loveless; ritsu/soubi
Kindnesses, pg-15.
Feedback very much appreciated. And...surprisingly, there is minimal, almost no, angst in this, wow.
“Were there times when he was kind to you?” Soubi replies ‘sometimes, yes’.
He remembers trying to sleep in the academy’s dormitory. It’s either too noisy, when everyone else is awake, or too quiet, when no-one else is awake. He tries to fall asleep by squeezing his eyes closed or by counting the number of squares on the ceiling. Morning comes and Soubi now knows that there are 1,023 squares on the ceiling above the length of his bunk bed.
On the third night, he falls asleep.
On the sixth night, the door to his dormitory opens and he sees the figure that he had first seen at his parents’ funeral, the figure that had brought him here.
“Agatsuma Soubi. Get up. Come with me.” Bleary-eyed, ears drooping, Soubi climbs down the ladder from his bed. They walk through the corridors with Soubi holding the hand that was offered to him.
“Where are we going, Ritsu-sensei?” Ritsu doesn’t answer yet, merely pulls him along. They stop after several flights of stairs during which Ritsu had to almost lift and pull Soubi up outside a door marked “Minami Ritsu - Private Residence”. The door opens with a click and they walk in.
“There.” Ritsu points. It’s a bed. Soubi looks up at Ritsu. “You’ve been waking up the entire dormitory with your screaming at night when you’re asleep. Good night.” Soubi blinks again, not quite sure if he understands Ritsu’s meaning, but Ritsu lets go of his hand and walks into the adjoining room. With nothing else to do, Soubi tentatively lifts up the covers of the bed and crawls in. The heavy blankets are almost like his blankets at home. In the middle of the night when he wakes there is the solidity of another person sitting on the bed on his left side. He hears the sound of a page being turned and drifts back into sleep, warm.
He remembers being seven years old and lying on the ground after fighting, not moving, not being able to move. The coolness of the stone against his cheek. Before, he thought he had heard laughter and footsteps, but there is silence now. Something trickles down the side of his face but somehow, his glasses too, are absent and he can’t see what it is. In his disjointed state of mind, he thinks it feels pleasant. For a brief moment, he wonders if it’s alright for him to stay here like this but that too passes. Time passes, time freezes, he doesn’t know.
“Are you going to die?” Oh, a voice, Soubi thinks and even though he can’t see or hear, he knows who the voice belongs to. He can even imagine how Ritsu would be crouching beside him, how, yes, now, like that, Ritsu would lift up a strand of his hair and examine it like he examines the specimens framed on his office walls. “This isn’t a very mature way for you to act.” A pause. “Do not expect this again.” He feels himself lifted up and almost...cradled. The gentle pressure of one arm around his shoulders and the reassuring tightness of the other. What he has now come to recognise: the typical words and tone, the feel of the soft wool of Ritsu’s sleeve against his forehead instead of hardness and Ritsu’s scent, a mixture of starch and mint.
He remembers Ritsu after he had told him to turn and face the wall, to learn not to fear pain. How, despite gritting his teeth, despite telling himself that he could endure, despite Ritsu saying that he could endure, he still slides to the floor after the last lash of the whip leaves his back. It hurts too much to move his shoulders. He had lost count after the 108th lash. The words are still coming out of his mouth, although now they’re almost inaudible.
“No, obviously you cannot endure. I’m disappointed in you, Soubi-kun. We’ll start again tomorrow. Get up.” Obedience is a habit now so somehow, he does manage to lift himself from the floor. He tries to hold onto to the back of a chair for support and Ritsu pulls it away. “Bear it. This pain is nothing. You do not feel it. It is nothing. Fight.” Soubi adds these words to his repetition the next day.
After they are finished for the second time, Ritsu, instead of dismissing him pulls him down onto a chair. “Hmm. It looks like the wounds are not healing properly. Stay seated.” Soubi does remain seated, but he gasps sharply when the salve first touches his back. “Does it burn? Good.” Ritsu’s fingers are precise, tracing over every line on Soubi’s back. Cold too. “You have to learn to bear it. Pain is not pain. Pain is merely another signal. Do you understand me, Soubi-kun? You, you cannot lose. You are superior.”
When Soubi goes to his classes, he realises that he is the only one of Ritsu’s students walking with his back gingerly and stiffly straight.
He remembers imagining that it would hurt, and it does. He isn’t surprised that it’s Ritsu. He had almost expected it, as far as a fifteen-year-old expects when and how to lose his ears. It’s because for anything new since he was six, Ritsu had always been the first, so why should this be any different? What he had not expected though, was how much Ritsu is affected. This time, it is Ritsu’s words that are no longer intelligible and it is Soubi’s hands that clench into Ritsu’s back. He has learnt how to read the different shades of pain, and he senses in this that mixture of possessiveness and pride that he associates with Ritsu, but there is more; nostalgia, longing, and in the encirclement of Ritsu’s arms - it’s not mere strictness; protectiveness? He can’t seem to define it. The motion that Ritsu uses to wipe Soubi’s forehead of sweat is absentminded like habit, and is is perhaps because of this that there is within it unusual tenderness.
Ritsu is the one that dresses first with the same brisk motions that Soubi knows, as if he was merely preparing for a day’s work. When Soubi dresses, it is with a new awareness of lack. His head feels lighter and it feels more difficult to balance. Is he older now? He isn’t certain.
“You are mine. Whatever else happens, you will always be mine.” This, it seems, is what is certain. It comes almost as a relief to have it confirmed.
Seimei leaves after carving his mark into Soubi’s neck, telling him that he is to be reborn, letting him learn another type of pain. Soubi walks back to the academy, though he supposes that he doesn’t belong there anymore - but there is nowhere else to go - sits back on the chair he had left. He is dazed, he is exultant, he is desolate, he is exhausted. The blood, red like Seimei’s is not, drips down his neck staining his shirt.
The door opens and Soubi lets himself sway until he is leaning against Ritsu’s side. He doesn’t push him away. Ritsu’s kindnesses always follow after pain. Yet, this time, it isn’t Ritsu who has caused the pain. And perhaps it is because of this, or perhaps it is because they are both newly vulnerable in this time of change, that what passes between them is simple. An acknowledgment, an acceptance of what has passed. Soubi’s head against Ritsu’s side, Ritsu’s fingertips on the letters Soubi now wears like a necklace.
Feedback very much appreciated. And...surprisingly, there is minimal, almost no, angst in this, wow.
“Were there times when he was kind to you?” Soubi replies ‘sometimes, yes’.
He remembers trying to sleep in the academy’s dormitory. It’s either too noisy, when everyone else is awake, or too quiet, when no-one else is awake. He tries to fall asleep by squeezing his eyes closed or by counting the number of squares on the ceiling. Morning comes and Soubi now knows that there are 1,023 squares on the ceiling above the length of his bunk bed.
On the third night, he falls asleep.
On the sixth night, the door to his dormitory opens and he sees the figure that he had first seen at his parents’ funeral, the figure that had brought him here.
“Agatsuma Soubi. Get up. Come with me.” Bleary-eyed, ears drooping, Soubi climbs down the ladder from his bed. They walk through the corridors with Soubi holding the hand that was offered to him.
“Where are we going, Ritsu-sensei?” Ritsu doesn’t answer yet, merely pulls him along. They stop after several flights of stairs during which Ritsu had to almost lift and pull Soubi up outside a door marked “Minami Ritsu - Private Residence”. The door opens with a click and they walk in.
“There.” Ritsu points. It’s a bed. Soubi looks up at Ritsu. “You’ve been waking up the entire dormitory with your screaming at night when you’re asleep. Good night.” Soubi blinks again, not quite sure if he understands Ritsu’s meaning, but Ritsu lets go of his hand and walks into the adjoining room. With nothing else to do, Soubi tentatively lifts up the covers of the bed and crawls in. The heavy blankets are almost like his blankets at home. In the middle of the night when he wakes there is the solidity of another person sitting on the bed on his left side. He hears the sound of a page being turned and drifts back into sleep, warm.
He remembers being seven years old and lying on the ground after fighting, not moving, not being able to move. The coolness of the stone against his cheek. Before, he thought he had heard laughter and footsteps, but there is silence now. Something trickles down the side of his face but somehow, his glasses too, are absent and he can’t see what it is. In his disjointed state of mind, he thinks it feels pleasant. For a brief moment, he wonders if it’s alright for him to stay here like this but that too passes. Time passes, time freezes, he doesn’t know.
“Are you going to die?” Oh, a voice, Soubi thinks and even though he can’t see or hear, he knows who the voice belongs to. He can even imagine how Ritsu would be crouching beside him, how, yes, now, like that, Ritsu would lift up a strand of his hair and examine it like he examines the specimens framed on his office walls. “This isn’t a very mature way for you to act.” A pause. “Do not expect this again.” He feels himself lifted up and almost...cradled. The gentle pressure of one arm around his shoulders and the reassuring tightness of the other. What he has now come to recognise: the typical words and tone, the feel of the soft wool of Ritsu’s sleeve against his forehead instead of hardness and Ritsu’s scent, a mixture of starch and mint.
He remembers Ritsu after he had told him to turn and face the wall, to learn not to fear pain. How, despite gritting his teeth, despite telling himself that he could endure, despite Ritsu saying that he could endure, he still slides to the floor after the last lash of the whip leaves his back. It hurts too much to move his shoulders. He had lost count after the 108th lash. The words are still coming out of his mouth, although now they’re almost inaudible.
“No, obviously you cannot endure. I’m disappointed in you, Soubi-kun. We’ll start again tomorrow. Get up.” Obedience is a habit now so somehow, he does manage to lift himself from the floor. He tries to hold onto to the back of a chair for support and Ritsu pulls it away. “Bear it. This pain is nothing. You do not feel it. It is nothing. Fight.” Soubi adds these words to his repetition the next day.
After they are finished for the second time, Ritsu, instead of dismissing him pulls him down onto a chair. “Hmm. It looks like the wounds are not healing properly. Stay seated.” Soubi does remain seated, but he gasps sharply when the salve first touches his back. “Does it burn? Good.” Ritsu’s fingers are precise, tracing over every line on Soubi’s back. Cold too. “You have to learn to bear it. Pain is not pain. Pain is merely another signal. Do you understand me, Soubi-kun? You, you cannot lose. You are superior.”
When Soubi goes to his classes, he realises that he is the only one of Ritsu’s students walking with his back gingerly and stiffly straight.
He remembers imagining that it would hurt, and it does. He isn’t surprised that it’s Ritsu. He had almost expected it, as far as a fifteen-year-old expects when and how to lose his ears. It’s because for anything new since he was six, Ritsu had always been the first, so why should this be any different? What he had not expected though, was how much Ritsu is affected. This time, it is Ritsu’s words that are no longer intelligible and it is Soubi’s hands that clench into Ritsu’s back. He has learnt how to read the different shades of pain, and he senses in this that mixture of possessiveness and pride that he associates with Ritsu, but there is more; nostalgia, longing, and in the encirclement of Ritsu’s arms - it’s not mere strictness; protectiveness? He can’t seem to define it. The motion that Ritsu uses to wipe Soubi’s forehead of sweat is absentminded like habit, and is is perhaps because of this that there is within it unusual tenderness.
Ritsu is the one that dresses first with the same brisk motions that Soubi knows, as if he was merely preparing for a day’s work. When Soubi dresses, it is with a new awareness of lack. His head feels lighter and it feels more difficult to balance. Is he older now? He isn’t certain.
“You are mine. Whatever else happens, you will always be mine.” This, it seems, is what is certain. It comes almost as a relief to have it confirmed.
Seimei leaves after carving his mark into Soubi’s neck, telling him that he is to be reborn, letting him learn another type of pain. Soubi walks back to the academy, though he supposes that he doesn’t belong there anymore - but there is nowhere else to go - sits back on the chair he had left. He is dazed, he is exultant, he is desolate, he is exhausted. The blood, red like Seimei’s is not, drips down his neck staining his shirt.
The door opens and Soubi lets himself sway until he is leaning against Ritsu’s side. He doesn’t push him away. Ritsu’s kindnesses always follow after pain. Yet, this time, it isn’t Ritsu who has caused the pain. And perhaps it is because of this, or perhaps it is because they are both newly vulnerable in this time of change, that what passes between them is simple. An acknowledgment, an acceptance of what has passed. Soubi’s head against Ritsu’s side, Ritsu’s fingertips on the letters Soubi now wears like a necklace.