Chapter 2: Nerva Iterum Fugit
It is a well-known principle to many, many school students that if you lie face-down on a book the whole night, you will not have sucked all the knowledge from it into your head by the time you awake. No matter how many times you fall asleep on your books.
It didn't work for Shigure Sohma, either. Not that he really cared. Shigure woke up in his office/library to a cold draft from the shoji door that had been left open all night, and a cramp in his back from spending the night hunched over a volume of Edward Gibbon's "The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire" (in English!). It was very interesting. He did find it particularly interesting to draw parallels between particular Roman emperors with modern-day figures and politicians – and even people he knew. Running a hand through his dark, Shigure stood up and went to close the door. He shivered. Autumn was almost over. If he hadn't kept his obi on over his shirt, he would have caught a terrible cold. A cold. That wouldn't have mattered too much.
Oh . . . ? Wouldn't it? A memory came to him, unbidden.
She gasped and ran to the gray-haired boy's side, fervently feeling his forehead. He blushed at the contact, but she didn't notice. "That's terrible!" she exclaimed. "Do you have a fever?"
Banishing the memory, the tall man turned around and surveyed his room in silence. Several brown, brittle leaves were strewn around the room, having blown in during the night. Shigure looked at each and every one of them for a while . . . and left them where they were. He went back to stand at his desk. He picked up the cup of long-cold tea from the desk and brought it out to the kitchen. He poured out the freezing liquid and put the kettle on to boil up some more water. He stood by the kettle as it boiled, its growing ire gradually managing to conquer and destroy the thick cloud of quiet which prevailed around the house, until the switch flipped, the sound retreated, and the silence engulfed the kitchen once more.
Shigure poured the tea and sat at the dining room table. He ran through everything he needed to do today. All his manucripts were finished, if anything he was ahead of schedule (Mitchan was getting worried, he was sure), and there wasn't any cleaning to do either. He had started cleaning ever since . . . . that, and the house, though not as clean as Tohru had managed to keep it, was definitely not a tip. Shigure didn't mind cleaning anymore, he found. In fact he did it almost relentlessly at times. It helped get rid of the silence for a while.
Unfortunately, one person, even if that person was Shigure, couldn't produce much mess. And so, he was faced with a very uneventful, very quiet day. Of course he had had plenty of those before Yuki came to live with him, but the result of having his house full of noise and life and laughter for a year was that he found it hard to get used to it again. And he wasn't sure if he ever would.
Silence, silence, more silence to come. It was maddening sometimes. He had long since stopped feeling amused at the thought of an avid reader and writer detesting silence so. But engulfed in it like this as he was, it mocked him. It mocked him because on quiet days like this one was promising to be, there was nothing keep him company but his thoughts. And his thoughts inevitably turned to the cause of this silence. He remembered that he was going to see Akito today. Akito. He was Domitian; calculating, dangerous, prone to sporadic bursts of cruelty and anger, rather paranoid. He increased his power and presence in the ancient world through force, and neglected the welfare of his people in the process. Who are you to judge? asked a nasty voice in Shigure's mind.
As it was, Akito wasn't expecting him until around noon (it was never wise to visit him too early in the morning), and it was only – he checked the clock on the wall – eight. Four hours. Perhaps a walk would be necessary. Better than thinking, anyway. He cleared away the cup in silence. He changed in silence. He put the old shirt and trousers in the washing basket in silence, pulled a comb through his messy hair once or twice in silence, gave up in silence, fetched his socks and a coat in silence, and descended to the porch in silence, where he put on his shoes in silence. He stared at the door for a while, as if he was expecting a familiar blur of orange hair and foul lunguage to fly through it, then turned and opened the front door to go out.
And who should be standing there, with an arm raised to ring the doorbell, but Tiberius herself; principled, hardy but sincere.
Both looked shocked to see the other for a while. The chill breeze catching at both their hair was the only movement in those seconds. Then Shigure spoke, doing his best to impersonate his usual flippant manner. "Oh, Mayu-chan! To what do I owe the honor of Her Highness' presence?" The stress he placed on the word "Highness" didn't produce much visible reaction, though.
"Save it. I came to find out what the heck is going on." There it was. Tiberius' frank, cold-edged manner of speaking. He wasn't one for scheming and politics. He put what he wanted to say out there. "I'm the Emperor. I can say what I wanna say, see if I care what you think". Somehow, Shigure was sure he would have had that manner whether or not he had become such a powerful man, he would have retained this trait. And here was Mayuko as proof, in all her non-imperial glory.
Shigure sighed and leaned against the doorframe. "Can you be more specific?"
"You know what I'm talking about. No games, Shigure."
"I certainly do. But I still need specific questions." He watched her take this with a mixture of surprise and suspicion. After a while Shigure asked "Do you want to come in?"
"Huh?"
"It's common knowledge that you utterly despise my company, but I'm getting cold. Aren't you? I think you can relent to that "hatred of my company" thing you have for a practical reason like that."
Defeated, Mayuko followed Shigure inside, surveying the traditional house on her way in. "Congratulations," she said dryly, cocking her head. "The house hasn't fallen apart." He laughed hallowly.
"Ita non vero, Tiberie," he muttered, going to the kitchen.
"Come again?"
"Do you want any tea? Coffee?"
"No". The sharp edge to a voice long tired of playing his games. She crossed her arms and leaned against the kitchen counter, and Shigure suddenly felt like a student. "I am going to ask questions, and you are going to answer them. No crap, got it?" Shigure regarded her quietly. "Where are Honda and the Sohma boys?"
Shigure answered without hesitation. "Yuki and Kyo have gone back to live with their parents." Not a lie, but not the whole truth, either.
If Mayu was surprised at his frank answer, she didn't show it. The next question was on the tip of her tongue. "And Momiji and Hatsharu?"
"They already lived with their parents, anyway". Half-true (literally). "But their parents followed en suite, and had them brought back to the estate for private tutoring also." Half-true.
"Private tutoring?" She repeated dubiously.
"Yes. Considering that soon Yuki and Kyo will be finished high school, their parents wished to have as much control over their education as possible. And Momiji and Hatsuharu's parents decided it would be better to keep them together."
"Really."
"You're free to go to the estate if you think I'm lying, you know. Just in case you think I'm hiding them all in a closet." The sentence was finished with a quip, but Shigure's voice had none of it's usual annoying high-pitched vivacity. Mayu gave him a look that was difficult to discern. But it was replaced by a harder one. Was it anger?
"Something wrong?"
She looked back up, face hard and frustrated. "Who decided this?"
Slightly taken aback, Shigure answered, "The boys' parents". Lie.
"If that is the truth, I don't like it." She was rather angry now. "They should be at the school."
The dark-haired man responded with dry humour, "Pardon them if you're offended Mayu-chan, but I hardly think you have any say in what's – "
"Oh, shove it Shigure. You know as well as I do that that tight socialitic, excuse for a mother doesn't give a damn about what's best for Yuki, and given that Kyo was allowed to live with you for so long, I doubt his parents are much better." Dark eyes stared at her. "They don't care, Shigure, and you darn well know it. They don't belong there. They should be at the school."
She ended her tyrade, slightly abashed, and looked down. Quietly, she said "You should have done more to stop this."
He didn't respond. She didn't know how true those words were. "And Honda? Where is she?"
"She has gone back to live with her family."
"Just like that?"
"They couldn't leave her with me, could they?" Monotonous. No flippance. It was the truth, anyway.
"I asked her about all this earlier, and she seemed bewildered to say the least. Did Hatori-kun erase her memory?"
Shigure was slightly amused by the matter-of-fact way she spoke about Hatori's ability. There was no point in hiding it from her though. "Yes, Mayu-chan."
Mayuko made an affirmative sound and nodded her head once. "Why?"
"It was for the best." The long-since learned-off word fell from Shigure's mouth like bitter ashes. It's for the best, the Sohmas always said. They were words one quickly grew accustomed to, along with the fact that no further information was necessary. The idea of questioning further was non-existant. It was one of the reasons that Mayu's company was so refreshing; she was about to ask another question. "If you don't trust me or my judgement when I say it was for the best, do you trust Hatori's judgement that it was?" The words streamed out, harsh and hallow. "I don't know what you're so upset about. After all, this way she'll never get the chance to "discover my true nature", will she?" As if for the purpose of effect, Shigure's face had become that of his "true nature" – cruel and cold. "How fickle of you".
Mayuko, to his surprise, didn't glare as she usually did. "Maybe." She ran her hand over the counter, suddenly becoming interested by its smooth surface. Shigure wondered briefly why she was being so . . . . . . . subdued . . . . but he dismissed the thought. He should let her go now. He didn't want to be around her anymore. He was just making them both frustrated – her for self-explanatory reasons, himself because he listened, and always knew that what she said was true, even if she herself was unaware of the extent.
"You should probably go."
Mayuko surveyed him, noting that he was dressed for the cold. "Where were you going?"
He shrugged. "A walk."
"Well, I won't keep you."
"Oh, don't worry. I'm not going for a while."
"Huh? Why not."
"We'd end up going in the same direction." She prompted him. "And I'm giving you time to get a head-start," he explained. "Would twenty minutes do?"
"Whoa, whoa! Hold on a second! I'm not kicking you off the tracks, Shigure."
"Well, there's no need. I'm forgoing my ambulatory privileges."
"I'm a teacher, Shigure. I know what that means."
He smiled wryly. "Oh? That spoils it a bit." He began to chuckle, but Mayu cut him off quickly.
"I don't mind. It's okay. I still need to speak to you, anyway."
Processing this, Shigure went to the front door, and opened it for her like a concierge. "Well, if you still need to talk to me, anyway, off we go."
She grimaced at his behavior. "So this means you don't mind walking with me, either?"
"Call of necessity, oh she of fickle trait." Finally, after this long, she glared.
"You are incredibly annoying, you know that?"
He smiled again. "And we both know that's not the worst of it."
Mayuko left the house quietly, and the walk began in a condition Shigure was beginning to hate – silence. The stillness of the oncoming winter, permeated by the crunching of leaves underfoot would usually be a haven for him, but the overexposure to sound's absence had made him sick of it. He was tempted to make light conversation purely for the sake of making some noise, charading for a while at life and vivacity, but he didn't want to make things worse. He would have prefered to have Mayuko yelling at him than endure more silence, but he couldn't motivate himself to annoy her. The sombre cloud had not been left behind at his empty house. It followed him, making him empty too. It followed him everywhere, the memories floating on the edge of his consciousness. Mayuko kept giving him strange sideway glances, so he wondered briefly if his face was beginning to reflect his thoughts. Could any face betray the master of masks?
"How are you holding up?" Her question brought him out of his reverie. He turned to her.
"Uh. What?" he asked intelligently.
Her face was challenging, yet she kept staring straight ahead down the path, not looking at him. "You miss them, right? Yuki, and Kyo, and Honda?"
"Oh? Is it not foolish to assume such sentimentality of me, the cold, untouchable Shigure Sohma?"
"Is that true, or are you just grasping for titles?" The silence plagued him again. Even the cold morning wind seemed unable to banish it. "You're not stupid. Stop pretending to be. Something's not right. I know it, and I think you do too. And I - . . . . ." She looked away. "I'm worried."
"Worried," he repeated. "About what?" She still wasn't looking at him.
"About the boys, and about Honda . . . . and about you." At this, she finally turned to him. "You're different, you know? It's as if there's a shadow everywhere around you. All of a sudden, you've become . . . . darker, something about you has, anyway. In the fifteen minutes I've been with you, you've joked, but they've been dry jokes, not stupid ones; you've answered my questions, honestly or not, straight, and you've laughed but it's been an image, a reflection, of the way you usually laugh. I had to stop you. I guess that's why I shut you up back there." Mayuko sounded slightly annoyed at herself when she said this.
"Wasn't the laughter and joking the lie all along?"
"You're more like Hatori was after – ". He inwardly flinched. "As if you've died." she said quietly. "So that's why I'm worried, more than anything else. You're acting so much like he was then. That's why I'm worried about Honda, and about you. Something . . . . . happened, didn't it?"
"Comparing me to Hatori is an insult to him – "
"Something you wish you could forget? Something she had to?"
At this point, they had arrived at the exit from the woodland surrounding Shigure's home. The wind was cold. Something else in the air was colder. They both stopped, one staring at the grey sky, the other at her companion. "She's safe now, Mayu," he said quietly to the sky. "As long as she's away from the Sohmas – away from me – she'll be safe. You don't have to worry about her anymore. And," he added, "it's certainly not your duty to worry about the likes of me."
The wind died.
When Shigure glanced at Mayuko again, she looked a little sad. "There are times," she began, "when I can't help but believe that you are a good person, Shigure." She was about to leave, when she turned back and finished, "I don't know why you keep pretending you aren't."
She left and took the path to their right, back to her parents' bookshop. He watched her back until it disappeared. No. I don't why I keep pretending I am.
He took the left path.
Nine. Three more hours. Shigure had wondered into the city by now, going nowhere in particular. Not many people wereout at this time on a Saturday morning, and the shopping districts were quite deserted. The walls of open, hopeful shops looked neglected and abandoned, yet they optimistically held out for some visitors. Shigure sat on an unforgiving iron bench, frozen and seemingly unfit for sitting, and released a long sigh. Curse this. Curse it! He was so frustrated the irony never registered with him. He wanted to scream and cry and tell the entire world about everything and go to sleep and never wake up, all at the same time. This was the worst part of having no noise. It made him think so much about everything.
Even before, when he had been using her, the noise and laughter and life in that house had helped him forget about his particular curse, his stain that was of his own making. The stain of the tainted person he really was. Having the life around him made him forget it to the point of near oblivion, and allowed him to pretend he was just a harmless, benevolent joker playing host to people who weren't welcome or happy elsewhere.
There had been times he had almost believed it himself.
His head darted everywhere and anywhere, searching for something to do besides think of this. Follow that? Better than nothing. He got up and ran towards the side street, never thinking about how strange he must look. Are you crazy? Maybe. I am having a conversation with myself, after all. He turned the corner, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of déjà vu he was getting – he pushed thoughts of that night away – and without thinking –
"Wait!" Tohru yelped loudly and dropped all her shopping when her forearm was grabbed, not roughly, but . . . . urgently. She couldn't prevent a cringe running through her, though, nor could she stop her arm from tensing up.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid! STUPID! Shigure screamed at himself. He watched the little girl surveying her fallen load in dismay. She hadn't looked at him yet, and he wondered briefly if he should simply release her and disappear before she did, but soon she turned her head and he couldn't help furtively risking a glance at her.
She was the same. A fear he had not noticed, disppeared. She wasn't different. Movement beneath his fingers, still wrapped aound her arm, jolted him back to his senses. He looked at Tohru again – really looked at her – and realised for the first time that she looked increasingly nervous, her face was contorted in what looked like pain, and the barely felt convulsions from her arm told him that she was half-attempting to pull it from his grasp, expecting him to let go. And growing more nervous the longer he didn't.
Shigure quickly released her and watched the contortion in her face dissipate, to be replaced with nervousness. Fear? It's not fear. It can't be fear. She doesn't know me, she doesn't remember –
"I, um . . . . ah! I'm very sorry, Sir." Tohru bowed in apology, speaking in a low voice filled with shame. I can't believe I just ignored him like that. I was just worrying about my groceries and I didn't pay him the slightest courtesy, oh I really am very rude how could I have been so audacious and it really was my fault the groceries fell; if I had just been holding on tighter I –
Her conversation with herself ended when two hands held her shoulders and pushed her up out of her bow until she was looking into the eyes of the tall man. "Do not apologise to me," he said, in a way that made it sound like a command. "It was my fault." Tohru was completely abashed, her tongue impossible to train into speech. She kept on nervously darting her eyes away, and, just as a catch caught on a line, being drawn back. Brown . . . Ah! Don't, Tohru! She wondered again and again if she should apologise, opening her mouth and stopping herself each time with a reminder of his command.
It was just when Tohru was becoming extremely nervous being alone in the deserted side-street with this eccentric stranger that he released her and dropped to the ground, industrially packing the fallen items back into the two bags. Tohru stared for a while, but quickly knelt down also – it wasn't right to have him at her feet, in such an inferior position, as if he was prostrating himself. And they are my groceries. It isn't right for me not to help. Of course. But . . . She shook off any thought of the uncomfortably familiar feeling she had felt, seeing the man that way.
They continued packing the two bags Tohru had dropped, he keeping his head down, Tohru's eyes darting back and forth nervously between him and the groceries, until everything was back in except a carton of milk. The man held up the sodden remains of the mangled container. "It burst," he said. "I'm sorry."
"Oh no, don't worry, it's fine!" He looked up. Abashed, she lowered her head, still mumbling assertions that she was able to replace it and it didn't matter that much . . .
The dark-haired man grabbed the two bags in one hand, sprang to his feet, and waited for her to get up too before holding them out to her. Tohru thanked him again and again as she tentatively extended her arm. "You know," began the stranger, just noticing something, "if you hadn't been holding these both in one hand, you probably wouldn't have dropped them as easily, not that that in any way takes away from my responsibility for all this." He added the last part with a smile when she opened her mouth . . . as if he knew . . . . but –
The smile. It's like a . . . . . reflection . . . . .
"Um, yes . . . thank you." She complied to hold out her other arm, and took one bag in each.
"Are you uh, sure you don't want me to replace the milk?" Somehow, he seemed to know the answer.
Tohru shook her head vigorously. "No, no! Thank you very, very much for offerring sir, but it really is completely fine. Thank you."
"Alright." The man looked as if he was about to say something else, and finally threw it out there. "It's very early for you to be out shopping on your own, isn't it?"
The girl swallowed and looked down at her feet. Quietly, so that she wasn't sure if he was able to even hear her, she said slowly, "I'm just picking up some things I forgot when I was shopping yesterday. I wouldn't be out so early but for my carelessness." Tohru suddenly became very frightened that this intuitive man who already seemed to know so much about her just by being around her would pick up on her anxiety. It was a simple question, she told herself. Calm down. Calm down. "S-sir?" she stuttered, eyes still trained on the ground, "May I go now, please?"
"Uh? Yes, yes of course. Don't let me keep you. And I'm very sorry, again."
Shigure barely had time to apologise before she darted off, a small wince shooting through her right arm with every step she took.
"That's not true, Tiberius".
In Japan, it's considered forward to make eye contact with someone one does not know. Tohru's in a . . . . . bit of a fix (I bet she thinks it's her fault!)
Okies, thanks for reading. And uh, if you're wondering, the answer is no. N and O. I know it came across that way but it's not meant to be.