A/N: Hello! This is another old AU that I've had lying around for ages, though it ended up very different from the one in my head (which was much darker). As the backstory isn't really explained, the general gist is that Yao ended up in the equivalent of Japan, and was put under the care of the Crown Prince, Kiku.
I'm also considering expanding this series to include 'Houses of Healing', 'Street of the Sun' and 'Mountains at Midnight'. Other titles may follow. The problem is that this story, 'Festival of Flowers', takes place after the first two, while it precedes 'Mountains at Midnight'. If no one is bothered by non-linear chapters, I'll upload them (when they're written!).
Disclaimer: I do not own APH.
It was mid-morning, just past the tenth hour, and as ever, Yao followed behind Kiku, forcing himself to walk at his maddeningly slow, stately pace. Not a word was said about the way he had spoken to the other the day before, and Yao wondered if he had been too forward. The look of stunned embarrassment that had graced Kiku's face lingered in his mind, a stark contrast to the dignified mask that he now wore. Slightly bored of waiting, he overtook Kiku, ignoring the guards rolling their eyes at what they considered blatant disrespect. They remained silent, however, now long accustomed to the way Kiku would gently remind them that Yao was not an attendant, but a friend, and that friends should act as equals.
Nonetheless, as Kiku reached the bottom of the stone staircase, Yao extended a hand, and Kiku very elegantly took it, placing his delicate fingertips in Yao's outstretched palm. "Your Imperial Highness," Yao teased, bowing in a very mocking, over-the-top manner.
"Now, now," Kiku said, raising his fine eyebrows, seemingly amused. "Must you, too, rise to such a level of stiffened formality?"
Yao looked at him pointedly.
Kiku did not have to think about what he meant, though he did not meet Yao's gaze. "Such is my position," he said, with the slightest of sighs. He said no more. Yao knew that, once out of earshot of the guards, he would drop his pretences and airs, and become the very normal young man who Yao spent time with every day. Granted, he was with Kiku at all times, and he was no stranger to Kiku's formality, but he still teased him about it occasionally. But behind the air of sophistication and the carefully calculated blankness, Kiku had many subtle layers, each with subsections and roots of their own.
As they walked the path that would eventually lead to the city proper, Yao took a moment to absorb the scenery. It was early spring—Kiku had turned nineteen slightly more than a month ago—and the cherry blossom trees were in full bloom, buds of rosy pink bursting against the azure sky. Tufts of green grass, peppered with sweet-smelling chrysanthemums, waxy tulips, and lofty delphiniums, grew tall and wild amongst rhododendron and hibiscus bushes; though they had not been allowed to encroach on the path. In the shorter verges, clumps of blue daisies, creamy primroses and solemn daffodils waved in the breeze. The dark trunks of the cherry blossoms, proud and great, towered above them, creating a canopy thick enough to stop Kiku having to use his parasol, but thin enough to allow the golden sunlight to filter through and reach the flowers. The gardens of the Imperial Palace really were perfect, and never failed to amaze him.
The company, too, was perfect. Kiku's small, delicate form weaved a fine pattern as he walked. For some reason, it made Yao want to hold him, as inappropriate as that was. Though he had often hinted at his feelings, Kiku had never responded either way, save with subtle eye movements that were too complex for him to interpret.
Kiku's zouri footwear padded along softly and patiently, creating a rhythmic uniformity. Before long, they reached the crest of the hill upon which the Imperial Palace was located. From here, one could see out across nearly the whole city, all the way to the Houses of Healing in the distance. The glittering blue of the Shimanto River reflected the cloudless sky, a long and romantic trail that meandered through the countryside before finally blending into the wooded mountains in the distance. The canals that it fed shone in the same way, vibrant contrasts to the whitewashed stone of the shops bordering them and the black roofs of the residential areas. Each district of the city bustled with activity, a low murmur of quiet activity reaching their ears. Now that they were outside the protection of the trees, the wind was colder, and Kiku's clothes rippled over his small form as he shivered.
"Let's move on," Yao suggested, and Kiku nodded. They talked as they walked, and, as always, Yao found himself enjoying the high-level, educated conversation. At the same time, he found himself distracted by Kiku's expressions, which were slowly growing in diversity as they left the Palace grounds. It would not be long before he was smiling sweetly and laughing, making Yao's heart and stomach flutter in turn. Caught up in conversation and admiration, it took Yao a moment to realise that they had reached the city outskirts. It was only when Kiku hopped expertly onto a sanban and extended a hand for him to take that he noticed they were back on the canals.
The waterways were busy; much more so than they had looked from the Palace hill. The elderly and the burdened were being rowed to their destinations, their journeys made easier by the relative comfort of the sanban. Healers emerged from depots, their sanban laden with various herbs and medicinal plants. Kiku sculled the vessel expertly, waiting for those who had right of way, despite their stopping for his higher status. Before long, they had weaved their way to the Central Square, where the Memorial Spire towered over everything, shining in the sun. The engravings in its silver sides seemed to ripple as they moved past and steered the sanban to an empty spot in the square pool around the Spire. Yao disembarked, stretching in the sun. Kiku reached over to moor the vessel, but overestimated the distance—and fell, a small, quiet cry tearing from his lips. Yao moved instinctively, catching Kiku under the shoulders. "You need to be more careful," he scolded gently, noticing—and enjoying—how Kiku turned a delightful shade of pink and became incredibly flustered. (He also noticed that Kiku's fingers had tightened slightly around his sleeves, as they might have done had they been kissing).
Trying and failing to regain his calm, Kiku tore away, stammering apologies and excuses. "I—I'm going to find an attendant," he declared loudly, trying to cover his embarrassment. Yao grinned as Kiku walked away into the bustling crowd, smiling at the rather undignified reaction that he had elicited from the other.
"Smitten," a voice said from nowhere, startling him and nearly resulting in him being the one who ended up in the canal. Regaining his breath, he wheeled around to see an elderly lady sitting in a sanban, smiling at him toothily.
"I'm—I'm sorry?" he asked, now feeling the awkwardness and humiliation that Kiku had no doubt felt moments earlier. He was aware of a hot blush growing on the top of his ears.
The lady chuckled kindly. "Smitten," she repeated, chuckling again. "That's what His Imperial Highness is. Congratulations," she added, on seeing Yao's mortified look. "You've managed to sweep Prince Kiku off his feet."
"Well, um," now that he stopped to consider it, he was actually quite concerned; for Kiku would certainly have to marry someone of his own standing and position. If it was as the lady had said, and Kiku was in love with him, his reputation could be severely compromised. For the first time, he wondered if he ought to distance himself from Kiku more. "I…"
"Don't look so distraught, sonny," she said, smiling widely and laughing away his concern. "No one thinks any worse of you—or His Highness—for it."
Demoralised, he sighed and hung his head. He would never be able to match Kiku's status, and no one in their right mind would marry into a lower social class, or even condone it. "Now, now," she said, her expression changing into a more motherly one. "I meant no harm, and I mean it—no one minds."
"Really?" he asked, feeling slightly relieved.
The woman nodded enigmatically, not going into detail, but chuckling at his restored but repressed enthusiasm. "Now," she said, clearing her throat. "If you're going to woo a Prince, you'll have to do it properly. Tell me, have you heard about the Festival of Flowers?"
"The Festival of Flowers originally celebrated the peak of summer," she said, motioning for him to sit on the strut opposite her sanban. Kiku had disappeared into the crowd. As a warden had already marked their boat, indicating that they had paid, Yao assumed that he was now trying to find refreshments or tea. "But because it takes place on the Solstice, it became very popular with lovers. The Solstice is the longest day of the year, you see, and so it represents eternity. Lovers began presenting their beloveds with flowers, as a way of saying 'I want to share eternity with you.' And then, on the night of the Midsummer Festival, those who received flowers return them: red if they reciprocate those feelings; white if they don't."
"So… what you're saying is that if I give Kiku a red flower on the Festival of Flowers, it's a declaration of love? And there's no way he'll confuse it with anything else?"
At these questions, she nodded. "Of course. There's no way that a Prince of this nation would misinterpret that, of all things. But it's a little different from that old festival now. Sometimes people wear pink flowers, to show that they're hoping for or expecting a flower. Sometimes people return blue or purple flowers, to mean that they only want to be friends with that person, or that they're more than friends but not quite lovers. And it's on this day that the Imperial Family delivers a golden Chrysanthemum to each home, as good wishes for the summer ahead."
Yao sighed. So there was still a chance that Kiku could turn him down, which would be immensely awkward. "When is it?" he asked, wondering just how long he had to pluck up his courage and overcome his nerves. The thought of actually confessing to Kiku was enough to make him feel unpleasantly giddy; shaky, even.
"Oh, not for a month-and-a-half yet," the woman responded, chuckling slightly, as though she understood his intentions. "Of course, if you want to do it the proper way, you'll have to row your way around the city, especially if you want to catch up to the Imperial Barge."
His contemplation broken, he looked at her, incredulous. How would he be able to learn to row in that time? If he was going to have anyhope of doing so, he would have to start learning immediately. It was just then that Kiku returned, bearing two steaming nikuman, looking slightly discomfited by the overwhelming press of the crowd. "There was a bit of a queue," Kiku said, handing the goods over to him. "I'm really sorry to have kept you waiting."
Yao watched him as he busied himself with securing the sanban again. It was a secret pastime of his, to watch Kiku and engrave every movement into his memory. The fine sleeves of his silk kimono slipped down as he tied the mooring rope, revealing his pale and slender arms. His nimble fingers worked to deftly form a knot, and the thin bones in his hands showed through as he tightened it. He turned, saw Yao staring, and blushed. He wet his lips with his tongue, lowering his dark eyes in slight embarrassment. "I—Is something wrong?" Yao said nothing, only grinned.
He couldn't wait for the Festival of Flowers.
The sun shone over the broad lake, refracting off of the blue surface. Even now, the spring days were drawing out and growing warmer, to the point where Kiku was forced to shelter under his parasol. The heat was not yet unbearable, but it was beginning to get humid, and the cries of crickets could be heard in the rushes and reeds that encircled the southern part of the lake. Between these the fiery red and yellow spires of lupins and the waxy cerise bells of foxgloves could be seen. Beyond them, butterflies flitted from shrub to bush to flower bed. Much like the pathway to the city, the gardens were filled with all sorts of flowers and trees, and now that they were in full bloom the scents were overwhelming. Here, richly coloured peonies grew alongside reams of fragile camellia with perfect, star-like blossoms. Acers and azaleas grew tall alongside one stretch of the lake, sheltering it from view. It was in that direction that the more traditional (but no less showy) parts of the gardens lay; and beyond that, one would find the orchards and herb gardens that provided for some of the palace's refreshments.
They were on the smaller, shallower of the Imperial Gardens' lakes, seated on a guard's training sanban. A few days had passed since their excursion to the city, and, after being asked numerous times, Kiku had agreed to teach Yao to row; though he had been very confused as to his motives (Yao had told him that with the summer coming, it would be impossible for him to hold his parasol and row at the same time, so therefore, he needed to be able to row in his stead). From the way he had raised his eyebrows and watched him questioningly, it had been evident that Kiku had not believed him. Nevertheless, he trailed one hand in the clear water, gracefully refreshing himself in the heat of the afternoon. They had eaten a small, light lunch, and now it was time for the lesson to begin.
"Can you swim?" Kiku asked, looking perfectly serious, his obsidian eyes staring out across the water. Yao nodded, and Kiku returned the gesture absently, his hand still dipped in the pool. "Try standing up," Kiku suggested, demonstrating without rocking the sanban in the slightest. His lithe form and quick steps looked perfectly natural, though Yao supposed that was to be expected from someone who had grown up around water and canals. He, on the other hand, had never been heavily involved with boating or rowing. "Move quickly but precisely, against the movement of the sanban."
Yao rose to his feet shakily, the vessel's rocking sensation amplified by his inexperience. He felt the boat tip one way, and leant against the movement. Beneath them, the boat tilted this way and that. Water splashed onto Kiku's sleeve, and he shook his head, his fine black hair shifting over his eyebrows. "More quickly," he instructed, clutching the sides. "Actually, I want to get off first."
Once on the safety of the shore, Kiku sat down on his knees, watching from underneath his red parasol. Sending a playfully scathing look his way, Yao sat on the wooden boat, now much closer to the bank. "Stand up again," Kiku called, watching with hidden amusement. "More quickly this time."
Determined to prove Kiku's scepticism of his abilities unfounded (and, though he hesitated to admit it, to impress him), Yao stood up, this time overestimating his reach. He nearly toppled in, but managed to right himself at the last second. "You're being too forceful," Kiku called, now drinking tea that an attendant had brought him. "Don't be offended because I got off," he said, seeing straight through Yao's straight-faced act. "I can't swim very well. Especially not in these clothes," he said, smiling wearily as he lifted the sleeve of his cream-coloured kariginu. "Could you imagine that?"
They shared a moment of laughter at the thought. "It's odd," Yao said, staring at Kiku from afar. He paused at this thought. In all their previous conversations, he had been beside him, listening to him and his voice from a much closer position. To be this far away was disheartening. "That you can't swim well. I mean—you've lived here your whole life, and… there's no shortage of danger."
"I suppose," Kiku replied, setting the teacup down on the grass. "I think no one really expects me to swim, though. It's not very… fitting." Yao nodded in agreement. When Kiku put it like that, he had to concede that it certainly was not very becoming of a young prince.
Kiku motioned for him to stand up again. This time, he was more aware of the boat's movements—aware, but not intimidated, as he had been earlier. He stood up, finding his footing more naturally. Kiku smiled, seemingly satisfied. "That's it," he said, approaching the water's edge. "I'll get back on now." Yao took his parasol, and gently took both his hands to help him onto the sanban. Kiku blushed, and Yao wondered if he had not imagined the slight smile on his lips.
The lessons continued like this, in what was almost an idyll. The days were fun and filled with laughter, and they grew ever closer, to the point where Yao had very nearly slept in Kiku's lap on one of their voyages across the lake. He did not know it, but he was the envy of some serving-girls, who longed for Kiku to look their way—but more still envied Kiku, and his intimate friendship with the strange and intriguing foreigner. They went everywhere together, parting only at night, when Kiku sat in court, and at bath-times, but recently, things had become somewhat awkward between them. The gardens provided a picturesque and useful background to their adventures; with the approach of the Festival of Flowers, Yao coupled his boating lessons with amateur explorations of hanakotoba, intent on finding the perfect flower to give him. Kiku was all too happy to indulge this seemingly innocent quest for knowledge, and had already given him many ideas relating to the up-coming festival.
In the time he had been practising, Yao's boating skills had improved greatly. He could now row, turn, and navigate simple routes. The smaller lake now presented no challenge, and the boat no longer rocked as he sculled. He was surprised to find that it was enjoyable, though he imagined that rowing in the city's small, tightly interwoven canals would be much harder and more stressful to navigate. To prepare for that, today (with Kiku's father's permission), they had decided to take the sanban out onto the larger of the two lakes. As always, before the lesson began, they ate lunch on the shore. Between them, various wagashi were arranged beautifully, colourful contrasts to the glazed plates and dishes. The sweet smells of anmitsu, uirou and mizu youkan, hung in the air, refreshing and enticing.
Kiku sat beside him quietly, making string figures. He was engrossed, focused nearly wholly on the golden thread that was tangled around his artful fingers. Yao watched his fourth finger snare a free piece of string and pull it to the side. The oppressive silence was making things awkward, and it irritated him. Time spent with Kiku was never a waste, but he was restless. It could be so much more. He sighed. He wanted desperately to say something—anything—but at the same time, he did not know what to say. He looked to Kiku, who was now unravelling the string from around his fingers. "Do you know Cat's Cradle?" he asked nervously, kneeling in front of Kiku and taking his soft, delicate hands gently, moving them apart. Kiku's fingers curled around his thumb, maybe instinctively. They remained like this for a long moment, with Yao kneeling over him, holding his hands. He met Kiku's dark eyes, which were wide in shock and—dare he hope it?—expectation. He would have leant in for a kiss, but in the moment it took him to decide to do so, Kiku had remembered his place, and wriggled away, silently demanding his release.
"I know it," Kiku whispered, holding out his hands and expertly completing the first few steps. Tenderly, Yao took the figure from him, feeling Kiku shiver as their hands brushed together. Yao could see down the curve of his neck as he created the basic line pattern. Together, they completed the game, not saying a word. Everything was too awkward; too intense. When they had finished, Kiku unravelled the string, putting it into the pocket in his sleeve.
Yao exhaled heavily, now closer to Kiku than could be found appropriate. Neither brought attention to it, but their little fingers were touching. "Maybe we should start," he said, rising to his feet and offering Kiku a helping hand.
"Let's not go too far out today," Kiku said quietly, his obsidian eyes watching the sky. Yao turned to see what he was looking at: in the distance, dark clouds gathered, threatening rain. The wind had picked up a little, but so far, the weather had held out. Kiku took his hand and boarded the sanban, handing him the oar.
This lake was significantly deeper, and it was also less clear. Yao could not make out the bottom, and the lack of sun did not help matters. Rowing in deeper water was no harder, but somehow seemed to require more strength.
"Lift the oar a little," Kiku commented, looking out over the side. "We're in deeper water, but that doesn't mean the oar has to be deeper too. Like this, the oar has to travel through more water as it comes up, you see. That's why it's harder."
"Right," he said, gritting his teeth and following Kiku's advice. It was indeed easier, and he grinned at the smiling prince. Kiku nodded at him, pleased for him. "Think I'm ready for the canals yet?" he asked, turning them round.
Kiku laughed, smiling contentedly. "Maybe we could go out to the city one day," he said, considering the thought with all seriousness, which surprised him. He hadn't expected Kiku to be so open to the idea. "It wouldn't hurt, and I doubt there would be a problem. It would be good for you to practise with other boats around. After all, you make a fine oarsman," he added.
Yao blushed at the praise. "Could I be yours?" he asked, partially serious. Kiku seemed confused by his tone, and looked at him with raised eyebrows. There was, however, an amused light in his eyes, and he was possibly well aware of what Yao had meant. "Your oarsman," he reiterated, stopping his rowing and returning Kiku's gaze. "If I'm that good, I could be yours, couldn't I?"
"We'll see," he said, hesitating and not commenting further. Yao said nothing more, understanding that even though they were friends, he was treading on thin ground. Kiku had pride (and had to have it), and he had been embarrassed by Yao's straightforward hints many times in the past. There was a silence, not entirely uncomfortable, and then Kiku spoke up. "Is it me," he began, touching his hair. "Or is it raining?"
Yao looked up at the sky. He had not felt any rain, but the clouds overhead were dark and ominous. "Perhaps we should head back," he said, looking back to the bank. He was surprised to see that they had come a long way, further than they had intended, and were now very close to the centre of the lake.
"We've drifted," Kiku said, picking up an oar. "Because of the wind." Yao swallowed nervously. He had never rowed in bad weather, and it was indeed beginning to rain. The wind was picking up as well, sending the boat further into the lake. They exchanged worried glances, and Yao took the oar from him.
"We should go back," he said, and Kiku nodded. "I can row." Kiku hesitated slightly, but grudgingly conceded. In the wind and ever-increasing rain, it was hard to see, and he struggled to turn the boat around. It was rocking back and forth, but Yao did not think they were in danger of falling in yet. The heavens opened, and thunder crashed overhead. Kiku looked grim, but nodded to him as he began to row back towards the shore. The lacquered wood of the oar was slippery in the rain, however, and slipped from his grasp. It went under, before bobbing back to the surface. "I'll get it," he shouted to Kiku, who did not seem to have heard. Yao saw him reach overboard, and hastily pulled him away. "Don't be stupid," he said, pushing Kiku down onto the deck softly. As he reached for the oar in the water, the other slipped in. He reached, stretched—and fell in. As he went overboard, two things struck him: Kiku had reached for the other oar—the fool—and the icy sensation of the water. Then there was a splash—a heavy one—and he knew Kiku had fallen in as well.
"Kiku!" he called, swimming round the front of the boat. He saw Kiku's pale hand slip under, and gritted his teeth as he swam harder. Then Kiku's head broke the surface, and gasped for breath. He sighed in relief, but set off again immediately when Kiku started to sink.
I can't swim very well.
Especially not in these clothes.
The words which had been so innocent a few weeks ago now seemed terrible and foreboding. They chilled him, deeper than the lake did, but they spurred him on as well. "Kiku!" he cried out again. "Kiku!" He dived under, grabbing Kiku's hand and lifting him upwards. When Kiku was closer, he grasped him under the shoulders, kicking upwards as best he could. They surfaced, Kiku coughing and spluttering, clutching on to him tightly. "Hold on," he whispered, swimming for the shore. Kiku's father and various attendants had arrived, and that thought alone filled him with dread. Three times Kiku slipped from his hold, and three times Yao rescued him from the water. The second time it happened, Kiku did not wake up, and Yao panicked even more. The cold was in his bones now, but more than that, the thought of losing Kiku and the sight of his unconscious face was colder still. Once he was at the shore, he pushed Kiku into his father's arms, gasping for breath, and scrabbled out himself.
Immediately, attendants scrambled to take Kiku indoors. Yao saw him shivering and shaking, and then met his father's eyes. "I…"
"I knew I should have never agreed to this," Kiku's father said, an imposing figure even when sheltered by six or seven different coloured umbrellas. "You are a danger to my son!"
"Your Imperial Majesty, please, I…" he pressed his forehead and upper body to the wet ground, feeling the rain run down his back. "Please, we had no idea about the weather…"
His pleas fell on deaf ears. The Emperor turned away, effectively dismissing his attempt to explain. "Stay away from my son in the future," he warned, and walked away, leaving Yao's head pressed into the mud. Attendants helped him up, and helped him to walk away. He took one last look over his shoulder at the lake. The sanban still floated wildly; an oar bobbed up and down. Nearer the shore, the golden thread floated miserably, until it drifted further and further away, out of sight.
A/N: Part two of 'Festival of Flowers' will be uploaded when I come back from holiday (and when it's finished). Unfortunately, I won't be able to reply to reviews until then, but I will when I return!
Terms and notes:
Zouri: A formal type of sandal made from rice straw/plant fibres/cloth/lacquered wood, which is worn with a formal kimono. For men, the hanao, or thong, is often white/black, while for women, it is red.
Shimanto: This refers to 四万十川 , which is also known as "The Last Clear Stream of Japan."
Sanban: Similar to the Chinese 舢板, of which there wasa Japanese variant – the name of which I cannot find. Therefore I have used the onyomi of the above characters to name it.
Nikuman: Meat (usually pork)-filled buns made from flour. They are popular from late August/early September through to early April. They were based on the Chinese 包子 bāozĭ.
Kariginu: Worn by male aristocrats as 'informal' or day-to-day clothing in the Heian era.
Hanakotoba: The language (meanings) of flowers.
Wagashi: Delicious-looking sweeties that I really want to try.
Anmitsu: Cubes of red algae/seaweed jelly, served with sweet anko (red bean paste) and a variety of fruits, like peach slices, cherries, etc. Often served with a sweet black syrup, which one pours on the jelly.
Uirou: Subtly sweet sticky rice cakes. Popular flavours include cherry blossom, green tea, yuzu, st+rawberry, and chestnut.
Mizu youkan: Jellied red bean paste, agar, and sugar. Chilled, and eaten in summer.