Author's Note: I'll be addressing some specific review questions at the end, if only to keep the notes above the fold short. ~_^ See how nice I am? And since FF.net is consistantly 6-12 hours behind in actually posting file updates, I'll be noting new additions in my deadjournal (user: spinshadow).
Other than that, I don't think I have any other pressing notes for this section. Just a general "please trust me" plea; it occurried to me after the last day that I'm used to writing for an audience that knows to trust my weirdness. But more on that in the end notes!
Warnings: Angst and Muraki being an assmonkey. Well, okay, so he's actually behaving this time. Someone call Guiness.... ¬_¬
Disclaimer: Yami no Matsuei is the property of Matsushita Yoko - I'm just borrowing a few things. The only things I claim are the original characters and the plot.
Language Note: hato = dove
IV. Ko Kaku Rou
Another grey morning, damp and dreary with the promise of rain. And far too early, considering it had been 2am when I was finally allowed to sleep. Just past 6am now. Why was I awake?
A low moan answered that question. I sat up, straining to see in the grey light of pre-dawn. Bouya was caught in the clutches of another nightmare, flailing against the clinging linens. I snapped up my dressing robe, hurrying across night-chilled floorboards to his bedside. The thin light from the open windows silvered his disheveled hair, making him appear even paler as his motions grew even more frantic.
"Bouya? Saa, wake up, Bon. It's only a dream. . . ."
His eyes suddenly flew open as I gently touched his shoulder, wild with terror. I wasn't sure he realized where he was, but he buried his head against my chest anyway.
"Shh, it's all right, bouya. It was only a dream," I repeated, gently holding him.
"No, it was real. . . ."
"A past memory?"
"Why? Why can't you see how evil he is?"
"Anou . . . it is my curse, I suppose. Try to go back to sleep. . . ."
He pulled away clumsily, as though he didn't really want me to leave, but didn't want to admit to it either. I rearranged his linens so they no longer entangled him, ruffling his hair with a gentle smile before retreating to the other futon.
I laid there for awhile, staring up at my ceiling and knowing that it was pointless. I was awake; there was nothing for it but to accept that fact and move foward. Still I laid there, dumbly fascinated by the play of shadow and light across the ceiling tiles. Wrapped in a strange reluctance to move, I instead watched the silver grey of predawn tint softly pink as the sun edged up over the horizon. A chorus of birds were greeting the new day from their perches in the trees around my home, a cheerful cacophony. Glancing at my clock, I sighed to myself. 7am. Past time for me to be up and about. Sonashi would not hold my breakfast forever, particularly since it being Saturday meant she would need to make the weekly trip into the city herself. We led a quiet life of simple routines at the Ko Kaku Rou, but bouya's arrival had rather disrupted all of that.
Bon bolted upright, this time without warning. As I sat up to watch him, he clutched his left wrist tightly, holding it close to his chest and panting. He scanned the room, near frantic in his search for something, then froze as he caught me watching him.
"Y-you . . . no. . . . No!"
"Bouya?"
"Why can't I go home?" he whimpered, collapsing in on himself. Not for the first time I wished I had some way of contacting the other shinigami. Something short of masterminding heinous murders; that would doubtlessly draw their attention, but not in the way I wanted. Nor in a way with which I was comfortable. Making rivals disappear was one thing, but killing innocents. . . . No, that had always been Muraki's area.
Muraki. What was that bastard planning? A part of me was quite certain I didn't really want to know. Whatever faults he possessed, Kazutaka was brilliant, with a gift for intricate planning; only he ever fully understood what he was doing and why.
"Why?! Why is he doing this to me!"
"Because you are a threat to him, bouya. If he kills you outright, Tsuzuki-san will never forgive him. So he found another way to take you out of the picture."
"By bringing me here? How can you be so calm??"
"Because anger accomplishes nothing," I replied, rising to walk over to my dressing table. I had kept his ofuda from him because I had not wanted to risk that they would still work and that he would use them against me. I could see now that I had acted quite selfishly. Retrieving the small stack of ofuda strips, I returned to his side, holding them out to him.
"Perhaps these will not work either, but. . . ."
"Doumo," he murmured, thumbing through them quickly before selecting one. Spell or prayer, whatever he was trying to do with the small slip of charmed paper, I could tell it hadn't worked when the light of hope went out of his eyes. He tried again, but there was a sad sort of resignation about him when it failed again. He tried a third time and this time the paper folded itself into a small bird, then came to life. He blinked in surprise as the creature perched on his hand, cooing up at him inquisitively before running her beak through her white tail feathers.
"It . . . it worked!"
"I am glad for you, bouya. Perhaps you are starting to recover your magic?"
"I . . . I don't know," he replied, studying the bird in surprise. As if he had never summoned one before.
"What now?"
"Oh . . . I suppose I should tell her what to do, ne?" he chuckled self-consciously. "Hato-chan, find Tsuzuki-san and bring him back here. Yoshi?"
The little bird chirped in what could only be an affirmative, fluttering her wings against his fingers for a moment before taking to the air. She circled his head once, cooed an avian reassurance, then flew out the window, a spot of white quickly lost against the light grey of the rising mists.
"How long do you think it will take?"
"I don't know. I suppose it depends on where he is. I'm really not sure how fast she can fly," he replied with an uneasy shrug. "It'll be all day at least, anyway . . . unless he's already here in Kyoto. . . ."
"Then a last day to enjoy the peaceful sanctuary I offer. . . ."
What had possessed me to say such a thing? He seemed surprised as well, looking up at me with curious eyes. I avoided his questioning gaze, retreating to my wardrobe and feigning absorption in choosing a kimono. It wasn't such an implausible thought, given the size of my wardrobe, but inasmuch as bouya was an empath. . . .
A soft scratching at the door forestalled the need for me to say anything, the screen sliding open to admit Seiya and our breakfast. I frowned as I watched the almost waif-ish girl shuffle across the room to the side table. I had worked all night and only seen her once, early; Kira, her roommate, had said she was already asleep when I made my final rounds. With raven hair nearly as long as my own and almost flawless porcelain skin, Seiya had blossomed under my care into a beautiful young woman. She had a measure of pride in her beauty that was rare in girls taken from the streets, always careful of her appearance now that she was able to attend herself properly. So it was unusual to see her hiding her face behind a curtain of shimmering black, to say nothing of the soft butter-rum and caramel kimono that would let her fade into the background of any room.
"Seiya?"
"Gomen, Owner, but Sonashi-okaasan couldn't wait any longer. She's gone downtown for the day," she said quietly, never once lifting her head. I tried to intercept her before she slipped out of the room, but bouya's arm suddenly barred my way. Surprised, I watched him walk over to her with wobbly steps while she sat frozen, like a rabbit hypnotized by a cobra. He paused a moment as he stood over her, as if gathering his strength, then brushed the fallen locks back over her shoulder. Seiya flinched away from his touch, turning her head aside in an effort to hide once more, but not before I saw the dark bruises that discolored her face.
"You were saying something about a safe workplace?" he murmured as he turned and settled at the side table, but despite his words, there was a deep sadness in his tone.
"Again? Seiya, what have I told you?"
"Onegai, sensei . . . it was my fault. I was stupid and clumsy and. . . ."
"And nothing. You are not paid to be abused."
She kept her head bowed, letting her hair cover her face again. Waiting for me to dismiss her. Well, she could wait awhile longer. I sorted through my makeshift pharmacopeia, peripherally aware that I was being watched. When I found the jar I wanted, I walked back over to where Seiya was still kneeling and sat down beside her. I could see her glancing at me through lowered lashes, worried. Sighing, I opened the jar, then brushed her fine hair out of the way once more. Seiya flinched again, but this time she didn't turn away. Bouya was watching me with covert curiosity and I wondered if his presence hadn't pricked at Seiya's pride.
"This will ease the swelling," I explained as I carefully dabbed the salve over her bruises. "And you have the day free. Who did Sonashi take with her?"
"Shinji and Nyassa," she replied quietly, wincing slightly even with my lightest touch.
"Aa. Tell Kira I'd like to see her later today. When she has some free time."
"Hai, Owner."
"And if those bruises aren't better by tonight, come to me."
"Hai, Owner," she repeated, bowing her head before slipping out of the room.
"What, do you keep a pharmacy in your room?" bouya asked incredulously as I cleaned up from my impromptu first aid session.
"It has proven useful," I said noncommittally, settling across the table from my guest.
"You are a very strange man, Mibu-san. . . ."
"So I've been told. . . ."
With Shinji gone for the day, my usual routine had been disrupted even further. If his summoned bird did it's job as bouya expected, this would be the last I would see of him, perhaps forever. But why should that matter? I should have been glad at the prospect of being rid of him, at no longer having to attend the needs of an injured brat who questioned everything and respected little. I should have been relieved at the knowledge that soon I would be able to return to my normal life, such as it was. Instead I could only think that it was unfortunate I had never had an opportunity to show him the true beauty of the sword. Unfortunate that bouya would not be able to finish his healing in the calm sanctuary of my home.
If this was not Kazutaka's doing, then surely I was losing my mind. . . .
Despite the fact that I had been bathing him since he arrived, bouya insisted he was strong enough to do it himself. Who was I to argue? He wanted his privacy and even insisted on walking down to the bathhouse under his own power.
I stood in my doorway, haori loosely draped about my shoulders as I watched his slow progress while feigning interest in the courtyard beyond the covered walk. The mist was slow to fade, wisps of moisture that ghosted around the sakura and maple, bejewelled a spider's web, cast an even greater distance between us and the restaurant above, and chilled the air to less comfortable temperatures. There would be more rain today, slow, ponderous showers that would discourage most from venturing beyond their doors. A good day for quiet companionship.
It was actually raining by the time bouya stepped out of the bathhouse, hurrying under the covered walk with shaking steps. His progress was no faster than it had been earlier and he was shivering by the time he reached me despite the lined kimono he wore. His hair was still damp and his teeth chattered.
"Stubborn child," I murmured, wrapping my haori around his shoulders before drawing him back into my room.
"Not a . . . child," he protested between shivers.
"Perhaps not, but stubborn regardless. What possessed you to come back with a wet head?"
He snorted, pulling away to sit at the side table, still shivering. That he was ignoring my question only made me more curious.
"You are a hopeless case," I murmured as I rang the call-bell. "Ask for a pot of tea. Do you play chess?"
"A little . . . and not very well. Tatsumi-san is teaching me. I . . . didn't have much chance to learn before. . . ."
"Ask for my chess set as well then," I said as I selected a lined kimono for myself. "And if there's anything else you need or want, ask for that as well. I'll be back shortly."
"Y-you're leaving?"
"I can't very well bathe in here, bouya," I replied, smiling. He flushed bright red as he became intensely interested in the remnants of our breakfast.
The rain was our near-constant companion, though it varied greatly in its intensity, fading to a vague misting at times before resuming a harsher fall. As the evening closed in around another game of chess, bouya became increasingly anxious, watching the door expectantly. The hour grew steadily later, dinner came and went, and still no sign of the other shinigami.
"Perhaps you underestimated how long it would take the bird to find your partner?"
"I . . . I guess so. Not like I've ever done this before," he grumbled, clearly irritated with the situation.
"I'm sure he'll come for you as soon as he can," I found myself saying, not sure where the words came from except a quiet need to reassure the boy.
"I guess," he sighed, turning his king on it's side. "It's been a long day. I . . . I think I'd like to get some sleep now."
"As you wish," I murmured as I rose to my feet, slipping my pipe into my sleeve. "If you need anything. . . ."
"Hai, hai, I know, Mibu-san."
"Sleep well, bouya. There is always tomorrow."
"Arigatou, Mibu-san."
He was waiting as I walked down the passageway towards my private garden, lurking in the shadows. I don't know how long he had been waiting for me, but I knew he was the last person I wanted to see that night. Not that I was under any illusion thinking my wishes ever figured into his plans. He did what he wanted when he wanted, with no thought to how his actions would impact me. Bastard.
"Get out of my house, Kazutaka."
"Is that any way to greet an old friend, Oriya? What do you think of my gift?"
"You're trying to distract me, aren't you?" I accused in a dark hiss. I wanted him gone.
"I thought you would appreciate him. Certainly, he is of more use to you than to me in his current state."
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"He really is better for you than I, old friend," Muraki said in a quiet avoidance, gazing up at the moon. I was actually surprised to see how much the sky had cleared, only a few strands of clouds obscuring the sky.
"He is a gift more expensive to maintain than his worth."
"Is he? Hmm, perhaps I made a slight error in judgement. Yes, yes, I see it now," he chuckled as he studied me. "My mistake, underestimating his expenses. Here, this should more than cover the trouble he's been."
"I don't want your money," I growled, letting the purse drop to the ground. "I want your absence. Now."
"And what will you do if I refuse? No sword with you tonight, Oriya. . . ."
"You think I can't make you leave without one?"
"No matter; I wasn't staying long anyway," he replied with a smug grin.
"Then go. And don't come back."
"Now surely you don't mean that. . . ."
"I've had it with your games, Muraki. I'm tired of picking up after you, only to be shoved aside for your latest pet project. This is the last time."
"You'll miss me when I'm gone," Muraki promised. "Enjoy your evening."
I snorted, watching him walk away into the night. But I knew he was right; I would miss him. As I had told bouya, it was my curse, to forever love a man I could never hope to possess. To long for him until I felt it would drive me mad. And then he would appear out of the night like some wraith, offering just enough hope to make me hurt all the more when he left again.
I stayed out in my garden for hours, staring out at the ghostly shapes touched with the silver light of the nearly full moon. The night was chilled, but I welcomed it, embracing the coldness, trying to make it a part of myself. I didn't want to feel anything. Not the worry for bouya, not the annoyance with Muraki, and especially not the longing for something I couldn't define.
"Oya, still out here, niisan?"
"Is there something you want, Cheisa?"
"To see you properly wed and settled, without that man in your life."
"Cheisa. . . ."
"He's destroying your spirit, one peice at a time, Oriya," she sighed, briefly resting one hand on my arm. "Do you think I don't know? I've known you for too many years now. . . ."
"It's not that easy," I sighed, still gazing out at my garden.
"Why not? Find a good girl, marry her, and be done with it."
"It's not that easy," I repeated in a quiet whisper. Cheisa had never understood what bound me to Muraki; I had no illusions that she would start now. I wanted only for her to leave me alone, to allow me to freeze my heart in peace.
"No one is asking you to love your wife," she sighed. "Keep the boy if he pleases you, but please, niisan . . . don't let it end this way. . . ."
"You don't know nearly as much as you think, Cheisa. . . ."
"Perhaps I know more than you think, niisan," she replied quietly, dark eyes suddenly sharp in the moonlight. Anger in those eyes as she glared at me a moment longer, then spun away. Her words like a trigger had sent fragmented images of bouya merrily skittering behind my eyes, reminding me how fragile he still was, how much he still needed to heal.
Damn you, Muraki.
End Notes
As promised, notes to specific reviewers. But first, a general thank you to everyone who's reviewed. Even a "wow, you rock" is helpful. ^_^
Mason-san: Ironic that I'd actually uploaded the third chapter some four hours prior to your review. Naughty FF.net for not updating the story sooner. So I wasn't ignoring your review, honest! Thank you for reminding me to add detail - I'm terrible about forgetting that in fanfiction, particularly when I'm writing in first person. Especially in a situation like this, where the speaker doesn't think about those sorts of details very often because he's lived there his whole life. ^_^; Also, if it sets your mind at ease at all, I am familiar with the three classic reactions to the sorts of things Hisoka's suffered (withdrawal, acceptance, and overcompensation, to summarize ~_^). If this ever gets to even a grapefruit level, well, that's more than I'm expecting right now. As I noted in the beginning of this, I've gotten used to writing for an audience who knows me and knows to trust that I'm not being capricious or careless with the characters. My bad, as they say.
* All right all you OxH fans, get your crying done now. Won't change anything; this still won't be a lemon or a lime. Hisoka's mind just doesn't work that way, not in my writings anyway. Maybe in a few years. . . . *
kireira: Because I don't want to make a false promise (the last time I promised to explain something in a later chapter, it never happened >_o), I'll go ahead and explain here. Hisoka's discomfort comes partially from being devalued and treated like a monster by his parents, partially from being treated like a living doll by Muraki, and maybe a little bit from his own struggles to feel like he's worth something. The notion of selling people just doesn't sit right with him.
Wolf: Was this soon enough? Hopefully this chapter showed that Hisoka hasn't really changed all that much. As for the other shinigami . . . there is indeed a reason for why they haven't come, but since this fic isn't set up to handle perspectives other than Oriya and Hisoka, it'll have to be explained in a companion fic. Not that I really needed any more, mind, but... *shrug* THAT fic will get posted, um, when I get it finished? Or as I finish chapters, I suppose.
Thanks again to all my readers. Until next time,
~ Selah