A/N: I am DONE! It's over. You may not be satisfied with the ending, but I can't continue on. It'd go far downhill from here, and I think I managed to wrench some meaning out of this piddly little fic. So enjoy.
Woo! This fic is old enough to drink! (hee, sorry, couldn't resist...)
Thanks a billion to everybody who reviewed - I'm glad you enjoyed this, and I'm not sorry at all that I'm ending it here. The rest is left to your imagination. Waha!
***
The headache that had given Kurama no trouble the day before was greatly amplified by every snore thundering out of Kuwabara's throat that morning. He rolled over, burying his face in the pallet, and gently probed at the lessening lump at the back of his head. All the prior day's activity and exhaustion had left him sore and in quite a fair amount of much more active pain.
He was allowed to stay in the palace with Kuwabara even though he'd lost his match. And if he'd stayed anywhere else, he would have raised suspicions. However, the two finalists were guests of the prince, and the third set the precedent. It was the prince's decree that he stay to watch the final match. Kurama grinned though his bruised lips raised mild protest. Final match nothing.
Toshii had beaten him in the ring. They had watched as Kuwabara had beaten some talented, arrogant roughneck by the name of Shishiwakamaru and left together. Toshii had known how tired Kurama was. Had known how he would feel in the morning. Had known exactly how to work the knots out of tense and aching muscles so blood flowed hot and healing beneath Kurama's skin. It was a vaguely healing touch, and Kurama thought of no sexual pretense. Toshii allowed him to fall asleep where he had collapsed. Toshii had asked Puu to bring food for them in his room. Kurama had opened his eyes to a tray of meat and fruit and returned Toshii's favor while they ate. And then he'd slipped to his room before Kuwabara could notice his absence.
While Kurama's back gave him no problem, every extension throbbed dully. His legs ached, unused to running for prolonged periods after days of only walking. His arms, particularly his sword arm, screamed with every movement after enduring blow after jarring blow. And the headache that had vacationed when adrenaline muscled in had returned full force to make up for that little blip. He was actually quite glad he had no more battles to win. Or lose.
Kurama slowly rolled over and hoisted himself up onto his elbows. His vision swam so much that nausea caused him to lay back again. He closed his eyes and blearily wondered why Kuwabara's snoring wasn't as loud as it had been.
*
Apples. Water and freshness and tangible autumn. Kurama opened his eyes against bright sunlight, blinking rapidly to clear his vision and adapt to the light. Through his eyelids, the day was red. The room smelled of apples, over the smell of sleep and the ever-present dirt-musk of Kuwabara.
"It's not like you to sleep in," a familiar voice murmured. "You were always up before the sun. Don't tell me you're getting lazy."
Kurama threw an arm over his eyes. "You're as witty as you ever were, Highness." The use of an old nickname was mildly satisfying. "Damn you for being able to move."
"You had a hard day. Eat something; it's almost midday."
"Yes, mother." Kurama held out a hand and Toshii dropped an apple into it. He bit in and was surprised at the quality of it. The skin was cold and crisp, like it had been picked some morning where frost was coming. But, Kurama reminded himself, royalty had access to ungodly luxuries such as ice in summer. He sat up and leaned over his crossed legs to eat the rest of it, getting used to a vertical position.
"Where are you going after tomorrow?" Toshii asked softly. Kurama had yet to look at him.
Kurama shrugged. "I don't know. There are no guarantees, are there?" He turned to look at Toshii. The smaller man was sitting on Kuwabara's straightened pallet, legs efficiently crossed and his elbows on his knees. He looked not much worse for wear, his unmarred expression utterly unreadable. "Are you going to let him win?"
Toshii considered this. "Not in so few words. If he earns it."
Kurama studied his apple core, his chin on his hand. "To earn it would be to beat you."
"I know that."
"Do you think he can?"
"No." This was not bragging, but an honest estimate.
"So your sister shall not marry," Kurama murmured, taking another apple from the tray he found by his side and biting in. It was cold.
"I am going to speak with him tonight. What he tells me will determine whether or not she marries."
Kurama swallowed. Without half the gravity the question required, he asked, "Where am I going after tomorrow?"
"That also depends upon Kuwabara."
Kurama smiled a little. "You're putting a lot upon his shoulders."
"Yes." Toshii had not moved, but his eyes darted to his lap at that moment, a flicker of uncertainty. There was quite a load upon Kuwabara, and the half-wit unknowingly bore it to its breaking point. But this was a situation Toshii knew not how to handle himself. This way, the blame could be placed on a lug with a dream of marrying a princess. On a thief with a conscience.
"Hey." Toshii looked up again and saw Kurama smiling wearily at him. He raised an eyebrow. Kurama set the apple core by the other one and reached out, resting his hand on Toshii's knee. "Sounds good to me."
*
Kuwabara was sitting in the courtyard, staring at his boots. Kurama found him this way and surmised he'd been like that since he'd gotten up that morning. The brute jumped a foot when Kurama greeted him.
"You snuck up on me!"
"Nervous?" Kurama asked, sliding down to sit beside him. Kuwabara nodded, smiling weakly. Kurama smiled back. "Well, you know -he- doesn't want to marry the princess, so what have you got to worry about?"
Kuwabara stared at him as if he were an idiot. "A lot! He doesn't want -me- to marry her, that's the thing."
"So long as you understand that." Kurama's smile never faltered, and he reached up to pat Kuwabara between the shoulders. "But hey, you've still got your lucky nail, right?"
Kuwabara reached inside his tunic and pulled the thing out. He fingered the bent metal as he did the fine plates at mealtimes. As if it might break beneath his rough hands. "Yeah. D'you know, it saved my life?"
Kurama leaned on his knees. "Is that so?"
"Yeah. See, yesterday when I was fighting that Shishi guy, he caught me off guard." Kuwabara laughed softly in some semblance of playing it off. "And he was going to gut me but this thing came off its chain and got through the hole in his faceplate where his eyes were. I don't think I'd of won if he'd of had both eyes to fight me with. So it's -really- lucky." He smiled down at the charm in his hands and stuffed it back under his shirt. "Pop. Just like that."
Kurama knew Kuwabara didn't like his fighting style, didn't like battle without honor. And the disability a supposedly lucky charm inflicted upon his opponent left Kuwabara's victory with the stigma of dishonesty. Worse, the brutality of the injury was disgusting. Kuwabara's muscles shuddered under his skin. He really was a kitten sometimes. Kurama had always liked him for that. "You shouldn't let it bother you so much. Think instead about why you entered this contest in the first place."
Kuwabara grinned at that. "Princess. A princess for my wife. I didn't think I'd get this close."
"You told me she was pretty."
"She's beautiful." Kuwabara laughed softly. "But if you see her you'll know she's his sister. It's so obvious when you know." He put his chin on his hand. "But if you don't know you don't see it. Nobody else has figured it out."
"I think we can chalk that up to the stupidity of the common man," Kurama replied, his tone coming easy. "And anyway, he moves too fast for them to get a good look."
Kuwabara groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Don't remind me. I'm as good as dead. I can't move that fast!"
Kurama smiled. "You don't have to. You just have to be able to see -him- moving." He paused a moment. "And take your damn' armor off or you'll never have a chance." Kuwabara gave him a horrified look, but he stared into it until his companion relented. He smiled. "You're too honest for your own good."
Kuwabara grinned. "And you lie too much."
The conversation dropped away then, as the two sat on their bench in the courtyard. The sun shone brightly, birds sang in the trees, and various beautiful people drifted about in their aloof and mannered ways. Thieves they were, among jewels in fine clothes, each uncertain but ultimately comfortable in their respective niches. There were nerves, but no panic. There were thoughts of tomorrow, but life fundamentally in the present. And there was trust borne of thousands of days with only one another, and friendship deeper than bone. Toshii saw that, and understood as best he could.
The decision rested on Kuwabara's shoulders from the very start, the only true knight of the three.
Woo! This fic is old enough to drink! (hee, sorry, couldn't resist...)
Thanks a billion to everybody who reviewed - I'm glad you enjoyed this, and I'm not sorry at all that I'm ending it here. The rest is left to your imagination. Waha!
***
The headache that had given Kurama no trouble the day before was greatly amplified by every snore thundering out of Kuwabara's throat that morning. He rolled over, burying his face in the pallet, and gently probed at the lessening lump at the back of his head. All the prior day's activity and exhaustion had left him sore and in quite a fair amount of much more active pain.
He was allowed to stay in the palace with Kuwabara even though he'd lost his match. And if he'd stayed anywhere else, he would have raised suspicions. However, the two finalists were guests of the prince, and the third set the precedent. It was the prince's decree that he stay to watch the final match. Kurama grinned though his bruised lips raised mild protest. Final match nothing.
Toshii had beaten him in the ring. They had watched as Kuwabara had beaten some talented, arrogant roughneck by the name of Shishiwakamaru and left together. Toshii had known how tired Kurama was. Had known how he would feel in the morning. Had known exactly how to work the knots out of tense and aching muscles so blood flowed hot and healing beneath Kurama's skin. It was a vaguely healing touch, and Kurama thought of no sexual pretense. Toshii allowed him to fall asleep where he had collapsed. Toshii had asked Puu to bring food for them in his room. Kurama had opened his eyes to a tray of meat and fruit and returned Toshii's favor while they ate. And then he'd slipped to his room before Kuwabara could notice his absence.
While Kurama's back gave him no problem, every extension throbbed dully. His legs ached, unused to running for prolonged periods after days of only walking. His arms, particularly his sword arm, screamed with every movement after enduring blow after jarring blow. And the headache that had vacationed when adrenaline muscled in had returned full force to make up for that little blip. He was actually quite glad he had no more battles to win. Or lose.
Kurama slowly rolled over and hoisted himself up onto his elbows. His vision swam so much that nausea caused him to lay back again. He closed his eyes and blearily wondered why Kuwabara's snoring wasn't as loud as it had been.
*
Apples. Water and freshness and tangible autumn. Kurama opened his eyes against bright sunlight, blinking rapidly to clear his vision and adapt to the light. Through his eyelids, the day was red. The room smelled of apples, over the smell of sleep and the ever-present dirt-musk of Kuwabara.
"It's not like you to sleep in," a familiar voice murmured. "You were always up before the sun. Don't tell me you're getting lazy."
Kurama threw an arm over his eyes. "You're as witty as you ever were, Highness." The use of an old nickname was mildly satisfying. "Damn you for being able to move."
"You had a hard day. Eat something; it's almost midday."
"Yes, mother." Kurama held out a hand and Toshii dropped an apple into it. He bit in and was surprised at the quality of it. The skin was cold and crisp, like it had been picked some morning where frost was coming. But, Kurama reminded himself, royalty had access to ungodly luxuries such as ice in summer. He sat up and leaned over his crossed legs to eat the rest of it, getting used to a vertical position.
"Where are you going after tomorrow?" Toshii asked softly. Kurama had yet to look at him.
Kurama shrugged. "I don't know. There are no guarantees, are there?" He turned to look at Toshii. The smaller man was sitting on Kuwabara's straightened pallet, legs efficiently crossed and his elbows on his knees. He looked not much worse for wear, his unmarred expression utterly unreadable. "Are you going to let him win?"
Toshii considered this. "Not in so few words. If he earns it."
Kurama studied his apple core, his chin on his hand. "To earn it would be to beat you."
"I know that."
"Do you think he can?"
"No." This was not bragging, but an honest estimate.
"So your sister shall not marry," Kurama murmured, taking another apple from the tray he found by his side and biting in. It was cold.
"I am going to speak with him tonight. What he tells me will determine whether or not she marries."
Kurama swallowed. Without half the gravity the question required, he asked, "Where am I going after tomorrow?"
"That also depends upon Kuwabara."
Kurama smiled a little. "You're putting a lot upon his shoulders."
"Yes." Toshii had not moved, but his eyes darted to his lap at that moment, a flicker of uncertainty. There was quite a load upon Kuwabara, and the half-wit unknowingly bore it to its breaking point. But this was a situation Toshii knew not how to handle himself. This way, the blame could be placed on a lug with a dream of marrying a princess. On a thief with a conscience.
"Hey." Toshii looked up again and saw Kurama smiling wearily at him. He raised an eyebrow. Kurama set the apple core by the other one and reached out, resting his hand on Toshii's knee. "Sounds good to me."
*
Kuwabara was sitting in the courtyard, staring at his boots. Kurama found him this way and surmised he'd been like that since he'd gotten up that morning. The brute jumped a foot when Kurama greeted him.
"You snuck up on me!"
"Nervous?" Kurama asked, sliding down to sit beside him. Kuwabara nodded, smiling weakly. Kurama smiled back. "Well, you know -he- doesn't want to marry the princess, so what have you got to worry about?"
Kuwabara stared at him as if he were an idiot. "A lot! He doesn't want -me- to marry her, that's the thing."
"So long as you understand that." Kurama's smile never faltered, and he reached up to pat Kuwabara between the shoulders. "But hey, you've still got your lucky nail, right?"
Kuwabara reached inside his tunic and pulled the thing out. He fingered the bent metal as he did the fine plates at mealtimes. As if it might break beneath his rough hands. "Yeah. D'you know, it saved my life?"
Kurama leaned on his knees. "Is that so?"
"Yeah. See, yesterday when I was fighting that Shishi guy, he caught me off guard." Kuwabara laughed softly in some semblance of playing it off. "And he was going to gut me but this thing came off its chain and got through the hole in his faceplate where his eyes were. I don't think I'd of won if he'd of had both eyes to fight me with. So it's -really- lucky." He smiled down at the charm in his hands and stuffed it back under his shirt. "Pop. Just like that."
Kurama knew Kuwabara didn't like his fighting style, didn't like battle without honor. And the disability a supposedly lucky charm inflicted upon his opponent left Kuwabara's victory with the stigma of dishonesty. Worse, the brutality of the injury was disgusting. Kuwabara's muscles shuddered under his skin. He really was a kitten sometimes. Kurama had always liked him for that. "You shouldn't let it bother you so much. Think instead about why you entered this contest in the first place."
Kuwabara grinned at that. "Princess. A princess for my wife. I didn't think I'd get this close."
"You told me she was pretty."
"She's beautiful." Kuwabara laughed softly. "But if you see her you'll know she's his sister. It's so obvious when you know." He put his chin on his hand. "But if you don't know you don't see it. Nobody else has figured it out."
"I think we can chalk that up to the stupidity of the common man," Kurama replied, his tone coming easy. "And anyway, he moves too fast for them to get a good look."
Kuwabara groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Don't remind me. I'm as good as dead. I can't move that fast!"
Kurama smiled. "You don't have to. You just have to be able to see -him- moving." He paused a moment. "And take your damn' armor off or you'll never have a chance." Kuwabara gave him a horrified look, but he stared into it until his companion relented. He smiled. "You're too honest for your own good."
Kuwabara grinned. "And you lie too much."
The conversation dropped away then, as the two sat on their bench in the courtyard. The sun shone brightly, birds sang in the trees, and various beautiful people drifted about in their aloof and mannered ways. Thieves they were, among jewels in fine clothes, each uncertain but ultimately comfortable in their respective niches. There were nerves, but no panic. There were thoughts of tomorrow, but life fundamentally in the present. And there was trust borne of thousands of days with only one another, and friendship deeper than bone. Toshii saw that, and understood as best he could.
The decision rested on Kuwabara's shoulders from the very start, the only true knight of the three.