Disclaimer: Although I may wish with all of my heart that I own the seishi, they belong to Watase-san…but I can still dream, can't I? ^-^;;
My author's note/responses:
Valy – ya…that's kind of the idea ^^;;
JupiterHalo – thank you for liking it…I'm not sure about the updating tho' x_x
Junnanagous-girl13 – well, there ya go, it's the next chapter ^^;
Scarlet.tennyo – yup, you got to read it, but here it is again…in it's shounen ai prime ^^;;
Italics = thoughts
Recap:
Miaka pulled away, feeling she should not show her feelings towards him anymore, she saw someone moving away from the window, only catching the view of stricken golden eyes, full of drowned hope, and loss.
Hotohori?
Chapter three: Bruises
Miaka's eyes widened as she realizes who that person was.
Hotohori? What were you…? Then it dawned on her. This is…the east wing…that means that Hotohori…his rooms are over here, and he saw…
Tamahome, meanwhile, was too busy wallowing in his thoughts to have noticed Hotohori at the window, or the confusion on Miaka's face.
I have to leave here as soon as possible, so as to not worry anyone…and so that I don't cause Miaka any more pain than I already have.
Miaka turned away from the thoughts she had, and toward Tamahome.
"Let's go in, Tamahome. The others should be just waking up, and they will be expecting us at breakfast. Let's leave." She grabbed his hand, and led him away from the grove, hoping that Hotohori had not heard their conversation. He hadn't…but a certain masked early riser had, as he sat enjoying the sunlight.
Miaka and Tamahome…after all that they went through for the sake of their love, they're just throwing it all away now? And they weren't planning on telling us seishi, I can imagine. It is probably best though, for knowing some of us, the reactions will not be pleasant.
He rose from his seat by the side of the lake, and put his mask on, talking to himself.
"Life is full of choices, no da. We can only try to make the right ones." With that, he took one last look at the sunlight, before heading in, to awaken a certain fiery haired bandit, who was still out like a light.
Chichiri knocked on the door, and was not surprised when he heard a muffled groan followed by a mumbled "Go 'way!" This is what usually happened, but nonetheless, he knocked every time before entering. The door swung open with little force, to reveal to the blue-haired monk a room in disarray, with the table and chairs strewn about in no organized manner at all. Tasuki lay on his bed, nursing the hangover that he had just woken up to.
Tasuki opened one pained, angered amber eye to look at Chichiri, finally acknowledging his presence. He let out a long sigh, before saying, "'Morning, 'chiri…" He shut his eye again, ashamed that he was showing this side of his personality (the drunk side) to Chichiri yet again.
Chichiri shook his head at Tasuki. Tasuki, you have to stop drinking like this. You always get yourself drunk, and then are miserable the next day. I wish you'd stop. Another thought appeared in his head, but he quickly suppressed it. He walked over to the door, and picked up a bowl of cold water that the servants had left there this morning. Apparently, they too could recognize when Tasuki had gone to an inn and had a few too many drinks.
He took a cloth out of the bowl of water, and silently wrung all of the excess water out of it, before walking over to Tasuki's bed.
Tasuki was a mess. His hair was disheveled, and he still had on the pants from yesterday, his shirt off and lying on the floor on the path leading from the door to the bed, but that wasn't what Chichiri noticed. Tasuki had one black eye, and scratches and bruises that were marking his normally smooth, light tan skin. Chichiri sighed.
"You got into another bar fight, no da..," he stated, his voice calm, hiding his anger that Tasuki was so reckless, and his fear that one day, bruises and cuts weren't going to be the only things that Tasuki came home with.
Tasuki rolled over, to face away from Chichiri, flinching at how blank the voice was. "What's it to you?" His voice came out harsher than he had meant, but Chichiri knew that he was just tired.
Chichiri switched his voice out of its normal happy go lucky falsetto, becoming serious, slipping off his mask as well.
"You've got to stop doing this" He laid his hand on Tasuki's back, tracing his fingers lightly over the cuts and bruises there. Quietly, he added, "You're hurting yourself." You're hurting me by doing this.
Tasuki shivered under Chichiri's touch, his gently fingers being alien to the bandit. He turned over, opening his eyes to look at Chichiri. Looking into his eyes, he could see the unspoken words, and he quickly looked away, sighing, defeated.
Chichiri put the cloth back in the bowl, forgotten for the moment, and went to a chest of drawers, opening a select one to pull out a jar of salve. He brought it over to Tasuki, and sat down next to him as he moved over to make room. Gently, Chichiri took the salve and eased it on every cut, making sure to be careful around the dark bruises. Then he took cloth and bandaged the deep cuts, before getting up and silently putting the supplies back in the drawer.
Tasuki sighed. "Thanks, 'chiri…" he murmured, as his head continued to implode, or at least that's what it felt like to him.
Chichiri turned to look at Tasuki, his one eye regarding him closely, before going back and bringing the bowl to the bed, ringing out the cloth, then putting it on Tasuki's forehead.
"You should get some more sleep…no da." Noticing Tasuki's reluctance, he added, "Miaka wouldn't leave without saying goodbye to everyone."
Tasuki closed his eyes, "Do ya think that we'll ever see 'er again? After she leaves, that is…"
Chichiri closed his eye, "Miaka would never forget about us, no da. She will come back, when she misses us, no da, I'm sure of it. Now go to sleep, no da."
Tasuki smiled slightly, before allowing himself to drift off to sleep. Chichiri gazed at the calm, childlike expression on the bandit's face, one that few see. He reached out a hand to caress the redhead's pale cheek, replaced the damp cloth on his forehead, and then quietly stepped out of the room.
Someday…all will be different.
Author's Note:
Hillo minna. I'm really glad if you like reading this ficcy…but you see I have a problem here. I'm completely stuck as to what to do with it…any ideas? Lately, I'm lacking in the creativity department, and I need all the help I can get from you reviewers…so any help will be greatly appreciated! Just add your ideas onto the reviews, and I'll take each and every one in to consideration!
~Shinime