Star approached the engawa, seeing Soul half out of his door as he lounged on his stomach, smoking pipe in hand. "What did I tell you about that shit?"
His sigh greyed the air as ruby eyes tickled with half interest towards him. "Havin' a nice dinner means I have to."
He flopped next to him, one hand balancing him as he leaned back while the other held the book to his side. "Got another hunch."
"What?" Soul grumbled.
"Stops you from transformin', huh?" Star nudged his shoulder into Soul, sending the other man teetering just as much as his question. "Or at least does a half decent job of it. It's the vial– the stuff that really pisses Maka off that really kills it though."
"Kills me," Soul muttered. "Gotta get the antidote or it will."
Star huffed. "Well, you can call it quits with that stuff. I told you all you need is–"
"I'll think about it."
Even Star knew the ice there couldn't be thawed, so he let Soul have this last word. Instead, he tossed the book to his other hand, plopping it unceremoniously under Soul's nose. "An engagement gift."
It was Soul's turn for a chuckle as he nudged the book away. "Thought Maka would have already complained to you that I don't read."
"Ain't exactly about readin'…"
While the cover gave nothing away, Star flipping to the first page exposed Soul to the opposite. The title itself was eye-catching—The Lovers' Guide—but it was the torrid illustration that left nothing to the imagination. A man's face was pressed firmly between a woman's breasts, his hand inching under her loosened obi. "W-what the hell is this?"
"What?" Star's eyebrows jumped playfully. "You said you didn't know a thing about girls, so… got you the latest thing that all the little ladies are gettin' their lovers." As if to illustrate his point, he flipped the page to another colorfully graphic depiction of a naked, outstretched female.
Soul slapped a hand over the middle, obscuring the juiciest bits. "I-I don't care if it's popular, I wanna know why!" He tried to push the book back but Star stopped the glide.
"Why?" he scoffed. "'Cause while I bet you play the koto like a star that doesn't mean that translates to a lady's body."
"But I'm not–" Soul was turning a particular shade of crimson that matched his eyes.
"You're an engaged man!" Star slapped a hand to Soul's shoulder. "In your prime! Which means one thing…" He used his other hand to pry up Soul's, displaying the delightful curvature.
"It's fake," Soul hissed under his breath but his eyes still shot momentarily for the image.
"So's this." He waved nonchalantly over the book. "Doesn't mean you can't learn a thing or two just in case the real thing comes along." There was something particularly pleasing about the way Soul's mouth gaped, making Star erupt into cackles. "'Cause it sure seems like you two have been makin' enough eyes at each other."
The mask couldn't hide the renewed flush of his skin. "W-we– it's not like that at all, she– she wouldn't–"
"Y'know, normally, I'd agree with you"—Star started to waggle his finger under Soul's nose—"'specially since she's never even taken a second look at a guy."
"She's not lookin' at me," Soul hissed before he shut the book. "She's just doin' me a favor."
Star sighed, jutting out a hand to keep Soul from shoving the book into oblivion. "Fine. Not Maka then, but maybe someday you'll need to know."
"Whatever," he grumbled as he dropped his head over the cover.
"Can't hurt," he snapped back as he stood and hopped from the engawa. "It'll give you somethin' to do until this party tonight. Trust me, it's at least an interestin' read."
Being on the center dais was never where Maka had imagined herself. Layers of kimono draped around her, the words "my lady" echoing through the air, all of it alien and uncomfortable. One of the few comforts was Soul, whose eyes shined back to hers with the same message. As the next of his father's acquaintances left the audience, Soul leaned to her to whisper: "That comb… I'm glad you wore it. It fits you."
What do you expect me to say to that? Her cheeks wanted to burn, making her vainly try to puff them in an attempt to dissuade or at least disguise the color. "Isn't it in good taste for a bride to wear what her groom buys her?" The annoyance in her voice couldn't hold, vaporizing along with her ability to hide the blush on her cheeks. She turned her eyes to him, catching the narrowing and the concern. "And I told you… It's beautiful, so I happen to like it."
A bright smirk flooded his face under the mask. "Good."
Another family was announced, tearing Maka away from the view to the gaggle in front of them. Yes it was just another elderly lord and lady that were probably one of Takehiko's cohorts, but surrounding them were a collection of daughters. Each was perfectly primped in a beautiful array of silks. While the parents chatted with Takehiko and Wes, the women twittered before the middle one leaned forward, bowing towards them. "It's been so long, Soul."
Out of the corner of her eye she could see Soul nod.
"Wes was so nice as to tell us all the truth"—she inched closer as if her whisper weren't reaching the entirety of the room—"that you've been traveling abroad. All those nasty rumors about you being locked away like some animal! How crass!"
"Would be, wouldn't it?"
Maka couldn't stop her chin from tilting, catching the withering in his smile. Do they notice that? Do they see the pain? "I'm glad," Maka's voice boomed over her thoughts, "because it allowed my brother to hear of him."
"Almost seems a waste though, don't you think?" One of the other sisters chimed as she leaned closer into her group. "A foreign bride, when he has so many choices here."
She caught the subtle widening of his eyes and couldn't help the justification rambling off: "My father is, but my mother is from this country." Hush! She bit into her tongue. As if that matters! As if I actually need to defend my place at his side when it's all a lie.
"Oh, my lady, I meant no offense, it's just…" The lovely girl tilted her head enough for the ornament in her hair to jangle. "Soul was quite well loved in his mother's court. He was always surrounded at Aruhime's performances. Even then, he was just as handsome as his brother."
Was it that different when his mother was alive? Regardless of the question, Maka plastered a gentle smile on her lips. "A handsome child often makes a handsome man."
Soul snorted in reply.
"And handsome men should be ashamed when they break hearts," the third sister chimed.
You say that as if he has… She wanted to scoff at the idea but soon the ladies were on their feet, the family shuffling along just to make room for the next. It was a never ending revolution of faces, most of them congratulatory while still offering the back of their hand. It was one small slight after another, but all of them echoed the same: Soul was no longer the pariah but a bachelor that a room full of daughters still had eyes for.
"Finally!" Star collapsed next to Maka, leaning a shoulder into hers. "When they said feast, they meant feast, right?"
"We had to greet everyone," Maka hissed back as she brought a hand up into the collar of her kimono to rub at her aching shoulders. Sitting primly for hours wasn't exactly a common pastime, and the stiffness was starting to set in.
"They'll start servin' now," Soul muttered as he tilted into their conversation, pinning Maka between the two of them. "Star, sake's on it's way."
Star started to chuckle. "Guess you do learn, Whitey."
His lips made their way closer to her ear, making Maka shiver even through the rigidity of her shoulders. "And don't worry, I ain't drinkin' tonight."
Maka tried to put on a show of rolling her eyes, but the smile that brought to his lips made any of that feeling wither away. Yes, your dutiful little mother hen told you not to, didn't she? She glared back towards Star instead, trying to channel whatever was swelling in her chest into something useful. "You will not get drunk tonight."
"Listen, sis, you can boss around your husband-to-be, but you got nothin' on me." Star pinched at the tender flesh at the back of her arm, getting skin even through the layers of kimono.
Frustration growled up from her throat, but Soul's baritone laugh overpowered it. "Let Star have a headache tomorrow. Your shoulders are tense enough as it is." His whisper was back, tickling at her earlobe. "You alright?"
"I'm fine," she snapped back as she leaned out of his range. Wisps of movement in her periphery brought her glare to the left, catching another symphony of gossiping ladies. Every movement I make is for their amusement. I wonder what it's about– that I'm a foreigner, that I'm barely shaped like a woman, that I'm–
A maid obscured her view of the offending parties in order to start passing out delicacies. Each of their trays was filled to the brim, dish after dish begging for her attention. Next came the sake, Maka instantly reaching to fulfill the one rule Marie had drilled into her mind about tonight– always pour for your husband. She took two saucers, motioning them at Soul.
Soul tentatively gripped the offering. "Told you–"
"One won't kill you," Maka murmured as she tilted the carafe to his cup. "Plus, they're watching."
He nodded before tossing the drink back, his lips pressing in a thin line as it burned. "Pour me another."
"I said one," Maka chided, but his hand firmly moved forward. She poured a stingy second draft.
"They're watchin'," he echoed her whisper as he leaned forward. "So, drink with me just this once. Somebody told me, 'one won't kill you.'" He hovered the same cup towards her lips, leaving it close enough for her breath to ripple the liquid.
What a show! A husband serving his wife. A woman drinking sake second only to one man rather than the whole room of them. He really can be devious when he wants to be. She couldn't prevent a smile from curving over the rim of the cup, but as their eyes met over it, those thoughts were destroyed by the bit of pink she caught tinging his ears. It's the sake. He's not blushing– he wouldn't be.
"Maka…"
Has he ever said my name like that before? As her eyes closed, her lips caught the rim, trying to make the burn steal that thought away. It still tasted too sweet to her, too dangerously addictive.
"Now, pour for your brother."
She opened them again, only to catch him glaring off towards the crowd, hair obscuring any hint of color in his face. See? It was all just a good show. Maka quickly swiveled towards Star who was already snatching the cup from her hand.
"You're the same color as a poppy." He curled an eyebrow as he urged the saucer at her. "Awful romantic, wasn't it?"
"Shut up," she hissed. "Take your drink."
While she was pouring—obviously twice because Star was not one to be out-drank—Wes's voice trilled over the rest: "Brother, come here, won't you?"
Maka tried to keep her eyes on Star but found Soul sauntering into her vision as he made his way to Wes. A particularly well-dressed lady knelt in front of Wes, beckoning Soul closer as soon as he stood over them. She watched him sit, watched her pour him another cup to share with his brother, watched as the three started exchanging pleasantries.
"Hey, grab that idiot's cup." Star nudged her, catching her just at the brink of that spiral.
"Why?" she returned with a withering sigh. It didn't stop her from following his directions though, and soon she was holding it as if to offer it to Star.
Instead, he grabbed the flask, shaking it slightly. "We're gonna need more of this." He motioned towards a maid before filling both of the cups in front of him. "Drink up."
"I don't–"
Star nudged her hand a little, strangely careful of going overboard and spilling. "Tonight, you do."
There was no veneer that could hold Soul's smile. For an engagement party, his brother was definitely spending more than enough time keeping Soul from his bride, leaving him only able to toss glances back at Maka. She looked dangerously annoyed, and while he definitely could blame it on Star, some twinge in his gut told him otherwise. She's been upset from the start– not surprisin' since she spent the mornin' cryin'.
He shoved the cup back towards his brother. "Excuse me."
"Wait–" Wes grabbed at his sleeve, keeping him in place. "Honestly, Soul, your manners."
A grin couldn't even part his lips, so the words fell dully between him and the woman who he had barely recognized. "It was nice to see you again, Chiyo." Nothing could be further from the truth, only illustrated by the quick turn he added at the end. All of these girls—Momma's koto students, lesser noble girls who watched her when Father put her on display—I don't remember them. Maybe it was the black room that sucked all of it from my memory, or maybe it was because…
His eyes fell on Maka again, his feet now eager to make the move towards her. He settled back into his seat beside her, leaning closely to whisper to her, "Sorry."
She gave him a strained smile.
"Maka–" He barely had time to start to slip his hand towards hers when the room erupted from just the murmurs of small talk to Takehiko's booming commands.
"The ladies present have arranged a tribute." Takehiko waved a ceremonious hand before maids began to arrange various kotos in the middle of the room. A few select ladies stood from the crowd, making their ways to the instruments. "In honor of the engagement, and in memory of our late, much missed Aruhime, a few of her old students will grace us with a performance tonight."
Now there was no stopping his lips, no hiding the aching, poisonous smirk that parted them. Honorin' my mother, huh? He wanted to turn venomed teeth towards his father but he kept his eyes glued center stage. Our late, much missed. He tucked his hands back into his haori, leaning back and taking in the show.
The beauty of the koto didn't matter– all of it hit him as a clatter of notes since his mother's verdict always rang true: music bared your soul for others to see. None of the souls before him reached with anything other than selfish wants, courtly needs. He was lost in each sour key, eyes unable to lift from the hollow motions that should be filling the room with vibrant song. Even as it ended, Soul was frozen in place.
"Soul," her whisper was soft, but that melody of her voice boomed down to his bones, "you should eat. You haven't tried anything."
He finally tore his eyes away from the show, glaring down at his plate and each untouched dish. Her hands fluttered into his view, her chopsticks plucking the raw fish from the dish in her hand and adding it to the pile on his. It wasn't exactly a melody, not a song from strings, but Soul could still find the genuine tune in her motions. Thank you.
