Disclaimer and Warnings: See chapter 1.
New Year's Eve - 11:00 pm - Sohma Main House
Ten places were set in the Sohma Hall, for the ten Juunishi expected to attend, and almost all seats were filled upon the eleven chimes of the clock in the outside hall.
Hatori sat on one far end of the long table, followed by Shigure, Ayame, Yuki, Kyo, Hatsuharu, Momiji, Kisa, and Hiro. An empty cushion sat between Ayame and Yuki, the place for the one who would be performing this evening.
For one of the few times in his life, Sohma Ayame, the snake, sat quietly and sipped his tea, listening to Shigure babble on about the new idea he had for a novel. Holding the teacup with both hands, lips still on the rim, Ayame surveyed the room with his gold eyes, taking in the new, strange atmosphere.
Everyone was just so... different. And he had no doubt it was because of the lack of Akito-san.
Down at the far end of the table Kisa and Hiro talked softly to one another, both faces bright, alive, and happy. The two youngest had grown much in these past few years, becoming closer than they were as children. Closer to Ayame, Yuki and Momiji looked on as Kyo and Haru argued over something that was impossible to distinguish at this point. Of the young men, it was Momiji who had changed most dramatically, the others had retained the same angled, attractive features they had in their teens, only now accentuated by some level of maturity. Momiji, on the other hand, had matured into a fine specimen of masculine beauty - he had finally adopted a clothing style more to his age group and had even grown his hair down to his shoulder blades, which he sat braiding into a single tail as Haru and Kyo bickered next to him. Yuki simply watched on with an amused smile.
It was perhaps Yuki's smile that really indicated how the Sohmas changed when no longer in the presence of Akito, and Ayame was saddened and heartened by such a fact. Perhaps tonight he could talk to his brother and they could learn more about one another. Then again, the intensity with which Yuki was watching Kyo indicated that he had plans for little other than Kyo to be the object of his attention this evening.
Ayame smiled at this, finally setting his cup of tea down. He had always noticed the tension between the two of them and now perhaps they were going to face it. It looked like Yuki already had.
"Aya-kun?" Shigure's bright voice shook Ayame from his musings. "You're so quiet!! Are you feeling okay?" Shigure put on a dramatic worried face and put the back of his hand to Ayame's forehead.
The snake swatted the hand away and smiled coyly. "Ah, Gure-kun, you know that I will always feel ill when I am even but inches from you..." Ayame made a wide gesture with his arms and grinned, looking from Shigure to Hatori. "...to not be in your embrace." He swooned again. Shigure giggled, Hatori only rolled his eyes.
"Ah, this I understand, Aya-kun..." Shigure continued the dramatics, leaning over onto Hatori's shoulder and clutching at his heart, pining in overdramatic sadness. "Even now, we are so close to one another and yet we cannot be together!" Both Ayame and Shigure sighed pointedly, Ayame batting his lashes at the dog while Shigure wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"Oh will you two give it up?" Hatori scolded, even though a smile had found its way to his lips. He shoved Shigure over with a jerk of his shoulder.
Ayame laughed. "Is that jealousy that I hear?" Not waiting for an answer he reached across Shigure and took one of Hatori's hands in his and brought the hand to his lips. "Oh, Ha-kun, no one else could fill the space you have claimed within my heart..." Shigure sniggered between them.
Wrenching his hand away, Hatori narrowed his eyes at his silver-haired cousin, trying to cover his amusement at such antics and failing rather miserably. Ayame and Shigure both laughed happily, sitting back in their seats and reveling in the old feeling of camaraderie.
Their laughter was just dying down when the door to the room slid slowly open, and the Sohma who came to welcome in the Year of the Monkey entered the room meekly, followed shortly by a small woman with a shamisan.
Everyone went silent as Ritsu, easily the most shy of all the Sohma clan, took soft steps onto the small platform in the middle of the room, looking at the floor the whole time. The shamisan player sat to the left of the platform, half in the shadows. There was a pause, and everyone watched intently, waiting for Ritsu to move.
He wore the long kimono and adornments common to all who did the dance at New Year's, his dirty blonde hair tied back in an elegant, high ponytail. When he raised his head his eyes were closed and he swallowed noticeably, and it wasn't a great leap to assume he was pretty nervous.
Ayame couldn't help but smirk at the small motion, watching Ritsu's adam's apple bob softly under the pale skin. Ritsu was probably one of the more secretive of the Juunishi, keeping to himself and his home at the onsen with his mother and father.
There were many stories about Ritsu which traveled among the Sohmas, but it couldn't really be known which were true. Many said that he acted a lot like his mother and father, apologizing over everything and constantly taking blame. They also said that he wasn't a child to be proud of, that he had no special talents or skills, that he wasn't athletic or a genius, that he wasn't even overly average. And the strange boy wore women's clothing, supposedly a constant embarrassment to his parents and the rest of the Sohmas.
The first pluck of the shamisan took Ayame out of his internal ramblings and turned his attention to the front of the room where Ritsu had started to dance.
Eyes still closed, the blonde-haired man moved precisely and gracefully, slowly and with purpose, to the wafting melody of the music. This, Ayame mused to himself, must have been what the best geisha looked like dancing to entertain the highest ranked officials back in the heyday of Kyoto.
The dance was nothing spectacular visually, rather simple, even average, one might say, and Ayame found himself getting slightly restless. To counter this Ayame amused his ever-wandering mind with trying to make up a story to the dance and music.
First it was a young girl, playing in a field with flowers. No, not pretty or young enough. Then, it was young boys at a festival in summer. No, that still didn't seem right, too much spunk. Memories of a lost friend? No, the dance wasn't nostalgic at all. Maybe it was the story of a peasant rising to be emperor. No, the music was far too depressing. What about a journey across Japan? No, too slow and airy to be traveling. What about...
And then it hit Ayame with a ton of bricks... unrequited love. At first he thought the idea too dramatic and romantic, but as he watched Ritsu dance, the expression on the younger man's face as he felt the music... it could be nothing other than about love. Suddenly curious, Ayame watched Ritsu with a more discerning eye, catching subtle movements and changes in expression and indication of emotion that he might not have seen otherwise. Ritsu was passionate about the dance, even as it seemed so ordinary, and there was meaning in the movements because he meant them to be significant. All in all, it was actually a quite skilled manipulation of dance to convey specific emotions without words or dramatic movements or frenzied motion.
There was soon no doubt in Ayame's mind that Ritsu knew such emotions from experience. He danced the story all too well to not personally know how it is to go through the normal paces of one's day and be unable to show emotion for something or someone. Ayame's eyes slid from the front of the room to Hatori and then back. He sighed.
Yes, Ritsu must have known the sting of unrequited love, just as Ayame did. But no one deserved such pain. Perhaps Ayame could talk to Ritsu later in the evening, tell him that he sympathized - maybe there was something he could do to help the younger Sohma.