~*~*~*~

~*~*~*~

Nuriko winced. "Itai..."

He'd been propped up into a sitting position for the application of the bandages, now sat a little unsteadily at the edge of the bed, his thin legs dangling loosely over the side, his small white feet pressed against the thick carpet. Hotohori watched as the four men moved swiftly around him, as they wrapped thick stretches of white fabric around his chest and arms, as they dabbed tiny splotches of some salve-like solution onto the more dire of the wounds. None of them spoke as they worked, and yet they moved in an eerie kind of synchronization, as if they'd done this before so many times that they no longer needed vocal communication to function.

"Don't hurt him," the young emperor said sternly, watching as Nuriko winced, yet again, as a roving hand struck against one of his many wounds.

Two of the men paused, glanced up at him with dark glances that clearly said, "This is our work, not yours. Leave us alone."
Hotohori took a short step backwards, let the men continue their work.

Finally, the bandages had all been applied, and Nuriko was allowed to lie down again. It was only then, as the men lowered him carefully onto his back, that Hotohori realized that the young seishi was still clad in the torn, muddied trousers he'd been wearing in the dungeon. And that, of course, would not do. Once the men had left and Nuriko was lying comfortably on his back, gazing up at the soft canopy of the bed, Hotohori turned and strode to the nearby closet, began to shuffle through it for something that might fit. Of course, the young seishi was a great deal smaller than he himself was...but, surely, there must be something in here... While roving in the back of the closet, his hand brushed against something soft and silken and he paused, drew his fingers back into the light.

The breath seemed to catch in his lungs. Of course...he'd nearly forgotten.

Soft, silken fabric of a powdery blue, crisscrossed stylishly at the neckline, cinched at the waist with a simple sash of a darker, matching blue. Despite what it had been intended for, it looked about the right size, and so he drew it out, gazed at it more fully in the fading evening light. It was, quite possibly, the most beautiful article of clothing he owned...and, it wasn't even intended for his own wear. He remembered very clearly the day his mother had presented this to him--he'd only been ten or eleven years old, had thought it was the most startlingly perfect thing he'd ever seen...and the thought that one day, his empress would wear it...it had nearly set his flesh afire. This silken robe had been his everlasting proof that one day he would have someone who loved him, that one day he would not be alone anymore...that one day, there would be more to his life than being emperor, more to his life than just affairs of state and politics. When he was younger, when the nights stretched out before him and the loneliness was so intense that he couldn't sleep...he would sneak to this closet, sit down in the corner and press the silken fabric to his cheek. It was a promise, a reassurance...one day, Heika, it said. One day, you'll have someone to love you.

Glancing over at Nuriko, remembering the man's words in the garden...he couldn't think of a more fitting person to wear it.

He moved to the side of the bed, stood there for a long moment in silence. Nuriko looked better, at least, now that all the ugly red welts had been covered, now that the healing salve had been smeared over the worser of his wounds...but, his features were still tensed in pain, his breathing coming softly, weakly...but, he did look better. After a moment, those soft violet eyes slid away from the high canopy of the bed, and the pale face turned, gazed up at him for a long, silent moment.

"Hotohori," Nuriko whispered. His voice seemed stronger, somehow, less fragile, less broken...but, his lips barely moved as he spoke. "Thank you...for finding me."
He considered sitting down on the edge of the bed, but, decided that it would jar the boy too much, instead lowered himself carefully into the chair just beside it. "Please," he said quietly. "Don't thank me."
Nuriko drew a soft breath, let it out slowly...winced as if the breath pained him. "Why...not?"
"Because. This is my fault. My advisors were acting on what they thought I would want...they did this to you because they thought it was what I wanted...do you understand? It's my fault this happened to you. My fault."
Nuriko shook his head slightly. "No...not your fault...Hotohori-sama. Mine."
"Nuriko..."
"No. My fault. I...entered the harem...knowing what could happen." Hotohori opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, Nuriko had lifted a thin, bandaged arm, was pointing at the silken robe still dangling from his fingers. "Sore wa?"
The young emperor glanced down at it as if having just remembered it was there, rose carefully to his feet. "It's for you," he explained softly. "Can you..." He paused, flushed a bit. "Can you...put it on by yourself?"
Nuriko managed a nod, spent a moment struggling to push himself up into a sitting position. Finally, he lay back weakly, closed his eyes for a moment in exhaustion. "Help," he whispered.

Hotohori leaned down, placed a strong arm at the base of the young seishi's back, and helped him to sit up. Once he had, Nuriko spent a long moment breathing heavily, slumping forward like a rag doll...and then, he straightened his back, sat up fully and lifted his arms. Careful not to touch against any of the bandages, Hotohori lifted the robe, slid the first sleeve very gently over Nuriko's waiting arm. Next, he leaned forward, tried to stretch the fabric to accomodate the other arm...but, was finally forced to grip the arm itself, place it carefully within the sleeve. Once that was done, it was a simple matter of cinching the robe at the waist, smoothing the fabric down over Nuriko's legs. The cloth itself stretched down a bit past his knees...but, there was, Hotohori realized, still the matter of the muddied trousers. He considered asking Nuriko to do it himself for a moment, but of course he knew that there wasn't much chance of that happening, so he pushed the man gently onto his back, drew in a deep breath, and set to work.

Despite the fact that he knew that Nuriko was a man, that the fellow seishi's smooth, flat chest was more than proof of his true gender, he still felt a little awkward as he tugged at the waistline of the trousers, as he carefully disentangled them from the thin legs, pulled them the rest of the way off. Nuriko was a man...but, his mind still registered him as a female, and the thought of doing this sort of thing to a woman...it was despicable, perverted, terribly ungentlemanly. Nuriko didn't even seem to notice what he was doing, however, and so he felt a little better...but, he let out an audible sigh of relief once the task was over, sat back and pressed his hands over his eyes.

"Hotohori-sama?"
He started, sat up straighter in the chair and lifted his hands from his eyes. Nuriko still lay weakly on his back, slim arms resting limply at his sides...but, his eyes were open again, staring up at the silken canopy overhead. The young emperor dragged his chair a little closer to the bed, noticed for the first time just how well the soft blue robe fit Nuriko, that it seemed almost to have been custom-made for the young seishi...he put the thought out of his head, however, as the smaller man drew in a long breath, seemed about ready to say something.

"The tailor," Nuriko began softly, "didn't like me...because I wouldn't let him see me...without my clothes on." He smiled slightly, drew in another difficult breath. "Too many years...as a woman...didn't feel right...to let him look at me. He got angry...had to measure me with...my clothes on...then subtract the extra...fabric..." He trailed off, drew a few deep breaths...then smiled again. "Made him angry...extra work. That's why...since you asked."
Something heavy sank into his throat, made it difficult to speak for a long moment. When he finally did, his voice was low, anguished. "Nuriko," he said plaintively, "why didn't you fight back? You...you could've gotten away from them--you could've fought back. Why didn't you? Why did you just let them take you?"
Nuriko closed his eyes, smiled almost wistfully. "Couldn't...disobey...the emperor's orders," he whispered. "Besides...I knew...you'd come."
"But, I didn't come! I didn't come until it was too late!"
"You still came...Hotohori-sama. You still...came." The man shifted slightly in the bed, turned carefully over onto his side and tried to clutch onto the edge of the blankets. Seeing him straining, the young emperor rose to his feet, bent over the bed. A moment later, he'd taken the soft, warm blankets into his hands, spread them carefully over Nuriko's body, tugged them up to the man's chin. Nuriko smiled appreciatively, let his cheek sink softly into the thick puff of the pillow, and closed his eyes. "Tired," he whispered.

Hotohori nodded, sank wearily back into the chair and folded his hands over his lap. "Sleep," he said softly. "I'll be right here."
Eyes still closed, the young seishi smiled. "Thank you...Hotohori-sama."

He slept.

~*~*~*~

"No. That's no excuse." He pounded his fist down hard on the table, nearly upturned a row of half-filled wine glasses. "I want to know why this happened. Most of all--" His eyes flared. "--I want to know why you felt it necessary to completely usurp my authority and do this without even consulting me first!"

The oldest of the advisors bowed his head slightly, folded his hands respectfully before him. "Heika," he began slowly, "although you, of course, hold ultimate authority over all the land...you can't be troubled with each and every little decision, can you? We merely acted as law commanded, and as we were sure you would've wanted us to."
Hotohori glared at the man. "No. No, I don't believe that. There was a reason why this was kept from me. There's more to it than what you're telling me...now, explain to me why you did this, or you can explain it to me after you've spent a few weeks in the dungeons!"
The man made a smoothing gesture with his hands, smiled placidly. "Now, now, Heika," he soothed. "Please, calm yourself. I realize you're angry, but we're not at fault here."

The young emperor frowned. "You're not," he echoed flatly.

"No," the man continued, still offering that maddeningly-calm smile, "we're not. If anyone is at fault, it is the shichiseishi Nuriko himself. Had he not deceived you and all of us in the first place, he'd have never been in the position to be punished as he was. We merely acted as law commanded...and, frankly, I believe it is a vast error in your own judgment, Heika, that you've undone the judgment of law by taking Nuriko from the dungeons and caring for him in your own chambers." He took a short step forward, lowered his voice slightly. "You realize, Heika, that it doesn't take much for the members of the court to gossip...and, well, the emperor having a man in his quarters, letting him sleep in his own bed...it's not speaking well for you, Your Majesty."
Hotohori blinked at him. "Not speaking well for me... What are you saying? That the court thinks that Nuriko and I...that we..." He let out an angry huff of air, pressed his palms firmly down onto the table top. "That's ridiculous. Surely they can't actually believe such a thing."
The man lifted his shoulders into a slight shrug, gazed at him almost patronizingly. "Speaking very frankly, Heika-sama...I'm beginning to wonder about such things myself."
"What?"
"Well, Heika," the man continued quietly, "you have been spending a great amount of time with that...man recently. And, if what I've heard was correct, you were well aware that he was not a young lady when he accompanied you to your birthday celebration. Frankly, I can't help but wonder...particularly since you seem to show no interest at all in any of the other harem women. Before, we always dismissed your disinterest because of your insistence that your love was Suzaku no Miko...but, Heika...the Miko has come, and yet, you still have no taken an empress."
"Please, Heika," interjected another of the men, rising to his feet and joining the other, "distance yourself from the shichiseishi Nuriko now, before you lose the respect of your people!"
"Yes," the older agreed firmly. "If you do not, you risk losing more than you may ever be able to get back, and frankly...in such dire times as these, with Kutou pressing at our borders...you cannot afford to lose the country's respect. It'll plunge us into chaos, make it all the easier for Kutou to invade...Heika, you must understand that all that we've done, we've done for you. Konan cannot afford this!"

"Put him back in the dungeons," the second insisted. "If you wish, he won't be abused anymore...but, you need to break away from him before he can pollute your mind any further."
Hothori frowned. "Pollute my mind? What in the name of Suzaku are you talking about??"
"Heika," the older said quietly, "it's well-known that these...people can be bad influences on others...and, on someone like yourself, who is lonely, showing no interest in the beautiful women around you...it makes it all the easier. And, someone like Nuriko, who looks so much like a woman...it's no wonder you've found yourself falling in love with him."
Hotohori rose to his feet, slammed his palms down hard on the table. "I am not," he bellowed, "in love with Nuriko! And, I'm not going to put him back in the dungeons, send him away, or do anything else you want me to do! He will stay where he is, in my chambers, until he is well, and after that, he'll go back to his rooms and never be touched by you or anyone else again! In fact," he continued in a lower, harsher voice, "if I ever--ever--hear of anyone hurting or disrespecting him, I won't hesitate to take extreme measures against them. What's holding this country together is Suzaku no Miko, and the hope that--with her help--we'll call Suzaku and bring peace to the land. Nuriko is part of that--he is a Suzaku shichiseishi. He was chosen by Suzaku. Do you understand that? He was chosen! If he's good enough for Suzaku, he should be good enough for you." He let out a heavy breath of air, sank down into his chair. "Get out of here. I want to be alone."
"But, Heika--"
"GO!"
The advisors exchanged worried glances with one another, seemed about to protest again...but, then they filed from the room in silence, shuffled out onto the palace walkway, and shut the door behind them. Hotohori sat there for a long moment, his hands clenched together on the table, still shaking slightly from the anger, the disbelief, the outrage. It was just...unbelievable. That the people he trusted had done this...that they'd taken an innocent man--a friend--and put him through this hell, locked him away, beaten him, hurt him so badly that he could barely move...that they had done this made him so angry that he wanted, very badly, to hit something. The anger balled up in his muscles, clenched in his jaw, made every inch of his body tense and almost painfully-tight. Finally, he let out an angry breath, rose to his feet and stalked out of the room. Nuriko was sleeping when he entered, and didn't wake up even as he moved swiftly over the carpet, swung open the closet doors, and drew the sword out from within. As he stalked back to the door, however, he heard a soft exhalation of breath from the bed, listened to the slight rustle of shifting blankets.

"Hotohori-sama?"
He paused almost guiltily, turned to face the other seishi. "Hai?"
Nuriko was still lying on his side in the bed, the covers dragged to his chin. He frowned a bit, a trickle of confusion creeping into his eyes. "Sword?" he murmured. "Why?"
The young emperor glanced down at the slim length of metal in his hands as if just noticing its presence, sighed softly. "I'm going to practice," he explained quietly. "In the gardens. It...relaxes me."
Nuriko nodded slightly, tugged the blankets more closely to his chin and curled up beneath them. Taking the action for a dismissal, the young emperor began to move back towards the door, dragging the slender blade along with him...but stopped, again, as the other man's soft voice met his ears.

"Hotohori-sama?"
He turned again, saw that Nuriko's eyes were closed. "Hm?"
"The walls," he murmured, pointing to the far wall, the one that adjoined with the conference room. "Very thin." He smiled, softly. "You can hear every word."
Hotohori felt his eyes go wide. "Nuriko..."
"It's all right," he whispered. "Thank you...for defending me." He smiled. "Baka advisors. Can't believe they thought you were in love...with me."

"Nuriko..."
"Iie, Hotohori-sama." Again, that soft smile. " Daijobu. Go practice. You need to relax...ne?"
Suddenly unable to think of anything else to say, Hotohori left the room. He walked so quickly down to the gardens that a few surprised maids were forced to leap out of his way to avoid being struck, and it was only once he reached the soft, fragrant depths that he relaxed, breathed more softly, was able to walk without stomping.