Disclaimer: I own nothing. Well, I do own a tempermental cat. And a retainer. But me no own rights to FY. Nuh-uh.

AN: Ahhhh, um, yeah. This is Ryuuen's transformation after Kourin's death, though Rokou's eyes. This part here does not go up to Ryuuen's, um, donning of the robe, so to speak. Because I don't think that's the sort of think he'd do right away. So enjoy the catatonia for now. I spell checked this, but no edits otherwise -- when I nitpick over edits things never get posted. I get too picky and decide it's a lost cause. And I think I got my Japanese vocab right. It's been awhile since I've been in class, so I'm beyond rusty. Yeah. Have fun. Or as much fun as one can have with this topic. Probably OC, but hell, you only see Rokou for like five minutes anyway so eh.

Otouto

Sleep

When we arrived at the scene, he was so still... at first 'Kaa-san thought he was the one who had been hit, sitting in a pool of blood, unmoving... but as she drew near she began to scream. Obaa-san tried to cover my eyes, but I broke free and ran to Ryuuen. His eyes were so blank, empty, silent. He stared at Kourin's bloody hair, petting her, softly calling her name. 'Kaa-san was in tears, trying to pull him from the blood, and he moved like a doll, stiff and slow and limp. He maintained his grip on our sister... I touched her blood; put my finger on her nose like I used to, she never moved, not even a flinch. Obaa-san pulled me away again, and I fell back with her to the edge of the crowd. I didn't cry, it hadn't sunk in... I was like Ryuuen, blank, with wide eyes. His hands were so steady, though, as he stroked her hair, pulling bits of bone and blood from her purple mess. My hands shook so much; I trembled in Obaa-san's arms, weak. Always stronger, Ryuuen was always so much stronger. Obaa-san's grip on my shoulders hurt as she dug her nails through my coat, and she made a small choking noise.

Vaguely I heard 'Tou-san yelling at the cart-driver. I could almost taste his rage in the back of my mouth, silvery and metallic. I could feel the sparks as he turned on the crowd that had gathered, blaming each of them for... Kourin. When he turned to Ryuuen, he grew blank... silent. 'Kaa-san clung to my brother, sobbing, wailing. 'Tou-san knelt next to her and wiped her tears with a bloody thumb, then whispered in her ear. She nodded and stood, and motioned for Ryuuen to let my sister go and step back.

He did not see her.

"Ryuu-chan, we need to clear the road..." 'Kaa-san murmured through hiccups, "Please?"

"Kourin, Kourin," was his only reply, faint, muffled by Kourin's broken robes.

"Get up," 'Tou-san ordered, his rage softened.

"Kourin, Kourin..."

"Please don't make a scene..." 'Kaa-san tried to pull him free, but his strength shook her free, and she fell gracelessly.

'Tou-san grabbed his arm. "Get up!" Ryuuen wouldn't budge.

I could only stare... Obaa-san held me tighter, pulling my face into her bosom...

Things never changed. I mean, they changed, but they never progressed from there. At the wake Ryuu-chan sat vacantly in the corner. He never cried. He was so strong. While I sobbed at the family shrine, he knelt there, eyes dry. Long after the funeral he remained silent and dry.

When 'Tou-san screamed at him for letting Kourin out of his sight, I felt tears coming to my eyes, hot and burning. I could never let them fall, never. What would 'Tou-san say? But Ryuuen... Ryuu-chan, he sat there, staring 'Tou-san right in the eye, and barely blinked. So brave, so strong. Even 'Tou-san was impressed, calling him "stoic."

But Ryuuen never snapped out of it. At meals he at sparingly, sipping at some soup and staring vacantly at his rice. 'Kaa-san warned him, told him all sorts of stories about what happens if you waste your rice, all the misfortune, lost gold, all that... and he never flinched. Obaa-san tried force-feeding him, but his strength kept his jaws shut. 'Tou-san tried to slap some sense into him, despite 'Kaa-san's screams, but it never worked. 'Tou-san would scream at him not to make 'Kaa-san cry... But 'Kaa-san would cry, and Ryuuen would stare at his rice. On a good day he would poke it idly with his chopsticks... on a bad day he would barely drink tea, and would spit it out if it was medicinal.

He shrunk... his clothes puddled around him. His eyes were dark, hollow. He had bags blacker than Obaa-san.

Soon, when 'Tou-san shook him by his shoulders, telling him to eat, he would move limply. Obaa-san could pry his mouth open to feed him, but then he wouldn't chew, or would choke while swallowing.

He still helped in the shop, though. Usually, he would stand in a corner and stroke a bolt of purple silk. 'Tou-san would be busy fitting a customer, and we'd be in charge of the front room -- and Ryuuen'd leave all the work to me. I would smile at all the ladies, flirt with them, get them to tell me about my good looks, try to sell them some brocade... Ryuuen would hang back in the shadows, clutching his purple silk.

I hated it before, he could get away with everything, him and Kourin both, but now I was the perfect child. When father saw me with a customer and Ryuuen hanging back, now he would scold Ryuuen and try to pull the silk from his arms. Before, he would scold me for hogging the attention, I was doing it wrong, I could never do it right, let Ryuu-chan do it, he knows his way with the ladies!

The only time Ryuuen came to life was when little girls came in... rich little girls who needed to be fitted for some party or another. He would bounce up, smile ready, and run the girl through the store, showing her pink silks and ivory embroidery and red brocade. Wouldn't this be nice, little girl? Ahh, you look so cute! Just like a little Suzaku no Miko!

He would always go through that act with the little girls, charming their mothers, and winning a large order. If 'Tou-san saw this, he would say, "My, he's making progress!" And then he would congratulate him! The perfect boy again... though he was just making up for losing our sister.

He would show the purple silk to little girls sometimes, try to charm them into a dress. But if the girl was too convincing in it, he would grow silent and blank, often cutting off mid-sentence. The mother would panic, ask him to wake up, and right before she called for 'Tou-san he would snap out of it, resuming right where he left off, bright and cheery. His cheeks grew pink; his breath came fast -- when normally he was pallid and his breath soft and shallow. He was like a ghost, with life slowly being fed into him.

The perfect boy... and the annoyance, the burden, the ingrate. "Why keep fussing if you're still alive?" Obaa-san would ask. "At least the cart didn't get you too."

He never defended me from bullies anymore... 'Tou-san would scold me for not being stronger, not standing up for myself anymore. Before he thought I fought the bullies myself -- when it was really Ryuuen. Innocent little Ryuu-chan, fighting them all for me. So strong. But now he barely defended himself. He would drift from punch like a limp rag doll. So not only did I not stand up for myself, no, 'Tou-san scolded me for not defending my brother either.

But bruises and breathless blush were all that colored his face anymore. He ate less and less, grew smaller and smaller. Before bed we used to exchange scary stories, but now he lay across the room from me, wordless. If not for his sales pitches to the little girls, we would have thought he was mute. Sometimes, late at night, he would wake up with a cry, and begin to toss and turn, calling for Kourin.

I had nightmares too. Kourin would be running to me, holding her doll, ordering me to play with her. Before, I always thought I was so busy, so very important, I would yell at her to go away. In my dreams, I would forget she was dead, and yell for her to leave me... and she would explode in a burst of blood and purple cloth. Blood would cover my clothes, the wall, everything. I would burst into tears and run to the ancestral shrine, still covered in blood... and I'd wake up, in my pajamas, curled up beneath the shrine, cheeks wet with tears. Sometimes Obaa-san would find me, or one of the servants. Obaa-san would hold me, and then lead me to my room. The servants, though, they would scream, thinking I was a thief. They got used to it... The cook began to tease me, calling me altar-boy.

I began to flinch when I heard the cook's daughter, Miki, giggle. She would run down the hall, and I would start, thinking it was Kourin... But it never was.

'Kaa-san would run screaming if she heard Miki-chan, sometimes... The first time Ryuuen heard Miki giggling he broke into a run and tackled her, like he used to do to Kourin, but stopped before he could tickle her, realizing that she was someone else. Miki was in tears, and ran off to the kitchen. Ryuuen sat there, silent, the red from his run fading from his cheeks. Later, sometimes, 'Kaa-san would treat Miki to candies. Miki was one of the few people Ryuuen would acknowledge in his haze; he would ruffle her hair without looking, murmuring a soft "Miki-chan" in greeting. Me, he would walk by me without seeing. He never left frogs in my bed anymore. He never flicked pickles at me over dinner. He never did anything.

And one morning, he never woke up.

Well, he opened his eyes, but he never... woke up.

When 'Kaa-san tried to pull him from bed, he would collapse back into his pillows.

When 'Tou-san shook him by his shoulders and ordered him up, he would stare blankly.

When Obaa-san tried medicinal salves, he would vaguely shake her off and stare at the ceiling.

I tried to get him up too. I leapt into bed to try to wrestle him out, like I used to, but he wouldn't even fight back. He would just fall out of bed with me and lay there, breath soft and even. I held him and cried, cried my shameful tears that 'Tou-san said boys should never have. I lost Ryuu-chan too. I would snuggle close to him and beg him to wake up, but no response.

After awhile I hauled him back in bed and lay with him under the covers. "Ryuu-chan, you think this is funny, don'tcha?" I would ask him. "Please wake up. I'll tickle you if you don't." I went for his sweet spot, but no response, he would weakly swat my hand away and lay there. Not a sign of his special strength, nothing, just a weak swat. No laughter, nothing. When I would fall on him with Kourin, how loudly he would laugh! Obaa-san would come running, and scold us for making such a fuss so early in the morning.

But this time there was no fuss. I just lay there, stroking his hair, calling for him... and there was no answer. He would stare at the ceiling, breath steady. If he looked at me he never saw me, he looked past me. His hands were so cold, like ice.

When Obaa-san walked in on me calling for my brother, I cut her short. "Don't tell me I'm weak," I choked through my tears, "And don't tell me I'm too old..."

"Rokou-chan..." She sat at the edge of his bed, and began to rub my back. "Shh... there is no shame..."

"But," I sniffed, "you always say --"

"I say it when others can see your tears... but now," she paused, "Would he want to see you like this?"

"Genki deshita," I murmured softly, snuggling into Ryuuen's still form. He used to be so happy.

"Shhh."

"Shhh," I repeated after her. Her hand on my back eased my tension away. I felt like a baby, crying from a nightmare... I would wake up, full of tears, and she would be there, shushing me and rubbing my back, telling me I was floating on clouds. But now, could I wake up?

I couldn't. No matter how hard I tried…