The Man Beneath the Crown

by Shunyata Ryuen

All of Konan is rejoicing, celebrating the birth of their exalted emperor...but, as the ceremonies continue, Hotohori finds himself wondering just how many of his subjects know that a man exists beneath the crown. A Nuriko/Hotohori friendship fic.

DISCLAIMER:  None of this belongs to me or anyone I can conceivably blackmail. 

*AN:  This is, indeed, yet another Hotohori/Nuriko fic.  Except, this one is going to be more of a friendship/warm-fuzzy-feeling kind of story, less of a romance.  That means no sap, no yaoi, but there is the possibility of a sequel...eh, but you'll see.  So, sit back, relax, and read onward.  ^_^.

*PS:  I apologize for the odd spacing.  MS Word is the devil. 

"The Man Beneath the Crown"

by Ryuen

~*~*~*~

        He'd been dreading this night all year.

        Dully, the young emperor stretched down his hand, dragged one of the colorful flyers up into view. 

        I, member of the imperial advisory board, am pleased to announce the long-awaited eighteenth birthday of our beloved lord and emperor, Seishuku Saihitei.  All businesses and non-celebratory-related activities will be shut down for the day of the festivities, and all citizens will be expected to present

        He halted his eye at the middle of the sentence, crunched the parchment into a thin ball and hurled it at the wall.  Gods, he hated this day.  Not only had Miaka gone back to her world, leaving him alone and more depressed than ever...but, Tamahome had left for some obscure village a few nights ago, also, leaving only one person on the palace grounds who he could expect to treat him like a normal human being.  And, she--  He stopped himself midthought, shook his head.  No.  No, HE.  He, Nuriko.  He, he, he.  Gods, this was hard.  Hotohori closed his eyes for a moment, pressed his fingers up over the eyelids and tried to wish away the world.  Maybe...maybe if he squeezed his eyes shut very tightly, prayed to Suzaku--called in all his imperial favors...maybe then he could just curl into a ball and go to sleep...wake up when this damned day was over....or maybe when Miaka came back...

        A light knock on the door lifted him up from his reverie, made him wince as reality once again intruded on his daydreams...it would be his advisors, of course, come to drag him out before the assembled nation, happy-birthday-your-highness, blah blah blah...  He waved a hand at the partially open door, not bothering to lift his hand from his eyes. 

        "Yes, yes, I'm coming," he muttered.  "Please, let me be alone for a bit longer, if you don't mind."

        There was a slight pause.  "H...Hai, Heika," came a hesitant voice from the doorway.  "I'm sorry for disturbing you."
        At the sound of the soft, lilting alto, Hotohori pulled his hand from his eyes, blinked a few times at the slim, well-dressed figure in the doorway.  Nuriko was clad in a soft, flowing dress of violet silk, the skirt of which had been lightly adorned with small red flowers, the top of which crisscrossed fashionably just below his neck.  The thick violet tufts of his hair had been tugged up into a stylish ensemble of twisted braids, into which had been weaved several lengths of golden ribbon--a few of the ribboned braids hung down past the side of his face, further emphasizing the soft touch of gold sparkles over his eyelids, the painted rose of his lips, the warm flush to his cheeks.  Despite his feelings towards his own beauty, it was difficult not to notice Nuriko's own more aesthetically-pleasing qualities...and, it was becoming extremely, extremely difficult to remind himself that Nuriko was, indeed, a man. 

        Hotohori shifted a bit in his chair, waved a hand at the young man to enter.       "Gomen," the young emperor offered softly, tilting his head slightly forward in apology.  His lips lifted.  "I thought you were one of my advisors..."
        Nuriko ducked his head a bit, took a few measured steps into the room.  "There's no need to apologize," he said formally.  A soft, boyish smile tugged at his lips.  "Actually, it was your advisors who sent me."

        Hotohori glanced up at him in surprise.  "Oh?"
        The violet-haired man nodded.  His hands, the young emperor noticed, were clasped respectfully in front of him, and his head was still slightly bowed, his voice soft, light, and formal.  "Hai.  They..."  Nuriko glanced up at him, blushed.  "They...wished me to...to be your...your..."
        "My..."
        The blush darkened.  "Your date," he finished softly.

        The young emperor stared at him blankly for a long moment, the thoughts whirring through his mind, slowing coalescing into some sort of understandable order.  Of course...  He felt a weight sink into his stomach, realized with a bit of a jolt just what his advisors were up to.  They, of course, had no idea Nuriko was a man...  And, after all, sh--HE was very attractive, just about the right age, not to mention intelligent, strong...gods.  They must've hoped he would take a liking to Nuriko, make her--err, him his empress...gods.   He let out a soft sigh through parted lips, pressed his forehead into his hand and fought back the irrational burst of irritation at his meddling advisors...   And then, suddenly, he remembered that Nuriko was still standing just inside the door, watching him, taking in his reactions...seeing his displeasure...  He brought his head up quickly from the hand, opened his mouth to apologize, explain--but, Nuriko spoke before he had a chance to.

        "It's all right...Heika-sama," he said quietly.  His eyes were downcast, his hands still clasped together...but, they trembled slightly, as if the fingers were clenching together very tightly.  "I'll tell them, of course, that I can't accept..."

        The pain in those eyes...gods.  It was like a dagger through his heart.  Hotohori closed his eyes briefly, recognizing a glimmer of his own pain in those eyes, a flicker of his own desolation, loneliness...of course.  How could he've missed it before?  Nuriko, disguised as a woman, all this time...unable to afford getting close to anyone for fear of being discovered, unable to have any kind of relationship at all...after all, the women thought he was a woman and wouldn't touch him, whereas the men thought he was a woman but he couldn't touch THEM.  Gods...what a terrible existence, he found himself thinking suddenly.  And, the truth of it had been there all along, set beneath those soft violet eyes, those smiling lips...how could he've missed it before?

        Hearing the sounds of Nuriko's skirts swishing lightly together, the soft thud of his footsteps leaving the room, Hotohori rose to his feet, turned to face the other man with a wash of heavy red robes.  "That won't be necessary," he said firmly.

        Nuriko glanced back at him in surprise, raised a speculative eyebrow.  "Heika?"

        "Please," the young emperor said.  "Hotohori."  He stepped forward, extended an arm to the startled seishi.  "We are star brothers, after all, aren't we?  No need to be so formal."

        Nuriko stared at the arm blankly, slim eyebrows coming together, a crease forming in his forehead.  "Heik--Hotohori-sama...you mean..."
        He smiled, very lightly.  "If I am to suffer through yet another of my birthdays...then, I may as well suffer with a friend nearby, wouldn't you agree?"
        A flood of what could only be described as gratitude seeped into Nuriko's eyes, brought a new, pleasant warmth to the soft, darkened wells of violet.  "Hai," he said softly.  Then, he stretched forward a slim hand, wrapped it carefully around the young emperor's waiting arm, and offered a slight smile.  "You really hate this day that much?"

        Hotohori nodded fervently.  "Hai.  If I could live my entire life without ever going through another birthday...I would die a happy man."  He shook his head slightly, cleared his throat.  "Well.  Shall we go, then?  I have a feeling my advisors are waiting just outside the door, no doubt ready to bombard me with birthday wishes the moment I step outside..."
        Nuriko smiled.  "Don't worry," he said in a low, covert voice.  "I'll protect you, Hotohori-sama."
        Remembering the young seishi deftly tossing a boulder three times his size from the edge of a cliff, Hotohori was inclined to believe the statement.  Sighing softly and trying to ignore the far-off blare of trumpets and the low roar of the assembled crowd, the young emperor glanced once at Nuriko, drew in a deep breath, and stepped out onto the palace walkway.

       

~*~*~*~

        The worst part of the evening was, by far, the congratulatory speech and presentation of gifts.  Peasants who could hardly afford a loaf of bread stepped forward, deposited small pouches of gold and silver into a large bin assembled for just such a purpose.  The wealthier members of the kingdom took the long walk up the red carpet, kneeled before his throne and presented extravagant gifts of their own.  As the ceremony continued, Hotohori glanced sideways at Nuriko, who kneeled respectfully on a small cushion just off his right shoulder, and caught the man's eyes rolling in disdain.  He was inclined to agree.  The men and woman strode forward haughtily, clad in their finest suits and gowns, noses held high in the air.  They were full of flattering words and modest bows...but, he could see the covert glances cast between the assembled gift-givers, could see the competition rising between them, the silent war motivating them to present him with the best, most expensive, extravagant gifts...  It was all he could do to prevent his lip from curling in disgust.

        Finally, however, the excruciating ceremony ended...but, following it was, of course, the equally-painful sequence of speeches to the assemblage.  All the speeches were generally the same, inspiring loyalty in his ruling power and exemplifying the patriotism the citizens should feel for Konan...but, none of the eloquent words spoken in any way summed up who he was as a man, or even came close to touching at the man beneath the crown.  All in all...it was extremely depressing, and by the end, Hotohori was more than ready to flee back to his rooms, tuck himself safely away beneath the covers...and never, ever come out again.

        Regardless, he toughed his way through it, took long, deep breaths...and tried to ignore the rising cheers sounding all around him, the echoing thunder of his advisors' voices ringing through the darkened streets...the far-off rumble of fireworks ripping into the night sky.  About midway through the fifth speech, and just when he was feeling himself nearing the edge of sanity, ready to go bounding off into the night shrieking and ripping at his hair...something warm touched his hand...and he started, jerked his head to the side.  Nuriko was still kneeling there behind him on the satin cushion, looking surprisingly-beautiful in the soft glimmers of moonlight...but, he'd stretched his hand forward, touched it very lightly against Hotohori's own.  He stared at that slim hand for a long moment, confused and uncomprehending...no--disbelieving. 

        This touch was comfort...understanding...acceptance.  This touch told him that a person existed on this earth who knew that a man sat beneath this crown, that there was more to him than Saihitei, the beautiful young emperor, the intelligent, gifted ruler.  This touch was proof that he wasn't alone any longer, that he had friends, loved ones...people who knew HIM, Hotohori...not Heika, not Saihitei.  Startled tears sprang to his eyes, and he quickly brushed them away, turned back to the assemblage as a thunderous round of applause rippled through the crowd...but, Nuriko had seen them.  He wondered, briefly, what the young seishi thought of those tears, what he made of them...if he understood. 

        Hotohori closed his eyes briefly, forced back the last of the wetness from his eyes.  Gods, he himself didn't entirely understand...but, it didn't matter...now right now.  Now, there was a country to attend to, a ceremony to conclude...a night's festivities to call a start to.  At long last, the final speaker returned to his chair, and all eyes turned to Hotohori himself.  A great, hushing wave swept over the crowd as they awaited his words, and the young emperor was suddenly and poignantly struck by the absolute silence ensuing all of a sudden, by the fact that there were thousands of faces out there, thousands of mouths, tongues, lips...but, all of them were silent, unmoving.  All of them were paying homage to him...to this day of his birth.

        It was a magnificent and humbling moment, and one he would look back on often, during the darker days to come.  He would draw strength from the memory of that stretching silence, from the thousands of waiting, anxious eyes pressed upon him...from all the lips, stretched upwards as they awaited his words...

        Can I really be this important to these people?

        Of course, he knew, even as he asked the silent question, that the answer was no, that he wasn't important to them at all.  He could be any man--any fair, decent ruler.  Hotohori wasn't important to these people...Heika-sama was.  Almost instinctively, Hotohori turned his head slightly, glanced back at Nuriko.  That violet-haired head was bowed respectfully, eyes cast down at the floor, hands folded neatly in his lap.  This man...this man, of all these people, knew who he was...knew him for himself and not for his position.  Now that Tamahome had left, that Miaka had left...gods.  Nuriko...was all he had...wasn't he?

        Suddenly realizing that the assembled nation was shifting a bit impatiently behind him, obviously waiting for the obligatory remarks, Hotohori rose up from the soft cushions of his throne, took a few steps forward to the edge of the vast, crimson-carpeted platform.  "People of Konan," he said firmly, strongly.  His voice shattered into the silence, a deep, commanding tone that made even Nuriko's head snap up from where it had rested, made all eyes flicker immediately onto him.  He savored the moment for an instant, let himself revel in the fact that all these gazes belonged to him, him alone...he could say anything up here, and they would listen, wouldn't they?  He could raise his arms and proclaim that he thought most of his gift-givers were pompous asses, and these people would listen, probably agree.

        Huh.  It was a...strange feeling.

        After a moment, however, Hotohori came back from his brief daydreams, cleared his throat again.  "People of Konan," he repeated.  "I am...honored by your gifts, and your kind words.  As always, all laws of curfue are revoked for the night's celebrations, and all those permitted to attend the royal dinner and ball are, of course, exempt from those laws concerning not treading on palace grounds after the gates have been closed.  Thus."  He forced an appropriate, imperial smile onto his face, raised his arms slightly.  "Let the celebration commence!"

        The crowd erupted with cheers...but, Hotohori barely heard.  He turned, retreated back to his throne feeling pale and wan and wanting only to lie down, feign illness, forget about the rest of the evening...he sat down hard on the cushions, waited as the crowd began pressing together, milling away...  Gods, all he wanted to do was lie down...he pressed a hand to his forehead, closed his eyes.

        "Hotohori-sama?"  The voice was soft, gentle...a soft wisp of air against his ear.

        He turned slightly, caught a glimpse of pale flesh, a wash of violet silk.  Hotohori sighed softly, pressed the hand more tightly against his forehead.  "What is it?"

        Nuriko was forced to press very close to be heard, his voice somehow managing to rise over the roar of the shifting crowd without being overly loud.  "I could...retire for the evening, if you'd rather go to dinner and...the ball alone."
        The young emperor glanced up at him in surprise, frowned a bit...and pictured, briefly, yet another year of being Heika-sama at dinner, Heika-sama at the ball...damn it, he was tired of being the emperor, tired of being ONLY the emperor.  His jaw clenched.  "No," he said a bit sharply, rising to his feet and, again, extending his arm to the young "lady" beside him.  "No," he added more gently, "that won't be necessary." 

        He wanted to explain more, to somehow make Nuriko understand just how precious his company was, just how important he'd become...but, the words wouldn't come, so he merely shook his head, waited for the man to accept the proffered arm, and began the long walk down to the lower levels of the palace. 

~*~*~*~

       

        "Ne, Hotohori-sama..."
        The young emperor glanced up from his meal, turned slightly to face the young man beside him.  A few eyes were on them, and on this young woman who dared address the emperor so informally...but, Hotohori found himself secretly pleased that Nuriko hadn't bothered with formalities, that he was perhaps proving to some of these pompous idiots that there was a man beneath this crown...  Suddenly realizing he'd managed to get wrapped up in his thoughts again, Hotohori forced his attention onto the man sitting beside him, raised a slim, speculative eyebrow.  "Yes?"
        Nuriko was holding his fork a bit gingerly, staring down his nose at a piece of greenish sludge that looked a lot like seaweed.  "Ne," he whispered conspiratorially, "is this supposed to be edible?"
        Hotohori smiled, glancing down at his own plate.  He, of course, had been served first, and now that he compared their meals...his lips twisted slightly downward, sank into a soft frown.  His own plate was filled with a delicate array of meats, vegetables, and other exotic food stuffs, but all of them were solid, aromatic...delicious.  He glanced, then, at Nuriko's plate...and felt his frown deepening. 

        "That looks disgusting," he said quietly.

        Nuriko shrugged, returned his fork gently to the edge of the plate.  Hotohori stared at it for a moment, taking in the thick, gooey strings of slimy greens, the moistened, soggy-looking pile of mashed potatoes...the thin sliver of dark, near-burnt chicken meat.  The violet-haired boy shrugged his slim shoulders, took a short sip from the reddish depths of his wine.  He smiled.  "The cook must be compensating...trying to make your meal look better by comparison."

        Hotohori glanced, again, to his own plate of succulent morsels...then to Nuriko's plate of pig swill...he felt a soft anger beginning to ripple through him, found his eyes straying to the other dishes, to the plates of those around him...  Their plates, he noticed, were filled with items of food much like his own--juicy chicken breasts, warm piles of red beets, generous lumps of breaded stuffing...why had Nuriko been singled out??  Suddenly irritated, Hotohori stretched out a hand, grabbed onto Nuriko's plate, and switched it with his own.

        Nuriko stared at him in surprise, as did a great many others at the table...but, he paid them no mind.  "Eat," he said quietly.  And, then, he lifted the intricately-carved silver of Nuriko's fork, dug into a mass of the slimy greens, and shoved them into his mouth.  Bits of the stuff stuck in between his teeth, hung in ugly strings over his chin, drooped back down onto the plate...but, he paid them no attention.  Ignoring the salty, bitter taste, he chewed, chewed some more...then swallowed the whole revolting mouthful.  He resisted the urge to grab for the wine, instead let his eyes raise from the plate, stare out at his guests...and he realized that all within view were staring at him as if in horror, their eyes riveted to the vile matter on his plate, the vague lines of greenish slime clinging to his chin.  And it was only then, as he finally let his attention focus on his guests...that he noticed the equally-disgusted glances being thrown in Nuriko's direction, the disdain...the...hatred?  What was going on?

        One of the servers came up behind him, tapped him lightly on the shoulder.  He turned, glared.  "What is it?"
        The server, an older man with light, tufted grey hair, bowed slightly, lifted a hand towards the plate as if to take it away.  "Heika-sama," he said quietly, "please, you shouldn't be eating such...such..."  He trailed off a bit uncomfortably.  "Such food," he concluded swiftly.  "If you'll let me take it back to the kitchen, I can get you something more suitable for dinner..."
        Hotohori fixed the man with his sternest gaze, felt the anger bubbling within him again, the indignant rage twisting through his veins.  "If it is suitable for the Lady Korin," he said slowly, angrily, "then it is suitable for an emperor...wouldn't you say?"
        The server flushed slightly, nonetheless swept a hand down and scooped up the plate.  "My apologies, your majesty," he said quietly.  "I'm sure no harm was intended towards..."  His lips twisted.  "Towards the Lady Korin."

        The rest of the meal was eaten in near-silence, only the occasional awkward murmur of conversation drifting through the grand hall as the banquet continued...but, Hotohori occasionally caught this lady or that whispering to her escort, casting surreptitious glances towards Nuriko.  As he glanced at the other man, however, he noticed that Nuriko didn't seem to be paying any attention at all to the dark glances, seemed, rather, to be wholly and totally consumed in the enjoyment of his meal.  But...  But, his jaw was lightly clenched, his muscles tense...he knew, didn't he?  Something had happened...but, what was it?  What could've bred such hatred for this kind, intelligent young man so quickly?  Shaking his head slightly, Hotohori returned to his meal...and vowed to ask Nuriko about it later, perhaps at the ball, when they were more farther removed from prying ears...

        But, it was disconcerting, having the subject of all those dark stares sitting just beside him...and more than once, he caught whisper of his own name in those hushed murmurs, felt the frown deepening on his face.  But, no...no, he would find out later...later.  Sighing softly and taking a long, deep drink from his wine, Hotohori lifted his fork and began to work on his potatoes. 

~*~*~*~

        The ball wasn't quite as excruciating as he'd thought it would be.  All in all, it was, perhaps, the most pleasant portion of the evening, granting him final and blessed reprieve from the duties of being at center stage.  Once the dancing began...he was just another man, moving gracefully over the dance floor...just another man.  Of course, all present knew that he was not just another man...but, the illusion of normality was there...and he intended to savor every minute of it. 

        At the start of the evening, he'd wondered how he was possibly going to force his way through the dancing portion, having another man for a partner...but, despite the knowledge resting within him, Nuriko was extremely convincing as a woman.  Plus, he moved with a powerful, gentle grace that made him an excellent dancing partner, and as the evening wore on, Hotohori found himself forgetting that the young woman sliding so gracefully along with him was actually a man.  And, even as he felt the realization bubbling up to the surface of his mind over and over again, telling him again and again, "Nuriko's a man.  Nuriko's a man,"...for this night, for this dance...it didn't seem to matter.  The magic of the music swept him up into its arms, let him slide freely from one side of the dance floor to the other, let him be wrapped up in the gentle melodies, the soft, practiced movements...

        And, when a slower, quieter melody began to fill the air, he pulled Nuriko more closely to him almost without thinking, let the soft, braided violet head rest against his shoulder...let the music guide his steps once more.  Nuriko melted into his embrace without so much as a word, warm and solid and real...and, as Hotohori closed his eyes lightly, swayed gently to the music...he found himself wishing he could melt away into the moment, live in it forever...  But, then the song ended, rather abruptly he thought...and then, Nuriko had distanced himself again, was flushing a bright red and staring out into the crowd, out over the vast space of the ballroom... 

        Almost instinctively, Hotohori follwed the young man's gaze, let his eyes rove through the crowd...and, again, stopped cold, faced with such looks of disgust and hatred and suspicion...  Those glares struck into him like physical blows, made him guide Nuriko carefully to the edge of the dance floor, step up onto the main floor and begin to walk towards the open doors leading out into the gardens.  Nuriko said nothing as they moved out through those doors, said nothing as they set off down one of the paths, traveled more deeply into the fragrant depths of the imperial gardens...  Finally, judging they'd gone far enough, Hotohori led the violet-haired seishi to a narrow bench beneath a sagging willow tree, waited until the smaller man had lowered himself onto it before sitting himself. 

        They sat there in silence for a long moment, listening to the soft echoes of melody whispering from the open doors of the grand ballroom...and then, Hotohori turned, regarded Nuriko with a cool, questioning stare.  "Nuriko."  His voice was quiet, firm...solid.

        The young seishi glanced up at him, eyes wide and questioning, a slight, reddish flush staining his cheeks.  "Hai?"
        "Nuriko...please.  Tell me what's going on."
        The young man raised an eyebrow.  "Going on?"
        "Hai.  With...with the food, and the glares, and..."  He shook his head, frowned slightly.  "Did something happen?"
        Nuriko immediately turned away from him, gazed down at the fingers in his lap.  "It's nothing," he said quietly.  "Please, Hotohori-sama...don't worry about it."
        The frown deepened.  "Nuriko..."
        "Honto ni.  It's nothing."  The violet-haired seishi rose to his feet, cast the young emperor a smile that never came close to touching his eyes.  "You should get back to the ball.  You know they'll miss the guest of honor if you stay away for too long..."

        Hotohori reached up a hand, latched onto Nuriko's arm.  The smaller seishi stared down at him in surprise, looked for a moment as if he was going to wrench free...but, he didn't.  Instead, he let out a soft breath through parted lips, let his shoulders slump...let himself be guided back down onto the bench. 

        "It's really nothing," he said quietly.  Once more, his eyes were trained onto the soft, kneading joints of his fingers, most of his face hidden by the dangling braids.  "It's just...some of the court...knows about me."
        Hotohori felt a jolt of shock run through him, stared at Nuriko blankly for a long moment.  "Knows about you?" he echoed carefully.

        Nuriko nodded, flushing again.  "Hai, Hotohori-sama.  Not all of them...not your advisors, anyway...but, most of the court ladies, most of the harem..."  His eyes closed lightly.  "Most of them know."  He shifted a bit uncomfortably in his seat, somehow managed to dredge up a slim smile.  "But, it's all right.  Nothing I can't handle."
        The young emperor shook his head, stared at Nuriko in shocked disbelief.  "But...but, you've gone for so long, without anyone discovering you.  How did they..."  And then, suddenly, painfully...he knew.  It had been just after they'd returned...he'd been sitting on his balcony, trying to carry on a rational conversation with Tamahome...  His guards had been stationed at the doors, of course, but he hadn't paid them any attention, had learned, by now, to simply ignore them and go on with his life as normal...but, gods, he'd slipped...he'd called Nuriko a 'he' during their conversation more than once...  The guards must've realized the portent of the slip-up, spread the word around...gods.  Gods...this was his fault...wasn't it??
        And...Nuriko knew it.

        "I'm sorry, Hotohori-sama," he said softly.  His eyes were downcast, his hands folded neatly in his lap...his shoulders slightly hunched.  Gods, he looked so fragile, so delicate...

        Hotohori stared at him for a long moment, shook his head.  "Sorry for what?"
        "For embarrassing you."  His voice was scarcely a whisper.  "The court knows that you know I'm a man...and they know you...spent the evening with me, anyway.  I'm sorry.  I...I knew it was a bad idea, but..."  He trailed off, shook his head.  "But, I was selfish.  I'm sorry."

        He shook his head, a slight frown creasing at the smooth skin of his forehead.  "Selfish?" he echoed.  "I...I don't understand."
        Nuriko glanced up at him as if from the depths of misery, offered him a thin, weary smile.  "Isn't it obvious?" he murmured.  "I'm in love with you, Hotohori-sama."
        And, then Nuriko rose from the bench, swept his skirts up into his slim hands, and disappeared down the path, fading into the shadows of the gardens with nothing more than a soft swish of cloth to mark his passing.

        Hotohori sat there on the edge of the bench for a long time, gazing dully at the shadowed beauty surrounding him, Nuriko's soft, flippant words echoing painfully in his ears.  In love with him?  Nuriko was...Nuriko was in love with him??  His first impulse was to succumb to his earlier urge, run up to his bed and sink beneath the covers for the rest of eternity...but, his second impulse was to rise slowly to his feet, begin to make the slow trek after Nuriko, into the darker, more secluded areas of the gardens.  After all...no matter what he might feel, Nuriko was a human being...and a fellow Suzaku shichiseishi!  To have him disrespected like this...to have him hated like this for who he was, what he felt...it was despicable.  Suddenly moved by the irate indignation blazing within him, Hotohori charged forward down the path, began glancing left and right for some sign of Nuriko.

        He came to a sudden, shocked halt in the center of the path, felt a shiver of guilt run through his body, shudder up his spine.  Soft...choking sobs...echoing from just off the path, from a thicket of willow trees...gods.  Careful to keep his movements swift and quiet, his steps silent, Hotohori left the safety of the path, took a long step into the darkened shadows.  After a few moments of silent, careful steps, he reached the edge of the thicket, peered in...and felt his breath catch in his lungs. 

        Nuriko lay weakly on top of a large, flat grey stone, his slim fingers clutching onto the ragged edges, his silken skirts flooding around his shivering body like a shroud...his face buried beneath a mass of wild, loosened violet hair.  His sobs were quiet, choked, as if he were holding them back, pushing them away...but, his slim body shook with every breath, and what did escape of his sobs was almost painful to listen to.  Before he could give himself a chance to reconsider his actions, Hotohori swept silently forward, moved to the edge of the rock...and wrapped his arms around those slim shoulders, held onto them firmly, strongly.

        Nuriko gasped at the touch, tried to twist in his arms, stare back at him through the darkness...but, Hotohori held onto him, pulled him gently up from the rock, tugged him into a standing embrace.  Nuriko fought him for a moment, trying to tug away...but then, he let out a heavy, weary breath, collapsed into the young emperor's arms and began to cry again.  He didn't hold back this time, let the heavy, anguished sobs wrack his slim frame, echo into the soft, warm fabric of Hotohori's robes...and, the young emperor held onto him as he cried, brushed gently at his hair, spoke low, soothing words of comfort into his ear.  And finally, when the violet-haired seishi had spent the last of his tears, Hotohori tugged the edge of his sleeve into his fingers, lifted it, and gently dabbed the last of the wetness from those pale cheeks, brushed away the last of the tears.

        "I'm sorry," Nuriko whispered, averting his eyes, staring out into the dark shadows of the forest with a heavy flush creeping into his cheeks.  "I...I didn't mean to...I didn't want to..."  He squeezed his eyes closed.  "I'm sorry."
        One strong, comforting arm still around the young seishi's shoulders, Hotohori lowered himself onto the edge of the rock, watched as Nuriko reluctantly did the same. 

        "What will you do now?" Hotohori asked softly.

        Nuriko glanced up at him as if in surprise, stared at him for a long moment...then, lowered his eyes, sighed softly.  "I don't know.  I suppose I could start dressing like a man, again, but..."  He shook his head, managed a slim smile.  "But, old habits die hard.  I don't know if I'd even remember how to be a man anymore."
        Hotohori smiled.  "As it turns out, I know a great deal about being a man."
        Nuriko matched the smile, brushed reflexivey at the light sheen of tears still staining his cheeks.  "I see," he said quietly.  "And, you'd be willing to..."  He raised an eyebrow.  "Teach me?"
        The young emperor shrugged slightly.  "If you wanted me to...I suppose I could give you a few pointers."
        Nuriko opened his mouth to reply...but stopped, startled, as a thick rustling echoed from the path, and a glimpse of color and movement slid into view.  A moment later, a member of the royal guard had stepped into the clearing, was gazing at the two of them with hard, narrowed eyes.

        "Heika-sama," the man said formally, bowing slightly before them.  "Will you be returning to the ball with your..."  His lip curled.  "With the Lady Korin?"
        Hotohori rose to his feet, smiled slightly at the guard.  "Hai, the Lady Korin and I will be returning to the ball shortly."  His voice hardened, then, grew harsh.  "And, I don't think that I need to remind you of this young woman's importance...or of the fact that she is a Suzaku shichiseishi, and thus holds higher rank in this kingdom than you, my advisors, or anyone else."  His eyes darkened.  "For that matter, I consider Nuriko to be my equal, and if I catch wind of you or anyone else disrespecting him in any way..."  He shook his head, let the threat trail off.  "Then, I will be forced to take immediate action."
        The guard stared at him in blank horror for a moment...then, lowered himself to the ground, bowed reverently.  "Hai, Heika-sama."

        Hotohori nodded curtly.  "Good.  Return to the ball.  Nuriko and I will be in shortly."
        "Hai."
        There was a surge of parting brush, the echoing thud of footsteps...and, then the man was gone, and they were once more alone.  They remained in silence for a long moment, Hotohori standing just before the flattened stone, Nuriko resting on the edge...and then, Hotohori turned, let out a soft breath through his nostrils.  He held out an arm.  "Shall we?"
        Nuriko stared at the arm for a long moment, looking confused and awed all at the same time...and then, he rose to his feet, slipped his own, slimmer arm into Hotohori's grasp, and began the short walk back towards the path.  They danced for most of the evening, ignoring the occasional murmur of gossip, ignoring the frequent stares...and, when the night's festivities ended, Nuriko was escorted back to his rooms by no less than Hotohori himself, granted a soft, pleased smile and a chaste but warm-hearted handshake.

        Not quite the culmination to the evening he'd been hoping for...but, somehow...it was all right.

        Leaning lightly against the edge of the door, Nuriko smirked, met Hotohori's soft, amber-tinted gaze.  "Ne, Hotohori-sama...when do my 'man lessons' begin?"
        Hotohori matched the smile, tucked his hands gently within the folds of his robes.  "How's tomorrow?"
        Nuriko's smile lifted.  "Perfect."
        He crawled into bed that night with a smile on his lips, and a new, spreading warmth in his heart.  And, it wasn't because he'd spent the night in the arms of the man he'd lusted after for so long, wasn't because he'd finally born his soul to this man and hadn't been skewered in return...no.  It was because he knew, deep within, that finally...finally...he was loved.

        True, Hotohori's love was the chaste love of friendship...but, gods, it was more than he could've ever hoped for.  Despite his longings for the quick arrival of the morning, Nuriko slept well, had pleasant dreams...and arose just as the sun was cresting up over the distant hills.

        The smile still played on his lips.

~*~*~*~

~end...for now, anyway.  ^_^.