A/N: Third NuraMago story? I don't think I've ever typed so quickly in my life. I would once again love to thank my viewers (and reviewers) for their time and support! I dedicate the title for this particular fic to irish d' salmon luver for her warm-hearted message. Thanks so much! Without further ado, enjoy this piece of fluff!
Warning: Yura's a little cranky, and as a result, she has a bit of a potty mouth. Bed-rest doesn't seem to agree with her.
Disclaimer: I do not own Nurarihyon no Mago. If I did, well…we don't need to go there.
Revised on March 23, 2013.
Midnight at the oasis
Send your camel to bed
Shadows paintin' our faces
Traces of romance in our heads
-Midnight at the Oasis, Renee Olstead
The moments I'm not around always end up being the most interesting.
He lumbers his way down the polished halls, his thoughts sluggish, his limbs heavy, his weariness hunching his shoulders like gravity. Various yōkai drunkenly stumble out of his path as he treads through their ranks, their boisterous greetings overflowing with good cheer.
At least they've allowed us to care for her in their stead. Still, there's a good chance we'll have an army of onmyōji surging the front gates by morning.
His destination finally appears before him, and Rikuo doesn't hesitate to shove the shoji aside and step into the darkened interior of the room. The only source of light is the low-lit paper lantern placed next to the futon, and its illumination on the white of the bedding adds a stark contrast to the shadows leading into the corridor.
"Rikuo?"
At the sound of his name, he pauses to see Zen making his way toward him, a small armload of clean bandages in his possession. He stops a few feet away, his gaze quizzical.
"What are you doing here? I thought you were talking with the onmyōji?"
He shrugs his tense shoulders, hoping to mask his fatigue with indifference. "There wasn't much to be said. I told them what happened, and they agreed to let us care for her until she's back on her feet."
Zen raises an eyebrow. "Really? They actually trust us with her?"
A small, cynical smirk crosses Rikuo's features. "They're trying to. They know she wouldn't take it well if they made a fuss." He lifts his own brow, jerking his head toward the open room. "Speaking of making a fuss…"
Zen sighs and scratches his scalp, face drawn in good-humored exasperation. "She's doing fine. The injuries were nothing to sneeze at, but they weren't life-threatening. The biggest challenge was getting her to stay still."
With his brother's expert diagnosis, the anxiety mounting Rikuo's shoulders dissipates, leaving him relieved and amused. A small, appreciative smile comes to his lips. "Sounds about right. Thanks, Zen."
A careless wave of the hand, and the bird yōkai steps forward to deposit the bandages into Rikuo's arms. "It was nothing. As far as I can see, we owe her."
Rikuo nods understandingly, his thoughts turning to the scene he arrived at earlier that evening. "Is she sleeping?" he asks aloud.
"She isn't anymore. Either cut the chatter or close the damned door."
Both men twist their heads around to peer into the impromptu patient ward and catch sight of the white figure sitting up in the futon, a deep scowl poised on her lips. Zen snorts at the scene and reaches over to pat his brother companionably on the shoulder.
"Good luck with that one."
Rikuo smirks as the man retreats the way he came. "Luck isn't enough." Once Zen turns the corner, he steps into the room, sliding the door closed until little more than a small beam of moonlight steals its way inside. The grumpy young woman in the borrowed yukata is still glowering at him, but the normally intimidating look is tempered by her pallid features and obvious fatigue. Rikuo hides his humor as he places the bandages on the nearby low-legged table, crosses his ankles, and seats himself an arm's length away from her resting spot.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like shit," is her immediate answer. "Your 'brother' forced me to drink this mess that's making me drowsy, and I'll be damned if I fall asleep."
Rikuo smirks. "It's supposed to do that."
"Well, I told him I didn't need it. It tasted gross, and it screws with my balance."
Rikuo can see as well as hear Yura's pout; he fails to hide his taunting grin this time. "You sure you can blame that on Zen?"
Her expression turns practically feral. "I do not need you talking out of your ass right now."
He counters easily. "And I don't need you fighting off the healing process. You're disoriented because you're not letting the medicine do its job."
The girl gives him a scathing glare, but its intensity is ruined by her lethargy and his common sense. "Well how the hell am I supposed to rest here?"
"You've stayed here before."
"Against my will."
Rikuo can't help but chuckle; his hand reaches to tenderly pat her head. "I never thought I'd see the head of the Keikain Clan acting so unprofessional. It's rather adorable."
"Bite me, asshole."
He laughs harder before his amusement subsides and he reaches for her, deciding to try a different approach. "Lie down before you get dizzy. I'll help you."
He expects her adamant refusal of his help, and raises his brows in surprise when she studies her surroundings before nodding faintly, her shoulders sinking.
"Yeah, okay."
With an approving nod, Rikuo rises to his knees and takes a hold of the soft blankets with one hand while the other rests on her shoulder as support. Carefully, Yura eases down between the sheets, her head coming to slump on the plush pillow with a gentle thump. Her eyes are already closed when he draws the sheets over her form, absentmindedly tucking the edges in to prevent warmth from escaping.
He leans back to survey his handiwork with a satisfied nod. The stress around the girl's eyes has eased, and the rise and fall of her breast has slowed somewhat. He tilts back further until his spine touches the paneled wall behind him, and he settles himself against it with a contented sigh, moving his sword next to him. He considers locating his grandfather's pipe, but knows she would immediately complain about the smoke and force him to put it out. Instead, he gazes out the small opening into the yard, where he can see the white plate of Kappa's head floating languidly in the oval pond.
"You're staying?" He starts at the sound of Yura's sleep-laden question and turns to her.
"Just for a moment."
"'m not gonna be much company."
"When are you ever?"
She snorts at his barb but doesn't retaliate, cloudy eyes disappearing under their lids, and he watches her rest before speaking again. "Yura."
"Hm."
"Thank you."
"Fer what?"
"For tonight."
Reluctantly, Yura's eyes crack open and slide in his general direction, and he knows she's struggling to decipher his words. "What about tonight?"
He sighs and rubs his neck to get out a stray kink. "For protecting my comrades. Kurotabo told me what happened before I arrived."
Her eyes narrow slightly as she attempts to focus. "Kurotabo? The monk with the weapons?"
He nods with a small smile. "He told me how you put yourself between them and took the hit."
She huffs quietly and looks up to the ceiling. "Stupid ayakashi was fighting me, but decided to go for safer competition. He grazed me and knocked me off to the side, but I was able to get him with Rentei." She captures his gaze again. "It wasn't a big deal. I just did it without thinking. Nii-chan would say I was being 'impulsive'. The jerk."
Rikuo snickers at her commentary, but his smile is warm as he pushes away from the wall and lies down a few feet from the length of the futon, using his elbow as a prop. "Just the same, your 'impulsion' saved my companions' lives, and for that I'm grateful."
A tiny smirk touches Yura's lips. "I never thought I'd see the head of the Nura Clan acting so sappy. It's rather adorable."
He rolls his eyes as she slings his own taunt back in his face. I gave that medicine too much credit. She's too damn stubborn for her own good.
"But seriously?" she begins, and he tunes back in to her words. "Don't think anything of it. The whole thing just kinda...happened. And I know you would do the same for me and my family."
He studies her relaxed face for a moment before nodding slightly. This is the same girl who despised yokai only a few years ago, and now she's willingly jeopardizing her safety to protect them. He rolls the thought over in his head before making a decision.
"Promise me something," he murmurs.
Yura raises an eyebrow, warily curious. "Depends. What is it?"
"Promise you'll call on me when you find yourself in trouble again."
To his chagrin, but not his surprise, the girl immediately shakes her head with a smile, and he studies the patterns of her hair as the strands fall against her pale cheeks. "I've trained my whole life to be able to face any opponent on my own. I'm not gonna make myself a liability just so you'll feel better." She releases a slender hand from the confines of her blankets and raps a light fist against his noggin. "You'll have to find your damsel in distress somewhere else."
Rikuo gives her a dry look and grasps the offending limb. "Don't get cocky. It was just a suggestion."
She makes a small noise that expresses her disbelief. "Why 'suggest' anything in the first place?"
Her question asks far more than she realizes, and Rikuo remains silent, thinks about the circumstances and histories leading to them being here, at this stage in their lives, with this bizarre dynamic between them, one he's sure she doesn't even know exists. If they accept it, pursue it, there will be consequences, just like in all things, and while he's had enough time to think, to weigh his options and come to a conclusion and make a choice, she hasn't, and that makes all the difference.
Face the facts, Rikuo. She's in no condition to honestly listen to you, and you're in no condition to put yourself out there without making an ass of yourself.
He knows. The situation is too fragile, too world-changing for him to ruin it with impatience.
So he simply smirks and tucks Yura's hand back against her side, feigning nonchalance as he straightens the blankets. "It's nothing for you to concern yourself with. Go to sleep."
"I wasn't concerned," she replies, voice slurred. "And get out of my room first."
"Your room? Right," he mutters sarcastically, watching her become settled. On impulse, he leans down and glances his fingers against the smooth skin of her jaw, pushing her hair to either side of her face before rising and opening the sliding door. Just as he steps out, he hears her sleepy mumble.
"Tell Zen-san I said thanks."
He nods, even though her eyes are closed and her breaths have already deepened. "Goodnight, Yura."
Rikuo shuts the sliding door with a soft click, and finds his grandfather sitting on the edge of the veranda, pipe in one hand and sake in the other. He gazes at the scenery with a smirk.
"She's something, isn't she?"
One question, and Rikuo knows his grandfather has overheard their entire exchange. However, instead of annoyance, a warm, indulgent smile tugs at his lips, and he answers honestly.
"Understatement, old man."
Nurarihyon chuckles. "Careful. Spitfires like her? They burn."
Rikuo cocks his head, mildly curious. "You know?"
"Your grandmother was like that. Flawless princess on the outside, but get her riled up, and she shot off like a firecracker." Nurarihyon takes a small sip of sake, smirk softening to a small smile. "That's what made her special. Even when that temper was aimed at me, I wouldn't have had her any other way."
Silently, the boy ponders his grandfather's words and nods, noting the parallels. "Seen Zen around?"
"Last I saw, he was headed to the main hall. What do you need him for?"
"A favor. I have a plan in the works, but I need the right conditions for it to end in my favor."
Nurarihyon eyes him, interest piqued, but Rikuo only smirks. "Should I wish for your success?"
"I don't know. In truth, whether I succeed or not, it could end in disaster."
"A request for your survival, then." Rikuo sees the curiosity hidden behind his grandfather's carefree visage, and he chuckles.
"That, I can definitely use."