Rumours
The moon hung in the sky like a giant white petal, and Homura waited in the arbour among the cherry trees. More blossom had fallen as he sat there, and lay crusted on the sleeves of his cape in uncrushed drifts, bleached of all colour. He had arrived at the first hour after midnight, thinking it more interesting to watch any potential ambushers get into position than to be their victim, and it was almost a pity that nobody had yet turned up brandishing swords and muttering conspiratorially to each other.
And besides -- what else did he have to do with his time, anyhow?
A pale figure turned the corner at the far end of the arched trees which led in rows to the arbour, and began pacing slowly towards him. A brief gust of wind flapped the skirts of a white labcoat, bleached of stains and smears in the moonlight, and the loop of a dark necktie showed against the collar of his shirt like a noose. He paused, halfway down the lane of trees, to light a cigarette.
Homura waited patiently.
The man jerked into motion again, strolling along under the cherry trees as though he was going to meet a lover. Homura recognised him now -- Marshal Tenpou, unsullied in matters of war, but with a reputation that had a slightly questionable flavour in certain quarters. A popular target for disapproval, though also reputed to be one of the most dangerous men in Heaven.
Of course Litouten's little jibe had gone the rounds. They say you act as General Kenren's wife . . . And of course it had come to mind when he wanted to insult the General.
It had certainly worked, he could say that much for it.
Homura chose to wait as the Marshal approached, leaning back against the carved stone of the bench, and kept his face still. Either the Marshal was the person who arranged the rendezvous, in which case he wanted to negotiate from a position of equality, or this was pure coincidence -- and in that case hopefully the Marshal would leave him alone and go wherever he was going.
Marshal Tenpou came to a halt a few yards away, and leaned against one of the cherry trees. A few petals drifted down, tilting this way and that on the faint breeze. The Marshal watched them till they touched the ground. Moonlight made blank panes of his glasses as he tilted his head.
Homura waited.
"Do you smoke?" the Marshal asked.
"No," he answered, monosyllabic.
"Do you mind if I smoke?"
"Would it make a difference?"
"Yes," the Marshal said, and smiled. "Yes, actually, it would."
That wasn't part of the conversation which he'd outlined in his head. "Oh," he said blankly. "Well, thank you, but it doesn't matter."
"Anh." The Marshal drew on his cigarette. It glowed an earthly red against the backdrop of blacks and whites. "You're probably wondering why I asked you to meet me here."
"I am curious." Homura threw out the statement like a lure, waiting to see what it would draw, and tried to repress the feeling of being very far out of his depth. He couldn't read the other man's eyes, posture, anything. His chains whispered together as he shifted his hands.
"No guesses? No, seriously. I -- would find it interesting to know a little about how you think, and what you think."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Why? What do you want?"
"That's a dangerous question to ask someone when you have no idea what they might answer. They might say anything at all."
"Yes, well. It's not as if I know you."
"There are always rumours." The Marshal let his tone dip slightly on the last word, stressing it.
"Plenty of rumours," Homura agreed amiably, and tasted bile, and wished that he was standing rather than sitting down.
"I'm glad that you're aware of rumours." Marshal Tenpou smiled; a sudden, friendly, open smile.
"Why?"
"Because a man who isn't aware of what's going on around him is a man in a very dangerous position. Especially at the moment. Would you agree?"
They were alone in an ocean of silence, in a fishbowl of pale cherry blossom and darker grass and darkest sky. "Am I in a dangerous position?"
"Probably." The Marshal shrugged. "I'm sure you've noticed."
"Are you threatening me?"
"Do you want me to?"
Homura took a deep breath, but he didn't move his eyes from the other man, any more than he would have from a coiled snake. "What do you want?"
"Seriously?" The Marshal dropped the butt of his cigarette, and ground it out with one toilet-slippered foot. "I'm proposing an alliance."
Is that what he calls it. Homura had been courted, to soften the word, in various ways since leaving his cell. Some thought that he actually had influence with the Emperor, appearances aside, and others found him or his lineage attractive in some way, perverse as either might be. So far he had been able to avoid those who felt that his compliance -- his proper obedience -- would be automatic. Even if this was a more courteous approach than earlier ones had been, and certainly more camouflaged . . .
"No, not like that," Marshal Tenpou broke in on his thoughts. His voice was edged in the way that a razor holds an edge, cutting deep and drawing blood a second before the pain comes. "You're too young for me." A beat. "And you're not very good at hiding your thoughts. That's why."
With what seemed to be one of the greatest efforts of self-control in his life, Homura returned the other man's cold-eyed gaze. "Be more specific, then, Marshal. Rumour has its limits."
The Marshal gave a fraction of a nod. "I shall be blunt. Heaven needs a toushin taishi."
"Heaven has a toushin taishi," Homura pointed out. Everyone knew about Nataku, and certainly everyone knew about Nataku's father. "Unless the current one has some health problem . . ."
"Unfortunately not." The Marshal lit another cigarette, his raised hand shielding his mouth for a moment. "Heaven needs another toushin taishi. If you are willing to cooperate, then you could be in a position to use your . . . heritage, rather than have it use you."
Homura raised his brows. "You mean the fact that I'm itan? Call a spade a spade, Marshal."
"If you wish." A shrug. "It is a word. At certain times, it has been interpreted . . . with different degrees of precision. At the moment, it sets you outside society. However, the toushin taishi is outside society in any case. But what the toushin taishi has, that you do not have, Homura, is power."
The word hung in the air between them.
Homura had thought of freedom many times. He'd hoped for acceptance. He'd dreamed of love. He'd never before realised quite how powerful a temptation power could be, because he'd never considered it as a possibility. But . . . "Nataku is toushin taishi," he said, working to keep his voice calm, "and nobody could say that Nataku has any sort of control over his life."
"Ah." Marshal Tenpou smiled. "But I don't want a tool. I want an ally."
Homura frowned, then smiled, a bright unchancy smile, as understanding began to slowly shape itself in his mind. "You want a second toushin to destroy Litouten's power base as father and master of the current toushin. You want an itan for that." He raised his hands, and let the links of chain swing. "You want a lot of things, Marshal, for very little return."
The Marshal nodded, face mild. "Quite so. You will be a target for Litouten, and possibly for others. You might well die in the line of duty. It's been known."
"And what do I get for this?"
"Why don't you tell me?"
Power. "The chance to have a choice, for once," Homura said slowly. Power. "Allies. You, and others. Because you wouldn't try this on your own." Power. "A position which, if nothing else, would keep me occupied." Power.
"All of these," Marshal Tenpou said, "and something else, as proof of my sincerity."
Homura tilted a hand, waiting to see what sort of bribe the other thought could buy him.
"I have contacts in the bureaucracy." The Marshal's eyes were suddenly deadly flat, deadly level. "She has only just been sentenced to earth; she will not have been born yet, will only just have been conceived. But we can find your Rinrei."
Something in Homura's throat knotted. He shut his eyes, opened them again, looked at the other man. "How do you know her name?"
"Some people listen to rumours. Some people try to find out the truth behind them. A man's private life is his own business. It's a pity that -- what happened to the two of you happened."
"Some people still have what they have," he spat, angry enough to be careless.
"Heaven isn't fair," the Marshal said. "Get used to it. Or learn to use it."
"Are those the only choices we have?"
Marshal Tenpou removed the cigarette from his mouth, and exhaled a long breath of smoke. "Sad, isn't it? And this is Heaven. You almost wonder if Under Heaven would be better."
"So . . ." He considered. "May I ask a question?"
"Please do."
"What do you actually want out of this?"
The other man focused on the end of his cigarette. "I want . . . a lot of things, Homura. I don't expect to get all of them. What I need, for the moment, is you willing to be toushin taishi."
"That you can have."
"Good. Come along, then; we have a lot to do, and little time to do it in."
"Even in Heaven?"
"Especially in Heaven."
---
The moon hung in the sky like a giant white petal, and Homura waited in the arbour among the cherry trees. More blossom had fallen as he sat there, and lay crusted on the sleeves of his cape in uncrushed drifts, bleached of all colour. He had arrived at the first hour after midnight, thinking it more interesting to watch any potential ambushers get into position than to be their victim, and it was almost a pity that nobody had yet turned up brandishing swords and muttering conspiratorially to each other.
And besides -- what else did he have to do with his time, anyhow?
A pale figure turned the corner at the far end of the arched trees which led in rows to the arbour, and began pacing slowly towards him. A brief gust of wind flapped the skirts of a white labcoat, bleached of stains and smears in the moonlight, and the loop of a dark necktie showed against the collar of his shirt like a noose. He paused, halfway down the lane of trees, to light a cigarette.
Homura waited patiently.
The man jerked into motion again, strolling along under the cherry trees as though he was going to meet a lover. Homura recognised him now -- Marshal Tenpou, unsullied in matters of war, but with a reputation that had a slightly questionable flavour in certain quarters. A popular target for disapproval, though also reputed to be one of the most dangerous men in Heaven.
Of course Litouten's little jibe had gone the rounds. They say you act as General Kenren's wife . . . And of course it had come to mind when he wanted to insult the General.
It had certainly worked, he could say that much for it.
Homura chose to wait as the Marshal approached, leaning back against the carved stone of the bench, and kept his face still. Either the Marshal was the person who arranged the rendezvous, in which case he wanted to negotiate from a position of equality, or this was pure coincidence -- and in that case hopefully the Marshal would leave him alone and go wherever he was going.
Marshal Tenpou came to a halt a few yards away, and leaned against one of the cherry trees. A few petals drifted down, tilting this way and that on the faint breeze. The Marshal watched them till they touched the ground. Moonlight made blank panes of his glasses as he tilted his head.
Homura waited.
"Do you smoke?" the Marshal asked.
"No," he answered, monosyllabic.
"Do you mind if I smoke?"
"Would it make a difference?"
"Yes," the Marshal said, and smiled. "Yes, actually, it would."
That wasn't part of the conversation which he'd outlined in his head. "Oh," he said blankly. "Well, thank you, but it doesn't matter."
"Anh." The Marshal drew on his cigarette. It glowed an earthly red against the backdrop of blacks and whites. "You're probably wondering why I asked you to meet me here."
"I am curious." Homura threw out the statement like a lure, waiting to see what it would draw, and tried to repress the feeling of being very far out of his depth. He couldn't read the other man's eyes, posture, anything. His chains whispered together as he shifted his hands.
"No guesses? No, seriously. I -- would find it interesting to know a little about how you think, and what you think."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Why? What do you want?"
"That's a dangerous question to ask someone when you have no idea what they might answer. They might say anything at all."
"Yes, well. It's not as if I know you."
"There are always rumours." The Marshal let his tone dip slightly on the last word, stressing it.
"Plenty of rumours," Homura agreed amiably, and tasted bile, and wished that he was standing rather than sitting down.
"I'm glad that you're aware of rumours." Marshal Tenpou smiled; a sudden, friendly, open smile.
"Why?"
"Because a man who isn't aware of what's going on around him is a man in a very dangerous position. Especially at the moment. Would you agree?"
They were alone in an ocean of silence, in a fishbowl of pale cherry blossom and darker grass and darkest sky. "Am I in a dangerous position?"
"Probably." The Marshal shrugged. "I'm sure you've noticed."
"Are you threatening me?"
"Do you want me to?"
Homura took a deep breath, but he didn't move his eyes from the other man, any more than he would have from a coiled snake. "What do you want?"
"Seriously?" The Marshal dropped the butt of his cigarette, and ground it out with one toilet-slippered foot. "I'm proposing an alliance."
Is that what he calls it. Homura had been courted, to soften the word, in various ways since leaving his cell. Some thought that he actually had influence with the Emperor, appearances aside, and others found him or his lineage attractive in some way, perverse as either might be. So far he had been able to avoid those who felt that his compliance -- his proper obedience -- would be automatic. Even if this was a more courteous approach than earlier ones had been, and certainly more camouflaged . . .
"No, not like that," Marshal Tenpou broke in on his thoughts. His voice was edged in the way that a razor holds an edge, cutting deep and drawing blood a second before the pain comes. "You're too young for me." A beat. "And you're not very good at hiding your thoughts. That's why."
With what seemed to be one of the greatest efforts of self-control in his life, Homura returned the other man's cold-eyed gaze. "Be more specific, then, Marshal. Rumour has its limits."
The Marshal gave a fraction of a nod. "I shall be blunt. Heaven needs a toushin taishi."
"Heaven has a toushin taishi," Homura pointed out. Everyone knew about Nataku, and certainly everyone knew about Nataku's father. "Unless the current one has some health problem . . ."
"Unfortunately not." The Marshal lit another cigarette, his raised hand shielding his mouth for a moment. "Heaven needs another toushin taishi. If you are willing to cooperate, then you could be in a position to use your . . . heritage, rather than have it use you."
Homura raised his brows. "You mean the fact that I'm itan? Call a spade a spade, Marshal."
"If you wish." A shrug. "It is a word. At certain times, it has been interpreted . . . with different degrees of precision. At the moment, it sets you outside society. However, the toushin taishi is outside society in any case. But what the toushin taishi has, that you do not have, Homura, is power."
The word hung in the air between them.
Homura had thought of freedom many times. He'd hoped for acceptance. He'd dreamed of love. He'd never before realised quite how powerful a temptation power could be, because he'd never considered it as a possibility. But . . . "Nataku is toushin taishi," he said, working to keep his voice calm, "and nobody could say that Nataku has any sort of control over his life."
"Ah." Marshal Tenpou smiled. "But I don't want a tool. I want an ally."
Homura frowned, then smiled, a bright unchancy smile, as understanding began to slowly shape itself in his mind. "You want a second toushin to destroy Litouten's power base as father and master of the current toushin. You want an itan for that." He raised his hands, and let the links of chain swing. "You want a lot of things, Marshal, for very little return."
The Marshal nodded, face mild. "Quite so. You will be a target for Litouten, and possibly for others. You might well die in the line of duty. It's been known."
"And what do I get for this?"
"Why don't you tell me?"
Power. "The chance to have a choice, for once," Homura said slowly. Power. "Allies. You, and others. Because you wouldn't try this on your own." Power. "A position which, if nothing else, would keep me occupied." Power.
"All of these," Marshal Tenpou said, "and something else, as proof of my sincerity."
Homura tilted a hand, waiting to see what sort of bribe the other thought could buy him.
"I have contacts in the bureaucracy." The Marshal's eyes were suddenly deadly flat, deadly level. "She has only just been sentenced to earth; she will not have been born yet, will only just have been conceived. But we can find your Rinrei."
Something in Homura's throat knotted. He shut his eyes, opened them again, looked at the other man. "How do you know her name?"
"Some people listen to rumours. Some people try to find out the truth behind them. A man's private life is his own business. It's a pity that -- what happened to the two of you happened."
"Some people still have what they have," he spat, angry enough to be careless.
"Heaven isn't fair," the Marshal said. "Get used to it. Or learn to use it."
"Are those the only choices we have?"
Marshal Tenpou removed the cigarette from his mouth, and exhaled a long breath of smoke. "Sad, isn't it? And this is Heaven. You almost wonder if Under Heaven would be better."
"So . . ." He considered. "May I ask a question?"
"Please do."
"What do you actually want out of this?"
The other man focused on the end of his cigarette. "I want . . . a lot of things, Homura. I don't expect to get all of them. What I need, for the moment, is you willing to be toushin taishi."
"That you can have."
"Good. Come along, then; we have a lot to do, and little time to do it in."
"Even in Heaven?"
"Especially in Heaven."
---
Fanfic Page