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A Castle of Silence and Bones
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011.
oh, all the sunshine in the world
(tranquil places are not necessarily made by tranquil peoples)
Yao does not know of it, but two days ago, a divorce was announced within the Imperial Family. The Emperor, with only the slightest tremble of the hand, had signed off on his family. A day earlier, the marriage of The Emperor Hirohito to The Princess WanRong was approved, and the wedding celebrations began.
But he knows none of this; sees and hears only what make it past the wooden floors and barred doors; only what make it past the security cameras monitored throughout the West Wing of the Akasaka Palace. Only what Kiku will allow through the webs of lies and deceits.
The doctors have been sent - to no avail, of course. His body is special, even amongst people like himself, because it will break and be broken; and yet, it will do neither in the long run. Yao laughs a bitter laugh, because it is cruel (of God, of the world, of his nation) to leave him here - like this. He cannot even die - even when it is so close, and so sweet!
"Yao," Kiku beckons, unlocking the door to the chamber. The other is dressed in a kimono today, blue and white pattern with a simple black obi. It is... unusual, Yao thinks instinctively and then he cannot look at Kiku for too long. He's thinking of other times, better times, and he cannot even remember what they were about and -
(You can't remember - you shouldn't remember.)
"Nani desu ka?" he responds automatically, and even though he knows the shape of the syllables, knows the meaning of the words, he cannot get the taste and feel of sandpaper out and off of his tongue. Kiku turns to look at him, a curious gaze, before striding on the bed. Only then does Yao notice the elaborately-woven kimono - of black and blue koi - which Kiku is cradling in the fold of a sleeve.
"There is a celebration today," Kiku replies, as a means of explanation.
The rooms are heated nicely, Yao thinks, as Kiku's fingertips glide across his skin. Slowly, carefully, his sleeping garments are removed and replaced with more 'appropriate' ones. Kiku lightly presses dry lips to Yao's forehead, and Yao does not know why he shivers. Kiku manages to lift the individual arms through the silken sleeves, letting nothing touch the ground, but it is only when he successfully ties the butterfly knot of the back obi that Yao realizes the amount of time such an outfit takes to put on.
And by then, there is nothing to say, because Kiku has already slipped on his own shoes, helping Yao into his own as well.
"Why do you - " Yao starts, only for Kiku for lightly kiss him, before pinning in a silver-lined hair ornament. It matters not; he didn't know what he wanted to ask in the first place.
(He still tastes the roughness of sandpaper against his mouth - whenever, however, he speaks.)
There is a carriage waiting for them right outside the front entrance of the palace. He doesn't know why, but he knows these steps, knows this place. The outside air is so cool, so fresh, so vibrant - he can't stand it at all. Kiku, uncharacteristically, keeps him close, even during the half-hour ride in the carriage.
(You can't remember - you shouldn't remember.)
Kiku leads him to one of the lower balconies of the Imperial Palace. Before them stand crowds and crowds of cheering people. A celebration, Kiku has said. A celebration for - ?
The cacophony erupts when the bride and groom embrace and from this distance, Yao can barely - just barely - discern the faintest outlines of their faces. He has seen both of them - he knows both of them. Kiku is clapping, and Yao finds that his own hands are moving, of their own accord, to congratulate the newly-bound couple.
"That is - " he moves to say, and Kiku turns to look at him, before nodding and smiling.
"That is my Emperor, and that is your Empress," Yao's eyes widen, because he knows that face - that person - the one that is wearing a purely white kimono, standing in the middle of the ceremony, heralding all the attention. And he knows her, and knows that this is not where she should be and why is she here and how does he know her and - and - and -
She already has a husband.
"It will succeed," Kiku says, and Yao does not understand. But it doesn't matter - again - because the other is leaning closer and closing the distance between them once more.
Yao tastes his own blood - sharp and dull - and hears a language - like sandpaper - against his tongue. And it is all foreign because -
And it is then, in the deafening symphony of the crowds of people, that he makes out the words. And the people were not cheering; those were slurs, derisions, and threats. A 'celebration' indeed.
(You can't remember - you shouldn't remember.)
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