~*~*~*~
He'd never been so exhausted in his
life.
He'd been in the gardens for hours,
moving silently through the familiar cuts and slashes of his sword routines,
completely ignoring the world around him...feeling only the warm tension of his
own muscles, the comfortable weight of the hilt in his hand...the intricate
dance of the sword sweeping out before him.
When the world came back into focus around him, the stars were shining
brightly in the sky and he was having trouble finding breath. It wasn't until he glanced down at himself
that he saw that he was both sweating and shaking...and that his arms were so
heavy that he was having difficulty even holding the sword. He didn't know how much time had passed...but,
it was nearly midnight by the time he stumbled into his chambers, tugged off
his boots, and began to make his way towards the closet to change into his
night clothes.
He paused on his way, the sound of
something rustling catching his attention...and let out a soft sigh, remembering
that Nuriko lay sleeping in his bed. On
impulse, he walked to the edge of the bed, gazed down at the smaller seishi for
a long moment, and felt his heart twisting again at the sight of so many
wounds, so much pain... Nuriko was
bathed in a cool wash of moonlight, his features smoothed and innocent in
sleep, the breath slipping softly through his parted lips in a gentle, lulling
rhythm. The bandages, stained a light
crimson from the sticky blood beneath them, clung to his pale flesh, spanned most
of his chest, arms, legs...but, the soft blue gown covered most of them, rested
softly against the slim, slender shoulders, the thin arms...the flat,
modestly-muscled chest. Despite the
state of his body, Nuriko looked strangely peaceful as he lay there, eyes
lightly closed, lashes flickering slightly beneath the weight of his
dreams...and Hotohori suddenly found himself sitting there on the edge of the
bed, gazing down at the smaller man in a kind of awed fascination.
How strong was this man? This man, who'd spent so long living someone
else's life...this man who'd suffered through taunts and ridicule without even
a complaint, who'd let himself be taken, imprisoned, beaten, all to adhere to
royal commands...this man who'd never once looked on him with anything but love
and respect. This man who still had the
will to smile, even consumed in what must've been a flood of agonizing
pain. How strong was this man??
Stronger than I, the young
emperor concluded silently. Gods...so
much stronger than I.
After spending another silent moment
perched on the edge of the soft mattress, Hotohori rose to his feet, moved to
the corner of the room and tugged open his closet. A few moments later, he'd drawn out a soft white night shirt and
was tugging it on over his head, shrugging easily out of the heavy robes of his
station. He felt a bit strange,
changing in the same room as Nuriko...but, why should he? After all...Nuriko was, indeed, a man, and
had certainly seen whatever he had to show before...but, for some reason, the
image of the young seishi as a woman still lingered in his mind, colored his
behavior, tinged his reactions. He
paused for a moment, the soft cloth of the nightshirt still drooping over his
head, and felt a small frown trickle onto his lips.
Was that why he felt so inclined to
protect Nuriko, even now? Because he
still thought of him as female?
Hotohori shook his head and finished
dressing, and a few moments later was walking silently from the room, leaving
Nuriko sleeping peacefully behind him.
Once outside, in the stuffy warmth of
his outer chamber, he sighed, let his shoulders slump. Last night, he'd spent the night out here,
sprawled out on the soft, comfortable cushions of the sofa...but, it was small,
it was cramped, and he was much too weary to even consider spreading the
blankets over the cushions, scrunching his legs up to accommodate the small
couch. He sighed again. Where in the name of Suzaku was he going to
sleep? He considered, briefly, curling
up in the middle of the floor--he was certainly tired enough to--but eventually
decided against it, thinking of the pain he'd be in tomorrow after spending the
night on such a hard surface. A dark
shadow flitted into his mind.
Of course, his pain would be nothing
compared to Nuriko's...and, after all, he was the emperor...sleeping on
the floor wouldn't kill him...
He shook his head, sending soft waves of
chestnut hair flooding over his shoulders.
No. No, not the floor. A slight smile twisted at his lips. Besides...if any of his advisors were to
walk in tomorrow morning, catch the emperor of Konan curled up on the carpet
like a puppy...they would most definitely not be pleased.
Not that he minded if they were unhappy
or not, considering what they'd done...but, regardless, it didn't seem like a
good idea. He took a few steps forward,
grabbed a blanket up from the couch and moved silently to the door. A few moments later, he was out in the cool
wash of darkness, the soft fragrances of flowers and river water rising up from
the distance, mingling together in his nostrils...making him breathe deeply,
freely. It was a beautiful night. Clear, moonless sky...bright, twinkling
pinpricks of light, spreading out in a midnight blanket above him...and the
wind--soft...cool...a breeze, a caress...it felt wonderful.
He had a fleeting image of himself lying
in a puddle of blankets out here on the walkway, but forced himself to put it
out of his head almost immediately. It
would certainly be a pleasant night's sleep...but, if sleeping on the floor in
his outer chambers was a less-than-wise idea, sleeping on the hard wood of the
palace walkway was even worse.
But...if not in his chambers...if not
out here...then, where?
He'd been wandering aimlessly down the
walkway for a few minutes, breathing deeply and enjoying the soft scents of the
night, when...abruptly...a thought struck into him. He paused for a moment in the center of the walkway, thinking,
considering...felt a slow nod twist at his neck.
After all, if Nuriko was using his
bed...
His feet tapped lightly against the
wooden boards of the walkway, tugged him swiftly to his destination...swiftly
to the door that still hung slightly open, still filled him with a dark,
irrational anger. His long fingers
stretched forward, pushed the door silently open before him...filled the
darkened chambers with the soft silver flickers of starlight. No maids had been in to clean since Nuriko
had been taken, and so the table still lay rocking on its side, and the vase
still lay in shattered fragments beside it, the soft petals of its contents
drying and browning with thirst.
Drawing in a soft breath and trying to quell the dulled anger still
clawing at his nerves, Hotohori took a long step into the room, dropped his
armful of blankets down onto the edge of the bed, and then closed the door
quietly behind him.
For a long moment, he just stood there,
motionless in the center of the room, and let the darkness swallow him up. There was a window, just above the bed, that
let in a soft flood of silver from the night sky, but other than that, he was
consumed in a flood of unseeing blackness.
Sighing softly, Hotohori sank down onto the bed, let his hands rest
lightly on his lap. There was something
about being here, in the shadows of Nuriko's room, surrounded by the other
man's things, that made him strangely sad.
He pondered on that for a few moments, drawing in a long breath of the
cool, flowery air, feeling the warm touch of the cotton blankets against his legs,
pressing his feet against the solidity of the wooden floor beneath him.
Finally, he let out another soft sigh,
rose to his feet, and set to the task of locating a candle in the
blackness. He journeyed to the opposite
side of the room, let his fingers travel lightly over the surface of the
bureau, down over the drawers, onto the small table...ah. There.
He lifted the cool bronze of the candle holder, set it down against the
edge of the bureau, and quickly lit it.
Immediately, the room was bathed in a
soft, flickering gold, painting soft shadows over the tousled blankets on the
bed, drawing the farthest corners into the light, and bringing the upended
table and flowers more clearly into focus.
It was only then that he noticed it.
It had been lying open on the
bureau. He gathered Nuriko had intended
to put it away, but had never gotten the chance--had been taken before he could
hide it away, keep it from view... He
didn't intend to read it. In fact, the
thought of delving into what appeared to be Nuriko's private writings didn't
appeal to him at all, neither as an emperor nor a friend...but, it was
there...it was open...and, so he lifted the small book up into his hands,
crossed the room to the bed, and sat down.
Nuriko's handwriting was compact,
precise...but, there was something strangely free about the thin lines and
curves, something wide and expansive and flowing...something that made him
smile. The smile faded, however, as his
traveling fingers flipped to one of the later entries in the small journal, and
he caught a glimpse of his own name there, etched neatly against the soft white
of the page...
---
Entry: 24
Time: Early Afternoon
Well, I survived another day of
hell. Aren't you proud of me,
Journal-chan? I know I said before that
I wasn't sure if I was even going to be able to stand staying at the palace
with everyone knowing, but I think now that I can do it. It'll be hard, of course--all the court
ladies hate me now, except for Houki and a few others...all the guards wants me
dead, probably because they're pissed off for having found a man so
attractive...and, Hotohori-sama's advisors, if they ever found out...gods, I
can only imagine what they'd do.
They've been pushing so hard for Hotohori-sama to choose me as his
empress...how would they feel, knowing their first choice is really a man? I know I'm going to have a chance to find
out eventually, of course. Word will
reach them some time no matter what I do...but, it's all right. I think that...no matter what happens...I
can stay here. Iie...I HAVE to stay
here.
Miaka's in her world...but, she's going
to come back, ne? And, when she does,
she'll need me. Besides...I can't leave
Hotohori-sama. Not just because I love
him...but, because now that Tamahome's gone, I'm the only one who he seems to
be able to talk to. I couldn't leave
him. So, I'll stay.
I got spit on today. That was a first. Usually, the ladies just snub their noses at me or turn the other
way...but, today, a few of them spit on me.
It didn't bug me, of course. I
mean, what did I expect? I expected
hatred...disgust...and, I got it. I
just hope none of them decides to act like Aarin and pull a knife on me... I don't know if I can explain any more scars
to Hotohori-sama.
---
The young emperor paused, frowning, ignoring
the rest of the entry for a moment as he thought. Aarin? A knife? Scars?
He scanned his memory, spent a long moment examining the last few weeks,
struggling to find the place where the name resonated...and then, suddenly, he
had it. Of course. Aarin.
One of the court guards, dismissed by request a few weeks ago for family
problems...due to return in just a few days to continue his duties. But...
His frown deepened, and he began flipping back through the pages,
running his eyes quickly down over the words in search of some reference to the
incident...
He froze. There.
The page was dark, a bit crumpled at the
edges, the handwriting slightly shakier than most of the other
entries...and... And there, in the very
lowest corner, there was a tiny, barely-visible smudge of crimson. Blood?
Nuriko's blood? The line between
his eyes thickening in confusion, Hotohori leaned over the page and began to
read.
---
Entry: 18
Time: Midnight
I almost died tonight. I think I'm still shaking.
Of course, I knew Aarin wasn't going to
react all that well to finding out I was a man--he's been fawning over me for
the past year, trying to get me to leave the harem and marry him...how did I
think he would react to finding out??
Still...I guess I still kind of hoped that he might be more mature about
it. After all, he didn't love me for my
gender, did he? He loved me for me...at
least, I thought so. Anyway.
I guess he heard from one of the serving
girls. I'm still not sure how any of
the court's found out, but I have a hunch.
I mean, after all, who else is there in the palace who knows my
secret? It had to have been either
Hotohori-sama or Tamahome. I don't
blame them for it, of course--it was probably an accident. I doubt either of them would've done
something like that out of spite...but, regardless, the damage is done. A lot of the court knows...and, more is
finding out. Pretty soon everyone will
know...gods. How can I even stay here
anymore, if it's going to mean putting up with this hatred and this anger every
day? Maybe the next person who tries to
kill me won't miss.
Anyway...I'm exhausted, so I'll try to
make this quick. I knew he was going to
find out soon, and I wanted it to be from me...but, by the time I got there,
he'd already heard...so, I just told him that it was true and tried to make him
see my reasons. I even tried explaining
to him a little bit about Korin...but, he didn't want to listen. We were in his quarters, even though it's
not proper for court ladies to be alone with men in their rooms...but, it
didn't seem to matter much, since most of them knew what I was, anyway. Regardless...Aarin wasn't all that
pleased. He got up and walked over to
the window. I thought it was just to
get some fresh air, maybe gain some perspective on things...but, no. He's always been so good at hiding his
anger...he hid this anger from me almost until it was too late.
It's all kind of a blur now, but he spun
on me and I caught a glimpse of metal and so I ducked out of the way...but, he still
managed to give me a pretty deep cut across the top of my wrist--hurts like
hell, too. But, anyway--I got the knife
away from him and got out of there as quickly as I could, and I came straight
back here to my room. I'm not all that
afraid that he'll come after me--Aarin's one of those people who'll reconsider
most actions if he has enough time to think about them...but, the truth is, he
almost killed me tonight. If I hadn't
ducked...he would've gotten me right in the chest. Poof. Gone. No more me.
It's a scary thought...but, I guess I have to get used to it. After all, being a Suzaku seishi...there's
going to be fighting. I might die. Hotohori-sama might die. Tamahome might die. Miaka might even die.
Mattaku, what's wrong with me tonight? I almost get killed and suddenly all I can
think about is death. Gomen ne,
Journal-chan. I'm tired and not
thinking straight. Demo, I'll see if I
can write a bit tomorrow morning--if my wrist isn't bothering me too much. It was bleeding pretty badly for
awhile...but I wrapped it and it seems to be doing better now. I think I heard somewhere that seishi heal
more quickly than normal people...but, Suzaku only knows if that's true.
Anyway.
I guess it's long sleeves for me tomorrow. Oyasumi.
-Nuriko
---
