Thank you all for your comments! 3
- - -
Beside Ayame, Momiji yawned. The moon was drifting towards the horizon. Ayame estimated it was nearing three in the morning. He felt a nudge against his shoulder and glanced over to Momiji. The boy had fallen asleep, and was lightly resting his head on Ayame's arm.
Ayame smiled at the look of peace on Momiji's sleeping face, then slowly moved both feet back onto the bridge. He turned, careful not to move Momiji. Ayame knelt and scooped Momiji's body into his arms, cradling the boy's head on his shoulder. Walking slowly, so as not to wake him, Ayame crossed the bridge.
"Must have been really tired," Ayame murmured, and paused, surveying all the dark houses. Which one belonged to the boy in his arms? He felt a surge of panic, and looked around for any houses with lights.
Ever since Ayame had been little, he had shirked any responsibility he had been given. Eventually everyone around him had grown used to this, instead of correcting it. Ayame was, after all, a Jyuunishi. They didn't know what Jyuunishi were supposed to act like. Hatori had been one of the most sympathetic towards him, cleaning up his mistakes and messes as a child, as class president, as the young owner of an independent business.
'How do you know what you are supposed to do when no one will tell you?' Hatori had asked in amazement the first time the younger Jyuunishi had gotten away with a minor transgression in his presence. Hatori had lectured Ayame about the importance of following rules set by the elders, and Ayame had been puzzled and explained to Hatori that all of this was new to him. Neither had understood the other, but Hatori had accepted it.
Ayame quickly got over his brief burst of alarm at holding responsibility over another person, even for this moment. He decided that Momiji could sleep in one of the spare rooms that he had in the house set up for him here. He would do just as well there. Ayame wandered along the paths between the Souma houses, trying to remember the path to his. Past two houses, a right, three more houses, a left, then to the second house.
The one with the wind chime Ayame had put up last time he had stayed here, a good two years ago. It was one of almost a dozen vacant houses. Before he had arrived, it had been cleaned, and fresh futons had been stacked next to one of the walls.
With difficulty, Ayame managed to set up a futon and lay Momiji on it, hesitating to let the source of warmth leave him. He glanced at the boy, and unconsciously leaned forward to brush the hair away from his closed eyes. He had forgotten how it felt to actually touch another person, to acknowledge their solidness. Ayame felt something twist inside.
'You've never made such a caring gesture for Yuki,' part of his mind taunted, 'and here you are, doing this for an almost total stranger. What a good brother you are.' Ayame let the words fade and sighed. He didn't want to think anymore about his family tonight. Later he could deal with it.
He wearily laid out another futon, too tired to move either himself or Momiji into another room, even though this space was a tad cramped. He unbuttoned his outer robe, and pushed it into a corner. Ayame was left, white hair on white cotton, his under robe. He sat down and looked over at Momiji. How odd it was he had found him this night, had told Ayame what he needed to hear, and to soothe him into a more or less calm state. How lucky, too.
Ayame sighed and laid down, drifting off to sleep as he pulled over his covers.
- - -
Beside Ayame, Momiji yawned. The moon was drifting towards the horizon. Ayame estimated it was nearing three in the morning. He felt a nudge against his shoulder and glanced over to Momiji. The boy had fallen asleep, and was lightly resting his head on Ayame's arm.
Ayame smiled at the look of peace on Momiji's sleeping face, then slowly moved both feet back onto the bridge. He turned, careful not to move Momiji. Ayame knelt and scooped Momiji's body into his arms, cradling the boy's head on his shoulder. Walking slowly, so as not to wake him, Ayame crossed the bridge.
"Must have been really tired," Ayame murmured, and paused, surveying all the dark houses. Which one belonged to the boy in his arms? He felt a surge of panic, and looked around for any houses with lights.
Ever since Ayame had been little, he had shirked any responsibility he had been given. Eventually everyone around him had grown used to this, instead of correcting it. Ayame was, after all, a Jyuunishi. They didn't know what Jyuunishi were supposed to act like. Hatori had been one of the most sympathetic towards him, cleaning up his mistakes and messes as a child, as class president, as the young owner of an independent business.
'How do you know what you are supposed to do when no one will tell you?' Hatori had asked in amazement the first time the younger Jyuunishi had gotten away with a minor transgression in his presence. Hatori had lectured Ayame about the importance of following rules set by the elders, and Ayame had been puzzled and explained to Hatori that all of this was new to him. Neither had understood the other, but Hatori had accepted it.
Ayame quickly got over his brief burst of alarm at holding responsibility over another person, even for this moment. He decided that Momiji could sleep in one of the spare rooms that he had in the house set up for him here. He would do just as well there. Ayame wandered along the paths between the Souma houses, trying to remember the path to his. Past two houses, a right, three more houses, a left, then to the second house.
The one with the wind chime Ayame had put up last time he had stayed here, a good two years ago. It was one of almost a dozen vacant houses. Before he had arrived, it had been cleaned, and fresh futons had been stacked next to one of the walls.
With difficulty, Ayame managed to set up a futon and lay Momiji on it, hesitating to let the source of warmth leave him. He glanced at the boy, and unconsciously leaned forward to brush the hair away from his closed eyes. He had forgotten how it felt to actually touch another person, to acknowledge their solidness. Ayame felt something twist inside.
'You've never made such a caring gesture for Yuki,' part of his mind taunted, 'and here you are, doing this for an almost total stranger. What a good brother you are.' Ayame let the words fade and sighed. He didn't want to think anymore about his family tonight. Later he could deal with it.
He wearily laid out another futon, too tired to move either himself or Momiji into another room, even though this space was a tad cramped. He unbuttoned his outer robe, and pushed it into a corner. Ayame was left, white hair on white cotton, his under robe. He sat down and looked over at Momiji. How odd it was he had found him this night, had told Ayame what he needed to hear, and to soothe him into a more or less calm state. How lucky, too.
Ayame sighed and laid down, drifting off to sleep as he pulled over his covers.