---
The Man Beneath the Braid - 6
~*~*~*~
When he awoke, the sun was just starting to slip up over the edge of the sill, bending at the panes of glass and casting a soft, warming golden glow over the interior of the room. The room itself was just as he remembered it from his dreams--large, expansive, tastefully-decorated...but, sparse, somehow, even in the wake of its very fullness. Empty...
//Empty of life...?\\
For an instant, he wondered if perhaps he was dead, if maybe this was some trick of the aferlife...but, he put the thought out of his head almost immediately. After all...he had memories of the last few slow, pain-drowsy days, of being tended to by Hotohori-sama...of being bandaged, dressed, cleaned, fed... Suddenly wrapped in the reality of the memories, Nuriko let a heavy breath pass between his lips, dropped his head back down onto the pillow and closed his eyes. Above him, he knew, was the bed's satiny, cream-colored canopy, and beyond that, hints of the smooth, polished wood of the ceiling...
Hotohori wasn't here. He knew it even without looking around, even without calling out...he wasn't here. It was strange...but, as he lay here with his eyes closed, he could almost feel the warmth of the younger man's hand on his forehead, could almost hear that soft, soothing bass, muted in comfort or apology...or, twisted in anger, like he'd heard echoing through the thin, papery walls...
//I AM NOT IN LOVE WITH NURIKO!!\\
Groaning softly in memory, the young seishi rolled over in the bed, felt the whispery touch of the long, vaguely-unfamiliar braid, tracing careful lines over his skin as he moved. He fingered the braid for a moment, tugged it up from where it lay and stared at it in the warming light of the morning...felt the silken strands of violet between his fingers. Hotohori had braided this himself...must have. He'd taken this hair into those slim, imperial fingers, twisted and plaited it into this perfect, loving braid...
Nuriko closed his eyes, tried to forget about the pain, inside and out. But, a part of him wanted to be miserable for awhile...wanted to stop being strong, stop being in-control... A part of him just wanted to FEEL. So, he did feel. He lay quietly beneath the blankets, braid dangling lifelessly from his fingers, and remembered...felt.
The tears were hot in his eyes by the time the memories exhausted themselves.
~*~*~*~
[italics]
"Come to my chambers when you've finished," he said. Come to my chambers...
Nuriko sighed happily, hugging slim arms to his chest and continuing on the slow, dancing walk back to his room. Hotohori was being so kind to him recently...so caring, so...loving? No, not quite...but, there was SOMETHING there, wasn't there? Maybe nothing more than friendship...maybe never anything more...but, gods, it WAS something, wasn't it? Here he was, returning to his chambers after a morning spent with the emperor himself...with Hotohori-sama...and, even though he knew that he was no longer the delicate harem woman the other girls were so jealous of...he still couldn't help but wish that he could drop by the harem itself, gloat for a bit...
Naturally, the others all knew who he really was by now, so it wouldn't really be gloating so much as invitation to be scorned...but, still! It might be fun to stop by...maybe talk to Houki... Gods, he missed her--he hadn't realized how long it'd been since they'd last spoken, or how much he'd missed those soft, calmingly-melodic comments to offset his rantings... She'd always said how much she wished Hotohori-sama would choose him--what would she think now, knowing him for what he was, but knowing, also, that he'd completely monopolized Hotohori's attention for the last two days?? That he was closer to the emperor, now, than any of the harem girls might ever-ever-ever have a chance to be?
He couldn't resist. Smiling slightly and already feeling a happy-nervous tingle working its way up his spine, Nuriko grabbed onto the edge of the palace walkway, vaulted over the smooth wooden banister, and felt the satisfying THUD of his feet squishing into the moist, earthy topsoil on the other side. He grinned, took a moment to regain his balance...and realized with a bit of a start just how GOOD that had felt. Of course, he would've never been able to get away with doing something like that dressed as a woman--nor would he have really have been able to physically DO such a thing with those skirts tangling around his legs. But, now, wearing these clothes, walking without shuffling his feet or bowing his head or clasping his hands together...god, it felt GOOD! It felt...it felt freeing and perfect and wonderful...
And, Hotohori had given this to him. Even if he didn't love him as anything more than a friend...even if he was deluding himself by ever thinking that the young emperor could see him as more than that...it was all right. Because, Hotohori had given this to him...given him this gift. He wondered, vaguely, what he could ever do to repay the young emperor for this--if there was anything he COULD do that would even come close to giving back some of what he'd found so unselfishly bestowed upon him.
//I'll love him,\\ he decided after a moment of thought, already moving in the familiar, circuitous route that he knew led to the harem. //I'll love him. As much as I can, for as long as I live. I'll love him.\\
And, then, he was turning a corner, starting down the grassy, guard-strewn path, moving towards the slow rise of that familiar, reddish building...and suddenly, a dark shadow cut across his path, made him skid to a halt, stare with blinking, confused eyes to whoever or whatever had blocked his path...
"This is the harem," a gravelly voice rumbled, face partially obscured by the brilliance of the morning sun behind it.
Nuriko frowned, took a slight step back and managed to get a clearer view of that face, stern and pinched and irritated. He recognized the man vaguely, having seen him around the palace and the harem in the past, but...what the hell did he think he was doing?
He raised an eyebrow. "The harem," he echoed a bit impatiently. "Hai, I know. Now, if you don't mind..." He took a few steps forward, made to slide around the guard...and, found his way blocked again, the slender shaft of a spear pointed dangerously near to his chest.
"This is the harem," the man repeated in the same low, irritated-but-bored bass. "No men allowed."
He stared in blank confusion for a moment, about to open his mouth and state the obvious...but, then, he paused, realized with a start that he was still clad in the clothes Hotohori had had made for him...that he looked, despite his feminine features, like a BOY.
"Mattaku!" he exclaimed, bringing a hand to his forehead. "Good gods, I don't believe this..." He sighed, shook his head slightly and stared challengingly back up at the guard. "Fine," he muttered. "I'll be back."
Then, he spun on his heel, stamped his foot down, and stomped back down the path, back around the edge of the building, back up onto the walkway, back past Hotohori-sama's chambers, back around the corner and towards the guest chambers. Several minutes later, he shoved open the door to his personal chambers, moved irritably to the closet and began searching for an appropriate dress. Nothing too fancy--no use dirtying one of his best when it was only to get into the harem so he could talk to Houki... Good gods, what a PAIN...
And, then, suddenly, there came a crash from behind him, what sounded suspiciously like the door being thrown open, slamming into the wall...and then, from somewhere behind him, the sound of the small table beside the bed, which had been leaning against the wall and must've caught some of the shock of the slam, crashing to the floor, spilling its contents all over the soft wood...the shatter of glass. Frowning but not overly alarmed yet, he turned, the satiny fabric of a simply blue dress resting lightly in his fingers...and felt his eyes widen, his muscles tense. This wasn't...wasn't right...
He forced himself to speak, to deny... "What do you want?" he asked quietly. It felt like the breath had fled his lungs...like his words were hollow, without life...like they were as dead as he had an aching suspicion he was going to be shortly.
Two heavy sets of booted feet thundered into the room, made way for their stretching counterparts to latch onto him, capture his slim arms within thick, meaty hands three times the size of his own. As the guards slid from the doorway to advance upon him, however, he saw a slender, robed form step out from where it had stood just behind them, and he recognized it almost immediately as Jokuko-san, one of Hotohori-sama's advisors. In fact... The echoes of the conversation returned to him then, in a flood of memory, and he felt a chill work its way through his body.
//"Demo, Nuriko-san...we know Heika-sama enjoys your company--and, after all, it would only be for one evening. Keeping him company for the celebration, sharing a dance with him at the ball afterwards...for appearances, really. And, then, who knows? Perhaps he might take even MORE of a liking to you, make you his empress. Please, I've seen the way you look at him. You love him...and, not in the way the other harem girls do. You honestly LOVE him. If you do, Nuriko-san...please, do us this favor. We want so much for Heika-sama to be happy..."\\
"Jokuko-san," he murmured.
The man took a long step into the room, the thin, whitening strands of his beard twitching beneath a clenched jaw, eyes dark and cold and glowing with anger. "Nuriko," he said flatly. There was no emotion in that voice...no feeling, no warmth. Just nothingness.
He felt himself begin to shake. "I'm sorry," he whispered, KNOWING suddenly what was going on...KNOWING why he was being grabbed, why Jokuko was glaring at him like that... why the muscled hands pressing into his biceps were squeezing more tightly than they had any right to. "I'm sorry. Jokuko-san, I didn't do it to--"
"Be quiet." The toneless command cut him off, made him close his mouth, be suddenly, irrevocably silent. "Please," the old advisor continued, lips compressing into a thin line, "don't insult us both with excuses." Jokuko let out a soft, weary breath, then leaned back a bit and seemed to accept a bit of humanity into his face. "You know why I'm here, Nuriko."
It was not a question. Nuriko nodded.
"Good." The humanity seemed to draw a deep breath, grow almost sorrowful. "And, if you know that, then you know where you're going."
Nuriko nodded again. He wasn't shaking anymore, felt very little at all aside from the grips on his arms, the heavy, panting breath tickling against the backs of his ears.
Jokuko nodded once, very slightly, and then, Nuriko felt himself being shoved forward, dragged out through the open doorway, out onto the smooth wood of the walkway...out towards the squat, unassuming building he knew held the entrance to the dungeons...to the lower levels where a man could scream for hours and never be heard.
He wondered, vaguely, if Hotohori would ever know what had happened to him...if anyone would tell him.
If anyone would care enough to tell him.
Glancing at Jokuko's hardened profile as they moved, noticing the way the anger still clung to those soft, kindly features...he doubted it.
---
*AN: This flashback isn't done yet, folks. ^_~. As it is, I'm probably going to spend some time tracing the happenings of the last few chapters in Nuriko's POV, and then jump back to Hotohori and continue onward. S'arright? S'arright... ~Ryuen
The Man Beneath the Braid - 6
~*~*~*~
When he awoke, the sun was just starting to slip up over the edge of the sill, bending at the panes of glass and casting a soft, warming golden glow over the interior of the room. The room itself was just as he remembered it from his dreams--large, expansive, tastefully-decorated...but, sparse, somehow, even in the wake of its very fullness. Empty...
//Empty of life...?\\
For an instant, he wondered if perhaps he was dead, if maybe this was some trick of the aferlife...but, he put the thought out of his head almost immediately. After all...he had memories of the last few slow, pain-drowsy days, of being tended to by Hotohori-sama...of being bandaged, dressed, cleaned, fed... Suddenly wrapped in the reality of the memories, Nuriko let a heavy breath pass between his lips, dropped his head back down onto the pillow and closed his eyes. Above him, he knew, was the bed's satiny, cream-colored canopy, and beyond that, hints of the smooth, polished wood of the ceiling...
Hotohori wasn't here. He knew it even without looking around, even without calling out...he wasn't here. It was strange...but, as he lay here with his eyes closed, he could almost feel the warmth of the younger man's hand on his forehead, could almost hear that soft, soothing bass, muted in comfort or apology...or, twisted in anger, like he'd heard echoing through the thin, papery walls...
//I AM NOT IN LOVE WITH NURIKO!!\\
Groaning softly in memory, the young seishi rolled over in the bed, felt the whispery touch of the long, vaguely-unfamiliar braid, tracing careful lines over his skin as he moved. He fingered the braid for a moment, tugged it up from where it lay and stared at it in the warming light of the morning...felt the silken strands of violet between his fingers. Hotohori had braided this himself...must have. He'd taken this hair into those slim, imperial fingers, twisted and plaited it into this perfect, loving braid...
Nuriko closed his eyes, tried to forget about the pain, inside and out. But, a part of him wanted to be miserable for awhile...wanted to stop being strong, stop being in-control... A part of him just wanted to FEEL. So, he did feel. He lay quietly beneath the blankets, braid dangling lifelessly from his fingers, and remembered...felt.
The tears were hot in his eyes by the time the memories exhausted themselves.
~*~*~*~
[italics]
"Come to my chambers when you've finished," he said. Come to my chambers...
Nuriko sighed happily, hugging slim arms to his chest and continuing on the slow, dancing walk back to his room. Hotohori was being so kind to him recently...so caring, so...loving? No, not quite...but, there was SOMETHING there, wasn't there? Maybe nothing more than friendship...maybe never anything more...but, gods, it WAS something, wasn't it? Here he was, returning to his chambers after a morning spent with the emperor himself...with Hotohori-sama...and, even though he knew that he was no longer the delicate harem woman the other girls were so jealous of...he still couldn't help but wish that he could drop by the harem itself, gloat for a bit...
Naturally, the others all knew who he really was by now, so it wouldn't really be gloating so much as invitation to be scorned...but, still! It might be fun to stop by...maybe talk to Houki... Gods, he missed her--he hadn't realized how long it'd been since they'd last spoken, or how much he'd missed those soft, calmingly-melodic comments to offset his rantings... She'd always said how much she wished Hotohori-sama would choose him--what would she think now, knowing him for what he was, but knowing, also, that he'd completely monopolized Hotohori's attention for the last two days?? That he was closer to the emperor, now, than any of the harem girls might ever-ever-ever have a chance to be?
He couldn't resist. Smiling slightly and already feeling a happy-nervous tingle working its way up his spine, Nuriko grabbed onto the edge of the palace walkway, vaulted over the smooth wooden banister, and felt the satisfying THUD of his feet squishing into the moist, earthy topsoil on the other side. He grinned, took a moment to regain his balance...and realized with a bit of a start just how GOOD that had felt. Of course, he would've never been able to get away with doing something like that dressed as a woman--nor would he have really have been able to physically DO such a thing with those skirts tangling around his legs. But, now, wearing these clothes, walking without shuffling his feet or bowing his head or clasping his hands together...god, it felt GOOD! It felt...it felt freeing and perfect and wonderful...
And, Hotohori had given this to him. Even if he didn't love him as anything more than a friend...even if he was deluding himself by ever thinking that the young emperor could see him as more than that...it was all right. Because, Hotohori had given this to him...given him this gift. He wondered, vaguely, what he could ever do to repay the young emperor for this--if there was anything he COULD do that would even come close to giving back some of what he'd found so unselfishly bestowed upon him.
//I'll love him,\\ he decided after a moment of thought, already moving in the familiar, circuitous route that he knew led to the harem. //I'll love him. As much as I can, for as long as I live. I'll love him.\\
And, then, he was turning a corner, starting down the grassy, guard-strewn path, moving towards the slow rise of that familiar, reddish building...and suddenly, a dark shadow cut across his path, made him skid to a halt, stare with blinking, confused eyes to whoever or whatever had blocked his path...
"This is the harem," a gravelly voice rumbled, face partially obscured by the brilliance of the morning sun behind it.
Nuriko frowned, took a slight step back and managed to get a clearer view of that face, stern and pinched and irritated. He recognized the man vaguely, having seen him around the palace and the harem in the past, but...what the hell did he think he was doing?
He raised an eyebrow. "The harem," he echoed a bit impatiently. "Hai, I know. Now, if you don't mind..." He took a few steps forward, made to slide around the guard...and, found his way blocked again, the slender shaft of a spear pointed dangerously near to his chest.
"This is the harem," the man repeated in the same low, irritated-but-bored bass. "No men allowed."
He stared in blank confusion for a moment, about to open his mouth and state the obvious...but, then, he paused, realized with a start that he was still clad in the clothes Hotohori had had made for him...that he looked, despite his feminine features, like a BOY.
"Mattaku!" he exclaimed, bringing a hand to his forehead. "Good gods, I don't believe this..." He sighed, shook his head slightly and stared challengingly back up at the guard. "Fine," he muttered. "I'll be back."
Then, he spun on his heel, stamped his foot down, and stomped back down the path, back around the edge of the building, back up onto the walkway, back past Hotohori-sama's chambers, back around the corner and towards the guest chambers. Several minutes later, he shoved open the door to his personal chambers, moved irritably to the closet and began searching for an appropriate dress. Nothing too fancy--no use dirtying one of his best when it was only to get into the harem so he could talk to Houki... Good gods, what a PAIN...
And, then, suddenly, there came a crash from behind him, what sounded suspiciously like the door being thrown open, slamming into the wall...and then, from somewhere behind him, the sound of the small table beside the bed, which had been leaning against the wall and must've caught some of the shock of the slam, crashing to the floor, spilling its contents all over the soft wood...the shatter of glass. Frowning but not overly alarmed yet, he turned, the satiny fabric of a simply blue dress resting lightly in his fingers...and felt his eyes widen, his muscles tense. This wasn't...wasn't right...
He forced himself to speak, to deny... "What do you want?" he asked quietly. It felt like the breath had fled his lungs...like his words were hollow, without life...like they were as dead as he had an aching suspicion he was going to be shortly.
Two heavy sets of booted feet thundered into the room, made way for their stretching counterparts to latch onto him, capture his slim arms within thick, meaty hands three times the size of his own. As the guards slid from the doorway to advance upon him, however, he saw a slender, robed form step out from where it had stood just behind them, and he recognized it almost immediately as Jokuko-san, one of Hotohori-sama's advisors. In fact... The echoes of the conversation returned to him then, in a flood of memory, and he felt a chill work its way through his body.
//"Demo, Nuriko-san...we know Heika-sama enjoys your company--and, after all, it would only be for one evening. Keeping him company for the celebration, sharing a dance with him at the ball afterwards...for appearances, really. And, then, who knows? Perhaps he might take even MORE of a liking to you, make you his empress. Please, I've seen the way you look at him. You love him...and, not in the way the other harem girls do. You honestly LOVE him. If you do, Nuriko-san...please, do us this favor. We want so much for Heika-sama to be happy..."\\
"Jokuko-san," he murmured.
The man took a long step into the room, the thin, whitening strands of his beard twitching beneath a clenched jaw, eyes dark and cold and glowing with anger. "Nuriko," he said flatly. There was no emotion in that voice...no feeling, no warmth. Just nothingness.
He felt himself begin to shake. "I'm sorry," he whispered, KNOWING suddenly what was going on...KNOWING why he was being grabbed, why Jokuko was glaring at him like that... why the muscled hands pressing into his biceps were squeezing more tightly than they had any right to. "I'm sorry. Jokuko-san, I didn't do it to--"
"Be quiet." The toneless command cut him off, made him close his mouth, be suddenly, irrevocably silent. "Please," the old advisor continued, lips compressing into a thin line, "don't insult us both with excuses." Jokuko let out a soft, weary breath, then leaned back a bit and seemed to accept a bit of humanity into his face. "You know why I'm here, Nuriko."
It was not a question. Nuriko nodded.
"Good." The humanity seemed to draw a deep breath, grow almost sorrowful. "And, if you know that, then you know where you're going."
Nuriko nodded again. He wasn't shaking anymore, felt very little at all aside from the grips on his arms, the heavy, panting breath tickling against the backs of his ears.
Jokuko nodded once, very slightly, and then, Nuriko felt himself being shoved forward, dragged out through the open doorway, out onto the smooth wood of the walkway...out towards the squat, unassuming building he knew held the entrance to the dungeons...to the lower levels where a man could scream for hours and never be heard.
He wondered, vaguely, if Hotohori would ever know what had happened to him...if anyone would tell him.
If anyone would care enough to tell him.
Glancing at Jokuko's hardened profile as they moved, noticing the way the anger still clung to those soft, kindly features...he doubted it.
---
*AN: This flashback isn't done yet, folks. ^_~. As it is, I'm probably going to spend some time tracing the happenings of the last few chapters in Nuriko's POV, and then jump back to Hotohori and continue onward. S'arright? S'arright... ~Ryuen