Haku watched the last of the day's sunlight disappear from the rapidly darkening sky, and a scattering of stars awaken in the heavens. Sighing, he sat down on his futon, rubbing his aching shoulder.
Despite his calm exterior, inside, Haku was fretting. His heart was beating against his ribs like a dove beats its wings against the bars of a cage; his stomach felt as if it were tying itself into knots. And all over a few simple questions, he thought wryly. Taking a deep breath, Haku went over the questions in his mind once more, determined to get some answers out of Kii. How did you get here? Where are you from? Why are you here? Those were the only three, among so many others, that he was allowing himself to ask; but behind every other thought were more and more questions. Why do you make me feel this way? Why do you let them touch you? Haku shook his head. He couldn't let himself get distracted.
He knew Kii wouldn't arrive at his room for some time yet; the spirits themselves were just waking up, and Kii had a full schedule almost every day. Haku tried to imagine what it was like for him: wake up in the morning, get dressed, comb all his silky black hair into the neat bun at the base of his neck. Tune his lute, take a look in the mirror to make sure his kimono hung off of him just so, giving the casual onlooker just enough of a glimpse of flawless porcelain skin to make them want more.
Haku had a sudden image of Kii praying before the gray kimono in the glass case in his room. Whose could it have been? It was too big for Kii's lithe frame, and though Kii's appearance and mannerisms mimicked those of a woman's, the kimono was far too feminine to be his. Could it have been his mother's? Haku, being a river spirit, had never had a mother, other than the earth from which his river had once sprung. He somehow doubted that the kimono belonged to Kii's mother. Whose, then? A lover? Haku's stomach twisted oddly. No. It couldn't be. It was not.
Haku glanced outside. It was now full night, and he could hear the cacophony of the bathhouse below his rooms. Kii would be down there by now, tending to his customers. Officially, he was a musician, whose job was to soothe the customers with the songs of his lute and the sound of his voice. Too often, however, his clients wanted—and got—more. How often, Haku wondered, is he forced to let that red kimono slip down past his shoulders? How often will he shudder in revulsion at the touch of a stranger, moan and arch his back and cry out in pretended ecstasy?
Does he hate himself? Is he ashamed?
Haku lay back on his futon and stared up at the ceiling. As I hate myself, he thought slowly. As I am ashamed.
He heard Kii's quiet step outside the door.
As before, Kii knocked twice, then opened the door and stepped inside the room. Haku sat up suddenly, then winced and grunted as his shoulder twinged in protest of the movement. Kii knelt on the floor.
"You're hurt," he observed quietly.
Haku straightened. "I have some questions I want to ask you. How—"
"Let me see," Kii interrupted.
Haku shook his head. "It's only a bruise. It isn't bad. Now how did—"
"Let me see it," Kii repeated, a little more forcefully. He set his lute aside.
Reluctantly, Haku slipped his shirt down off his shoulder, bearing the purple-black bruise there. Kii leaned forward to take a closer look; Haku could feel his breath on his skin. Raising one delicate hand, Kii ran two fingers lightly over the bruise, as if trying to make sure it was real. His touch sent chills dancing up Haku's spine, and he shivered. Kii blinked and leaned back again. "How did you hurt yourself?"
"Flying," Haku replied, still feeling tingly. "There was a gust of wind; I was thrown into a ravine."
"Ah." Kii's kimono slipped off of his left shoulder, and he moved to pull it back up; Haku's hand moved on its own and stopped him. Kii looked at him blankly, but said nothing.
Haku took a breath. "I want to ask you some questions."
Kii stared at him. His eyes glowed with the light of the moon, and he licked his lips: a slow, sensual motion that made Haku's heart jump. "What questions?" Kii asked innocently, and Haku kissed him.
Kii didn't seem to react with surprise or disgust: he didn't seem to react at all. After a moment Haku pulled away, releasing Kii's hand. He could feel his cheeks burning with shame.
"So you're not interested in a lullaby tonight," Kii observed quietly, and leaned forward to kiss Haku again. Kii's movements were gentle and slow compared to the desperate and panicky advance of Haku; being more experienced, he knew how to kiss someone. And he did, closing his eyes and touching Haku's throat in a way that sent sparks flying all through Haku's body. He moved to touch Kii, but his hands were shaking and Kii's lips on his felt like fire, the gentle touch of his tongue stoking a flame that was burning inside both of them.
Haku pulled away, put his hands on Kii's shoulders, and pushed him down onto the hard wooden floor away from his futon. Kii made a tiny uff! sound as his back hit the floor and the air was forced out of his lungs, and reality came rushing back to Haku in a flood.
"I—I'm sorry," Haku gasped, his heart still pounding. He straightened, giving room for Kii to sit up. "I shouldn't—I can't do this to you."
Kii only stared at him, propped up on his elbows. His kimono had fallen partway open, exposing his chest and abdomen, and he lay almost in the same position Haku had pushed him into—with his legs apart, bent at the knees. Haku swallowed hard. "Every night you—you let people touch you. You let them touch you and grope you and humiliate you, all for money." Kii sat up the rest of the way, pulling his kimono closed. "I can't do that to you. I can't be like them."
"Don't be so melodramatic," Kii murmured, and kissed Haku again, pressing close. Haku stiffened, then relaxed as Kii stroked his face, pushing him down the other way, back onto the futon. Kii had on knee between Haku's legs and was now kissing his neck, letting each movement bring them closer together. Haku touched Kii's bare skin underneath his kimono, then smiled as Kii made a little delighted sound. Together they pulled his kimono off and cast it aside.
