"Again, Seiran…again!" Shuurei whined and wriggled under his arm cuddling next to him, her round little face beaming up at him.
"You're supposed to be sleeping," Seiran looked down sternly at her. "It's not a lullaby if you're not going to sleep."
Shuurei opened her mouth in a little "o" and forced herself to make a big yawn. "See, Seiran, I'm so sleepy." She looked up at him expectantly with wide, round eyes.
He chuckled softly. "Master is depending on me to get you to sleep," he lectured her.
"Papa sings it all wrong," Shuurei commented, dismissing Shouka's interference in the bedtime ritual. "He can never remember the words, and then he snores in the middle." Shuurei's tiny eyebrows drew together in disapproval. Seiran tried to keep a straight face. "Seiran doesn't snore when he sings it." She looked up at him quizzically, as if trying to work out a deep dilemma.
"Well, perhaps Master knows a different version," he stated, a grin tickling the corner of his mouth.
"I like Seiran's best," she concluded. "Papa gives the best horsey rides, but bedtime is for Seiran."
It had been the same routine every night now for so long, and he didn't care to remember what came before this. Somehow, Seiran had been charged with getting the little bundle of energy that was Shuurei Kou to settle down each night long enough for sleep to catch up with her. The most successful method had been to sing her a lullaby, of which Seiran knew only two. Those usually switched off on successive nights, but lately, Shuurei had been requesting this one in particular for several nights in a row.
"Ok, one more time," he acquiesced as he always did.
"Yay! Seiran!" she bounced on the bed and then ducked under the blankets, resting her head against his chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, her little fingers clutching his tunic. He almost couldn't start because of the lump in his throat and the tightness in his chest. Wrapping his arm around the tiny, warm bundle huddled at his side, he leaned over and snuffed out the candle. The shimmering glow of moonlight spilled across the bed, illuminating Shuurei's adoring eyes looking up at Seiran.
"Sleep," he sighed wearily.
"I am asleep," she answered. "I know I am because I'm dreaming of the pretty prince."
He felt a hitch in his breath. "Who's the pretty prince?" he asked smiling at her.
"You are, silly," she grinned back and closed her eyes. This time she yawned for real. "Sing, Seiran," the little princess commanded.
"Twinkle, Twinkle…" he began, speaking the words more than singing them.
"It's 'Twinkie, Twinkie,'" she mumbled against his side.
"No, it's 'Twinkle, Twinkle,'" he corrected softly, glancing down at her face half-covered by the edge of his tunic.
"I like 'Twinkie,'" she mumbled. "Say 'Twinkie.'"
"Fine, if it makes you go to sleep," he sighed again, surrendering to her.
"Seiran," Shuurei cooed sweetly. "Will you always sing me to sleep?"
He smiled down at the little form curled up like an egg beside him. "As long as you want me to," he answered and brushed her long black hair carefully from her face.
"Always," she muttered sleepily.
Always, he sighed. Sadly, Seiran understood too well that nothing lasted forever. In fact, it was lucky if any happiness lasted long enough to become a memory. He had so few of those kinds of memories. Ryuuki. General Sou. Shouka. Lady Kou. Shuurei. He counted them on one hand and folded his fingers into a fist, determined to protect the fistful of happiness he had stolen from a world of despair.
"Twinkie, Twinkie, Seiran…" Shuurei slurred, her jaw slacked, almost asleep.
He cleared his throat and felt the heat rising to his cheeks. He still wasn't used to this. It hadn't been that long ago that the only thing that turned his face red was murderous intent. Was he even the same person as the boy who stumbled from one day to the next killing and wishing for death?
No, right now, he was someone he was never supposed to be—someone happy and loved.
"Twinkie, Twinkie, little star, how I wonder what you are," he sang softly, his voice halting and shy.
"Seiran," his little princess mumbled.
"Hmm…" he stopped singing, but continued to hum the lullaby.
"I know what the little star is," she breathed the words and reached her hand up to knot her fingers absently in the ends of the long silver hair that fell down over his shoulder. It had become a regular ritual between them and helped her to sleep.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice hushed and warm.
"It's mama," she muttered barely above a whisper, and soft, steady breaths followed in silence.
He tried very hard to maintain his composure, to pull a steadying breath so as not to wake Shuurei. His body trembled no matter how hard he fought. Once, he had been very adept at shutting off his emotions, but he couldn't seem to summon that skill anymore. He covered his mouth with his free hand and wept copiously, clutching Shuurei so tightly that she wriggled in her sleep next to him.
He slackened his hold on her and drew a long breath that calmed him out of sheer will. He wiped his face, berating his own foolishness, and turned his focus out the window, looking for something to distract his overwrought mind. He glanced up at a particularly bright star in the sky that seemed to glimmer down at him in a sparkling flash.
His eyes widened and he drew a quiet breath. The star shimmered with a tinge of red at its edges and he was spellbound by it for several seconds. A wave of warmth flowed through him, gentle, soothing, consoling. He smiled up at the star, softly snuggling Shuurei to his side, his protective arm cradling her against him.
"For the rest of my life, my lady," he whispered to the star. "I promise you."