Title: The Reality of a Smile
Disclaimer: All my Base are belong to Watsuki. (:
Author's Note: Written as a Christmas fic that turned out to be just slightly darker than I had originally intended.
She could never tell if his smiles were real.
He always smiled. Never, ever, ever stopped. She didn't generally pay him much heed, but on occasion his mannerisms - everything about him - they bothered her.
No child, no boy who looked so heart achingly innocent, should be so utterly unfeeling, so cold and evil. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, behind those wide eyes and childlike smile. His motives, she couldn't comprehend. Why would he be so loyal? He certainly didn't love her Shishio-sama (she was sure he wasn't truly capable of love), he desired nothing, asked for nothing, and did as he was told with no thought of reward. He was inexplicable and baffling, and being around him made her infinitely uncomfortable.
But her Shishio-sama, who was heat and flame and passion, she would give her all to be near. She could take one look into his piercing eyes and tell exactly what he wanted; he wanted power, he wanted revenge. He was a comforting anchor against all that was chaotic and uncertain in the world. He never made her guess.
But when he mentioned to her in passing, one day, that in the Western world it would soon be a time that they celebrated one of their gods' births (Jesus, he'd said, was the name of the particular god), and as a custom, they would give their families gifts wrapped in paper and placed under a tree that they had cut down and placed inside their home.
She had thought that perhaps it might be nice to present his protégé with a gift. After all, the boy certainly didn't have any family of his own.
So after she'd struggled with the "wrapping paper" (flimsy and decorated paper, made to look like a painting but with a glossy finish on the top) for nearly 10 minutes, she finally figured out how to properly fold it around a small box full of the sweet buns that the boy seemed to like. Beckoning him under a barren Sakura tree - stripped of blossoms and leaves by the harsh winter cold - she shoved the parcel in his face. It wasn't a 'Christmas' tree (whatever that was), but it'd have to do.
He blinked at her, wide-eyed and childlike in a way that nearly made her shudder. She'd seen what horrors he was capable of… should a boy who could do such things really look so harmless?
"Shishio-sama said it was a Western tradition. Just open it." Her voice was caustic, she knew, in contrast to what she discerned to be the supposedly jovial holiday, but it didn't seem to deter the Tenken in the least.
As soon as he'd figured out how to rip it open, his lips were turned upwards with simple enchantment and joy and the pleasantly fragranced gift.
It was a real smile.
Fin.