Disclaimer: I own my OCs but not FY and its characters. *sigh* I would
really like to stop writing these damn things, but I kinda think they're
funny. ^_^
Chapter 22 The Past and What Is To Come
Now that the time to reveal my true past has finally come, I am unsure of myself and my ability to speak the words that need to be spoken. I feel numb. The warm desire deep in my abdomen has been replaced with a thick churning of bile. I swallow hard again and again, afraid that I will vomit from nervousness.
I realize that I have only one chance to make things right between Tasuki and myself. In only a few hours' time, he will be bound for Hokkan. And he may never return. I must force myself to speak, to tell my all. If not for the relief my own burdened heart, than for my fierce love for Tasuki.
I look down at him and his untamed beauty. I sigh to myself, my breath tinted with both sadness and amusement. What has this man done to me? How has he done this to me? Why him? Why not the dozens of other men whom I thought were beautiful? His soul, of course. Fool, I think to myself, how many times must you tell yourself? His soul is like no other's. It's purity and love has seeped from his skin and saturated my own. He has sunk into my bones, never to dislodge. And I never wish him to.
I continue looking down at his fiery hair, knowing that he will eventually look up at me. Either he will meet my gaze when I utter the first word, or after I have sighed the last. Before or after my heart drains its sorrow, our eyes will meet. I breathe in deeply, impatiently awaiting that moment.
"I was born at the foot of Mount Reikaku." So it begins. After so many years of having to keep my grief to myself, my story is to finally be unraveled. How strange the words sound on my lips-- like another woman's, and not mine at all. And the taste that lingers behind. Bittersweet. Stale. A hint of spice. So strange. Perhaps these are another woman's memories. Perhaps she is the past me, the one who lived this simple life and then the one whose simple life was ripped away. Perhaps this is why my words sound and taste so unnatural in my mouth. Maybe she will be buried when I am through.
At the sound of my words, his eyes shoot through his heavy bangs to meet mine. I smile at him. Just as I had expected--he is surprised. I'm sure he never expected me to say that my birthplace is his home as well. I wonder if he will say something. A question, maybe only a cry of shock. But I don't give him time to speak. I must do the speaking. And I cannot stop now that I have begun. Only when this weight is lifted from my body and soul can I return to silence, to recover and rest after my life of laboring and exhaustion. My smile widens at the thought. I look forward to the tranquil rest that I have earned.
"I lived in a little city in the valley. My mother was a tailoress and had her own buisness, and my father owned a tavern near our house. We weren't wealthy people, but our life was very comfortable compaired to others. We lived well until my father's tavern burned down and he was left without work. We had to depend soley upon mother's tailoring work for nearly three years. Then she became pregnant with my youngest brother...and died giving birth to him..."
I try not to pause here, but I can't help it. I try to block my consciousness from the visions bombarding me. But they come like a flood, like a storm, and they linger. The vision of my mother slowly dying has appeared in my mind and it refuses to leave me. Her mouth open wide as the blood pours from between her legs like a fountain. I remember just standing there and watching as the midwife tried to pull the baby out by force so she could stop my mother's bleeding. My mother's screams of pain- and sheer terror. My brother finally came, and I watched on in horror as my mother's eyelids closed the very minute she touched him. I remember watching the old midwife wipe the blood from my brother and his weight in my arms when she gave him to me to hold, sending me out of the room so that she could bathe my mother's corpse and prepare her for burial. I remember her telling me that it was the least she could do for us. The smell of my mother's blood on the midwife's hands, on my brother's smooth skin, fascinated me and saddened me at the same time. And my brother. His squinting, ocean-colored eyes. His toothless, gaping mouth. His silken hair. His beauty. My dead mother's son, and my brother.
"Tansho..." I hear Tasuki whisper, squeezing my ankle gently to re- awaken me. I guess that the memory is obvious on my face. Wetness trickles down the curves of my cheeks, and I don't bother to brush the tears away. They help me heal; I would be a fool to try to stop them. I keep my eyes situated on the wall, not daring to look my lover in the eyes just yet.
"We had no way to support ourselves for nearly a year. My father tried to find work, but couldn't. He asked a wealthy friend from the capital for a loan to keep us on our feet for a while as he looked for work in neighboring towns and villages. It didn't take long for my father's so- called-friend to come banging on our door, demanding my father to pay his debt. He said he'd kill us all if he didn't pay, but Father had no money..."
I stop again. There is a lump in my throat the size of my fist. The water keeps leaking silently from my eyes. My stomach churns. My mouth goes dry. But I have to keep talking. I must. I must.
"He didn't have any money, so my Father gave me to Shingen as payment for the debt. He had to.everyday Shingen would come by our house and threaten to kill us if he didn't get his money. My Father had to.to protect my brothers and my sister. And I was the oldest.so."
I know the rest. He knows the rest. But I understand that it still must be said-just as everything else was sais.
"And so Shingen brought me here, to the capital, to the Black Dove, where I have been for the past five years," I reply with surprising ease, "And that is how I came to be who I am."
The hollowness of my body has returned, but this is not a painful emptiness--it is a breathtaking release. I heave a sigh and flutter my eyelids, feeling the tears begging to dry. It has been told. It has been heard. I look down at him, and I wait.
His eyes are locked on my face, and I try to pry into his mind to see what he is thinking. Does he pity me? I know that he cannot be angry, he said he had forgiven me for the lies I told him. But does he pity me and my sorrowful past? Or is it shock? Disbelief? I try to read his eyes but I can't see anything but their dark green and golden shimmering. They are hiding everything from me. I want to press my forehead to his, to connect with his mind somehow, just to see the inside of him. Oh gods, tell me what he is thinking, I plead. Oh please let him speak to me. I cannot stand the silence and the overwhelming power of his staring eyes. Their intensity is enveloping me. Does he not realize the power he has over me?
"Please say something," I whisper huskily, pleading with him. His fingers release my foot and he moves the muddy-watered basin away from him. I watch as he gets to his knees and kneels in front of me. He gently pushes my thighs together until my knees touch, then lays his head in the naked hollow of my lap, his hands resting on my hips. He caresses my skin through the fabric of his soft cotton shirt that he loaned to me, awakening me instantly with his serene and luxurious touch. Confused by his strange yet gentle actions, I lean over him and press my cheek to the cool smoothness of his shiny red hair. The fingers of my right hand slowly comb through his hair while my other hand rests on his back. He hugs my lap when I touch him, and I hug him in return.
"Tell me what to say, Tansho," he whispers into the skin on my thigh, causing warmth to spread down over my knee and all the way up my hip. "I don't know what to say to you." His voice is so burdened with passion. For me. For my hurting, my love, my body, my soul, and all the sadness hanging in the air. He sounds as if he could die in my lap and be content knowing that he was touching me when he left this world. I kiss his hair and he kisses my naked thigh in return.
"Say that you love me, Tasuki," I answer him, whispering the words softly. Even though there are a thousand words he could say to me to ease the pain of my heart, these are the only ones I would believe, the only ones that could melt away the sorrow from around my soul. These are the only ones that I truly need to hear, long to hear. And I want them as much as I want him.
My heart seems to slow as I wait. I stop my breath, and I feel him shift beneath me. He lifts his head from my lap and lets go of my hips. He spreads my legs, making the throbbing desire between them suddenly flare. His fingers linger on my inner thighs for a moment, and he looks up at me with his deep, haunting eyes as if finally trying to share his mind with me. The warmth of his hands seems to burn the delicate skin on the inside of my legs, and I bite my lip in anticipation of what he will do to me next.
"I love you," he says to me, leaning forward into me. He moves himself between my legs slowly and gently, his body communicating to mine somehow. He plants one foot on the floor to lift himself slightly, pushing himself upward and into my embrace. Our bodies connect, his naked chest pressing to my breasts, his stomach pressing to mine, his hands on the bed to catch us as we fal. I respond quickly, my arms wrapping themselves around him instinctively. We fall upon his bed slowly, like a wave upon the sand. My legs are spread open and curled around him, resting comfortably on his hips. He trails a line of soft kisses along my jaw and neck and buries his face in my wet hair, and I hear him breath in the scent of rain mixed with the scent of my body. I press my cheek to his, completing our chaste but sensual embrace
He leans his weight harder into me and curls an arm under my back, partially picking me up, straightening us out on the bed so our legs won't be dangling over the side. He slowly lies down on top of me, his warmth immediately enveloping my entire body. I welcome every bit of him. I inhale deeply, relieved and overjoyed that so many burdens have been finally lifted from me. I relish the subtle scent of his skin, the heat of his chest covering me, the warm breeze I feel on my neck every time he exhales. I consume him from the outside in, knowing that I won't be satisfied until I have had every last part of him.
"You aren't angry with me?" I whisper into his ear, so close that I am kissing his earring.
"Why would I be angry with you?" he asks, pulling his arm out from beneath me and using it to support himself as his other hand twists a wet tendril of my hair around its fingers. He shifts his body to lay beside me and relieve me of some of his weight. He lifts his head from my hair and lets his face hover inches above mine. I can feel the heat of his breath on my cheeks. I can see straight into his eye, and their strangeness enchants me. They hold a power over me, controlling and manipulating me. But I don't resist them.
"For the lies,.for how long it took me to tell you the truth.for what I said to you on the veranda...for what I didn't say to you..." Actually, I should beg his forgiveness for many other things than just these few. I have no right to him. I have no right to be so close to his face, to be so warm beneath him, to be so captivated by his mere presence. But he seems to think I do.
"I told you that none of that matters now," he answers me, his eyes demanding that I understand, "But what does matter is that I go, complete my duty, and come back." The emerald and gold sheen of his eyes brighten for a moment, and all I can do is stare at them. "And you said that you'd come with me, didn't you? You would come back to the mountain even though you would be returning to the place of your birth? Could you do that? Are you ready to do that?" His voice tries to be calm and smooth, but his worry is evident in every word.
I unwrap my arms from around his neck and back and press my palms to his cheeks. "If you were with me, I would be ready to die," I say to him. He smiles, but closes his eyes almost in sadness.
"We have many years before we come to that...but either way, that's damn good to know," he answers slowly, his words once again heavy with his familiar nonchalance. He lowers his mouth close to mine and whispers words into my mouth, the words that I am addicted to hearing now
"I love you."
I won't let him tease me anymore. Before he can lift himself and bury his face in my hair again, I crush his half-naked body to mine and seal my mouth hungrily over his. Although it has only been a couple of days, it seems so long since I last kissed him. I savor the familiarity of his taste, always having the subtle flavor of sake prominent on his tongue. I feel as if I am drinking him, gently taking his emotions into me by way of our mouths sealed together. The brush of his fangs across the thin skin of the inside of my lips causes a moan to rise from my throat unintentionally, and I kiss him even more fiercely. He smiles into my mouth, obviously pleased with himself at how I'm reacting to him.
"Take me with you," I plead, the sound of my voice echoing inside his mouth. He stops kissing me and wrenches his lips from mine, almost as if I have stung him. He looks confused, and suddenly I realize what I just asked him. I thought I would be content to wait for him to return from Hokkan, then leave with him for Mount Reikaku. But my heart seems to want something different. Inside my soul, I don't want him to leave me behind. And I let my soul speak, instead of my logic.
"To Hokkan?" he asks, "Tansho...no...no, I can't take you. It's too dangerous."
"Please," I whisper, "I can't wait here, not knowing if you're hurt...or dead. I want to be there with you. I can't stay here alone."
"Tansho." The way he says my name makes the burning in my abdomen ignite yet again and begin to spread over me. I even feel it sprout on my insides, tangling with my veins and my organs. "I'll be fine. And I'll come back. And I'll take you with me when I go home." He lowers his lips to my forehead and kisses me softly between the eyes. "Believe me. Please."
I try to believe him, and I am ashamed that I can't put all of my trust in him. I should be able to. Unlike me, he doesn't lie. But can I truly stay here for a month, three months, half a year--alone? Without him to comfort me, to tell me he loves me, to hold me, to make love to me, to talk to me, to listen to me? Oh dear gods, is such a thing possible? I pray that it is. I know that I cannot go with him. Even though I would gladly die beside him, I know he would never even allow me to stand next to him in the first place. If possible, he would forever keep me behind him-- safe from everything that the world could use against me.
"I believe you," I finally answer. Another damn lie. Is this the only thing I am able to do well besides pleasing a man? Lie? I feel like crying. In shame, I bury my face in his neck, trying to drown my doubt in the red blaze of his hair and the cool smoothness of his earring on my temple. He smells like me, I realize. It seems fit, seeing as how our bodies have been pressed together so many times. Or perhaps it is me who has taken his scent upon myself.
Please Tansho, I beg myself, please don't doubt him. If you doubt him, you will lose him.
I will do anything humanly possible to keep him in this world. So I force myself to see him. I imagine the days of the near future. Everything is done, finished, over. I am well; he is unhurt and alive. I am standing on the veranda of the tavern, and he is facing me. His familiar smirk and tantalizing fangs adorn his face. He seems tired but happy. Tired from his journey; happy that he has returned, that we will be going home. Our home, on the mountain--together.
In my mind's eye, I watch us walk away together. I don't even bother to take anything with me from the tavern. I need nothing but him. I am free, unburdened, and anticipating my new life. My life. My new life with Tasuki. I watch us go home, and my heart is finally able to believe him. My doubts are vanquished by the warmth of his breath on my neck, and I surrender to his eager and gentle hands, believing in all that is to come.
A/N: *Hysterical applause fills Iseult's computer room* Finally, it has been revealed!!! Tansho's mysterious past has been told!!! Oh thank god, now I don't have to fret over your reviews anymore nagging me to finally tell you how she came to be in the brothel. Now I can lie back and cruise through the rest of the story....^_^ Ahhhhhh, the simple life.....
So, what will happen next? Surely, these two will not let their last night together before Tasuki leaves for Hokkan go to waste (*Iseult curiously sniffs at the air* Hhhmm...is there a citrus scent floating around in here...or is it just me? ^_^) Hint hint...
P.S. A/N: I have a request for all of you. I asked this of my reader's the first time I posted "Tansho" on FF before it was deleted and got some pretty good info, but I'm curious as to what you guys think. I need some guesses on the amount of time Miaka and the seishi spent on the ship, in Hokkan, and in Sairo-basically, how long was the trip for the shinzahos? This doesn't include the big battle at the end of the anime series, though. After watching the anime again, I've calculated the time frame to be less than a month, but that doesn't seem right to me for some reason. If you're an avid watcher of the series, please do tell me what you think. I'm aware that the time frame of the trip differs somewhat between the anime and manga, so keep in mind that I'm going along with the anime storyline.
Thanks so much for your help!!
Replies to reviewers:
Nako-chan: OK, about how long will this fic be in all? To be blunt, in it's completed form, I consider it an epic. I knew from the beginning that this story would be one of my biggest projects, mostly because I took such care in developing Tansho's character. I couldn't have ever made it a dozen- chapter story or anything less.
Spak-chan: Canada was rally nice. I went the first week of March with my Senior class. It was soooo cold, though (I live in Georgia where the temperature hardly ever gets below 40 degrees F. in mid-winter). I'll e- mail you some time and tell you more details if you'd like. ^_^
Zerianyu: You know, I've read fics like that where the quality kinda tapers off after a while. I've tried my best to avoid this.
Frechiecangal: You know, that part with the guards wasn't in the original version of the fic. I added it in while editing the chapter for re- posting. I'm glad you liked it! ^_^
Chapter 22 The Past and What Is To Come
Now that the time to reveal my true past has finally come, I am unsure of myself and my ability to speak the words that need to be spoken. I feel numb. The warm desire deep in my abdomen has been replaced with a thick churning of bile. I swallow hard again and again, afraid that I will vomit from nervousness.
I realize that I have only one chance to make things right between Tasuki and myself. In only a few hours' time, he will be bound for Hokkan. And he may never return. I must force myself to speak, to tell my all. If not for the relief my own burdened heart, than for my fierce love for Tasuki.
I look down at him and his untamed beauty. I sigh to myself, my breath tinted with both sadness and amusement. What has this man done to me? How has he done this to me? Why him? Why not the dozens of other men whom I thought were beautiful? His soul, of course. Fool, I think to myself, how many times must you tell yourself? His soul is like no other's. It's purity and love has seeped from his skin and saturated my own. He has sunk into my bones, never to dislodge. And I never wish him to.
I continue looking down at his fiery hair, knowing that he will eventually look up at me. Either he will meet my gaze when I utter the first word, or after I have sighed the last. Before or after my heart drains its sorrow, our eyes will meet. I breathe in deeply, impatiently awaiting that moment.
"I was born at the foot of Mount Reikaku." So it begins. After so many years of having to keep my grief to myself, my story is to finally be unraveled. How strange the words sound on my lips-- like another woman's, and not mine at all. And the taste that lingers behind. Bittersweet. Stale. A hint of spice. So strange. Perhaps these are another woman's memories. Perhaps she is the past me, the one who lived this simple life and then the one whose simple life was ripped away. Perhaps this is why my words sound and taste so unnatural in my mouth. Maybe she will be buried when I am through.
At the sound of my words, his eyes shoot through his heavy bangs to meet mine. I smile at him. Just as I had expected--he is surprised. I'm sure he never expected me to say that my birthplace is his home as well. I wonder if he will say something. A question, maybe only a cry of shock. But I don't give him time to speak. I must do the speaking. And I cannot stop now that I have begun. Only when this weight is lifted from my body and soul can I return to silence, to recover and rest after my life of laboring and exhaustion. My smile widens at the thought. I look forward to the tranquil rest that I have earned.
"I lived in a little city in the valley. My mother was a tailoress and had her own buisness, and my father owned a tavern near our house. We weren't wealthy people, but our life was very comfortable compaired to others. We lived well until my father's tavern burned down and he was left without work. We had to depend soley upon mother's tailoring work for nearly three years. Then she became pregnant with my youngest brother...and died giving birth to him..."
I try not to pause here, but I can't help it. I try to block my consciousness from the visions bombarding me. But they come like a flood, like a storm, and they linger. The vision of my mother slowly dying has appeared in my mind and it refuses to leave me. Her mouth open wide as the blood pours from between her legs like a fountain. I remember just standing there and watching as the midwife tried to pull the baby out by force so she could stop my mother's bleeding. My mother's screams of pain- and sheer terror. My brother finally came, and I watched on in horror as my mother's eyelids closed the very minute she touched him. I remember watching the old midwife wipe the blood from my brother and his weight in my arms when she gave him to me to hold, sending me out of the room so that she could bathe my mother's corpse and prepare her for burial. I remember her telling me that it was the least she could do for us. The smell of my mother's blood on the midwife's hands, on my brother's smooth skin, fascinated me and saddened me at the same time. And my brother. His squinting, ocean-colored eyes. His toothless, gaping mouth. His silken hair. His beauty. My dead mother's son, and my brother.
"Tansho..." I hear Tasuki whisper, squeezing my ankle gently to re- awaken me. I guess that the memory is obvious on my face. Wetness trickles down the curves of my cheeks, and I don't bother to brush the tears away. They help me heal; I would be a fool to try to stop them. I keep my eyes situated on the wall, not daring to look my lover in the eyes just yet.
"We had no way to support ourselves for nearly a year. My father tried to find work, but couldn't. He asked a wealthy friend from the capital for a loan to keep us on our feet for a while as he looked for work in neighboring towns and villages. It didn't take long for my father's so- called-friend to come banging on our door, demanding my father to pay his debt. He said he'd kill us all if he didn't pay, but Father had no money..."
I stop again. There is a lump in my throat the size of my fist. The water keeps leaking silently from my eyes. My stomach churns. My mouth goes dry. But I have to keep talking. I must. I must.
"He didn't have any money, so my Father gave me to Shingen as payment for the debt. He had to.everyday Shingen would come by our house and threaten to kill us if he didn't get his money. My Father had to.to protect my brothers and my sister. And I was the oldest.so."
I know the rest. He knows the rest. But I understand that it still must be said-just as everything else was sais.
"And so Shingen brought me here, to the capital, to the Black Dove, where I have been for the past five years," I reply with surprising ease, "And that is how I came to be who I am."
The hollowness of my body has returned, but this is not a painful emptiness--it is a breathtaking release. I heave a sigh and flutter my eyelids, feeling the tears begging to dry. It has been told. It has been heard. I look down at him, and I wait.
His eyes are locked on my face, and I try to pry into his mind to see what he is thinking. Does he pity me? I know that he cannot be angry, he said he had forgiven me for the lies I told him. But does he pity me and my sorrowful past? Or is it shock? Disbelief? I try to read his eyes but I can't see anything but their dark green and golden shimmering. They are hiding everything from me. I want to press my forehead to his, to connect with his mind somehow, just to see the inside of him. Oh gods, tell me what he is thinking, I plead. Oh please let him speak to me. I cannot stand the silence and the overwhelming power of his staring eyes. Their intensity is enveloping me. Does he not realize the power he has over me?
"Please say something," I whisper huskily, pleading with him. His fingers release my foot and he moves the muddy-watered basin away from him. I watch as he gets to his knees and kneels in front of me. He gently pushes my thighs together until my knees touch, then lays his head in the naked hollow of my lap, his hands resting on my hips. He caresses my skin through the fabric of his soft cotton shirt that he loaned to me, awakening me instantly with his serene and luxurious touch. Confused by his strange yet gentle actions, I lean over him and press my cheek to the cool smoothness of his shiny red hair. The fingers of my right hand slowly comb through his hair while my other hand rests on his back. He hugs my lap when I touch him, and I hug him in return.
"Tell me what to say, Tansho," he whispers into the skin on my thigh, causing warmth to spread down over my knee and all the way up my hip. "I don't know what to say to you." His voice is so burdened with passion. For me. For my hurting, my love, my body, my soul, and all the sadness hanging in the air. He sounds as if he could die in my lap and be content knowing that he was touching me when he left this world. I kiss his hair and he kisses my naked thigh in return.
"Say that you love me, Tasuki," I answer him, whispering the words softly. Even though there are a thousand words he could say to me to ease the pain of my heart, these are the only ones I would believe, the only ones that could melt away the sorrow from around my soul. These are the only ones that I truly need to hear, long to hear. And I want them as much as I want him.
My heart seems to slow as I wait. I stop my breath, and I feel him shift beneath me. He lifts his head from my lap and lets go of my hips. He spreads my legs, making the throbbing desire between them suddenly flare. His fingers linger on my inner thighs for a moment, and he looks up at me with his deep, haunting eyes as if finally trying to share his mind with me. The warmth of his hands seems to burn the delicate skin on the inside of my legs, and I bite my lip in anticipation of what he will do to me next.
"I love you," he says to me, leaning forward into me. He moves himself between my legs slowly and gently, his body communicating to mine somehow. He plants one foot on the floor to lift himself slightly, pushing himself upward and into my embrace. Our bodies connect, his naked chest pressing to my breasts, his stomach pressing to mine, his hands on the bed to catch us as we fal. I respond quickly, my arms wrapping themselves around him instinctively. We fall upon his bed slowly, like a wave upon the sand. My legs are spread open and curled around him, resting comfortably on his hips. He trails a line of soft kisses along my jaw and neck and buries his face in my wet hair, and I hear him breath in the scent of rain mixed with the scent of my body. I press my cheek to his, completing our chaste but sensual embrace
He leans his weight harder into me and curls an arm under my back, partially picking me up, straightening us out on the bed so our legs won't be dangling over the side. He slowly lies down on top of me, his warmth immediately enveloping my entire body. I welcome every bit of him. I inhale deeply, relieved and overjoyed that so many burdens have been finally lifted from me. I relish the subtle scent of his skin, the heat of his chest covering me, the warm breeze I feel on my neck every time he exhales. I consume him from the outside in, knowing that I won't be satisfied until I have had every last part of him.
"You aren't angry with me?" I whisper into his ear, so close that I am kissing his earring.
"Why would I be angry with you?" he asks, pulling his arm out from beneath me and using it to support himself as his other hand twists a wet tendril of my hair around its fingers. He shifts his body to lay beside me and relieve me of some of his weight. He lifts his head from my hair and lets his face hover inches above mine. I can feel the heat of his breath on my cheeks. I can see straight into his eye, and their strangeness enchants me. They hold a power over me, controlling and manipulating me. But I don't resist them.
"For the lies,.for how long it took me to tell you the truth.for what I said to you on the veranda...for what I didn't say to you..." Actually, I should beg his forgiveness for many other things than just these few. I have no right to him. I have no right to be so close to his face, to be so warm beneath him, to be so captivated by his mere presence. But he seems to think I do.
"I told you that none of that matters now," he answers me, his eyes demanding that I understand, "But what does matter is that I go, complete my duty, and come back." The emerald and gold sheen of his eyes brighten for a moment, and all I can do is stare at them. "And you said that you'd come with me, didn't you? You would come back to the mountain even though you would be returning to the place of your birth? Could you do that? Are you ready to do that?" His voice tries to be calm and smooth, but his worry is evident in every word.
I unwrap my arms from around his neck and back and press my palms to his cheeks. "If you were with me, I would be ready to die," I say to him. He smiles, but closes his eyes almost in sadness.
"We have many years before we come to that...but either way, that's damn good to know," he answers slowly, his words once again heavy with his familiar nonchalance. He lowers his mouth close to mine and whispers words into my mouth, the words that I am addicted to hearing now
"I love you."
I won't let him tease me anymore. Before he can lift himself and bury his face in my hair again, I crush his half-naked body to mine and seal my mouth hungrily over his. Although it has only been a couple of days, it seems so long since I last kissed him. I savor the familiarity of his taste, always having the subtle flavor of sake prominent on his tongue. I feel as if I am drinking him, gently taking his emotions into me by way of our mouths sealed together. The brush of his fangs across the thin skin of the inside of my lips causes a moan to rise from my throat unintentionally, and I kiss him even more fiercely. He smiles into my mouth, obviously pleased with himself at how I'm reacting to him.
"Take me with you," I plead, the sound of my voice echoing inside his mouth. He stops kissing me and wrenches his lips from mine, almost as if I have stung him. He looks confused, and suddenly I realize what I just asked him. I thought I would be content to wait for him to return from Hokkan, then leave with him for Mount Reikaku. But my heart seems to want something different. Inside my soul, I don't want him to leave me behind. And I let my soul speak, instead of my logic.
"To Hokkan?" he asks, "Tansho...no...no, I can't take you. It's too dangerous."
"Please," I whisper, "I can't wait here, not knowing if you're hurt...or dead. I want to be there with you. I can't stay here alone."
"Tansho." The way he says my name makes the burning in my abdomen ignite yet again and begin to spread over me. I even feel it sprout on my insides, tangling with my veins and my organs. "I'll be fine. And I'll come back. And I'll take you with me when I go home." He lowers his lips to my forehead and kisses me softly between the eyes. "Believe me. Please."
I try to believe him, and I am ashamed that I can't put all of my trust in him. I should be able to. Unlike me, he doesn't lie. But can I truly stay here for a month, three months, half a year--alone? Without him to comfort me, to tell me he loves me, to hold me, to make love to me, to talk to me, to listen to me? Oh dear gods, is such a thing possible? I pray that it is. I know that I cannot go with him. Even though I would gladly die beside him, I know he would never even allow me to stand next to him in the first place. If possible, he would forever keep me behind him-- safe from everything that the world could use against me.
"I believe you," I finally answer. Another damn lie. Is this the only thing I am able to do well besides pleasing a man? Lie? I feel like crying. In shame, I bury my face in his neck, trying to drown my doubt in the red blaze of his hair and the cool smoothness of his earring on my temple. He smells like me, I realize. It seems fit, seeing as how our bodies have been pressed together so many times. Or perhaps it is me who has taken his scent upon myself.
Please Tansho, I beg myself, please don't doubt him. If you doubt him, you will lose him.
I will do anything humanly possible to keep him in this world. So I force myself to see him. I imagine the days of the near future. Everything is done, finished, over. I am well; he is unhurt and alive. I am standing on the veranda of the tavern, and he is facing me. His familiar smirk and tantalizing fangs adorn his face. He seems tired but happy. Tired from his journey; happy that he has returned, that we will be going home. Our home, on the mountain--together.
In my mind's eye, I watch us walk away together. I don't even bother to take anything with me from the tavern. I need nothing but him. I am free, unburdened, and anticipating my new life. My life. My new life with Tasuki. I watch us go home, and my heart is finally able to believe him. My doubts are vanquished by the warmth of his breath on my neck, and I surrender to his eager and gentle hands, believing in all that is to come.
A/N: *Hysterical applause fills Iseult's computer room* Finally, it has been revealed!!! Tansho's mysterious past has been told!!! Oh thank god, now I don't have to fret over your reviews anymore nagging me to finally tell you how she came to be in the brothel. Now I can lie back and cruise through the rest of the story....^_^ Ahhhhhh, the simple life.....
So, what will happen next? Surely, these two will not let their last night together before Tasuki leaves for Hokkan go to waste (*Iseult curiously sniffs at the air* Hhhmm...is there a citrus scent floating around in here...or is it just me? ^_^) Hint hint...
P.S. A/N: I have a request for all of you. I asked this of my reader's the first time I posted "Tansho" on FF before it was deleted and got some pretty good info, but I'm curious as to what you guys think. I need some guesses on the amount of time Miaka and the seishi spent on the ship, in Hokkan, and in Sairo-basically, how long was the trip for the shinzahos? This doesn't include the big battle at the end of the anime series, though. After watching the anime again, I've calculated the time frame to be less than a month, but that doesn't seem right to me for some reason. If you're an avid watcher of the series, please do tell me what you think. I'm aware that the time frame of the trip differs somewhat between the anime and manga, so keep in mind that I'm going along with the anime storyline.
Thanks so much for your help!!
Replies to reviewers:
Nako-chan: OK, about how long will this fic be in all? To be blunt, in it's completed form, I consider it an epic. I knew from the beginning that this story would be one of my biggest projects, mostly because I took such care in developing Tansho's character. I couldn't have ever made it a dozen- chapter story or anything less.
Spak-chan: Canada was rally nice. I went the first week of March with my Senior class. It was soooo cold, though (I live in Georgia where the temperature hardly ever gets below 40 degrees F. in mid-winter). I'll e- mail you some time and tell you more details if you'd like. ^_^
Zerianyu: You know, I've read fics like that where the quality kinda tapers off after a while. I've tried my best to avoid this.
Frechiecangal: You know, that part with the guards wasn't in the original version of the fic. I added it in while editing the chapter for re- posting. I'm glad you liked it! ^_^