A/N : Not mine. All Kouga Yun's. I don't own Loveless. I don't make any money out of it.
Chapter 16
There was a dangerous edge to him that he hadn't known Ritsuka possessed. He witnessed it for the first time during the second week he spent with him. Seimei called upon him. Of course, he would. Seimei seemed to have an unearthly timing that tended to ruin his best times. But a call was as compelling as an order. Ritsuka had already understood and only looked at him strangely, making no move to prevent him from leaving nor voicing any protest.
"Will Seimei come back with you?" he only asked.
"He never has."
"Then I'll wait for you."
These were the last words they had spoken before he left in a hurry. He was already later than he usually was. Seimei would not approve. He had no wish to answer any questions concerning his tardiness.
When he came back, it was night. He had been hard pressed to win the Battle. For once, they had met a worthy and skilful adversary. It had been interesting but difficult. He was tired and bruised and battered. Seimei hadn't been spared either. In a Battle, as a Sacrifice, he was absolutely flawless. He could endure a lot. But he wasn't appreciative of it. The more he endured, the more he, as his Fighter, would have to deal with the aftermath which usually consisted of a demeaning order. Ritsuka wouldn't like it.
He was still there when he opened the door, reading a book with a cup of coffee beside him. He looked so much like Seimei and still, they were so dissimilar. Ritsuka looked at him, decided nothing was life-threatening and calmly closed his book before getting up to check him over.
"Undress, Soubi. Show me." Control. Yes, Ritsuka had learned it. He patched him up, letting his cool fingers trace the injuries before tending to them. He asked how the Battle went and whether he had missed any wound. He didn't mention Seimei. It was soothing to let him do as he wished. His touch was cautious. His touch was difficult to resist. But he wouldn't move an inch. He concentrated on his breathing. He concentrated on Seimei's departing order. It would be more painful to obey if he were sidetracked. And still, Ritsuka would slowly and tenderly graze his skin until he was satisfied he couldn't do any better to help him recover. He got up and got dressed. On impulse, he stepped away from the young Sacrifice and leaned his back against the wall. But apparently, Ritsuka wasn't all done with him because he got up too and stopped a few inches in front of him. He was taller now, he reflected. But Seimei had ordered and he couldn't bring himself to look Ritsuka in the eye.
"Arigato," he simply said. Ritsuka only nodded once, acknowledging he had perfectly heard him. His presence was— intoxicating.
"I'll stay here tonight," he announced, his tone brooking no argument. He felt heavier all of a sudden. The floor had opened up under his feet and soon, he would crash down.
"You can't," he stated. He wondered whether he should elaborate. If Ritsuka hadn't changed that much, he would demand an explanation. Elaborate he would then. "Seimei—," he began but rephrased. "I can't let you stay."
"What's his order, now?" he asked and his tone was decidedly colder.
"Stay alone," he repeated.
It wasn't the first time. It certainly wouldn't be the last. He was used to it and usually wasn't even affected by it. But tonight, he was. Tonight, this order was painful. How Seimei could have known, he had no idea. And Ritsuka wasn't happy. He wasn't happy at all. He saw it in his face: shock, outrage, anger. He felt the air move beside him rather than saw anything before Ritsuka's fist collided with the wall near his head. He didn't move an inch. Not the first time. Not when he felt the younger male growl. Not when he felt him tense and stiffen. Not when he punched the wall again. And again. And again. He heard his knuckles complain and crash each time he hit the wall with all his might. He heard the crushing sound of something breaking and eventually put up his own hand between Ritsuka's and the wall. He winced when the blow fell but didn't make a sound. He didn't move when Ritsuka held up his fist again. He saw it then, in the tightening of his jaw betraying his gritted teeth, in his aggressive posture, in his quivering arm. He saw the rage Natsuo and Yōji had hinted about. Smouldering eyes alight with pure, unadulterated rage.
"Ritsuka. Your hand," he only said, trying to catch a hold of him to see the extent of his injury.
"Will heal," he deadpanned and breathed out the fury and the frustration. Control. "I'll see you— later," he declared before leaving his condo.
Later turned into tomorrow. Then the day after tomorrow. Later morphed into three full days. When Ritsuka knocked on his door again, his hand was bandaged but he simply brushed his concern off. Considering the state of his wall, it was obvious he had broken some bones. He had to give him that: he could endure a lot of pain. Even as a child he was able to sustain physical pain without complaining. He had always had that strength. But what he had seen in his eyes, it hadn't been. That fierceness, that brute force and wild intensity. Where Seimei was ruthless and cold-headed, Ritsuka was fiery and hot-tempered. Somehow, he felt better knowing Ritsuka possessed such violence. Whenever he will choose to confront his brother, he won't be the lone and scared child he used to be. He would have enough resource to fight back. He might even be able to claim him as his Fighter.