Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction ❯ Lost in Jade ❯ The Gift ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Author's Note: A story born out of a dream (although in the dream I was reading a really bad version of this. ^_^; ), so if it's a bit out there, that's why. ~_^ An insidious dream, I knew I had to start typing as soon as I woke up. It quickly became clear that the story I was writing would be a lot longer than the dream-fic, however. Good news for you, not so good news for me. ~_^
Warnings: Hisoka-torture, excessive amounts of sarcasm, OCs (well someone has to work for Oriya...), post Kyoto-arc, eventual OxH???? (we'll have to see...)
Disclaimer: Yami no Matsuei is the property of Matsushita Yoko - I'm just borrowing a few things. The only thing I claim are the original characters. Well, and the plot. ~_^
Language Note: suou has several meanings, but in this case, it's used to refer to a specific shade of red: dark red tinged with brown, the color of old dried blood.

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It wasn't the first time he had ignored me in favor of another pet, but this time was different. This time even my vast resources were useless, finding nothing as if the man didn't even exist. And in a sense, I suppose, that was the problem; his pet existed only in the worlds of the dead. But it becomes troublesome to dispose of a man who does not exist.
And then he came, bearing the broken body of the bouya like some sort of deranged gift. Perhaps in his mind that was what he was. A gift to placate me, to distract me from his own obsession. It worked, as I'm sure he knew it would, but so help me, I don't know why.


I had fought him once before, sliced him open from throat to pelvis twice, and still there had been less blood then. What clothes remained were stained suou with his blood, ruddy tracks sluggishly oozing from several lacerations. It would not do for others to know I was nursing a broken boy, so I hid him away in my room, risking leaving him unattended for a moment to collect the supplies I would need. Curious eyes watched, but I knew Cheisa had assumed I was tending Muraki yet again and I was not about to correct her.
"Wh-where. . . ?"
"Save your strength, bouya. Whatever he did this time, your body isn't healing properly."
"Tsu . . . zu. . . ."
"I don't know where your friends are," I sighed as I settled beside him again. To my shame, I had briefly forgotten about them. No doubt the other shinigami would soon be pounding down my door and demanding their collegue's return. So be it. I had no use for the boy and it would spare me the expense of healing him.
But hours passed and no one came. I had stopped the bleeding, surprised at the abuse I uncovered as I cleaned away the dried blood. Bouya drifted in and out of consciousness and in those long hours I noticed little change in his condition. As shinigami his body should have already recovered, but with Muraki involved. . . .
He cried out for Tsuzuki a number of times, albeit weakly. Even though there was nothing more I could do for him, I kept my silent vigil, watching and waiting. And waiting yet more as the darkness of night faded into the golden light of the dawn. And still there was no one. Surely they had to know it was Muraki who had taken him. Why, then, had they not come to the Ko Kaku Ro immediately? Why was I left tending the wounds of such a spoiled brat? A silly boy with skin like porcelain and hair like a golden dawn. . . .
No, he was nothing but a nuisance. A gangly youth trapped in a body that would never know maturity, that would never blossom into adulthood. I could almost pity him.
I was still sitting vigil over him when he awoke again.
"Y-you. . . ."
"Yes, me. You can thank me later. Now drink this."
"What . . . what is it?"
"Medicine, baka. Don't be so suspicious. If I wanted to hurt you, why would I tend your wounds?"
Whether he sensed my sincerity or simply could not think of a suitable counter to my words, he drank the tea. I could tell that even sitting up for that had nearly exhausted him again, but he was apparently intent on speaking with me. I supposed that I could have scolded him to rest, but what did I care? Though it was worrisome that his friends had not come for him yet. . . .
"Wh-where . . . am I?"
"The Ko Kaku Ro. More specifically, in my bed," I replied calmly, smiling slightly as a crimson blush rose in his cheeks. It was a mean and petty sport, perhaps, baiting him like that, but I needed something to keep me entertained while I watched over him.
"Why? Why are you . . . helping me?"
"I have no quarrel with you, bouya, not today," I said quietly. I was not about to tell him that I was doing it for selfish reasons: his continued existence was all that kept Muraki from abandoning me completely for his purple-eyed pet.
"I . . . I don't understand."
"Of course you don't. I wouldn't expect it of you. Children can hardly be expected to understand the affairs of adults," I said as I turned away from him to tend my pipe. Turning my back to him was a mistake, one I realized too late as the teacup I gave him thumped into my back before shattering against the floor.
"I am NOT a CHILD!"
"You act like one," I murmured, turning back to frown down at the broken shards of stoneware. The teacup had not been one of any value, but still, its loss was annoying. Fortunately, I had at least had the foresight to keep his small store of ofuda out of his immediate reach.
"You are a guest in my home and this is how you repay me?! Were you not taught any better than this?"
". . . gomennasai. . . ."
Strangely enough, his apology sounded truly genuine. It was not what I had expected from him. Another angry outburt or perhaps sullen silence, but not regret.
"Get some rest," I said quietly, leaving my pipe unlit on the dressing table. "For what it may be worth, you have my word that you are safe here."
Something soft flickered through those emerald eyes momentarily and then he nodded, sliding down into sleep once more. The angry bruises stood out plainly against his pale skin, unchanged from when he had arrived. Undoubtedly the lacerations hiding under his bandages were the same. It made no sense but I knew that if I was to keep watch over him, I would need to eat something. Muraki had given him to me for some reason; I didn't worry that he would return to take him away again. Still, keeping the boy's presence from my staff would not be easy.
"Ohayo, Owner. Is Muraki-san well?"
"Ohayo, Sonashi and I wouldn't know."
"But aren't you. . . ?"
"No, I'm not. Is the coffee ready?"
"H-hai, Owner," the cook stuttered, understandably surprised; I rarely drank coffee. But with almost no sleep. . . .
Breakfast, a shower, a fresh yukatta, and another cup of coffee later, I had returned to my vigil once more. Bouya was restless in his sleep, nightmares clawing at his sleeping mind. And though a part of me wanted to ease his distress, I couldn't bring myself to wake him. I was an enemy in his eyes, I knew that; he would take nothing from me that I did not force upon him and comfort cannot be forced.
A rainy day, as they often are in the spring. The sound of the rain seemed to help him sleep better and I was relieved. It was also soothing me towards sleep; though I had intended not to sleep while he was still in my care, dreams pulled me down anyway. Strange dreams that would not be caught, flickering images of emerald eyes and honey hair.
I started awake at the timid knock on my door. Not wanting anyone to see the boy in my bed, I hurried to the door, stepping out into the corridor and closing it behind me before Cheisa could see inside.
"Owner?"
"Cheisa? What is it?"
"Anou . . . conflicting rumors are going around. Is everything well? No one has seen you since this morning and it's nearly dusk now. I was beginning to worry."
"I'm fine, Cheisa. Tell Tonaka that he'll have to attend our customers tonight in my stead."
"Hai, Owner. Should I bring up your dinner?"
"And a second bowl of soup as well," I directed, knowing it sounded suspicious.
"Hai. . . . Owner?"
"What is it now, Cheisa?"
"Is Muraki-san in your room? When you took those bandages last night . . . but this morning you told Sonashi that he wasn't here."
"He was here. He's gone now," I replied simply, silently challenging her to ask anything more and knowing that she wouldn't. Not when I was wearing that look. She had been a geisha at the Ko Kaku Ro too long to question that look aloud. Whatever she thought of my actions privately, she would obey my directives.
I waited outside my room for her return, staring up at the silver moon. Where were those shinigami? Why were they leaving me with this child? If I knew of some way of contacting them . . . but I didn't. All I could do was wait, either for them to come collect their collegue or for him to regain enough strength to leave on his own.
Cheisa returned, clearly surprised to see me still standing there, but handed me the tray without a word and returned to her work. I waited for her to turn the corner before re-entering my room. Vivid emerald eyes were waiting for me.
"Ah, awake again, bouya. Good, then I won't have to wake you for your medicine."
I set the tray just out of his reach, trying not to smile at the irritation that flashed in those green eyes. As often as Muraki had come bearing injuries of all sorts, I kept quite the pharmacy in my room and so adding the necessarily powder to his soup was done easily enough. Getting him to drink it, however, was likely to be another matter entirely.
"I assume you can drink this yourself," I said in amusement as I passed him the bowl. He glowered at me briefly as he accepted the soup, but he couldn't hide the slight tremor in his hands. Still, he seemed intent on persevering regardless of any physical weakness and so long as he was actually drinking the soup, I was content to let him.
I was only half finished with my dinner when he had finished his and I could see the hunger in his eyes. Not a particular surprise; though he had slept all day, the soup was the first food he'd had since the day before. As thin and frail as he appeared, I could only assume he was not one prone to regular meals, so who knew how long it had been since his last meal. While his shaking had decreased slightly, I could tell that he was in no shape to handle chopsticks competently - he would get more food on himself than in his mouth.
"Still hungry, ne bouya?"
"I haven't eaten since . . . what day is it?"
"Wednesday."
"I haven't eaten since Saturday," he confessed, looking down at his hands in shame. "I didn't know he'd held me so long. . . ."
I could tell he was surprised at his own confession. I was surprised both that he had admitted it to me and that Muraki had been able to hold him so long. As protective as those shinigami had appeared to be of each other, it was strange to hear that they had not rescued him already.
"He didn't come," he whispered so quietly I could barely hear him. "Why . . . why hasn't he found me?"
"This, perhaps?" I murmured, lightly tapping one of his bandages. "I know little of magic, but. . . ."
He stared at the bandages as if he had not seen them before. Perhaps he hadn't noticed earlier, but as he stared at them now, I could see the fear rising in his emerald eyes. Rather than have him dwell on the stubbornly persistent injuries, I tapped the side of the lacquered tray to get his attention.
"If you're still hungry, I suppose I can have Cheisa bring more food. In the mean time. . . ."
I offered him a slice of braised beef from my own plate. He blinked at it in surprise for a moment before taking it from my chopsticks and putting it in his mouth. I tried not to roll my eyes at his timidity; you'd think he had never shared a meal with someone before. Then again, he had probably never been hand-fed before.
Curious to see what he would do, I offered him some rice. He glowered at me then.
"I can feed myself!"
"All right, all right," I soothed, passing him both the chopsticks and the rice bowl. I rose to my door, unsurprised at the empty passageway beyond.
"I'll be back shortly," I told him gently, though he was still glowering at me. I wasn't looking forward to the mess I expected to find on my return, but now that it had become clear I would not be able to keep his presence from the house, it was something that could be handled easily enough. Cheisa could change the bedding while I took the boy down to my bathhouse.
"Owner!"
"Sonashi, I need a second meal."
"H-hai, Owner. Is Muraki-san back?"
"No. Where is Cheisa?"
"Helping Tonaka-san. Seiya, go tell Cheisa Owner wants her and be quick about it."
The geisha bowed quickly and skittered off to find the housekeeper. Sonashi prepared another tray while I watched, nervous and curious about the strange request.
"Owner? Is everything all right?"
"Hai. Bring a change of bedding to my apartment in two hours. And a pot of tea," I ordered as I took the tray from Sonashi. The entire kitchen was now quite curious about my business, but that couldn't be helped.
As I had expected, bouya had managed to get rice everywhere but in his mouth. What I hadn't expected were the frustrated tears that shimmered in his eyes. He wiped them away as soon as I opened the door, but the tracks were still clearly visible on his cheeks, proving how desperately he needed a bath. It seemed a change of plans was in order. As nice of a night as it was, we could as well eat dinner in my garden.
"Well . . . perhaps now you will let me help you, bouya? But first, I think a bath is in order."
I set the tray on a side table, fetching the earlier tray and setting it beside the second. He watched me with wary eyes as I pondered what I was going to clothe him in; his own clothes were worthless and he was far too small to wear any of mine. I was beginning to wonder if this was really Muraki's idea of a gift or his notion of a trick. Sighing in annoyance, I rang the call-bell and handed the boy another cup of tea.
"Here, this should help calm your nerves. Try not to throw this one at me, ne?"
"Arigatou," he murmured shyly, studying the warm liquid intently. Thin tendrils of steam rose to caress his cheeks and he closed his eyes, savoring the aroma. I smiled in spite of myself as I watched him; simple pleasures were the finest blessing.
Nyassa poked her head into the room, then froze at the sight of the strange injured boy in my bed. In truth, I was relieved it was her; Nyassa wouldn't ask uncomfortable questions, accepting that the owner's business was mine alone and none of hers.
"Mibu-san?"
"Bon needs a change of clothes. Have something brought down to my bathhouse."
"Hai, Owner," she murmured, bowing once before slipping back out again. I could see the boy tensing as I moved to pick him up, but ignored it. He was surprisingly light, though perhaps not that surprising as I realized how small he truly was. He clutched the teacup tightly, not wanting to touch me any more than necessary. I sighed again, shaking my head at his foolishness, and carried him down to my bathhouse. He would probably argue that he could bathe himself, but I knew better than to believe that.
I set him down on the bench, propping him up against the tiled wall. He watched in weak fascination as I carefully unwound the bandages; while the various slashes and stab wounds had yet to disappear, they had all closed and scabbed over at least. He offered a faint noise of protest as I finished undressing him, but to my surprise, he said nothing else.
Over the years I had grown rather adept at bathing someone without disturbing fresh wounds. I think my gentleness surprised him, considering my choice in companions; my ministrations were quite likely the complete opposite of what Muraki had done to the poor boy.
"Why?" he asked again as I eased him into the tub to soak for awhile. "Why do this?"
"Gift or trick, you are a guest in my home. I gave you my word that you would be safe. It would have little meaning if I did nothing to help you heal."
"Muraki wouldn't bring me here to heal. . . ."
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Only he understands his motives, bouya. I don't care what he thinks I should do with you."
"I still don't understand. . . ."
"I told you, I have no quarrel with you, bouya. Relax awhile. I'll be back in a moment," I said quietly, ruffling his hair. He scowled up at me, but it was a reflexive sort of scowl, without the heat of his earlier angry outbursts. As I walked into the foyer of the bathhouse, I could see that a fresh yukatta had been set out for the boy, as well as a fresh roll of bandages and a small pot of salve. Our dinner trays had also been moved to a sitting area under the maple where a blanket had been spread over the grass, the dishes covered to keep them warm. A small note was tucked between two overturned teacups; Nyassa had taken the liberty to move our dinner and was also changing the bedding. She had even brought my pipe.
It was warm for spring, the rain from earlier in the day moving off to leave a clear night sky. Perfect for a dinner out in the garden by the warm glow of candles and torches. I could hear the muted voices of my restaurant's patrons from beyond the courtyard behind me, but I paid them no mind. This was my private garden, concealed from view by a thick stand of trees and the bulk of my home itself.
"Mibu-san?"
I walked back into the bathhouse, surprised to see the boy standing beside the bathtub, a towel wrapped around his thin waist. I didn't waste any words, fetching the yukatta and then helping him with it. He managed a couple of wobbly steps before giving up and letting me carry him out to my garden. He seemed rather relieved as I set him down, and an actual smile threatened to appear when I presented him with his own dinner.
We sat in silence as I finished my dinner but bouya only poked at his. He kept glowering at the chopsticks and I knew he was afraid of making a fool of himself in front of me. It seemed a bit of a strange reaction, but then it also gave me a chance to watch him blush again, so I didn't complain.
"Oya, you need to eat, bouya. If you need help, ask. There is no shame in that."
"I'm not that hungry," he lied, a fierce blush rising in his cheeks.
"You're a rotten liar, Bon," I chuckled, offering him another bit of beef. He gave me another reflexive scowl before picking the meat off my chopsticks. He seemed to be daring me to offer him something else and I was more than happy to meet the challenge in his emerald eyes. He studiously avoided actually eating off my chopsticks until I presented him with rice again. His whole face flushed brilliant crimson as he hesitated - he was still hungry but he didn't want to eat off my chopsticks. Hunger overcoming modesty, he closed his eyes and accepted the food. I smiled in amusement, a smile that only grew wider as we went through the entire bowl of rice in that fashion.
Our dinners finished, I lit my pipe and settled back to listen to the spring crickets. The evening was becoming chill, but I sensed a reluctance to move in the boy, even though he was beginning to shiver. He edged closer, though I doubted he was really aware of what he was doing. Another warm body, I was simply a source of heat, one that his chilled form was unconsciously drawn to for it's warmth. Foolishness, really, to stay out in the garden so late. When I saw Cheisa approaching, I was quite certain we would both be getting a lecture. Instead, she simply shook her head.
"Oya, niisan, he's barely even awake. Put him to bed already; I'll take care of this mess."
He offered no protest as I picked him up and carried him back to the apartment, his earlier reluctance to touch me banished by his tiredness. I felt for the poor boy; whatever Muraki had done to him - and I truly did not want to know the details - it had wiped out all of bouya's reserves. As I put him to bed, I found myself wondering just how long he would be in my care. As slowly as he was healing, it would likely be a week or more. Unless his friends found him first. I wasn't sure which I wanted, but I couldn't help wondering for the millionth time where they were.

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End Note: I have several fics in progress and rank them according to deadlines and feedback. In other words, the more feedback, the faster I'll work on something. ~_^ You don't have to review, of course (I'll be getting poked over this one by my roommate anyway), but it certainly wouldn't hurt anything either!