Disclaimer: Blah, Blah, Blah...I don't own FY or the characters...but I own
my OC, OK? ^_^
Chapter 27 Plead
"I can't hear you tell me goodbye," I repeat. I know he heard me the first time, but I have to tell him again. I curl my arms under his and press my palms to the thick muscles that line his backbone. They clench under my hands when he tightens his hold on me.
"I won't tell you goodbye, Tansho," he says, lowering his face close to my ear so he can whisper, "If you don't want me to, I won't." I try to resist the urge to look at him. I have no idea why, though. At first I think I am afraid that if I look at him, the power of his eyes will trap me. Trap me and hold me forever.
Fuck it, my mind whispers to me.
So I lift my chin and aim my eyes at his, instantly being engulfed by the green darkness etched so oddly with a golden sheen. There is no use to fighting anymore. He has me. I couldn't leave even if my life depended on it. Yes, I will stay with him until the end. I will watch him leave me, but I won't hear him tell me goodbye. That makes a world of difference to me. As long as he doesn't tell me goodbye, it means that he is still partially here somehow. Somehow.
His lips connect with my forehead gently, making me close my eyes at their softness. He hugs me close to him for a moment, then releases me and walks briskly to the door.
"Are you hungry?" he asks, opening the door and leaning out a bit onto the wooden veranda.
I nod slowly, suddenly aware of the sickly empty feeling in my stomach.
He smiles and leans further out the door, his eyes searching for something or someone.
"Hey there, miss!" he calls out loudly, apparently to a servant girl, "Could you have some food brought here?" He pauses for a moment, then shouts an enthusiastic "Thank you!" before coming back into the room. I frown at his rudeness in hollering at the girl, but realize that the poor servants of the palace are probably used to his jovial obnoxiousness.
"It'll be here in a minute," he says, "Let me get my clothes off the chair so you can sit by the fire." He walks past me, deliberately brushing my side lightly with his hand to tease me. I can sense his sadness with his touch. He knows what I know. He's leaving soon. Too soon.
He grabs his undershirt from the back of the chair and snaps it against the air, as a laundry maid would do to a linen. He then drapes it over his forearm and smoothes the soft material with his palm, trying his best to get the wrinkles out. When satisfied, he pulls the shirt over his head, ruffling his already disheveled hair in the process. He throws his heavy black overcoat on the bed, deciding the room is too warm to wear it.
He takes the back of the chair and positions it closer to the table, but makes sure the warmth of the fire can still reach it. All the while he is doing these things, I am watching him silently. I think of how horribly I will miss him and how much he will miss me. I wonder what kind of adventures he will have on his journey-- if he will have to fight, if he will be hurt. I force my mind to stop there; I can't go any farther. I'm too afraid that if I even think it, it will happen.
"Tansho?" his voice breaks me away from my reverie, and I see him holding the back of the chair like a gentleman waiting for his lady to take a seat. I smile and walk towards him, charmed by his obvious attempt at simple chivalry. I sit and feel his fingertips graze my shoulders. My soul surges within me and before I can stop myself, I suddenly grab his hands and press them to my face. The heels of his palms press gently into my jawbone, and his fingertips graze the edges of my lips. I hold the backs of his hands with mine, cradling myself with his palms. I force myself to keep my emotions in check, to keep from exploding into a torrent of tears and moans. Gods, I can't even let him touch me with his fingertips without feeling utter hopelessness. What in hell will I do when he is gone? When he is nowhere near me-how will I be able to stand it?
I am so afraid to let him go. I don't want to. He gently pulls his hands from my grasp and encircles me with his arms, resting my head in the warm valley formed by his neck and shoulder. He can feel my despair, and I can feel his anxiety. My ear is so close to his neck that I can hear his blood pulsing through his veins. We stay the way we are for a long time. Me sitting with my spine pressed hard against the back of the chair, wanting to be as close as possible to him; him leaning over my shoulder, holding on to me as if he were anchoring me, keeping me from floating away.
"I don't want to leave you here," he suddenly whispers into my ear.
I turn my head slightly to get a glimpse of his eyes. They are closed, and his eyelids work vigorously to stay shut. I wonder why he is afraid to look at me. Perhaps an ocean of tears is being held back and he doesn't want to drown me in them.
"Let me arrange for you to be kept here in the palace," he tells me. " Or I can send for some of the guys back on the mountain to come and escort you back there. You can wait there until I get back from Hokkan. You'll be safe there. They'll take care of you." He talks too fast, too urgently, too nervously. I curl my arms around his, pressing them tighter to my chest. He holds me so desperately.
"No, Tasuki," I say sadly. He has forgotten what I told him the night before. "You forget that Shingen has the right to search for me, and if he finds me, he has the right to punish me as he sees fit. Even your bandits cannot escape the law and rights of slave owners and their properties." I pause, suddenly realizing something else, something that makes my heart clench in my chest. "Maybe they could protect me like you say, but Shingen has an advantage over me--the other women in the tavern. He knows I care for them. He has leverage over me; he could threaten them in order to force me to return to the tavern if I try to leave."
I can feel his anger seeping though his chest and into the thin material of my gown, almost burning my skin with its intensity. I tense at first, wondering if he is angry with me for finding fault in his plan even if it was devised out of love and the desire to protect me.
"Please, Tasuki, I..."
"Damn that bastard...damn him to hell," he whispers through clenched teeth. "Damn him and his fucking tavern." His whole body tenses, but mine relaxes. He isn't mad at me, thank the gods. He is far from it. His anger is directed at Shingen; it always has been. I'm a fool for not knowing this all along.
His grip tightens on me almost painfully, making me gasp in surprise. He lets go of me abruptly, knowing that his control is seeping away too swiftly, knowing that he cannot have contact with anything or anyone--especially me, who he fears of hurting more than anything. I feel air blow on my cheek as he turns from me and toward the fire. I hear him begin to pace, every emotion ravishing his insides unmistakenly evident in every step he takes.
I can hear his anguish and his heartache for me, because of the fact that in a matter of hours we will be apart. I can hear his anger and his hatred for Shingen, for the tavern, the place that he knows owns me. I can hear his love, ringing above all the others like the voice of a god, bringing me relief. I find it amazing that I can sense such things from him. Things that maybe even he can't contemplate.
"Please don't worry for me," I say, not turning to look at him. I know he's listening to me. "Focus on your mission...your destiny. Shingen has hurt me in all ways imaginable for half a decade. He hasn't killed me yet, and I know he won't. He's afraid to. He knows how valuable I am. And I think he knows about you as well-who you are." I know I take a chance by speaking. I can feel energy radiating from Tasuki even though he is far from me, and I know his anger makes up a large portion of that energy. I don't know what he could do. He wouldn't do anything to me. I trust him. I know him. But I cannot speak for others who might happen to cross his path any time soon.
My breath catches in my throat when I hear a knock on the door. Nervously, I glance over my shoulder, only to see him still pacing. I get up from the chair, my eyes never leaving Tasuki's pacing form. My bare feet skid uncertainly to the door, and I peek out to see the curious and innocent eyes of a young maidservant. I want to tell her to leave and not come back, that the entire palace may be engulfed with fire by noon; but I only smile and open the door wider.
"Oh, excuse me, Ma'am," she replies, covering her mouth with her fingertips, "I have the wrong room. I was looked for Master Tasuki." She bows and turns to leave, balancing an obviously heavy tray on her palms. I realize that it's the breakfast Tasuki ordered for us and quickly stop the girl.
"No," I say hastily, "This is Master Tasuki's room." She turns, her eyes instantly showing her shock even though I'm sure she intended to hide it. No doubt Tasuki would not have had many lady visitors before me, seeing as he is still known in the palace as being a notorious misogynist. The poor girl seems a bit nervous, so I reach my hands out and take the tray from her.
"Thank you," I say kindly, smiling. She stutters for a moment, wondering if she should protest, but I retreat back into the room and shut the door before she has a chance to say anything. I can only pray that she doesn't go squalling to a guard that a strange woman is staying in the room of one of the warriors of Suzaku.
I nudge the door closed with a swing of my hip before returning to the table. Tasuki has stopped pacing and is looking at me. I set the tray down on the table slowly, my eyes on his, wondering what he is thinking.
"Breakfast is here," I say cheerfully, hoping he will calm down and sit with me long enough to regain his sanity. I look down, then look up at him again through my eyelashes, knowing how foolish I may appear. But I do it because I know I have an affect on him. I watch in satisfaction as his eyes soften and his body relaxes. "Don't you want to sit with me?" I ask softly, inclining my head toward the chair across from me, farthest from the fire.
Without a word, he obeys my request and sits. I pour him a cup of tea and reach my hand across the table, motioning for him to take it. His fingers wrap around mine, but when he tries to take the cup from my grasp, I hold tight. My simple action forces his eyes to rise and meet mine. I grip the cup tighter and look softly at him.
"Please don't be so angry--don't be so sad," I whisper to him, barely able to hear even myself. I want to tell him to stop being so goddamned selfish and uncaring as to what his emotions and actions are doing to me-- even if they are fueled by his love for me. His pride is all that it boils down to. He and I both know it. He hates the fact that he cannot do what he so desperately wants to do for me. He hates the fact that he is helpless for once in his life. He hates the fact that he fell in love with me and I with him. He hates the fact that he is leaving in a matter of hours, not knowing if I will be dead before he returns--or if he will die before even getting the chance to return. He hates not knowing if he will be able to save me when it is all over.
By the touch of his fingers on mine, and by the burning in his eyes, I can see all of this as clearly as my own reflection in a mirror. For the first time in my life, I am able to communicate with a person without the use of my mouth or even my ears. And this is what I receive from him: despair and hate and anger and love. So many emotions that have no business being anywhere near each other. And yet here they are, electrocuting me through contact with Tasuki's skin, penetrating me. Everything inside of his spirit shooting through me, ripping me and tearing me mercilessly as they rip and tear him in the same way. And all I can do is plead with him to stop, hoping with all of my heart that the pain will stop for both of us. Let it stop, and let us heal. Let us be healed, for we will soon be apart. And I know the pain of the heart will kill us both long before the evil of this world can touch us.
A/N: Yes, I know, yet another depressing chapter. I've tried (believe me) to make this story as upbeat as possible, but due to my current state of depression and the overall feel of the story, I've decided to just let it go where it wants to go. I also have a bit of pressure on me concerning college so that most definitely hasn't helped.
And I'm an idiot because I've restarted one of my original fics after feeling guilty for neglecting it. Just some more stress to add!
Chapter 27 Plead
"I can't hear you tell me goodbye," I repeat. I know he heard me the first time, but I have to tell him again. I curl my arms under his and press my palms to the thick muscles that line his backbone. They clench under my hands when he tightens his hold on me.
"I won't tell you goodbye, Tansho," he says, lowering his face close to my ear so he can whisper, "If you don't want me to, I won't." I try to resist the urge to look at him. I have no idea why, though. At first I think I am afraid that if I look at him, the power of his eyes will trap me. Trap me and hold me forever.
Fuck it, my mind whispers to me.
So I lift my chin and aim my eyes at his, instantly being engulfed by the green darkness etched so oddly with a golden sheen. There is no use to fighting anymore. He has me. I couldn't leave even if my life depended on it. Yes, I will stay with him until the end. I will watch him leave me, but I won't hear him tell me goodbye. That makes a world of difference to me. As long as he doesn't tell me goodbye, it means that he is still partially here somehow. Somehow.
His lips connect with my forehead gently, making me close my eyes at their softness. He hugs me close to him for a moment, then releases me and walks briskly to the door.
"Are you hungry?" he asks, opening the door and leaning out a bit onto the wooden veranda.
I nod slowly, suddenly aware of the sickly empty feeling in my stomach.
He smiles and leans further out the door, his eyes searching for something or someone.
"Hey there, miss!" he calls out loudly, apparently to a servant girl, "Could you have some food brought here?" He pauses for a moment, then shouts an enthusiastic "Thank you!" before coming back into the room. I frown at his rudeness in hollering at the girl, but realize that the poor servants of the palace are probably used to his jovial obnoxiousness.
"It'll be here in a minute," he says, "Let me get my clothes off the chair so you can sit by the fire." He walks past me, deliberately brushing my side lightly with his hand to tease me. I can sense his sadness with his touch. He knows what I know. He's leaving soon. Too soon.
He grabs his undershirt from the back of the chair and snaps it against the air, as a laundry maid would do to a linen. He then drapes it over his forearm and smoothes the soft material with his palm, trying his best to get the wrinkles out. When satisfied, he pulls the shirt over his head, ruffling his already disheveled hair in the process. He throws his heavy black overcoat on the bed, deciding the room is too warm to wear it.
He takes the back of the chair and positions it closer to the table, but makes sure the warmth of the fire can still reach it. All the while he is doing these things, I am watching him silently. I think of how horribly I will miss him and how much he will miss me. I wonder what kind of adventures he will have on his journey-- if he will have to fight, if he will be hurt. I force my mind to stop there; I can't go any farther. I'm too afraid that if I even think it, it will happen.
"Tansho?" his voice breaks me away from my reverie, and I see him holding the back of the chair like a gentleman waiting for his lady to take a seat. I smile and walk towards him, charmed by his obvious attempt at simple chivalry. I sit and feel his fingertips graze my shoulders. My soul surges within me and before I can stop myself, I suddenly grab his hands and press them to my face. The heels of his palms press gently into my jawbone, and his fingertips graze the edges of my lips. I hold the backs of his hands with mine, cradling myself with his palms. I force myself to keep my emotions in check, to keep from exploding into a torrent of tears and moans. Gods, I can't even let him touch me with his fingertips without feeling utter hopelessness. What in hell will I do when he is gone? When he is nowhere near me-how will I be able to stand it?
I am so afraid to let him go. I don't want to. He gently pulls his hands from my grasp and encircles me with his arms, resting my head in the warm valley formed by his neck and shoulder. He can feel my despair, and I can feel his anxiety. My ear is so close to his neck that I can hear his blood pulsing through his veins. We stay the way we are for a long time. Me sitting with my spine pressed hard against the back of the chair, wanting to be as close as possible to him; him leaning over my shoulder, holding on to me as if he were anchoring me, keeping me from floating away.
"I don't want to leave you here," he suddenly whispers into my ear.
I turn my head slightly to get a glimpse of his eyes. They are closed, and his eyelids work vigorously to stay shut. I wonder why he is afraid to look at me. Perhaps an ocean of tears is being held back and he doesn't want to drown me in them.
"Let me arrange for you to be kept here in the palace," he tells me. " Or I can send for some of the guys back on the mountain to come and escort you back there. You can wait there until I get back from Hokkan. You'll be safe there. They'll take care of you." He talks too fast, too urgently, too nervously. I curl my arms around his, pressing them tighter to my chest. He holds me so desperately.
"No, Tasuki," I say sadly. He has forgotten what I told him the night before. "You forget that Shingen has the right to search for me, and if he finds me, he has the right to punish me as he sees fit. Even your bandits cannot escape the law and rights of slave owners and their properties." I pause, suddenly realizing something else, something that makes my heart clench in my chest. "Maybe they could protect me like you say, but Shingen has an advantage over me--the other women in the tavern. He knows I care for them. He has leverage over me; he could threaten them in order to force me to return to the tavern if I try to leave."
I can feel his anger seeping though his chest and into the thin material of my gown, almost burning my skin with its intensity. I tense at first, wondering if he is angry with me for finding fault in his plan even if it was devised out of love and the desire to protect me.
"Please, Tasuki, I..."
"Damn that bastard...damn him to hell," he whispers through clenched teeth. "Damn him and his fucking tavern." His whole body tenses, but mine relaxes. He isn't mad at me, thank the gods. He is far from it. His anger is directed at Shingen; it always has been. I'm a fool for not knowing this all along.
His grip tightens on me almost painfully, making me gasp in surprise. He lets go of me abruptly, knowing that his control is seeping away too swiftly, knowing that he cannot have contact with anything or anyone--especially me, who he fears of hurting more than anything. I feel air blow on my cheek as he turns from me and toward the fire. I hear him begin to pace, every emotion ravishing his insides unmistakenly evident in every step he takes.
I can hear his anguish and his heartache for me, because of the fact that in a matter of hours we will be apart. I can hear his anger and his hatred for Shingen, for the tavern, the place that he knows owns me. I can hear his love, ringing above all the others like the voice of a god, bringing me relief. I find it amazing that I can sense such things from him. Things that maybe even he can't contemplate.
"Please don't worry for me," I say, not turning to look at him. I know he's listening to me. "Focus on your mission...your destiny. Shingen has hurt me in all ways imaginable for half a decade. He hasn't killed me yet, and I know he won't. He's afraid to. He knows how valuable I am. And I think he knows about you as well-who you are." I know I take a chance by speaking. I can feel energy radiating from Tasuki even though he is far from me, and I know his anger makes up a large portion of that energy. I don't know what he could do. He wouldn't do anything to me. I trust him. I know him. But I cannot speak for others who might happen to cross his path any time soon.
My breath catches in my throat when I hear a knock on the door. Nervously, I glance over my shoulder, only to see him still pacing. I get up from the chair, my eyes never leaving Tasuki's pacing form. My bare feet skid uncertainly to the door, and I peek out to see the curious and innocent eyes of a young maidservant. I want to tell her to leave and not come back, that the entire palace may be engulfed with fire by noon; but I only smile and open the door wider.
"Oh, excuse me, Ma'am," she replies, covering her mouth with her fingertips, "I have the wrong room. I was looked for Master Tasuki." She bows and turns to leave, balancing an obviously heavy tray on her palms. I realize that it's the breakfast Tasuki ordered for us and quickly stop the girl.
"No," I say hastily, "This is Master Tasuki's room." She turns, her eyes instantly showing her shock even though I'm sure she intended to hide it. No doubt Tasuki would not have had many lady visitors before me, seeing as he is still known in the palace as being a notorious misogynist. The poor girl seems a bit nervous, so I reach my hands out and take the tray from her.
"Thank you," I say kindly, smiling. She stutters for a moment, wondering if she should protest, but I retreat back into the room and shut the door before she has a chance to say anything. I can only pray that she doesn't go squalling to a guard that a strange woman is staying in the room of one of the warriors of Suzaku.
I nudge the door closed with a swing of my hip before returning to the table. Tasuki has stopped pacing and is looking at me. I set the tray down on the table slowly, my eyes on his, wondering what he is thinking.
"Breakfast is here," I say cheerfully, hoping he will calm down and sit with me long enough to regain his sanity. I look down, then look up at him again through my eyelashes, knowing how foolish I may appear. But I do it because I know I have an affect on him. I watch in satisfaction as his eyes soften and his body relaxes. "Don't you want to sit with me?" I ask softly, inclining my head toward the chair across from me, farthest from the fire.
Without a word, he obeys my request and sits. I pour him a cup of tea and reach my hand across the table, motioning for him to take it. His fingers wrap around mine, but when he tries to take the cup from my grasp, I hold tight. My simple action forces his eyes to rise and meet mine. I grip the cup tighter and look softly at him.
"Please don't be so angry--don't be so sad," I whisper to him, barely able to hear even myself. I want to tell him to stop being so goddamned selfish and uncaring as to what his emotions and actions are doing to me-- even if they are fueled by his love for me. His pride is all that it boils down to. He and I both know it. He hates the fact that he cannot do what he so desperately wants to do for me. He hates the fact that he is helpless for once in his life. He hates the fact that he fell in love with me and I with him. He hates the fact that he is leaving in a matter of hours, not knowing if I will be dead before he returns--or if he will die before even getting the chance to return. He hates not knowing if he will be able to save me when it is all over.
By the touch of his fingers on mine, and by the burning in his eyes, I can see all of this as clearly as my own reflection in a mirror. For the first time in my life, I am able to communicate with a person without the use of my mouth or even my ears. And this is what I receive from him: despair and hate and anger and love. So many emotions that have no business being anywhere near each other. And yet here they are, electrocuting me through contact with Tasuki's skin, penetrating me. Everything inside of his spirit shooting through me, ripping me and tearing me mercilessly as they rip and tear him in the same way. And all I can do is plead with him to stop, hoping with all of my heart that the pain will stop for both of us. Let it stop, and let us heal. Let us be healed, for we will soon be apart. And I know the pain of the heart will kill us both long before the evil of this world can touch us.
A/N: Yes, I know, yet another depressing chapter. I've tried (believe me) to make this story as upbeat as possible, but due to my current state of depression and the overall feel of the story, I've decided to just let it go where it wants to go. I also have a bit of pressure on me concerning college so that most definitely hasn't helped.
And I'm an idiot because I've restarted one of my original fics after feeling guilty for neglecting it. Just some more stress to add!