Saturday
Eiri approached the room where his father and a guest were drinking tea. The Uesugi patriarch made a great show of introducing his eldest son to Miyamoto Ranmaru-san. Eiri appraised the man. He looked older than Eiri's father. He had sparse, faded grey hair on top of a round head, narrow black eyes, a lumpy aged nose, wide pale lips and a jowly jaw line. As Eiri had seen him in before, he wore a conservative grey business suit, white shirt and dull, understated tie. Eiri only nodded to acknowledge the introduction, being purposefully insulting. "The two of you seem awfully cozy," Eiri said. Kneeling, he gave a temporary impression of behaving.
"Eiri," his father cautioned. Doubtless, he knew better than to trust Eiri's 'good' behavior. In a more natural tone Eiri's father added, "Ranmaru-san stayed here while doing research for his last book on—"
"--traditional Kyoto architecture," Eiri finished. His father glared. Miyamoto's face turned red and blotchy. "So tell me, Miyamoto, what made you try your hand at pop music biography?" To anyone who knew him, those shining, intensely golden eyes were a vibrant warn-off.
Even the old monk knew the signs of a winter storm in his son. "Eiri, why don't you have some tea?" Eiri did not answer, but focused his burning, icy stare on Miyamoto.
Miyamoto was oblivious to his own danger. "I don't have to defend my work to you— a romance writer!" Miyamoto practically spit the words, like he would disavow a cheap, back-alley prostitute who had propositioned him. "And you! You would meddle in my legitimate writing career— for what! For that gay pink—"
"STOP," Eiri's father commanded with calm, quiet control.
Eiri found himself standing. He didn't remember moving. He must have taken a step forward, too. His blood was hot. A wash of sparks sped through his body, making his skin tingle as they left. Someone had hurt his Shuichi once and by god, he would not allow it to happen again. "Excuse me," he said blandly and he stepped out into the garden. The cool grass felt good on his bare feet. He pulled cigarettes and lighter out of his sleeve and made his way over to the carp pool.
His father could not see what kind of viper his guest was. The two old men probably shared enough common interests that the Uesugi patriarch could not be made to see reason. Eiri rubbed his head, tousling his hair. The damp wind helped clear his mind. Had Miyamoto meant to provoke him? Mizuki had warned him that the man was known for his bad temper. Eiri laughed at himself, silently. He'd nearly assaulted the ass after an almost-comment about his Shuichi. It certainly hadn't been the personal slights to himself; he could care less what the man thought of his writing. Is Miyamoto a danger or just a windbag? Eiri wondered.
Eiri had smoked most of one cigarette when his younger brother came and sat on a rock at the pool's edge. He was in full monk attire, smoking. "That guy's a total prick," Tatsuha said quietly. "I hate it when he's around." He blew smoke in a near-perfect imitation of Eiri. The prayer beads around his wrist clicked softly when he moved. "He puts father in an even more-traditional mind set. I think that guy is a little older, too." Tatsuha's voice turned sulky, "I figure he's the reason I'll be stuck in fucking Kyoto on my day off." He pouted darkly. "I was planning to spend the day with Ryu-kun, too."
Eiri tossed his cigarette onto the damp, sandy edge of the water. "I'm here. I think that lets you off the hook."
Tatsuha glanced up at him from the corner of his eyes. "Blackmail, eh? How does my being in—oh." He was quick to put the facts together. "Where is Shu?" He looked alarmed. "Tell me he's not spending time with my Ryuichi!!"
Eiri snorted. "He had to work today, and then he's having dinner with his parents. He'll be here tomorrow, probably early."
Tatsuha smoked some more, settling down. "That might be interesting," he commented quietly with dark warning tones in his voice.
"Hm?"
"Damn Ranmaru-san." Tatsuha put his cigarette out by stabbing it into the wet sand and he stood up. From the other discarded butts tucked in the sand near the rock, Tatsuha had done it before. He looked sideways at his brother again. "This isn't the usual sort of visit, is it?"
"Doubt it," Eiri said. He knew his eyes flashed angrily as he spoke, but he couldn't control it. "I blocked a Bad Luck biography that sanctimonious asshole was writing."
Tatsuha raised an eyebrow in surprise. Sometimes, Eiri felt like he was looking into a negative image mirror when he looked at his younger brother. His coloring was all pale gold where Tatsuha's was black. Other than that, the two of them could pass for twins, right down to their voices. "Would Shuichi being here be better or worse?" Tatsuha mused, aloud.
Eiri asked himself the same question, making it seem a as if he was voicing his own thoughts and speaking to his own reflection. "I don't think he'd stay home if I asked. Bad Luck goes on tour in about a week."
"Yeah," Tatsuha sighed. "I know. Ryu's going along for the first two weeks of it."
Eiri frowned and dug into his sleeve for another cigarette. Shu had neglected to mention that fact. Or had he? He had gone on at length about the duet they had recorded this week. Maybe this was related? A soft, low growl slipped out of him as he lit his cigarette.
"Yeah," Tatsuha agreed. "I know."
Eiri blew out smoke and put his lighter away. He hated being jealous of Ryuichi. Not only was the man was twice Tatsuha's age, he was a complete and utter hare-brained idiot. Tatsuha and Ryuichi seemed devoted to each other— not that there was any question of devotion on Tatsuha's part! No, the question was where Ryuichi's interests lay. Reluctantly, Eiri granted that the man was a powerful singer, but that was about his only selling-point, in Eiri's estimation. It annoyed him to no end that both his brother and his lover were enamored of that child-in-a-man's-body. Eiri trusted Shuichi, but being with the young singer had left Eiri vulnerable to so many things: socialization, black mail, protective urges . . . and emotions. Like jealousy. Damnit.
When Shu arrived, would he stay away from Miyamoto? Would he want to? It was quirky the way Shuichi would either confront adversity head-on, no-holds-bared, or curl up and hide for a week. Usually he only hid when the problem involved very deep emotions that confused him. Eiri decided that Shu was more likely to rush toward confrontation in this situation. He smirked. Eiri's father had been confronted by Shuichi before. The bratt had won that day, succeeding in permanently breaking off Eiri's arranged marriage to Usami Ayaka, but Eiri wondered who would come out the winner next time.
Tatsuha said thoughtfully, "You know, Shuichi almost gave Father a heart attack when he—"He was bringing up the same incident Eiri was recalling but Eiri cut him short.
"Maybe this time the old man will follow through and die," he said coldly.
"Maybe he could get rid of Miyamoto," Tatsuha corrected, watching Eiri slyly.
"Hmph." Maybe an encounter would only give Miyamoto ammunition for his poisonous pen. "We'll see," Eiri said darkly.
Tatsuha laughed and Eiri looked at him. Mischievousness danced in his brother's eyes. "I don't want to miss it," he said.
Eiri narrowed his eyes at his brother. "Yeah, Mika came to watch, too, but I thought you had a date," he said pointedly.
Tatsuha chuckled wickedly. Eiri wondered if he had learned that from their sister. "You think I'd leave Ryu-chan all by himself in Tokyo? Tohma's out of town, and here we all are. . . " He gestured to their surroundings, his kimono sleeve flapping in a light breeze. Tatsuha smirked and put his arm across Eiri's shoulders. "I'll just give him a call and he can come with Shuichi!"
Eiri had to admit to a certain . . . prurient fascination with having both obnoxious singers visit the temple together. Not only would it upset Father, Eiri thought, smiling, but if my guess is correct, it will infuriate Miyamoto . . . maybe enough to make him leave. The Uesugi brothers laughed together conspiratorially until Mika came to investigate.
Dinner that night was formal. A chill rain had chased the brothers inside for the afternoon. Eiri had managed to hide with, er, sink himself into a book during that time, but he was informed that he must attend dinner. Mika usually got away with non-traditional clothes, but the required formality even extended to her tonight. Eiri hadn't known she owned a tomesode with the Seguchi crests. He didn't think he'd seen her wear a kimono since she wore a shiromuku 1 for her wedding.
Their father was really making a point of honoring his guest. His children, on the other hand— particularly his sons, did their best to end, stifle, or thwart all attempts at conversation in order to maintain a very cold silence. Tatsuha is really good at this game, Eiri realized. The younger monk's experience in conducting funeral rites gave him plenty of horrid stories to turn conversation toward. The amount of grim, depressing detail he could extricate from a scene was . . . impressive. Morbid, too. Not to be out-done, Eiri simply invented tragedies he could relate to otherwise happy topics. Mika was exasperated with her brothers. Their father glared at them, balefully. He hated it when the two of them showed a united front against him. Tatsuha and Eiri were the only ones who ate with any appetite. The others picked at the perfectly prepared food. Eventually they gave up trying to speak. Both brothers were gleefully anticipating a much more cheerful and entertaining breakfast tomorrow. Mika knew something was up.
After dinner, the table trays were cleared and a staring contest began. The stoic Uesugi patriarch finally started reprimanding his sons in front of his guest. Miyamoto watched the whole thing like a ball game he had bet money on. It was only a replay of the same old arguments; 'Eiri, shave your head or die your hair black', 'Lose the earring', 'Move back home.' Eiri was pretty sure the old man had given up on the 'get married' argument. He wasn't sure about the 'as eldest son, you must be prepared to take over the temple' bit. His father didn't bring up either topic, this time around. To both of them, the old man said, 'Give up smoking!' It was a signal for both men to light up. The old man was a hypocrite on that score, since he smoked, too.
To Tatsuha, their father started a relatively new rant, 'you should be thinking about marriage prospects.' He also brought up Tatsuha's grades and the possibility of going to University. The whole family could practically recite the script. They had the arguments and the come-backs nearly memorized. Ironically, the routine cleared the tense air and left everyone feeling mildly annoyed.
With smoke hanging in the air and the chill rain still coming down, Mika lit lanterns in the room and fetched the koto 2 from storage. She must be desperate to change the ambient mood and temperature in here, Eiri thought. Mika didn't play the instrument very often and probably hadn't practiced in years. She could only play a few traditional pieces well, but it always pleased their father when she did play. Eiri guessed she reminded Father of their mother. Her impromptu concert let them all off the hook until morning.
After the patriarch turned in for the night, Eiri went to his room, too. He didn't think he'd be able to sleep, so he read a little more. He never went to sleep this early at home, but to his surprise, he found himself yawning. He turned out the light and tucked himself into bed, a little sad that the sheets were cold and there was no one here to warm them. Until morning, he reminded himself. A smile crept across his face in the dark and Eiri covered it with a blanket.
1 Essentially a traditional bridal costume; shiro white, thus, an all white kimono ensemble. The tomesode was explained in the last chapter's footnote.
2 It's a traditional Japanese musical instrument; a thirteen-stringed zither, about 2 meters long and made of Paulownia wood. It is plucked using picks on the thumb and first two fingers of the right hand, while the left hand can be used to modify pitch and tone.
Author's Note: I loved writing this one. It's my favorite chapter so far. It just makes me think about what kind of hellions the Uesugi children were as a trio! If all three decided to make a concerted effort for or against something... look out! BTW— Did anyone get the Moliere title-reference?
