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A Castle of Silence and Bones
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020.
acquiesced to those below.
(may you live long enough to die young; for only then will it be tragic)
Yao creeps into his room in the dead of the night; warm fingers, fluttering robe, light and lilting voice. For the first time, Asahiko - in an entranced stupor - thinks the person whose body is illuminated by the barely-there light of the hallway is his long-dead mother. And then Yao speaks, soft but pliant all the same, and the only thing Asahiko knows how to say is yes, yes, yes.
It is smart of Yao, he thinks later, to ask for a promise in the dead of the night. And it is foolish of himself - and still, he is only twenty-two years old, and no more mistakes will be made - to agree, and then think himself dignified enough to keep such a promise.
In a laughable parody of the other's footsteps, he creeps into the room of the man he has never known (and will never know) to be 'father'; there is still some serum left; more than enough for a human. And the emperor, in the face of his holy blood and grand speeches gestures, is still only a man at heart - with affections for his family and his nation, and nothing else.
(There is certainly no room in his heart to love a bastard son.)
Out of some mockery of piety, Yao turns his face away, as the Emperor that led Japan - in spirit and blood alone - to absolute victory in the Second Great War, passes away, with no fight or fuss. His face is peaceful in the waning candlelight of the hallway, and if the trickle of blood did not give his state of being away, Yao thinks that the coroners might have declared the death to be perfectly natural.
x
There are whispers upon the generals that there is a new emperor in the Land of Rising Sun, and so, they hurry back from their already-abandoned battlefields in jets and planes, hushed murmurs surrounding the whole lot of them. Kiku raises his hand, calling for silence, and there is not a single military leader who will speak in the face of the other's hand.
"It is with greatest sorrow that I must inform you noble and honorable generals," Kiku begins, his normal ivory-and-gold military attire traded, just this once, for an ebony-and-silver suit with epaulettes, "that our dearest and most wise Tennou-sama passed away peacefully in his sleep just two nights prior." He lowers his head, and the generals mimic the action, before sitting back down once more, hands folded neatly over the table.
"And what evidence do we have," one of the younger generals interrupts, "That the death of our glorious Emperor was truly the wish of fate?" His words are carefully chosen, his gaze is purposely blank, but the threat in his question is evident in the stiffness of his posture. The generals surrounding him stiffen as well, as Kiku's gaze drifts, rather boorishly, over the unflinching new face to the council table.
"Muto-kun," one of the older generals try, but Kiku waves a hand, and he too, falls silent.
"Our dearest and most wise Tennou-sama passed away peacefully in his sleep," Kiku repeats, emotionlessly, keeping his gaze with the once-nameless general. "The nation of Japan requires that all of the generals report for both the coronation of the new Emperor, and the funeral of the most dear and wise previous emperor."
"Oh, this is just grand," the same young General snorts, "You are demanding that we first place the Emperor's bastard child onto the throne before we acknowledge Tennou-sama to be dead?" In the wake of the old Emperor's death, the older generals around the table know better than to question the declarations of Kiku-sama; insolence cannot be pardoned twice.
Shimada does not flinch, or even bat an eye, before pulling a gun and shooting his fellow general. This, too, has become a common occurrence, most certainly because there is no one to fight anymore - nothing to avenge, nothing to take, nothing to kill. Kiku raises only an eyebrow; he can hear the maids, hesitantly scurrying forth (they, too, have become used to blood being spilled in the Council Room) and knows he needs to finish this meeting soon.
"The Coronation of the Heisei Emperor will take place tomorrow morning," Kiku concludes, standing up and bowing formally, despite the corpse to his left, "It is the most humble wishes of the Empire of Japan that the ceremony will be graced by the presence of Japan's most honorable generals."
He lets the threat hang in the air, departing the room first, with a hard clack of shoes, and the resounding closure of the door.
x
Asahiko - the Heisei Emperor, as the Showa Emperor has deigned - is coronated a few months after his twenty-second birthday, with the blood that he wiped off from the previous Emperor's jaw (from his father's jaw) washed clean from his hands; and still, he can smell its allure. Kiku-sama and Yao-hime, he can see from one of the lower platforms, dressed in black-and-platinum and white-and-gold respectively.
He does not understand how Yao-hime appears with no blood on her sleeves; free of guilt and responsibility. But for this, like their shared immortality, he wants all the more. (The world is not enough; the world is never enough.)
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The year is 1962 and the world has finished - briefly - its shake and quake and toil. There is a temporary ceasefire, and Kiku - Yao is betting on - will mistake it to be 'peace'. The two of them are, after all, far too isolated up high in their rooms in the Imperial Palace. Kiku, like Yao, cannot hear of the unrest, cannot see the dispassion in Feliciano's eyes.
Neither can Yao; but he is biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment (bets will be set, and there will be no debt to pay off, regardless of victory or defeat). There are only three empires in their current world: the Empire of Japan, the Republic of Germany, and the Italian Empire; split up between them, the various fallen countries - some are allowed to keep their tongues and cultures.
Others are tortured into acquiescence - intangibility.
In the face of his lot in the end of the war being almost... bearable (no, stop - you speak blasphemy, revenge is the only think on your mind, on your lips, in your heart), he has promised, night after night, to not forget - to never forgive. Xiang Gang, Im-Yong Soo, Taiwan (the shriveled shell of a girl she has sunk herself into; can that be called alive?), and the Empress. Never; never; never.
So he lets himself rest his head on Kiku's shoulder, as the other clenches tightly about Yao's hand. Asahiko - soon to be the new Tennou-sama and Yao feels his heart brimming and aching with love, love, hate - casts a glance at the two of them, in their seats on the platform-come-balcony. It is the most of an apology he will give; Kiku takes no note - dreaming, still, of an infinite empire.
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