Warning: Reishin/Kouyuu. You've been warned!
Summary: Fancy summary: Unlike the Japanese, however, the Chinese see the plum blossoms as more of a symbol for winter rather than a harbinger of spring. It is precisely for this reason that the blossoms are so beloved, because they bloom most vibrantly amidst the winter snow while all other flowers have long since succumbed to the cold and died. Thus, they are seen as an example of resilience and perseverance in the face of adversity. def: Wikipedia
Quick and dirty summary: Lazulisong wanted Kouyuu to look pretty in pink.
Bloom.
"Is this a joke?" Kouyuu is not very impressed, which amuses Reishin to no end. The elegant robe that Kouyuu is holding as though it is instead some rag is hardly something to be regarded with such disdain. It has certainly done nothing (at least, nothing that Reishin is aware of) to deserve the resentful glare that Kouyuu is levelling at it. It is not the sort of thing that his son normally wears, but then, that is why Reishin ordered it. His smirk is well hidden behind his fan by the time that Kouyuu's glare rises from the robe and seeks him out instead, although at least there is a silent plea in his gaze. "I can't go out in this, Reishin-sama. I'll look like a fool."
"It was very expensive, Kouyuu," Reishin says darkly. "Do you always react so ungratefully to gifts?" The horror that fills Kouyuu's eyes in response is exactly what Reishin had been aiming for.
"It's .. it's not that it's nots very pretty Reishin-sama-"
"Then there should be no problem," he cuts in dismissively, waving Kouyuu away with his fan. "Go. Get changed. You do have to meet up with that Ran boy before the festival, don't you?" THAT brings a whole new wave of horror for Reishin to appreciate.
"I already have something I was plan-"
"Kouyuu." It is a warning and Kouyuu takes it as one, although that does not stop his son from grumbling as he escapes to his room, nor does it prevent Kouyuu from slamming the door behind him. Reishin's smirk softens into a warmer, exasperated smile, and he shakes his head wryly at the closed door.
The robes have already paid for themselves twice over.
Kouyuu, Reishin knows, will take forever changing. It is not that his son cares about superficial things, but that he is surely trying to find a hundred different ways to argue that he shouldn't wear it. Too long, too short. Surely not warm enough, much too big. Far, far too pink. His smile twists back into a smirk, although this one is slightly more reflective. Kouyuu will surely come up with a hundred different excuses to confront Reishin with, except for the one that is actually true. His son has never felt comfortable in elegance - no, that isn't quite right. Kouyuu has never felt as though he deserves or 'fits' elegance. As Reishin slides towards the porch that leads out onto his garden, momentarily distracted by the soft snow that has begun to fall all of a sudden, he wonders if perhaps Kouyuu will still refuse to wear the robe altogether.
The light dusting of snow lasts only for a few minutes, adding simply another light layer on top of the snow that already covers the garden. He has never been fond of the blanket of white that smothers everything at this time of year, stealing away all sense of colour and warmth. There is too much of an ending in winter, a silent victory there that belongs to someone else.
He isn't surprised when he realises that he has left the porch behind, has left even the small garden path, and has found himself before the only flutter of colour in the whole of Saiunkoku. The small, pink blossoms are still victims themselves of the snow, crushed shut against the heavy flakes. And, yet ...
Nothing else is in bloom but these tiny blossoms. Nothing else dares to be.
"Reishin-sama?" Soft, hesitant, unsure. Kouyuu is rarely ever any of these things, and that alone is indication enough that perhaps his thoughts have drifted just a touch further than they should have, certainly for much longer. It is unusual, after all, for Kouyuu to have to come find him. He allows one last, lingering glance up at the flailing blossoms, the delicate blooms still bruised shut just as they had been mere moments before. When he turns, it is with his fan splayed open and masking any trailing emotion that may follow him.
And they follow him.
Kouyuu stands out just as vividly in the snow as the blossoms do. His son is usually all edges and glares, wrapped so firmly in practicality and sternness that even his clothes lose all sense of shape and colour and instead make statements. Serious, his simple, unfussy robes always say. Plain. No-nonsense. Kouyuu never wears anything else, he has certainly never worn anything such as this.
The soft, dusky hue of the silk briefly matches the splash of pink that reaches Kouyuu's cheeks when he realises that Reishin is studying him. It is a far more delicate colour than Kouyuu has ever before worn, yet it is stunning against his pale hair and quiet eyes. Reishin has never been one to deny himself simple pleasures, and as Kouyuu continues to search for something to say, his eyes trails slowly down the intricate brocade pattern. The small blossoms don't seem so much as sewn into the silk as they do etched, so delicately woven that Reishin finds his gaze catching on the small designs. The tiny petals that form the hooks and clasps. The curved, wisps of a branch that skims and dips. The slowly blossoming flowers that are sprinkled throughout, vibrant purple thread shot through with the darkest of pinks. The robe itself is deceptively simple, lacing up high around his neck and skimming slim hips before splaying into the snow.
This time, however, the simpleness of what Kouyuu wears speaks something different entirely. He has never seen Kouyuu look so elegant, nor quite so beautiful.
"I realise that I look like a fool." When Kouyuu speaks, irritation blending with the faintest touch of hurt, the edges re-emerge. They do little to dispel Kouyuu's strange beauty, but then, Reishin has always believed that his son's abruptness holds a special attraction of its own. "This, this is NOT the sort of thing people like me wear." Reishin raises any eyebrow at that, although Kouyuu fails to notice his reaction - he is far too focussed on glaring at one of the sleek sleeves of his robe. His son has never been very good at masking his emotions, however, defaulting instead to abrupt glares and harsh words that any fool should be able to see through, and this is no exception. Reishin can see the quiet ache that drives Kouyuu's glare, can see how Kouyuu recognises the intracity of the pattern and the beauty of the silk all the while not being able to see either of those in himself.
"Come here." Kouyuu startles at that, and for a moment Reishin thinks that perhaps Kouyuu will say no. After all, Reishin has strayed from the path that winds through his gardens, and Kouyuu is hardly dressed for tramping through the snow. He has to snap his fan back in front of his lips when Kouyuu finally does step towards, grumbling and mumbling and stumbling, his new found elegance momentarily overruled. It will not do for Kouyuu to see the delighted smirk that his fumbling actions inspire, it is bad enough that if Kouyuu looks closely enough he will undoubtedly see the humour in Reishin's eyes.
When Kouyuu then trips, his feet tangling in some hidden root or branch beneath the snow, he is close enough that Reishin can easily steady him. That Reishin does only serves to fluster Kouyuu more, and as his son rambles on about something - quite possibly concerning how ridiculous it is for Reishin to drag him out here, although Reishin is not entirely listening - only a far stronger man would have been able deny that Kouyuu wears ruffled and embarrassed just as well as he does elegance. Reishin allows Kouyuu to ramble on heatedly for longer than he possibly should, delighting in his angrier blush that is closer now to the dark red of the brocade than the pink of the silk. It is only when Kouyuu threatens to storm off that Reishin wisps his fan shut, the sound having a hypnotic effect on Kouyuu that takes a moment to break.
"Pass me the hair tie." Reishin's unemotional words are just as abrupt as Kouyuu's heated ones were. The thin stand of pink silk has been mostly scrunched in Kouyuu's right hand, so when Kouyuu extends it to him it is with a hint of embarrassment. Kouyuu, as a rule, only wears such things when he is forced to, and only even then if someone ties it for him. For all his intelligence and cleverness, his son has never quite mastered the ability to tie a decent bow. The band that currently holds Kouyuu hair roughly away from his face is easily disposed of, spilling hair that is a strangely muted shade of green across Kouyuu's shoulders. Slowly, softly, Reishin catches the stray strands in his hands, gently running his fingers through Kouyuu's hair as he smooths them into a loose ponytail. Kouyuu stays strangely still, his quiet eyes never straying from Reishin's face even while Reishin himself concentrates on the tie. There is something almost smothering about the sudden, quiet intimacy of the moment, and it is compounded when it begins to snow once again. The light, feathery snowflakes catch in Kouyuu's hair, then on his lashes, then on the delicate collar of his robe, and Reishin is obligated to brush them each away, his fingers lingering each time for slightly longer than they should. It is the sort of thing that should cause Kouyuu to bluster and flush before moving abruptly away, yet Kouyuu still doesn't move. Reishin wonders momentarily if Kouyuu has forgotten how, at least he does until the almost hypnotic nature of Kouyuu's gaze suddenly makes the most starkest of sense. As Reishin's eyes widen in realisation, Kouyuu's fill with sudden horror in response. And then, Kouyuu is twisting and moving, words falling from his tongue in a tangled mess as he makes his way back to the path. Reishin simply watches on as Kouyuu rambles desperately about needing to get changed into something more practical/getting out of the snow/stupid root!/how he's late meeting Shuu-
"Which is why I came to see where you were." Shuuei's light, feathery voice is just like the snowflakes, although far more deceptive. Reishin has no idea how long the Ran boy has been standing on the porch, and Kouyuu's horror is only partly balanced by his relief. Now, at least, Kouyuu has an excuse to flee that makes some sort of sense, but with Shuuei sometimes the escape is the more dangerous option. It is perhaps why, Reishin thinks wryly, that Kouyuu brushes past Shuuei as opposed to stopping and talking to him. Shuuei, after all, is likely to comment at least on how Kouyuu's pretty robes match his even prettier blush. As Kouyuu disappears into the house, Shuuei's own wry grin dissipates, and he nods coolly towards Reishin.
"Kou-sama." Ah. So that is how much Shuuei saw. Sometimes, Shuuei can be just as transparent as his son is. Or, can be. Kouyuu has certainly hid this very well from Reishin's prying eyes, although perhaps it is more that Kouyuu hadn't known himself until that moment.
Shuuei, Reishin believes however, must have known about this for quite some time.
"Make sure he doesn't get lost." His equally cold response results in Shuuei narrowing his gaze, but the boy knows a dismissal when he hears one. As the other boy leaves, Reishin flicks his fan open once more, his own gaze sliding to a small flicker of movement just to his left. One of the blossoms has managed to shake away some of the snow that had forced it closed, and the petals now catch in the soft, fading light of the afternoon. The delicate shades of pink laced with rich purple are hypnotising.
They always have been.
It is hours before he returns inside.