Perception
The room was opulent. Presumably Litouten's rank demanded such a thing. Shien perceived it, and decided, abstractly, that it was probably not worth the seeing. He had been kept waiting for over half an hour now; Litouten clearly had matters of high import to attend to, and at the same time Litouten had Nataku under close guard, and would not permit anybody to see him without a personal exemption. Thus Shien must wait here, hands folded, eyes closed, with nothing to do except ponder the bad taste of the decoration, the failings of Heaven, and the Toushin Taishi's current health, or lack of it, and the rumours of a new Toushin Taishi.
Ah. A servant.
"You may see the Toushin Taishi now," the servant informed him, eyes lowered nervously. "The Great Minister requests that the visit be kept short, as the Toushin Taishi is still recovering."
Shien inclined his head in a polite nod, and let the servant lead him through the door and down a passage with the same opulent decoration. It was done to the prescribed forms, of course, and thus there could be no argument in Heaven against it.
Another door. The servant opened it, and bowed himself backwards and away, letting Shien enter. Nataku was on the bed inside, a small figure in that great expanse of pale silk sheets and embroidered coverlet, head propped dead centre of his pillow, dark hair smoothly tied back -- as ever -- to leave the face naked. His eyes were closed, his breathing regular. A man in stained travelling robes was sitting on the side of the bed,turned away from Shien, his head tilted as he checked the child's pulse.
The child . . . no, say rather Nataku, say Toushin Taishi. It was inappropriate to think of Nataku as a child. Only an adult could consciously choose to devote himself to the good of Heaven. A child was by definition someone too young for responsibility, too young to understand honour or proper behaviour, and too young to be asked to risk his life. Therefore, Nataku was an adult, and Nataku was toushin, and there was nothing further to be discussed in the matter.
And, as such, as adult and as commander, Nataku was owed the respect and concern due a commander who had been injured in battle. The thoughts fell into line, as precise as a perfect line of motion, as exact as the blade of a sword. A child would have deserved protection, but Nataku was not a child. A commander deserved respect and consideration, and just as Heaven's ministers should be given proper obedience, so also a commander was owed the tokens of duty.
"Mnh." The man put down Nataku's wrist, picked up a scroll that was on the bed next to him, and made a tiny annotation on it. "Oh." He half turned to regard Shien, then rose politely from where he was sitting, scroll and pen still in his hands. Glasses covered his eyes, their lenses opaque in the dim light. His short hair was disarrayed roughly around his head. "Terribly sorry, not expecting any visitors -- you're here to see . . .?"
"The Toushin Taishi," Shien said briefly. "You are his physician?" Reassuring to see that Litouten was having Nataku attended, though the quality of this person -- then again, Tenpou Gensui himself was casual in dress but effective in action, and maybe this specimen was another of the same kind.
"Anh, yes. Been with him since birth -- not that was so long ago, but then, he's a very early developer, wouldn't you say -- any questions?"
Shien walked across to look down at Nataku, ignoring the doctor's babbling for a moment. One arm lay outside the covers, sleeve still disarranged from where the doctor had been taking the toushin's pulse. A thin line of tiny stitches held the long cut up the side of the arm closed. It could have been a model of metal and ivory, a display piece -- except, of course, that no artist in Heaven would ever create its like.
"He will recover?"
"Oh, of course." The doctor rolled up the scroll again and set it on the bedside table. "Of course, further wounds like that -- further use of that sort -- well, I really wouldn't like to say now. But you're the commander of that detachment of the army, mm? You'd know more than I . . ."
Shien turned to regard the man. "I'd know what?"
"Well, if any further activity of that sort was likely to be necessary. Such a good thing you're there to guard his back, mm?" The eyes behind the spectacles were momentarily visible, dark brown, intelligent, aware. Then the light shifted again to make the glasses opaque, and the eyes were hidden again as surely as Shien's own. "Youkai activity, most appalling, tch tch. Very noble of the Great Minister to put his own son forward as . . ." He trailed off. His mouth was smiling. "I'm sure we all wish that the rest of Heaven would be so self-sacrificing, mm?"
The man seemed to be inviting some sort of complicity. It twitched at Shien's nerves, at his habitual fastidiousness. He found it unpleasant. "How long until the toushin recovers?" he asked formally, tone cool and dry.
"Not long at all, Shien-sama." He shrugged. "All ready to go out there again. Of course, not quite the same -- but you know how it is with damage."
Shien spared a moment to wonder how it was that the man knew his name, then set the thought aside as unprofitable. There were people whose business it was to know who was where and why they were there and what they did. No doubt Litouten had many in his service.
He thought about scars. You know how it is with damage. Something like anger knotted in his stomach, and he forced it down and bound it as he always did, restrained it, made something else of it. He did not open his eyes.
The doctor bent over, took the wrist between his fingers. Nataku's hand dangled limply, like a doll's. "Should be able to take quite a bit yet, of course. Resilient. Tough. A little killing pupp--" He broke off, as though he could feel Shien's gaze like a physical thing, even though Shien's eyes were still closed, even though Shien had made no sound. "Good thing that there's a new Toushin, isn't it, Shien-sama? Very convenient." His smile made something obscene of the word.
"We each serve as we are directed and as is our duty," Shien said flatly. He watched the doctor's fingers on Nataku's wrist. The toushin's veins were blue against his white skin. "What are you doing?"
"Taking pulses -- that is, a pulse, several pulses, do you know how hard it is to keep track of things up here? So much going on in one tiny little body." Again that smile, comprehending, suggesting an understanding which Shien denied. "Really it's for the best, give him a chance to be useful -- itan children, so awkward, though of course the family makes a difference, doesn't it?"
"Your speculation is offensive." Anger wove itself again, was once again put down. It was offensive in itself that his commander should be so fragile, as fragile as a child, so tiny a being, so -- defenseless. So much at the mercy of Litouten the Great Minister, and one obeys authority, so much at the mercy of his orders, the orders to stand back and be silent and let him fight alone, so very alone.
"Anh. Well -- there's a new one now. Emperor's own family, and wouldn't we all be curious about that? No, no, of course you wouldn't." He laid Nataku's wrist back on the bed again. White flesh against silk almost as pale. "Wonder if I'll be called in for him as well. Good thing you're there to back him up, mm? Not as if we'll need a broken one, not with a new one to take his place."
Shien turned, and walked to the door. Enduring this foolish babble was a deliberate temptation towards a lack of control. He let the words fall away like dust.
"Anh. A very good thing." The doctor's back was turned to him, but Shien was suddenly sure that the other perceived him, just as Shien himself perceived in response. "You'll be looking after Homura-sama, mm?"
"He is not my responsibility," Shien answered, hand on the door. His words were light and cold, and should have cut off the conversation at its root.
"Ah. Well -- responsibilities, mm? Poor little itan children. Nobody's responsibility. Nobody ever really takes care of things. Mm?"
Shien closed the door behind him, precise and neat as a movement in battle, and walked down the corridor in the silence and light of Heaven. He set the doctor's words behind him, things of no importance. Litouten's minions were apparently as -- no, the Great Minister should not be criticised, not overtly, not in word, not in deed, and thought itself must be stifled down and bridled away before it could give birth to any action.
The order of Heaven was a bulwark against chaos and corruption. He walked through Litouten's stifling mansion and the walls seethed with opulence and wealth and decay. The order of his own mind was clarity and understanding and acceptance and control. The child lies in the bed and the doctor holds his wrist and smiles. It was his duty as a commander to command his soldiers well and to protect his superior officers. Such a good thing you're there to guard his back, mm?
Orders were orders. Duty lay in obeying his orders. Virtue lay in adherence to duty.
Shien walked through the streets of Heaven, and his eyes were closed against what lay around him.
---
The room was opulent. Presumably Litouten's rank demanded such a thing. Shien perceived it, and decided, abstractly, that it was probably not worth the seeing. He had been kept waiting for over half an hour now; Litouten clearly had matters of high import to attend to, and at the same time Litouten had Nataku under close guard, and would not permit anybody to see him without a personal exemption. Thus Shien must wait here, hands folded, eyes closed, with nothing to do except ponder the bad taste of the decoration, the failings of Heaven, and the Toushin Taishi's current health, or lack of it, and the rumours of a new Toushin Taishi.
Ah. A servant.
"You may see the Toushin Taishi now," the servant informed him, eyes lowered nervously. "The Great Minister requests that the visit be kept short, as the Toushin Taishi is still recovering."
Shien inclined his head in a polite nod, and let the servant lead him through the door and down a passage with the same opulent decoration. It was done to the prescribed forms, of course, and thus there could be no argument in Heaven against it.
Another door. The servant opened it, and bowed himself backwards and away, letting Shien enter. Nataku was on the bed inside, a small figure in that great expanse of pale silk sheets and embroidered coverlet, head propped dead centre of his pillow, dark hair smoothly tied back -- as ever -- to leave the face naked. His eyes were closed, his breathing regular. A man in stained travelling robes was sitting on the side of the bed,turned away from Shien, his head tilted as he checked the child's pulse.
The child . . . no, say rather Nataku, say Toushin Taishi. It was inappropriate to think of Nataku as a child. Only an adult could consciously choose to devote himself to the good of Heaven. A child was by definition someone too young for responsibility, too young to understand honour or proper behaviour, and too young to be asked to risk his life. Therefore, Nataku was an adult, and Nataku was toushin, and there was nothing further to be discussed in the matter.
And, as such, as adult and as commander, Nataku was owed the respect and concern due a commander who had been injured in battle. The thoughts fell into line, as precise as a perfect line of motion, as exact as the blade of a sword. A child would have deserved protection, but Nataku was not a child. A commander deserved respect and consideration, and just as Heaven's ministers should be given proper obedience, so also a commander was owed the tokens of duty.
"Mnh." The man put down Nataku's wrist, picked up a scroll that was on the bed next to him, and made a tiny annotation on it. "Oh." He half turned to regard Shien, then rose politely from where he was sitting, scroll and pen still in his hands. Glasses covered his eyes, their lenses opaque in the dim light. His short hair was disarrayed roughly around his head. "Terribly sorry, not expecting any visitors -- you're here to see . . .?"
"The Toushin Taishi," Shien said briefly. "You are his physician?" Reassuring to see that Litouten was having Nataku attended, though the quality of this person -- then again, Tenpou Gensui himself was casual in dress but effective in action, and maybe this specimen was another of the same kind.
"Anh, yes. Been with him since birth -- not that was so long ago, but then, he's a very early developer, wouldn't you say -- any questions?"
Shien walked across to look down at Nataku, ignoring the doctor's babbling for a moment. One arm lay outside the covers, sleeve still disarranged from where the doctor had been taking the toushin's pulse. A thin line of tiny stitches held the long cut up the side of the arm closed. It could have been a model of metal and ivory, a display piece -- except, of course, that no artist in Heaven would ever create its like.
"He will recover?"
"Oh, of course." The doctor rolled up the scroll again and set it on the bedside table. "Of course, further wounds like that -- further use of that sort -- well, I really wouldn't like to say now. But you're the commander of that detachment of the army, mm? You'd know more than I . . ."
Shien turned to regard the man. "I'd know what?"
"Well, if any further activity of that sort was likely to be necessary. Such a good thing you're there to guard his back, mm?" The eyes behind the spectacles were momentarily visible, dark brown, intelligent, aware. Then the light shifted again to make the glasses opaque, and the eyes were hidden again as surely as Shien's own. "Youkai activity, most appalling, tch tch. Very noble of the Great Minister to put his own son forward as . . ." He trailed off. His mouth was smiling. "I'm sure we all wish that the rest of Heaven would be so self-sacrificing, mm?"
The man seemed to be inviting some sort of complicity. It twitched at Shien's nerves, at his habitual fastidiousness. He found it unpleasant. "How long until the toushin recovers?" he asked formally, tone cool and dry.
"Not long at all, Shien-sama." He shrugged. "All ready to go out there again. Of course, not quite the same -- but you know how it is with damage."
Shien spared a moment to wonder how it was that the man knew his name, then set the thought aside as unprofitable. There were people whose business it was to know who was where and why they were there and what they did. No doubt Litouten had many in his service.
He thought about scars. You know how it is with damage. Something like anger knotted in his stomach, and he forced it down and bound it as he always did, restrained it, made something else of it. He did not open his eyes.
The doctor bent over, took the wrist between his fingers. Nataku's hand dangled limply, like a doll's. "Should be able to take quite a bit yet, of course. Resilient. Tough. A little killing pupp--" He broke off, as though he could feel Shien's gaze like a physical thing, even though Shien's eyes were still closed, even though Shien had made no sound. "Good thing that there's a new Toushin, isn't it, Shien-sama? Very convenient." His smile made something obscene of the word.
"We each serve as we are directed and as is our duty," Shien said flatly. He watched the doctor's fingers on Nataku's wrist. The toushin's veins were blue against his white skin. "What are you doing?"
"Taking pulses -- that is, a pulse, several pulses, do you know how hard it is to keep track of things up here? So much going on in one tiny little body." Again that smile, comprehending, suggesting an understanding which Shien denied. "Really it's for the best, give him a chance to be useful -- itan children, so awkward, though of course the family makes a difference, doesn't it?"
"Your speculation is offensive." Anger wove itself again, was once again put down. It was offensive in itself that his commander should be so fragile, as fragile as a child, so tiny a being, so -- defenseless. So much at the mercy of Litouten the Great Minister, and one obeys authority, so much at the mercy of his orders, the orders to stand back and be silent and let him fight alone, so very alone.
"Anh. Well -- there's a new one now. Emperor's own family, and wouldn't we all be curious about that? No, no, of course you wouldn't." He laid Nataku's wrist back on the bed again. White flesh against silk almost as pale. "Wonder if I'll be called in for him as well. Good thing you're there to back him up, mm? Not as if we'll need a broken one, not with a new one to take his place."
Shien turned, and walked to the door. Enduring this foolish babble was a deliberate temptation towards a lack of control. He let the words fall away like dust.
"Anh. A very good thing." The doctor's back was turned to him, but Shien was suddenly sure that the other perceived him, just as Shien himself perceived in response. "You'll be looking after Homura-sama, mm?"
"He is not my responsibility," Shien answered, hand on the door. His words were light and cold, and should have cut off the conversation at its root.
"Ah. Well -- responsibilities, mm? Poor little itan children. Nobody's responsibility. Nobody ever really takes care of things. Mm?"
Shien closed the door behind him, precise and neat as a movement in battle, and walked down the corridor in the silence and light of Heaven. He set the doctor's words behind him, things of no importance. Litouten's minions were apparently as -- no, the Great Minister should not be criticised, not overtly, not in word, not in deed, and thought itself must be stifled down and bridled away before it could give birth to any action.
The order of Heaven was a bulwark against chaos and corruption. He walked through Litouten's stifling mansion and the walls seethed with opulence and wealth and decay. The order of his own mind was clarity and understanding and acceptance and control. The child lies in the bed and the doctor holds his wrist and smiles. It was his duty as a commander to command his soldiers well and to protect his superior officers. Such a good thing you're there to guard his back, mm?
Orders were orders. Duty lay in obeying his orders. Virtue lay in adherence to duty.
Shien walked through the streets of Heaven, and his eyes were closed against what lay around him.
---
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