[Saiunkoku Challenge 42] A Kinder Season

[runiclore]

A Kinder Season
Author: Amber Michelle
Rating: K+
Genre: .... gen.
Warnings: n/a
AU/Canon: canon.
Pairing/Characters: Reishin
Words: 1164

Prompt: #42 - life and death (250 words min.)
Notes: this is like a pick-up note to Cold Light Melting, which will appear some way or other as soon as I can get off my butt and write it. :D

Cross-posted at saiun_challenge.



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Water lapped over Reishin's shoulders, slapping faintly against the side of the stone pool, warm, scented with sandalwood and vanilla, lavender, scents meant to calm the mind and lull to sleep, like the herbal tea Yuri made for him when she was home and willing to indulge him. His eyes were closed to the steam and candlelight, and he sat on a ledge in the bath, hair soaking and stuck to the back of his neck, pulled in different directions by the movement of the water where it dipped down beneath the surface, long enough to be caught between the side of the pool and his back. The usual luxuries had finally been procured for him, so he no longer had to use Kurou's herbal soap or sharp oils.

His elder brother would be back in the capitol by midnight, no doubt. Shouka climbed the sacred mountain without breaking a sweat; why should he not manage to travel across the province in a week, and shorten his journey by half? In a day or two their clan would be committed to serving the emperor, and Reishin would never be able to show his face in the capitol again.

Why would he want to, in any case? Nothing waited for him there. No one. Only Yuri, Kouyuu, Houju--

The door creaked open, and a maid begged his pardon for interrupting, shuffled in. A moment later he heard a ceramic clink on the bench, and with the sound a hint of exotic wood on the air, piercing the steam. When he opened his eyes she had gone, the door clicking behind her just when he turned his head, and a white ceramic censer was left behind, its shape ghost-like in the dim gleam of the candles. Something pink and red was painted on the side, and it stood on three legs, the top pierced by holes large enough to push a finger through. The wood scent warming on the charcoal was strong, and the hints of its companions trying and failing to break through; the blend was inept, but nothing else could be expected of the servants employed at the House. How the mighty had fallen.

Reishin turned his face forward again, reached to pull his hair out of the water, over his shoulder, and then for a decanter of oil on the lip of the pool. Golden, thick, pressed from almonds with a honey scent, the nutty undertone smelled almost like cherry. It coated his palm when he poured it, slicked his hair smooth when he combed it in with his fingers.

Yuri's oil was scented with plum blossoms. She used it when she combed his hair, and when she rolled her own into formal styles. He liked unrolling the blonde fans she made of the length, the buns, the braids, and inhaling the sweet spring scent, the hint of life in winter. Houju would have called that an appropriate description-- Reishin was wintery and unpleasant, and Yuri a reminder of kinder seasons and delicate flowers. He would have thrown his fan at the masked man, and had to dodge it when it came flying back. Houju had quick hands and a quicker mind.

Kouyuu hardly bothered with such luxuries. His hair was an unruly mess, sometimes coarse as straw. Reishin could never convince him to oil it, or to moisten his skin, or to make himself more than presentable.

Was he employed again just yet, or would he still be on probation? Would Shouka make good on his promise and induct Kouyuu into the clan formally?

A bitter undertone to the steam paused Reishin's contemplation of the capitol - of what his brother had done, or would do, as soon as he got the chance to throw the clan prostrate before the throne. Gray smoke limned the wisps of mist from the water. The windows were closed and locked on his order. He sat back, but the smell remained, burned his throat.

Now that he'd given up his position as clan head, he was like Kurou - a target whose only value lay in how his situation might affect the leader of the family. Reishin turned dislike into an art, and Kurou into the parchment on which he painted policy, and no one had yet dared to send assassins to spill his blood. What good would it do? The clan aimed their hostility at Kouyuu. And now--

It was an acid scent that brought him out of his thoughts this time, sharp to the nose like a blade. He felt light-headed, as if he'd sat up in bed too quickly and jumped from deep sleep to wakefulness. This wasn't a mistake in blending; it tasted like iron - like paint.

Reishin stood, pulled himself out of the bath. The bottle of oil clattered over and slipped into the water. He pulled his white under robe on and tied it, leaning against the wall a moment before pushing the doors open and stumbling over the edge of the rug on the other side. His breath came short, and the acrid scent lingered in his room like a ghost. He tried the handle to the pavilion door twice before he managed to open it and rush into the cool night air lit gray by moon and stars. The veranda wood gleamed gold in spots, brushed by lamplight from further down the hall.

"Lord Reishin--"

A servant, a woman dressed in pale pink robes to his right - but not the one who brought the censer in. "Poison," he said, and took a deep breath. The air was clean, but the serpent of smoke threatened to follow him out the door.

"P-poison?" her voice was shrill. "A doctor--"

"Get Kurou."

"But Lord--"

"Now."

She hovered on the balls of her feet, and then her robes flapped behind her when she ran down the corridor, her long tail of black hair fluttering. Reishin moved after her more slowly, tried to take deeper breaths, and coughed. He felt a little dizzy, but he wasn't in there long enough, was he? He recognized it in time, didn't he? He sank to his knees, rested his forehead on the rail.

His own prejudices had worked against him this time. Shouka would call him an idiot, but Reishin could barely breathe, and he was certainly stupid for calling for Kurou to see him in this state. He always concerned himself overly much with matters he had no business in. Reishin had no time for that now, when he could barely keep his eyes open and his arm up on the rail to cushion his head. It felt too heavy.

Maybe he should have called the doctor after all.

Reishin sighed, bitter poison on his breath, and closed his eyes.


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minerva_one, you are a lovely mod. <3

Many apologies, but this month has been hectic, and I'm on a timetable today-- so no editing. I'm sorry. ;_;

It isn't as urgent as the prompt suggests, but oh well.


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