is getting cold outside."
"Nah," he said, smiling his light, effortless smile again. "I'll be ok."
"It's too cold to walk," I said, taking his arm. We both started at the contact, even through the many layers of cloth, our gazes locking. I couldn't move for a moment, couldn't think, and all the sudden that name was on my lips, the name from my dreams, and Ryuen had been replaced by the robed woman.
"Alright," he whispered finally, shattering the illusion and sending reality crashing back down around us. He smiled again, his eyes glittering with emotions, and I could only smile in return and lead him out of the apartment building.
"Thank you," he said once we were outside, as if the cold had shocked him back to himself. He shivered, drawing a pair of gloves from his coat. He saw my amused glance and stuck his tongue out. "What? I don't like the cold."
Laughing, I turned down the sidewalk toward my car. I'd had to park halfway down the street today, though I didn't mind it as much now as I did when I'd come home. We were halfway down the block when Ryuen stopped, his hand closing almost painfully on my arm.
"What's wrong?" I asked worriedly. But Ryuen was staring straight ahead, his eyes darkened with fear as he kept his vice-like grip on my arm. I repeated his name, then followed his gaze ahead. All I saw was an older couple walking a little ahead of us, and past them a man walking his dog, a gray-haired husky.
Ryuen shuddered, dropping his hand from my arm and hurrying toward my car. I followed silently, sliding into the driver's side as Ryuen sat shaking in the passenger seat. He looked out the window as the man with the husky walked by. He looked away quickly, his wide eyes meeting mine. "I don't like dogs," he whispered. "Especially ones that look like… that."
Starting the car, I laid my hand reassuringly on his arm. He smiled in return, but it didn't reach his eyes, and we made the rest of the trip in silence. Still, I couldn't help but feel content sitting beside him, as if I'd known him forever. His fear of dogs stirred something within me, a memory of a dream I'd never had, a feeling of déjà vu that I couldn't quite understand. I pushed it and the image of the dream woman aside, determined to simply enjoy Ryuen's presence without my subconscious interfering. I didn't understand my infatuation with him, but tonight, I didn't care.
And when he thanked me with a quiet smile and a hand on my arm, I could only nod in return, every other thought forgotten, washed away by those sparkling rose eyes.
-----
This was a brilliant idea, Saihitei. Go for a walk in near freezing temperatures.
I stuffed my hands deeper in my pockets as I turned the corner onto my street. I'd simply been unable to sit still, my mind winding in patterns I couldn't – and wouldn't – follow. So I'd taken to the streets, wandering for nearly an hour until I was chilled enough to head towards home.
Guilt had plagued me all day, guilt and the dreams. I found myself thinking of the dream woman – and consequently Ryuen – far too often when I should be thinking of my fiancé. Unfaithful, part of me whispered each time I passed my fiancé's picture.You think of dreams, of him, instead of her you claim to have given your heart to. I shook my head and quickened my pace, resolved to call my fiancé when I got back to my apartment, just to ease my conscience.
My name stopped me in midstep, its hurried, breathless sound tangling with the noisy city breeze. A hand brushed mine, lightly, yet the touch was familiar – how can a touch be familiar? – and brought with it a memory of trees, of willows swaying among rows of blossoms in a grand garden, of silken robes and the clink of bracelets. Funny, that those are the things I remember… I turned, the name caught in my throat and the hazy memory of a figure in my mind.
I met Ryuen's startled violet eyes, and saw red. Not the red of anger, simply red.Blood red, burning red, like the fire that pulsed through my veins. The red of desire, of love, of eternity. The hazy figure swam through my vision, flickering over Ryuen's face. They were similar at times, almost identical, yet different in a way I couldn't describe. I blinked it away as I struggled to find the sounds of the name that was caught in my throat, but all that came out was a startled, "Oh." Then it all faded into the twilight, and I was left with nothing but Ryuen's wide eyes and a dull throbbing on my neck.
"For a moment," I breathed, "I thought it was someone else." I felt empty now that I was facing only reality once more, as if that burning crimson had filled a gap in my soul I didn't know was there. Yet I couldn't tear my eyes away from Ryuen's, for they were darkened with the same emptiness.
"For a moment," he murmured, "it… almost was." He rubbed at a spot on his chest, just over his heart, then shook his head. When he met my gaze again, his eyes were lighter, filled with their usual unwavering mirth. "Actually, there is someone else." He turned, a frown creasing his features as he searched for someone along the street. "Miaka!" At his shout, a girl turned from the shop window she'd been peering through and hurried toward us.
"There you are!" she cried, winded, as she braced her hands on her knees. "You took off and I couldn't find you!" After she caught her breath, she straightened, and her large brown eyes came to rest on me. "Hotohori!"
Ryuen shook his head as she bounded toward me, a flash of unspoken warning in his rose-colored eyes. "Miaka, this is Saihitei. He just moved into my apartment building."
"Oh." Her gaze darted between the two of us, uncertain, until she finally sighed and forced a smile, though it couldn't mask the disappointment in her eyes. "I'm sorry, you look like someone I used to know."
"It's alright," I replied, holding out my hand. "It's nice to meet you, Miaka." The name sounded vaguely familiar, though it wasn't the one that had fought to break free of the crimson inside me. I wasn't sure what had passed between her and Ryuen, though, and some part of me didn't want to know. There was something shadowed in their eyes, a shared secret that came with a heavy price.
"Great," Ryuen beamed, slipping his arm through Miaka's and breaking the tension with a smile. "Now that we all know each other," he winked, "why don't we get some coffee? I know a great little café that's just down the street."
Miaka shook her head, patting his arm. "I can't, I have to get home. You two go and enjoy though." She slipped her arm out of Ryuen's and kissed his cheek. "I'll talk to you later, Ryu." She gave me a small wave. "It was nice to meet you, Saihitei."
I smiled and murmured a reply past the knot of jealousy tightening my chest. Who was she to Ryuen, that she could share kisses and pet names? And yet who was I, to be jealous of her, even if she was more than just a friend? I didn't have any romantic intentions toward him – I was engaged, and quite happy with that. So why did the thought of Ryuen having another send a shock of pain through my heart?
He turned those warm violet eyes back to me, and I knew the answer. I've never seen eyes like those, and yet I feel like I've known them for eternity. I was so lost in those eyes that I barely heard Ryuen's question, and I had to forcibly shake myself free to answer.
"Would you want to grab some coffee on the way home?" Ryuen asked. He rubbed his hands together and blew on them. "It's freezing out here! I need something to keep my fingers from turning to icicles."
"Sure," I replied absently. I didn't like coffee, but something about Ryuen's presence was addicting, and I wasn't ready to leave it just yet. I fell into step beside him, shivers running down my spine that had nothing to do with the winter. "Is she your girlfriend?" I found myself asking, then cringed inwardly as soon as the words had left my mouth. Why do I care? I'm engaged, content. His relationships are none of my business.
Ryuen laughed, shaking his head. "Miaka? No, no, Miaka is actually engaged, and not to me. She's my oldest and closest friend, more like a sister than anything." He chuckled. "She tries to set me up with one of her friends every other week, though it never works. I love her to death, but she has some odd friends."
"Oh." I chastised myself for the relief that washed through me at his words, yet couldn't manage to be angry. We fell into an easy silence as we walked, and came to the coffee shop in a few minutes. Ryuen ordered some sort of caramel espresso drink whose name I couldn't remember – all I remembered was that it smelled like him, and so I ordered the same though I didn't even drink coffee.
We lapsed back into that comfortable silence after we left the café, Ryuen sipping his coffee as I watched him from the corner of my eye. "What about you?" he asked suddenly, breaking the quiet that had fallen with the twilight. "What is your girlfriend like?"
I blinked at the question, both surprised and slightly guilty. I'd wanted the reassurance that Ryuen wasn't in a relationship though I was in one myself, one I planned to cement with marriage. Yet I couldn't deny my attraction to the violet-haired man. "How did you know I had a girlfriend?" I asked to cover my dismay.
Ryuen shrugged, his gaze fixed firmly ahead, though I saw a frown tugging at his lips. "I just assumed it." He turned, giving me a wry smirk that didn't reach his eyes. "It would be such a waste ifsomeonedidn't claim you."
I gave him a shocked look, raising my eyebrows in confusion. He laughed – again, almost sadly – and put his hand on my arm. "I'm only teasing, Saihitei," he said, yet the look in his eyes belied his words. That look, combined with his hand on my arm, sent a hot shiver down my spine and quickened my heartbeat until I could barely draw a breath.
"We're engaged," I said quickly, to myself as much as to Ryuen. The words seemed to build a barricade between us; he lowered his hand, his eyes guarded, and I could breathe once more.
It was his turn to let out a heavy, "Oh." He took a sip of his coffee, his knuckles white around the paper cup. "What's her name?" he asked quietly, his voice hollow despite its forced cheeriness.
"Houki," I replied, her name adding another stone to the wall between us. It seemed to hit Ryuen with an almost physical force, for he flinched and turned startled rose eyes to me. He looked away quickly, but for that one moment his gaze was open, his eyes burning with a heartbreaking sadness, a lifetime of sadness that seemed too heavy for his slight frame to bear. I wanted desperately to ease that sorrow somehow, but Houki's name hung between us still, holding me back.
But that sorrow disappeared as quick as a stain of breath on glass, and his eyes were clear once more as his ever-present smile returned, hiding all but the death-grip he held on the flimsy cardboard cup. "Congratulations, then," he said. "I'm invited to the wedding, right?" He nudged me good-naturedly, grinning, his earlier sorrow so completely replaced that I wasn't sure I hadn't imagined it. I murmured something in assent, my mind still stuck on his grief-stricken glance and my impending marriage. I forced the thought away; I didn't want to think about that here, with Ryuen.
He stopped suddenly, and I realized with a start that we had reached our apartment building. After recovering my composure, I opened the door and held it open behind me, but he shook his head. "I have a few things I have to pick up at the store," he said. "But tomorrow some friends and I are going out for a few drinks. You're welcome to join, if you want."
Again, my mouth betrayed me, blurting out an answer before I had time to think. "Sure." I silently berated myself – I didn't even drink except on special occasions – but I couldn't find the energy to regret it, for Ryuen brightened at that single word. I couldn't help but return his smile.
"Great! We're meeting at the Four Corners Tavern at eight. Do you know where that is?"
My mouth was still working of its own accord. "I believe so. I have to stay late at my office tomorrow, so I'll just meet you there." Inwardly, I sighed. There was no use resisting it now; it seemed I was going drinking with Ryuen whether I wanted to or not.
Ryuen grinned again. "Great," he repeated. "It will be fun, I promise!" His smile softened into something deeper, filled with wistful longing. I saw in it a flash of red, of silk, of trees. "Goodnight, Saihitei."
"Goodnight," I murmured. I stood at the door long after he'd gone, watching as he faded into the night, his long braid swinging almost mesmeringly behind him. Only when I could no longer see him did I make my way up to my apartment, and sat up thinking about him long into the night.
Where did this attraction come from? I hardly know the man, yet some part of me feels as if I've know him all my life. Longer than that. As if… as if it's second nature for me to love him.
I shook my head at this, almost jumping off the couch and pacing the room. This is absurd. I'm seeing things, feeling things, acting like he has some sort of spell over me. He's just a man. I stopped in front of the mantle, gazing almost shamefully at the pictures of Houki and me. I feel like I'm betraying her – I ambetraying her. She deserves more from me.
How alike they were, I realized, almost mirror images of one another. Houki's hair was lighter, her eyes darker and less vibrant; yet Ryuen's features were so feminine that they almost looked like twins. It was easy to transfer affection from one to the other, I told myself, because they looked so alike.
"I love her," I said aloud, trying to convince myself of the fact. I didlove her, but it was a different kind of feeling than what I felt toward Ryuen. It was almost as if what I felt for Houki was a shadow, a piece of something greater; it was more friendship than desire. Had it always been that way? I couldn't decide, and yet some part of me knew the answer was yes.
It was then that I realized I'd completely forgotten my resolution to call her.
-----
The blue neon of the Four Corner's sign flickered lazily at me for what seemed like forever before I managed to convince myself to get out of the car. It had taken three ignored phone calls from Houki and almost half an hour to convince myself to even come. I still didn't know what I was doing here, with him,when I should have been with her.
That thought disappeared as I walked in to the sound of Ryuen's laughter ringing out above the din of the crowd. A smile tugged at my lips as I followed it to a corner booth where Ryuen sat with a red-haired man, both laughing good-naturedly. He turned his smile to me as I approached, and it seemed to brighten a little as he did.
"Saihitei," he said warmly. "I was wondering if you were still coming."
"Things ran late at the office," I murmured.
He slid over, making room for me on the bench next to him. "Come, sit down. Saihitei, this is Genrou, one of my oldest friends."
"'Ey, I ain't old!" the other man cried, glowering as he banged his mug on the table. "I'm only a couple years older 'an you!" Ryuen ignored him, which only made him more angry, though Ryuen silenced his protests with a laugh and a wave.
"What are you having to drink?" Ryuen asked as Genrou gulped down the remainder of his own.
Shrugging off my coat, I looked around at the small crowd, glancing over faces and drinks. "I… haven't decided yet. I'll decide when I get up there." I didn't relish the idea of wading through the crowd surrounding the bar, but I hoped a drink would settle my nerves – and give me the composure not to embarrass myself in front of Ryuen. I didn't trust myself around him; my mouth spoke words I didn't want it to say, my eyes betrayed the feelings I didn't want to reveal. With any luck, one drink would be enough to steel my nerves against Ryuen's presence – which was so much more intoxicating than any drug.
After several minutes of being jostled and jabbed, I managed to catch the bartender's attention, ordered a black and tan, and quickly made my way back to Ryuen's corner booth. Genrou's voice stopped me just short of the booth, his loud voice rising above the loud murmur of the bar. "So does he remember?"
Ryuen's reply was quiet, and I had to strain to hear it. "No. He doesn't." Sadness weighed his words down, evident even among all the noise. I stepped closer, still out of sight of the two, feeling a stab of guilt at eavesdropping. I wanted to know who they were talking about, and I had a feeling the conversation would end when I returned.
Something banged on the table – Genrou's glass, I guessed. "Then fuckin' remind him!" he shouted.
"Keep your voice down," Ryuen hissed. There was a long pause, and then he sighed. "I can't make him remember if he doesn't want to. He's happy now. They're getting married." His voice broke on the last word, and I nearly dropped my drink as I started in shock. He's… talking about me. I moved forward, too unnerved to be able to listen to this conversation anymore, and walked around the booth just as Genrou started to protest.
"But ya still love him!"
Both men turned wide eyes to me, and Ryuen let out a startled gasp. "Hotohori," he whispered as Genrou cursed.
"Fuckin' hell." An apology written in his eyes, Genrou scrambled out of his seat. "I think I'd better get goin'… I'll talk to ya later, Ryu."
I slid into the other man's seat, unable to tear my gaze from Ryuen's. "You were talking about me, weren't you?" I asked hoarsely. He dropped his eyes to his now empty drink, his hands wrapped tightly around it. When he didn't answer, I leaned forward, forcing him to look back up at me. "What don't I remember?"
"It's nothing," Ryuen whispered, covering his face with his hands. "Forget it."
"Apparently I already have," I murmured. I took a long drink from my glass, grimacing at the bitter taste and yet welcoming the numbness it brought. "What did you call me, before?"
His eyes still closed, he took a deep breath, murmuring "Hotohori" as he exhaled.
"The girl called me that, too. Miaka."
"Yes."
I took another drink, dropping my mug heavily on the table. The noise startled him, for Ryuen dropped his hands, looking at me with unadulterated misery. "What is it that you all know that I don't?"
He raised a shaking hand to lift his glass, realized it was empty, then slid it aside and sat back. "Would you believe me if I told you you'd forgotten an entire lifetime?" he asked quietly. I raised my eyebrows, uncertain, and Ryuen shook his head sadly. "Never mind." He snatched his coat and rose to leave, but I reached across the table and grabbed his arm. He looked down at me, tears glittering in his violet eyes, but did not sit back down.
"Tell me," I begged, tightening my grip on his arm. "Please."
It was a long while before he spoke. "We lived a legend together, once upon a time. You, me, Miaka, Genrou, and others. We lived together, fought together, laughed and cried together. We… we loved, and we died…" He trailed off, and a single tear made its way down his cheek. It seemed to bring him back from the dream he'd fallen into, and he brushed it away angrily, then wrenched his arm from my grip. "I have to go," he choked, then turned and hurried out the door.
I sat staring after him for a long time, and stayed at the bar even longer. I don't remember walking home that night, nor how many drinks I ordered before I finally made my way out into the cold. Somehow I made it home and into my bed, and the only thing I remember were my dreams. They were of Ryuen, and yet they weren't. I dreamt of a palace, of courtesans and kings, of rose colored eyes and hair the color of amethysts. Behind it all was that same burning red, tainted by love and loss and yet blazing on into forever.
-----
Sunlight woke me the next morning, burning my bleary eyes and sending stabs of pain into my already throbbing head. With a groan I opened my eyes and sat up, and I realized blearily that I was in my own bedroom. I half expected to be surrounded by silk curtains, the smell of incense wafting through the air and servants waiting expectantly to attend me. The name lingered on my lips again, the name that belonged to the ghost that looked like Ryuen, the name I could never quite remember.
Shaking off my dreams, I lurched to my feet and made my way into the bathroom, fumbling through the medicine cabinet for a bottle of aspirin. I blamed my strange dreams on the alcohol – I'd never been quite so inebriated before – and prayed that a cold shower and some coffee would be enough to clear my head of its effects.
The thought of coffee led to the memory of Ryuen, of the sadness in his eyes when he'd heard Houki's name. As if he'd heard it before, just as he'd seemed to know me that day in the elevator. Suddenly I wanted nothing more than to see him, to solve the mystery that his presence had brought into my life. I needed to hear the story that he'd been unable to tell last night, for I suspected my dreams had been scenes, clues from it. "We lived a legend together, once upon a time…" The violet haired one with the elusive name could only be Ryuen's character in that legend, though it was dressed as a woman. And I… I was Hotohori, the name Ryuen's friend had called me, the name he whispered after Genrou's outburst.
I wanted desperately to know who Hotohori was – who Iwas, for I no longer knew. And I wanted to know who Ryuen was, that he meant so much to me once upon a time.
I hurried through my shower and threw on the first clothes I pulled from my closet, leaving my long hair loose as I rushed out of my apartment. Which number did he say? 41? 42? I knew Ryuen lived on the floor below me, though I couldn't remember which apartment, and the alcohol-induced headache pulsing through my thoughts didn't make it easier to remember.
The elevator was on the twelfth floor and moving slowly, and so I hurried down the stairs, though my pounding head protested each step. I walked down the long hallway, glancing at each door, wondering which one was Ryuen's. What am I even going to say to him? I've been dreaming about you instead of my fiancé and I want to know why? I don't even know where he lives.
I'd reached the end of the hallway. Trying my luck, I knocked on the first door, praying it was Ryuen's. I waited a few moments, knocked again, and moved to try the next door when no one answered. Before I could knock, however, the first door opened behind me.
"Saihitei."
Ryuen's voice was tired, guarded, and I turned to see that his eyes showed the same emotions. He regarded me in silence, didn't move as I took a step toward him. "I couldn't remember which one was your apartment," I murmured unthinkingly. The sight of him brought my dreams rushing back, and the image of the silk-clad courtesan overlapped his figure, flowing robes replacing the blanket he had wrapped around his shoulders. My neck burned almost painfully at the sight, and I rubbed at it as I stood before Ryuen's uncertain gaze.
Finally, he stepped aside and motioned me in. "Come in, I'll make some coffee. You look like you need it." He watched me uncertainly as I walked past him, shivered when my arm brushed his hand where it gripped the blanket. I heard the door close behind me, then his quiet footsteps as he followed me into the kitchen.
His apartment was smaller than mine, but it was homier, warmer, and it smelled of fresh air and spice. The kitchen was tiny but comfortable, and I watched Ryuen move through the sunbeams as he busied himself with the coffee. He kept his back to me, the blanket discarded on a chair, the tension in his shoulders evident beneath his light shirt. I tried to find a way out of the silence, but I was lost in it completely, caught by the twists and turns of the story that was trying to make itself remembered.
Still silent, Ryuen placed a steaming mug in front of me, settling across from me with his own cupped in his hands. He stared at the dark liquid for a long while before speaking. "I'm sorry about last night," he said, lifting his weary, shadowed eyes to mine. "Just – just forget what I said."
I took a sip of my coffee, and was rewarded with a slight lessening of the throbbing behind my eyes. "About the legend?"
Ryuen frowned, swallowing down whatever emotion tried to pass his barricade. "Yes."
I shook my head. "I want to know the whole story. I've had dreams about it, about you. There's a name I can't remember. Your name."
A flicker of sadness entered his eyes, but he buried it quickly, too quickly, and murmured, "Nuriko."
With that word came a flood of images, sounds, feelings. Lovely Nuriko, graceful as the willow tree that burned above his heart. The strongest of us all, his delicate beauty belied by his power. Nuriko, who loved with all his heart, with all his soul, with no reservations and no expectations of ever being loved in return. Cheerful, sorrowful Nuriko. The one I could never have…
"Tell me the legend," I pleaded. "I need to know who I am, who I was. Who it was you loved."
"You wanted to forget it enough to come this far without it," he said wearily, almost regretfully. "I won't be the one to remind you, if you want to leave it behind that much."
"I want to remember," I said hoarsely. "I remember bits and pieces, images, feelings, but I can't piece them together. I need your help for that." I leaned forward, searching his features, willing him to break the cautious façade he'd hidden behind. "Please, Ryuen. I want to remember you."
He studied me skeptically for a long while, his face impassive yet his eyes stormy with emotions. I sat in silence, holding onto the memory of Nuriko that had surfaced with his name, praying that Ryuen would give me more.
After what felt like an eternity, Ryuen sighed, his wariness draining out of him with his breath. He looked at me with all the raw emotion of a child, his eyes wide and unguarded. I saw the same age-old sadness in them that Ryuen seemed to carry as his cross, but there was warmth in them too, Nuriko's warmth, as well as Nuriko's endless love. "The Universe of the Four Gods," he said quietly, "is a never-ending legend, a tale of life and death, of the greatest love and the deepest sorrow. It's full of heartbreaks, and yet it is built on hope, and hope is its greatest gift to those who live its story…"
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"I still hate the snow," he whispered. "And wolves."
Two hours and an entire lifetime later, he ended his story, leaving me with a last, stricken look before I closed my eyes against the two figures I saw before me.
I sat in silence, each moment a new revelation as memories surfaced like shells washed up by the waves. I felt like my mind was about to burst apart as my two selves fought to reconcile with each other. I was still me, and yet I was Hotohori as well, emperor, Suzaku shichiseishi, warrior. My two halves fought for supremacy, unable to reconcile with the other, unable to settle into a peaceful truce long enough for me to think. They did have one thing in common though: both were in love with Nuriko.
I clung to that love as my lifeline, using it to bind my two selves together. Shaking myself back to the present, I forced the conflict down and looked over at Ryuen – Nuriko,Hotohori murmured – as he sat clutching his untouched coffee. Tears stained his cheeks, tears I had watched fall but was unable to wipe away as I sat weighed down by the memories his words unlocked.
"I cried for hours the day you died," I murmured, unable to look away from his face.
He jerked his gaze up from his coffee, shock written over his delicate features. "What?"
I turned to look out the window, a shiver of remembered sorrow running through me. "I felt it – we all did." I took a breath, feeling tears burn my throat as the memory of that day played through my mind. "I was in an audience with several of my nobles, and I just walked out. Stumbled out. I couldn't stop the tears." My voice broke, and I paused for a moment, struggling to swallow the tears that blocked my words. "I somehow found my way to the willow tree in the gardens and just collapsed. I sat there for hours. I couldn't believe it, couldn't imagine that you wouldn't be returning with them."
I dared a glance at Ryuen. He sat staring at me in disbelief, his lips slightly parted, lips I'd longed to kiss for so long… I looked away before I lost my composure completely.
"Houki found me there. At first, I though she was you. She looks just like you... I clung to her, wanting to believe she was you, and she allowed it. She never corrected me when I called her Nuriko. Not even after we were married." I smiled ruefully at the windowpane. "That's why I married her," I said quietly. "Because she looked like you. She was the Nuriko I could never have as emperor, the Nuriko who could give the country an heir." I thought of Houki now, of how I'd fought to hold onto the feelings I thought I had for her once I'd met Ryuen. "It wasn't the same though," I whispered, forcing the words through the regret that blocked my throat. "I don't think I ever stopped grieving. Even now…" I turned back to Ryuen, met his wide, tear-filled eyes. "I never stopped loving you, and when I found Houki again, some part of me remembered you…"
"Hotohori," Ryuen whispered, hesitantly bridging the space between us to touch my hand.
"Houki," I said, putting her name between us once more, just as it had done the first time. The sadness returned to Ryuen's eyes, and he withdrew his hand. "She doesn't remember, does she?" He shook his head. Guilt weighed heavy on my heart, but it couldn't quell the hope that Ryuen had brought. "I'll have to tell her, then."
"The legend?"
"No. Let her forget that," I said, then sighed. "Forget me." I smiled, letting Ryuen see all of my hopes for the future and praying that he would forgive me for the past. "I have to tell her that our engagement is over."
Ryuen studied me tentatively, uncertainty making him cautious, yet when I reached across the table to cover his hand with my own, tears filled his eyes once more. "Is this really happening?" he whispered.
"Ryuen," I said, drawing his violet eyes to mine. "I'm sorry. I should have told you. You deserved so much more than I gave you…"
He shook his head, a smile slowly breaking out on his face. "No. There's no need to apologize. That was the past." He studied me again, still smiling, until he laughed and reached out to grasp my hand with both of his. "All those years I lived in the palace, I never dared to hope you would even notice me. To think, all that time…" He laughed again, wiping the tears from his eyes. "I wish I'd found you sooner," he murmured.
I reached up to sweep a stray lock of hair from his face, traced the line of his cheek with my fingertips. Gods, I've longed for this moment for so long. I brushed his lips with my fingertips and closed my eyes. "So do I," I whispered. "So do I."
-x-x-x-
A/N: I got the idea for this story from the line "For a moment I thought it was someone else." "For a moment... it almost was." Kudos to anyone who knows where that's from (and doesn't just Google it). Hint: it's a musical.