Red, Red Flowers
Dec. 20th, 2009 10:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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synchronicalRed, Red Flowers
It had been a small thing that set this in motion. His mother had once given him a feather pen and he had not wanted it so he had set it at his windowsill on a still night and asked someone to take it from him. The next day it was gone.
After his mother had... after his mother had.. he would not say it, still, two years later. He would not say it even when Luka came to his door and knocked, twice. When she said: I'm here to speak with the King's Scholar. He would have to answer, then, and say that the King's Scholar had died and there is yet no one to replace her. And he would have to watch Luka's face, both of her eyes would drop half shut in knowing and she would say, I'm sorry for your loss.
It was one day after Luka had left and Kamui had shut the door behind him when another knock came. Three times, a pause, and then two and another pause and then a voice called out, "Hey, am I at the right place?" A boy's voice, maybe slightly older than him (but it was hard to tell through the door).
He opened the door. A young man with a grinning face waved and then stepped into his room. "Ah. . . I was sure I had the right place. I went through all of the other rooms already, so this had to be it." He said, and then swept a bow that had him backing up to the windowsill where he sat down.
"Who are you? These are my — " Kamui stopped himself when the odd (he was dressed in a cloak like a traveling performer, but Kamui could see the shape of two swords at his under the cloth) man pulled a feather out from his sleeve and waved it through the air. ". . . My pen."
"Aha! See! This is right, I told you!" The young man said, to no one in particular.
". . . where did you get my pen?"
"Did you know that some people consider feathers to be the perfect gift?"
And that was how he met Kaito.
For five more years Kaito came at the end of every Sevenday and was always gone before morning's light. He taught Kamui all about secret places, the hidden passway under the bridge and the way to conceal things in a pocket, or to conceal something inside another concealed item. And for two years Kamui grew taller and Kaito did not.
"Kaito, I've wanted to ask you something," Kamui asked on a winter night.
"Hm? Oh, let me guess, you want to know if the beautiful lady Meiko fancies you?"
". . . No. I wanted to ask if you are not what you seem." To question a friend's (was he? He must be) humanity seemed crass, but he was also a man who collected and cataloged information.
"Ahhh, a question for all ages! Is it because my face hasn't gone wrinkly with worry like yours?"
"You don't age."
"Maybe I've just hidden my years away."
That made Kamui snort. "Inside a hollowed out book?" He asked. Kaito grinned, and slipped out the window into the night.
"Maybe."
It had been a small thing that set this in motion. His mother had once given him a feather pen and he had not wanted it so he had set it at his windowsill on a still night and asked someone to take it from him. The next day it was gone.
After his mother had... after his mother had.. he would not say it, still, two years later. He would not say it even when Luka came to his door and knocked, twice. When she said: I'm here to speak with the King's Scholar. He would have to answer, then, and say that the King's Scholar had died and there is yet no one to replace her. And he would have to watch Luka's face, both of her eyes would drop half shut in knowing and she would say, I'm sorry for your loss.
It was one day after Luka had left and Kamui had shut the door behind him when another knock came. Three times, a pause, and then two and another pause and then a voice called out, "Hey, am I at the right place?" A boy's voice, maybe slightly older than him (but it was hard to tell through the door).
He opened the door. A young man with a grinning face waved and then stepped into his room. "Ah. . . I was sure I had the right place. I went through all of the other rooms already, so this had to be it." He said, and then swept a bow that had him backing up to the windowsill where he sat down.
"Who are you? These are my — " Kamui stopped himself when the odd (he was dressed in a cloak like a traveling performer, but Kamui could see the shape of two swords at his under the cloth) man pulled a feather out from his sleeve and waved it through the air. ". . . My pen."
"Aha! See! This is right, I told you!" The young man said, to no one in particular.
". . . where did you get my pen?"
"Did you know that some people consider feathers to be the perfect gift?"
And that was how he met Kaito.
For five more years Kaito came at the end of every Sevenday and was always gone before morning's light. He taught Kamui all about secret places, the hidden passway under the bridge and the way to conceal things in a pocket, or to conceal something inside another concealed item. And for two years Kamui grew taller and Kaito did not.
"Kaito, I've wanted to ask you something," Kamui asked on a winter night.
"Hm? Oh, let me guess, you want to know if the beautiful lady Meiko fancies you?"
". . . No. I wanted to ask if you are not what you seem." To question a friend's (was he? He must be) humanity seemed crass, but he was also a man who collected and cataloged information.
"Ahhh, a question for all ages! Is it because my face hasn't gone wrinkly with worry like yours?"
"You don't age."
"Maybe I've just hidden my years away."
That made Kamui snort. "Inside a hollowed out book?" He asked. Kaito grinned, and slipped out the window into the night.
"Maybe."
(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-20 06:08 pm (UTC)