Part II
xi. Masks
Kiki has often been scolded by her father before.
The head of the Seiran family seemed of the opinion that Kiki's expression was too cool and collected. The word mask had fallen once or twice, but generally she didn't take her father too seriously in that regard. It wasn't as if Kiki was hiding behind her expressionless face. It was just that she did not know what face to make when talking to other people. Her mother had been the same, her aunts had told her. She'd never shown a wide range of expressions, and she had seldom smiled. But she had possessed a sense of humor that was unique, everyone said so. And when Rosalyn Seiran had laughed, the world had held its breath. As her daughter, nobody was surprised Kiki had inherited her mother's facial features, her vacant expression and her rare smile. But she also had her mother's laugh. Smile, Katherine, her aunts used to tell her when she was young. At least for your father. Sometimes she had, but many times, she hadn't. She's like a doll, people had whispered. Like she has no emotions. The gossip hurt, but there was nothing she could do.
Masks.
Some people, Kiki knew, used masks to hide what they felt. They crafted on intricate expressions in order to bury anger, tears or loneliness, and sometimes kindness, too. Other people put on masks to display emotions they felt overly, or, sometimes, to display emotions they did not feel. Some people hid behind masks. No matter what it came down to, masks had always been used to deflect peoples' attention.
Mitsuhide was something else entirely.
Mitsuhide went and twisted around that term. He pulled everything out into the open, under the close scrutiny of the public eye, and he smiled while doing it. Mitsuhide didn't use a mask at all. Instead, he wore every emotion of his on his face. Sometimes, it was painful to watch:
Embarrassment when he didn't know what to do with his hands when ladies passed. Anger, when he was unable to protect Zen from the gossip and the evil that were human beings. Sadness at other peoples' sadness, pure joy at a sparring fight, fondness when watching Zen.
Watching Mitsuhide was like experiencing what it meant to be human. It stripped Kiki raw, left her defenseless in the face of his smile and shivering from the cold onslaught that was sometimes grief and in many more cases loneliness. Watching Mitsuhide meant feeling with him – his childish sides, his naïveté, his devotion and ever-present loyalty – and it meant getting to know him, too.
Kiki has gotten to know many people, but only with Mitsuhide she knows what he feels when she looks at him. Sometimes, not even that is necessary anymore.
xii. Cataclysm
"Mitsuhide."
"Hm?"
The midday sun is hot, almost unbearably so. In the shadow of the hallway, though, it is bearable. The ancient stones of the castle absorb much of the heat. The Wisteria, the blue climbing vines that gave their name to the Castle, are in their second bloom, hanging in thick bunches from the arcade of the open hallway. The heels of Kiki's boots echo back from the pillars that line the way.
"Where did Zen go?"
Mitsuhide, sitting in a niche of the peristyle facing the gardens, turns towards her.
"His Highness Izana called for him."
Kiki steps closer and leans onto the pillar next to him. Sun-streaks fall onto her silvery hair and dance in her eyes and she frowns. "You didn't go with him?"
"I was ordered to stay." On her face, Mitsuhide reads surprise and, to some extent, apprehension. She is right. A few years ago he would have gone nevertheless. "It's okay," he says, and smiles at her. "I can see them, there, you see?"
He waves at Kiki to come over and look from his point of view. His Highness Izana is taller than Zen, but both are blonde and broad-shouldered. They move like the siblings they are: towards each other, harmonizing, working together by opposing each other, contrasting and complementing. Their voices don't reach the archway but Mitsuhide has an eye on his liege lord, and that is what matters. (He also has Obi standing by in a closer distance, but Kiki probably knows that or guesses as much.)
Stepping back, Kiki sits down on the same window seat as Mitsuhide already sits on. He draws his knees a bit closer to himself to make room for her. It's not exactly wide, the space, but there is enough for the two of them.
"A few years ago you wouldn't have let him out of your sight." She says exactly what he thought just seconds ago, with a face so straight-forward and honest that Mitsuhide couldn't feel angry even if he wanted to. He feels the slight blush, though, that always seems so close when she's near.
"That's true. He's old enough to take care of himself when it comes to Lord Izana now, though."
Kiki smiles. "I guess." She leans forward, placing her elbows on her knees, and puts her head into her hands. "He's not the only one who has grown, huh?"
Mitsuhide smiles instead of an answer and looks over the garden, past the violet wisteria, towards the pavilion in which Zen and his Royal Brother and King are engrossed in a discussion.
"I think it's time," Kiki says, as if she was talking to herself. Listening with only half an ear, he hums a reply.
"I love you."
Mitsuhide freezes. Turns around, looks at her, and Kiki is wearing the tiny, beautiful smile he knows so well and sees so rarely. Her stormy eyes that reveal her mood every time unfailingly today are bluer than the flowers that frame her. Mitsuhide knows her face as he knows his – he has looked at her so often, studied her when he thought she wasn't noticing. Kiki is his best friend and partner, in everything that matters and much, much more. Figures that she would use a completely unpredictable moment to say such words with a completely straight face and a completely calm attitude, and expect him not to fall off his seat.
"What?" He yelps, and the undignified sound makes him blush again and even harder than before.
"I love you." She repeats it like she is repeating Zen's travel itinerary for his next journey to Lyrias and the North. Like it is the most normal thing in the world. Like this doesn't even concern them, like this won't change anything…
Mitsuhide stares at her for a time that feels longer than eternity, his heart-beat loud in his ears. Kiki's smile widens as she answers his gaze. It is as if she already knows his answer, as if she has no problem telling him these words because she knows how he will reply. It is so much like her: no fear, no second thought. She puts everything, no matter the weight of the moment, out into the open without any regard for peoples' feeling of privacy, and awaits their reaction. So many times has he watched her do it with others – even laughed about their faces, once or twice – and now she's doing it with him.
Mitsuhide opens his mouth and wracks his brain for an answer. Something, anything, to not make him look like an idiot with the face of a fish on dry land. Nothing comes to his mind. He has-
Kiki smiles again, and he gives up.
"Sheesh." Mitsuhide buries his face in the crook of his arms. "You can't just blurt out such a thing!"
She chuckles, a beautiful sound, and he suddenly realizes how close they're actually sitting. To hell with it, he thinks and looks up, catches her eyes and holds her gaze. His hand cups her cheek – her skin is soft and warm – and Mitsuhide leans forward. Kiki smiles as he kisses her, as if she always knew it would lead to this. They would lead to this.
He is falling into her.
Head first, endlessly, without any chance of catching (saving) himself. And he is not the least bit afraid.
The wisteria's sweet scent is overwhelming.
We're still breathing the same air.
xiii. Second Prince
Kiki has no idea why Obi still does it. But the shinobi seems to find it downright amusing to challenge Mitsuhide to drinking contests, wanting to see who will be the first to surrender. Kiki has joined them once or twice – she has even won, despite her being a woman – but other times she has just sat by and watched. On most occasions it was acceptable, because Mitsuhide, despite everything, is the sort of person who stopped short of foolishness. Which meant he would drink but he would limit himself as soon as he realized he was getting too inebriated to fulfil his duties. If he had to get up early the next morning, he'd drink until he felt he couldn't drink more without impairing his loyalties, and then he stopped. So, rather than a drinking game, it was more a game of endurance: who would back out first.
It has been Mitsuhide's turn to give up this time, again, and Kiki loves him for always knowing how far he can go and for the fact that he doesn't let himself be pressured into more than he is willing to do. Obi disappears after emptying his last beer – he doesn't seem remotely different than usual, just opts to take the door instead of the window – and Kiki leans back and lets the noise and the voices of the pub wash over her. From the corner of her eyes she watches Mitsuhide.
There are many people in the bar tonight.
The capital is full of merchants and artists and guests, all looking forward to the summer festivities, and the foreigners are predominant in the pub, too. Kiki can hear the melodic accent of Tanburn in one corner, while three merchants are arguing over the price of Finis wine in the thick dialect of the North. Mitsuhide swirls the golden liquid in his glass and stares into the distance, and Kiki smiles to herself and takes a sip of her own drink. It is sweet and bitter, at the same time, just as she likes it.
She likes the peacefulness. She likes being there with Mitsuhide.
She likes the way back to the castle, when it is only the two of them and the stars blink in the sky like living beings. The path to the castle is illuminated by lanterns in regular distances but the night falls between those patches of light, shadows stretching out in all directions. The air is cool and fresh, air after rain, and summer is so close Kiki thinks she can feel it. She likes the way Mitsuhide's steps next to her are silent and regular, so familiar, and how he smiles when he catches her looking at him. Kiki has to avert her eyes because otherwise… Well.
"There were a few patrons talking about Zen," Mitsuhide breaks the silence. He's walking next to her, one hand on his sword, one hand hanging at his side loosely, and he's looking at the sky. "The merchants. From Syracyse, or close to it. They were saying that Clarines had a good ruler and that the ruler had a good advisor, and he referred to Zen directly."
It is the raw pride Kiki hears in his voice, the happiness of a man who does not begrudge his lord his fame and title, that makes her smile. He's so much like a parent when it comes to Zen, even though Mitsuhide is elder brother, role model and advisor all in one, as well.
"It made me wonder." Mitsuhide stops and looks at the stars, and his voice is thoughtful and curiously light. "I wonder, how long will he continue to need us?"
Zen Skye Wistalia, Second Prince of Clarines. Their liege lord and master.
"He won't cast us aside," Kiki says quietly. Who, she wonders, will be hurt more if there ever would be a reason to separate them? Zen or Mitsuhide? Because she refuses for even one second to think that Zen doesn't love Mitsuhide with the same ferocity and devotion that Mitsuhide has for his Prince.
"Zen?" Mitsuhide laughs. "No, of course he won't." Smiling, he shakes his head. "Sorry. It's the liquor speaking. I have no idea why I still let Obi challenge me. All of us know the outcome of those games."
"My words exactly." Kiki answers drily and looks at the sky, as well. She can see the Summer Crown, right over the Phoenix. The night is clear as crystal, and Mitsuhide is besides her.
"Come on." Mitsuhide turns towards her, his smile warm and soft, and extends a hand. "Let's get back."
And because it is night, because Kiki feels the warmth of the alcohol and the smile on her face, because Zen will never cast them aside and Kiki knows Mitsuhide won't ever stop protecting him, because she can see love and kindness in his eyes like her own reflection and she can feel her heart beat steady and alive in her chest, she takes his hand.
Because it is Mitsuhide, they stay that way until they reach the Castle's gates.
xiv. Touch
She reacts.
He can see it clearly, the subtle shift of her shoulders, the ghost of something that crosses her face. Otherwise Kiki stands motionless, her hand on her sword, and stares towards the Prince they have sworn to protect and his guests. Reflections of the candle light dance on her face. Mitsuhide likes how the black and red of their uniforms contrasts with her silver hair and makes her light-grey eyes seem even greyer.
Their shoulders brush again, just barely, as Mitsuhide steps back again from having handed Zen three scrolls. It's not even a real touch – just cloth against cloth – and still Kiki shivers. Like she remembered something. A word, a touch, or maybe all at once.
She doesn't blush, but she doesn't need to. To Mitsuhide, it is obvious.
He smiles, and takes up his position again.
xv. Silence
"You really don't talk much, do you."
Hisame Lugis always had something that made Kiki feel ambivalent towards him. He was a good swordsman, a capable Guard's Captain and – as far as she could tell – a dedicated son and heir to his family. One fact that spoke for him had been his relentless pursuit of her, and his blunt honesty when it came to the question why. Of course he also was arrogant, the type of noble heir Kiki could not care less for. The type of man that believed he was a gift to the world, not the other way round, and that expected everyone to take him that way. His smile felt like needles, sometimes, because he knew how to use it to his advantage. It was different than Shirayuki's bright, sunny and honest smile, or Zen's self-deprecating smirk that contained so much humor. It was very different from Mitsuhide's embarrassed or amused expressions. Hisame excluded self-assurance while other people simply seemed…
Kind.
Kiki lifted her hand to brush away a strand of hair that had not fallen from the tight confines of her intricate braid and shifted from one foot to the other. The weight of the jeweled pins used to put up her short, silver tresses was unfamiliar, pressing down on her spine. The phantom weight of the missing sword at her side was a gaping absence.
"I don't mind, actually. It's a nice change when women don't blabber away the whole day. Sometimes I wonder how they can stand to be around themselves. Chitter-chatter all the time."
The fact was: he didn't even mean to be especially demeaning, or even insulting. He just spoke his mind. But Hisame never had learned the power that a simple word could carry, sheltered, arrogant kid he had been. Kiki wasn't even hurt by his words. She just didn't like this aspect of carelessness of his character very much.
"And I have to say, this dress fits you very well. The color suits you."
"Thank you," Kiki said, lowering her head a fraction. Hisame laughed.
"So polite. And yet you stood up to me and to your family a few years ago. If I didn't know you better, I wouldn't believe I actually fought you before, and lost."
She didn't say anything to that. Below the small balcony they were standing on, the crowd of people dancing and chatting moved like an ocean made of all colors under the sun.
"Ah." Hisame fixed his eyes on something in her back. "I guess my time with you has been regrettably cut short. It was a pleasure conversing with you, Lady Katherine. Knight Lowen. I must excuse myself. Please extend the pleasure of your presence to Lady Katherine."
He greeted the newcomer like a Captain of the Guard greets a knight, or like a Lord greets a commoner. Kiki wasn't quite sure which it was, but she could feel her eyes narrow. It was one thing for Hisame to make fun of her, but-
"Captain." Mitsuhide's voice was calm and courteous. Kiki saw him smile from the corners of her eyes: polite, unreadable.
She didn't turn around to watch Hisame leave. Instead, she waited, and then she felt Mitsuhide step closer until he was leaning on the banister of the balcony, right next to her. She knew what he was wearing: the knights' gala uniform, black and navy blue and bright red, Zen's golden sigil on the lapel, his sword – so plain compared to Hisame's – at his side. A year ago and she would have worn the same uniform, would have attended this function for the same reason that Mitsuhide was here. Kiki knew how he looked like and still she turned her head to look at him: his hair was combed back. He looked very alien, and handsome, and so very, very familiar.
"That guy never changes." Mitsuhide sighed, leaning onto the banister, and turned to look at her. "Did he try anything inappropriate?" Something in his eyes belied his light tone.
"No," Kiki said and stopped herself from reaching out for him.
"Good." He didn't go into detail.
She was used to having to look up just a tiniest bit to see his face. Now she had to look down and it was different, so very, very different despite the fact that she knew his face as well as she knew her own reflection: brown eyes, blond-brown hair, a face full of laughter and worry lines. His lips twitched slightly when she didn't say anything else, but he didn't, either.
For a while, she just looked at him. Then Mitsuhide turned around again, towards the crowd below.
"You are beautiful in this dress," he said, lightly, and Kiki didn't know what to answer. Mitsuhide didn't expect her to, probably.
Together, they watched the crowd mill in the ball room, and for the second time in her life Kiki felt like being Lady Katherine wasn't all that bad.
xvi. Dance
It is not like he dislikes them.
Somewhere along the way Mitsuhide has lost count of the many balls, dinners and diplomatic functions he has taken past in since he became Zen's knight. It is a part of the Second Prince's life: the long-winded talks, the many discussions, the gleaming ball room with its soft lights and soft music and its people, people and people. He likes to think of it as a side of the Royal Palace that cannot be separated from the aspect of authority. People of noble birth have been brought up with it. It is Zen's sense of duty, and Kiki's loyalty to her father's house. Mitsuhide's family never moved in the same circles.
(Zen is loyal to Clarines and the First Prince and the Queen and the Nobles and the people of his country. Kiki is loyal to her father, to the Seiran family and to her Prince. Mitsuhide is loyal to Zen and Zen only, and, as it is, he thinks it is enough.)
"Kiki looks like she wouldn't mind if you ask her to dance."
Obi still looks a bit strange. In Mitsuhide's mind he will always wear his shinobi gear, possibly including the headband, and dark greys and light blacks suit him better than the navy blue and bright red of the gala uniforms. The ninja is blinking across the large hall, his hair even combed for once, and when he turns to Mitsuhide halfway he has the conspiratorial grin on his face Mitsuhide has learned to identify and dread.
He follows Obi's gaze: on the other side, Kiki seems to be engrossed in a conversation with someone Mitsuhide does not know. Today, she is in a dress of the color of the ocean, simple and elegant, and her hair wraps around her head in an intricate braid.
"I don't think so."
"Huh?" Obi seems surprised that he has answered at all, or perhaps he is surprised at Mitsuhide's lack of stuttering and blushing. His head swivels: to him, then to Kiki on the other side of the hall, back to him. "What do you mean? Kiki does not want to dance or you can't? It's not like the Master will care, or anyone here."
Mitsuhide just smiles. Some things are only between the two of them, Kiki and him. Obi seems to realize that much, because he huffs and puffs and drops the topic.
"Fine. Have it your way. I still think you should ask her to dance."
Smiling, he leans back and listens to the soft music that dances in the air, all the while watching Zen move through the hall and greet the guests.
"It is over," Kiki sighs, hours later, and yanks out the pins that have held her hair up. Mitsuhide is almost sorry to watch it tumble down onto her shoulders again, free of the fragile, beautiful pins and combs. The hallway to the part of the Palace that belongs to the Second Prince is lit by lanterns and completely silent. Zen already retired for the night, Obi slinked away with his perpetual grin and Shirayuki probably went to sleep early since she has the next day's morning shift. It is only them, Kiki and Mitsuhide, and the guards at the entrance to the Palace wing. The darkness carries sound, but Mitsuhide can hear nothing but their steps and the soft rustling of Kiki's dress.
"Are you tired?"
"Only exhausted." She drops a pin and bends down to pick it up. Mitsuhide is faster, he hands her the fragile, butterfly-shaped piece and smiles. "You should get to bed, then."
"No." She stops in the middle of the hallway. "Spar with me."
He should be surprised. But honestly, Mitsuhide has known Kiki for long enough to not even be surprised by his lack of surprise. He smiles.
"You're not training in that dress, I hope."
A smile flickers over her features, lights up her eyes. "Give me five minutes."
Kiki is Kiki whether she wears dresses or her training gear. Mitsuhide does not distinguish between Lady Katherine Seiran or Kiki, his partner. He knows her polite smile, her frown, her delicate, impassive expression. He also knows her face when it is a mask of concentration, when she smiles grimly or laughs with the adrenaline rush of a fight. She is beautiful no matter whether she wears a gown or training armor.
The training hall is their world, and their swords are their voices. Under the light of the moon and the stars, far from candle-lit halls, scented air and string quartet, they dance.
xvii. Separation
When she wakes up, the atmosphere of the room is instantly familiar to her.
The scent is familiar. The windows must be open, because the soft breath of wind hangs in the air, cool on her face. Even with closed eyes, Kiki knows that Mitsuhide is there. She can feel his presence on the other side of the room, can hear the rustling of papers and the soft sigh of the wooden bench as he shifts his weight. She can imagine him: sitting on the window seat, his brow furrowed as he reads through some papers thoroughly, fully concentrated on the task at hand. And Kiki wants to open her eyes and see him there, his presence in her room having become something familiar and beloved, wants to look at him and see his smile when he realizes she is watching him. Instead, Kiki cannot move.
She cannot open her eyes. She cannot move her limbs. She can feel them, heavy and distant, but there is no response when she strains everything she has in order to call forth a reaction. Kiki is caught in a weightless limbo, somewhere between waking and sleeping. And she cannot move.
She cannot wake up. The thought is terrifying.
The last thing she remembers is the attack in the forest. She remembers the mercenaries that were, all of a sudden, everywhere, and both hers and Mitsuhide's desperate anger. Then the tunnel vision of fighting, Mitsuhide shouting at Zen to move, Zen stubbornly ignoring his knights and fighting next to them. The sight of more and more men coming at them. And then the sound of horses, orders given by the Captain of the Guard, pure relief. And then a tearing movement to her right. Suddenly Kiki was staring down at the sword that had slashed into her side. She didn't notice she had dropped her sword until it clattered to the ground next to her. Another motion – no pain, strangely, no pain – as her attacker tore back his weapon and lifted it again, she could see the sun gleam on the blade – and then a dozen arrows embedded themselves into him – and Mitsuhide's back suddenly was in front of her – and Zen was shouting – and Kiki realized she was kneeling, and there still was no pain. The only thing she saw was Mitsuhide's back and the blade of his sword that came down in a beautiful, silver arc and then Zen was shaking him, Mitsuhide, leave him, Kiki- and Mitsuhide turned around and their eyes locked. He was smeared with blood but he seemed not to have carried away any major injuries. Sighing in relief – somehow choking – Kiki relaxed, and that was when the world tilted and turned black.
And slowly, slowly and horribly, realization creeps up on her: she is alive, but she is not conscious. Except that she can hear everything, even sense, to some extent – but she cannot interact with her surroundings. It is the most terrifying revelation she can imagine. And. Mitsuhide is there, but she cannot talk to him. She knows he is close, but she cannot even extend her hand to touch him. It is worse than anything she could ever have imagined, this separation that is none because he is undeniably there and yet is so present that sometimes she feels unable to breathe. She always thought she could live without other people close to her, and then she thought she would be fine as long as Mitsuhide was alive, even if they were separated. It was a lie, desperate and foolish.
The aching pain inside her heart is worse than anything.
Kiki's body wakes up three days later. Just like that. Her eyes flutter open – the sun dances on the white curtains, the air smells like fall – and Mitsuhide drops his scrolls, blinks disbelieving at her weak moan and, without regard for her injured side, hugs her so hard she almost fades into oblivion again due to the pain. He refuses to let go of her for several minutes and Kiki does not complain: despite the hurt in her side she clings to him with every ounce of strength her small body has left, refusing to let go. Desperately trying to fill the emptiness those few days have created – trying to push him into her own body, to melt him into her until only one mind and one heart and soul remain – and slowly, slowly, the gaping ache recedes.
I wish I could have been born as Mitsuhide's heart.
"Don't ever do that to me again," Mitsuhide whispers roughly and Kiki comes back to life.
xviii. Warmth
Spring comes late that year, makes Clarines wait until early May with days of cold wind and rain while cool mists creep up from the ocean. But when it comes it seems like the world is trying to show itself from its best side all at once: flowers and birds and people, alive and bursting with energy, and colors suddenly seem so much more vivid than they have before. It came too fast, in Mitsuhide's opinion. Spring and winter at the coast of Clarines have no end and no beginning. They just merge into each other, entwined like lovers, and snow is exchanged for sun, clouds for blue skies and winter grey for spring colors.
It still remains cool, though, west wind carrying the salty air towards the castle, and the sun is weak. It is cool on the ramparts of Castle Wistalia, and the naming flowers only yet show the promise of their future beauty.
"Here you are."
Zen's voice follows the soft crunching of footfall on stone. Mitsuhide knows his Lord's steps as well as he knows his own.
"I guess you found me."
"Ah." Zen sighs and leans onto the chest-high wall next to Mitsuhide. The stone is still cold, carrying the memory of long months of winter. "I admit, you had me this time."
Mitsuhide cannot help but chuckle. "I wasn't particularly trying to hide, you know."
Zen gives a non-committal grunt. "No, because hiding from yourself is just not your style."
The Second Prince looks a bit winded. Knowing him, he has taken the stairs to the small tower platform a tad too fast, just because he likes to run.
"Whatever you are talking about…" Mitsuhide's voice trails off. He knows there is something that is bugging him, something has been for quite some time. But he had thought he would have hidden it better, or, hopefully, that nobodz would have noticed. Especially since Zen was having enough work since His Highness Izana ascended the throne, and since Shirayuki still was in Lyrias. A few months already have passed, and Zen has born them admirably. Still, Mitsuhide can see the strain in his Prince's eyes when he turns at the sound of his name and realizes it is not the person he thought was calling him.
"Kiki." Zen does not turn to him, watches a few seagulls pass over the castle with their childlike cries. "You're thinking about the things Kiki said, and you cannot ask her about it."
"I'm really transparent, am I not?" Mitsuhide cards his hand through his hair, half embarrassed, half amused at himself and this Prince whom he can hide close to nothing from. "I can't help myself."
"Only to me." Zen sighs again, dropping his chin into his hands. His voice sounds a bit muffled. "Mitsuhide. Really, do you have not realized whom she had been talking of?"
There is an idea, a tiny spark of thought, that he has pushed back into the recesses of his mind. A name, a face, something he has forbidden himself to think about. It could be so simple, really, to just ask her. But he can't. And it is ridiculous, stupid and impossible but he still finds himself wondering, just wondering…
"Kiki meant you, Mitsuhide."
Mitsuhide can't help but laugh. "Yeah, because that's possible."
Zen looks at him and does not smile. "I mean it."
"Nonsense." It is his turn to clap a hand to his face, he rubs his eyes with the hilt of his palm and tries to will away the sting of something that works its way up his chest and into his throat. "We're partners, Kiki and I. You can't know-"
"She told me." Zen interrupts him, calm and steady. "She told me, and it's the truth."
Mitsuhide drops his hands, grabs the hilt of his sword to hold on to something steady in his world. "When?"
"At the marriage proposal meeting His Highness Izana arranged for me."
It has been close to six months since then.
"No." His knuckles are white where he grips his sword. Blindly, he stares out at the ocean, but he hears only the sound of blood in his own ears. "No." He doesn't even know what exactly he is denying.
"You are remarkably stupid," Zen sighs. "What is your problem? You know her. I know you like her. You're partners, you're good together. Why is it so impossible for you to think you could be happy and together with a person who cares for you? A person that actually is by your side and you can see every day?"
He does not quite manage to conceal the bitterness in his voice. Mitsuhide hates it. He wants to hug Zen and tell him he will see Shirayuki soon. He wants to apologize for his stupidity, and for the things that are going through his mind right now. But nothing comes to his mind.
"That was uncalled for," Zen says, and his smile is back. "I apologize. But really, Mitsuhide. Don't you love Kiki, too?"
Does he love Kiki? Does he love his partner, his fellow knight? This marvelous woman who stands her ground wherever she goes, this woman who has saved him countless times, not only in battle but on even ground, as well. This woman who has shown him that she trusts him although she used to trust nobody, who has worked side by side with him for almost six years now. This amazing, amazing woman he sees every day, and who will leave, one day, to return to her home where she will take up her father's heritage and name and be Lady Katherine Seiran, not his Kiki anymore. Does he love her? What is it what he feels, this thing that makes him want to hold her and never let go? Possessiveness? Selfishness? Friendship? Is it the same, hearing it from Zen's lips, as walking up to her and asking her to repeat what he just heard? Does he want to hear it? Isn't he just selfish, stupid, stubborn and so incredibly afraid to love beyond what he could lose when it comes to her?
He thinks of the warmth in her eyes.
When he doesn't say anything Zen sighs again, but he has not lost the softness in his eyes. "I picked her for you, Mitsuhide. I knew right when I saw her that it had to be her. And I know you. Come to your senses."
Mitsuhide feels the silence that descends; this comfortable atmosphere of trust, friendship and loyalty that binds him to this Prince next to him. He would give his life for Zen, happily and time and time again. The wind is cool on his face, still carries the faint memory of winter but the scent of spring and life, as well. Together, they watch the sails of a merchant ship disappear behind the horizon, and the sinking sun drowns in the blood-red ocean. Zen turns around to leave and, in parting, slaps Mitsuhide on the back of his head.
Smiling, the knight casts one last glance over the city below, the ocean and the sky and follows his Lord back into the castle. The night air is cool and still warmer than just a few days ago.
It's not yet summer, but it soon will be.
xix. Tower
The winds were howling around the castle.
Kiki had lived in the capital all her life and she remembered harsh winters. But this winter seemed to want to become part of the chronicles of Clarines by being the coldest, most cruel winter ever. Luckily, inside the houses, it was warm. Looking outside, one could see the fires glowing in the fireplaces of the homes everywhere, from the noble's estates in the capital to the small farmer's houses in the country, and the castle was no difference.
"Poisonous roots, lethal dosis three microgram for an average male…" Shirayuki was moving her lips soundlessly, wrapped in a warm blanket on the sofa at the fire place. The fire's flames painted pictures onto her hair. Zen next to her was almost asleep, his head drooping over the final bit of paperwork for a treaty negotiation Kiki had handed him earlier that day. He was curled up on Shirayuki's side, their backs resting against each other. Kiki didn't have the heart to wake him up and force him to concentrate. The evening was old already and he deserved a break. Besides, seeing him so close to Shirayuki, she couldn't help the feeling of warmth rising in her heart. Sometimes she felt like a mother, watching her children. God, they were so precious to her.
Mitsuhide sat in the chair on the other side of the fire, a map on the table next to him, a parchment and quill on his lap. He glanced up and caught her eyes, and Kiki saw his eyes crinkle in a smile. The fire was illuminating half of his face, making his eyes black and his hair lighter. He was going over next week's scheduled journey to the estate of a minor Country Lord as well as arranging Zen's day tomorrow. Kiki knew he would manage it so the Second Prince had some free time to spar with the soldiers in the morning, and a short break in the afternoon that coincided with the lunch break of the apprentices of the Royal Pharmacy. In the flickering light, his features looked… softer, somehow, and yet sharper. His smile was small but familiar, and Kiki turned her head only when he dropped his gaze back to the papers in his lap.
"Are you still thinking of your next move?" Obi asked her from across the small table and the board of chess between them. "You have been staring at Mitsuhide quite a long time."
"I am right here," she answered and shifted a piece – her rook – along the board.
Obi frowned. "That doesn't seem like a move you would make."
Kiki leaned back. "Are you giving up?"
"No." Some time passed until Obi made his move.
Kiki moved a tower. "Check."
Obi frowned, then laughed. "Just as expected from you. Straightforward and without reserve. That's what I like about you, Kiki. And that's definitely a compliment."
"Save it," she said and toppled over his king. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Mitsuhide smile.
xx. Open Skies
Mitsuhide wakes up with a start, hand outstretched, a desperate sound on his lips, and knows he is too late. He is too late, he is useless, he has failed and Zen, Zen-
"Shh," a voice whispers and a hand brushes over his forehead. The ground underneath him is hard and uneven, earth and stones digging into his spine. "Everything's alright. Zen's fine."
Kiki is there, although she shouldn't be.
Fighting to scramble halfway upright Mitsuhide takes in the scenery: the hill with the lone tree, the ground that has been trampled by so many horses and men. It is early afternoon, both the sky and his inner clock agree, and with year-long training and finely-honed instinct he is able to not only say where he is but also why and what happened. Sighing, he drops back onto the ground, his head resting on cool earth, and grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes.
"What are you doing here? You shouldn't have come."
She completely ignores his question. He pictures her, his eyes closed: silver hair and grey eyes, fine features and slim shoulders. She's looking into the distance, over the expanse of green hills and golden fields that stretched out between their hilltop and the capital of Clarines hidden in the distance. "You should rest. You've been awake for almost two days. Don't worry, Zen's on his way back to the Castle. Obi's with him."
The Why didn't you wake me dies on his lips. Instead, he can't help but smile despite the lingering despair the nightmare has caused, despite the feeling of having failed in his duty towards his Lord. He can't help thinking of the what-ifs, the all-too-close calls, the possible disasters. What would have happened if there had been an attack. What could have happened to Zen. Would Kiki be alright again. On days like those last three days, when everything is poised on the razor-sharp edge of a sword, hovers over the abyss in the lengthened suspense of the second before the final fall, his doubts return with the strength of a sledgehammer. It is over, Mitsuhide tells himself. Everything is fine. Slowly, slowly, the anxiety ebbs away, leaves him hollow and tired to the bone and suddenly even more conscious of the presence of the person next to him. She shouldn't be there, shouldn't have come, and yet there she is. And while she came because of Zen, of course, she also came because of him, and the thought warms him from the inside. Dropping his hands from his face, he looks at Kiki. She's sitting on the ground next to him, her legs crossed, her sword ready over her knees, and for a second Mitsuhide wonders whether she is protecting him or simply does not feel safe without her weapon in her hand. Then she turns her head a fraction, her storm-cloud eyes meet his, and everything else falls away. It is like he suddenly recognizes her, or, at least, sees her for the very first time after a long separation. The curve of her neck, the sun in her hair and the line of her cheek-bones. She is familiar to him and foreign in a way only a lover can be.
Kiki's eyes open wide when she reads his mind in that particular way of hers. A few years earlier, he would have blushed crimson. But he has grown, and she always was someone who took the initiative quickly. So she leans down to kiss him, her lips sweet, warm and so incredibly soft on his. And Mitsuhide forgets everything else, strain, exhaustion, worry and doubt, closes his eyes and just holds on to the feeling of her lingering lips. Behind his closed lids, he can see Kiki's smile against the backdrop of the brilliant sky.
So incredibly, incredibly beautiful.
…
Mitsuhide wakes up with a start. His hand reaches out and a desperate sound escapes his lips and she knows he has been having a nightmare.
"Shh," Kiki whispers and brushes the back of her fingers over his forehead. It is still new, the touching, the knowledge that she is allowed to stretch out her hand any time she wants to. It is… exhilarating, and strangely terrifying. "Everything's alright. Zen's fine."
Fighting to scramble halfway upright he blinks, taking in the scene and drawing conclusions with the speed of a trained knight. The nobles and their knights have departed long ago and only a few soldiers and servants remain, clustering in groups around the last few tents, waiting for their rides back to the capital. The ground has been trampled by so many horses and men it is barely green any longer. The scent of grilled meat lingers in the air. It is early afternoon and Kiki feels the weakness in her limbs and a faint ache in her head. A week ago she had fallen violently ill, been too weak to even stand, but she had needed to come here today. Mitsuhide has covered for her for the past week, has worked almost without a pause. He looks exhausted, pale and wary and it hurts her to see him like this, but at least she sees him.
"It is fine to rest now and then." Kiki carefully models her voice so nothing of her concern can be heard in it. Refusing to look down at him, knowing he would read her heart in her eyes, she opts to look over the expanse of green hills and golden fields that stretched out between their hilltop and the capital instead. "You must have been tired. You've been awake for almost two days." Despite her resolve, her relief seems to manifest itself through unsaid words, dances in the air in front of them.
Mitsuhide sighs and swallows everything he probably had wanted to say, including his usually obligatory Why didn't you wake me. His hands fall away to reveal lines of laughter around his eyes, an exhausted frown and tiredness clear in his pale complexion. But he smiles, a twist of one side of his lips so much like him that she feels like crying. His gaze burns right into her. It is not like he suddenly recognizes her, or, at least, sees her for the very first time that day. He just looks at her with the mixture of affection, intimacy, and trust that defines their relationship. It is a lot like love and so much more, so much deeper, and it scares her to think about the impact he has on her, again and again. Because even now, tired and worn as he is, his gaze is enough to set something deep inside of her aflame and Kiki does not care if someone is still watching, if some servant will start to gossip as soon as he is back in the castle or some thing or other. She does not care for curious eyes or snickering whispers behind her back.
Mitsuhide closes his eyes when she kisses him. He tastes like ocean, like salt and eternity and Mitsuhide, and his one hand comes up to tangle in her hair carefully. It falls over his face like a curtain. She kisses him like it is the last time. And Kiki cannot think, cannot act, can only feel him warm and alive and there.
The blue skies above their heads are endless, and so are her feelings for Mitsuhide.
A/N: Misc. Information.
"I wish I could be born as his heart" - from Fruits Basket by Natsuki Takaya.
"Afraid to love beyond what I could lose when it comes to you" - line from "Chances" by Five for Fighting.
"We still will be breathing the same air." Depending on the translation, "At least, you still will be alive" has been used. When Kiki finally tells Mitsuhide that she will only remain in the castle for another year due to a promise she made to her father, Mitsuhide refuses to talk to her. She confronts him, asking whether he will not meet her eyes for the rest of her year. When he asks what she would do if he actually did not look at her anymore, she says she would not mind since they still would be together (Mitsuhide would be alive). Somewhere around chapter 38, I guess.
Mitsuhide is a member of the Knights of Seleg (Oleg, depending on the version of the chapter). His last name has been translated both as Lowen and Louen/Rouen.
When Mitsuhide and Kiki meet for the first (actually, the second) time Mitsuhide addresses Kiki as a male and offers to take her along to a public bath in chapter 42 (thinking she is a man). Zen calls him an "undisputable moron", or, depending on the translation, an "undeniable idiot". It's the attendant's arc. The first time they meet is on a official function, Kiki is wearing a dress and Mitsuhide is fleeing the masses and she does not give him her name. Later, Zen refuses to tell him who she is because he says she wants to do it herself.
Kiki belongs to the House of Seiran (Celan). She is the heiress to the title and all responsibilities and has been brought up accordingly. Apparently, she is very much like her mother regarding her way of speech, her face and her character.
Hisame Lugis is the second son of a noble family and determined to marry Kiki in order to become a member of the Seiran (Celan) House. In chapter 43 he challenges Kiki to a duel, stating that, in case she loses, she will have to consent to their marriage. When Mitsuhide interferes, he mocks him, calling him a commoner from a nameless castle. Kiki counteracts by telling Mitsuhide that Zen didn't care for his name, rank and heritage when he chose him.
"I was right to pick you five years ago." Zen says these words in Ch. 44, after Kiki and Mitsuhide return from her father whom she has asked for permission to remain by Zen's side until he has fulfilled his dream. Kiki actually answers that she was the one who had chosen them in the first place. That morning, she surprises everyone by having her hair cut, Mitsuhide tries to make Obi tell him whether the shinobi knows if Kiki has a lover or someone she likes, Obi makes fun of him and Zen is doing paperwork.