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shiraume_ficI'd held off posting on LJ because I wanted to get notes done as well. I'm not sure if it's feasible at all, so I'm posting now. I didn't really fix anything from the fanfiction.net version, so um. T__T
Whisper
[March 5, 2007 - March 20, 2007]
四. 竹里館 [죽리관]
It wasn't that Tezuka disregarded Atobe's warnings. It was just that his days at home were so dull that when Akizuki's invitation came, he accepted without thinking twice.
They never really talked much when together, but the afternoon found them even quieter, only the lone sound of shamisen filling the air. The garden was quiet, separated from the rest of the city by thick foliage and calls of the insects, but today, it made him even more conscious of the silence.
"Is it true that you're a dancer?" The question came out of nowhere, and Tezuka was surprised to hear himself. The pause of the shamisen was so brief, he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been watching.
"Was, Tezuka-han."
"And you will not dance. Not even for --" he paused, stopping his words mid-thought, and finished, "the Lord of Aizu."
Akizuki smiled and did not answer.
"You're not playing koto today?" The koto was nowhere in sight. Though Tezuka had brought the flute, Akizuki's shamisen never invited other sounds.
"Not today, Tezuka-han." His words were accompanied by a smile so sweet, one could have forgiven him for murder. Akizuki was dressed to his finest perfection that day: blue that put the sky to shame, yellow of the spring forsythia, and tinkling silver and turquoise hairpins. He waited on Tezuka with an attentive solicitousness that somehow irritated him, and Tezuka left early that day.
Akizuki poured himself a cup of sake after Tezuka left, shamisen left propped on the wall. A breeze stirred the hydrangea in full bloom, shaking the petals, and Akizuki shivered despite the warm weather. A name that should have been forgotten came to his lips, unbidden.
"Don't worry," he murmured softly. "I haven't forgotten."
The petals stilled as the breeze died down. Akizuki took another sip of the sake, his breath a sigh over the clear liquid.
"And I never will."
A humorless smile touched his lips, and Akizuki leaned on the wall. Even sake tasted sour on days like this, steeped in regret and warmed with weariness. With another soft exhalation, he closed his eyes.
~*~*~*~*~*~
When Akizuki returned to White Plum Teahouse that evening, he found the whole place in a stir. His plans to quietly retire quickly became useless, because one of the younger maiko burst into his room.
"Akizuki-onii-san, where have you been? The mistress has been looking for you all afternoon." Her pretty brows wrinkled. "Don't tell me you were with Tezuka-han again? The mistress will be furious. You haven't been seeing even half the customers who asked for you, and --"
"What does the mistress want with me?" He was usually more patient, but he was tired and wanted nothing more than to rest. The maiko was unfazed.
"She won't say. But..." she lowered her voice, biting her lip and looking every bit like a little girl she should have been. "I heard the Shogun has asked to see you."
His head rose mechanically. "What?"
"The Shogun. He's visiting Kyoto this month? He must have heard about you from the samurai who serve the Lord of Aizu, since a lot of them came to see you recently."
When Akizuki arrived, only the top senior geisha were in the mistress's quarters. Suzuran's dark eyes were ablaze, occasionally sweeping over him with hatred. The mistress was saying what an honor it was, that one of her students would be called to entertain the Shogun! Akizuki only half-listened to her, feeling uninterested and uncaring about everything.
"No, perhaps a dance would..." Suzuran was saying, and Akizuki turned his head, snapped back to here and now.
"But this child hasn't danced in four years! Surely, the koto and..." One of the senior geisha was objecting. The mistress looked from one to the other, placid expression giving away nothing. Akizuki knew he was probably smiling just a bit, his customary expression to mask his emotions, and envied the mistress for her composure.
"The Shogun hasn't specified what he wishes to see," the mistress finally said. Her gaze swept through the room, instantly silencing the others, and came to rest on Akizuki's face. "Prepare what you would. You will perform before many lords and their favored courtesans and musicians." She paused. "No one else from our teahouse has been invited, and I will not forget my place and appear uninvited. I trust you will do fine on your own."
Akizuki bowed his head, relieved no one else would be going. Some of the younger girls openly idolized him, and many of the older geisha -- and especially Suzuran -- hated him. He didn't care much about what they thought, but disliked having to deal with them while he was performing. After the mistress's announcement, there wasn't much to discuss, and Akizuki bowed to her and withdrew.
~*~*~*~*~*~
He dreamed.
He dreamed of a familiar shrine, of faded leaves strewn on the ground, and the white and red attire of a shrine maiden. With a start he realized his body was moving automatically, following the familiar steps of the shrine maiden's ceremonial dance. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop. A pair of wide, unblinking eyes watched him. He could not look away.
"You blame me too, don't you?" he asked, but his voice would not come. Nevertheless, he knew the boy had heard him. The boy's eyes weren't icy with hatred, like his father's had been, but in life, they had never been so expressionless, either.
"I'm not going to apologize," he mouthed. His eyes burned.
The boy's eyes softened, and he slowly shook his head, looking rueful. The expression was so nostalgic, Akizuki's breath caught in his throat. The wind swept up the leaves, pelting his body with fallen leaves, and haul of the wind drowned out the boy's words.
Akizuki awoke before the first light, feeling frozen.
~*~*~*~*~*~
The Shogun was greatly pleased by his skills with koto and shamisen, his grasp on poetry and literature, and his poise. And the Shogun richly rewarded him, both with jewels and by taking him to bed. Akizuki withdrew from the Shogun's bedchamber in the morning, but it wasn't until midday that he returned to the teahouse, tired and worn.
Just his luck, Akizuki thought to himself, with a bitter sort of humor, that he would run into Suzuran first.
"Not quite the triumphant entry," Suzuran said pleasantly. "Was the Shogun displeased with your performance?"
"Then he would have sent me back yesterday." Akizuki made to pass by him, but Suzuran nimbly stepped in the way.
"I was referring to your performance in bed."
"Were you?" His friendly voice was one breath shy of openly mocking. "If you'd let the mistress know your willingness to make up for my deficiencies in that area, I'm sure she would have let you tag along." His smile was venomous. "After all, the men you've spent the night with couldn't talk enough about your...talent." He was tired and his temper was fraying at the edges. Suzuran was prodding at what he had no business prodding, and he'd been sick and tired of Suzuran lately.
"Your only talent, that is."
Suzuran was quick, but Akizuki was quicker. Hard slap of a hand grabbing a thin wrist in mid-strike, and Suzuran winced, trying to wrench his wrist out of Akizuki's grip. Akizuki held him with surprising strength, and the unsmiling eyes bored into him. Suzuran swallowed.
"Let go."
"Yes. Scurry back to the shadows and eavesdrop and scheme to your heart's content. But do not cross me. I've better things to do." The contempt in Akizuki's eyes cut deep, and Suzuran pressed his lips in a thin line.
"Don't be so arrogant just because you've got a bit of talent."
The look that crossed Akizuki's eyes was a mixture of amusement and irony. He released Suzuran and pushed past him.
"Coward."
Akizuki did not stop or turn.
"You strut in here and play at being a geisha, and why? All because your little lover's death."
Akizuki froze mid-step, back stiff. A malicious smile spread on Suzuran's face, realizing he'd hit home. "Everyone knows you showed up in the garb of a shrine maiden. No one knows the truth though, do they? You're just dabbling in arts because your little love died on you," Suzuran hissed. "Hypocrite. For us, this is life. For you, it's nothing but an escape, a place you can flaunt your talents. Why don't you dance, Akizuki? Would your dead lover be angry that you --"
Faster than he could blink, Akizuki slammed him into the wall. For a moment Suzuran saw stars, stunned, and clawed blindly at the hand squeezing his throat. Icy blue eyes swam into his focus, and Suzuran forgot to struggle, forgot to breathe, frozen by the death he saw in the depthless gaze. For a wild moment, Suzuran believed Akizuki would kill him right then and there, but Akizuki pushed away as if burned. With all the lethal grace of a tiger, Akizuki stalked down the hallway toward his room, and Suzuran finally breathed, gingerly touching his throat. He was shivering.
Suzuran swallowed his tears, angry that Akizuki could frighten him so. He shakily made his way to the kitchen and slapped the maid who fetched him tea, taking cold comfort in the familiar viciousness. Suzuran retired, but could not rest, torn between fury and envy. Being a male in Flower Town invariably meant low status, whether as a servant, a kabuki actor, or a prostitute. As a small child Suzuran had vowed he would never settle for such a place in life. To get where he was now, Suzuran had had to work harder than anyone else in his teahouse. Eventually he found his body just as useful as his arts to gain status, but not Akizuki; Akizuki might have sold his art, but his favor he would barter with courtship. How Akizuki got away with his games, evading impatient demands of the patrons, he had no idea, but it galled him. Worst of all, Akizuki, who was the first male geisha to be summoned by the Shogun, acted like such honor meant nothing. That one person could hold so much, have everything, yet act as if he didn't need them in the first place...it made him grind his teeth in frustration. Then, what did that make those like Suzuran, who had to crawl and scrabble to get where they were?
Suzuran clutched the comforter tightly, unsuccessfully trying to sleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Within a day, from officials at the imperial court to lowly pageboy, the whole population of Kyoto knew Akizuki had been summoned by the Shogun, and amply praised and rewarded for his performance. Tezuka had always prided himself in his ability to tune out other people, but he found it utterly unhelpful this time.
Either the courtiers had a lot less work to do in their days than he thought, or the people of the city had quite a vivid imagination. Every detail was described, from the fine embroidery on Akizuki's kimono to how the Shogun had looked at him, mesmerized, pouring sake for Akizuki with his own hands, and how the whole night, the Shogun's eyes had rested on Akizuki alone. How Akizuki was allowed to leave the Shogun's bedchamber only after the sun had risen high in the sky, so pleased was the Shogun.
Tezuka clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. Akizuki was a geisha, an entertainer. The Shogun was de facto the ruler of Japan. Akizuki had no right to refuse the Shogun's favors -- in fact, couldn't expect to survive were he to refuse such an 'honor.'
The wall shook with impact where his fist had landed. Surprised bystanders hurried on after one look at his face. Tezuka saw none of them.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Four days later, Akizuki received a letter from Tezuka. Calling himself thrice the fool for the joy trembling in his heart, he unfolded the paper, and could not help a soft sound, halfway between a sigh and a laugh.
Quietly he slipped out, taking care no one from the teahouse saw him leave. His steps were purposeful, destination clear and certain in his mind. As he expected, he found Tezuka in the old pavilion hidden in the depths of a bamboo grove. The lone sound of the flute was clear and stately in the quiet of the grove.
The flute stopped, and Tezuka turned to him with a small smile tugging at his mouth.
"You should smile more," Akizuki said, crossing the wooden floor to join him.
"And you should smile less," Tezuka countered. "Especially when you don't want to smile."
"I am a geisha, merely a flower that understands speech." Akizuki's voice was carefully neutral.
"Have I ever treated you as one?"
Akizuki did not answer for a long moment. "No."
"'I miss you, and the only way to see you is in the dreams / When I came seeking you, you went away seeking me'," Tezuka murmured, holding out a hand to him, and Akizuki took it.
"'So I pray, someday soon, in another night's dream / At once, together, may we meet on the same road'." Akizuki's expression wavered for a moment, fighting for calm. "It is not a well-known poem."
"It is beautiful nonetheless," Tezuka answered. Akizuki closed his eyes, visibly trying to compose himself.
"I was but a child when I quoted that poem to another child, both of us playing at love." Akizuki's eyes met his, and the naked pain he saw there staggered Tezuka. "He'd never been fond of poetry, always calling it useless. He'd preferred a more...practical art. After he...I haven't heard this poem since."
In a flash Tezuka understood why Akizuki had reacted like that before, when Tezuka quoted the poem to him. He cupped Akizuki's pale cheek, meeting his eyes. "I'm sorry for causing you pain."
"You did not know." Akizuki leaned into the touch. "You remind me of him."
"Are we that alike?"
Soft laugh. "Yes, and no." Softened blue eyes found his, and Tezuka brushed his thumb over Akizuki's cheekbone. "You are what he will never become."
With that, Akizuki closed the distance between them, and Tezuka caught him. When Tezuka lowered him to the wooden floor, Akizuki pulled him down, and for one perfect night, their heartbeat and breath mingled as one. The wind murmured quiet whispers in the forest of aged bamboos, where only the moonlight watched from afar.
[March 5, 2007 - March 20, 2007]
四. 竹里館 [죽리관]
It wasn't that Tezuka disregarded Atobe's warnings. It was just that his days at home were so dull that when Akizuki's invitation came, he accepted without thinking twice.
They never really talked much when together, but the afternoon found them even quieter, only the lone sound of shamisen filling the air. The garden was quiet, separated from the rest of the city by thick foliage and calls of the insects, but today, it made him even more conscious of the silence.
"Is it true that you're a dancer?" The question came out of nowhere, and Tezuka was surprised to hear himself. The pause of the shamisen was so brief, he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been watching.
"Was, Tezuka-han."
"And you will not dance. Not even for --" he paused, stopping his words mid-thought, and finished, "the Lord of Aizu."
Akizuki smiled and did not answer.
"You're not playing koto today?" The koto was nowhere in sight. Though Tezuka had brought the flute, Akizuki's shamisen never invited other sounds.
"Not today, Tezuka-han." His words were accompanied by a smile so sweet, one could have forgiven him for murder. Akizuki was dressed to his finest perfection that day: blue that put the sky to shame, yellow of the spring forsythia, and tinkling silver and turquoise hairpins. He waited on Tezuka with an attentive solicitousness that somehow irritated him, and Tezuka left early that day.
Akizuki poured himself a cup of sake after Tezuka left, shamisen left propped on the wall. A breeze stirred the hydrangea in full bloom, shaking the petals, and Akizuki shivered despite the warm weather. A name that should have been forgotten came to his lips, unbidden.
"Don't worry," he murmured softly. "I haven't forgotten."
The petals stilled as the breeze died down. Akizuki took another sip of the sake, his breath a sigh over the clear liquid.
"And I never will."
A humorless smile touched his lips, and Akizuki leaned on the wall. Even sake tasted sour on days like this, steeped in regret and warmed with weariness. With another soft exhalation, he closed his eyes.
When Akizuki returned to White Plum Teahouse that evening, he found the whole place in a stir. His plans to quietly retire quickly became useless, because one of the younger maiko burst into his room.
"Akizuki-onii-san, where have you been? The mistress has been looking for you all afternoon." Her pretty brows wrinkled. "Don't tell me you were with Tezuka-han again? The mistress will be furious. You haven't been seeing even half the customers who asked for you, and --"
"What does the mistress want with me?" He was usually more patient, but he was tired and wanted nothing more than to rest. The maiko was unfazed.
"She won't say. But..." she lowered her voice, biting her lip and looking every bit like a little girl she should have been. "I heard the Shogun has asked to see you."
His head rose mechanically. "What?"
"The Shogun. He's visiting Kyoto this month? He must have heard about you from the samurai who serve the Lord of Aizu, since a lot of them came to see you recently."
When Akizuki arrived, only the top senior geisha were in the mistress's quarters. Suzuran's dark eyes were ablaze, occasionally sweeping over him with hatred. The mistress was saying what an honor it was, that one of her students would be called to entertain the Shogun! Akizuki only half-listened to her, feeling uninterested and uncaring about everything.
"No, perhaps a dance would..." Suzuran was saying, and Akizuki turned his head, snapped back to here and now.
"But this child hasn't danced in four years! Surely, the koto and..." One of the senior geisha was objecting. The mistress looked from one to the other, placid expression giving away nothing. Akizuki knew he was probably smiling just a bit, his customary expression to mask his emotions, and envied the mistress for her composure.
"The Shogun hasn't specified what he wishes to see," the mistress finally said. Her gaze swept through the room, instantly silencing the others, and came to rest on Akizuki's face. "Prepare what you would. You will perform before many lords and their favored courtesans and musicians." She paused. "No one else from our teahouse has been invited, and I will not forget my place and appear uninvited. I trust you will do fine on your own."
Akizuki bowed his head, relieved no one else would be going. Some of the younger girls openly idolized him, and many of the older geisha -- and especially Suzuran -- hated him. He didn't care much about what they thought, but disliked having to deal with them while he was performing. After the mistress's announcement, there wasn't much to discuss, and Akizuki bowed to her and withdrew.
He dreamed.
He dreamed of a familiar shrine, of faded leaves strewn on the ground, and the white and red attire of a shrine maiden. With a start he realized his body was moving automatically, following the familiar steps of the shrine maiden's ceremonial dance. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop. A pair of wide, unblinking eyes watched him. He could not look away.
"You blame me too, don't you?" he asked, but his voice would not come. Nevertheless, he knew the boy had heard him. The boy's eyes weren't icy with hatred, like his father's had been, but in life, they had never been so expressionless, either.
"I'm not going to apologize," he mouthed. His eyes burned.
The boy's eyes softened, and he slowly shook his head, looking rueful. The expression was so nostalgic, Akizuki's breath caught in his throat. The wind swept up the leaves, pelting his body with fallen leaves, and haul of the wind drowned out the boy's words.
Akizuki awoke before the first light, feeling frozen.
The Shogun was greatly pleased by his skills with koto and shamisen, his grasp on poetry and literature, and his poise. And the Shogun richly rewarded him, both with jewels and by taking him to bed. Akizuki withdrew from the Shogun's bedchamber in the morning, but it wasn't until midday that he returned to the teahouse, tired and worn.
Just his luck, Akizuki thought to himself, with a bitter sort of humor, that he would run into Suzuran first.
"Not quite the triumphant entry," Suzuran said pleasantly. "Was the Shogun displeased with your performance?"
"Then he would have sent me back yesterday." Akizuki made to pass by him, but Suzuran nimbly stepped in the way.
"I was referring to your performance in bed."
"Were you?" His friendly voice was one breath shy of openly mocking. "If you'd let the mistress know your willingness to make up for my deficiencies in that area, I'm sure she would have let you tag along." His smile was venomous. "After all, the men you've spent the night with couldn't talk enough about your...talent." He was tired and his temper was fraying at the edges. Suzuran was prodding at what he had no business prodding, and he'd been sick and tired of Suzuran lately.
"Your only talent, that is."
Suzuran was quick, but Akizuki was quicker. Hard slap of a hand grabbing a thin wrist in mid-strike, and Suzuran winced, trying to wrench his wrist out of Akizuki's grip. Akizuki held him with surprising strength, and the unsmiling eyes bored into him. Suzuran swallowed.
"Let go."
"Yes. Scurry back to the shadows and eavesdrop and scheme to your heart's content. But do not cross me. I've better things to do." The contempt in Akizuki's eyes cut deep, and Suzuran pressed his lips in a thin line.
"Don't be so arrogant just because you've got a bit of talent."
The look that crossed Akizuki's eyes was a mixture of amusement and irony. He released Suzuran and pushed past him.
"Coward."
Akizuki did not stop or turn.
"You strut in here and play at being a geisha, and why? All because your little lover's death."
Akizuki froze mid-step, back stiff. A malicious smile spread on Suzuran's face, realizing he'd hit home. "Everyone knows you showed up in the garb of a shrine maiden. No one knows the truth though, do they? You're just dabbling in arts because your little love died on you," Suzuran hissed. "Hypocrite. For us, this is life. For you, it's nothing but an escape, a place you can flaunt your talents. Why don't you dance, Akizuki? Would your dead lover be angry that you --"
Faster than he could blink, Akizuki slammed him into the wall. For a moment Suzuran saw stars, stunned, and clawed blindly at the hand squeezing his throat. Icy blue eyes swam into his focus, and Suzuran forgot to struggle, forgot to breathe, frozen by the death he saw in the depthless gaze. For a wild moment, Suzuran believed Akizuki would kill him right then and there, but Akizuki pushed away as if burned. With all the lethal grace of a tiger, Akizuki stalked down the hallway toward his room, and Suzuran finally breathed, gingerly touching his throat. He was shivering.
Suzuran swallowed his tears, angry that Akizuki could frighten him so. He shakily made his way to the kitchen and slapped the maid who fetched him tea, taking cold comfort in the familiar viciousness. Suzuran retired, but could not rest, torn between fury and envy. Being a male in Flower Town invariably meant low status, whether as a servant, a kabuki actor, or a prostitute. As a small child Suzuran had vowed he would never settle for such a place in life. To get where he was now, Suzuran had had to work harder than anyone else in his teahouse. Eventually he found his body just as useful as his arts to gain status, but not Akizuki; Akizuki might have sold his art, but his favor he would barter with courtship. How Akizuki got away with his games, evading impatient demands of the patrons, he had no idea, but it galled him. Worst of all, Akizuki, who was the first male geisha to be summoned by the Shogun, acted like such honor meant nothing. That one person could hold so much, have everything, yet act as if he didn't need them in the first place...it made him grind his teeth in frustration. Then, what did that make those like Suzuran, who had to crawl and scrabble to get where they were?
Suzuran clutched the comforter tightly, unsuccessfully trying to sleep.
Within a day, from officials at the imperial court to lowly pageboy, the whole population of Kyoto knew Akizuki had been summoned by the Shogun, and amply praised and rewarded for his performance. Tezuka had always prided himself in his ability to tune out other people, but he found it utterly unhelpful this time.
Either the courtiers had a lot less work to do in their days than he thought, or the people of the city had quite a vivid imagination. Every detail was described, from the fine embroidery on Akizuki's kimono to how the Shogun had looked at him, mesmerized, pouring sake for Akizuki with his own hands, and how the whole night, the Shogun's eyes had rested on Akizuki alone. How Akizuki was allowed to leave the Shogun's bedchamber only after the sun had risen high in the sky, so pleased was the Shogun.
Tezuka clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. Akizuki was a geisha, an entertainer. The Shogun was de facto the ruler of Japan. Akizuki had no right to refuse the Shogun's favors -- in fact, couldn't expect to survive were he to refuse such an 'honor.'
The wall shook with impact where his fist had landed. Surprised bystanders hurried on after one look at his face. Tezuka saw none of them.
Four days later, Akizuki received a letter from Tezuka. Calling himself thrice the fool for the joy trembling in his heart, he unfolded the paper, and could not help a soft sound, halfway between a sigh and a laugh.
"I sit alone in the dark bamboo grove,
Playing with the zither and whistling long.
In this deep wood no one would know --
Only the bright moon comes to shine."
Quietly he slipped out, taking care no one from the teahouse saw him leave. His steps were purposeful, destination clear and certain in his mind. As he expected, he found Tezuka in the old pavilion hidden in the depths of a bamboo grove. The lone sound of the flute was clear and stately in the quiet of the grove.
"My heart is sorrowful as I stand in the riverside pavilion
Is moonlight the river? Is river the heaven?
Where is the one who gazed at the moon with me?
Only the scenery is unchanged from last year."
The flute stopped, and Tezuka turned to him with a small smile tugging at his mouth.
"You should smile more," Akizuki said, crossing the wooden floor to join him.
"And you should smile less," Tezuka countered. "Especially when you don't want to smile."
"I am a geisha, merely a flower that understands speech." Akizuki's voice was carefully neutral.
"Have I ever treated you as one?"
Akizuki did not answer for a long moment. "No."
"'I miss you, and the only way to see you is in the dreams / When I came seeking you, you went away seeking me'," Tezuka murmured, holding out a hand to him, and Akizuki took it.
"'So I pray, someday soon, in another night's dream / At once, together, may we meet on the same road'." Akizuki's expression wavered for a moment, fighting for calm. "It is not a well-known poem."
"It is beautiful nonetheless," Tezuka answered. Akizuki closed his eyes, visibly trying to compose himself.
"I was but a child when I quoted that poem to another child, both of us playing at love." Akizuki's eyes met his, and the naked pain he saw there staggered Tezuka. "He'd never been fond of poetry, always calling it useless. He'd preferred a more...practical art. After he...I haven't heard this poem since."
In a flash Tezuka understood why Akizuki had reacted like that before, when Tezuka quoted the poem to him. He cupped Akizuki's pale cheek, meeting his eyes. "I'm sorry for causing you pain."
"You did not know." Akizuki leaned into the touch. "You remind me of him."
"Are we that alike?"
Soft laugh. "Yes, and no." Softened blue eyes found his, and Tezuka brushed his thumb over Akizuki's cheekbone. "You are what he will never become."
With that, Akizuki closed the distance between them, and Tezuka caught him. When Tezuka lowered him to the wooden floor, Akizuki pulled him down, and for one perfect night, their heartbeat and breath mingled as one. The wind murmured quiet whispers in the forest of aged bamboos, where only the moonlight watched from afar.