Yami no Matsuei fairy tale, part 3
By Sakura no Miko
Summary: This is yet another chapter of an odd little idea that popped into my head. It's a continuation of my "Sleeping Beauty" with Yami no Matsuei characters, mostly concerning Tatsumi's past.
Disclaimer: Anyone who thinks I own Yami no Matsuei, or would make a profit off of it, needs to see a doctor. Quickly.
Warnings: This is…an extended epilogue of my dark fairy tale, following even more of Tsuzuki and Tatsumi's relationship. I was hoping this part would be less dark, but a few ideas crept in… Again, there's shounen ai/yaoi/'hot guys doing hot things to each other,' of the Tatsumi/Tsuzuki variety.
Finally: How did I let myself get talked into this? I must be getting soft from all the wonderful reviews. So, I'm going to conveniently forget that part 2 was supposed to be the epilogue (it kinda…grew), and give it another shot. I'll honor your requests for answers, continuation, and more Tat/Tsu fluffiness!
I have at least two—count 'em, two chapters—coming up (this one and a fourth, maybe even a fifth). I will finally reveal the horrible, terrifying truth of Tatsumi's past! However, I must give one warning: The hard part with writing up Tatsumi's past, at least as I've conceived it, is making it fit with the original characterization I gave him in parts 1 and 2. sighs I meant this to be a simple, normal fairy tale…
Oh, and one last thing—as will become apparent later, neither Tsuzuki nor Tatsumi really know about Tsuzuki's past, or why he ended up in the tower in the first place.
And so a happy ending was reached, at least for those concerned. Asato Tsuzuki, the once-prince of Chikyuu, was freed from his cursed sleep, his tormenter and torment finally laid to rest, for, with Muraki destroyed and Tsuzuki's own darkness turned to light, he was freer and happier than ever before in his life.
Both developments came from the simple but strong hand of Seiichirou Tatsumi, a man sworn to the duties of Meifuu under the service of his Count. It was here that he and his companion-turned-beloved, Tsuzuki, were now returning.
Which would mean, certainly, that their tale is done. If only life were so simple. For you see, though the future may be assured, the ghosts of the past never rest…
The sun shone brighter than ever, it seemed. And was it him, or had the woodlands grown lusher? The water seemed so clear, so crisp to his lips, and the soft bit of the apple Tatsumi had picked easily from a tree was sweeter than he'd ever known such fruit to taste.
Of course, that last bit might have been because of the sweet kiss Tatsumi had drawn him into as they shared the apple. Tsuzuki had decided resolutely that Tatsumi was the best taste in the world, so of course a Tatsumi-flavored apple would taste better than a plain one. Tsuzuki nodded to himself as he pieced the changes together. They were an entire day behind….through no fault of their own, of course. It was just too easy to find distractions on this particular pathway.
There was, of course, the little waterfall, tucked neatly away in the deep of the forest, where they'd stopped for a drink. The water was so cool and clean, not quite large enough to swim in, but perfect to splash, just a little.
Then the cliff, as they began to head more into the valley country. There was such a wonderful view, and Tatsumi had sworn that they could see the smoke rising from Meifuu from it. Tsuzuki did see something dark, but when he tried to get closer, he slipped…a little. Tatsumi had caught him, like he always did, and he hadn't been that close to the edge anyway. He couldn't help it that Tatsumi wouldn't let go, or that he didn't feel particularly inclined to move.
Oh, and there was the little lengthening of their rests. All the strange sounds and sights didn't help Tsuzuki sleep. Tatsumi would stay up with him until he finally drifted off into the welcoming shadows of deep sleep, and by morning—having already slept in far longer than needed—he was reluctant to give up his hard-earned, and very comfortable, resting place. Since he'd also decided that Tatsumi's lap was the most comfortable resting place in the world, and Tatsumi had apparently decided that he was the best thing in the world to have in his lap, they tended to start out a bit later than usual.
They were really just little delays. Things that might make you arrive after dark, perhaps as the stars began to peek out, instead of at suppertime. It must have taken dozens of these distractions to make them miss an entire day. Tsuzuki tried to remember exactly how many times they stopped, but he only succeeded in making himself feel a bit too warm, and a little dizzy. He gripped the reins a little too tightly, though the beast beneath him paid no heed.
His eyes drifted in Tatsumi's direction, and he felt very, very warm suddenly. A smile filled up Tsuzuki's face. Well, they were already late. One more little stop couldn't hurt, now could it?
The night was strangely black. It was new moon already. The only steady sound Tatsumi could hear was the soft, steady breathing of his companion, who had, as usual, snuggled up close, using Tatsumi's cloak as a blanket. Tatsumi smiled, remembering Tsuzuki's sweet sigh as he buried himself into Tatsumi's arms, pinned with gentlest care between a warm body and cloak. He really loved Tatsumi's cloak, though it was far too large for his small frame. It was as if he was a child, play-acting in his father's clothes. Utterly adorable, Tatsumi thought.
He absently stroked Tsuzuki's hair. Despite how calm he seemed, he was nervous. It was one thing to be two unknown men, in a secluded inn room, in a faraway kingdom. It was another thing entirely to be returning home. It was silly. What did he have to be nervous about? And yet…
'Mother…' he whispered in his mind. What would she say? She'd been so kind to him, taking him into her home after…after… He still didn't want to think about it. She'd been old then, and was even older now. To take in such a young, frightened boy… He truly admired his adoptive mother, for that. She was already widowed, childless, and…she must have wondered it, just like everyone else.
Why he'd survived that night, when all the rest of his family died.
But she never asked, and whenever the crueler neighbors had questioned him, she rushed to his defense. She was never frightened of him, not even when he showed her the shadows. She was the one who held him as he explained, for the first time, all the guilt and pain he kept within him. She never flinched when he hurt her…or when she was hurt for him.
She was the only person who ever made him happy.
"Seiichirou…? Why're you…still awake?" Tsuzuki blinked sleepily up at him, as if he could sense the sudden outburst of dark thoughts.
"I…" Tatsumi paused. He wanted…but it hurt so much…
"S-sei…you're…" Tsuzuki's voice faltered. The soft hand was hesitant, reaching up to caress a cheek, then more sure as it encountered something wet and warm. "Seiichirou, what's wrong? You're crying…" The boy let out a soft yelp as he was dragged into a tight embrace. He found his bearings quickly, and wrapped his arms clumsily around the older man. "Oh, Sei," he murmured, knowing all-too-well the signs of pain. His mind strained to remember all the little things, the sweet touches and words that had led him back from his own darkness.
Tatsumi hadn't even realized that a few tears had escaped him. The sudden urge to just stay there, crying, almost overwhelmed him. Tsuzuki pulled him close, stroking his hair and cooing to him softly, as if he were a child. A brief shock wracked Tatsumi's mind as he realized that he'd always treated Tsuzuki in the exact same way. Like a child. Did Tsuzuki always feel so weak, so helpless as Tatsumi was feeling now? How could he stand it?
And yet it felt so good, so terribly good. The warmth, the overwhelming sense of being taken care of, of not being needed to do anything but accept…was overpowering, unstoppable bliss. A wave of joy, a wave of guilt, crashing into each other like tidal wave. And Tsuzuki just cradled him tighter, his words softer, quicker, more soothing to Tatsumi's guilt-ridden mind.
He'd thought of the past—thought of it every waking moment—full of guilt and pain and vengeance. It had settled from pain to a dull whisper in the back of his mind, a whisper he had all but forgotten this past year. Forgotten…? How…how could he have forgotten? He clung—yes, clung, as if his life depended on it—to his love's slender frame, trying to speak, to explain himself.
"Seiichirou," he heard. "Shh, Seiichirou, just…just calm down. I'm here. It's alright." Those slender, quick fingers, tangled in his hair, so painfully familiar. Tsuzuki's face seemed to shift, from his own sympathetic violet eyes, to the sweet blue eyes of his mother…and, to his horror…the slightest flash of silver between them.
His chest tightened. No, no, his mind moaned. He was over this, it didn't affect him anymore… "Tsuzuki!" he burst out, but it was only a whisper. No, not him. Not that time. No, no, he was here, with Tsuzuki, here and now and…safe. "Tsuzuki… Tsuzuki…" he murmured, the sudden panic ebbing. His breaths were deep, harsh. He felt hot, sweat coursing down his temple. A waking nightmare.
He realized that Tsuzuki was still holding him. The boy's breaths were as heavy as his own. His eyes fluttered, like he was only just waking up, but they settled on Tatsumi's face with a startling intensity and clarity. Tatsumi opened his mouth, to explain, to try to…to…but Tsuzuki smiled as if nothing were wrong. "If you want to talk…" he whispered softly, offering Tatsumi his shoulder. 'Or if you want silence,' he added wordlessly with the action.
"Someday," Tatsumi heard himself say, as he leaned forward. Ah, Tsuzuki was so sweet, so soft and yielding. He broke away much more quickly then he wanted to. "I promise," he said, to himself and to Tsuzuki. He'd have to tell Tsuzuki someday; there shouldn't be any secrets between them, not when they were so close, but… He'd never even let himself touch the memories. He had to control himself, he had to.
"Can you sleep?" Tsuzuki's voice again, so sweet. He brushed the hair from Tatsumi's face. "We need to sleep. I'll hold you, Seiichirou." He blushed ever so slightly. "If you want me to."
"I…" His voice failed him again. "I think…." Surrendering, Tatsumi wordlessly drew Tsuzuki into his arms. "Like this…please…" Tatsumi cringed at the weakness in his voice, but he was already feeling better with Tsuzuki's soft body cradled against his chest. The prince nodded, and almost immediately went back into slumber. Tatsumi wiped the few tears left from his eyes and tucked his face into Tsuzuki's shoulder, breathing deeply, feeling the weight of the smaller form and the familiar warmth before drifting into a strangely peaceful sleep.
Tsuzuki awoke early, a rarity for him. He tried not to move too much, realizing that Tatsumi was still asleep. It was no surprise, really. Tsuzuki remembered, suddenly, a long-ago night when he had awoke to the pitiful sobs of a dreamer stuck in a terrible nightmare. He'd never questioned that Tatsumi had some sort of pain in his past. There were…signs, little things that stuck in his mind. Things that reminded him of himself.
He was ashamed to admit it, but…he actually enjoyed it, somewhat. Not that Tatsumi was hurting—and he was definitely hurting over something—but that he was showing himself in such a...a vulnerable way. Tsuzuki truthfully admitted to himself that he felt a strange longing as he held Tatsumi for the first time. He wanted to pull out all of Tatsumi's pain and sadness and take it into himself instead. He wanted to do all the little things that would make Tatsumi feel warm and safe with him, because it made him feel warm and safe too. His heart ached in sympathy when he saw Tatsumi's tears—ached in a way he'd never felt before.
Words couldn't convey it… Could it have been only days ago that he was trying to understand Tatsumi's slow, stumbling voice explain this emotion to him? It felt like a lifetime ago.
The thick beat of Tatsumi's heart felt wonderful to his ears. Tatsumi was so strong—his breathing, his heart, his arms. His newfound weakness made him seem suddenly fragile, suddenly so small and needy. Tsuzuki found himself questioning his own strength. He couldn't even handle his own problems—how could he ever help Tatsumi? An unwanted memory of his own method of 'dealing' flashed in his mind—that strange voice, urging him to use the beautiful, broken vase for some other, darker purpose. He wanted to stop, cried against his own body, against the past he couldn't change, but the shard moved closer and closer to his pale, tender skin and—!
It wasn't his own face he saw in the shard's reflection, but Tatsumi's.
He let out a soft yelp. 'No, no, no!' his mind screamed. Almost bitterly, he made himself remember that Tatsumi would never do such a thing. Tatsumi had so many friends, and he had a loving family back home—he had things to return to. He would never, ever… What could he ever know about being all alone, about being hated by everyone, hopeless, worthless…?
Tsuzuki stopped the train of thought. That wasn't true anymore. Tatsumi had told him so, over and over again, with words and actions and just being there. He sighed, smiling again. He loved Tatsumi so much. Tatsumi was warm and happy and strong, even when he was thinking of terrible things.
Oh… Tsuzuki blinked. The sun was up already. As much as he loved just laying there, he was really starting to want to see Tatsumi's home. He gently poked his love in the ribs. Ah, Tatsumi was so peaceful; it was a shame to disturb him. If he hadn't seen Tatsumi's state last night, he'd have never known anything was wrong. Another poke. Tatsumi groaned a little, his eyes opening, and quickly shutting.
"Good morning, Seiichirou!" Tsuzuki beamed. He affectionately kissed Tatsumi on the mouth, an action he found Tatsumi enjoyed very much. Tatsumi, strangely enough, wasn't much of a morning person until he'd had something to drink. Tsuzuki was always forgetting what it was called. He didn't like the bitter stuff, so he ignored it completely. "I want to see your home," he murmured, pulling back. "We're almost there, right?"
"Yes," Tatsumi said, a little too quietly. Tsuzuki looked at him with concern, suddenly. It was the same look he'd seen the night before. He shook his head faintly. "Soon, Tsuzuki, I promise."
The words from the previous evening resonated in Tsuzuki's head as he took in Tatsumi's reply. He nodded. Four simple words were all that remained of the raw emotion that Tatsumi had shown him, emotions that Tsuzuki hadn't even known he possessed.
Tatsumi was positive that smiling for as long as he had must have some type of permanent effect on his face. Tsuzuki was practically floating as he looked at all the different houses and buildings. Compared to Tenkuu, Meifuu was practically two kingdoms. It was also far busier. Meifuu was the heart of the world, or so it often seemed. Tatsumi found the mixture of peoples and cultures to be jarring, but Tsuzuki was trying to leap in every direction at once—a strange new food here, an exotically-garbed group of travelers there, and farther still, the remains of an old and still magnificent building.
Finally, Tatsumi leaned over and took Tsuzuki's hand with him, gently but firmly leading him towards the outskirts of the town. He caught sight of the Count's home and winced slightly. There was going to be so much work when he returned! Seiichirou Tatsumi, who had never taken a day of vacation in his entire career, suddenly disappearing for an entire year! What would his colleagues say?
His eyes swept over the road before them. Only a year, but there were already changes. He certainly didn't remember having so many houses in this area before. The noise was…distasteful, to say the least. On the other hand, perhaps it was better to not be so secluded anymore, especially with his mother gaining more years. 'Ah, there it is,' his mind reminded him softly. Some things would never change.
"Asato—do you see the house over there?" Pointing directly ahead, Tatsumi guided his prince's eyes to a small cottage, crafted of grey stone and wood. It was nowhere near the splendor of the great Castle of Chikyuu, nor was it small enough to be cramped for a family. All around it were flowers and trees, and a little pond to the side. It seemed as if everything was in bloom, in some shape or form, some bright color or sweet scent. As if to make the dwelling absolutely perfect, it was planted firmly upon the last bit of level land before the land sloped down to the sea, giving it the stunning background of the sunlit ocean.
"It…it's beautiful," Tsuzuki said softly. "Whose home is it…?
"My mother lives here now," Tatsumi said softly. "The house…my family used to come here for the summer."
Tsuzuki suddenly sniffed at the air. "I'm so hungry!" he moaned pitifully, making puppy eyes at Tatsumi.
"Don't worry. My mother is an excellent cook."
"That makes me even hungrier!"
Tatsumi chuckled, stepping to the ground lightly. He extended a hand to help his prince down, and suddenly found himself with an armful of a very happy, very energetic Tsuzuki. Before he could blink, he was on the receiving end of a warm, soft Tsuzuki-kiss. The simple, yet truly affectionate gesture filled him with so many feelings—strength and hope, warmth and peace, and the understanding, deep in his heart, that everything would be right in the end.
"Seiichirou…"
'That…was not Asato's voice,' was the first thing Tatsumi thought. No, that sweet, feminine, and overly calm voice was one he would have recognized anywhere. And yet, for as much as he had wanted to see her…Tatsumi would really have not chosen this particular moment to see his mother again.
Tsuzuki felt Tatsumi stiffen when that voice called out his name. His response, first and foremost, was to blink. Once he was sure that he had heard a voice—you really couldn't tell, with all the shouting and animals and stuff around—he slowly peeked out from Tatsumi's arms, and his eyes fell on a petite, older woman with white hair and…bluish-grey eyes. Tsuzuki blinked again. He'd never seen eyes quite like that. They were sort of…dull.
His second response was a startlingly heavy wave of jealousy. She called him Seiichirou. No one else had ever dared to do such an act in his presence! He wanted to pout. Only he could call Tatsumi by his first name.
But his third reaction manages to cancel those instincts out completely. His third, and final, reaction was to blush uncontrollably, because….
"Mother," Tatsumi said tenderly, unceremoniously dropping Tsuzuki to the dirt. Well, that was somewhat his fault. Tsuzuki always found it hard to stand when he was melting into Tatsumi's arms, and he wasn't quite prepared to lose his warm support. Besides, he was currently stunned by the revelation that he was in the presence of Tatsumi's mother. And he was still a little jealous, especially when he heard Tatsumi's tone. Tatsumi only spoke to him like that. Tatsumi only used that warm, sweet voice with him! Tsuzuki really, truly wanted to pout.
"Mother, I'm sorry I've been gone so long." Now he was hugging her! Still, for a moment Tsuzuki was touched. She looked so small when Tatsumi hugged her, and so fragile. Tatsumi's mother was…kinda pretty, he conceded.
"You know I don't mind, Seiichirou," she said, smiling. "Ah, but who is your…companion?" The woman extended her hand in Tsuzuki's direction. There was something really strange about her eyes. Tsuzuki frowned, but hid it quickly. He was being rude. He gently shook her hand, surprised again by how light she seemed.
Tatsumi smiled, and Tsuzuki suddenly felt calm. "His name is Asato, Mother. Asato Tsuzuki." Tsuzuki didn't miss the affectionate note in Tatsumi's voice as he said his name. "And I would say he is more than a…'companion,' as I'm sure you know."
Tsuzuki stared as Tatsumi and his mother began to chuckle together. "There now, don't be so shy," Tatsumi's mother said gently, patting the top of Tsuzuki's hand. "My name is Ruriko. We have something in common, you and I—we're both far too attached to this stubborn fool here."
Tsuzuki couldn't hold back the fit of giggles that escaped him. He managed a quick "Sorry" to Tatsumi before collapsing into a second bout of laughter. Tatsumi wrapped an arm around him, pulling the giggling princeling close to him, and used his other arm to take hold of his mother's hand. Sighing gently, he brought both of his loved ones into the house.
Tatsumi finished the last of dinner with relish. There was nothing so good to be found anywhere as his mother's cooking. Tsuzuki had managed to eat his fill, and was now curled up against Tatsumi's shoulder, making soft, contented sleep-sounds every so often. They were sitting on a couch, and the fire was sparkling brightly. His mother had ushered them out of the kitchen while she cleaned up, despite Tatsumi's protests.
"Mother…" Tatsumi began to say as she entered the room. There were so many things he wanted to say, but none of them would form into words.
"He has a beautiful aura, Seiichirou," Ruriko murmured, leaning down to kiss Tatsumi on the forehead. She deftly pulled a chair up so she could sit and face her son. Her smile was still gentle as he remembered it to be. "You took my advice, for once. I told you to go back, and find what you were looking for."
"And I'm so happy I did," Tatsumi replied softly. He didn't want to wake Tsuzuki up, but he also found it hard to…to be so open, so loud about himself and his feelings. Whispers made it seem safer, somehow.
"Yours has changed, too."
Such a simple statement, yet it rocked Tatsumi to his core. Yet the shock was only momentary, and logic took its place. He'd heard the words before, when he was a child. He remembered, so clearly, when this strange—or so she'd seem to his childish self— woman before him had said that she understood he was in pain, that she could see it radiating from him. Her eyes had been so blue back then…before…
"Don't think such bad thoughts, Seiichirou. It hurts to watch."
"Your powers haven't waned, then," he said finally, after a moment of silence.
"No, they haven't. I never needed my eyes to see before. My powers have actually grown stronger since I—"
"Don't!" Tatsumi found himself raising his voice without thought.
"Don't what?" Ruriko could be severe, if she wanted. She'd heard her son turn away before, and it frustrated her to no end. But that wasn't the way to deal with him. "These auras have always been a part of my world, always my second sight. Why does it matter, now that they are my only sight?"
"Mother…"
She could see his pain, feel it, taste it. "Why do you blame every wrong of the world on yourself? You couldn't have stopped him, anymore than—"
"Mother!" Tatsumi's voice was sharp, almost painful to hear. "You taught me not to blame myself for things I couldn't control. But this…this one thing…this was my fault, and you know it. Even if it were your dying wish, I could not give up my guilt for letting him hurt you. He took away your sight, Mother, and you want me to not feel anything?"
Tsuzuki moaned fretfully in his sleep, but didn't wake. Tatsumi took the opportunity to turn away, and he smoothed back Tsuzuki's hair. 'Sorry,' he said in his mind, wondering if Tsuzuki could sense his apology.
"It is very beautiful," Ruriko said softly. There was simply no use. No matter how hard she prayed, or how many times she asked, he simply would not listen to her.
"I know," Tatsumi murmured without thinking.
"Do you remember what your aura looks like, Seiichirou?"
Tatsumi nodded, never taking his eyes from Tsuzuki's sleeping form. "When we first met, you said it was like a tempest, a black storm swallowing me up. You called it terrifying, a nearly unbreakable mix of so many painful emotions. But later, after I started to trust you, you said it was beginning to change."
"It did. You've always had such a unique aura."
"You said…" Tatsumi paused. "You said it was like I had shadows around me, but they were warm, friendly shadows. The same shadows I could call to me. And…you used to say that…" He trailed off, frowning.
"There was a horrible wound in your chest, right at your heart," Ruriko finished gently. "Terrible scars crossed your chest, and…there was an open wound where your heart should have been."
"Yes." Why was he suddenly afraid? Even in the years long past, he'd never been frightened of what his mother saw. He, as young as he was, understood the pain that settled deep in his chest when his thoughts wandered to darker memories. The knowledge that he was injured in that most precious part of himself affected him no more than knowing the weather, or the day's lessons—it was something he expected, something he couldn't change.
"When you came back, before…you were so agitated I could hardly see anything. I saw that storm of guilt and pain returning. But I could still see you beneath it. I saw your heart, Seiichirou, changing and changing until I wasn't sure what I saw anymore." Her son's expression was surprised; worried, even. "One moment, it was as if the wound were gone—as if it had never been there! And the next, it was there again, larger and more aching than ever. And still the next, it was as if…" She broke off, her gaze falling on the sleeping form beside her son.
"As if what?" Tatsumi dared to ask. His hand had found its way to Tsuzuki's, and he grasped it almost too tightly before realizing it.
"It was as it is now." A pause; deafening silence. A small, knowing smile appeared of Ruriko's face, and she shook her head. "Have you ever seen a wound, Tatsumi, bound back together with thread?"
"Yes," Tatsumi said, wondering what his mother could possibly mean. "I have seen how a doctor can bind an open injury with a needle, just as with a torn shirt."
"Your heart looks like that now," she whispered. "Like it's been bound together by a beautiful, shining ray of light, never to be torn apart again…" She looked steadily at her son, and said, almost affectionately, "Your…companion…has such a beautiful aura. It's as if he were radiating a pure white light, like the moon." Her eyes met his. "His heart shines brightest, full of kindness and innocence and…" She paused, but, sensing Tatsumi's distress, smiled to reassure him. "Strangely enough," she said with gentle humor, "for all the light he has, his heart is full of shadows."
"And yet you still call him a mere 'companion,'" Tatsumi said with a soft smile, a feeble attempt at meeting her good-natured tease. He couldn't say anything else, couldn't put his feelings into words. He knew he loved Tsuzuki; he knew it with every breath he took, everything he knew revolving around the boy. But…to have such cold, hard proof of his deepest emotions, open to view…it was too much. It made him feel vulnerable, laid bare to be studied and examined by the world. And yet…to know, just as deeply, that Tsuzuki truly loved him…
"It is late." Ruriko's voice sounded distant. "The Count will wish to see you soon. Perhaps you could leave Tsuzuki here? I would like to get to know him better."
Tatsumi nodded mutely. He gently picked up his sleeping love, making his way to the spare room. Once Tsuzuki was safely tucked into bed, Tatsumi impulsively returned to the living room, wondering if his mother had gone to sleep yet. Instead, he found her sitting at the window, gazing peacefully out at the sea. Tatsumi knelt down next to her, the way he always had as a child.
"Such a beautiful night, isn't it, Seiichirou?" Ruriko said softly, her blind eyes staring into the distance.
"Yes," Tatsumi replied. The crescent moon threw slender beams of moonlight onto the dark ocean, the waves crashing onto the beach with almost violent intensity. The sea of Meifuu was no tranquil oasis, but a powerful, almost constantly dangerous beast. It held such beautiful power…
"You need your rest, Seiichirou," Ruriko cut in. She moved to get up, and gently refused Tatsumi's hand. "I can still take care of myself. You should go be with your…dear companion," she added gently.
"I love you, Mother," Tatsumi said, leaning down to kiss her hand. "Thank you." He turned, unconsciously hurrying back to Tsuzuki.
Ruriko watched him, and let out a soft, girlish giggle. "Such an adorable couple," she said to herself before turning in to sleep.
Tatsumi returned to the room. He remembered that, fortunately, his bed had more than enough room for two people—an extravagance that marked his family's life all those years ago. His grandfather's shrewd business plans, compounded with the booming trade market of Meifuu back in those days, had left the Tatsumi family well off, earning them respect almost equal to the Count himself. As the older aristocratic families died off, families like his had taken their place.
It was fortunate that he had come into such wealth, because it left more than enough for his mother to live on in his frequent absences. He was gone most of the year, attending to such and such business for the Count, or work to do with the family business. But, he trusted, both affairs were safe in the hands of his trusted co-workers and assistants.
He shrugged off his jacket, but decided against changing the rest of his clothes. The soft bed, warm blankets, and sleeping Tsuzuki were just too attractive. He crawled under the blankets and sighed, wrapping an arm around Tsuzuki. The smaller man wiggled for a moment before opening his eyes, blinking in the darkness.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," Tatsumi whispered.
"I was already awake," Tsuzuki said, grinning a bit. "I…I heard you and your mother talking. I didn't mean to, but…"
"It's alright," Tatsumi replied, remembering the lecture Tsuzuki had gotten from one of the older village women when he was caught eavesdropping by accident.
"Your mom…what was she talking about? Storms and wounds and…are you hurt, Seiichirou?" Tsuzuki's voice was small, frightened, a sound Tatsumi hated. "She said that your…your heart…"
Tatsumi drew the prince into a deep hug. "No, it's not like that," he consoled. How could he explain? "Mother is like us, Asato. She can do…I mean, see, things that other people can't. What Mother sees are called auras. They're…" Tatsumi paused. "I guess you could say that she can see what's inside people. She can…see their personality, how they're feeling." Tatsumi paused again, at a loss. A sudden idea struck him, and he continued, "When Mother was saying that my aura was a storm, she was talking about…about a very long time ago. I…I..."
Tsuzuki was listening attentively, trying to understand what Tatsumi was explaining to him. Ruriko could see feelings? Suddenly, he felt Tatsumi shudder, hard enough that he felt it too. "Seiichirou, it's alright," he whispered. He put his hands on Tatsumi's cheeks, looking into his very, very blue eyes. "You don't have to, if you don't want to, Seiichirou."
"I couldn't save them." Tatsumi's voice was suddenly cold, almost harsh. He shook his head, trembling. "I didn't realize…I didn't know…but I should have…:"
"Who?" Tsuzuki almost shook as Tatsumi's eyes looked back at him. "Who couldn't you save, Sei?"
"Mother…and Father…" came the reply. "Mamoru, and Takeshi, and Manimi, and Kizu, and Sana. My family."
That same look had returned to his eyes, Tsuzuki realized. The look he'd seen the night before. But… Tsuzuki struggled. Which was better, to hold him or to encourage him? He wanted to know what was wrong, how he wanted to know, but….he didn't know if Tatsumi was ready to tell him.
"I was the youngest." Tatsumi began speaking again, his eyes glassy. "Mamoru was teasing me, and he made he cry. So I ran upstairs. We had such a big house, so pretty. It was easy to hide." Tatsumi suddenly pulled Tsuzuki close to him, and everything plunged into darkness.
Tsuzuki struggled not to cry out in terror. He wanted to stay still, but a whimper escaped his lips and he began to shiver in Tatsumi's arms.
"It's alright," Tatsumi whispered. He took a gentle hold of Tsuzuki's hand, raising it up to touch the blackness. Tsuzuki was startled to feel something beneath his fingers, warm and pulsing. Tatsumi pushed his hand through the darkness, then back in. "It's just a shadow," he said into Tsuzuki's ear. "See?"
Tsuzuki took a deep breath. Without Tatsumi's help, he reached into the pitch blackness. Just a shadow, he told himself. A warm, soft shadow. It was…it was like … His mind clicked. It was like when he'd been a child, playing under the blankets to hide from the servants. He felt calm again, steady, ready to hear Tatsumi's pain.
"I used to play with them like this. I didn't understand what they were, or why they did this. It was…my escape, my secret." A short pause, and then, "I was doing this that day. I couldn't hear anything, feel anything, see anything except the shadows. I didn't know…"
Suddenly, the world—well, the bedroom, at least—came back into view. Tatsumi's voice was cold, almost dead, as he said, "There was a fire. I never knew how, or why, but…when I came out, it was so hot, and it was everywhere. I could hear…" He grabbed Tsuzuki tightly, a sob breaking out from his throat. "I heard them crying and screaming for help. My family, Asato! My mother and father and brothers and sisters! I screamed, too…and my shadows surrounded me, saving my life. When I woke up, hours later, I was laying there, in the ash and the ruins. Someone was shaking me, asking what happened, and I…"
Tsuzuki was stunned. He pulled Tatsumi against his chest, wrapping his arms around his back, holding him. He was crying. His Seiichirou was sobbing, like the frightened child he must have been. "Oh Seiichirou," he whispered. He couldn't have imagined… He held his love closer, whispering gentle, warm words into his ear.
Tatsumi began to quiet down, leaning heavily into Tsuzuki's chest. He'd shown so many emotions—despair and grief, anger and guilt—so quickly, that they were all mixed up and whirled together like a tornado.
Tsuzuki reflected back on his own childhood. All he remembered was a flurry of faces, never staying long enough for him to get to know. Everyone was desperate to get away from him. If they died, he wouldn't have cared—he wouldn't have even known. To lose someone so close—an entire family—was something he couldn't imagine, save to envision the dreadful idea of losing Tatsumi.
"Mother…" Tatsumi was whispering again, but he sounded better. "Mother was the only one who would take me in. They were terrified of me…they thought I was a demon." Tatsumi's voice dropped, and he, unable to say the thought aloud, pressed his mouth to Tsuzuki's ear. "They said I killed them." His hands were none too gentle, but Tsuzuki didn't even feel the bruises forming beneath Tatsumi's hands as he clung to him. "They never said it aloud, but their eyes…their eyes followed me, everywhere I went, crying out that it was my fault, it was all because of me. And…I couldn't do anything, because I knew it was true!"
Tsuzuki's heart ached in sympathy. He remembered—how terribly he remembered—the pain, the looks of terror in the faces of his servants, as he reached up with his childish hands to touch them. They flinched, as if burned; they turned their backs to him; their eyes held pure terror.
Tatsumi began talking again, his taking deep, pained breaths as he spoke. "Mother took care of me, even though I was never kind to her. I just wanted to be left alone. I just wanted to get away, somewhere far away, where no one would ever look at me again. Everyday that passed, I came to see, more and more, that it was my fault. If I'd…if I'd just thought…I could have saved them." There was such a dark, almost violently intense look in Tatsumi's eyes was almost unbearable, but Tsuzuki kept their eyes locked together. "I knew how to do it, Asato. I knew…I knew I could control them. If I'd only…if I hadn't been so scared…"
Tatsumi let out a choked breath. "I don't care if I was a child. It doesn't matter! I know I could have saved them, Asato!" His eyes glittered with unshed tears. "Even if you deny my family, what about my friends, my comrades? They've died at my sides because of my weakness and stupidity too."
Tatsumi suddenly tried to pull away. Tsuzuki, too stunned to react, grabbed him closer. "No!" he cried without thinking. "Don't…don't stop. I want to hear everything, Seiichirou," he whispered faintly. He tried to find something else to say, but found himself floundering helplessly, tugging desperately at Tatsumi's arm.
"They say…everyone tells me it's not my fault…" Tatsumi stopped struggling, sinking into Tsuzuki's arms completely. His voice was a dull, scratchy whisper.
"It's…it's not…" Tsuzuki murmured as tenderly as he could.
"No…Asato…don't say that. I know that." A sort of painful weariness crept in Tatsumi's voice, and he was starting to feel heavy against Tsuzuki's slender frame.
"Then why…?" The question came out, unbidden, from Tsuzuki's mouth. "Why are you hurting so much, Seiichirou? Why are you crying out so hard that it was your fault?"
"Asato…" Tatsumi kissed him, sweet and soft. "I know…" He took a deep breath, his face a sickly, pale color. "I know that I have limits, that I…maybe I couldn't have saved them, if I tried." Another kiss, better than the first. Sighing, Tsuzuki slowly let himself relax, still confused but reassured.
"Asato…?" Tatsumi's hot whisper in his ear made Tsuzuki let out a soft, contented sound in lieu of a reply. "Even if I know it's not my fault…I want to believe it is. It hurts so much, Asato; you see how much it aches and pains me." He kept speaking, his voice strangely animated, so unlike his normally calm demeanor. "I suffer, day after day, for not saving them…for not forgiving myself…because I know that if I don't, an even worse pain awaits me." He crushed Tsuzuki, he was so close; his body was so heavy, his emotions so thick that Tsuzuki could hardly breathe. He kissed Tsuzuki again, leaving him pleasingly dizzy, airless and drowning in Tatsumi's darkest, deepest feelings.
"The thing that hurts me the most…" Tsuzuki's mind, still hazy from the sudden pleasure, couldn't respond quickly enough, and all he could do was freeze as he heard Tatsumi's voice finish with surprising clarity, "…is that I never died with them."
The momentary calm that swept over them shattered like glass.
Tsuzuki choked back a stunned sob. He could find neither the strength to strike Tatsumi for his stupidity nor the voice to cry out his objections.
"Why am I forced to keep watching the people I love get hurt…?" Tatsumi wondered aloud. He buried his face against Tsuzuki's chest. "I hate living in this world where I can't stop anything, can't do anything but watch. I'd rather die than watch you get hurt, Asato... But I can't find the will to wish for death anymore." Tatsumi sighed. "I can't find my apathy to life…because I couldn't stand to lose you." He planted a small kiss on Tsuzuki's cheek, murmuring to himself, "I never thought anyone else would ever make me feel like this. But I don't think I could live through losing my reason for living again." He sighed again. "Stay with me, Asato. Please, don't leave me..."
Tsuzuki was motionless as Tatsumi, exhausted from his grueling confession, fell into a sound deep, sleep. His eyes shimmered with pale tears. "Sei…" His voice broke as he tried to speak his love's name. He felt instinctively protective of Tatsumi in his vulnerable state, even as he felt every bit as vulnerable as Tatsumi, perhaps even more so. All his illusions of Tatsumi being so different from him, of Tatsumi showing him all the wonderful things he had missed, and how he should have been able to live…
All those dreams, and yet…he felt even happier to know that, deep down, Tatsumi was exactly like him, had endured the same pain, and was now experiencing the same newfound joy as he did.
The sun was warm, and bright. The morning had come all too soon.
Tsuzuki woke slowly, as he always did, a combination sweet dreams and peaceful relaxation making him loathe to rejoin the world. But a darker element had snuck into his peaceful rest, and he found himself torn between denying the world and denying the dreams.
A soft, pleasant sensation made him shiver. He didn't want to think, didn't want to dream, just to lose himself in that familiar, safe feeling…
He woke suddenly, a chill breeze washing over him, and the pleasing touch ended.
"I'm sorry, Asato."
Tatsumi's voice was rougher than usual. He seemed to be holding back some part of himself, keeping his voice even and emotionless, his touches quick and only necessary.
"I…I think I have frightened you needlessly." Tatsumi drew close, kissing Tsuzuki on the forehead, gently letting his fingers drift into the soft brown strands of hair. Tsuzuki lifted his hand up too touch Tatsumi's chest, but he couldn't make his eyes meet his.
Even his words were cold, Tsuzuki thought. He'd never realized, before…how icy Tatsumi was with him, always holding back, always putting him first. He'd never realized the depths of Tatsumi's emotions until he'd seen the fiery passion exposed mere hours before. "I…I never knew," Tsuzuki said finally. "You've…you've been hurting so much, Seiichirou, and yet you…you've done so much for me."
Tatsumi hesitated before putting an arm around Tsuzuki's back. Timid…that was the word…such an alien word, concerning Tatsumi. "Asato, you are the most innocent soul I've ever known. After…after all of this…you still think I'm nothing but a perfect knight, the hero of the story."
Tsuzuki's eyes finally met his, bright and so terribly beautiful. He swallowed hard. "That's all I ever knew of you." His usual humor was gone; he was sadder, meeker, just as he'd been when Tatsumi found him. His voice was sullen, though, as he continued, "Why should I change because of this? You…you never cared about it when I was hurt, so why should I?" Tatsumi stiffened, but Tsuzuki went on, "You were never scared of knowing that I hated myself. I wanted to die. I was just like you, and you think I'd be scared to be with you?"
The statement, dark and accusatory, sapped Tsuzuki's strength, and he sagged, suddenly, turning his face away. Tsuzuki hadn't meant to be so cross, but Tatsumi was…was being so stupid!
"I…" Tatsumi's voice was warm against Tsuzuki's ears, but still so distant. "No….Tsuzuki, I wasn't like you. Not at all."
Tsuzuki was instantly attentive. "What?" he whispered in surprise.
"If I'd been as strong as you, Asato, I wouldn't be here."
"Strong? Me?" Tsuzuki said, disbelieving. No, he was never…strong, not until Tatsumi…
"Your heart is so pure, so strong," Tatsumi repeated, emphasizing the word. "For me, just to exist took every ounce of strength I had. To even think of…just ending it all…was something I could never have done. I had no reason to live, and I was too weak to die. Asato, I wasn't…it's not like I was being noble by staying alive. I couldn't find the courage to do anything else."
Tatsumi shivered as he spoke, his voice still icy, but starting to pour out some of the fire he'd had before. "I was as good as dead. I had to find something, anything to keep myself from just collapsing. I couldn't die, and I couldn't live, Asato."
"But you could hurt," Tsuzuki whispered. "And the hurt…made it better, didn't it?" Tatsumi nodded, a small movement, but so heavy with meaning. "Because you…" His voice caught in his throat, but he forced the thoughts out anyway. "You had to…to do something to make up for what you did wrong. They'd never forgive you until you…until you were good again…" The world was spinning before Tsuzuki's eyes, a dull throb making him ache all over.
"Yes," Tatsumi breathed. "The only way to be forgiven…was never to forgive myself." His eyes closed, and he breathed out, long slow breaths. "How could you know that?" He didn't want to ask, didn't want to know the inevitable question, but he couldn't help himself.
"No matter what I did, they always hated me," Tsuzuki replied faintly. "Whether I was bad, or good, sad or happy. I just…gave up. I only wanted…"
Tatsumi finished the thought with chilling accuracy. "You only wanted to be loved."
"Yes."
"To be held and comforted…to let all your fears and joys out…"
Tsuzuki began to nod, feverishly, tremblingly. "Yes."
"Just…like this…"
"Yes…" Tsuzuki's answer twisted into a long, drawn-out moan. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt so much… But there were Tatsumi's long, gentle fingers, stroking his cheek, Tatsumi's arm holding him so tight and close, almost painful in their fumbling attempts to be as close as possible.
"Warm, and soft," Tatsumi murmured. "Sweet and kind and so perfect."
"Hurting…but so good," Tsuzuki added. "So strong…and so weak."
"I did mean what I said, Asato." Tatsumi's voice was steady again, gentle and understanding as the first time Tsuzuki had heard it. "I've changed since we met. I've lived with my grief, and my vengeance, all my life. Then I saw you, lying there, so beautiful and I…" A deep kiss interrupted his reminiscences, turning his head with the sheer feeling that filled him. He broke it off, gently. Smiling sheepishly, he finished, "I wanted you more than anything else in the world. You were everything I could have wanted, Asato, and you needed me as much as I wanted you."
Tsuzuki blinked up at him, so like he had in the past. "'Wanted me'?" he repeated, cocking his head to the side curiously. "You mean, you…you always knew you loved me, even then?"
"Ah…" Tatsumi hesitated, turning away only slightly. "Something like that, yes."
Tsuzuki looked at him for a long moment. His face lit up into a small, but somewhat unnerving, smile. "Really?" he asked innocently.
"Yes," Tatsumi replied, shifting a bit to hide his sudden burst of nerves.
Tsuzuki's gaze lingered a moment longer, before he happily threw his arms around Tatsumi's shoulders. "That's wonderful!" he almost yelled, so great was his enthusiasm. "You must have been so happy!"
"Yes," Tatsumi replied, a strange expression on his face. "Yes…I was very happy."
A dark look came over Tsuzuki's face. "Then why did you leave?"
"I didn't think you felt the same," Tatsumi replied evenly. He wasn't lying…but he wasn't telling the whole truth, either. It seemed so foolish now. "It hurt me to think that you might fall in love with someone else."
"Poor Seiichirou," Tsuzuki said, hugging him tightly. "I didn't know I hurt you."
"It's alright. We're together now, Asato." Tatsumi felt at peace, but there was still something that bothered him, in the back of his head. Tsuzuki had such pure, expressive eyes, and he decided to focus his attention there instead. They were such a lovely violet hue, a color no normal human ever had. Such…unearthly eyes, that drew you in like magnets. Almost like…
Tsuzuki chose that moment to turn his face towards the sun-lit window, and Tatsumi was never more thankful. He couldn't suppress that dark look that came over his face. That's right. He'd almost forgotten, for Tsuzuki was so…so innocent. So unlike him…
If he had chosen to love anyone else, he was sure he could never have forgotten, but Tsuzuki… Tsuzuki cast a spell over him, making all his terrible memories disappear. No, he wouldn't ruin this moment, this strange peace born out of pain and tears that had settled around them. But…
"Seiichirou! Asato!"
Ruriko was calling them, probably to the morning meal. He had to visit the Count today, explain what had happened in the last year. No, now was not the time. He had to put off this one, last secret, just for now…
Tsuzuki was virtually radiating happiness, muttering things about food under his breath. He looked ready to start floating into the kitchen; indeed, nothing could have stopped him, except that Tatsumi's arms were still wrapped tightly around his slender waist.
"We'll be okay." The moment froze. In an instant, Tsuzuki was calm, poised, serious…in the next, bouncing and innocent as a child.
"I think we will," Tatsumi said, his voice soft. Was it too much to hope for? And yet… "I know we'll be alright," he repeated, stronger.
"Seiichirou! Asato? Are you coming, or do I need to get you myself?" Ruriko called again, her voice teasing.
"That's enough, Seiichirou," Tsuzuki said, smiling. He kissed Tatsumi on the mouth affectionately, wrapping his arms around his love's neck. He pulled back, only enough to speak once more, soft enough that Tatsumi could only just hear it. "I live for you, and you live for me…and we'll both be able to live happily." Another long, purposely drawn-out kiss, and Tsuzuki pulled back to whisper, "If nothing else…you saved me, Seiichirou. You can't hurt me so easily, either."
Tatsumi's mind rallied against the thought. It was too much to hope for—Tsuzuki might be not realize it, but he could still be hurt. But his heart won out, finding solace in the knowledge that, yes, Tsuzuki was not as delicate as he seemed. If he ever lost control…no, he couldn't hurt Tsuzuki; not even Death had managed that feat. And even more comforting, Tsuzuki told the truth about one thing—he had saved him. Out of all the lives he knew had died at his hands, whether accidental or purposeful, he had saved the life that truly mattered, and in doing so had managed to save, too, the one life he never wanted to—his own.
"Asato," he breathed, using one arm to virtually crush their bodies together, the other to none-too-gently twist in Tsuzuki's hair as they kissed. He felt something being pulled from him, from deep inside his body, as Tsuzuki gently sucked at his lips. For a brief, agonizing instant, he felt…empty, cold, alone. And in the next, he felt as if whatever taken was returned, filling him with white hot heat, in every vein, every part of his body.
Tatsumi, in that moment of sweet sensation, felt…clean. Innocent. As if every guilt and pain had been cleansed from his very being.
As he stayed there, frozen, he felt Tsuzuki fall against him, as if his energy were gone. The thought, briefly, crossed his mind that Tsuzuki had done something, some magic to him, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. He knew, in his heart, not to question, not to ask, for he'd never receive an answer.
Besides, he found himself thinking, why should he ruin his first moment of true happiness?
That was…utterly exhausting. Did it make nay sense at all? I'm starting to think I need a beta reader to help out with these things.
Oh, yes, there is a next part, as you know. I'm hoping it will be out within the month, but I can't make any promises. Then there's a whole separate story arc I'm working out the kinks to. Tsk, if this part doesn't get me lynched for all the emotional pain I'm sadistically inflicting on Tatsumi and Tsuzuki, the next part will. I think I've left enough hints to suggest what I'm thinking, but…well, it's not too pleasant, just to warn you.
Thanks for all the great support and reviews, everyone!
