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An Auspicious Year
By Diane Long
Author's Notes:
This story is set in Nihon, assuming all travels are over and Kuro and Fai have settled down.
February 3rd, which is one day before Risshun (the first day of spring according to the lunar calendar), is called Setsubun in Japan. It's not a national holiday, but mame maki (bean throwing) ceremonies are performed on Setsubun. Traditionally, people throw roasted soy beans at home, shouting "oni wa soto" (get out demons) and "fu ku wa uchi" (come in happiness.) These beans are called fuku mame (fortune beans.) It is believed that people can be healthy and happy if they pick up and eat fuku mame the number equal to their ages. - From Setsubun: Bean Throwing Festival/Mame-Make Festival By Shizuko Mishima, About.com Guide
“Kore wa”- What's this?
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Torch light danced upon the plain planks of pine that made up the low structure of the soldier's barracks.
Although it was nothing fancy, and rather cramped, the space gleamed with cleanliness and was always warm for the soldiers housed within.
Kurogane believed his troops deserved nothing less and made sure their living space was well maintained. Well cared for soliders made more loyal fighters who tended to stay alive longer.
On top of that, his men needed to know he was loyal to them. So Kurogane tried to be visible in the barracks during festivals. It usually wasn't that hard to show up, drink some sake and laugh at their jokes. He was a soldier too. He could dress casually here, just a navy hakema and white gi with a deep red quilted hapi coat to keep out the chill. A nice break from the fripperies he had to wear at the palace.
Tonight was Setsubun, the celebration of the lunar new year. All he had to do was keep his hand draped over his sake so none of the roasted soybeans flying through the air ruined his drink.
“Oni wa soto, fuku wa uchi!” A young solider shouted gleefully, throwing a handful of beans at a laughing sempai who returned the favor.
As the shouts and beans tumbled around him, Kuro chuckled. His personal oni, whom he had never been able to successfully expel from his life was outside playing in the snow.
Not surprising for a man raised in a wintery world, Fai was his happiest and most vibrant out in the snow. This was his first winter in Nihon, and after wilting in the summer heat, his return to vigor and cheer eased an unconscious tension in Kurogane's heart.
They had been living in their own rooms at Shirasagi castle for almost a year now, veterans from a war that beside themselves only his princess could appreciate.
A year.
A year of catching the mage giving him longing glances. Of just-barely-there touches as they passed in the corridor. Of late night drinking sessions and language lessons. A year of connecting.
Maybe this year one of them would find the courage to be open about their affection, to take the next step.
“What the...?” Kurogane muttered, thoughts shattered, as a bean bounced off the bridge of his nose and somehow into his covered sake. His men knew better than to throw one of those damned beans at him.
“Oi!” he thundered as two ice cold beans hit his neck and slid under his gi and lodged dangerously close to his belly button.
Used to respecting that particular tone, his men stopped what they were doing and directed their attention to their leader.
As another bean bounced of the back of his head, Kurogane guessed the identity of the culprit behind him even before amused whispers of “Fai-san” rippled through the room.
“Not a good idea,” Kurogane growled. Did the mage always have to embarrass him in front of his men? He could only imagine what these increasingly frequent displays did to his authority.
A soft laugh preceded three more beans that also managed to slip under Kurogane's collar and roll along his torso.
“Those are cold, you idiot!” Kurogane muttered, refusing to turn around on principle.
“Kore wa?” Fai phrased carefully, heavy emphasis on the vowels, his tone lilting up into a question.
Kurogane allowed himself a quick glance over his shoulder to see the mage in his old traveling clothes complete with his fluffy white coat, posed dramatically with one hand on a jutted out hip, and the other displaying a handful of beans.
Getting language tips from the rank and file seemed to be one of Fai's favored past times these days.
“Mame maki!” an older soldier supplied helpfully, flipping a handful of beans judiciously over Kurogane's head to spray against the laughing magician.
“Don't encourage him,” Kurogane said without heat. On festival days, he was less the leader and more a comrade in arms.
Fond laughter spread across the room, along with encouraging shouts for Fai to recite the traditional catch phrase. “Oni wa soto, fuku wa uchi!” Which Fai happily obliged, mangling his new phrase just a bit.
To a man, the troops were charmed by the mage. Between his smiles, fighting skills and cheery disposition he had become their mascot. His shoulders hunched, Kurogane wondered if his men were hoping for a spring wedding.
Behind him, Fai sang out something in his mysterious Celesian tongue that seemed to be a mix of chiming bells and thick consonants. The sentence ended with “Ne, Kuro-chan?”
“You know it makes me nervous when you do that,” Kurogane complained as Fai settled in the seat next to him. “Speak in Nihongo so I can understand you.”
“You don't trust me?” Fai teased his accent heavy, letting his long bangs drift into his eyes. “Not after all this time?”
The wistful tone was not lost on the ninja. “I trust you to be up to something.”
“So mean,” Fai sighed, popping a bean in his mouth and crunching it loudly. “Even after asking me to live in your world.”
“Hey, don't eat that,” Kurogane corrected. “Those are for throwing. Besides, food makes you sick.”
“But they are eating theirs,” Fai protested, gesturing to the soldiers across the room. “A couple of beans won't hurt me.”
“After you throw them to chase out bad luck, you pick up the same number as your age off the floor and eat them for good fortune,” Kurogane explained, leaning down to pick up 20 beans from the floor. “Do it correctly.”
“Oh,” Fai replied, his face oddly closed. “Oh.” The un-thrown beans slipped through his fingers, clattering to the floor.
“Well, pick up some,” Kurogane groused, grinding down on his own snack.
Fai glanced at the beans scattered about the floor. “I'm not quite that hungry,” he said softly.
The vitality Kurogane had been enjoying was suddenly gone, leaving behind a blank version of the mage that had not been seen since their early acquaintance.
“Well.” Fai stood up. “I'll leave you to it then.”
Stunned, Kurogane cold only watch him go. What had just happened? The accusing glances of the other men in the room were not helping him think either.
Damn it.
Finishing his sake, floating bean and all, he pushed up from the table and headed towards the courtyard that connected the barracks to the main buildings of Shirasagi proper.
The cold hit him sharply as he exited the building, and he was happy to not have to go far. Fai was a few feet away, standing next to a whimsical snow sculpture of Mokona and the princess wearing her piffle racing costume, the fading sun casting a violet tint on the snow.
Coming to a stop behind the mage, Kurogane placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “What was that about?”
Fai smoothed the snow of Mokona's head with a gloved hand. “It was getting a little warm in there,” he said lamely. “My old clothes are best for the outside.”
“Bullshit.” Red eyes narrowed.
Fai tilted is head back, wispy strands of blond hair catching the cold breeze. “What, is Kuro-mame worried about me?”
It was an old, transparent tactic. Tease and deflect by embarrassing the person getting too close. Kurogane was done with it.
“Yes. I am worried about you.”
Fai stiffened, back ramrod straight. “You don't play fair,” he whispered to the snow sculpture.
“This isn't a game.” Kurogane's firm words cut through the freezing air.
“You picked up 20 beans,” Fai sighed. “Only 20.”
Ah. So this was about their ages. Kurogane decided to face it head on. “How many years were you in that valley?”
Fai wrapped his arms around himself. “We'd need to go to the granary to get enough beans to count it out.”
Hating himself a little for pressing into the topic that pained Fai the most, Kurogane continued. “But you stayed a kid, right?”
Fai shook his head negatively, his posture slumping forward.
“I saw you in the ice shards,” Kurogane pushed, “you looked ten years old. You can't be that much older than me.”
“It's just like you to over simplify this.” Fai turned around, looking infinitely sad, his eyes large and empty. “It's true, my body aged very slowly, but my mind...hundreds of years...” he trailed into silence.
As his hand dropped away, Kurogane's fingers clenched into a fist. The images King Ashura had shared about that damned valley filled his mind's eye. A starving boy with matted hair and broken, bleeding finger nails sitting atop a mountain of corpses. It had been a unending death without dying.
And had lasted for much longer than he had realized. Countless years that made Fai feel lost in time, even at the end of the journey. Made him feel too old to really fit in.
Finally he understood a piece of what made the mage continue to hold himself apart.
As a man of action, he wanted to vanquish this demon for Fai. To undo all the pain and damage, to stop it from happening. To make it so that Fai and his brother were the ones saved by the witch, and let it have been himself that had become a pawn of Fei Wong Reed.
“Kurogane?” Fai asked gravely. “What are you thinking?” He raised an arm as if to touch Kurogane, the tips of his fingers peeping out from the furred cuffs of overlong sleeves.
His focus coming to the present, the ninja took in the lovely and pained face of his companion. The man who had somehow become his most important person. Any attempts to alter the past would likely mean that they would have stayed in their own worlds, that their paths would not cross.
Despite everything, he wasn't willing to give that up. And he wasn't going to lose him to time, either.
As the twilight deepened into an indigo darkness, he looked into those eyes and resolved that he would make up for all the horrible things in Fai's past. He would make him safe and happy.
“Kuro?” Fai queried again, sounding concerned, and dropping his arm.
Kurogane had no words for the feelings in his heart, so he said, “How can you still like snow that much? How can you even stand it?”
“Ah,” Fai sighed, a slight fondness animating the empty planes of his face. “Celes and Ashura-Ou. They showed me a new perspective.”
Latching on to an easy opening, Kurogane stepped closer. “Then let me do that too,” Kurogane said urgently, digging into his pocket and pulling out two fuku mame. “Open your hand.”
Fai held out a hand with one black gloved palm up, looking off balance and lost.
Kurogane placed one bean on Fai's gloved hand and curled his fingers around it.
He took the other bean and held it by his own mouth between his thumb and index finger. “Like I've told you before, your past doesn't matter to me. We've been home for one year, so we'll have one bean each.” He popped the bean into his mouth and crunched it.
Hope lit the mage's features while he clutched his single bean. “Home?”
“Our home,” Kurogane clarified. “Us. Together,” he added embarrasedly just to be sure the idiot got the message.
“Us? Together?” Fai echoed faintly as if he couldn't believe it, his eyes growing impossibly wide.
“Yes, together!” Kurogane barked. “Are you stupid or something?”
Fai blinked. “I think I must be.”
“Just eat the damn bean!”
- Mood:
cheerful
Ihai*
By Diane Long
The flapping canvas of a large indigo pavilion caught the hot and damp breeze of the Nihon summer. This time of year the sun held its place in the sky way into the evening and the royal court and retainers lounged in the borrowed shade and tried to amuse themselves. Even better than the usual entertainments were the strange interactions between the feared chief Ninja and his foreign, pale companion.
Unaware just quite how on display he was wearing a pale blue yukata with white clouds wisping across the fabric, Fai stood gawking at a rushing stream of water burbling through slanted bamboo channels, forgotten hashi poised in his right hand.
“Oh, Fai-san,” Princess Tomoyo sighed in sympathy as Fai missed the flowing somen yet again.
Fai shrugged, his sun burnt cheeks wrinkling in wry amusement. “These are enough of a challenge,” he said wiggling his chopsticks, “when the food isn't moving!” His Nihon, while increasingly intelligible still held strange syllable stresses and skimped on typical vowel endings.
Tomoyo laughed in appreciation, looking poised in her violet summer weight robes. She glanced Kurogane's way noting the way his eye brow twitched even as he seemed to be ignoring the entire situation. It was amusing how while even off duty he had placed himself in the role of a slightly removed observer. He was guarding someone, but it wasn't her this time. At least not completely.
Abandoning his attempts at dinner, Fai flopped back on a cushion and daintily picked up a small woven reed fan. He waved the fan slowly in front of his face. “It's too hot to eat anyway.” He let the hashi clatter to the floor, forgotten.
Tomoyo frowned, making brief eye contact with her chamberlain. “You need to guard your health Fai-san. Please try again, you need to eat.”
Fai nodded his head, but continued to fan himself, one hand lifting damp blond strands off his neck. “Maybe later.”
Tomoyo's lips pursed. Fai's lies, though now more rare, had never fooled her, even from the start of their acquaintance. She held her tongue as she sensed more than saw her chief Ninja reach his limit.
Frowning, Kurogane rose from his own cushions and strode meaningfully towards the the somen tubes, his deep red yukata with black bamboo designs wrapped neatly about his lean form. He shot Fai an exasperated look before sliding his ebony hashi into position over the rushing water. Two efficient snaps of his wrist captured enough somen to fill the small cup of chilled broth held in his other, mechanical, hand. Twisting his waist he leaned towards Fai with his arm out stretched, offering the meal.
Which Fai promptly ignored, closing his eyes and fanning faster.
“Mage...” Kurogane warned, voice low, his brow furrowing. “Eat it.”
The small gathering under the shady pavilion paused their conversations to watch the by-play more closely.
Fai languorously turned on his cushions until his back was to his tormentor. His fanning slowed to a snails pace, clearly communicating his disinterest.
“Fine.” Keenly aware of the eyes on him, and unwilling to make a further spectacle of himself, Kurogane moved to dump the noodles back into the tube system, but was stopped by a small cough from his princess.
“You try, it then!” he huffed under his breath.
“Very well,” Tomoyo agreed, accepting a covered lacquered box from a servant. She opened the lid to reveal a generous helping of peach ice and a ceramic spoon. “Fai-san, look at me.”
Kurogane rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, already knowing how this would end.
Unable to ignore a summons from his new princess, Fai peeped over his shoulder warily, eyes widening at the sight of a cold, sweet, treat. He flipped over so that he was crouched at the base of his cushions with an eager smile on his face. Frenetic energy suddenly replaced deep malaise.
“That's cheating,” Kurogane muttered. “And you,” he directed at Fai, “you're flashing half the room.”
Tomoyo arched an eyebrow, then redirected her attention to Fai who was slowly knee walking towards the treat, with a very small bit thigh showing. Kurogane could be a surprising prude when it came to Fai. “This is for you Fai-san, you may have it after you finish your dinner.”
Fai paused and his instant pout sent a titter of amusement through the tent.
“I suggest you hurry,” the princess counciled, or this ice will be melted by the time you are ready for it.”
Fai cast a longing look at the ice and then a resigned look at the cup of noodles in Kurogane's grip. He held out a hand, the sleeve of his yukata sliding back to reveal more red skin. As soon as he had the cup in-hand, he tipped it to his lips and began drinking the broth and inelegantly slurping up noodles.
“Oi”, Kurogane whispered harshly. “Use the hashi. Take mine if you have to.”
Fai smiled and swallowed, a few noodles sticking out of his mouth like catfish whiskers. He pulled those in and chewed. Smacking his lips after a swallow he repeated the process.
“You look like an idiot,” Kurogane complained.
“All done!” Fai crowed, handing the cup back to Kurogane, then he straightened up and pranced the rest of the way over to Tomoyo. “Now?” He winsomely dug the toes of one bare foot into the plush rug and swiveled his hips like a child.
Tomoyo handed the box of ice to Fai with a dimpled smile. “Now. Be sure to share with Kurogane-san.”
Shoving the first frigid bite into his mouth, Fai nodded happily, a delighted shiver going up his body.
“Forget it.” Kurogane said with a scowl. “Both of you know better than that.”
Winking at Tomoyo, Fai settled at the foot of her cushions and set to enjoying his ice. “More for me!”
“Did you learn anything from this?” the princess asked her Ninja.
“Yeah. Now he'll want sweets every time.”
Tomoyo frowned. “No, I was thinking more along the lines of tempting him with something he really wants to eat.” Leaning forward she chided softly so the words were just between the three of them, “Remember eating is the goal here.”
Fai made a happy sound into the box.
The ninja shrugged, his deep red yukata gathering around his shoulders. “Won't work with me.” He set his jaw, lips thinned. “He'll eat like a normal person or not eat. We can wait as long as he wants. I figure he'll eat when he gets hungry enough.”
“So mean,” Fai whined licking his spoon, the empty box sitting on his lap.
Tomoyo huffed, her breath ruffling her bangs. “Are you are missing my point on purpose?”
“Yeah, whatever. I'm going to bed.” Kurogane bowed to his princess, turned and stepped to the edge of the carpet, toed on his geta and clacked noisily down the paved walkway towards the castle entrance.
“Too loud,” Souma complained. “He can do better than that.”
“Hmm, he must be trying to say something, ne, Fai-san?” Tomoyo asked with a slight tilt to her head.
A soft smile twisted the magician's lips. “Perhaps. I think I must also bid you lovely ladies goodnight.” He gracefully found his feet and handed the sticky box and spoon to a hovering servant. “Thank you for the sweet.”
“Your grasp of our language is improving,” Tomoyo noted, acknowledging his thanks with a nod.
Fai bowed. “I am surrounded by excellent teachers.”
“Some more patient than others?” Tomoyo guessed, motioning him closer to further ensure their privacy.
Fai rubbed his neck ruefully as he leaned his ear toward the princess's lips. “You could say that, Hime.”
“You know, he would be calmer if you didn't worry him so much.”
The sudden frankness took Fai by surprise and he could only stand there with surprised eyes.
The next words were softer. “You've lost too much weight this summer. It's obvious the heat makes you ill.”
Fai, lowered his eyes. “But what can I do? I don't want to over worry him,” he whispered.
Tomoyo tweaked his ear. “Let him take care of you. He's trying and your fighting it doesn't help.”
“Ah,” was all Fai could say, unable to meet her eyes.
“Now follow him and see what he wants,” she said shooing him away.
Sweat dripped down Fai's neck as he stood before the sliding door to the room he shared with Kurogane. The cotton of his yukata weighed damply on his skin, irritating the sun burn on his shoulders. It was so much hotter in the castle proper. Why couldn't they sleep in the pavilion? If only he could find a snow drift to roll around in.
But Celes was gone, and it only snowed in Nihon during the winter. The best he could hope for was stripping down to the skin and praying for a breeze to come in through the room's veranda. The food rumbled in is belly, threatening to sour and ache, making him curse his sweet tooth.
He slid the door open, kicked off his zori, and stepped in – his eyes immediately searching out his lover sitting in the doorway leading to the veranda, his gaze pinned to the waxing moon. Red eyes slid over to him briefly before aiming back at the sky.
“Tadima,” Fai called, and his voice sounded weak even to him. Noting the futon had already been laid out, Fai staggered to it, flopped onto his stomach and stretched out his limbs appreciating the coolness of the fresh bedding and willing his stomach to settle.
“TaDAIma,” Kurogane corrected absently.
Fai could feel Kurogane's eyes back on him again and soon soft foot steps slid towards the bed, accompanied by shifting cotton as the ninja knelt beside him.
“Take that off,” Kurogane said tugging at the obi knot at Fai's back. The knot quickly came loose and Kurogane began easing the damp yukata over Fai's shoulders. “Tch,” he hissed as Fai lifted his arms allowing the garment to come free. “When did this happen?” He ran a gentle finger over the angry red skin on Fai's back.
Fai hissed into his arms. “I went swimming to cool down today. And stayed out too long.”
“Swimming? Where?”
A tired laugh. “Where do you think?”
“Not...the...sacred...koi...pond...
“Yes, there. And as you can see, your Gods have already punished me, so don't start,” Fai said peevishly irritated at the heat, pain, nausea, and the stupid restrictions of his new land. EVERYTHING seemed to be sacred and thus off limits.
A rough chuckle sounded over the sound of a cloth wringing out water.
“What's so funny, kuro-ahhh!” the mage exclaimed as a cool cloth dabbed softly over his back.
“You are.” Kurogane dipped the cloth back in a basin of water. “Feel good?” he asked, wringing it out again and carefully draping over the red skin on Fai's back.
“Yessssss,” Fai sighed, letting his shoulders relax. “Thank you.” His irritation ebbed away with the coolness.
The only answer was a gentle snort. Kurogane was smarter than to say how pleased he was with Fai's increasingly honest communications. They still were not common place and the quickest way to scare them away was to comment on them.
The process continued for a few moments until Fai asked again, “What was funny about me?”
“Your total disregard for good manners.”
Fai turned his head so a blue eye could peer at Kurogane through wisps of blond. “I'm very mannerly,” he stated stoutly.
“When you want to be.”
“What makes you say that?” Fai blinked looking falsely innocent.
There was that fake look again. Kurogane opted for the shock of truth. “Disrupting the pond in the meditation gardens is disrespectful. Eating without utensils is disrespectful. Making the Hime bribe you to eat is also disrespectful.”
“VERY disrespectful, or just a tiny bit?” Fai asked hopefully.
Kuro ignored that, and shared more truth. “I also told you to stay out of the sun. Now look at you.”
“But... it was so hot...the water looked so nice.”
“This happened in the desert world. You should know better.” Despite his intentions to sound tough, to hold Fai accountable for the impact of his actions, a sliver of worry flavored his words.
Fai hid his head in his arms and bit his chapped lips, thinking back on Tomoyo's earlier words. “I'm sorry, Kurogane,” he said after awhile. “This heat makes me stupid.”
The sound of a lid being pried off a container was loud in the silence.
“This will help the burn,” Kurogane murmured as he spread a cool cream over Fai's back.
“What's in it?”
“Calendula and mint.”
“I don't know that first word. Teach me?” The smell of the mint agreed with his stomach, an unexpected bonus.
“Doesn't matter.”
“Why not?” Fai asked cautiously.
“I don't think you should stay here.”
Fai has been letting his eyes drift closed as the cooling cream soothed his skin, but now they popped open again. “Wh-what?”
“Never mind.” The words were like a slammed door. Go no further.
Fai reached back and grabbed Kurogane's hand. “Seriously, what do you mean?” Panic edged his words like ice around the sides of a freezing pool.
“This,” Kuro included all of Nihon in a sweep of his hand, “isn't good for you.”
Fai's face blanked for a minute then came the old empty smile hid everything. He let go of Kurogane's hand as be began to disassociate. It had finally happened....
Kurogane grabbed the hand back and squeezed it. “Don't be stupid. I'm not kicking you out. We need to go somewhere else. Together.”
Fai remained frozen, his mind still wandering away from his heart.
“Oi! Don't be an idiot!” Kurogane squeezed the thin hand until the small pain brought intelligence back into Fai's eyes. “Don't do this again. Why do are you so ready to think I'd....” he trailed off.
“Leave me?” Fai finished softly. This wasn't how he wanted to feel cold. The ache in his stomach was eclipsed by the one in his heart. Even now he knew what Kuro had really meant, he still hurt, felt a little raw.
Kurogane huffed. “Together. We will go together.”
“What makes you think that going is needed?” Fai asked, slowly relaxing his face, breathing in the relaxing smell of the cream.
“In the desert, you idiot, we thought you 'd die.”
Flipping to an elbow Fai pulled free from Kuro's hand, and stared into his eyes noting the pain there. “This is hardly the dessert.”
A metallic finger carefully flicked away a peeling shred of skin from a pink nose. “No, but you look the same.”
Fai reached up and pressed his hand to the warm metal. “I'm fine.”
“Stop it.” Kurogane pulled his hand away abruptly as if stung by the lie. “I wonder what a cold world would cost me?” He capped the cream and tossed the jar onto the futon.
“You stop it,” Fai snapped, mood tilting back to hot and frustrated. “You only have so many limbs left, and I like having both of my eyes, thank you very much! When will you believe that I'm okay?”
“Maybe about the time you'll stop expecting me to leave you.”
“Not the same,” Fai protested. “Believe me, I am fine.”
“It IS the same if you think I'll just let you starve to death as long as you are 'fine'?” Rough fingers poked painfully at shadowed ribs. “I can count these! You're a damn skeleton.”
“That hurt!” Fai snarled. “Damn you, think!” He scrambled up from the futon angrily gathering his yukata around his body and tightly tying the obi. “You saw my past... you saw me. THAT is skeletal. THAT is what I look like when I don't eat. This is nothing.”
“Sure, let's wait till you're practically dead before we do anything.” Kurogane was close to shouting.
Fai walked to the engawa door and leaned against the frame, his back to the ninja. “It's way too hot for this. What do you want?”
“Too make it better, ” the words rang with intense sincerity, only a flavor of his earlier temper around them.
“By leaving? This is your home. I couldn't do that to you,” Fai tossed a sad little smile over his shoulder. “My home doesn't even exist anymore. You should enjoy yours.”
“Then what can I do?”
“It's only a few months, I can make it through,” Fai paused remembering Tomoyo's words. “But you can help.”
Attentive silence was the response.
“Don't take my complaints too seriously – you know the real problem is when I stop talking. Please stop making me eat- its worse than being hungry. Believe me I can survive a very long time without food.”
“I see you suffering,”Kuro said turning away and gripping his own yukata tightly.
Fai walked back to Kurogane, knelt behind him and cradled the Ninja's head to his shoulder. “I'm glad you don't understand, but this suffering is NOTHING compared to things I have endured. This is living, when before I was dying with out the release of death.”
Kurogane wrapped his arms around Fai's arms, his fierce hug communicating his regret for Fai's past.
Fai nodded his heads towards the two ihai on a low table near the engawa's wooden shutters. Incense sticks next to them were burning, sending spicy smoke into the warm air. “Besides, my brother is here with your family. How could I ask him to leave?”
End
* An Ihai is a tablet left before a Buddhist altar to commemorate a deceased loved one. The mortuary tablet is usually placed in front of the Buddhist altar with incense burning. The family of the deceased usually chants sutras or Buddhist scriptures at this tablet. The ihai takes the form of a wood or stone tablet that is engraved with a name given to the deceased as a posthumous name.
A/N: I know, I know Fai struggling with the heat is not a new concept, but this is the fic that wanted to be written, so here it is. Hope you enjoyed it and if readers from long ago fandoms stumble across this you can see I haven't stopped writing completely, though it is close!
Progress
By Diane Long
A gift for Flaked Ice to express gratitude for her wonderful Lord and Prince AU XxX-Holic stories.
Set directly after False Physician
Kimihiro traced a finger idly against the intricate wards carved into the window sills of his study as he squinted past his back-lit reflection to watch the spirits milling about on the moonlit drive below. It was difficult to tell if the crowd was slowly swelling or not. The fact that spirits were on his lands at all was cause for anxiety, even if he knew the house’s wards would hold for now.
This increased anxiety had been wearing him down to exhaustion, but sleep had been elusive this night between the lingering taste of sweet potatoes on his tongue, and the memory of the prince’s hand grasping his own hand…holding his elbow…resting at the nape of his neck. Most of the touches had been through proper layers of clothing or gloves, but the touch of smooth fingers to the back of his neck had left a lingering sensation that had not yet left him.
His own hand drifted up to cup his neck. Did it mean anything? He had accepted Doumeki’s friendship- something unfamiliar in and of itself. Was it fair to suspect his friend of ulterior motives? He might have just been trying to help in the best way he could. Did it have to be a sly machination?
Of course not! Nostrils flaring, Kimihiro removed his hand and smoothed down his smoking jacket. A gift from Yuko, the deep blue and purple velvet provided the needed warmth for a sleepless night. A sharp tug ensured the belt was cinched securely, and the young lord inspected the low fire’s reflection in the window. It was a wonder that Hikideshi and a sleeping draught had not made an appearance yet.
Almost on cue, the butler rapped briskly on the door and entered. Turning his upper body towards the door, Kimihiro eyed the tray supporting a decanter of spirits and its two accompanying snifters held aloft by the servant and raised an eye brow.
“It seems you were not the only one struggling to find your rest, my lord.”
As Hikideshi set the tray on a low table with a muffled clack, the object of Kimihiro’s ruminations paced nonchalantly into the study going straight for the choice armchair that was the perfect distance from the fire.
Forgetting his confusion for the moment, Kimihiro fell into their old pattern, and ground his teeth. It wasn’t the late night visit that particularly bothered him- they both kept odd hours. It was the chair, that was his chair, and that jerk had visited often enough to know it. Just because Kimihiro was standing now, didn’t mean he might not want to take a seat. His manners barely restrained him from attempting to physically relocate his liege to a chair more suitable for guests. He hoped his pointed look would communicate the message.
Catching the look but missing the meaning, Doumeki looked wistfully at the end table by his chair, clearly disappointed by the lack of pastry.
“You do realize the time?” Kimihiro bit out, changing tactics, having decided that getting Doumeki to go home would free up his chair as well as anything else.
“I didn’t wake you,” Doumeki replied, moving the chair closer to the fire – thus ruining its perfect placement- and stretching out his legs. The sound of Kimihiro’s knuckles cracking went unremarked.
“How did you get here? I didn’t hear your carriage.”
“I walked.”
“In the cold dark of a winter’s night?” Kimihiro asked incredulously.
Doumeki shrugged and scooted so close to the fire he and the chair were almost inside the grate.
“I don’t care how cold you are- don’t singe the fabric on that chair!”
“Is there anything else you require?” Hikideshi asked, already half out of the study.
“That will be all,” Kimihiro said, looking back out the window. “It’s far too late to be digesting,” he added for his guest’s benefit. If food came out now there would be no getting rid of him.
The study door clicked shut and a decidedly awkward silence filled the room, punctuated by occasional pops and hisses from the fire. Awkward for Kimihiro anyway, being alone with their author in the room it was difficult to ignore the tactile memories of earlier touches. The nape of his neck prickled and it felt as if the small hairs there were standing up.
Keeping his back to Doumeki, Kimihiro watched him in the window’s reflection. As usual, the expression of his friend revealed little as he peered into the flames, seeming comfortable with the silence. And he looked settled in too.
This could last the night through Kimihiro despaired, changing his mind and wishing he had sent Hikideshi for light refreshment- at least then there might have been some sort of distraction. Maybe Hikideshi could come back and they could all play a round of Whist.
As it was, his body was thrumming from the recollected touches and he could not sort it all out with that damned confusing prince dozing in front of the fire.
.
Deciding a drink might help, Kimihiro took soft steps towards the decanter which also allowed him direct sight of Doumeki. He paused, his hand pausing above the cut crystal vessel. “Just what do you think you are wearing?” he asked in disbelief.
Doumeki looked down at his starched white shirt sleeves and soft gray breeches. A faint smile pulled on the edge of his mouth. “What I wear most days.”
Kimihiro’s weight shifted so one hip jutted out and his hands landed on both hip bones, a perfect picture of vexation. “No vest, no jacket, no cravat, and sir, may I inform you that your collar is missing entirely?”
Doumeki’s smile grew into his eyes. “The collar is being pressed for tomorrow.”
Kimihiro’s eyes narrowed, sensing he was being mocked. “As for the rest?”
“As for the rest, it is the middle of the night.” Doumeki yawned, underscoring his point.
“Do you often present yourself to your hosts in such dishabille?”
“Don’t you always receive your guests in your robes?” came the calm rejoinder as Doumeki scooted even closer to the fire.
Stung by the truth of it, Kimihiro turned to the table with the decanter and angrily yanked out the stopper, letting it clatter to the silver tray. He poured two healthy slugs of whisky into the snifters and stood there seething.
“I’ve been ill,” he stated stiffly after a while, looking down in to the filled glasses. “It…it helps to be comfortable. I didn’t think you minded.”
“I don’t,” said a voice, coming from much closer than expected.
Kimihiro stiffened, causing his back to brush against Doumeki's chest. “What…?”
Two warm hands gently closed around his upper arms. “I wanted to be comfortable too.” The words whispered along the bare skin of Kimihiro’s neck, coaxing the residual tingles into a full body shiver.
“You…too close…”
“Did you enjoy the sweet potatoes?” Doumeki pressed. Again, the moist air of the words played along the sensitive skin and down Kimihiro’s spine.
“Step back,” Kimihiro whispered, plucking at the hands gripping his arms.
“Did you?” The words and lips were one entity caressing Kimihiro’s skin.
“Yes! Now back up!” The strangled answer came out as a low whisper.
“Is that all you enjoyed?” Each word was a kiss.
“I don’t know!” Kimihiro shuddered with unfamiliar sensations. He barely knew how to have a friend, now there was this…whatever this was. He was burning up and his head was spinning. He didn’t know what to do.
Doumeki stilled but did not let go. “Am I scaring you?”
“Of course not!” Kimihiro lied leaning away from the prince. “What is this?” he demanded.
“A kiss,” the prince instructed brushing his lips against Kimihiro’s hair line, savoring his companion’s sharp intake of breath.
Kimihiro knew what a kiss was. He just thought he would never receive one.
The brushes of lips became moist open mouth kisses all focused along the back of Kimihiro’s neck. They were quite wonderful and he went from embarrassment to craving more.
Just as he leaned back against Doumeki and let his thoughts fly away, quite suddenly the grip was gone as were the kisses. Kimihiro straightened and turned a flushed face to Doumeki who was downing his whisky in a long pull.
Quickly the impropriety of the situation came back to the surface of his mind and Kimihiro slid out from between the prince and the table. One hand rubbed at his neck as he backed up to the fire place all the while staring at Doumeki.
Doumeki set his glass down and sauntered to the door. “Try to get some sleep.” He opened the door and stepped into the darkened corridor.
“Wait!” Kimihiro snapped. “Just what was that?” he demanded, sounding half annoyed and half fearful. “You – you can’t just kiss people out of the blue then leave!”
With out turning Doumeki lifted his hand in a causal wave and continued down the hall.
“Come back here you rake! I’m not finished with you!”
- Mood:
happy
An XXXholic fanfic drabble by Di Long
“Don’t do anything too naughty while we’re away!” Yuko chortled as the last wisps of her inky hair swept into the dimensional portal strung between the door posts leading to the engawa. Mokona’s knowing snort was faint – knowing him, he had already reached the other end of the passage without waiting for Yuko.
The portal dissipated with a ‘pop’ and Watanuki was left with the only the garden to address with a snappy come-back.
He snarled anyway and pulled the white kerchief off of his head in frustration. “You’re one to talk! Maybe YOU should try to behave instead of ruining your liver…or MY life!”
He took a deep breath to continue, but after a pause, he just blew it out and sunk to his knees beside a cluttered table. It was hard to get worked up without an audience. He shoved the kerchief into his smock’s pocket and looked outside.
Silence, an old companion, settled around him as he watched the sakura petals spiral to the ground. He had long stopped being impressed by the year-round blooms in Yuko’s gardens. They never changed.
He began to gather empty sake sets and plates onto his serving tray, clacking the pottery together just for the noise. He wrinkled his nose at the sticky residue on the table and crumbs all over the floor.
“Pigs,” he whispered without venom. His lips twisted into a small smile as he ran a moist cloth over the lacquered table top. “Totally out of control. What would they do with out me?”
Or what would he do without them? The peaceful silence in this usually manic space reminded him of his lonely apartment. Since the death of his parents, his life had become very quiet and grey. His interactions with Yuko and that Domeki had brought him noise and colour through annoyance and vigor. He kind of liked it in a masochistic kind of way.
Even so, he knew very well that it might not last. The silence was always waiting around the corner for the least invitation. It always caught him at the end of the day – a constant reminder that he was ultimately alone. How long before it became permanent again? Finding it even here in the foothills of hell just underscored its inevitability.
Balancing the full tray of crockery, he pushed up to his feet and carried his burden into the surprisingly modern kitchen. The dishwasher was soon loaded and the more artistic pottery pieces hand washed, dried, and stored away. As he dried his hands, he realized that an odd part of today’s quiet was the lack of any sign of Maru and Moro.
He spread the dishtowel on the counter to dry and padded into the hall to investigate. He pushed open the first half-closed shoji screen he came to and smiled down upon the girls. They were curled up together, ying and yang like, above an ornate Mandela woven into the carpet. Deeply asleep, their little chests moved up and down regularly and they smiled as if having wonderful dreams. The pipe fox spirit nestled between them and if Watanuki strained, he could barely hear it purring.
Yuko had mentioned that the girls were working hard on something and needed lots of rest. Watanuki’s expression turned gentle as he closed the paper screens with a soft click. Let them sleep, he was sure they had earned it. Living here 100% of the time had to be exhausting.
He pulled off the white smock, revealing his black and white summer school uniform. Hanging it on its usual hook near the kitchen he looked around the house. What next? Should he stay here and do his homework or go home and do it? Either place was just as quiet. One had silent family pictures, the other silent sleepers. He walked into what he liked to think of as Yuko’s throne room and set delicately on the end of her fainting couch to think.
Instead of homework, his thoughts strayed to the future. Would all of this be his one day? He half suspected it would. He also suspected that when that happened, he would be completely alone. Why would he need to take over if Yuko and her attendants were still around? Would he become Yuko in his own way?
He clenched his hands – so the noise and the color were just temporary: A fleeting change to lure him into this bizarre apprenticeship. He needed to not get too attached.
Humans are always alone. He knew that very well.
But still- it was hard not to care about the little family that had grown up around him. Even if for only a short while, he belonged to someone. Someone cared for him and he cared back. Impossible not to get attached. He was going to be hurt – shattered when it all ended.
Perhaps that was part of being human too.
His chuckle surprised him. He was more normal then he had realized. He was willing to risk the pain for just a moment of happiness. Just like the rest of Yuko’s customers. Those hopeless fools.
April’s fool.
Sitting on the throne in his plain clothing felt wrong. If nothing else, the rough cotton of his trousers caught on the velvet upholstery. He found himself drawn to the room on the opposite wall, the room where Yuko kept her dazzling collection of exotic kimonos and robes. The door was normally kept closed, to hide the clutter and mess, no doubt.
But today, it was open, almost in invitation.
Which Watanuki knew was not a coincidence. Giving up to the inevitable, he left the couch and went into the room. He was right about the mess part. He hated to think of the ruined and wrinkled silks and damasks wadded at his feet. He certainly would not be ironing them!
Other items were more cared for and carefully hung on racks and hooks crowding the large room. Enshrined in the middle was what had to be meant for him, a deep blue and aquamarine Chinese styled smoking jacket displayed prominently on a dressmaker’s form. The long silk trailed down to the floor and was embellished with dragons. The cut was slightly more masculine than Watanuki had seen Yuko wear.
This was his future – to become Yuko. It had to be.
Would the loneliness drive him to drink too?
While he worried, his hands began unbuttoning his shirt and pants. Soon all of his mundane clothing joined the other items on the floor and he stood, small, pale and naked before the jacket.
He felt numb- did this mean Yuko was never coming back? Were the girls and the fox spirit already gone? Was he alone again?
He ran a hand over the smooth silk. It would feel cool and slick against his skin. It would make him the prince of this place that didn’t quite belong in any world.
Proof perfect that he didn’t belong anywhere.
His hand shrank back as he felt noise and irritation surging through his hopelessness. Not again – he didn’t want his future to be like his past.
“No! I won’t do it! You can’t make me!” he shouted to the listening house. “I do have choices!”
Without looking he grabbed another garment off of a rack and shimmied into it instead of the preordained raiment. It was a vermillion yukata made out of densely woven Egyptian cotton – almost like silk in its own way. Embroidered on it were thousands of yellow maples leaves swirling about the hem and sleeve ends. He tied the orange obi around his waist tighter than needed, pushing his posture a little more straight.
He posed in the mirror – thinking the reds made him look feistier than the muted blues. “I’ll do this – but on my terms,” he told his reflection firmly. “I want Yuko back. I’m not ready to be alone.” He felt the house exhale around him.
His reflection stared back at him with flushed cheeks and fly away hair. He could have sworn that it shrugged independently of him, but was distracted by the sounds of his cell phone ringing from his pant’s pocket on the floor.
Showing long pale legs, he fumbled around for the phone and flipped it open without looking to see who called. “What?!” he shouted aggrievedly, embarrassed to have been interrupted while trying on Yuko’s clothes. What if anyone found out?
“Oi. I liked the blue one better,” came a familiar voice shattering the last of the shell of sadness that had been tightening around Watanuki’s heart.
“What?” Watanuki screeched. “Can I have no privacy?! What were you thinking of looking in on me with our eye?! Could you not see I was changing my clothes? You pervert, if you are going to insist on peeking at me you can have the damned eye back!”
“The blue matches your eyes,” Domeki said calmly.
“Did you not just hear me? One of my eyes is yellow now, thank you very much! I think the red goes better with that eye! It’s too bad that both eyes don’t match, you bastard!”
“Bastard!” “Bastard!” came two sleepy, but giggling voices from down the hall.
“Don’t say that word!” Watanuki shouted towards the hall. “Now look what you’ve done!” he directed into the phone.
“Me?”
“No! No! No! No!” Watanuki shrieked as the pipe fox streaked into the room and immediately dove into the yukata and slithering around Watanuki’s bare skin.
“When do you get off of work and what’s for dinner?” Domeki asked as if Watanuki wasn’t gasping in outraged laughter. (And as if he wasn’t seeing the whole thing.)
“Agh!” Watanuki shouted, stomping out of the dressing room towards the kitchen, pipe fox in one hand and the cell phone in the other. “I can’t cook in this! Who knows what Yuko will charge me if I stain it!”
“Then take it off,” Domeki suggested.
The scream that resulted made the house flicker out of modern Japan’s reality for just an instant. “Will I ever be rid of you?”
Watanuki leaned against the kitchen counter breathing heavily. He had forgotten about Domeki’s power to keep his anchored to the world. He would never be free of that jerk.
For now the silence was gone.
- Location:Home Office
- Music:The Clash
- Mood:
hopeful - Music:The Clash
( The first half )
- Location:Home Office
- Mood: hopeful
- Music:Pink Martini
Its good because it is a fun thing to do, and an excuse to stop lurkinn and get involved in my new fandoms, AND it will give me a place to archive all of my Daria and Tenchi fanfics that have been lost to me - my computer died recently taking all that is good with it. As soon as I go find my fics, I will get them up here.
So hi to all my new friends and I hope some of my old ones will find me here.
Di Long
- Location:Post bubble bath
- Mood:
nerdy - Music:Ambient nature
