Disclaimer: Hello there! You know damn well that I don't own FY so I'm not
even gonna bother typing it. (But I do own Tansho ^_^)
A/N: Ok, I think this is the last chapter I got posted on FF before hell ascended from the pits of the earth and FF deleted my account. I'm pretty sure! So I guess that means the brand spankin' new chapter in coming up next!!!! ^_^
Chapter 28 Blue and Red, Sorrow and Love
We eat in silence, and I hate him and myself for it. We should be speaking to each other, expressing anything and everything that comes into our heads, not caring what it is. But no, we sit in silence and emptiness as if waiting for our deaths.
I halt my chopsticks just long enough to look up at him. He hasn't bothered to smooth his unruly hair or tuck his cotton shirt into his trousers. He's leaning close to the table, a bowl of rice tilted toward his mouth, his chopsticks working vigorously to shovel his mouth full. Satisfied that there is no more left in the small bowl, he returns it to the table and drags the back of his hand over his mouth. He reaches for his tea and gulps it down loudly, then sets it back on the table and looks at me. We are both still. Our eyes lock on each other, and he suddenly smiles at me.
His eyes brighten and he leans on the table, resting his forearms on the smooth marble. His shoulders convulse for a moment as he chuckles lightly. Confused, I narrow my eyes at him and lower my chin.
"What are you laughing at?" I ask, somewhat bitter that his mood has cheered while mine remains the same.
Without speaking, he leans forward and reaches out a hand to my face. He rests his fingers on my cheek, and the pad of his thumb grazes the valley between my bottom lip and chin. He rubs lightly, then leans back into his chair, wiping his thumb on the edge of a napkin.
"You had some rice on your chin," he says softly, a charming smile on his face. He drapes an arm over the back of his chair.
And as I look at him, I remember that I saw him once like he is now. So relaxed, so nonchalant. At the tavern, when I first dared to approach him and touch him-that's when I saw him like this. Oh gods, that first touch. How warm his stomach was, how smooth.
As I look at him, seeing his unabashed face, his beaming smile, his arcane eyes, his entire demeanor of obscurity somehow mixed with brilliance, I realize that the last thing we need is words. Words cannot dictate the language of the soul. We above all people should know this. And yet here I am, so desperate for spoken words, so hung on the idea that love will die without communication so complex I must struggle to understand it. So complex that I must use my brain instead of my heart to decipher a meaning. But he knows better. I look at him now and realize that he knows better than to put trust in words. And I am ashamed of myself yet again for allowing myself to be the fool.
But I cannot linger on my self-loathing long, for suddenly he is standing and rummaging through the pockets of his black overcoat that lies sprawled on the bed. I watch him with interest as he plunges his hand into a pocket and retracts it with a curse when not finding what he is looking for. Finally, he pulls a small wooden box from an obscure pocket and wraps it in his hands as if thinking he can hide it from me.
He turns around and walks back to me, the box clenched tightly between his palms as if he thinks it could slip away any moment. I smile and look up at him when he reaches my side and holds the little box out to me.
"I wanted to give this to you last night at the tavern...but all that shit happened, so I never got the chance," he tells me, half-frowning, half- grinning.
I take the box from him and turn it over in my hands, enjoying the feel of the smooth wood and admiring the finely drawn etchings of a beautiful little water lily on the lid. Even if it was empty, I would have been content to have the box itself simply for its beautiful craftsmanship.
I undo the tiny metal clasp on the front of the box and lift the lid, gasping at what is inside.
"Do you not like them?" he asks immediately upon hearing my reaction, thinking it was a gasp of disgust.
I tentively place my first two fingers inside and gently caress Tasuki's gift to me. Two beaded earrings, identical to the ones that he wears, lie inside the box, gleaming brightly in the light given off by the fire burning in the hearth beside us. Two circular red orbs sit on top of an oval-shaped blue orb dangling from a golden ring.
"Oh no, Tasuki," I whisper, "No, I adore them. But..." I lift my face quickly to glance at his own ears, making sure that he didn't give me his own earrings. "Oh good, I though you had sacrificed your own."
" I wouldn't give you used jewelry," he protests, pretending to be insulted.
I smile at his comment and roll my eyes. "That's not what I meant. I meant to say that I'm glad you didn't give up yours. I'm glad that we each have our own pair."
I reach my hands to my ears and remove the simple onyx studs that Koi gave me a year ago. Tasuki takes one of the beaded earrings from the wooden box, brushes my hair back with his fingertips, and slips the golden ring through my ear. Out of habit, I move my face toward the warmth of his hands, liking the feel of them tangled in my hair. He takes the earring's mate and slips it through my other ear, being just as gentle and warm. And when he is done, I shake my head giddily to feel the dangling beads brushing against my jaw.
"Thank you," I say, reaching my hands up to touch the earrings.
"They'll keep us connected," he tells me, leaning over me to kiss the crown of my head, "They'll make us think of each other at the times we need to."
I smile sadly. He and I both know how true that is, and how much we will need these tiny pieces of jewelry. They'll end up being our saviors, our confidants. And what is so strange about them is the two emotions that they seem to represent for us. The blue is a token of our sorrow and adversities; the red of our passion and love. And the gold ring represents the bind that holds the two together; for without difficulties, love cannot be seen in its true magnificence. How beautifully ironic that such tiny, seemingly unimportant things could be an emblem of us.
"I've been thinking, Tansho," he says, suddenly moving away from me and sitting down in his chair again. "You don't want to leave the tavern for fear of the other women, right?" I nod slowly. "Well, I think I've figured out a way for you to stay at the tavern with them safely until I get back from Hokkan."
I urge him on with my eyes, too afraid to tell him that no one is safe at the Black Dove.
"I'll speak with the emperor and ask him to send men to the tavern every now and then to check on you and the others," he continues, "Shingen won't dare harm you or the others by order of the emperor. I'll make sure he faces death otherwise."
I don't know what to do or say. I am exhilarated beyond imagination that Tasuki has devised a way to keep me and the others safe without any of us having to leave each other, but I wonder how Shingen will react to this blatant slap in his face. I realize I don't care. With the emperor's order and the threat of execution hanging over his head, I am sure that Shingen will not dare go against this.
I look up at Tasuki, who seems worried that I haven't spoken yet.
"Thank you," I whisper. I can feel the tears flooding behind my eyelids, but I refuse to cry. "Thank you," I repeat, my voice daring to be a bit louder this time.
All he does is smile sadly at me, as if nothing but the sound of my voice will ever again make him happy. We both get up from our chairs at the same moment and fall into each other as we have done so many times before. But this time there is so much sorrow mixed with happiness that neither of us know which emotion to choose. We just cling to each other, both of us close to weeping but refusing to. I rest my cheek on his chest, sealing my ear over his heart so that I can hear his blood pumping through his body. And he wraps his arms around my back, squeezing me so tightly that I must struggle to breathe. But I don't even notice the crushing of his arms around me, because at least I am touching him. At least we are connected with these identical earrings that dangle from our earlobes. At least I can hear his heart beating inside of him one last time. At least we get one more moment alone; for suddenly there is a fist knocking on Tasuki's door, startling us out of our embrace, and we both know that the time we have dreaded has come. It is time for Tasuki to leave.
A/N: Ah, finally...Tasuki's big day has arrived, and he and Tansho are gonna have to say goodbye. *sniff sniff* Or are they?? ^_^ Come back soon for the new chapter!! (I think I'll be nice and wait only a day or so before posting it, since I know some of my old readers are anxious to finally see the continuation of "Tansho").
A/N: Ok, I think this is the last chapter I got posted on FF before hell ascended from the pits of the earth and FF deleted my account. I'm pretty sure! So I guess that means the brand spankin' new chapter in coming up next!!!! ^_^
Chapter 28 Blue and Red, Sorrow and Love
We eat in silence, and I hate him and myself for it. We should be speaking to each other, expressing anything and everything that comes into our heads, not caring what it is. But no, we sit in silence and emptiness as if waiting for our deaths.
I halt my chopsticks just long enough to look up at him. He hasn't bothered to smooth his unruly hair or tuck his cotton shirt into his trousers. He's leaning close to the table, a bowl of rice tilted toward his mouth, his chopsticks working vigorously to shovel his mouth full. Satisfied that there is no more left in the small bowl, he returns it to the table and drags the back of his hand over his mouth. He reaches for his tea and gulps it down loudly, then sets it back on the table and looks at me. We are both still. Our eyes lock on each other, and he suddenly smiles at me.
His eyes brighten and he leans on the table, resting his forearms on the smooth marble. His shoulders convulse for a moment as he chuckles lightly. Confused, I narrow my eyes at him and lower my chin.
"What are you laughing at?" I ask, somewhat bitter that his mood has cheered while mine remains the same.
Without speaking, he leans forward and reaches out a hand to my face. He rests his fingers on my cheek, and the pad of his thumb grazes the valley between my bottom lip and chin. He rubs lightly, then leans back into his chair, wiping his thumb on the edge of a napkin.
"You had some rice on your chin," he says softly, a charming smile on his face. He drapes an arm over the back of his chair.
And as I look at him, I remember that I saw him once like he is now. So relaxed, so nonchalant. At the tavern, when I first dared to approach him and touch him-that's when I saw him like this. Oh gods, that first touch. How warm his stomach was, how smooth.
As I look at him, seeing his unabashed face, his beaming smile, his arcane eyes, his entire demeanor of obscurity somehow mixed with brilliance, I realize that the last thing we need is words. Words cannot dictate the language of the soul. We above all people should know this. And yet here I am, so desperate for spoken words, so hung on the idea that love will die without communication so complex I must struggle to understand it. So complex that I must use my brain instead of my heart to decipher a meaning. But he knows better. I look at him now and realize that he knows better than to put trust in words. And I am ashamed of myself yet again for allowing myself to be the fool.
But I cannot linger on my self-loathing long, for suddenly he is standing and rummaging through the pockets of his black overcoat that lies sprawled on the bed. I watch him with interest as he plunges his hand into a pocket and retracts it with a curse when not finding what he is looking for. Finally, he pulls a small wooden box from an obscure pocket and wraps it in his hands as if thinking he can hide it from me.
He turns around and walks back to me, the box clenched tightly between his palms as if he thinks it could slip away any moment. I smile and look up at him when he reaches my side and holds the little box out to me.
"I wanted to give this to you last night at the tavern...but all that shit happened, so I never got the chance," he tells me, half-frowning, half- grinning.
I take the box from him and turn it over in my hands, enjoying the feel of the smooth wood and admiring the finely drawn etchings of a beautiful little water lily on the lid. Even if it was empty, I would have been content to have the box itself simply for its beautiful craftsmanship.
I undo the tiny metal clasp on the front of the box and lift the lid, gasping at what is inside.
"Do you not like them?" he asks immediately upon hearing my reaction, thinking it was a gasp of disgust.
I tentively place my first two fingers inside and gently caress Tasuki's gift to me. Two beaded earrings, identical to the ones that he wears, lie inside the box, gleaming brightly in the light given off by the fire burning in the hearth beside us. Two circular red orbs sit on top of an oval-shaped blue orb dangling from a golden ring.
"Oh no, Tasuki," I whisper, "No, I adore them. But..." I lift my face quickly to glance at his own ears, making sure that he didn't give me his own earrings. "Oh good, I though you had sacrificed your own."
" I wouldn't give you used jewelry," he protests, pretending to be insulted.
I smile at his comment and roll my eyes. "That's not what I meant. I meant to say that I'm glad you didn't give up yours. I'm glad that we each have our own pair."
I reach my hands to my ears and remove the simple onyx studs that Koi gave me a year ago. Tasuki takes one of the beaded earrings from the wooden box, brushes my hair back with his fingertips, and slips the golden ring through my ear. Out of habit, I move my face toward the warmth of his hands, liking the feel of them tangled in my hair. He takes the earring's mate and slips it through my other ear, being just as gentle and warm. And when he is done, I shake my head giddily to feel the dangling beads brushing against my jaw.
"Thank you," I say, reaching my hands up to touch the earrings.
"They'll keep us connected," he tells me, leaning over me to kiss the crown of my head, "They'll make us think of each other at the times we need to."
I smile sadly. He and I both know how true that is, and how much we will need these tiny pieces of jewelry. They'll end up being our saviors, our confidants. And what is so strange about them is the two emotions that they seem to represent for us. The blue is a token of our sorrow and adversities; the red of our passion and love. And the gold ring represents the bind that holds the two together; for without difficulties, love cannot be seen in its true magnificence. How beautifully ironic that such tiny, seemingly unimportant things could be an emblem of us.
"I've been thinking, Tansho," he says, suddenly moving away from me and sitting down in his chair again. "You don't want to leave the tavern for fear of the other women, right?" I nod slowly. "Well, I think I've figured out a way for you to stay at the tavern with them safely until I get back from Hokkan."
I urge him on with my eyes, too afraid to tell him that no one is safe at the Black Dove.
"I'll speak with the emperor and ask him to send men to the tavern every now and then to check on you and the others," he continues, "Shingen won't dare harm you or the others by order of the emperor. I'll make sure he faces death otherwise."
I don't know what to do or say. I am exhilarated beyond imagination that Tasuki has devised a way to keep me and the others safe without any of us having to leave each other, but I wonder how Shingen will react to this blatant slap in his face. I realize I don't care. With the emperor's order and the threat of execution hanging over his head, I am sure that Shingen will not dare go against this.
I look up at Tasuki, who seems worried that I haven't spoken yet.
"Thank you," I whisper. I can feel the tears flooding behind my eyelids, but I refuse to cry. "Thank you," I repeat, my voice daring to be a bit louder this time.
All he does is smile sadly at me, as if nothing but the sound of my voice will ever again make him happy. We both get up from our chairs at the same moment and fall into each other as we have done so many times before. But this time there is so much sorrow mixed with happiness that neither of us know which emotion to choose. We just cling to each other, both of us close to weeping but refusing to. I rest my cheek on his chest, sealing my ear over his heart so that I can hear his blood pumping through his body. And he wraps his arms around my back, squeezing me so tightly that I must struggle to breathe. But I don't even notice the crushing of his arms around me, because at least I am touching him. At least we are connected with these identical earrings that dangle from our earlobes. At least I can hear his heart beating inside of him one last time. At least we get one more moment alone; for suddenly there is a fist knocking on Tasuki's door, startling us out of our embrace, and we both know that the time we have dreaded has come. It is time for Tasuki to leave.
A/N: Ah, finally...Tasuki's big day has arrived, and he and Tansho are gonna have to say goodbye. *sniff sniff* Or are they?? ^_^ Come back soon for the new chapter!! (I think I'll be nice and wait only a day or so before posting it, since I know some of my old readers are anxious to finally see the continuation of "Tansho").