The Things of the Heart
Litouten remained sitting as the toushin was shown in. Rising would have shown an uncomfortable degree of weakness, and while he intended to make it clear that the boy's help was needed -- if not quite necessary -- he had to establish some sort of rapport first.
"Homura, toushin taishi," he greeted the boy. "Please. Be seated."
Homura dropped into the chair, cape billowing around his legs, and crossed one knee over the other, leaning back. How predictable; an attempt to demonstrate his insouciance and casual relations with the Great Minister. How different from Tenpou Gensui and his polite, Since when were you in a position to offer me a chair, Litouten?
What a pity for Tenpou Gensui that it was too late for him to reconsider his position.
Litouten considered Homura. Had the Emperor ever looked like this in his youth? Unlikely. The boy's mismatched eyes were an obvious mark of his heritage, and enough to make any right-thinking person nervous. He flattered himself that he wasn't showing any particular shock or disgust. The boy carried himself arrogantly, asking for some sort of challenge, but without the sort of control that the more senior military officers knew.
"I hope I haven't inconvenienced you by asking you to come here today," Litouten began. "There are a couple of matters that I would like to discuss with you."
Of course he'd taken pains to hush up the earlier events at morning court, but rumours would be spreading round Heaven already. Rumours about the morning's events -- damn that itan monkey and damn his keeper and damn the timing of the whole business, and damn that interfering scientist who wasn't here when he was most needed. At least the Marshal and his General -- or should that be the General and his Marshal, perhaps? -- weren't around to make matters worse.
Matters must be resolved quickly. Nataku was . . . unavailable. Litouten needed someone with the legally backed power to kill.
"I came as soon as I heard that you requested my presence," Homura replied politely. "I hope that I was not overly late in arriving."
"Wine?"
"No, thank you."
Litouten settled back and folded his hands. "I believe that one of my servants spoke with you a while ago, about the possibility of renegotiating certain of your political connections."
Homura smiled like a cat. "I have so many people speaking to me," he said smoothly. "But I am sure I would remember someone who actually said that he spoke on behalf of the Great Minister."
The boy clearly had some political sense. Good. A man with no political sense would already have walked out. A man with a lot of political sense would never have come in the first place. What Litouten needed at this point was a toushin who thought that he knew what was going on, and didn't realise how little he understood. "I am pleased to see that we understand each other," he temporised. "I'm also glad to see that you aren't so tainted -- forgive me, affected by the propaganda of certain factions in Heaven, that you feel endangered by coming to visit me."
Homura reacted as Litouten had expected -- as all these so-called warriors always react -- eyes widening, breath coming a shade sharper. "Danger is hardly a consideration."
"Well, of course not," Litouten replied smoothly. "Not to the toushin taishi. And certainly not to a toushin with experience, like yourself." The boy had to know he was being flattered, but he didn't seem averse to admiring recognition. "And likely to get more, considering the current situation on Earth."
"You think so?" The spark of interest, the hungry curl of the lips, all spoke of such primitive desires, such easily controlled urges. "Well, I'm sure you would know more about it than I would."
"More about it than even the army," Litouten agreed smugly. "Their information isn't always as good as could be desired. Of course, they have their own interests in the matter, which don't always coincide with Heaven's own needs."
"Which are?" Homura tilted a hand, urging Litouten to continue.
"The need to stamp out such problems at source, quickly and definitively." Litouten leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. The marble was cold through the silks of his robes. "Mere tolerance only breeds later troubles. Youkai are like humans. Sometimes Heaven's messages must be presented in a manner that cannot be disputed."
"And that," Homura murmured, "is the toushin taishi's job."
"Exactly." Litouten nodded slowly, deliberately. "It's a shame that the army doesn't always appreciate that. I suppose they feel that they need to show they're still necessary, that they can handle some of those threats themselves, but really -- it's all so pointless. Heaven should be united and working to a common goal, not factionalised and struggling."
"I see." Something in Homura's eyes said, Yes, I do see, I see very well, I see you sitting opposite from me and offering something to me -- but what are you offering?
"Mm." Litouten forced a smile. "I suppose I feel that Heaven's ends -- and our own -- would be best served by an obvious demonstration of our common intentions. And of course, while I would not wish you to lose any valuable connections, there are some links which you might have to . . . shall we say, consider less important than before?"
"You put an interesting argument," Homura said slowly. "By the way, may I offer my condolences on your son's current inconveniences?"
He does know. Litouten's stomach tightened, then relaxed. He knows, and he wants me to know that he knows, and he wouldn't do that unless he thought he could get something out of it. He's willing to make a deal. "You may," he said graciously. "We hope that the poor boy will recover soon."
"Yes." Homura's eyes glinted. Those mismatched itan eyes. Small wonder the Emperor had wanted the boy hidden away. "It must be difficult to see your own son in such a situation."
Litouten swallowed the insult down, tallying it mentally for later repayment. "I am sure it is something that you will understand when you have children of your own. But I fear that we wander from the subject."
Homura gestured loosely with one hand, the loop of chain dangling from the shackle at his wrist. "I apologise. Please continue."
"I suppose that my question might be, ultimately, what sort of reward the toushin might expect from Heaven in exchange for doing his duty. Even if certain old connections had to be cut . . . short, I have no doubt that he would find new ones. More rewarding ones. Which brings us to a relevant question." Litouten folded his hands together. "What do you actually want, toushin taishi?"
---
At that point it stopped being a joke, a daring moment of bravery, an easy assertion of virtue and honour. At that point it started to become real. Homura let his face stay as still as marble, trying to bite down the combination of laughter and fear which rose in him. This had been a game, when he would come to Litouten and listen to the other man's offers and turn him down and walk away. The Marshal and the General hadn't been around to tell him that it was a bad idea. And as for Konzen Douji -- well, nobody had heard where he was since that fiasco this morning (and what exactly had happened? Nobody had been willing to give him the full details, short of Nataku somehow injuring himself when being ordered to kill that little monkey child, and being unconscious ever since) and little surprise there. Really, when he thought about it, it only made sense for him to come and speak to Litouten. Someone had to find out what was going on.
But there was nothing which Litouten could offer him that he wanted. That made it simple enough. The Marshal and the General and Konzen Douji might not be friends, but they were allies. He'd paid little attention to the Marshal's comments on Litouten, and couldn't care less about any antagonism they might have for each other. What, after all, was Heaven but a struggle for power? Why be surprised when Litouten threw his own son into the gambling stakes? Why care about the matter? Heaven would continue, and the Emperor would squat on his throne like a silk-draped toad until the end of time.
He folded his arms across his chest, settling back in his chair. "I can't say that there is anything I particularly want," he answered blandly enough. "I am grateful for your generous thoughts -- "
"Oh, think again," Litouten replied. "Surely a young man like yourself, even if he is of the Emperor's household, looks for more in life than he currently has."
Homura couldn't prevent the momentary sneer which touched his face at the mention of the Emperor. "I am the least of that household," he replied, "and need to make my own way in the world. A toushin such as myself only wants to do his duty."
"And you have no personal interests?" Litouten shook his head slowly. "I must commend your devotion."
Didn't he? No. Power Homura had already, and would have more in time. Allies he had. Fear and respect he had. Other matters, more personal things -- well, in time he would find a way to get their attention, to make them notice. And then everything would be as he wanted it. He felt his mouth curl in a smile. "My interests are all in my duty, Great Minister."
"Even your friendships?"
Homura shrugged. It's alliance, it's not friendship, they never said it was friendship, so why not be honest with him and show him how little he has to work with? "A servant of Heaven has no friends. He may join forces with others, the better to serve, but that is a different thing." And why should there be anything else? Why should he want what others might have -- that ease, that comradeship, that comfort -- when respect was more sincere and more warming to the soul?
"Astonishing. So many people in Heaven want something. It is a pleasant surprise to meet a kami who simply wants to do his duty." Litouten's eyes were hooded and thoughtful.
Homura simply smiled in return. Yes, Nataku is unavailable. No, I will not be yours. I have power and I choose not to give it to you.
"Yet -- " Litouten broke off, as though considering his words. He leaned back in his chair. "A toushin might also consider what might happen if change were to come to Heaven, and if the Emperor himself were to be brought down. Who would he serve, then? If the Emperor is gone, then who rules Heaven, and what is the nature of the Heaven to whom he owes duty?"
Homura's breath caught in his throat. Impossible. Treason. Unthinkable. So, so thinkable. "You speak treason," he said, and barely recognised his own voice.
Litouten didn't stir. "I speculate about a future that may never come to pass. Down Below, they speak of the Mandate of Heaven being passed to a new ruler. Even here, the Emperor has not ruled forever, and will in time pass beyond. Such things can happen -- or do you never dream of the future?"
"I . . ." Homura fell silent. There were enormities which he had never dared to consciously envisage, and now they came pouring into his heart after Litouten's words, like dark lake water down a long-dry streambed. Do you never dream of vengeance? Have you forgotten those years, all the days of childhood, left to rot in a stone-floored cell where the torches bloomed like flowers on the wall and then died to leave you in darkness until the guards could be bothered to light them again? Have you forgotten what it was like to be a toy, a diversion, a shame, a disgrace, a worthless thing, and all of it because the Emperor declared you so? "This cannot be." He stilled his hands with an effort. "It is not possible."
"Toushin taishi," Litouten said softly, "anything is possible to the man who makes it so. I am Great Minister, and once I was something to be scorned and spat on. You are toushin, and throughout Heaven they fear your name. The future is what we make it. We can choose to serve Heaven as we see fit."
Even the Marshal had never spoken of Heaven as though it could be torn down and rebuilt. Even the General had never rebelled against Things As They Were.
"And, in this speculation -- where do we stand?" The words came so easily.
"We stand together," Litouten answered. "There would be many who would rebel against the new order of things. The toushin strikes down those who are a threat to Heaven. They would be such a threat. Even those who had supported the previous Emperor in all his cruelties and austerities -- even they, perhaps, might need to be swept away. Your words would be heard. Your opinions would have weight. Your sword would hold the balance between life and death, toushin taishi."
I cannot, Homura thought, and then, I can, and He will. "But what surety --"
"Why should I seek another toushin," Litouten interrupted, "when we two understand each other so well?"
It was like a gulf opening before him, and all he had to choose to do was to walk forward, to extend his hand, to say yes.
"It is true, what you said," Litouten continued. "There are no friendships. But there are alliances. We join forces, the better to serve Heaven, and the better to serve ourselves. This is the truth which others hide from you, that you cannot do both at once. But you can. We are the proof. Together . . ."
"Together," Homura said, each word paid out, "we could shake Heaven, Great Minister, and reorder it to our liking."
"Anh." Litouten smiled. "Now you understand, toushin taishi."
I could tell others that he speaks treason. But who would believe my unsupported word? Why should they think such a thing of the Great Minister? And yet it was true, all true; he could hear the hatred in the other man's voice, the bitterness, the long-held thirst for revenge. I know them. I have tasted them all in myself. I have hated for so long, but I have never dared to think of revenge, because I did not think it was possible. And now that someone offers it to me . . .
Litouten unlaced his fingers. "You must cut your links with the past, toushin, and build your future."
I am no longer a frightened child. I am a man. I can have power, if I choose to take it. If I choose . . .
"I am the toushin taishi," Homura answered. "I kill at the Great Minister's desire. What more is there to be said?"
---
Litouten remained sitting as the toushin was shown in. Rising would have shown an uncomfortable degree of weakness, and while he intended to make it clear that the boy's help was needed -- if not quite necessary -- he had to establish some sort of rapport first.
"Homura, toushin taishi," he greeted the boy. "Please. Be seated."
Homura dropped into the chair, cape billowing around his legs, and crossed one knee over the other, leaning back. How predictable; an attempt to demonstrate his insouciance and casual relations with the Great Minister. How different from Tenpou Gensui and his polite, Since when were you in a position to offer me a chair, Litouten?
What a pity for Tenpou Gensui that it was too late for him to reconsider his position.
Litouten considered Homura. Had the Emperor ever looked like this in his youth? Unlikely. The boy's mismatched eyes were an obvious mark of his heritage, and enough to make any right-thinking person nervous. He flattered himself that he wasn't showing any particular shock or disgust. The boy carried himself arrogantly, asking for some sort of challenge, but without the sort of control that the more senior military officers knew.
"I hope I haven't inconvenienced you by asking you to come here today," Litouten began. "There are a couple of matters that I would like to discuss with you."
Of course he'd taken pains to hush up the earlier events at morning court, but rumours would be spreading round Heaven already. Rumours about the morning's events -- damn that itan monkey and damn his keeper and damn the timing of the whole business, and damn that interfering scientist who wasn't here when he was most needed. At least the Marshal and his General -- or should that be the General and his Marshal, perhaps? -- weren't around to make matters worse.
Matters must be resolved quickly. Nataku was . . . unavailable. Litouten needed someone with the legally backed power to kill.
"I came as soon as I heard that you requested my presence," Homura replied politely. "I hope that I was not overly late in arriving."
"Wine?"
"No, thank you."
Litouten settled back and folded his hands. "I believe that one of my servants spoke with you a while ago, about the possibility of renegotiating certain of your political connections."
Homura smiled like a cat. "I have so many people speaking to me," he said smoothly. "But I am sure I would remember someone who actually said that he spoke on behalf of the Great Minister."
The boy clearly had some political sense. Good. A man with no political sense would already have walked out. A man with a lot of political sense would never have come in the first place. What Litouten needed at this point was a toushin who thought that he knew what was going on, and didn't realise how little he understood. "I am pleased to see that we understand each other," he temporised. "I'm also glad to see that you aren't so tainted -- forgive me, affected by the propaganda of certain factions in Heaven, that you feel endangered by coming to visit me."
Homura reacted as Litouten had expected -- as all these so-called warriors always react -- eyes widening, breath coming a shade sharper. "Danger is hardly a consideration."
"Well, of course not," Litouten replied smoothly. "Not to the toushin taishi. And certainly not to a toushin with experience, like yourself." The boy had to know he was being flattered, but he didn't seem averse to admiring recognition. "And likely to get more, considering the current situation on Earth."
"You think so?" The spark of interest, the hungry curl of the lips, all spoke of such primitive desires, such easily controlled urges. "Well, I'm sure you would know more about it than I would."
"More about it than even the army," Litouten agreed smugly. "Their information isn't always as good as could be desired. Of course, they have their own interests in the matter, which don't always coincide with Heaven's own needs."
"Which are?" Homura tilted a hand, urging Litouten to continue.
"The need to stamp out such problems at source, quickly and definitively." Litouten leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. The marble was cold through the silks of his robes. "Mere tolerance only breeds later troubles. Youkai are like humans. Sometimes Heaven's messages must be presented in a manner that cannot be disputed."
"And that," Homura murmured, "is the toushin taishi's job."
"Exactly." Litouten nodded slowly, deliberately. "It's a shame that the army doesn't always appreciate that. I suppose they feel that they need to show they're still necessary, that they can handle some of those threats themselves, but really -- it's all so pointless. Heaven should be united and working to a common goal, not factionalised and struggling."
"I see." Something in Homura's eyes said, Yes, I do see, I see very well, I see you sitting opposite from me and offering something to me -- but what are you offering?
"Mm." Litouten forced a smile. "I suppose I feel that Heaven's ends -- and our own -- would be best served by an obvious demonstration of our common intentions. And of course, while I would not wish you to lose any valuable connections, there are some links which you might have to . . . shall we say, consider less important than before?"
"You put an interesting argument," Homura said slowly. "By the way, may I offer my condolences on your son's current inconveniences?"
He does know. Litouten's stomach tightened, then relaxed. He knows, and he wants me to know that he knows, and he wouldn't do that unless he thought he could get something out of it. He's willing to make a deal. "You may," he said graciously. "We hope that the poor boy will recover soon."
"Yes." Homura's eyes glinted. Those mismatched itan eyes. Small wonder the Emperor had wanted the boy hidden away. "It must be difficult to see your own son in such a situation."
Litouten swallowed the insult down, tallying it mentally for later repayment. "I am sure it is something that you will understand when you have children of your own. But I fear that we wander from the subject."
Homura gestured loosely with one hand, the loop of chain dangling from the shackle at his wrist. "I apologise. Please continue."
"I suppose that my question might be, ultimately, what sort of reward the toushin might expect from Heaven in exchange for doing his duty. Even if certain old connections had to be cut . . . short, I have no doubt that he would find new ones. More rewarding ones. Which brings us to a relevant question." Litouten folded his hands together. "What do you actually want, toushin taishi?"
---
At that point it stopped being a joke, a daring moment of bravery, an easy assertion of virtue and honour. At that point it started to become real. Homura let his face stay as still as marble, trying to bite down the combination of laughter and fear which rose in him. This had been a game, when he would come to Litouten and listen to the other man's offers and turn him down and walk away. The Marshal and the General hadn't been around to tell him that it was a bad idea. And as for Konzen Douji -- well, nobody had heard where he was since that fiasco this morning (and what exactly had happened? Nobody had been willing to give him the full details, short of Nataku somehow injuring himself when being ordered to kill that little monkey child, and being unconscious ever since) and little surprise there. Really, when he thought about it, it only made sense for him to come and speak to Litouten. Someone had to find out what was going on.
But there was nothing which Litouten could offer him that he wanted. That made it simple enough. The Marshal and the General and Konzen Douji might not be friends, but they were allies. He'd paid little attention to the Marshal's comments on Litouten, and couldn't care less about any antagonism they might have for each other. What, after all, was Heaven but a struggle for power? Why be surprised when Litouten threw his own son into the gambling stakes? Why care about the matter? Heaven would continue, and the Emperor would squat on his throne like a silk-draped toad until the end of time.
He folded his arms across his chest, settling back in his chair. "I can't say that there is anything I particularly want," he answered blandly enough. "I am grateful for your generous thoughts -- "
"Oh, think again," Litouten replied. "Surely a young man like yourself, even if he is of the Emperor's household, looks for more in life than he currently has."
Homura couldn't prevent the momentary sneer which touched his face at the mention of the Emperor. "I am the least of that household," he replied, "and need to make my own way in the world. A toushin such as myself only wants to do his duty."
"And you have no personal interests?" Litouten shook his head slowly. "I must commend your devotion."
Didn't he? No. Power Homura had already, and would have more in time. Allies he had. Fear and respect he had. Other matters, more personal things -- well, in time he would find a way to get their attention, to make them notice. And then everything would be as he wanted it. He felt his mouth curl in a smile. "My interests are all in my duty, Great Minister."
"Even your friendships?"
Homura shrugged. It's alliance, it's not friendship, they never said it was friendship, so why not be honest with him and show him how little he has to work with? "A servant of Heaven has no friends. He may join forces with others, the better to serve, but that is a different thing." And why should there be anything else? Why should he want what others might have -- that ease, that comradeship, that comfort -- when respect was more sincere and more warming to the soul?
"Astonishing. So many people in Heaven want something. It is a pleasant surprise to meet a kami who simply wants to do his duty." Litouten's eyes were hooded and thoughtful.
Homura simply smiled in return. Yes, Nataku is unavailable. No, I will not be yours. I have power and I choose not to give it to you.
"Yet -- " Litouten broke off, as though considering his words. He leaned back in his chair. "A toushin might also consider what might happen if change were to come to Heaven, and if the Emperor himself were to be brought down. Who would he serve, then? If the Emperor is gone, then who rules Heaven, and what is the nature of the Heaven to whom he owes duty?"
Homura's breath caught in his throat. Impossible. Treason. Unthinkable. So, so thinkable. "You speak treason," he said, and barely recognised his own voice.
Litouten didn't stir. "I speculate about a future that may never come to pass. Down Below, they speak of the Mandate of Heaven being passed to a new ruler. Even here, the Emperor has not ruled forever, and will in time pass beyond. Such things can happen -- or do you never dream of the future?"
"I . . ." Homura fell silent. There were enormities which he had never dared to consciously envisage, and now they came pouring into his heart after Litouten's words, like dark lake water down a long-dry streambed. Do you never dream of vengeance? Have you forgotten those years, all the days of childhood, left to rot in a stone-floored cell where the torches bloomed like flowers on the wall and then died to leave you in darkness until the guards could be bothered to light them again? Have you forgotten what it was like to be a toy, a diversion, a shame, a disgrace, a worthless thing, and all of it because the Emperor declared you so? "This cannot be." He stilled his hands with an effort. "It is not possible."
"Toushin taishi," Litouten said softly, "anything is possible to the man who makes it so. I am Great Minister, and once I was something to be scorned and spat on. You are toushin, and throughout Heaven they fear your name. The future is what we make it. We can choose to serve Heaven as we see fit."
Even the Marshal had never spoken of Heaven as though it could be torn down and rebuilt. Even the General had never rebelled against Things As They Were.
"And, in this speculation -- where do we stand?" The words came so easily.
"We stand together," Litouten answered. "There would be many who would rebel against the new order of things. The toushin strikes down those who are a threat to Heaven. They would be such a threat. Even those who had supported the previous Emperor in all his cruelties and austerities -- even they, perhaps, might need to be swept away. Your words would be heard. Your opinions would have weight. Your sword would hold the balance between life and death, toushin taishi."
I cannot, Homura thought, and then, I can, and He will. "But what surety --"
"Why should I seek another toushin," Litouten interrupted, "when we two understand each other so well?"
It was like a gulf opening before him, and all he had to choose to do was to walk forward, to extend his hand, to say yes.
"It is true, what you said," Litouten continued. "There are no friendships. But there are alliances. We join forces, the better to serve Heaven, and the better to serve ourselves. This is the truth which others hide from you, that you cannot do both at once. But you can. We are the proof. Together . . ."
"Together," Homura said, each word paid out, "we could shake Heaven, Great Minister, and reorder it to our liking."
"Anh." Litouten smiled. "Now you understand, toushin taishi."
I could tell others that he speaks treason. But who would believe my unsupported word? Why should they think such a thing of the Great Minister? And yet it was true, all true; he could hear the hatred in the other man's voice, the bitterness, the long-held thirst for revenge. I know them. I have tasted them all in myself. I have hated for so long, but I have never dared to think of revenge, because I did not think it was possible. And now that someone offers it to me . . .
Litouten unlaced his fingers. "You must cut your links with the past, toushin, and build your future."
I am no longer a frightened child. I am a man. I can have power, if I choose to take it. If I choose . . .
"I am the toushin taishi," Homura answered. "I kill at the Great Minister's desire. What more is there to be said?"
---
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