Maka counted her steps twice. Maybe it was a trick of the early dawn light, but there was no way the pitch of the roof spoke to the one room they resided in. She slid gently over the side, kicking up a little dust on the landing as she walked around the outside of what at first glance should have been a hut. Instead, the fencing seemed to hug the courtyard as if the other leg of the building didn't exist. She found a loose board in the fence and snuck between it, uncovering the rest of the stretch of house. All the windows had been boarded, the slides for doors stuck in their grooves.
It certainly wasn't a sprawling estate like the main building, but enough to house a second family. Instead, we sleep in one room. We eat from the main house, even if we don't travel there. What is he hiding in these rooms? Her heart wanted to leap for the answer but the rising sun made her start her way back instead. Star didn't do a good enough job. There's something here. I know it.
After sneaking back into the fence and turning the corner of the house, Maka watched the tall man appear at the edge of the compound. He was strangely elegant in his stride, even as he carried the expansive koto in his arms. "Ah, you must be the new page."
She moved closer to the engawa, tipping in a bow. "Masao, sir."
"Masao," the man replied with a contented smile. "And where's my brother?"
This must be Master Wes, then. Same mother but ten years his senior– the heir but unwed, unattached, and said to be a real troublemaker. Maka's eyes ran along the wood, trying to hide the exasperation. "Still asleep, my lord."
Wes clucked his tongue, but the smile didn't fade as he placed the koto on the walkway beside her. "I'll wake him. Would you mind grabbing some tea from Marie for us?"
"Of course, my lord." She offered one last look at the instrument before starting off into the yard.
"Come along, little brother." Wes's sweet call followed after her, filled with teasing but still that flutter of love.
Well, I should be surprised Star had that wrong too. His brother obviously cares about him. Even Marie says he visits… Maka rolled her eyes. Leave it to Star to be dramatic. She made her way quickly to the kitchen– the only route to the house that she had memorized yet. Inside, Marie was already bustling over a tray of finely picked porcelain. "Master Wes asked for tea…"
"And you're just in time!" Marie chimed as she finished the last fine-tuning on the tray. "Did Soul take his pipe this morning?"
The question tugged at the back of Maka's mind, settling there uneasily. "No, Master Wes only just woke him."
"Well"—Marie cut herself off with a sigh but let the rest of the tumble out after—"let me know if he smokes after his brother leaves, will you?"
Maka nodded slowly.
"And I added some daifuku– not that he'll eat it…" The last part fluttered under her breath as she turned away from Maka, waving her hand to finish the transaction.
She hefted the tray, laden with more than some daifuku and plenty of tea to boot. There was a clatter of fine porcelain, but that was the only interruption until Maka neared the house. It was a trickle at first, almost nothing more than a haunting echo of the wind but as she moved closer, each pluck came to life, creating a gripping melody to pull her forward. Her footsteps no longer felt like her own, one after another bringing her to a new sight of him that struck her just as deeply as the first.
Soul's deft fingers danced over the strings as he swayed, easily navigating each corner of the koto. The tune sunk under her skin, rattling all the way to her bones as if the strings held their ties to each joint. There was no pause to notice her, so lost in each stroke and pluck. It wasn't until he lulled into a soft strum, stealing away the deep reverberation as if it were air from her lungs, that Maka was able to snap back to her senses and finish the journey towards the engawa.
"Will you take tea with me?" Wes motioned towards the tray as Maka brought it forward.
"You won't leave until I do," Soul murmured in return as he stood from the instrument.
"You're done playing?" Wes reached for him but his hand suddenly fluttered back before Soul could even react.
Maka watched the grim way Soul's jaw set as he watched the retreat of his brother's hand. Maybe that wasn't love– not if his brother can't even touch him. It was as if that sad song had started all over again, her heart murmuring with apprehension. "My lord, Marie sent some daifuku with the tea."
Instead of any bit of joy at the confectionary, Soul's eyes fell dully on her instead. "Give it to Wes."
"He never did have a sweet tooth," Wes lilted sweetly towards Maka before tutting his tongue. "Do you, Masao?"
"My lord?" Maka looked towards Wes just in time to catch the daifuku under her nose.
"Marie makes a particularly wonderful ume daifuku." Wes motioned the plate towards her again. "Ah, brother, I believe Marie's finally hit her mark," Wes teased. "Masao's eyes just lit up like a child's."
A hard scoff brought Maka's attention from the treats to Soul's masked face, a smirk drifting under the line of the wood. "He's not much more than a child. It's not a surprise."
"I'll have you know–" Maka started, her teeth waiting too long to stop the little bit of venom on her tongue.
Wes sighed, but before something amiable could twitter from his mouth, Soul's baritone rumbled back, "Have me know what?"
Her chest swelled at the challenge, breath breaking the barrier of her teeth. "I'm twenty. Most certainly not a child."
"Just scrawny," Soul seemed to offer as clarification.
"As if you're one to talk," Maka shot back but made sure it was nothing more than a grumble under her breath as she turned to the tea tray. She snatched a cup, pouring with little patience before turning to Soul. The thrust towards him made the liquid swell to the lip, threatening to splash. "Your tea, my lord."
He examined her hand first, eyes calculating the space in between her fingers. "Leave it there."
"I'm serving you, my lord." She added that little bit of petulance again as she wobbled the tea towards him.
"Masao, put it down." While she'd only heard a playful lilt from Wes, it was suddenly a draft of cold behind her. "It's better if you don't risk touching him."
Risk? Maka only let the word glint over her mind for a moment. Instead, she toyed with her fingers until they sat uncomfortably around the rim, leaving the bottom of the cup unobstructed. "Your hand," she insisted.
Red eyes burned, but regardless of that urging to melt her away, Maka was unmoved.
"Brother," Wes warned.
A strange mist drifted across the red as Soul's eyes focused over her shoulder in the direction of the caveat.
Maka took a step forward, close enough that her whisper was only for him. "I'm not afraid of you."
For a moment, those eyes took up all the space of the holes around them before shrinking back to narrow at her. "Masao…" That name was entirely filled with tumult, and the hand that came after matched it, fingers shaking even in their straightness. His palm drifted under her hand to make a landing.
"Your tea, my lord."
"Thanks." He nodded as his hand closed around the porcelain while hers moved away.
Maka turned, catching Wes staring at them intently. His mouth had pulled into an unintelligible line. "Shall I pour for you, Master Wes?"
"No, thank you." Gone was any of his humor, voice just as flat as his lips. It only lasted for that moment until his head upturned towards Soul. "Brother, will you play again?"
Soul took a long sip of tea.
"If you'll excuse me…" Maka murmured to him before climbing back up the engawa and to her side of the divide. She sat with her back to the men, but their voices still easily drifted into the room.
"Soul–"
"You should play."
"I don't do it half as well as you do."
That compliment lingered but not sweetly before Soul's gritting voice came back. "Father would disagree."
"And Mother wouldn't."
It took a few beats of her heart before the melody started again, eerie but still calling to every last inch of her skin. Goosebumps chased after the chill that each wave of sound urged forth. It was beauty draped in melancholy, bringing her set shoulders to turn to see him just sway into view. Soul still floated easily as if the melody had no effect on him, hair flicking with each reach along the length of the koto.
What kind of man are you? echoed desperately on repeat as he plucked away.
It was only with a lull in the strikes that Maka heard the start of Wes's whispers. "... sends word that they will be back again. They've insisted on some kind of improvement from you, but…" It disappeared again into the song, forcing her to inch closer towards the entrance without breaking the concentration of either brother. "... brought their attention back to you. If you could just marry, produce another that they could–"
The music stopped abruptly, Soul's voice slicing coldly through the last note: "I can't marry."
"Father will change his mind, Soul, I swear–"
"You think Father is the reason?" His voice cracked along with the floor as he stood again, pacing into Maka's view. "It's time for you to leave, Wes."
The only sound was the porcelain touching the tray. "Please, give it thought, Soul."
Maka watched as his hand trembled up to his mask, touching tentatively to the rim without an answer. The next sound was the clattering of the koto scraping against the engawa, then the continued tread of footsteps while Soul stood still in her view. "My lord?"
Her voice pulled him from wherever he had drifted, his hand falling lifelessly to his side. "What you said…"
"Yes?" Maka prompted, seeing his mouth work wordlessly around a reply.
He tossed a sigh out towards the garden. "Ignore my brother."
"That's not what I said," she corrected as she sat straighter while he began to bend. "If it was about the tea–"
"You should be more careful," Soul whispered roughly.
"You still took it."
The prod hit him with the force of a punch, a step faltering him to turn towards her.
"I'm a man, aren't I?" she retorted, even though the ridiculousness of the question fell solely on her. "So no matter how scrawny you may think I am, I don't need your protection."
She had expected the same smirk from before but his smile withered with bitter sadness. The strange way it held disturbed her more than his silence.
"I meant what I said."
A soft, huff of a laugh left his lips.
Especially since everyone else does, don't they? She started to her feet, sending him a step back on his. "You should really eat the daifuku. Marie seemed hopeful that you would."
His gaze followed the wood back to the tray, falling on the assortment his brother left behind. "You have it." The only emphasis for that came with a weak wave of his hand before he started to disappear to his side of the screen.
The regular meals—bland chicken and lifeless rice as far as Maka had received from the kitchen—left her mouth watering at the idea. She waited, listening to him shuffle back to his bedding until he was motionless. As soon as silence stuck, Maka walked to the tray and settled next to it. All of the treats sat neglected, tea still steaming at their side. "Do you not like it?"
A noncommittal grunt emanated from behind her.
"Is it the plum?" Maka offered again as her fingers dimpled the mochi.
"I don't have a sweet tooth." Soul's fleeting mockery of his brother's voice brought a snicker up Maka's throat. "You like it."
"I have a sweet tooth," Maka admitted as she lifted the treasure up to her lips and let her teeth sink into the soft outer shell. She tried to slow down each revolution of her jaw, savoring the treat. He provided her the silence to do so, leaving her uninterrupted long enough to make the rest disappear. Maka played with the flour dust still on her fingers. "You play the koto beautifully."
The floor creaked, but out of the corner of her eye she could only see him lifting up on an elbow, his face still away from her. "My brother's the musician."
"You may look alike—not that I'd really know with the mask—but I saw you playing, not him." She turned her head the rest of the way, trying to bore a hole in the back of his head with her glare. "I've never heard that song before."
"Because it's mine," he murmured.
"You wrote it?" Maka couldn't keep the incredulity from her voice.
The hesitation of his breath sounded more like a bellow, clear to Maka from across the room. "My mother helped me."
That's the only thing we have in common—Maka bit down on the sigh as her heart lurched instead—my mother's just as gone as yours.
"She was… much better than me." Those were words so soft that they could have been lost in the wind, but Maka snatched them tightly.
She turned her head entirely, catching as he flopped weakly onto his back with eyes deeply focused on the ceiling. "She taught you?"
The inflation of his chest came with an unevenness that drifted into his voice. "Yeah."
Maka fidgeted before crawling from the engawa to the mat, her side against the screen. His masked face turned towards her but then all motion stopped, flame-kissed eyes staring. "It's another thing you don't seem to like."
"What?" he asked flatly.
"You played for such a short time…" It was as if Maka had to pluck each word from her tongue, her own voice stiff. It wasn't as if wading in and out of other people's lives was an alien process to her, but that strange glow to his eyes set every nerve askew.
He echoed her, each word coming with weight of its own. "It reminds me of her." His throat bobbed while his lips parted for another weak breath before renewing his whisper. "She used to say that music bared your soul for others to see…"
Then what kind of man are you? echoed again with an odd warbling beat of her heart. Because the music… your music feels like…
His hand came up to the mask as if to push it closer to his skin, muddling the already weak wisp of his voice. "My father fell in love with her the first time she played the koto." A bitter laugh trickled from under his hand before it fell lifelessly back to the mat. "Her soul was beautiful. That's the only reason you think my song is."
No! instantly sprung to Maka's mind but her mouth hesitated until the grin died on his. There was an ache that reverberated through the floor to her, one that leaked from his heart with such strength. "Though I heard the physician say you look like your mother, I am fairly sure it was you I heard playing that song. Not her. Not your brother. That music– that song was yours, and however–" However I felt about it was from you, not from them.
He was coiled, frozen in his wait for a sentence that wouldn't come. When the silence filled with the whir of insects from the trees nearby, a breath finally came to him before he used it. "You're not afraid of me."
For all unwillingness there had been in her heart for those other words to pass, this one came easily. "No."
"You…" His finger tapped against the mat to fill the space.
"I mean what I say, my lord," she snapped.
He sighed, his hand stilling as his nails pressed into the mat instead. "Go bring the dishes back to Marie."
Maka offered a quick glance back at the tray before honing in on him. "I will, after–"
"What?" gnashed from between his teeth quickly as he sat up. "What else could you possibly–" The rest caught in his throat, bobbing bitterly. "What?" he repeated in a low murmur.
"–I remind you that you played beautifully." Her voice sounded firmly even as her knees wobbled as she got to her feet. She turned towards the engawa and took a few more steps, throwing the rest over her shoulder. "I want you to know that I mean that too."
