Author's Note: I tweaked this chapter left and right, and I think (hope) it finally flows right. I'm sure you'll let me know otherwise. XD Enjoy the latest installment as I brace myself for any in-coming missiles headed my way... Constructive Criticism is always welcomed!
Ceteris Paribus
Chapter Six: Game of Elimination
What had initially begun as resentment at being in each other's presence had gradually evolved into a comfortable state of co-habitation. They had learned to live "around" each other, each one going about their day in a similar routine that kept them out of each other's hair, constantly on the periphery. Even though they played their strategy games, it was more of a test of the other's aptitude, cunning, and daring that they enjoyed. In some ways, Mako had learned more about Takeru by playing a board game than her father's palace guards ever had by their more forcible means. In the same way was Takeru able to learn about Mako, discovering more about the breadth and depth of her mind than her sister or childhood attendant would ever be able to decipher.
The games were engaging, devouring time at a rapid pace that left neither at a wont for other entertainment.
The quiet times in between their games: reading, eating, sleeping, and the like, were peaceful if not still slightly guarded. Neither felt that they could truly relax their watch around the other, but they were no longer suspicious every single minute of every single day. It had come as a great relief to both when they had discovered this. With this realization, however, had come a bit of alarm. Why was trusted instinct urging to "let go" when a possible enemy was positioned just within hands reach?
Still, the sun and moon would rise and fall with each passing day. Time slipped by, creating a comforting pattern in their lives.
And then they had touched.
Not intentionally, of course. It had all happened too fast for either to make the conscious decision to make an active movement, but the touch had happened. And with it had come new sensations that both were unprepared for, ambiances that had left them startled. Leaving them shaken out of the comfortable, the known.
Now they tiptoed around each other, questions bouncing around in their minds that seemed would go on forever unanswered.
She could not ask, he would not answer.
Their new, odd behavior did not go unnoticed. On the contrary, those close to them wracked their brains as to what could have changed the situation so suddenly, but they refused to comment on the subject.
It left the atmosphere between the pair charged, leaving those around them on edge.
Kotoha and Chiaki escaped it when they could by taking long walks around the women's inner sanctuary, delaying their returns as long as they could though neither ever openly stated this.
Ryunosuke and Genta, on the other hand, spent more time with the two as they tried to decipher the quick, darted looks, the tense shoulders, or interpret the vague answers and their possible meanings. Both were determined to get to the bottom of the new situation; time would soon be running short and neither party could afford to have inconvenient conditions arise to meddle in their plans.
So when Takeru's hand moved to turn a page in his book, causing Mako to tense at the sound, Ryunosuke noted his charge's movement with both a watchful eye and an exasperated sigh.
"Is something bothering you Hime?"
Mako shook her head, her cheeks slightly flushed. "Not at all." She smiled brightly to cover her white lie. "Why do you ask?"
Ryunosuke opened his mouth to state the obvious, thought better of it and closed it shut again. "You've been…quiet lately," he hedged.
"Just thinking," Mako answered off-handedly.
Ryunosuke contemplated how much it would hurt his head if he slammed it down on the table in front of him in vexation. "I see," he answered instead. He briefly glanced over at Takeru, but the man was firmly engrossed in his book, or at least was doing his damnest to pretend to be. He knew it would do no good to even try to ask him; Genta had already spoken with Ryunosuke and said he had about as much luck getting anything out of Takeru as Ryunosuke had with Mako, which meant zilch for either of them.
"Is there anything I can…help you with?" Ryunosuke tried again.
Mako shook her head. "No, I think we are all set for now," she assured him.
This time Ryunosuke let out a quiet sigh, causing Mako to raise an eyebrow in question. "Then I'll be back shortly," he informed her, pretending not to see her inquiring gaze. "I have a quick errand to run. Should you need anything…"
Mako smiled though her expression was still puzzled. "I'll be sure to let you know."
With a respectful bow, Ryunosuke retreated from the room. He had every intention of finding the new, jovial cook to compare notes and see if they could come up with any creative ideas for handling the new situation. As he was about to exit, a quiet knock sounded at the door. He opened it to see a palace servant holding a tray in hand.
"Hime?" Ryunosuke called. "Your afternoon tea is here. Shall I…?"
Mako waved him off. "I can handle a few tea cups and kettle on my own," she teased.
Ryunosuke's mouth quirked up into an answering smile of his own, both recalling the story of one of the women in the sanctuary who refused to even lift her own glass to her mouth to drink from it lest she strain herself "unnecessarily." With a shake of his head Ryunosuke bowed out once more and disappeared down the hall.
Mako smiled and shook her head, watching the servant set down the tray and begin to arrange everything on her table. She itched to help but knew they preferred to be left to their work, and so set herself to peruse her bookshelf for a moment to keep herself busy.
A quiet jingling noise sounded from the corner of the room and Mako started slightly, her eyes darting to Takeru to see him silently turning the next page of his book. She inhaled deeply, muttering to herself soundlessly about how ridiculous she was being over the tiniest of things lately.
Ever since Mako's close encounter with Takeru, she had discovered that her awareness of him had sharpened to an alarming point. Every soft jingle of his chains or whisper of a page turning had her heart jumping into her throat, until she all but threw her hands up in frustration.
How was it even possible to be so hyper-aware of a single human being?!
She was so wrapped up in her thoughts and mutterings that she didn't realize someone had approached her from behind until his silk chord was slipping over her head. She had a single heartbeat to wonder at the colorful flash of rope falling across her vision before it had instantly tightened around her neck.
Mako gasped, both in shock and the sudden desperate need to fill her lungs with air. Her fingers automatically seized at the offending cloth, but the silken chords slipped beneath her grasp, finding no purchase to slide her fingers underneath. The strength with which her assailant pulled on the chords had her dragging backwards across the floor, crushing her windpipe in the process.
Within seconds Mako's vision was spotting at the edges, and she knew with a sudden, perfect clarity that she would be unconscious or dead within moments if something didn't change drastically and soon. Her heart beat frantically in her chest from the panic that seized her limbs, drowning out nearly everything else but the sharp feeling of dread and slowing dawning horror. Is this it? Is this as long as I get to live then?
Inside the whirlwind of her panic, her ears pricked at a sound rarely heard before.
"Mako!"
She wondered, briefly, if it was a figment of her imagination or just the rush of blood pounding in her ears, distorting the sounds around her into creating what her mind wanted so desperately to hear.
"Mako!"
Ryunosuke was still smiling quietly to himself as he made his way down the hall, shaking his head at Mako's last comment. He was so lost in the memories of Mako and Kotoha's imitations of the woman when they had heard the story that he almost didn't see Genta until he nearly crashed into him.
"Hey! Watch it!" Genta called out as Ryunosuke halted so fast that he was swinging his arms to keep his balance so that he didn't fall face-first into the tray Genta was carrying.
"Sorry!" Ryunosuke rushed to apologize. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."
"Obviously," Genta remarked with a grin. "What's got you so wrapped up in your own head? That princess of yours giving you another fit of worrying?"
Ryunosuke's wry grin was unmistakable. "No more than the usual." His eyes darted around quickly, noting that they appeared to be alone before dropping his voice so low that Genta had to lean in to hear. "I was hoping you'd had any luck with her…house guest."
Genta shook his head, keeping his voice low in response. "Not yet, he hasn't spilled a work to me. You?"
Ryunosuke shook his head. "Nothing. She's being stubbornly tight-lipped about it, whatever it is."
"Something obviously happened between the two."
"What do you think it could be?"
Genta shrugged. "With those two? It could be anything. I really don't have the slightest clue as to what has the two of them all riled up." He grinned impishly. "Do you think it's sexual tension?"
Ryunosuke choked suddenly, slapping his hand against his chest to clear his lungs. "What?!"
Genta burst out laughing. "Kidding! I'm only kidding!" He slapped his co-conspirator on the shoulder amiably. "Try not to be so up-tight."
Ryunosuke glared at the jovial young man. "We don't have time for joking around."
Genta resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "If you're not having a little fun with life, you're not really living," he quipped. "But seriously, would it be so terrible if your princess released some of her stress in a rather…inviting way?"
Ryunosuke's glare was answer enough.
Genta sighed dramatically. "Too bad. It'd be good for Takeru to relieve some of that stress he has built up lately."
"Are you suggesting that Hime should be sleeping around to – to relieve some stress?" Ryunosuke asked incredulously.
Genta could hear that he had stepped into dangerous territory by the tone of the other man's voice. He shifted the tray to one hand to hold the other up in a defensive gesture. "I'm just saying that they both have more stress than they really need, and that the tension between them seemed like it could possibly be heading in that direction. I never suggested the little Lady should be putting herself out there for anyone who wanted to take a shot at her."
Ryunosuke stood fuming on the spot.
Genta sighed. "What would be so terrible about the two of them getting together?" He asked in genuine curiosity.
"You know why," Ryunosuke hissed between gritted teeth.
Genta frowned, his brows creasing in the center. "No, I don't know actually. I don't see the harm in the two of them engaging in a little fun for a while."
"Because it wouldn't be for 'fun' with Hime," Ryunosuke answered tautly. "It's exactly what her father would want. I can't imagine your –" he cut himself off mid-sentence with a wary glance around. "I can't imagine others would be so happy about it either. His country, citizens or the rest of the royal family wouldn't exactly approve of a little 'fun' between them."
Genta paused, considering the other man's words. "You might be right." He shrugged. "But who are we to voice the opinions of others? Especially when they're not here to give voice to them." He grinned mischievously.
Ryunosuke wanted to throttle the man before him. Instead he took a deep breath to steady himself, trying desperately to calm his emotions and ask the heavens for patience. When he was sure he wouldn't react in uncharacteristic violence against the young man with the gigantic grin in front of him he opened his eyes and faced him again, his arms crossed over his chest just in case. The smirk was still there, mocking him, so he shifted his eyes elsewhere, noting the tray in Genta's arms once again.
"We can talk more later," Ryunosuke stated tensely but evenly. "I'm sure some Lady is getting impatient for her afternoon snack. They don't take kindly to having their refreshments the wrong temperature."
Genta looked down at the tray, almost startled to see it there. He had forgotten about it during their conversation. "Actually, I don't think she'll mind. She's usually pretty relaxed about a mistake or two here and there." When Ryunosuke looked at him questioningly, Genta elaborated. "It's for your princess. I would have brought it sooner but her original tray disappeared. We searched for it but it's like it vanished." He shrugged. "Or on its way to the wrong Lady, one who will probably beat the sorry person who dared to bring something she didn't request…" He trailed off when he caught Ryunosuke's expression. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to alarm you about one of your fellow workers getting an undeserved lashing but –"
"You're saying that this tray is for Hime?" Ryunosuke's eyes were wide with alarm.
"Yes," Genta answered, confused but feeling a warning tugging at his instincts. "Why?" He started when Ryunosuke let out a string of curses. "What's wrong?"
"Hime –" Ryunosuke whispered before tearing off down the hall in the direction he had come.
Genta all but dropped the tray in the hall, just managing to set it off to the side for someone to find, before chasing down the other man. Watching Ryunosuke's face pale so rapidly had all the warning bells going off in Genta's mind, instinct telling him that something was very, very wrong. "What is it? What happened?" He asked, firing off questions as they pelted down the halls.
"There was a man – a servant – carrying Hime's tray into her rooms just as I was leaving," Ryunosuke managed between breaths. "But I didn't recognize him." He shook his head in anger at himself. "I thought he was new, or that the other, usual servants were too busy." He cursed at himself. "I was too distracted! I should have paid more attention!"
"What are you talking about?" Genta asked, still trying to understand what the alarm was about.
"Someone's going to try and hurt Hime."
"You don't know that for sure," Genta tried to reason, still keeping pace with the man beside him.
Ryunosuke shook his head. "It wouldn't be the first attempt on her life."
"How many has she had?!"
"More than I'd care to count," Ryunosuke muttered back, just loud enough for Genta to catch.
As they turned a corner, they flashed past a man and woman walking down the hall together, their heads turning as one as the pair ran past.
"Ryunosuke!" The young woman called out to them. "What's wrong?"
Ryunosuke paused only momentarily in his running. "There was a new man serving Hime, one I didn't recognize," he answered before immediately turning back around and continuing on as fast as he could.
"Mako," she whispered, her eyes going round in terror.
"Kotoha?" Her companion questioned in concern, watching as her features paled instantly. "What's going on?"
Kotoha's hands gripped Chiaki's forearms in alarm. "Someone's trying to hurt my sister." Her voice was tight with panic.
In a move that came as naturally to him as breathing air, Chiaki grasped Kotoha's hand and pulled her along behind him, racing after the two men without a second thought. Kotoha felt her heart skip a beat in surprise at his contact, but her feelings were quickly over-powered by the desperate need to get to her sister's side as quick as possible. She tried her best to match Chiaki's pace as they ran down the hall.
Chiaki glanced at Kotoha briefly, noting the pale but determined look on her face. He knew that she would have taken off running herself, him chasing after her, if he hadn't pulled her along. At least this way he'd be able to keep her in his sights until they figured out what was going on. His face colored lightly at the thought. He shook his head to dispel the paths his mind was trying to wander down. He would do that when he had the time. Right now he needed to focus on the situation in front of him.
Kotoha remained oblivious to Chiaki's look or the way his hand tightened around hers the closer they got to her sister's rooms. She bit her lip almost hard enough to bleed; praying to the heavens that they arrived in time.
Mako struggled frantically before a large force slammed into the assailant behind her, and she abruptly found herself sprawled out on the floor.
Her fall had loosened her assailant's grip on his strangle-hold, and Mako's body automatically gasped in a lung-full of air. She choked on the now almost over-abundant oxygen in the room and coughed violently, tears making their way down her face as she winced from the pain it caused her abused neck.
The voice called out to her again but her head spun too dizzily to make any sense of who was speaking or what they were even saying.
Over the sounds of her desperate breathing she eventually began to make out the sounds of a fight, her body automatically turning toward the source of danger it still felt present.
The table holding the tea fixings knocked over, porcelain pieces shattering on the ground and hot liquid spraying the two men who paid no heed to the pain.
With one hand on her neck and the other supporting her body, she could just make out the blurry outline of the two men fighting across the room, their shapes blurred by the tears that still streamed down her face.
They wrestled for control, crashing into the table that supported Mako and Takeru's current round of Agnitio, sending rounded stones flying in every direction. They stumbled and fumbled across the floor, turning Mako's once pristine rooms into a hazardous mess of broken and up-turned debris.
Mako blinked rapidly, brushing a hand across her eyes before looking at the two directly. Her eyes widened in shock to see Takeru struggling with Mako's assailant, a burning anger filling his features. She could see that while Takeru was more skilled in the close hand-to-hand combat, he was limited by the chains that caught and held each of his powerful, precise moves.
Noting Takeru's struggles with sudden glee, the assailant yanked on the chains, sending Takeru crashing face forward into a chair.
"Take –" Mako gasped before coughing violently once more, her throat burning in protest.
Knowing that he had little time left to finish the deed, the assailant now pulled a dagger out of his inner tunic and approached Mako quickly. One quick thrust from the blade and his job would be complete.
Still trying to recover from her coughing fit, Mako heard the rapid footsteps too late to do more than throw her arms up uselessly in a last ditch effort at protecting herself. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, bracing herself for the blade's sharp bite, only to feel the substantial weight of something fall on her so heavily that it knocked her flat to the ground once more. The hiss of pain she heard, coupled with having what little air she had knocked back out of her lungs had Mako's eyes popping open in a flash.
Startled brown eyes met with deep, dark ones so close to her face that their noses nearly brushed together.
She felt Takeru's solid body above her, the chains around his connected wrists pressing her down to the floor from their taut line across her chest as each hand braced himself on the floor, trying to keep as much of his weight off her as possible.
Their eyes stared into the other's for what felt like a single, endless moment, each trying to read what was written there before Takeru winced in pain, darting a glance at his left shoulder. Mako's eyes followed his, widening as they saw the long line of blood traveling from his shoulder to nearly his elbow where the sleeve had been shredded open from the blade, cutting a jagged line on the skin it had found underneath.
Movement above them had both heads turning upwards to see the assailant, having recovered from his shock at Takeru throwing himself atop Mako in protection, now poised to strike at them both with a knowing, victorious smile tracing his features.
Takeru's body tensed above hers, sending a look of death at the man above them. "Don't touch her," he warned, his voice quiet but full of promise.
Mako looked at the man hovering above her in complete and utter shock. "Takeru?" she whispered in astonishment.
Takeru glanced at her in the briefest of moments, reading the confusion and disbelief written there before his vision swam alarmingly. He shook his head to clear it, feeling his body fumbling for purchase on the ground beneath him as an almighty crash startled all three of the room's occupants. Takeru was able to discern that help had finally arrived before his shaking muscles gave out beneath him and he landed heavily on top of the young princess below him. As he slid into the shadows of unconsciousness, his last thoughts were of how soft and warm the body beneath him was and how soothing the beat of her heart could be.
Mako lay stiff on the floor of her room, her mind whirling under the cacophony of new noises yelling from every which direction around her, the pounding of her own heartbeat at her unlikely protector's weight atop her body, and the voice insider her screaming at the top of its silent lungs that something was wrong.
The hiss of pain coming from the lips of her improbable defender gave her body the jump-start it needed to focus. "Takeru?" she whispered, her voice still hoarse. "Takeru?" She gave his shoulder a shake but all she received was an almost inaudible moan of pain in answer. As gently as she could, she pushed at the weight on top of her until she could roll him off and onto the floor. She was on her knees in an instant, hovering over his prone form, largely ignoring the chaos that now reigned around her.
Some part of her mind registered that Ryunosuke, Genta, and Chiaki were tussling with the assailant, dancing away from his wildly swinging blade but all of her focus was on the man in front of her.
"Mako? Mako!"
Mako jerked when she felt a small hand grasp her shoulder. She turned to see Kotoha standing over her in terror.
"Are you okay? What happened?!"
Mako shook her head. "I'm fine," she croaked.
Kotoha's eyes widened in horror. "Mako! Your neck!"
"It'll heal," she tried to assure her before turning back to the man beside her. "Something's wrong," she urged.
Kotoha's eyes followed her sister's in surprise. "What happened?"
"He protected me."
Kotoha felt her jaw drop open slightly in shock. "He – what? Mako, I don't understand."
"Kotoha!" Mako's voice was rough, both from abuse and frustration.
Kotoha jumped as if she had been shocked. "Right! Sorry!" Her eyes scanned over Takeru's form, biting her lip at what she saw. His left arm was cut open and bleeding from shoulder to elbow in a nasty, jagged line. His face was beginning to contort in pain and a cold sweat was breaking out over his body.
Mako was already ripping the veil off her head, using it is as a tourniquet for the arm wound, binding it tightly. Her features were set in grim determination when he winced at the tug her efforts put on his arm.
"I can't see anything that should have caused him to be like this," Kotoha muttered out loud. "Did he hit his head on something?"
Mako shook her head in answer.
Kotoha's eyes traced the wounded arm, her eyes dancing over to the group of men who had finally grabbed ahold of the assassin. A thought struck her. "Mako!" She grabbed her sister's arm to get her attention. "Do you think the blade was poisoned?"
Mako's eyes grew large, her gaze immediately falling to Takeru's prone form.
Kotoha whirled on the spot. "Don't touch the blade!" She shouted, drawing the eyes of the men in the room as they looked at the petite girl's sudden loud voice in surprise. "He's poisoned it!"
The three young men looked at the blade in shock, jumping back from its arc. Seizing his opportunity, the assassin's raised his dagger high. Before anyone could stop him, he had plunged the point deep into his heart, falling face forward onto the floor, a pool of dark blood staining the rug beneath him in an ever-increasing circle.
Kotoha grimaced and turned her face away.
Chiaki made a noise of disgust and frustration. "Coward," he spat.
Genta shook his head. "Even if we had managed to capture him alive, he wouldn't have lasted long in the interrogation that would have followed."
Ryunosuke was already halfway across the room. "Hime! Are you okay?!"
Mako was shaking her head. "Takeru he –"
"Hime! Your voice!" Ryunosuke's eyes widened, spotting the discoloration that was already beginning to develop. "Your neck!" He bowed his head quickly, asking for her pardon before he let his fingertips trace the markings. She winced as he probed the abused area. "I don't think anything is broken," he muttered out loud. "Just a deep bruising. We were lucky this time."
Chiaki's face was scrunched up in confusion. "This time?" Understanding dawned. "This isn't the first time she's been attacked?!"
Ryunosuke nodded solemnly, noting Mako's tears as they began to well up in her eyes.
"Ryunosuke," she tried to start but her voice was scratchy.
He shook his head. "You need to rest your voice so you don't damage it further," he urged watching carefully as tears began to spill over.
Mako shook her head in frustration, looking to Kotoha for help.
"She's fine Ryunosuke," Kotoha assured him. "It's Takeru. He was cut by the blade and now we can't get him to regain consciousness."
Genta was beside Ryunosuke in an instant, checking Takeru's pulse and eyeing the situation himself, his features more serious than any of them had ever seen before.
Mako wiped her tears away angrily.
"I know Hime," Ryunosuke assured her.
She shook her head rapidly and pointed frantically to Takeru's unconscious form, her eyes demanding. With a reluctant sigh Ryunosuke stepped back from her. "I will, if you promise to keep quiet for a while." When Mako nodded he immediately stepped in and took over for Genta.
Chiaki pulled the dagger out of the dead man's chest, grimacing at the sound it made. "There should still be some poison near the hilt to help identify it," he informed them, scrutinizing it closely.
Ryunosuke inspected Takeru's wound seriously, taking note on all the damage to his body with a calm, practiced air. He nodded as Kotoha rattled off everything she could see or had noted before Ryunosuke had taken over.
Mako sat back, watching Ryunosuke at work, but unable to keep her complete distance. Tentatively she reached out a shaking hand and brushed aside Takeru's damp hair from his face. Tears coursed down her cheeks in renewed frustration as a fierce, sharp ache of sorrow and regret lanced through her chest.
Not again, her voice screamed silently in her heart. Please, not again.