Beloved wasn't a name Soubi ever expected to bear. It wasn't a name that suited him, not something that described his nature, even though it had been carved into his soul as surely as his skin. That didn't make it the truth of his experiences; didn't describe how people reacted to him or felt toward him, not since the death of his parents. Even once it became his name, that didn't change.
It didn't describe how he felt about Seimei either, although he saw soon enough how truly the name described his master. No matter what Seimei did, everyone loved him. People came to him, followed him, and he never had to lift a finger to earn their affection. Soubi noted it, but he didn't find it strange. How could it be? The name was the nature; nothing Seimei did could change that.
Perhaps that was why, of all the orders Seimei gave, the one thing he never commanded Soubi to do was to love him. He had so many who gave him that; why would he need another? That wasn't what a fighter was for.
All Seimei wanted of Soubi was obedience. And that, he gave without question.
The orders began as soon as he'd been claimed, while his throat was still bleeding. Seimei stepped back and looked at him, the knife still in his hand, and nodded, apparently satisfied. He was smiling, but there was no warmth in the expression.
"Go and clean yourself up. Don't let it get infected. It'd be a shame to mess up your new name."
Soubi nodded, even though the movement hurt and increased the bleeding, the red mess already soaking his shirt gradually spreading down his chest. Here, facing his new master, he felt grateful for his training for the first time. This pain, the pain he had freely chosen, wasn't so bad. He could bear it without flinching, without looking weak.
"Then get your things. I have a busy schedule; I can't stay here all day."
He could have asked where they were going or where he'd be staying from now on. Most of the other students, even the good ones, probably would have. But Soubi, who had no home but this academy, didn't say a word. He nodded again and turned to go. He could feel Seimei's eyes on him as he walked away and, through their new bond, the one that both throbbed with every step and twined around him, binding him with a delicate thread, he could feel that he'd pleased him.
When he returned, bag in hand, Seimei had new orders. "You'll find a place to live and something to do when I don't want you. You'll take this phone and answer it whenever I call, no matter what you're doing. You'll do exactly as I say. And of course, you won't return here, nor have any contact with anyone here unless I tell you to. That's fine, right?"
His ears and tail reflected excitement, but there was none of that in his voice or his expression. He thought he was being cruel, cutting him off from everything he'd known, but Soubi felt nothing but relief. Ritsu-sensei had been all he had; the only person close to him. The only one he'd wanted to please. But he'd rejected him, sent him to another. And now that he had, he was glad to be free of him. He nodded, still silent, but inside, he felt he'd be happy if he never saw this place again.
In some ways, Seimei was easy to serve. He never spoke of where or how he'd been trained, but he knew how to treat Soubi. His orders were exacting, but clear. Soubi didn't have to think for himself; he didn't have to question or make decisions. Come when I call. Don't let my mother or brother see you. Don't call me unless I've told you to. Don't tend your wounds unless I give permission. Otherwise take care of yourself so you can win for me. Never touch me. His life was a litany dictated by Seimei and he followed it without question, the commands gradually becoming second nature.
Sometimes, Seimei tested him. Once he left him waiting outside in the rain all night. In the morning, he brought Soubi coffee, all sweetness and apologies, but they both knew he'd done it deliberately. It wasn't the first time. He liked to test physical limits, to refuse him rest or food, just to see if he'd complain.
He never did. While he'd considered on occasion what name he might one day bear, Soubi had never had any illusions about his own nature. He was a blank fighter, one born without a name of his own. But if he'd had one, it would have been Emptiness.
He thought that once he bore a name, once he served a Master, that would change. Soubi was empty, but that was only so he could be filled, so he could serve as a vessel for someone else's will. He even thought it had changed.
He should have known better. That belief was comforting and Seimei never cared for anyone's comfort but his own. He despised it, took pleasure in destroying it. Had Soubi truly thought he was an exception?
When he heard that Seimei was dead, he knew he wasn't.
Soubi had been perfect. He'd never lost a battle. He'd never disobeyed or even questioned, no matter how he felt about what he'd been ordered to do. Never failed, and yet he'd failed in the most profound way a fighter could. His sacrifice was dead; he hadn't protected him. He still bore a name, but that name was now meaningless.
He'd never felt so empty. If Seimei hadn't left orders, hadn't told him what to do in the event of his death, he might have stopped living. In fact, he was certain of it.
Instead, as always, he did as he was told. He took a new name, one that felt more fitting than the old one ever had. He obeyed a new master, though this one gave him fewer orders than he would have preferred. He let others call him traitor; let them despise him for what he had done. It was only to be expected. Wasn't that his nature now? Wasn't he, who had once been Beloved, now Loveless?
It was inevitable, as inevitable as the day in the cemetary when Seimei called him and he, always obedient, answered that call.
But things were different now. He questioned; he talked back. He felt anger and regret.
Ritsuka had never marked him, had never written his name on him, not on his skin nor on his soul. He couldn't, or so it was said: once written, the name couldn't be changed.
Soubi had always believed that; had taken for granted that it was true. But now, he wondered. Because even as he accompanied Seimei, even as he fought for him and claimed his name as his own once again, he knew that never – not even when his parents had died – had he felt so loveless as he did now.