A/N : Not mine. All Kouga Yun's. I don't own Loveless. I don't make any money out of it.
This one is short. I hope you'll excuse me.
Chapter 11
23rd, September 2007
Hi Soubi,
I suppose this letter will arrive a few days earlier. That isn't a problem, is it? It is difficult to find you something adequate, what with all the time that has passed. I know the others wanted to send you something too. Have they yet?
I couldn't remember seeing any books in your flat or even seen you reading so I've chosen according to my likes, your personality as it was years ago and our circumstances. I hope you'll like what I've chosen. When we will meet again, I'd like to have your opinion on it.
I hope you're well.
Ritsuka.
Actually, he had never read anything about Kant's work. The book found a place near his bed. He would read it. Of course, he would. It was a gift from Ritsuka.
Indeed, he had also received three other packages on the days following Ritsuka's letter. The first one was from Kio, who had sent him a peace offering in the form of a sketch and a pack of chuppa chups. The other ones were from the youngsters. Yuiko had sent him gloves, not hand-made this time but well chosen anyway. They would be perfect with his clothes. Natsuo and Yōji had sent him pictures of Ritsuka that he had obviously not been aware of being taken. They had managed to capture all the little flickers of expression that made Ritsuka so different from his brother, from the small lines between his eyebrows when he was considering something to the soft upturn of his lips when he was amused. They were only side-profile pictures but they had been tastefully shot. He hadn't known they were so good at taking pictures. And still, they had chosen gifts that he could either hide easily from Seimei or use without drawing his attention.
He missed them.
Maybe Ritsuka was right and a blank Fighter could break free. He hoped so. He wished to. But he wasn't strong enough to do so. Seimei was— imposing and commanding and powerful. Seimei wasn't any Sacrifice. He had— powers. He touched his neck. He used to bandage it to not draw attention. Now he hid his scars because most of the time he couldn't stand seeing them. Being Loveless Fighter... He would be proud. If only he could. But no matter how many times Ritsuka wrote he only needed to will it, didn't make it any less false. Yes, he could defy his master. He could oppose him. But he knew only pain will follow. Punishment and shame and hurt. He was no masochist, despite Ritsuka's early claims. He had been branded as Beloved. He wished with all his might, all his heart and all his mind to be Ritsuka's. And still his scars laughed at him, glaringly red, proclaiming loud and clear he wasn't, that he was Seimei's and would be until death. He had punched his mirror too, too many times to count. And still he was Seimei's. But Beloved, he wasn't.