What is Fair?
"Kouya!" Rokuta shouted, stretching out a hand as if some power of the kirin could draw the general back to him. But there was no magic that could pierce a hardened heart, and the stone-faced boy continued on his way without a word-without a final glance- mesmerized by his own haunted thoughts.
It was some time, though, before Rokuta could let his hand drop against the bed. His whole body shook with fever, yet it wasn't the thick smell of blood that suddenly made him lose his last ounce of strength. It was the greater memory of another turning away from him, leaving him weak and sick without a final glance or gentle word.
And he never came back. Rokuta gasped for breath as he pulled the hand back to his chest. It had happened again. It just wasn't fair.
"Rokuta." Shouryuu's voice was too tender, too understanding for Rokuta to bear. . A searing pain tore through his chest, ripping its way up his throat, and he abruptly turned away from the king, the prison doorway; everything that reeked of blood and mocking hopes. Had he expected things to be different this time? How could the outcome ever be different in war?
But it simply wasn't fair. None of it was fair. Why couldn't it ever be fair?
"Yokuhi," he gasped as his eyes began to burn. "I want you."
"I am here, Taiho." Her arms and wings materialized to wrap around him, and she pressed her cheek to his hair with the same adoration she had always shown him. Rokuta clung to her, burying his face into the warm fur of her breast. He didn't often seek the comfort of his nyokai the way most kirins would, but at this moment there was nothing he needed than being enfoled in her arms.
Except the comfort of another, he suddenly realized, whose boot steps echoed through the dungeon as they approached the bed. Rokuta felt a blanket draped across him with deliberate care, as though Shouryuu was hesitant to distress him further. He made no other sounds or attempted to touch his kirin in anyway, yet Rokuta suddenly remembered the strong arms holding fast to his legs as the man carried him so carefully…
"Shouryuu!" he called suddenly as the hands drew away. "I…I need you," he pleaded in a raspy whisper, almost fearful of his own admission.
There was no response from Shouryuu; not even one of his quick laughs which could turned any serious statement into a joke. Rokuta's heart sank even further. What he expected after all?
Then, he heard a rustle of cloth, and the clunking of boots falling to the stone floor. A heavy hand patted Rokuta's back, quietly urging him further into the bed. Rokuta obeyed, and the mattress dipped as the king lay down on the bed. Yokihu meekly relinquished her hold on him as both of the man's arms wrapped firmly around his chest, drawing him backwards into a warm embrace. She satisfied herself with snuggling as close to Rokuta as she could get and draping her wing over both man and kirin until both were shielded from sight.
For a moment Rokuta struggled to find his breath. Rather than relieving the pain, Shouryuu's actions had made it pierce all the more deeply. Those nasty thoughts revolved in his head: It isn't fair, it isn't fair.
But what is fair? Why can't it be fair?
Then, Shouryuu raised a hand to brush his mane back from his forehead and massaged his temple with gentle fingers; a tender touch that reminded Rokuta of long past days.
"I am here, Rokuta. I am always here."
And with those words, the pain released and Rokuta finally wept it all away.