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The Man Beneath the Braid - 8

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It was strange...but, as the whip came down the first time, as he felt the leather slice into his flesh, leave a thin, bleeding gash on his back...all he could focus on was a day from his childhood...a day he'd thought long forgotten, but which now surged back into existence with almost frightening clarity...drew him up out of the world of pain and misery and the sharp, rusty scent of blood. It was a strange, unthinking kind of disassociation, drawing him out of this cell, out of this place...out of this body and this time. He wasn't lying on a cold, dank floor, writhing as the whip stung again and again into his flesh...no. He was in the familiar streets of his home, the heat of the summer sun bathing him in a healthy sweat, making him move more slowly...lazily. His sister was beside him...and, Rokou...Rokou was there, too...and, they were going to the palace.

Summer had always been his favorite time of year. It was a time when he and his siblings were free of their usual duties and chores, could run around the city freely...visit friends, play in the streets...explore. On this particular day, they were following through with one of Korin's oldest dreams, were taking the long trek to the imperial gates to catch a glimpse of the palace. The walk was long, hot, and Rokou whined for most of the way...but, once they arrived,once they stood there in front of those gates with their tiny faces pressed to the cracks in the bars--once they gazed past the shifting seas of guards and harem women and courtiers...they could see the magnificence that was the palace...could almost feel the godly radiance of the aging emperor they knew resided within.

Even Rokou was speechless as they stood there, a cool breeze tingling against the backs of their necks, and stared into the realm of dreams and gods and storybooks.

"It's...beautiful," Korin whispered.

The two boys somehow managed to regain enough motor control to nod...but, just as Ryuen was opening his mouth to speak, a dark shadow appeared just in front of them, made them jump back, gasp...

"What are you children doing here?" the guard demanded, thudding his spear angrily against the ground. He was tall, muscular...massive...and, the fact that his dark eyes were narrowed into a glare, his lips twisted down into a scowl...it made him all the more frightening, all the more deadly and mysterious.

As they stood, stunned and open-mouthed, still caught up in the speechless wonder that was the palace and the fear of being caught in such an action, the guard threw open the gates, took a heavy, dangerous step towards them. "The palace gates are off limits!" he roared. "Where are your parents? What are you doing here?" And, then, he was taking a long step forward, hefting his spear even as Ryuen took a wary step backwards, placed himself in front of his younger sister protectively...

"Ganen!"

The voice was smooth, practiced...a golden warmth that surrounded him, felt somehow like the soft amber touch of the summer sun against his face. It didn't surprise him at all to find that the voice came from the boy who would be emperor.

The young prince rode in an intricate, finely-decorated palaquin ornamented with streams of silver and gold, half of his face obscured by a flimsy curtain of very soft blue, four burly guards responsible for his movement and elevation. As the palaquin moved closer, Ryuen watched as the guard--the one called Ganen--fell to one knee, tilted his head low and focused his eyes on the ground. Not quite certain as to what was going on, the young boy put his arms protectively around his sister, noted with a bit of a smirk that Rokou had already made a run for it, was probably halfway on the road to home by now...

"Ganen," the boy in the palaquin repeated, leaning forward slightly...pushing aside the window-like veil so his face emerged into the cool breeze washing by...so his eyes--a warm, liquid shade of golden-amber, as much like the sunshine as his voice--could be seen clearly across the distance between them. The boy made a vague motion with his arm, waited as the men beneath him turned the palaquin around, moved him to the edge of the gate. They did not, Ryuen noticed, carry the boy beyond the line of the gates...but, rather stood there just at the edge, just out of reach...

Ganen sank lower, closed his eyes. "Your Highness," he offered reverently, letting one hand sweep across his uniformed chest in what seemed to be a show of allegiance. "I apologize for these children's presence at the gates. I was just about to--"

"I realize what you were about to do," the boy interjected, his voice surprisingly strong; firm--it gave the illusion of manhood, even without the usual depth of voice to accompany it. "You were about to strike them, Ganen. Weren't you?"

"Your Highness, I was only going to teach them to--"

"To respect the laws set forth by my father?" the boy finished almost dryly. "Yes, I understand. But, it does not excuse that you were about to hurt them...and, they did nothing aside from look at the palace. Is that a crime, Ganen? Should I be beaten, as I'm guilty of the same thing?"

Ganen blanched. "N-No, of course not, Your Highness...b-but, surely, you see the distinction--"

The boy's eyes narrowed. "I see," he interrupted slowly, "that you were going to hurt them for no good, lawful reason other than because you COULD. And, that, Ganen, is an offense I'm sure my father would not appreciate..."

The guard flinched...but, before he could speak, the boy sighed softly, offered a small smile that seemed to draw the warmth directly from the sun, claim it as its own.

"However," he continued gently, "there's no need to report this to him. After all...it was a mistake, wasn't it, Ganen?"

"Hai, Heika-sama."

"And, it will never happen again."

"Hai, Heika-sama. Never."

The boy's smile lifted. "Good." And, then, suddenly, those warm golden eyes were on him, on he and Korin...and, he felt something change within him in that moment, felt the subtle stirrings of something he wouldn't grasp for years being born in his heart...begin the long, steady growth towards maturity. "I apologize," the young prince said, that soft, beautiful smile still clinging to his lips. "You weren't hurt, were you?"

The concern in his voice...

//He doesn't even know us.\\

"We're...we're fine," Ryuen managed, somehow breaking free of his paralysis enough to form a coherent sentence. "Th-Thank you...Heika-sama."

The boy smiled, held gazes with him for another moment that stretched into eternity...and, then, he made that same fluid gesture with his arm...vanished back behind the sheer curtain and began to move away.

Ryuen stood there at the edge of the gate for a long time, unable to move...barely able to breathe...and watched the palaquin carry the boy away...watched until it vanished behind a corner--vanished like a cloud sliding over the sun.

And, then, he was himself again, was aware of his sister standing there beside him, of the fact that his arms were still around her, holding her protectively...and, so he released her, took a small step back...and, they began the long, silent trek home. Rokou was waiting for them at the end of the long road leading up to the palace gates, seemed vaguely surprised to find both of them uninjured and so uncharacteristically-silent...but, he said little or nothing on the way back, anyway, and soon grew impatient enough with his siblings' silence to hurry on ahead, increase the distance between them in his hurry to be home.

It was only then that Ryuen dared turn, look at Korin to see if she'd been affected as he had...if she'd felt that warmth stirring within her as he had...if she'd felt it at all. One glimpse at her face, at the wistfulness touching her features, the glow of longing in her eyes...he knew she felt the same.

He smiled softly, took a moment to feel the soft warmth of the sinking sun on his cheeks, the cool, fragrant touch of the breeze against his skin. His voice was low...almost reverent. "It was beautiful...ne, Korin?"

She glanced over at him almost in surprise, stared for a moment in silence...then matched the smile, met his gaze with something like comprehension in her eyes. "Hai," she murmured. "Beautiful. I would give anything...to live there."

Ryuen closed his eyes briefly, felt Korin's hand slide into his own and nodded. "Hai," he agreed softly. "So would I."

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The past faded away...cruelly...slowly...and, he came back to reality with a start, felt the slice of the whip so clearly that he cried out...bit down on his lip hard and tasted blood on his tongue.

He was back in the cell, back in reality...back in the cold darkness, the wet floor...the heat of his own blood surrounding him, bathing him...suffocating him. He was back...gods...not now...please...it hurt...

Struggling against a sudden spasm of pain rippling up his spine, Nuriko closed his eyes, sank very low to the floor...lay curled on his side with arms wrapped around his legs...eyes squeezed shut tightly enough that the tears couldn't find their way out, couldn't sting down over his cheeks, mix with the blood and make him lose even this faint strength he still had left. And, for a moment, as he lay there straining to regain control, the pain stopped...the whip stopped...and, he could lie there, the breath wheezing in and out of his lungs, the tears lying hot and dark against his eyelids, and be at peace...

...and, then, he heard the grunt of the guard--Hon, he remembered--raising his arm, heard that angry swish...and, the pain came back with a vengeance. It was hot...searing...stinging against his back, his shoulders, his chest, his arms, his legs...everwhere...everywhere...gods, it hurt so much...so much...

He held it in for as long as he could. He lay there and closed his eyes and tried to think of something else, tried to place himself somewhere else...tried to think of people he loved, people who made it easy to forget the pain...easy to suffer through it, to justify it...but, it just wasn't enough. And, as even Hotohori's face faded before his eyes...as even that comforting light left him...he couldn't stop himself.

He screamed. He screamed, thrashed on the floor...begged for it to end. Begged to be allowed to die...

"Please," he whispered, his voice low and hoarse, barely recognizable as his own. "Please...kill..." He began to cough, tasted the blood on his lips again...stared up at the guard with wide, pleading eyes. He felt the agony twisting at every ounce of his being, grabbing him up in a neverending flood of anguish...pain...why couldn't it go away? Why couldn't he just...just break away...be free...?

"Please," he managed, stemming back the coughing with all of what remained of his self-control. "Please...let me...let me... Please."

There was a long pause. The man stood above him, whip dangling from his fingers, breath rasping in and out of his lungs...something like compassion in his eyes. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, to catch its breath...to let HIM breathe.

//Please,\\ he begged silently. //Please...it's not worth it...it hurts so much...\\

Then, time surged into motion again...and, Hon raised the whip, hit him again. Again. Again.

Again.

"I'm sorry," Hon said quietly...and, it seemed strange to hear a touch of humanity to his voice, a slow, growing sorrow that hinted at something more than just a cold-hearted guard...made him wonder if maybe there wasn't a man underneath there...someone he knew was hating every instant of this day... But, whatever it was, it wasn't enough. The man drew a deep breath, stretched his arm a bit. "I have orders...but, it's almost over."

He stayed conscious for almost ten more minutes before he passed out...and by then, the urge to die was so strong that--had he not been so weak--he would gladly have done it himself, if only to end the pain. And, then, the darkness took him...and, the world, at last, was silent.

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