Plants
Chapter 3

- - - -

Yuki bent over the shungiku and rubbed the dark leaves lightly with his thumb and index finger. He raised his fingers to his lips and flicked out his tongue to catch a single petal. The soft scent of the chrysanthemum played mildly in his mouth, and Yuki bowed his head in a gesture of kind cognizance. At last, the flowers tasted ready.

"I'm surprised. You budded overnight," said the prince, smiling at the taste that lingered on his tongue. "You're ready early just for me, aren't you? I hope you don't mind if I pick a couple of your leaves and flowers."

The five-inch plants shivered in response to the sweeping breeze and their gardener's soothing, melodious voice.

"It's good, too, that you're ready. All those natural vitamins in your leaves; your petals, even... They'll help him heal. He's a fast healer, but I think that he's really sick this time. Hatori said he might not be well enough for school after this weekend. And the house is too quiet without him.

Who'd have thought that I'd miss his voice?" Yuki murmured, his voice fading at the end. "It's the last thing anyone would suspect. He'd certainly never suspect anything, and it's better that way."

Ducking softly, he gently held the base of a stem and snapped off a couple of its' blooms. The remaining petals shook, sending the last traces of morning dew into the dirt.

Tohru came to the garden a little later that afternoon and helped Yuki in cleaning up the last of the plant roots. It had come to be a tradition for her, to help harvest the new herbs and keep Yuki company. He didn't need her there, but he didn't mind. It was nice to show himself to others, sometimes. And she tried to look out for him the best she could, which Yuki supposed, was a helpful thing as well. Today she came, waving about apair of garden gloves. Yuki looked down at his hands in mystery. He hadn't missed having his gloves at all.

He didn't know what to say.

Tohru didn't appear to notice his silence. In fact, Yuki figured that she never noticed that sort of thing. And true to form, Tohru filled the empty space with pleasant chatter from the moment she arrived, and far after the time she left, with Yuki in her tow.

Then, suddenly, it was evening.

- - - -

The tendrils of sunset creeped from underneath the cat's bedroom door. Yuki looked at the broken beam of orange light that played at his feet, and became flustered. The cat was lucky to see such a beautiful nightfall in the evenings, he thought. But that stupid cat wouldn't appreciate that beauty. He doesn't deserve that room. Yuki frowned slightly, looked up to the door, and he made a move as if to knock it - when he paused. He'd never knocked on the cat's door before, Yuki realized. Of course, he'd never been polite to the cat and there was no reason why he ought to start acting nice, just because the cat was sick. Instead, Yuki dropped his fist and kicked the screen door hard.

And he kicked the door twice more, just for good measure.

"Oi, you stupid cat! Open the door," he threated, "Don't make me break it down."

A hoarse cough came from the other side. "Don't kick it, you damn rat!"

Yuki felt an unwanted smile tugging at his lips.

Because for some reason, the tension had spontaneously left the spot between his shoulderblades. He didn't care to deny that hearing the cat's voice made him feel better. After all, Kyou's voice - horribly annoying and loud as it was - made the house feel like... Home.

The prince barely registered the doorknob turning before his vision was overwhelmed with the sight of Kyou. Ruby light from the sun framed the cat as he propped himself up on the doorframe: as the light struck him, ruby and gold emblazened the edges of his hair; a nearly-tangible radiance shone from his skin; embers burned lowly in his darkly crimson and sleep-sick eyes.

"Yeah, what do you want?" the cat muttered, his voice rough.

"I'm giving you dinner. Honda-san's worried that you aren't eating."

The cat looked down at the meal, and at that moment Yuki noticed exactly how worn and sick his face really was. The cat's hair, which he groomed obsessively, stuck in a number of strange directions, clumpy as if the victim of night sweats and nightmares. His undereyes were bruised blue, as if they'd been dipped into a jar of india ink. The prince forced his eyes away and scowled for nearly caring.

Kyou caught the boy's reaction and instinctively responded with a glare to match.

"You... wanna fight, you damn-"

"You're sick," Yuki said pointedly.

"I don't care," Kyou insisted, breathing heavily at the mere thought of physical activity, "I can still beat... you. Then it'll just be more proof... that I'm better than you..."

Yuki looked up and met the cat's eyes for a moment, stubbornly refusing to give into the pressure of sparing him a pitying glance. He stood for a moment in front of Kyou, the sunlight nearly blinding, and then he bent down, placing the tray of soup onto the ground.

"...Hey! Rat! Did you hear me? Or... what!"

Yuki stood back up, his eyes still focused on the dinner tray. Three flower petals swirled in the sunlit bowl of soup.

"Yes," said Yuki softly. And then he turned around, leaving Kyou to the wonder of a setting sun and the smell of shungiku chrysanthemum.