"Wri-ting lessons?"
"Yes. You'll be taking them soon…"
Yao seemed beyond happy, his hand molding with Kiku's, pure excitement becoming an adherent.
"But what is wri-ting?"
The gorgeous man stopped a moment, kneeling upon the dirt and inserting his fingers into those little grains, putting together a statement in well composed lines.
"This is writing."
"Oh…" Kiku was drawn into those prefect cuts made into the earth.
Yao rose and they continued to walk.
"And I learn to do that?"
The other nodded and the boy's lips grew into a sunny smile, and soon after realization came into his mind and exited through his mouth, almost as if this day was far too good to be tangible. "Where is Mr. Arthur Kirkland?"
"He's…caught-up. So he asked me to come and get you."
"Caught-up?"
"Busy."
"Mmm…" Kiku's fingers fondled the elder's softly. "Yao, why I learn to dance?" The Japanese child knew of his future, and was slowly coming to terms with adopting that white face and a body draped in silks, but he did not know why he was given such lessons.
"Dancing is pretty." The man answered simply, a grin painted demurely upon his face.
"Because dancing is pretty?"
The beauty nodded.
"And the music is pretty too?"
"Yes."
"The wri-ting is pretty?"
"The prettiest."
"Can you do those?"
"Yes, little one. I can."
"Then that means that you are pretty…I want to be pretty al-so."
"You are pretty Kiku."
"I am?"
"Of course you are!"
In that moment, Yao could not help but fill his heart with adoration finding Kiku nothing but endearing. It was no wonder why Arthur was in such a good mood after spending even a moment's time with him.
The lovely man took the boy into the basket his arms had fashioned and held him while progressing forward, a miniscule gasp of surprise slipping from the child's mouth.
Yao loved Kiku…
The boy held onto the other's neck, savoring that closeness as if it was the sweetest of sugar.
When they arrived home, Yao allowed Kiku to the floor, his small form moving away only slightly.
"Kiku, I have something to attend to…Why don't you go keep Hong company?"
"Al-right. I see you later."
"I'll see you later."
The boy moved along that long flight of stairs, taking it upwards onto the second level, and moving up more steps to the third until he found himself inside that hallway. His toes compelled him, guiding him to his companion's room. The screen was nearly torn from the frame and the Japanese boy came inside, the unsuspecting one's attention drawn to the intruder as a fish to water.
Hong sat in the center of his room, a wet brush in hand with an ink stone at his side, as well as a small bowl of water.
"Hello…"
"Hello, Hong!" His breath had nearly been exhausted, yet he still retained all his excitement. Kiku sat across from him after a few paces, a grin etched upon his face. "You know what Yao said to me?"
"No…What did he say? Was it something good?"
A nod. "He said that we are to be having wri-ting lesson."
"Writing? Did Arthur say it was alright?"
"I do not know, but Yao said we having wri-ting lesson, so may-be he say al-right."
The opposite child smiled a moment, adding a few more lines upon his paper.
"That's good…I want to know how to read." An additional scratch. "Do you want to draw?"
"Yes, please! That is very good."
Hong offered the Japanese boy a fresh sheet of rice paper as well as a new brush, one slightly thinner than his own. "We can share ink."
"Thank you."
Kiku began a portrait of Yao, as so many artists had in previous years, perhaps even months. An ocean of thought sat within his mind, screaming livid messages as the brush created those careful strokes, joyous at the promise to write, and blissful to be consider pretty by someone so perfect. His inevitable fate couldn't even put a restraint upon his spirit, flying so comfortably amongst the clouds.
"You're good at drawing."
"Thank you." The kokeshi doll replied.