fic: New World (3/3)
Title: New World
AU: Beauty and the Beast
Wordcount: 18K
If anybody asked Kunimitsu how last night’s dinner had been, Kunimitsu would have said that it went badly. He assumed that Syusuke shared his opinion. So when Mr. Toyama said that the Duke was expecting him at dinner again, he had to stare at Mr. Toyama for a while before realizing what the butler had said. After a few nights of shared meal with Syusuke where they didn’t exchange any words at all, Kunimitsu concluded that Syusuke probably was just giving him the kind of treatment a Duke was expected to give an Earl. That was what Mr. Toyama and Mrs. Inoue thought too.
Three weeks have passed when Kunimitsu received a missive from his mother asking if he could go home. She said they had an important matter to discuss and she really needed to tell her son. Without sending word that he would be missing the usual dinner with Syusuke, he packed some of the foods that Mrs. Inoue said he should take with him and walked home, thinking that Syusuke wouldn’t mind his absence at all.
Being home for dinner gave him a break from the tension he usually felt whenever he ate dinner with the Duke. Where Syusuke was always sullenly silent, his family was happily celebrating the news that they might be able to get hold of who started the fire. Though he didn’t contribute to the chatter between her mother, her sisters and the inspector whom her mother hired to investigate the accident, he did feel the joy they felt.
A little before midnight, after the cups of hot chocolate had been emptied, Ayana convinced her son not to go back to the mansion yet, and with good reason. Snow had been falling since Kunimitsu left the mansion and snowfall had gotten even stronger tonight plus the winds had picked up, which would make it even harder for Kunimitsu to reach the mansion. Kunimitsu had agreed so he spent the night at home.
Though his mother tried to convince him the next morning to at least stay for breakfast, Kunimitsu declined and said he had to go before snow started falling again.
The mansion was a two-mile walk in snow from home that when Kunimitsu reached the mansion, he longed for the heat of a fire. Thankfully, when he entered the kitchen the huge fire was blazing and Mrs. Inoue was just preparing a warm breakfast of porridge and hot chocolate. From breakfast, the day continued just as any day usually did in the mansion. He had spent the rest of the afternoon poring over records and calculating numbers. It didn’t end, however, in a silent dinner.
Over the meal, Syusuke had been noticeably edgy. His yes kept flitting from the candles at the center of the table to Kunimitsu’s face. Over the usual cup of coffee, Syusuke said, “You went home last night.”
Because Syusuke seemed to have been filled in with the details, Kunimitsu didn’t see the need to say anything.
“I thought you needed this job,” Syusuke continued coolly. “You must realize that you can’t just come and go as you please.”
Kunimitsu’s eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t aware that I couldn’t go home if need be.”
Syusuke didn’t seem to like the matter-of-fact manner by which Kunimitsu responded because he said, “If you want to stay, you must stay. If you leave, you must leave for good.”
Kunimitsu was much too proud to explain to Syusuke what had happened, and he doubted that Syusuke would try to understand - at least not in this current state of mind. More than that, he didn’t feel obliged to obey Syusuke’s whims - and this definitely sounded like a whim. Pushing his chair back, Kunimitsu got up and said, “I’m packing my things.” Whatever Syusuke’s reaction was, he wasn’t able to see because he strolled out of the dining room without a glance back.
Ten minutes into the dark forest, harsh winds and merciless snow, Kunimitsu began to consider that perhaps this was not the time to parade his pride. He needed the money to help support his family and later on his ambitions. He knew that in this town, working as the Duke Alhandri’s bookkeeper was the best deal he could get. But the way Syusuke acted and spoke made him indignant, and the Duke’s wishes were so unreasonable he knew that he was bound to leave the mansion eventually. More than that, he had to be with his family. Right now, they needed his assistance to go through the investigation to prepare them to what would happen. It could fail, it could succeed. Either way, he needed to be with them.
Raising his lamp, Kunimitsu squinted to check a tree, dearly hoping that he hadn’t gotten lost since he was beginning to feel as if the forest had grown larger. Unfortunately, the tree looked like the one he had passed five minutes ago, meaning he had been going around in circles. Normally, he had a good sense of direction but tonight, he couldn’t see where he was going and he did believe what the old people in town told him about this forest: at night, it expanded and swallowed everything that walked into its midst. It wasn’t some mystical belief though. It simply was the way forests were at night, probably because forests’ façades changed at night, at night forests were alive.
To try avoiding getting lost again, Kunimitsu took the opposite of the direction he had followed when he first passed the tree, hoping this was the right path. He had been walking for nearly ten minutes when he hadn’t seen the steep, rocky climb downward and he slipped a good five feet from where he started, hitting a boulder with his left arm, which he used to cushion the fall. A little shaken, he shakily stood up straight and tried to find shelter as quickly as possible. He knew that he couldn’t get stuck in an unknown place in the forest. There, wild animals lived and hunted for food. In this weather, anything could be food. He could be food.
The shelter he found just a few yards off the trail was a tree that had been hollowed by vines. Its girth was wide that he could crawl into the hole and sit with his legs stretched as he unloaded his rucksack from his shoulders and laid the lamp on the thankfully dry ground. He inspected his hurting arm. It was red and warm and swollen. But at least it wasn’t bleeding. No huge fracture then. Probably just a sprain. With his free hand, he searched his rucksack for a clean shirt and he immobilized his injured arm with it. He rested his head against the wall and not much later he had fallen asleep.
Kunimitsu stirred and wished he hadn’t. His arm ached so terribly it felt like it was on fire. He opened his eyes and put on his glasses to check his arm and saw that it was set with an actual bandage and a sling, not the makeshift one that he used last night. Befuddled, he frowned and glanced around him, and he realized that he was back in his own room at the mansion. Oddly, he had no recollection of walking back to the mansion. He was sure that his pride wouldn’t have allowed him to come back. Besides, even if he had lost his pride, he didn’t think he would be able to reach the mansion without getting lost, not in last night’s weather.
As if fate had decided that his questions must be answered, Eiji entered the room with a tray of what smelled like soup, toast, milk and water. “Oh, good, you’re awake,” he said happily, placing the food tray on his desk. He hovered to Kunimitsu and assisted the latter to a sitting position before placing the tray on Kunimitsu’s lap. “Mrs. Inoue sent this food for you. You have to eat before you take the medicine. She said that the doctor said it will ruin your stomach if you don’t eat first.”
“The doctor?” Kunimitsu asked.
“Yes,” Eiji said with a quick nod. “The master sent for a doctor last night. Can you eat with your right hand?”
Kunimitsu nodded, picking the spoon up with his uninjured hand and sipping the soup. It was hot and savory and it calmed his addled senses.
“I don’t know which surprised me more - that the master went to the kitchen in the middle of the night to ask for you, that he actually went to the forest in the middle of the hailstorm to find you or that he actually ordered us to let a doctor into the mansion.” Eiji nodded to himself in a contemplative manner. And then he shook his head in confusion. “What did you do to him?” he asked accusingly.
Kunimitsu blinked, showing that he had no idea what Eiji was talking about.
“Well, he looked…” Eiji paused, tilting his head to find the word, “scared when he found out that you had left. For a moment, I thought he was going to fire all of us for letting you leave. But I guess you really don’t know… Just here, remember to take your medicine,” he said, patting a brown bottle on the bedside table. “Mrs. Inoue said you should take two tablets after every meal. I’m going to the kitchen to tell everyone you’re awake and then I’ll be back to get the dishes.”
Taking long springy steps to the door, Eiji left the room humming to himself.
Left alone, Kunimitsu tried to make sense of the things that Eiji told him. But his aching elbow must have been affecting his brain because he couldn’t think straight. After finishing breakfast, he set the tray aside and took the medicine. A few minutes later, he was asleep again.
He woke up in time for lunch, but he didn’t feel like eating again so he asked for a glass of warm milk before taking his medicine. This time, though Mrs. Inoue was extremely opposed to the idea, Kunimitsu rose from bed, ignoring the twitching pain on his arm and walked to the library to get a book. He was surprised when he saw Syusuke standing before the shelf that had “ART” on all of its rows. Syusuke was staring up at the books but he wasn’t reaching for any. He just seemed to be looking at them without the intention of reading them.
He knew Syusuke saw him come in but he continued walking toward the shelf for history without acknowledging Syusuke. It was, however, Syusuke who spoke first from across the room. “Are you still planning to leave?”
“Perhaps.”
“I see. You must hate me,” Syusuke said and the way he said the words was remarkably childish, not like the unfeeling way he spoke last night. “Do you hate me?”
Kunimitsu grabbed a book on the history of Alcian University with his right hand and flipped it open. “I can’t tell,” he said firmly and truthfully.
“I see,” Syusuke said before leaving the library.
Kunimitsu did not see that Syusuke’s head was down. He did not hear Syusuke let out a sigh.
Dropping to the nearest couch, Kunimitsu tried to read the book. But his mind kept wandering to what Syusuke asked. Although he was much too proud to admit it to Syusuke, he needed the job. But he didn’t want to compromise with Syusuke whose moods he didn’t understand. And he refused to stay if he couldn’t meet his family. Seeing as how Syusuke got destroyed by his family’s death, he expected the Duke to understand that he had to be with his family. But then he couldn’t discount the fact that Syusuke saved him last night. This somehow weakened his resolve to leave the mansion.
Later that night, over supper, his resolve to leave the mansion got completely shattered when Mr. Toyama appeared with the empty dishes of Syusuke’s supper. He took a seat between Ryoma, who was messily eating his cake, and Eiji who was happily eating his second slice of the cake. He turned to Kunimitsu, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes squinted as if he was trying to see something in Kunimitsu that he hadn’t seen before. “The master said,” he started, “that if you choose to stay, you cannot leave the mansion but your family may visit anytime.”
Like the obviously gaping Shiro, Eiji and Mrs. Inoue, Kunimitsu was surprised by this news.
“Seems like he doesn’t want you to leave,” said Mrs. Inoue, the first one to recover from shock.
“Maybe…” Shiro started, pausing to swallow the cake in his mouth, “he realizes that he can’t get another bookkeeper!”
“Perhaps,” Mr. Toyama said. But Kunimitsu knew that the butler didn’t agree because he continued to eye Kunimitsu intently.
*-*-*-*
For the next few nights, Kunimitsu shared dinner with the Duke again. They were back to the long, wordless meals. But this time, after every dinner, before Kunimitsu would leave to go back to work or to retire to bed, Syusuke would unfailingly ask, “Do you hate me?” Kunimitsu always replied with a curt, “I can’t tell.”
Kunimitsu had been back for a couple of weeks (his injury was completely healed for a week already) when Syusuke asked again, “Do you hate me?” This time Kunimitsu gave a different response. “Why do you keep asking?”
“I can’t help it,” Syusuke said staidly. His eyes were averted to the windows of the dining room. The reflection of the waning moon gave them a shimmer.
Kunimitsu left without really answering the question, wondering how his answer would matter to Syusuke. Pushing the thought away, he headed to the library to continue accounting the bills of the tenants for the next day’s collection. Making the roster was tedious but Kunimitsu was glad that he was able to finish it just a little past midnight. He fixed the things on the table, sorted some of the papers into the shelves along the wall and, carrying the small lamp from the table, he opened the door. Just as he was closing the door, he spotted a figure walking across the main library. He focused his eyes, alert just in case a burglar had infiltrated the mansion. He relaxed with relief however when he recognized the figure as Syusuke, who was walking around, inspecting the books.
“Why are you here?” he asked in his usual deep, emotionless voice.
Syusuke didn’t turn to look at him; instead, he ran his hands along a row of books on the shelf that said “FICTION.” “I can’t sleep,” Syusuke said matter-of-factly.
Though Kunimitsu knew Syusuke couldn’t see him, he nodded and went out of the library. As he closed the door, he thought he heard Syusuke say a faint “Good night.”
Kunimitsu had been asleep for most of the night when he woke up feeling very thirsty. He crept quietly to the kitchen to get a glass of water, which he drank in one swig. For a moment, he debated whether to go back to sleep or to get the roster that he had wanted to check before sleeping but had been too sleepy take with him earlier. Feeling widely awake, he decided to go back to the library. He was crossing to the records room when he thought he heard a slow, steady breathing. When he turned, he saw Syusuke curled up into a ball on the couch, probably having fallen asleep while reading since a book lay open on the carpeted floor. Kunimitsu had pondered waking Syusuke up to get him to sleep in his own room. But Kunimitsu quickly dismissed the thought, thinking that he if Syusuke had just fallen asleep, he shouldn’t disrupt the Duke’s sleep. Besides, they would probably just end up bantering. When he had obtained the list, he began to tread cautiously out of the library, making sure not to wake the Duke up. In the middle of the library however, a few feet from the couch, he stopped and stared. Syusuke was writhing in the couch, groaning and sweating as if in pain.
Quickly, Kunimitsu walked over to the couch, dropped to the floor, reached out and shook Syusuke awake. The Duke bolted up, wild-eyed, breathing heavily, staring blankly. Kunimitsu’s eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and concern. Since he started working in the mansion, this was the first time he saw real, raw emotion on Syusuke’s face. It was filled with terror and anguish. Syusuke’s eyes were unfocused, as if seemed they didn’t know where to look.
“Syusuke?” Kunimitsu said quietly, his usual toneless voice was etched with a hint of worry.
Like he had only recognized Kunimitsu for the first time since he woke up, Syusuke’s eyes widened and he mumbled, “Yuuta… Yumiko…”
Kunimitsu knew these names. He had heard Syusuke sing their praises in Alcian. They were Syusuke’s siblings. It was then that Kunimitsu understood what kind of nightmare Syusuke had.
When he saw Syusuke’s eyes again, he saw so much pain in them that he had to look away. But after a deep breath, he returned his attention to Syusuke. Syusuke was then hugging his knees to his chest, his head buried in his arms. He wasn’t sobbing. He wasn’t doing anything, just sitting there silently.
Pressing his lips, Kunimitsu gripped Syusuke’s shoulders, trying to shake him to his senses. But Syusuke gazed up at him looking so lost that Kunimitsu thought the Duke would have looked better if he had been crying. “Do you want something?” Kunimitsu asked, completely losing the usual impatient tone he used whenever he spoke to Syusuke.
But Syusuke stubbornly shook his head and buried his head in his arms again. Kunimitsu didn’t know how to stop Syusuke from doing this. He didn’t know how to react really. Syusuke has never shown this vulnerability before, not even before his family’s death, and he knew that part of the reason Syusuke detached himself was to hide this side of him. All Kunimitsu could do was sit next to Syusuke and wait for the latter to calm down.
Fifteen minutes have passed, however, and Syusuke still hadn’t moved a muscle. Hoping this was the right thing to do, Kunimitsu faced Syusuke, pried him out of his fetal position and held him tightly. It felt a little awkward because Syusuke did not move for the longest time and Kunimitsu wasn’t used to comforting people. But his mother did this when their father died and it helped a lot. After a moment, Syusuke finally moved and buried his head in the crook of Kunimitsu’s neck. Kunimitsu felt the hair at the back of his head rise every time he felt Syusuke’s hot breath on his skin, and it felt uncomfortable. Not bad. Just uncomfortable. Kunimitsu found this strange. Stranger still, he knew that if Syusuke asked him now, he would say no, he didn’t hate Syusuke.
When Syusuke let go, he looked a little better. He was vaguely looking at the floor. His eyes had less pain, but they were still dark with sorrow. Without looking at Kunimitsu, he got to his feet saying, “I’m going to take a walk.”
“You should sleep,” Kunimitsu said firmly.
“I don’t think so,” Syusuke said quietly.
Kunimitsu didn’t know why he said what he said next. Perhaps he felt sorry for Syusuke. Perhaps he wanted his debt paid. “I’ll wake you up if you start having a nightmare.”
Syusuke turned sharply to him and let out a hollow laugh. “You wouldn’t do that.”
Not saying a word, Kunimitsu merely looked at Syusuke, whose eyes widened perhaps with disbelief.
“I thought you hate me,” Syusuke whispered.
Throwing Syusuke a side-glance, Kunimitsu said, “I never said so.”
“You never said otherwise,” Syusuke noted.
“Why does it matter?” Kunimitsu asked, but Syusuke ignored him and started walking. Kunimitsu had no choice but to follow.
This was the first time Kunimitsu had been to the North Wing. Its walls had more white patches than the other wings. He guessed that Syusuke’s family probably used to love seeing his works. But it was darker than the other wings; none of the torches were lit, no light streamed from the rooms. It was also a lot quieter than other wings since nobody occupied the rooms on either side of the hallway. Kunimitsu stopped right behind Syusuke when they reached the last door.
The room was the biggest in the mansion and understandably so; it was old and ancient, furnished with antique, and it belonged to one of the kingdom’s oldest titles. But it wasn’t what he had imagined Syusuke’s room to be; he had expected Syusuke’s room to have an easel, a mess of sketchbooks, brushes, pencil, crumpled paper. This room, however, was tidy except for the oval bed that had been slept in. The pieces of the chess set on the center table were at their proper positions. The two armchairs on two sides of the center table looked like they hadn’t been sat on. The cushions on the cushion facing the bed were set properly. The work desk at the far wall had no clutter of paper, no stray book, not even a feather quill.
Feeling a little weary, Kunimitsu sat on one of the armchairs by the fire, hoping he had the sense to bring a book. But he had been too hasty to remember. He didn’t like it, being hasty. He used to think before speaking and acting but recently - tonight, most especially - he didn’t seem to be putting thought into his words and actions. He just hoped he wouldn’t regret this rashness of offering to look after Syusuke.
Syusuke sat on the armchair across the table. “I’m really not planning to sleep,” he said, taking one of the clear crystal pawns on the chess board before him. “Pawn to G3,” he said as he moved the pawn a square forward. He tilted his head as he glanced at Kunimitsu, urging the latter to make his move.
Kunimitsu studied Syusuke’s face. The Duke seemed more sober now, and part of Kunimitsu believed that after tonight’s incident, the Duke would stop being so aloof. After all, he no longer needed to pretend to be strong and firm if someone had seen him so forlorn. But Kunimitsu hoped that Syusuke would at least sleep tonight; if his guess was right, nightmares had been haunting Syusuke for so long and nobody - not even Mr. Toyama - knew so Syusuke probably hadn’t had a proper sleep in months. Kunimitsu realized though that Syusuke was as stubborn as he was, and so he could never convince Syusuke to sleep if Syusuke had decided otherwise.
But perhaps, Kunimitsu thought, he could make the game boring enough to make Syusuke fall asleep. He picked up a dark crystal knight and put it on C3.
Syusuke must have been drained emotionally and physically because after his fourth move and as Kunimitsu was deciding on his, Syusuke had already dozed off, his head against the corner of the armchair’s backrest. For a brief moment, Kunimitsu watched Syusuke sleep and then he himself had fallen deep in slumber.
Shielding his eyes from the bright rays of the sun coming from the window, Kunimitsu checked his surroundings for familiarity. He saw Syusuke watching him with keen blue eyes and he realized that he had fallen asleep in Syusuke’s bedroom. Rubbing his rather stiff neck with his hand, he said, “I should go to the kitchen.”
“You don’t have to,” Syusuke said quietly. “Mr. Toyama’s bringing in lunch.”
“Lunch?”
Syusuke nodded and Kunimitsu noticed gleams of amusement on the Duke’s blue eyes. “We slept late,” he reminded. His lips curled into a slight smile.
Slightly taken aback by the sudden change in Syusuke’s façade, Kunimitsu nodded silently. Although Syusuke was not smiling the way he usually did before his family’s accident, his face was brighter, more pleasant than the usual empty one he had been wearing over the past few months. Kunimitsu could definitely say that this Syusuke was better than last night’s.
“Thank you.”
Kunimitsu looked up, slightly confused. “Sorry?”
Syusuke gave him a weak smile. “I said thank you.”
“We’re just even,” Kunimitsu replied.
Slowly, Syusuke nodded. But he didn’t seem convinced. “Kunimitsu -“
Whatever he had to say was cut off by Mr. Toyama’s arrival. The butler was pushing a cart of what smelled like really good roasted chicken. Once or twice, as Mr. Toyama set the chessboard and chess pieces aside to replace them with the food, Kunimitsu caught the butler’s eyes stray inquisitively towards him. But Mr. Toyama’s curiosity was not going to be satiated for, after he set the food on the table, Syusuke dismissed him instantly.
“Kunimitsu?” Syusuke said cautiously over their lunch. “You don’t hate me, do you?”
Kunimitsu arched a brow. “Why do you keep asking that?”
Syusuke merely shrugged and veered his attention to the still smoking chicken between them.
*-*-*-*
Nobody failed to observe the changes in the Duke in the next few weeks. He was no longer aloof and cool. He was almost smiling all the time. He no longer spent the entire day in his room; instead, he usually went to the library to read or to bother Kunimitsu (he enjoyed doing both equally). Sometimes, if he could get Kunimitsu to stop working, he was seen finally out in the winter sun showing Kunimitsu the many sights of the mansion, the statues in the garden, the maze and the two fountains (“Too bad,” he often said, “they’re all covered in snow”). This made the general mood of kitchen lighter (voices were higher and happier in the kitchen these days). The servants no longer spoke about Syusuke in hushed cautious voices. But to their minds, the change in the Duke wouldn’t be complete if he didn’t start painting again.
Kunimitsu shared this opinion. After all, he knew that next to his family, art was the most important thing for the Duke. During one of his and Syusuke’s game of chess, he asked why the Duke stopped painting. Syusuke’s face immediately went blank, his eyes hazed, his lips pressed. Syusuke acted as if he didn’t hear the question, and he proceeded to make his move. This hostile reaction to the very mention of painting puzzled Kunimitsu. Months ago, Syusuke had been so hell-bent on shifting from Economics to Classical Arts, even claiming that if he had to relinquish his title for his art, he would. Hence, Kunimitsu suspected that neither mere depression nor lack of inspiration was the reason behind Syusuke’s resistance to painting. Whatever it was though Kunimitsu could only guess.
Eiji, after finally being allowed to go to the North Wing, had been assigned the task of sweeping the family rooms down (Eiji recalled that Mrs. Inoue told him to be relentless about cleaning: let no spider be left alive, no sheet unwashed, no curtain replaced, no dust unswept, no carpet unbrushed). The last room he chose to clean was the Duchess’ bedroom, where he said they had kept the master’s paintings. Wearing a bandanna around his head and carrying a broom with one hand, he entered the records room and asked if Kunimitsu wanted to see the paintings - in exchange, of course, for helping him clean. After all, the Duchess’ bedroom was nearly as large as that of the Duke’s. And it had a parlor. And a tearoom. And a balcony. And plant boxes. And, well, the paintings would need dusting too, Eiji said.
Kunimitsu let Eiji lead the way to the Duchess’ room, which was just a study room away from the Duke’s bedroom. Before opening the door, Eiji told him to avoid making noises. He said they didn’t want the Duke to know that the paintings were there. And then Eiji stifled a laugh saying, “I forgot. You don’t make any noise at all.” Still snickering, Eiji inserted the key through the keyhole and pushed the door open.
The room was undeniably a lady’s room. It had more things in it than the Duke’s room. Near one wall mounted with two full-body mirrors, there was a divider that looked like it had been imported from some exotic place. It had more chairs probably for the ladies that waited on the Duchess. The colors were lighter and brighter than the earth colors of the Duke’s room. But what appeared more notable to Kunimitsu were the rows of framed paintings that filled the room. All the space that could be filled was practically occupied by a painting of the same set of people: a smiling, middle-aged lady who reminded him of his mother, an attractive smiling young lady with flaming red hair and a boy a little younger than him who, unlike the others, was not smiling at all. Occasionally, among these, a portrait of a serious and noble-looking man with graying brown hair and blue eyes appeared. Judging by the scenes that Syusuke portrayed (family picnics, the boy chasing a dog, the two ladies doing embroidery), theirs was a happy and peaceful family. He couldn’t think of why anybody would want to destroy it. But then again, theirs was also an old, wealthy and influential name. And they had their disputes about the title. There was the former Duke’s older brother who ran away and came back claiming the title, and there were countless distant relatives who tried to discredit the former Duke.
“Here,” Eiji said, handing Kunimitsu a feather duster. “Clean the paintings and the furniture.”
They hadn’t been cleaning the room for an hour when Eiji approached him and began handing him a wet rag and the broom. “I need to go to town to get something. I’ll be back later.”
Before Kunimitsu could even object, Eiji had gone out of the room. Shaking his head, Kunimitsu continued with his work. In an hour, a knock came to the door. Relieved and tired, Kunimitsu said, “Eiji…”
“I thought I heard someone in -“
Syusuke stopped in mid-sentence. His eyes widened as they landed on the paintings. “Why are these here?” he asked, his tone had no trace of emotion. He took quick strides to one of the family portraits and flung it to the wall, sending splinters of the wooden frame on the carpet. He took hold of another painting, raised his hand to do the same but Kunimitsu dropped the broom and gripped his arm, letting the painting slide through his fingers to the floor.
“What are you doing?” Kunimitsu asked through gritted teeth.
“I told them to get rid of the paintings. I told them to,” Syusuke mumbled to himself, his eyes were as unfocused as they were that night in the library.
“They didn’t want to,” Kunimitsu said firmly, still clutching Syusuke’s arms.
“I don’t want to see them,” Syusuke hissed trying to free himself from Kunimitsu’s, his blue eyes flashing dangerously.
Kunimitsu glared at Syusuke. “Stop it. Stop acting like a child.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Syusuke said tonelessly. “You didn’t lose your family to a traitor.”
Scowling, Kunimitsu studied Syusuke’s face. “What does this have to do with your paintings?”
“Everything,” Syusuke replied in a hollow voice. “Uncle taught me to paint. Uncle had them killed.”
Staring at Syusuke in disbelief, Kunimitsu shook his head. “I don’t - “
“He played me. He used me. He wanted me to paint. He wanted me to go to Alcian, study Classical Arts and give up the title so that he can kill my parents and get the title. But he miscalculated. He thought he could force me to give up the title.”
“Or maybe,” Kunimitsu started, “he wanted you to lose your head to discredit your claim.” He gazed down at Syusuke. “Do you still think he miscalculated?”
Syusuke’s eyes grew round and wide. A streak of pain crossed his entire countenance. At that moment, Kunimitsu hoped he had been less frank by nature so that he could have said the words differently, with more kindness and sympathy.
Syusuke took his arm away from Kunimitsu, who let it go. He sat on the edge of his mother’s bed, looking at the paintings around him. “Do they all think that? That I’m losing my head?”
Kunimitsu hesitated but he knew that the truth would help. “They think you’re giving in to depression,” he stated. “But they don’t blame you for it.”
Syusuke laughed but without mirth. “Such kind words.” He threw himself to the bed, grabbed one of the dusty pillows and covered his head with it. He remained silent for a while and then he sat up again, tossing the pillow aside. “How about you? Do you think I’m crazy?”
Remembering his own incredulity at the sight of Syusuke in his rented room at Oleander Inn, Kunimitsu nodded. “I always thought you were.”
At this, Syusuke threw his head in a genuine laugh. “Indeed, indeed. And I always thought you have a sense of humor.” Syusuke’s eyes narrowed and he asked, “Would you hate me if I did this?”
“Did -?” Kunimitsu couldn’t finish his inquiry. Syusuke had grabbed the lapel of his shirt and pulled him close, drawing him to a long, fierce kiss. When Syusuke had let go of him, Kunimitsu gaped at Syusuke, not knowing how to comprehend what just happened.
Syusuke peered at him. “Do you hate me?”
Still trying to recover from the confusion he was in, Kunimitsu shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
Syusuke smiled brightly. “That’s enough for me.”
“Kunimitsu, Kunimitsu,” went a voice from the door. They both turned and saw Eiji, who seemed to have just realized that his master was in the room too. He bowed quickly. “Your Grace, I - er - I didn’t know -“
Syusuke rose up, and adopted his usual wide smile. “What is it, Eiji?”
Very confused, Eiji said in a half-panicked, half-shouting voice, “The Earl’s mother is waiting at the main parlor, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Eiji,” Syusuke said in his old, soft voice. “Will you make sure she’s given tea and cakes?” At once, Eiji bowed and left. Turning to Kunimitsu, Syusuke said, “I need to talk to her as a good host does. You should go change.” He gave him a faint smile. “I don’t want her to think that I’m a monster of a master.”
*-*-*-*
Syusuke and Ayana stopped talking when Kunimitsu entered the parlor. Mr. Toyama beckoned him to sit on the couch beside his mother and offered him a cup of tea, which he declined.
“Lord Kunimitsu,” Syusuke started, making Kunimitsu frown because of the sudden formality, “Lady Ayana was telling me that your family is moving back to Kestral. I’m glad the case of the farm accident is already solved.” Kunimitsu frowned and Syusuke blinked and nodded slightly. Syusuke turned to Ayana and asked, “When are you planning to go back to Kestral, my lady?”
“Within this week, Your Grace,” Ayana replied with an undeniably happy smile.
“Of course you’re planning to send the Earl back to Alcian University?” Syusuke inquired.
“Certainly, my lord. There is nothing the Earl wants more than education,” Ayana said proudly.
Kunimitsu noticed Syusuke glance at him with a faint smile as if in agreement. “Indeed. I believe he enjoyed using our library.” He got up and said, “Perhaps I should leave the two of you now so you may talk in private.”
Ayana and Kunimitsu rose as well. “Thank you for your generosity, Your Grace.”
“You are very welcome, my lady.”
During the entire time that Ayana was telling him what happened with the case, Kunimitsu wasn’t really listening. His mother’s words entered into one ear and left through the other. His mind kept straying to what passed between him and Syusuke before his mother arrived and what was going to happen now that he was going back to Kestral. The sensible part of him told him that he shouldn’t really worry because Syusuke’s old self was coming back slowly and steadily. He didn’t even know why he cared so much. But something was pulling him here. Maybe the knowledge that Syusuke wanted him here? Maybe because Syusuke needed him here?
“Kunimitsu?”
Shaken back to the present, Kunimitsu quickly said, “I need to talk to the Duke.”
“Very well,” Ayana said, slightly frowning because of her son’s rare display of absent-mindedness. “I’ll go to your room and pack your things.”
After showing his mother to his room, Kunimitsu walked briskly toward the North Wing in search for Syusuke. He found the Duke in the former Duchess’ bedroom, talking to Eiji and giving instructions on where to mount the paintings. Carrying some of the smaller paintings out of the room, Eiji stopped to grin at Kunimitsu and left for wherever Syusuke pointed him to.
“You haven’t left yet,” Syusuke remarked. He was smiling like the first time Kunimitsu saw him and yet he was not. His smile drooped a little at the corners and it wasn’t a completely cheerful one.
“Will you be painting again?”
“Yes.” Syusuke picked up one of the family portraits from the floor as if to make his point. “I shouldn’t let him take away my art. I don’t owe it to him.”
Kunimitsu’s eyes softened. “Will you be all right?”
At this, Syusuke tilted his head and lifted a brow. “If you’re asking if I’ll recover from my apparently manic depression… I think I’ll be all right. Thank you, though.” He raised his hand as if to touch Kunimitsu, but he dropped it midway, probably thinking of how inappropriate it was and how anybody might come in at any time. He smiled widely and genuinely instead. “Besides, it’s not like we’re not going to see each other again in Alcian.” He beamed even wider and his eyes gleamed with mischief.
*-*-*-*
Kunimitsu couldn’t help resenting his sisters on his first three days back at home. They wouldn’t stop asking him about the Duke especially since their mother said that the Duke didn’t seem at all like what the rumors made him. Duke Alhandri, their mother said, was polite, well-mannered, soft-spoken and pleasant. On top of that, he was so very handsome - almost beautiful - and so very charming. She added that it was very fortunate that the Duke was neither engaged nor married yet. Although he knew that their mother was only teasing his sisters, he couldn’t help resenting her too.
For his part, Kunimitsu never answered any of their questions, showing an extreme lack of interest. He always retreated to his room to read whenever they started talking about the Duke. Though his sisters considered this as his usual attachment to silence, this didn’t pass unnoticed by Ayana who on the afternoon before they planned to leave for Kestral followed her son to the attic room.
She found him sitting in bed, leaning against the wall. In his left hand was an old book that she often saw him reading. She sat on the edge of the bed and her eyes fell on the two folded pieces of paper to Kunimitsu’s right. Curious, she unfolded them and then she smiled. “Did you draw this? I didn’t know you had an artistic side.”
Kunimitsu looked up from the pages of his book. He saw his mother holding up a sketch of him, and he shook his head.
“I didn’t think so,” Ayana said flippantly. “And this?”
Kunimitsu saw the caricature that came with the sketch. “No,” he said.
“Who drew them then?” Ayana asked.
“The Duke did,” Kunimitsu replied.
Ayana nodded. “I see. Do you miss him? - I mean… it. Do you miss it?”
“The what?”
“The mansion. It does have a very good library, doesn’t it?” She asked. Kunimitsu, however, had the feeling she wasn’t talking about the library. “If you want to stay in the mansion, I would understand. After all, the library will help you catch up with the lessons for the next term. I take it that the Duke wouldn’t mind?” When Kunimitsu didn’t answer, she said, “You don’t really have to go to Kestral with us. I already wrote Todou and told him to prepare the house for us. And if you would leave the list of the items that we sold, I’m sure we can get them back.”
“Staying in the North would be being selfish,” Kunimitsu said.
“No, dear,” Ayana said. “Keeping you with us and being hindrances to your… future would be selfish.” She smiled. “So tomorrow we’ll drop you at the mansion?”
*-*-*-*
The next afternoon, the coach that was to travel back to Kestral stopped at the gates of the Alhandri mansion. Shiro rushed forward and opened the gates, looking wonderingly at Kunimitsu who was taking his trunk out of the coach. “Goodbye, dear,” Ayana said, bending forward and kissing her son’s forehead. “We’ll write when we reach Kestral.”
After the coach rolled off to the direction of the south, Kunimitsu with some assistance by Shiro got his luggage into the mansion. “The Earl! The Earl is back!!!” announced Shiro as they got into the kitchen.
Mrs. Inoue instantly dropped to a curtsy at the sight of him. “My lord,” she said anxiously. She looked particularly harried today, like she hadn’t had sleep yet (well, either that or the unlikely chance that she had been cooking for an army). “The master is in his room. He has a very high fever the entire night and it hasn’t gone down yet.”
Lines of concern formed on Kunimitsu’s face. But he automatically shifted to his usual calm composure and said, “Please send cold water, some towels and soup to the Duke’s room. I’ll look after him so you may sleep.”
Looking very relieved, Mrs. Inoue nodded and immediately put Shiro to work, ordering him to get the water.
Syusuke was curled in bed in a disturbed sleep, sweating profusely, breathing raggedly when Kunimitsu reached the Duke’s room. Kunimitsu pulled an armchair to the side of the oval bed and reached out to check Syusuke’s temperature. Syusuke was burning with fever, no wonder Syusuke’s usually pale skin flushed red. When Mr. Toyama brought in a basin of cold water and towels, Kunimitsu instantly dipped a towel in the ice cold water and started to wipe Syusuke’s face and neck.
“What has he been doing?” he asked as he dipped the towel in the water and moved on to wipe Syusuke’s arms with it.
“He has been painting, my lord,” Mr. Toyama said quietly. “He hardly slept. He kept saying he needed to finish it soon.”
Kunimitsu nodded though he didn’t really understand. “You may get some rest too,” he told Mr. Toyama. The butler was reluctant to leave but Kunimitsu insisted so Mr. Toyama had no choice but leave the room.
That night, Kunimitsu had his supper sent to Syusuke’s room but hardly touched it. He alternated between wiping Syusuke’s body with the cold towel and with making sure that Syusuke didn’t sweat through his shirt. Later into the night, when Syusuke didn’t show any sign of waking, Kunimitsu went down to the already deserted kitchen to get a teapot to make sure the Duke had something hot to drink when he woke up and a pitcher of water. Then he quickly went back to the Duke’s room.
Kunimitsu was reading a book when he heard the silk blankets rustle. He got to his feet and approached the bed where Syusuke was forcing himself to sit up. “What do you need?” Kunimitsu asked.
“Thirsty,” mumbled the half-awake Syusuke who was rubbing his throat. Kunimitsu immediately took a glass, filled it with water and handed it to Syusuke.
After a few small sips, Syusuke gave him back the glass and rolled back to sleep. At around midnight, Kunimitsu checked Syusuke’s forehead with the back of his hand and let out a sigh. Syusuke’s fever seemed to be going down steadily. He got back to the armchair near Syusuke’s bed and continued reading. In fifteen minutes, he too was asleep.
Kunimitsu woke up hours later to the sight of an empty, unmade bed. From what he could see from the gaps between the curtains, the sun was just rising and he knew Syusuke couldn’t have gone out of the mansion. He went out of the room and started to search for the Duke. But he didn’t have to look far as the Duchess’ bedroom door was wide open and he saw Syusuke wrapped in a blanket, sitting on a stool in the middle of the room, facing a canvass that was propped on an easel. When Syusuke noticed Kunimitsu approach, he grabbed a white cloth and flung it carelessly on the canvass.
“Good morning,” Syusuke greeted cheerfully. He didn’t look as fully recovered as Kunimitsu would have liked but he didn’t seem like he would faint any minute.
“You should be in bed,” Kunimitsu said flatly.
Syusuke walked toward Kunimitsu and said, mimicking Kunimitsu’s tone, “You should be in Kestral.” He stopped a foot away from Kunimitsu and asked, “Why are you here? Did you come back to say goodbye? Is your mother waiting for you?”
“I came to stay till term starts,” Kunimitsu said quickly.
That certainly made Syusuke’s eyes fly open in surprise. “But I don’t -“
Syusuke was going to say that he didn’t understand. But now he did because Kunimitsu’s lips were pressed against his, kissing him. He kissed back gently, opening his mouth to encourage Kunimitsu to explore it. Kunimitsu accepted the invitation and slid his tongue into Syusuke’s mouth, sucking softly, nibbling gently. Letting his hands loop around Kunimitsu neck, he pressed Kunimitsu’s face closer, deepening the kiss.
They kissed and kissed and kissed until they both ran out of breath.
Still catching his breath, arms wrapped around Kunimitsu’s neck, blanket lying on the floor, Syusuke remarked happily, “I think you’re going to get sick too. And I think I got sick trying to finish a painting that apparently didn’t need to be finished that soon.”
“What is it?” Kunimitsu asked, disengaging himself from Syusuke’s arms and walking to the easel.
Picking up his blanket and wrapping it around himself, Syusuke followed Kunimitsu and threw away the white cloth from the canvass. What Kunimitsu saw in front of him was his own image, reading in an armchair by the fire. Syusuke feigned a sad frown. “I was going to give it to you before you went to Kestral. What do I do with this now?”
“I’ll have it mounted in my room,” Kunimitsu offered, eyes still fixed on painting. He felt undeniably elated that he was the one who helped Syusuke get back to his art.
“In our room?” Syusuke said. He chuckled when Kunimitsu glared at him. “This means you’ll be my subject, doesn’t it?”
Pressing his lips, Kunimitsu nodded.
“I want my next masterpiece to be you portrayed like one of the gods of mythology,” Syusuke said proudly.
Kunimitsu looked up quickly. “They usually don’t wear anything in paintings and sculptures.”
Syusuke wrapped his arms around Kunimitsu. Laughing, he whispered, “My point exactly.”
End