[Saiunkoku] Stupidity Tax

[runiclore]

Stupidity Tax
Author: Amber Michelle
Rating: K
Genre: gen
Warnings: lame title n/a
AU/Canon: canon
Characters: Kou Reishin, Ko Houju
Words: 645

Prompt: February 2010 - Motivation (free word count)
Note: the timing is slightly off, but I wanted plum blossoms. Reference to... er, episode 4 of season two, I think.



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"You're late," Reishin said when he heard the pavilion door creak on its hinges behind him. He leaned on the west-facing casement and pushed the window open. Snow sloughed off the sill outside; it clung to the shadowed places in the palace gardens, though a warm south wind had melted most of it. Plum blossoms, tiny and white, fluttered down to take its place. "I started without you." He flicked the porcelain cup on the mat beside him.

"I had better things to do," Houju said. The slide of silk string hissed in the silence, and then the click of his wooden mask on the table. "Shuurei's proposal is making my job more difficult."

Reishin snatched up his cup, brought it to his lips. But he lowered it a breath later, the mirror surface shivering and warping its vision of falling blossoms, and let the scent tickle his nose, fruity, alcoholic. It was the best plum wine money could buy - Yuushun liked it, and usually Reishin did as well. "I'll compose a song for you if they bury you alive in paperwork - something tragic, but with a comic undertone, to reflect the trials of your life."

A snort was his reward, and then Houju inflicted more silence on him, glass clinking and scraping on the tray while he poured himself a cup of wine and tasted it - but rather than a compliment, it inspired a sharp sigh, and then his unmasked friend joined him on the bench at the window and looked out. The yellow and orange of the sunset gilded his dark hair, as it limned the edges of the white blossoms, and blushed his face with more color than it ever had without such forgiving light. Across the dead garden, dark figures passed each other on a covered walkway and someone lit the lamps. Prayer bells clanged in the city, barely audible.

"I expected him to be here before me," Houju said, finally, when the sun had lowered a little more, and the sky directly above them had turned pink to compliment the plum tree.

Reishin leaned back on the wall. The window frame creaked. "He was promoted this morning. How would you like to wager on whether or not he started immediately? There must be a mountain of paperwork on that brat's desk just begging to be finished."

"I don't take wagers I'll lose, thanks." Houju set his cup on the sill and tucked his hands into his sleeves. It would be a cold night; their breath puffed faintly already. "They're placing bets on whether or not you'll start to do your job over at the Department of Ceremonies - now that Yuushun is Prime Minister."

"Consider it a stupidity tax. The proceeds should fund Shuurei's project, wouldn't you say?"

The sky deepened to violet; the sun faded, leaving dusk behind, a color fitting for the scent of plum wine. Reishin sipped, pursed his lips. He could no longer see his own reflection in it - only streaks of pink, orange, and blue that trembled before the wintry breeze that chilled his cheeks. His fingers had frozen around the small cup in the shape of a claw.

"I don't suppose--"

"You're an idiot to even ask."

A smile curled Houju's lips, a smirk, a scowl. "What would motivate you to do your job?" His eyes remained distant, trained on the view. "What happened on the new year that prompted you to make an exception?"

Is the man in charge of Civil Administration a member of the Kou clan? Maybe I'll have Uncle Kurou talk to him--

Reishin jerked his wrist, threw the contents of his cup out the window to splash over the white-speckled ground. "Wouldn't you like to know."


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