Chapter Eleven: Sibling Bonding
Bubbles… so many bubbles… He stood on a mountaintop gazing into the sea. But it was not the sea; it was a bubbly, golden liquid that fizzled against the rocks. It seemed to speak to him: "Takaya… so many bubbles. Sweet like juice and so tasty, come and drink us in."
Grinning like some sort of idiot, he dove into the icy liquid swallowing large mouthfuls. He felt flushed and weightless. Flying through the clouds he landed on a beach made up of a salad greens. The air smelled strongly of fish; grilled steaks danced on the rocks singing Italian opera, as the amber liquid splashed upon the beach of salad greens.
A girl with dark hair and icy eyes stood before him smelling like lemons."…ja… oui, oui… n'est pas?"
The more she spoke her gibberish, the more she seemed to turn into a lemon. A bright yellow, French speaking, lemon with ice blue eyes. Chiaki then started making out with said lemon, professing his undying love.
"Takaya… drink more… drink more," Haruie giggled tossing the fizzy liquid at him. She wore a red dress that was fraying at the seams. Reaching out he touched her side, which was split open, leaking out snail shells and frog legs.
Pulling his hand away in alarm he stumbled over a boulder-sized dinner roll and fell onto the spring-mix beach. The spinach near his ear suddenly started ringing… and then it spoke to him, "Takaya! Takaya!"
Rolling onto his side with a groan, his body being shaken like an earthquake, he swatted at the delicate hand causing his stomach to roll like a turbulent sea. He hid his face under his pillow.
"Takaya!" she shouted shaking him hard. "Yuzuru is on the phone."
Cursing under his breath he muttered, "I'll call him later."
"But…" she questioned still shaking his shoulder.
"I'll call him later!" he snapped burying his head deeper into his pillows shutting out the light and the world. His body ached and his chest hurt; there was no getting out of bed today.
He heard his sister - yes… his only sister - sigh and the bed shift. She spoke softly to Yuzuru over the phone and left the room closing the door behind her.
Breathing in relief he curled into a tight ball willing his tormented stomach to calm down. His head felt like the bass drum in a marching band. The physical aliments he was able to deal with, to rationalize. Drink too much hung over. The mental, heart wrenching, feelings were harder to accept.
"Bastard…" he muttered quietly feeling tears cling to his lashes. Last night he had shed so many he was certain there were no more. Too bad he had been wrong. Closing his eyes tight he willed himself back to sleep, back to a dreamland that was much less painful than reality.
The smell of cigarette smoke, expensive cologne, musk and sex mingled in his nostrils creating an intoxicating scent that made him a trifle bit more submissive. He was on his hands and knees like the dog he never wanted anyone to know he was. Moaning and arching his back as Naoe suckled his neck. Two slender fingers worked their way in and out of his backside hitting a spot deep within making him shudder and moan.
"Naoe…" he screamed as those fingers twisted and slid deeper.
"I'm going to take you now," the older man whispered in his ear dipping his tongue into the delicate shell.
A shudder coursed through his body as said man pushed on his shoulders making him sink into the mattress and arch his back more. Naoe positioned himself against the tight ring and then rammed forward encasing himself in Takaya's body to the hilt.
He let out a deep moan and shuddered at being filled. "Naoe, Naoe…" he chanted as he rocked his hips back and forth on the cock buried deep within him. "Harder… faster…"
His servant did as instructed. Thrusting back and forth in a harsh rhythm that made the boy beneath him writhe in ecstasy.
Suddenly he pulled out, much to Takaya's dismay. Looking over his shoulder, eyes hazy, at the perspiring man behind him, he whispered his name. "Naoe?" he asked wiggling his bottom, begging for more.
He was rewarded with a firm slap then flipped to his back; Naoe once again penetrated him. Grunting in a mix of pleasure and pain Takaya wrapped his legs around the man's waist drawing him deeper. "Harder!" he gasped.
Velvety lips assaulted his as Naoe's thrusts deepened with more force. He bit Takaya's lip then soothed it with his tongue. Slender fingers wondered between their bodies to grasp his aching erection and jerk it roughly.
He let out a scream as he came spilling himself upon his belly and Naoe's hand.
"Takaya! Takaya! Oh Takaya…" Naoe moaned in his ear yet it sounded slightly feminine.
"Takaya… wake up!" She shoved at his back. Peeling open one eye he realized several things. One: Miya was once more waking him with the phone in her hand. Two: he still felt hung over and about ready to throw up. And finally three: he had just had a very erotic wet dream about Naoe and was sticky from his belly downward. Thankfully he had been sleeping on his stomach.
"What?" he snapped irritated and embarrassed about the situation.
"Phone," she said holding the device out to him.
"Take a message." Grumbling he shoved her from the bed.
"Hey! I'm not your secretary." He ignored her outburst. "Takaya!"
"Go away, Miya," he said waving his hand in her general direction.
"Oh! You are such a jerk." At that statement he heard her stomp from the room.
Sighing in relief he peeled himself from his bed sheets and went to take a shower. Cautiously he opened the door into the narrow hallway checking both directions for Miya before darting – naked – to the bathroom. Once there he locked the door and sagged against the wooden surface with a deep sigh.
"Damn you, Naoe," he muttered barely audible blowing stray locks of hair out of his face. "Even in my dreams you torture me."
Placing his hand on his stomach he winced at the stickiness. "Eww…" he muttered turning on the shower. Quickly washing his hands he brushed his teeth giving the water time to warm up. As steam filled the tiny room he finally stepped under the heated spray.
Warmth soothed his aching muscles and seemed to calm his rolling stomach. Mechanically he washed his hair and shaved his face in the shower mirror suction cupped to the wall. When all was said and done he simply stood under the spray of water, face pressed into the cool tiles.
How could he have been so damn stupid? He actually let Naoe kiss him; a real kiss with parted lips and breathy moans and dancing tongues. And he was fully prepared to take that kiss even further, but Naoe stopped. The bastard actually stopped! After a supposed four-hundred years of sexual frustration and torment one would think that Naoe would have taken him in the front seat of his car like a lusty teenager. But he didn't. He stopped.
Is it true then… he doesn't want me… he wants Lord Kagetora? The last time he acted so rash was in Kyoto. He actually had me pinned to the bed with his hands down my pants and then… the only reason he stopped then was 'cause of…
Shuddering he hugged himself feeling cold despite the heat of the water streaming over him. He refused to think about the memory that had surfaced during that event. Was Kagetora actually… rapped? Was I… if I am Kagetora like they tell me I am? Shivering he sunk to the floor of the shower drawing his knees to his chest.
Squeezing his eyes shut he tried to block out the four… no five faceless men pawing at him. Their words, undeterminable, sent fear coiling through his belly, immobilizing him. Heart beating erratically, panic started to well within him making him dizzy. His vision blurred and body shook, as he emptied the contents of his stomach not once, but three times.
Curled into the corner of the shower, watching the last traces of bile wash down the drain; he had lost all track of time. His fingers were wrinkled so it must have been at least twenty minutes or more, so he assumed. Leaning his head against the tiles he sighed.
Do you truly care for me, Naoe? Is that why you stopped? Are you better than those men? Rubbing his face vigorously he slowly, cautiously, climbed to his feet. You are better than them… of this I am sure, but why… why… if you wanted it so badly before… didn't you take what I was offering? I just… I just… don't understand…
With a deep sigh, making him feel like he truly was over four hundred years old, he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. He ran a towel over his body then just as quickly as he entered he left the bathroom.
Upon entering his bedroom, he flung open the closet doors and gazed at the articles of clothing before him. One was separated, hanging apart from the others in an almost reverent fashion; a dark gray suite jacket that was several sizes too big for his slender frame. Hand trembling he reached out and stroked the sleeve. The expensive fabric felt like velvet underneath his fingertips.
Gently he pulled it from its hanger and slipped it onto his bare skin. Cuddling into it he breathed deep hoping for any last lingering traces of Naoe's sent. It had been months and the alluring smell had disappeared long ago, but sometimes, he felt, if he breathed in the fabric hard enough, he could smell it. That mix of cigarettes, cologne and skin.
"Because… because… I love you…"
With a deep sigh he dropped his hands to his sides idly plucking the cuffs with his fingers. "Liar," he muttered wrapping his arms, and the coat, tightly around his naked skin. If you really loved me… you would have… He paused troubled by where his thoughts were going. What did he really want Naoe to do? And was he truly prepared to give it to him?
Grumbling he yanked the coat over his head effectively hiding his face. Inhaling deeply, the only thing he smelt was his shampoo. With a sigh he pulled the jacket from his body and hung it up. Tenderly he smoothed the wrinkles and separated it once more from the rest of his clothes.
Fifteen minutes later he was dressed and running a comb through his hair. Leaving his room wearing jeans and a white button down, he entered the hallway only to hear the faint sounds of female laughter. Perhaps Miya had invited her friend, Yumi, over? Sighing in disdain – Yumi had an obvious crush on him – he walked down the hall and into the common area of the apartment.
He nearly turned around and ran the other way, but ice blue eyes had spotted him and pinned him in place.
"Good morning, Takaya!" his sisters beamed in unison.
She stood first and greeted him with a bow. She wore a pair of brown corduroy pants and a mint green sweater with hood. A long blue, green, and white-striped scarf with orange fringe hung around her neck; her hair was in a ponytail tied loosely at the nape of her slender neck. A pair of electric blue socks with vibrant strawberries peeked out from her house slippers.
"Good morning, Takaya," she said softly with a smile. Something tightened in his chest as he stared at her so soft and casual and warm; so inviting. Why was he drawn to her in such a manner? Why did he simply want to fall into her arms and have her comfort him?
"Mornin'…" he murmured gazing at her and the few locks of raven hair that fell across her face. He took a step away from her. "What are you doing here?"
"Takaya!" Miya piped up her tone scolding.
For the first time he looked at her, the only girl he thought himself related too. They were so different, he noticed. Hanairo liked bright, sometimes offensive – case in point of lime green socks – loud colors. Miya was more subdued. Soft pastels and creams and always very feminine clothes; she preferred skirts to pants. Hanairo was always in pants except for their first meeting at school when she had to be in uniform. She was also slightly taller than Miya. They had roughly the same hair color and both were pale skinned. Hanairo's eyes were blue; Miya's dark brown.
They both liked cats. Miya was a decent cook and Hanairo was a cook. She was older, too. Miya was soft-spoken and gentle with a pure smile. Hanairo, well, she certainly was not soft-spoken and definitely not gentle like Miya and her smile was just plain evil.
Scratching his head he blinked at her. Well, evil probably wasn't the right word for her smile. It was simply… unsettling. There always seemed to be something behind that smile and he was not so sure he trusted it. In all honestly he knew very little about her. She was a cook, yes, and worked in France and "died" sixty years ago; other than that… she was a mystery.
So perhaps, underneath her smile, she was a bit more like Miya than he thought?
"Takaya!" she shouted snapping her fingers right in front of his face. "Yo!"
Then again maybe not.
Frowning he swatted her hand away. "What?" he grumbled.
"You zoned out. We were concerned," she chuckled softly.
Narrowing his eyes at her, his frown deepened. "Why are you here?"
"Takaya! I can't believe you're talking to your girlfriend like that."
At that moment not only did he feel slightly ill with a thudding head ache, but he also felt like he had just been pummeled to the ground by a 250 pound line-backer.
Eyes wide, voice cracking as he shrieked, "WHAT?!" he tried to figure out exactly how to stop said line-backer. "My… WHA?!" Quickly he glanced back and forth between both girls hoping they would explain themselves to him.
Unfortunately all they did was giggle.
"Heehee… he reacted just the way you said he would, Amiee."
Blinking once, twice, three times at the duo standing before him he realized one thing. They had conspired against him! Evil wenches had tricked him into a mental "spaz" if one will.
Glaring, hands on hips, he snapped, "Excuse me?"
Grabbing her brother's arm, Miya squeezed and smiled up at him. Giggling she said, "Don't be mad, onii-chan. We were just teasing you. It's pay back for making me your secretary this morning and then yelling at me!"
"I didn't yell at you," he said softly.
"I know, but still. I'm not your answering service," laughing she released his arm with one more affectionate squeeze. "Besides… it was Amiee's idea."
Oh yes, he figured that. Drawing his eyes away from Miya he looked at the woman before him. "And what did Amiee introduce herself as?"
"Your girlfriend," the blue-eyed wench beamed much to Miya's giggles.
He, in turn, could barely contain a growl.
"I'm teasing, Takaya, sheeze! I simply told Miya that I was a classmate. That, and, Helena was my cat who had run away a few days ago. You found her and only the day before yesterday did we both realize we had the same cat. And since you returned my beloved feline to me… I took you to dinner to thank you. Now I'm here this morning 'cause you promised to take me to tea."
Blinking at her brilliant, and perfectly believable excuse, he could simply say, "Okay. Yes."
"So are you ready then… to go for tea?" she asked sweetly jingling her keys in the pouch of her sweater.
"Um… yes…" he muttered still slightly dazed and confused.
"Excellent!" she beamed heading for the door. "Miya… I will be sure to give Takaya that cookbook for you. You'll love it. And if you need any help, be sure to ask!" she winked.
"Oh thank you, Amiee! I can't wait."
The pair of women were silent for a moment both starring at him.
"Takaya," Miya asked tugging on his sleeve. "Are you okay?"
Blinking himself out of his daze, he patted the top of her head fondly. "Yes. Fine. I was just… still half asleep when this all happened. I'm fine." Stepping away from her he pulled a heavy, gray, wool sweater from one of the kitchen chairs as well as his wallet and keys.
Walking over to his "other" sister he pulled on his sneakers and bid Miya goodbye. "I'll see you later, okay?"
"Yep!" she waved. "Have fun! Bye!"
At that they left.
As they made their way down the apartment stairs - Takaya pulling his sweater on in the process - glared daggers at the back of her head.
"I can't believe you told her that."
She snorted. "Oh yes… and what was I suppose to tell her? That I was your long dead sister from four hundred years ago? Heh… that would have gone over real well. Idiot," she muttered heading for her car. "Besides… I think it was a perfectly logical excuse, don't you? Helena comes in so handy sometimes."
At the bottom, eyes glued on her vehicle and the surrounding area, he asked, "Where is Helena, by the way? I've not seen her since yesterday morning."
Hands stuffed in the pouch of her sweater, she shrugged. "She is anywhere you want her to be." At his blank stare she elaborated. "She's probably in my apartment sleeping, but if you want her, call her, and she'll come to you in a flash of spiritual flames. You know the ones I'm talking about."
"Yes… what she appeared in yesterday morning?"
She nodded. "Yep! But… don't call her now, kay? She's a terrible car traveler and we have a long ways to go."
He wrapped a red scarf, which had been stuffed in the sleeve of his sweater, around his neck. "A long way… for tea? What… are we going to China?"
They both climbed in the tiny car.
"There's a tea shop just down the street from here."
"Oh please, brother," she snorted buckling in. "I'm a chef. A great chef! You think I… with my refined palate… would settle for some run of the mill tea? Oh no, no, no!" she said, her tone haughty.
"I had no idea," he muttered sinking into his seat, "you were such a snob."
Chuckling she pulled away from the curb. "Only when it comes to food. And snob is such a harsh word… I prefer the term 'foodie'."
With a casual wave of his hand, he gazed out the window wondering upon their destination. "Whatever." At least it would be a bonding experience.
Long road trips tended to have one of two affects on the people involved in them. They could, A: become annoyed to the point of insanity or B: bond and never want to leave one another ever again. Takaya was leaning a bit more towards option (A) when it came to his adventure with Hanairo. However, fearing for ones life at every pass and turn was also included in his choice.
He found that his sister was a rather impatient driver. She liked to ride people's bumpers, flick her lights, honk her horn, make obscene gestures and swear; boy did she swear! Too much time in a kitchen, she had said, when he commented on her language. She also drove incredibly fast, whipping about dips and bends in the road to the point where Takaya feared she would roll the car.
And yet, despite all of this terrifying driving she seemed to be in complete control of the car. She deftly steered them out of the city and into the more rural parts of town.
When he asked where they were going she simply said, "You'll see!" in a rather sing song tone.
They were, on a level, bonding so option (B) was still open. Takaya learned a few interesting tid-bits about his sister that he had not known before. Like her music choices. She listened to all kinds of music. Now, generally when one said they listened to "all kinds" of music there tended to be a few exceptions, but not with Hanairo. She liked American Country and Blue Grass, Reggae, hard Alternative rock, whinny British bands, Rap, New Age, Classical like Naoe, French rock, J-Pop, Indie, Emo, and everything else under the sun.
And he honestly did not mind the variety; it was the spice of life, after all. Plus it was nice to hear a wide range of music. Annoyance and insanity set in, however, when he found out she was an avid song skipper and CD changer.
Generally, on each CD she put in, they would listen to, at the max, four songs before she would fumble around – swerving slightly on the road – for another CD. Then she would repeat the process. Sometimes they would only listen to one song or part of it before she changed it.
After five minutes he wanted to smack her hand.
After six minutes he wanted to break her CD player.
After seven minutes he wanted to break her fingers.
After eight minutes he wanted to break her CD player and her fingers.
After nine minutes he finally took her CD - Snow Patrol – and chucked it out the window.
After fourteen minutes she stopped screaming.
Her ears turned red, he noted, when she screamed.
A little less than half an hour later they arrived at the base of a snowy hill. Stepping out of the vehicle, hands on hips, she beamed up at the small building tucked into the side of the hill. "Well… we're here!"
"Thank God…" Takaya muttered resisting the urge to kiss the ground. Instead he gazed up at the ancient structure before him. It was a small, rectangular building made of stone no larger than a two-bedroom house. Snow covered trees and plants encompassed the house in an intricate garden design.
"Well…?" she asked gesturing towards the salt-covered, steps leading towards the tiny structure.
With a nod he followed her up the forty steps and into the wintry garden. "I can't believe," he puffed out gazing down at the car at the base of the hill. "You brought me to a real tea house."
"You haven't been?" she asked, puzzled. Her eyes, he noticed, were nearly the same color as the frozen pond a few paces away.
"No. I've never even sat through a tea ceremony." He stuffed his hands self consciously into the pockets of his jeans. He felt a faint blush creep into his cheeks.
A gentle breeze blew through the garden lifting their hair. He watched, momentarily transfixed by the dancing, raven locks against pale skin. He blinked as she laughed.
"You have too. You've been to so many tea ceremonies I don't think I can count them all!"
"Well…" he grumbled staring at the door as it slowly slid open. "Not that I remember."
Her eyes gentle, she smiled warmly at him. "You'll remember this one."
He snorted at her annoyed by the fluttering of kinship he felt towards her.
A tiny, elderly woman appeared in the doorway of the teahouse. She wore a pale green kimono with a pink obi. She smiled softly, wrinkled cheeks puckering, as she stepped aside and bid them to enter.
Hanairo slipped her shoes off at the door, clasped her hands at her chest, and bowed deeply. "Kimakou-sama… it is a pleasure to see you again."
Kimakou bowed in turn. "Amiee-chan… so nice to see you again."
Hanairo bowed again.
Takaya followed his sister's example and removed his shoes then bowed at the woman.
"Welcome," she said returning his greeting. "The room you requested has been arranged for you, Amiee-chan."
"Thank you. I appreciate it."
The elderly woman turned her brown eyes on Takaya. "I shall show your friend the changing rooms. This way," she motioned the sleeve of her kimono dancing in the air.
"Changing rooms…" he echoed gazing at his smiling sibling.
"Yes. We are not properly dressed. I'll see you in a few minutes, okay?"
"Okay…" Hesitantly he followed the older woman down a long hallway effectively loosing sight of Hanairo.
"Your host will be with you shortly," Kimakou smiled and slowly slid the door of a tiny tearoom shut. Takaya, dressed in a rich, azure blue kimono with powder blue obi, swept his gaze around the small room.
It was practically barren save for four tatami mats, two cranberry-colored pillows – facing each other – and a short, wooden screen. A small hearth was catty-corner to the cushions. Steam rose from the cast iron pot positioned over the coals. A set of dōgu, or tools, rested in a precise order around the hearth and screen. A wall scroll with the kanji for ' wisdom' hung on the wall to the right of the pillows. A simple bamboo vase sat under the scroll holding a single branch of winter, apricot flowers.
Sighing to himself he wondered where his sister was. Then, at the very same moment, he wondered when he had actually started to think of her as his sister. Of course he still knew so little about her, but he felt a deep connection to her. It was the same feeling he held for Haruie, Nagahide and, yes, even Naoe; the simple feeling of 'yes, I know you' and 'yes, you belong at my side'.
But a connection does not always mean trust and he did not trust her. At least he didn't think he did. After all it took him several months to warm up to the others; it would probably be the same with Hanairo.
If only he could remember her! All of the muddled feelings inside his chest would melt away if he could simply remember her.
Sighing once again he took a few steps towards one of the cushions when the screen directly in front of him opened and Hanairo stepped over the threshold. She, though dressed in a pale blue kimono with azure obi, stood with the regal refinement of a queen. Her wild raven locks were pinned into an intricate twist upon her head with only a few baby soft wisps falling in her face.
Smiling she walked towards him. Gesturing to his cushion she said, "Sit. I shall start the ceremony."
"You are my host?" he asked, puzzled.
"I am."
As Takaya knelt upon the pillow Hanairo proceeded to clean her utensils and check the water over the hearth.
"I did not know you knew how to perform tea ceremonies?"
"Did you know," she said her voice and movements soft and calm like a whisper, "people generally do not talk during a ceremony?"
He felt the embarrassing blush all the way down to his toes. "Oh…"
After wiping her tools clean with a small cloth tucked into the obi of her kimono; a paper fan was in the breast fold of her garment as well. She added a small amount of green tea powder to a brick-colored bowl. Elegantly she poured water from the kettle and, using a bamboo whisk, beat the tea to a gentle froth.
When finished she presented the bowl to him. "Please. Enjoy."
Tentatively he took the vessel and spun it around in his hands three times then, hiding his mouth, took a sip. "It's delicious. Thank you."
She smiled brightly and for the first time since she started the tea ritual she looked like Hanairo and not an elegant Japanese lady. But she was once, he had to remind himself. She was trained to be a proper lady and serve her husband. She was also a pawn in a war game just as he was. That thought made his chest tighten.
"I'm glad you like it. I made sure," she said taking a sip of her own tea, face rapt with enjoyment. "That this would be a casual affair. I did not get into all of the proper details required of a perfect tea ceremony. I thought it would be too much for your first time."
"I thought you said I had been to dozens of them?" he asked, puzzled.
"Oh you have… but… not in this life. Not as Takaya."
"Oh…"
After a moment of silence and quiet enjoyment of their tea he asked, "Where did you learn this?"
"Well… it was part of my training four-hundred years ago. To be a proper lady… I had to entertain my husband's guests. I needed to know how to receive them, entertain them, look after every ridiculous whim they may have had and yet do it all without speaking too loudly, walking too quickly or with too large a step and even without exposing too much of my skin.
"Tea ceremony, of course, was one of those things. I also learn calligraphy, watercolor, needlework, how to play the biwa, fans… song and dance… and a number of other things. All of this to please my husband."
"Your husband… Lord So…"
"Hush!" she hissed holding up her hand. "Do not speak his name."
She glared darkly at him; her eyes the color of ice. Though her stare was lethal her skin was ashen and her hands shook slightly in her lap. Naoe had told him what happened sixty years ago, but for some reason, he needed to hear it from her.
"What happened to you…?" he asked his voice full of concern.
She blinked at him, slowly. "What happened to me? What happened to me…" Pausing she shook her head and that smile, the smile that made his insides crawl, appeared on her lips. She snorted. "I was left to die."
"No… Naoe said we…"
"Oh did he? I'd forgotten how convenient it was for you to turn that memory of yours on and off. I mean I know you awakened in Neko… and more in Kyoto… but for some reason you recall nothing of what happened to me. Heh… so strange."
"Look I…"
"No!" she nearly screamed ramming her index finger into the mats. "You look! You look into my eyes and realize that I survived. I passed your sick test, brother. I made myself worthy. I survived. But nothing… nothing… is ever good enough for you. Nothing. Now, my darling, I know why Naoe is so insane."
Blinking, mouth agape, he could do nothing but stare at her.
She sighed and shook her head. "I'm so sorry. That was very rude and uncalled for. You don't remember. You… you are not Kagetora, are you, Takaya?"
Looking up at him she smiled softly. Closing the space between him she touched his cheek adding to his shock. "You are not Kagetora… at least not fully… and I should not take my rage out on you."
Moving away from her touch he asked, "You hate Kagetora?"
"No. But I blame him. I blame you… you and all your coldness and unwillingness to let anyone know what's going through your mind. I hate it. Had I been informed of the on goings of that day... what happened to me probably would not have occurred."
"W-what… do you mean?" He asked puzzled by the sadness in her eyes.
Sighing deeply she shook her head. "It was a trap. A trap designed to lure you and the army out of hiding. They were after you. I could sense the way the men were moving about that cursed building and I had to warn you. But you put me into hiding; I was never allowed to help. You knew of the trap, however, and were prepared for it. I was not informed of that little tid bit, and, once out of hiding, I was captured." With a casual wave of her hand she said, "The rest, you know… is history."
"But I was trying to protect you!" he shouted much to his own amazement and hers.
Momentarily shocked they gazed at each other in silence.
One corner of her mouth kicked up and she smirked. "Heh… where you now? I fear though, dearest Takaya, that you do not recall exactly what happened."
He opened his mouth to reply when she smiled softly at him; that same smile that made him want to reach out and hug her. Crush her slender body to his and never let go.
"In all honesty, Takaya, it really doesn't matter. I'm alive… and I got to go off and do all the things that I always wanted to do. We, as possessors, are so fixated on the past. We simply can not move forward because… in essence… our lives stopped on the day of our death and trying to live past that is nearly impossible. All of the feelings… all of the thoughts… they never go away." She suddenly giggled and grabbed his hand giving it a solid squeeze.
"We are the world's biggest grudge holders."
Unable to resist he returned her affectionate squeeze before releasing her hand. "I just…" He paused swallowing hard unable to fully confess his thoughts.
"What?"
Sighing he said, "Wish I could remember. I don't understand why, if I am Kagetora, I sealed off my memories."
She shrugged her slender shoulders and sighed. "I could not tell you that. I have guesses. Like… you wanted to be normal? Perhaps, like me, you wanted to leave the whole possessor bull shit behind you and live like a normal person. Or… perhaps you were simply trying to stop a cycle of hate and loathing."
A shiver coursed through his body and he knew instantly what, or more importantly whom, she was talking about. Naoe…
"Do you love him?"
Gazing into her eyes, his hands shaking, he said, "No."
"Do you want him?"
"No."
"Do you need him?"
"No."
"Then why do you keep him at your side. If, by what you've just stated, you have no use for him… why keep him? Let him go and end your misery and his."
She gazed at him so fully almost as if peering right into his soul. It unnerved him and he wished with all of his might that he had not started to confess any feelings to her. His sister was far too perceptive.
He blinked at her. Even with her sudden outburst he still could not seem to shake the feelings he held for her. She had a right to be angry with him, he supposed. He really did not know the whole story. And, in all honesty, the more he found out about Lord Kagetora and his past the more he wished that he could forget.
"Well… why do you keep him?" she prodded, suddenly interrupting his thoughts.
Started from his musings he spit out the first thought in his head, "Because he's mine."
Reaching for her teacup, she smiled softly. "Heh… so I see, so I see…" Taking a long drink she beamed that bright, Hanairo smile at him. "You truly are my brother after all."
Authors Note: Hiya! Well… another chpt said and done. So sorry it took me SO much longer than a month to update. I recently moved (several states from where I resided before) and started a new job. Stuff like that can be hectic for awhile. But I'm back now!
I hope this chpt turned out okay. It kinda took a different turn that what I had originally mapped out in my head. But I like it. Yeah… it's a little dark… sorta. Haha! You start to realize that, despite himself, Takaya is becoming attached to Hanairo, which is good on a level. And… well… you also learn that she's kinda crazy and has some issues… what are those issues? Um… don't know yet! Haha!
Why do we have Takaya angsting and not Naoe? Well… um… I dunno! Haha! I try to write from only one person POV in each chpt. Sometimes it's Naoe, most of the time is Takaya and a few times it's Chiaki. When it's a group… like in the previous chpt… I do a lil Takaya POV and then some 3rd person. Easier for me. ANYWAY… so since this was all about Takaya… I figured we could angst the crap outta him. And boy did I ever!! I hope his thoughts in the shower weren't too much. I was trying to be vague, cuz I know, for awhile, that that "nightmare" was vague to him as well. So… I really hope that turned out well.
Oh but did you, my darling readers, get a nice dose of smut? Heehee! I love writing sex scenes. They're amusing. I figured Takaya would like it a lil rough; I hope so too cuz of what I know of Vol 20 he gets it rough. But if you guys didn't notice… I did… because of that dream… bump up the rating. It is now M for Mature. There will be a few more polite porn scenes in the near future. fangirl squeal
Thank you once again for reading. And thanks to EVERYONE who reviewed, I'm glad ppl enjoy my work. It keeps me writing.
Happy Reading! Ana
Next Chapter: Oda's Search – The Eye of Hinotama
"It is a talisman of immense power."