Title: Manjuu Magic
Genre: Humour/Romance/Gen
Rating: PG-13?
Disclaimer: I don't own KokuMono!
Chap: Part 04
WEEK FOUR: COUNTDOWN!
Shuurei peeked surreptitiously around the tall bookshelf that separated her from her intended. Good, he's alone! Now's my chance!
She calmly approached the young man seated at a desk in the library, his hair tied back in its usual bun while his bangs hung loosely in his eyes.
"Huh? Consort Kou? Are you all right?" Kouyuu asked seriously, taken aback by the dark, bruised circles under her eyes and her wickedly pale, gaunt face as she sat down across from him.
Grabbing his hands in hers from across the table, she looked deep in his eyes then bowed her head. "Please, I beg a favour of you!" she cried desperately. She quickly slipped him a note and rushed away, too embarrassed to wait for his answer lest scandal result that she was unable to do her job without the help of a man there to motivate the Emperor. It would be humiliating if it were to come to light. As direct as she was, she knew asking for this kind of help from Advisor Kouyuu should be done with some discretion.
The young man sent a dismissive look at her back as she walked briskly through the archway to the courtyard, returning to her residence. Strange woman.
He unfolded the small paper and read it in a glance, promptly groaning in resignation. Head in one hand, he eyed the request scornfully. "So she's this desperate," he mumbled to himself, "ugh…"
xXxXxXx
"…good, and then what?" quizzed the strict overseer, his gaze piercing the Emperor's mildly-alarmed façade.
"Um, er… that is, We—measure the flour?" Ryuuki stammered, uncertain and winced at his new teacher's violent reaction.
"NO!" hollered Kouyuu, ignoring all proper pedagogical and imperial decorum as he threw a cup of frigid water at the Emperor, scolding him again.
"Wahhh!"
"Do it again—recite the recipe from the beginning!" challenged the sadistic scholar, unrelenting.
The miserable leader of the nation complied, and the 'lessons' in Consort Kou's residence kitchen rang out across the nearby gardens in the palace, the sound carrying easily on the wind and over the water of the ponds. It was night, and the tutorial had already endured hours.
Outside on the veranda that swept the perimeter of the apartment, Seiran completed his usual rounds and approached to speak briefly with Shusui about the younger man's progress, both faintly concerned at the volume level of the 'extra-help' being meted out on Saiunkoku's great and noble director.
"I'm just worried it'll start more rumours," whispered the blue-eyed woman from behind her hand. She glanced around again, making certain no other servants were close enough to eavesdrop.
Seiran nodded, but smiled back reassuringly. "I'm sure it'll all work out in the end." He winced in sympathy as another cup of water sloshed over the whimpering student-victim.
"Do We need to do this every night?" pleaded Ryuuki, exhausted and soggy.
"You'll do it until Consort Kou's satisfied, understood?" Kouyuu railed back, merciless.
On the doorstep, the imperial guard shifted slightly as he massaged his temple, still attempting to maintain his reassuring smile while Shusui gave him a, "see what I mean?" -look.
Shuurei, resembling more and more a reanimated corpse in imperial finery due to her unimaginable exhaustion and stress, floated up to her friends and greeted them with a wan smile. "Evening, and welcome to the den of the damned!" she said swimmingly.
"It'll be over soon," soothed her attendant as she offered Shuurei a bracing cup of tea as she joined them outside in the fresh air and looked over the peaceful nightscape. She inhaled the relaxing, but invigorating steam and closed her sore eyes, picturing her garden and kitchen at home under similar conditions: Her father relating anecdotes about his day at the palace; she scrubbing vegetables as she prepared the meal; Seiran helping stock the stove with wood and minding the pots cooking on top, laughing a bit at some funny occurrence on which her father remarked…
The peaceful scene dashed to pieces at the next explosion from the kitchen, however. Shuurei, unmoved and unsurprised, sighed and-- completely unperturbed-- took another sweet sip of tea.
"Idiot! How did you freeze and explode the eggs, simultaneously!? There's no ice here—and you weren't anywhere near them, anyway!" Kouyuu screamed, confounded, ripping at his hair in frustration. "Great spirits, thank the gods they kept you away from the chicken coops when you were young—you could be some kind of food demon or fire bender!"
Ryuuki sounded like he was crouched on the floor with his arms up protecting his royal noggin from another frigid bath. "We don't know!" he cried unhappily, but his amber eyes immediately brightened as he continued. "But the good news is We haven't lit the water on fire yet!"
On the balcony, Seiran compassionately stood by while Shusui rubbed the Consort's rhythmically heaving shoulders, quietly murmuring, "it's ok, we'll work it out, shhh… Come on now, we both know they don't execute consorts anymore for not conceiving on the first go, there's still plenty of time. That's it, good girl, shhhh…."
Shuurei hiccupped and tried to nod bravely amidst her bitter tears of frustration, even forcing a smile for Shusui and devoted Seiran. She had to be strong. She was hired to lead the Emperor on the right path. She was—
"Oops, spoke too soon," they heard Ryuuki comment blithely a moment later as a majestic FOOM! went off from inside the kitchen.
xXxXxXx
"…heard they invited a third last night…"
"Oh really? Who was the lucky girl?"
"Man, actually. Advisor Li Kouyuu."
"…"
"…"
"Still in the kitchens?"
"All over the kitchens, apparently. Did you know they built it with fire-retardant beams? I guess they really expected things to get hot!"
"Well, whatever works, I suppose. Have the betting pools changed their odds yet?"
"They're more in our favour since Advisor Li's arrival!"
"No one expected that one—I think the Advisor Ran contingent are jealous."
"I wonder if they'll have a turn, too?..."
Sitting up straighter on her bench, Shuurei forced herself to focus on the characters on the scroll in front of her and ignore the chatty bits of gossip by the passing servants. It wasn't like they were trying to pour more grief in her cup, but all the tea she'd drunk that morning had tasted bitter, regardless.
"Ah! Empress Kou!" gushed a minister as he spied her hiding spot behind the pillar.
Oh no, not him again, groaned the Consort internally, suppressing a yawn. The constant hounding by 'well-intentioned' officials wasn't improving matters, either.
Smiling genteelly, she demurely bowed her head to the unwanted visitor, mentally praying for a swift end to whatever he'd come to discuss. The ornaments in her hair felt even heavier that morning, and she struggled to right herself after her show of deference.
"I'm merely 'Consort Kou', Minister, but thank you for the warm greeting," the young woman corrected promptly, modestly, and politely, to avoid rumour-mongering.
The skinny man beamed back at her, a disturbingly optimistic glint in his eyes. "Oh, don't be modest, Empress Kou!" he insisted, and his face blurred faintly before her eyes. Shuurei narrowed her eyes at him to clear her vision. "We're all thrilled and happily anticipating the big news! I just wanted to be able to congratulate you on your fine job."
Shuurei looked him over and wondered where his twin had emerged from. There're no secret passageways here, she thought hazily to herself, ignoring the men's words. The conversation seemed to be swimming around now, too, and she couldn't quite catch it anymore. Every second or third word seemed to be missing—perhaps they went to visit her rooms? Yes, going back to her room would be a good idea, she decided.
The faces in front of her went pale in concern, eyes huge as she stood to dismiss the visitors. They put their arms up in caution a she heard one of them say something about "her delicate condition," before everything went quiet.
"What do you mean? What 'delicate condition'?" she thought she mumbled, but then everything went black.
xXxXxXx
The late afternoon sun cast shadows through the lavish bedroom, embracing the two dedicated, prominent young adults inside in softer light. The man, his long hair falling loosely over his shoulders, sat at a woman's bedside, the woman herself still pale and unmoving. Her own dark hair was splayed across the sheets, and every so often the man would reach out to move some away from her face, the breeze ruffling over them from the nearby windows.
Ryuuki quietly watched over Shuurei's exhausted form as she slept, abandoning himself to the guilt that had plagued him since he'd been informed of her collapse earlier that day.
"My Lady's made of stronger stuff than this," Seiran informed him from the doorway from where he was observing. He hadn't left her. "Once she's rested, she'll be back in top form. She'll be angry you wasted time at her bedside when you could have been practicing," he commented mildly, more in jest than reproach.
The young Emperor's attention never wavered, though, from the woman limned in amber light from the soon-to-be-setting sun. "We did this," he stated simply, quietly. He reached out again, but pulled his hand back before touching her temple. "She worked so hard to help Us, and she got sick. We aren't even able to help her, or have anything to show Our people who trust Us so much to lead them," his voice was soft, more disappointed in himself than he'd ever been—because now he truly was trying his best, and was finding he couldn't succeed. "We'll be disappointing everyone soon: Our Court, Our Precepts, Our people, Our Shuurei." He stared at his devoted's hands as she lay asleep on her bed, her arms above the blankets he'd used to tuck her in. "We wanted them to be proud of Us, to believe in Us as a good leader."
Seiran watched the younger man carefully move some loose hair from Shuurei's face again, listening to the soft, familiar sounds of her breathing for several minutes before slipping out of the room, unnoticed.
We—I , Ryuuki corrected himself, immediately disregarding his royally-imposed habit, preferring to vow as a man instead of an Emperor, I never want to disappoint you, Shuurei. Shuurei continued her slumber, undisturbed by her 'husband's' attentions.
He was interrupted some time later when Shouka's steady hand patted him paternally on the shoulder. He looked up at the man who had been his teacher and, in many ways, guardian, and immediately chastised himself for not alerting him sooner to his own daughter's state. There was no sign of reprisal or condemnation in that familiar, lined face, only understanding and compassion.
"Come join me for a cup of tea, your Highness," he said in invitation, looking kindly down at the young Emperor. Ryuuki nodded hesitantly, gave a final look at Shuurei and mentally promised to return to her soon. He followed Shouka to the suite's kitchen, taking a seat at the long worktable while the other man prepared a brew fit to poison pirate kings, joining him at an adjacent bench shortly thereafter.
They watched the steam wisps rise in curls from their cups for several minutes, the silence warming the younger man in familiarity. They'd often sat like this in the library, over the years, with Shuurei's meals shared between them. His eyes clouded again at the memory. He had to find some way of… Ryuuki sighed and let the idea trail off, too emotionally exhausted to pursue it this time. He sipped at his tea, grateful for the company for the time being.
Shouka nodded for Ryuuki to share what was on his mind, when he saw the burdened man relax somewhat. Golden eyes looked away sadly, and a little embarrassed, but did speak after a few moments, stating he'd just wanted to learn how to make Shuurei's manjuu buns.
"Ahhhhh…." Smiled her father knowledgeably, "I see. Did she ever tell you how she learned them, by any chance?" he inquired, fingers resting peacefully around the exquisite teacup he held.
Ryuuki shook his head. Now that he thought about it, no, she hadn't mentioned it at all…
Shouka's eyes creased, showing off his crowfeet as he grinned a bit and leaned over the cup, elbows relaxed at his sides as he eased back thoughtfully. "Well, Shuurei always wanted to help when she was a little girl. Her mother and I weren't very good in the kitchen, but her mother could bake wonderful pastries when the inclination struck her. Luckily, Seiran was around when the kitchen struck back," he mused aloud in retrospect, and Ryuuki rewarded him with a faint smile, recognizing his guard's effort and worth were so deeply appreciated by those around him.
"Now, this is a little-known secret," continued the wise one, "but Shuurei also had a trying time learning to cook." At this, Ryuuki looked up at his interlocutor, amazed. "Yes, you didn't know, did you? Well, she had indeed inherited our flawed kitchen prowess. We began to wonder if we'd accidentally poison ourselves making rice gruel!" Shouka laughed, ignorant of Ryuuki's pale, horrified face.
No wonder she lasted as long as she did through the palace poisonings! The fair-haired man thought to himself. She's already partly immune!
"But then one day she surprised us with those buns. Once she mastered making the simple, plain ones, she moved on to other pastries, other dishes. It took time, but she did it. Her mother asked her once how she learned the buns so well, and do you know what she said?"
Ryuuki shook his head.
"She told her mother that Seiran had gone to a baker to ask for advice and came back with one word: Love."
"How will this help Us master this by the deadline the Precepts set out, though?" interrupted the impatient young man, clenching his teacup.
Shouka stilled a moment, while his audience calmed himself, then continued. "You see, Shuurei had been trying to impress us to gather praise before—but when Seiran returned and helped her make the next batch, encouraging her to show her love for everyone through her love of cooking, the frustration and bitterness left and were replaced with happiness and success. It was a very tasty epiphany," he joked faintly, remembering the surprised, joyful looks in Shuurei's & Seiran's faces (covered in flour) when they'd proudly presented the first of a long line of wonderful manjuu buns to the archiver and his wife at home in their orchard. "So," he carefully watched the Emperor's face transform with the story, "you need to remember to show your love when you serve another. It isn't always important to impress, but to be true and truly love, to do your best to make those around you happy without necessarily seeking their praise and admiration; those will set you on the right path. A simple start, yes, but also the best beginning." Shouka smiled comfortingly at the man destined to rule and serve in equal measure. "Do you understand, my young man?" Not 'Ryuuki', not 'the Emperor', not 'your Highness'—'young man'.
"We… We think so," replied his charge uncertainly, carefully setting down his own empty cup. It's the giving, the love We have for others We must focus on—not garnering their praise, he reflected. To serve with Our love for their best interests and happiness—not for their recognition of Our efforts or to garner their love in return—that love is most important.
Shouka relaxed as he stood and bowed, collecting their tea set and setting it aside to be washed by the servants in the morning. "That's good. I'll be seeing myself home now, once I check Shuurei one last time to say goodnight. Thank you for your time." He started towards the door, but felt a hand tug his sleeve.
"We-I thank you for the tea," came the soft, but confident voice, gratefully acknowledging his teacher's help.
The patient guide patted the outstretched hand in reassurance a final time, smiling as he nodded. "Any time."
Ryuuki leaned back in his chair, staring around the room at all the effort everyone had gone to to provide him with what he (and Shuurei, of course) needed. None of the carpenters or cooks or guards had asked for anything in return, at least that he'd been alerted to. Granted, they'd been ordered to perform their duties, but they could just as easily have dawdled or put in a poor effort. He doubted any of them had received any kind of recognition for their work, other than the perfunctory "pride for being chosen to serve the Emperor" excuse that was usually dragged out.
Coming to a decision, the Emperor removed his ornate over robe and hung it over a chair in the next room before he awkwardly tied his long hair up as best he could.
"Do it with love," he repeated to himself with quiet determination.
He confidently reached for the flour.
Seiran smiled to himself as he leaned against the doorjamb just outside the kitchen, happy to serve and see those close to him happy as well. Two dozen pails of water were lined up in organized fashion on the floor beside him.
Less than 30 seconds later, Ryuuki again proved he'd never disappoint, and Seiran put out the first blaze of the night on a turnip that had magically appeared out of thin air…
/end Part 04