Fushigi Yuugi: When He's Gentle
Disclamers: The characters are not my creation. They are property of Yuu Watase and Emotions.
When He's Gentle
The sky was an incredible array of colours as Nuriko walked passed the palace garden towards the lake. The waters was calm with tiny little ripples that caught the dying sun's ray and turned it into a wonderful projection of red, orange, and yellow.
Nuriko looked his reflection, distorted by the gentle waves, but did not see it. He was thinking of what he saw yesterday. A house, a simple hut built with grass, with a table, a bed, and children inside. But the table was broken, the bed smashed, and the children were dead.
He let out a shuddering breath as he remembered seeing a tiny outstretched hand through the open door. A tiny voice. "Yuiren's always been... a good girl..."
"Children," he choked. The hot sting of tears in the corner of his eyes alarmed him and he wiped at them angrily. They left his skin soft and tender, scorched almost.
The last time he saw Tomahome's family, he remembered the laughter. How he and Miaka had surprised him. And Miaka trying to disappear. Him, Nuriko, telling Tamahome's father that Tomahome and Miaka made it all the way to "C." Oh dear God, did they really laugh back then?
Everything seemed full of sorrow at this moment.
The waters were turning darker, the deep red shade slowly growing black. It wouldn't long before it was completely dark. They were to go off tomorrow, sailing towards Hakkon. He should get some rest but he didn't feel like leaving the bridge yet.
He kept seeing the dead children, the father, Amiboshi's twin. What a tragic mistake. A miscalculation that caused five innocent people their lives and would cripple one young man for many days to come, perhaps until his very last breath. And Miaka was caught in the middle. Miaka, crying, hurt, just as torn as Tomahome was.
Nuriko clenched his fist and his set his jaw as he remember Tomahome's rage, his screams, the malicious glow of the ogre on his forehead. Beating Suboshi. Trying to kill him. The image sent needles pricks of electric sensations down Nuriko's back. Nuriko had stopped his rage, clinging to his back, yelling at him to stop. Crying too. "Tomahome... you're making Miaka think it's her fault..."
Tomahome had slowly calmed down, his body growing lax and limp in Nuriko's arm. A sign of sad surrender and he stepped out of Nuriko's embrace. Nuriko had fallen onto his knees, the rough material of the earth scratching his palms when he landed. His bracelets dangling, sounding like bells.
Right now, Nuriko was leaning over the rail of the bridge, his braid being tossed with the wind, his face blank like an unwritten sheet of paper. He felt nothing but a dull emptiness in his chest. What envy and jealousy he bore to Tomahome for having a loving family was now gone, replaced with remorse and sadness. To think, he was bitter about Tomahome's love directed at his father and siblings! But he had been. He wasn't proud of it, but he had. Nuriko felt another sharp gasp escape him as he remembered the pain. His parents who hated him because he wanted dolls and like wearing feminine dresses and picking flowers and cooking. His father that beat him, hoping that the blows might somehow turn him into a man. The fights, the angry accusations, the name calling, the silent meals, the hatred and tension was evident in every corner of the house.
"At least, Tomahome was crying when his family died," Nuriko said to himself. He didn't even feel the slightest bit sad when his parents were being lowered into the ground. He only felt relieved, free, both emotion tainted by the tragedy that his family never loved him.
The moon was up. He should be getting back. If he didn't, he'll think about the past too much and go crazy. He gathered his skirts and walked into the palace, passed the emperor's chamber.
A noise from the room made him stopped. He opened the door and went into the chamber uninvited.
Hotohori was sitting his table by his bed, his head in his hands, the gentle wisps of black hair tumbling down his back. Nuriko studied the man before him. He admired his broad shoulders, the graceful neck, the straight nose and beautiful hands. When he first laid eyes on the emperor, he thought he was an angel in disguise. The gods had made a mistake and sent one of the own into the world. He looked too beautiful and majestic to be part of the human race.
Nuriko spoke gently: "Hotohori."
Hotohori looked up, his eyes red as though he has been rubbing them. "Nuriko," he greeted faintly. And looked back down.
"Hotohori," Nuriko repeated. He took several steps until he was beside the king. "What's wrong?"
Hotohori shook his head. "It would be selfish to say..." he told him.
But Nuriko knew, and felt a stab at his heart. "It's Miaka, isn't it?"
"Miaka," Hotohori whispered. He sounded like he was saying a prayer. He hadn't stopped thinking about Miaka for the last few days. Miaka, who was with Tomahome right now at his village, burning his old house. Hotohori didn't know about Tomahome's family. Nuriko thought it was Tomahome's right to tell people about his tragedy. Hotohori looked at Nuriko. "I wished... I wish she didn't belong to Tomahome..."
I wish you didn't belong to her, Nuriko said in his heart. But he bit back his tongue and waited for the emperor to continue.
"I must sound selfish," Hotohori said.
"No," Nuriko assured him. He put out his hand towards Hotohori's hair and stopped halfway. He mustn't. He wanted to. No. "You don't sound selfish. I understand."
"I only want what's best for Miaka," Hotohori added.
They were silent for a while. The water lapped softly against the shore. Crickets sounded in the background. The candle on the table was dying. Nuriko finally took another step and took Hotohori into his arms. Hotohori didn't resist. He felt so good in Nuriko's arms. So strong and large, yet so vulnerable and childish at the same time. Nuriko buried his face in Hotohori's hair. Everything felt so right.
"You'll only give what's best for Miaka," Nuriko said into Hotohori's ears.
He held him until the emperor's breathing became even and his body relaxed. He was asleep. Nuriko tenderly laid Hotohori in bed. The sheets were soft and silky and Nuriko tucked Hotohori in their folds, straightening the pillows and stroking his hair. His hair was like satin, flowing softly through his fingers.
Nuriko brushed a lock of hair away from Hotohori's face. "He looks like an angel," he remarked with such love and tenderness it surprised even him. He leaned over and touched his mouth to Hotohori's. For a short second. A quick touch. A whisper of a caress on Hotohori's lips.
Nuriko straightened his back, his hair falling down his back in gentle waves as he did. "Good night, Hotohori," he said softly, and left the room.
He closed the door behind him securely and leaned back against them. He was angry at himself for taking advantage of the emperor like that but he was also contented. The moon was up and he made his way back to the pond.
Something held him back and he fell as if struck.
"HA HA! NURIKO!" that something shouted.
Nuriko landed on his knees again and turned to see who it was. "TASUKI!" Nuriko screamed, his hand ready to hit him. And then stopped. He lowered his hand to his side and looked the red haired urchin. Always ignorant but always lovable and sweet. "Tasuki, you little..." Nuriko said, laughing. He felt the tears come back and wiped at them.
"Nuriko," Tasuki exclaimed, alarmed. "Are you okay? You're crying."
Nuriko nodded. "I'm fine," he. He suddenly hugged Tasuki savagely. Tasuki looked scared, taken back, pleased, and uncomfortable all at the same time. After a while, he returned the hug. Nuriko finally pulled away and gave Tasuki a tearful smile, biting at his lip. "Tasuki, don't ever change, please," he said. He laughed and walked off, his skirts swirling on the floor.
"Huh?" Tasuki rubbed his head in a thought. "That person gets weirder every day," he thought. He waited outside for a few moments and finally he too headed off the bed.
--
watashi wa watashi.
-Rei
Neon Genesis Evangelion
