Vagrant Princess chapter 6
Title: The Vagrant Princess
Series: Prince of Tennis
Rating: PG
Pairings: Sanada/Sakuno, Taka/Fuji
Summary: While Fuji is lingering in Rokkaku, an accident happens to Sakuno at the logging site!
Disclaimer: PoT is Konomi Takeshi's
Chapter 6
“You teach?” The little boy looked at Fuji with fascination brimming in his widened eyes. “Is that-boring?”
Fuji smiled. “Well, I do more than just teach. I’m more of a caretaker.”
Kohta simply blinked at the word, as though its definition were incomprehensible to the world of a five-year-old working in his parents’ restaurant. Sitting cross-legged on the bed with Fuji, the boy fiddled with his fingers as he scoured for more questions to continue the interrogation of his uncle.
A light behind the boy’s eyes flashed as he came up with what could be a fascinating discussion for his young mind. “Do you see the king a lot?”
“No, not often.”
“Oh.” Kohta deflated a little bit. “Are there more important people? A queen? Does the princess have brothers and sisters?”
“One brother and one grandmother-the queen. I speak with them more often than I ever did with the king. Mostly it’s about running an errand or finding the princess for them. Not that exciting.”
Kohta, however, was thoroughly awed by this, but before another word could come from him, his mother knocked on the door and peeked inside.
“Kohta,” her voice drifted from the crack. “You shouldn’t keep Uncle Syuusuke for so long, sweetie. He has many things to do.”
“But mama,” the boy started.
Yumiko opened the door fully. “Itsuki is going to buy some groceries soon. You can go with him, Kohta.”
Now the little boy seemed torn between the prospects-staying with his newly acquainted uncle or go to town with Mr. Itsuki.
“Sorry, Uncle Syuusuke,” he said embarrassedly as he slid off of the bed.
Before he could run downstairs, he mother quickly admonished him, “Now, Kohta, at least say goodbye. Syuusuke may be gone when you get back.”
Hardly wishing to argue, he slung his arms around Fuji’s leg as the man had stood up as well. “Bye, Uncle Syuusuke!”
Fuji released an airy laugh as he patted the boy’s head. “You have fun, Kohta.”
“Yep!” With the broad grin still stretching his youthful features, Kohta bounded past his mother, audibly jumping down the stairs.
“Do you need to leave soon?” Yumiko asked in a distant voice, the air in the room growing damp with the question.
Guilt again. “Yes,” Fuji murmured shortly, unaffectedly.
“Well, you should have some breakfast. It won’t take long to make something.”
“…thank you.”
Yumiko’s muted footsteps closed the distance between them, and the soft hand daring to touch his cheek compelled Fuji to face his older sister. “Sometimes,” she said wonderingly; “I still see you, a young boy with so many dreams. But now, you are here. I have to remind myself that you’re no longer fourteen.”
Ignoring the disquieting hollow of emotions in his chest, his pale face remained apathetic. “Yumiko.”
She suddenly beamed, preventing any excuse he might say. “Come downstairs when you want.”
With that, she was gone, and Fuji was alone again-left at the mercy of his own thoughts. From what information he had gathered from Yumiko and Saeki, Sakuno could be anywhere from Rokkaku to Yamabuki to Shitenhouji-far from ideal circumstances.
I don’t even know where to start. Realistically, she is either in the one of the towns staying with someone or she is still traveling with those merchants.
He hoped the latter was the case, for in his mind, he figured that merchants would use the main highway; therefore, he could soon catch up with her. He picked up his small bag, and tugging a little on his shirt to straighten out the wrinkles, he headed downstairs himself. The vacancy of the restaurant only served to emphasize the time of day as most guests had already departed or, being night-callers as Fuji had been, were still asleep. Yumiko came out from the back just as he entered the downstairs room, and she hurried back inside after telling him that she would bring him the food. As Fuji looked at the plate that his sister left for him, its contents, despite its simplicity, smelled tantalizing, and soon half of it was devoured.
Meanwhile, the sight of the room-devoid of occupants-served as an excellent theater for disparaging echoes and distant memories. Several times did Fuji have to look again to the tables in the front, lit by the cheery light filtering through the windows. It had become unsettling to continually sense a presence only for him to look at the tables, always unoccupied. At times, he could still hear the voices from long ago.
That was until he realized that he did hear that same voice.
Fuji swallowed more food with difficulty as he watched the man come from the stairwell. He was speaking with a guest, but the conversation was faint to Fuji’s ears, which suddenly felt stuffed with cotton. On the surface, Taka hadn’t changed much. His face had long since relinquished all curves of boyishness, but his dark eyes still shimmered with familiarity as his polite smile still caused an uneven jump in Fuji’s chest. And when those eyes met his own, he averted his gaze, ignoring the tingling on the side of his neck, knowing that there was still a pair of eyes focused on him. The low buzzing in the background continued much to the irritation of Fuji, but lost in his own sullen thoughts, he only noticed that the flow of words had stopped when a figure shadowed the light from the window. Looking up, Fuji could not comprehend the expression on the man now standing before him-something indiscernible, perhaps concern or unadorned curiosity.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
“Yumiko mentioned you,” Taka began with a half-smile, courteous yet still wearing telltale signs of pained surprise. “I wouldn’t believe it unless I saw you.”
“You’ve seen me now.”
“I still can’t believe it.”
Fuji remained silent. It remained unknown whether this was because he had no excuse for himself or because more unsure words were being formed in Taka’s conscience.
“Why have you come back, completely out of the blue?” Taka asks in a nearly humorous tone, but there was a sharpness in those words which nipped at Fuji.
“Yumiko didn’t tell you that?” Fuji knew his sister better than that, or he at least liked to think that he did.
“No-“ The polite smile returned. “-she told me.”
Disappointment laced the answer, and the hollow void inside of Fuji filled with guilt once again for reasons that he didn’t wish to acknowledge.
“How is Inui? And that other friend-Kajimoto?”
Fuji’s eyes skirted the tables in front of the windows, for even if they were obscured by Taka’s form, Fuji knew who would be sitting there, talking and laughing as if nothing in the world were wrong.
“They’re both…fine,” Fuji started. “Inui did end up getting a job in the castle because of his cousin, and Kajimoto is still around. I…haven’t stayed in much contact with him.” Doesn’t that sound familiar?
When Taka didn’t immediately answer, Fuji gathered enough courage to finally look at him. The other man, however, was no longer facing him, instead finding a fascinating diversion with his hands.
“Would you like to sit?” Fuji tried. Anything to make this conversation less awkward…
A sudden, vehement shake of the head was punctuated with a strong refusal which even Taka realized sounded far too strong. His polite smile returned as his usual shield, but its strength was betrayed by a tremble. “Sorry, I need to return to work.”
Fuji’s hand shot out to grab the other’s arm. “Please….Taka.” His voice was barely above a whisper, his normally calm eyes pleading.
However inclined he may have been to further refuse, Taka released the fiery spirit in a sigh, and without another word, he sat down beside Fuji. “The first time you have ever visited in six years is when you have come to search for someone else,” Taka stated, his voice mildly shaking with dejection.
“I frequently wrote.” Fuji closed his eyes. “You could have replied.”
A chuckle-so dreadfully out of place-escaped the taller man. “Then we were both childish, I suppose.”
A glance to his side revealed to Fuji that he wasn’t the only one fascinated with those empty, empty tables. “Does an apology mean anything?”
“I would hope so.”
“Then I could say that I’m sorry, and you wouldn’t be offended?” Offended that Fuji had returned for the sake of his princess-his newfound loyalty? Or offended that he came to Rokkaku only by chance, not for his family?
Taka smiled shakily. Both of them looked at those tables, neither saying a word. Fuji began to wonder if he had been too presumptuous, but when Taka offered his hand for a handshake, in unshakable camaraderie, the slender brunette was reassured.
Though part of him was not surprised as he looked once more at those empty tables under the large, inviting windows.
“You don’t have to leave Rikkaidai.”
“My parents are dead; Yuuta’s run away. My sister is married and settled. What would I stay for?”
“…Do I have to answer that?”
“Hm, why not? You might convince me.” He had been sarcastic.
The kiss had been a surprise. With the two boys at such young, inexperienced ages, it was more of an awkward collision than any sign of affection or intimacy. It ended as abruptly as it began, and the taller boy’s flushed face turned away.
His voice was uncharacteristically quiet. “Go then, if that is what you truly want.”
When Taka walked away, Fuji just stared dumbfounded. And he did leave his home, but he never was sure if that had been truly what he wanted.
...
“I would rather be force-fed cactus needles than be subjected to such an awkward union.”
Laughter burst from An at the brutally straightforward comment.
“It’s not that funny, An,” Tachibana tried to say seriously, although his sister’s hysterics was infecting him with his own unwanted smile.
Catching her breath, An still didn’t lose the amusement in her pretty face. “If the marriage-treaty is really so cumbersome, just tell the queen you don’t want it.”
Tachibana's shoulders fell a little. “That would be the most obvious solution, wouldn’t it? However, you have hardly seen her, and she is,” his voice trailed; searching for the right word, he tried again, “She is…gods, this is why we went to war with Seigaku in the first place.”
An’s smile became more sympathetic as she watched her brother rest his head in his hands. “I could talk to Ryoma for you.”
“You’ve become rather attached to him, haven’t you?”
“Is that bad?”
He snorted. “You know the answer to that as well as I do.”
An shared a glance with Kamio who was standing quietly beside her. Sharing her smile, he blushed slightly.
With one eye following the interaction, Tachibana feigned a scowl. “Now what are you two schemers hiding from me?”
An put up an adorably innocent smile; “Frowns cause wrinkles, Kippei.”
Everyone laughed at this, considerably lightening the mood despite everyone’s recent frustrations at Seigaku. Shinji entered the room at this time, unintentionally bringing an air of trepidation.
“The queen wants an audience, Tachibana. The prince will be there, too. She was upset. I could tell. I hate it when people give fake smiles because they’re always so obvious. The prince wasn’t faking anything. He looked upset. She didn’t say what she wanted to talk to you about, but it was obviously serious because everyone was upset. The scribe was there, too, but he never talks. He is so annoying how he never pays attention to anything around him, always ignoring everyone else. Why does he even have to be there? But I think she wanted you to come soon. Whatever she is upset about must be-“
“Of course,” Tachibana cut in as graciously as he could; “We shouldn’t keep Her Highness waiting.”
Not needing to be invited as her brother naturally expected her to follow, An trippingly followed behind him. Kamio and Shinji were asked to stay behind which they both complied to a bit begrudgingly. Now, at the door of the meeting room, noise met their ears-shouting and crashing. Well, Shinji had referred to the group being “upset,” so upon hearing the uproar through the door, the Tachibana siblings hesitated. When they finally opened the door, the sight that met them was somewhat disconcerting.
Holding a large, metal platter in front of his face, Ryoma stood in a mess of broken glass and china; he was nearest to the door. The queen stood across the room with a large bowl poised in her upraised hands, a bowl apparently taken from the now sparsely set table before her. However, her face had paled and her actions paused as she now stared at the newcomers. Instantly, she handed the bowl to Tezuka who was sitting at the table, and replaced the ferocious scowl that had been on her face moments ago with the expected, strained smile.
“Ah, Lord Tachibana, I’m glad that you were available for the moment.” Despite the outwardly delighted greeting, her old voice was wavering.
When Tachibana then stepped forward to the queen to inquire what she wished to meet about, An slipped over to Ryoma who, though he stopped using the platter as a type of impromptu shield, still looked thoroughly miffed.
“And this is about?” An asked curiously as she stooped to pick up a large piece of green glass which suspiciously resembled some of the intact goblets from the table.
“Oh, you can’t tell?” Ryoma said in a fake, cheery voice; then with a more dry voice, “At least you arrived before she started throwing weapons.”
An’s smile faltered as she first noticed the impressive array of swords and spears on the back wall behind Tezuka and the queen.
The two of them returned their attention to the queen whose poorly concealed distress was dripping from every word she stuttered to Tachibana. “I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience, Lord Tachibana. I am sure that my granddaughter is near, but she has determined to not be found.”
An breathed in sharply and caught Ryoma’s glance. Worried more for Ryoma’s sake than for the situation, she wondered how many details the queen was aware of. The tension in the room became suffocating so that it was rather comical when Tachibana was the most relieved of them all.
“It is really not necessary, Your Highness,” he began hopefully, “that you search so incessantly for the princess.”
“But I insist!” the queen burst forth.
Before she could continue into another tirade of treaties and patriotism, Tachibana swiftly exerted that the princess’s feelings toward the marriage were quite akin to his own. The revelation struck the queen dumb, whereas everyone else in the room wondered why it had taken so long for this to come about. When the queen regained her courtly gait, she again tried to speak up only to again be interrupted.
“Good god, grandmother.” Ryoma’s voice wavered with his now uncontained annoyance. “Can you not just accept that it is not a heaven-made match?”
An held her breath a little as she silently thanked Ryoma for his outburst. She had thought for the longest time that it was his right as the prince to take over sooner or later. However, the queen’s stare turned icy as she regarded her grandson.
“I am doing what I believe is best for this kingdom.”
“Obviously what you believe is not right.”
The queen was silenced again in her anger. Watching the muscles in his neck contract, An was fascinated by the sudden change in Ryoma.
The prince continued, “We went to war with their colony, but they defeated us. They are the rightful victors, and they have the right to set the standards of the treaty. So give them a treaty, give them their rights, and let them be!”
Resignation was set into the lines of the haggard woman before all of them, and she released a defeated sigh. “Sometimes, you are too much like your father, Ryoma.”
An just now noticed that her brother had slipped beside her again. She looked up to him; the intensity of the room had reached a level-a family dispute-that seemed inappropriate for them to witness. Still, her gaze returned to the prince’s straight back, noticing how his left hand would clench and unclench repeatedly.
“Well, my father is dead, isn’t he?” Ryoma swayed slightly in his agitation so that when his head moved a little as to meet An’s gaze, she partly wondered if that was mere chance or not. “In moments like these, recovery even from a war is a luxury, and it is time that I take my place as the new king.”
The mood of the room grew still following the uttered words. Everyone was silent, fearing to break the hush even with a breath of air; even Tezuka who had been faithfully recording the informal meeting had paused the scratching of his quill to risk a glance at the prince who was still shaking in his frustration. Again, his head moved in such a way that An could see his expression, and she realized that it was not accidental this time. So many thoughts were blurring in his golden eyes that she felt pity welling inside of her. When he looked away, the feeling remained, and she released a sigh. A brief touch on her shoulder caused her to look at Tachibana who, she realized with a certain measure of embarrassment, had witnessed the interaction between herself and the prince.
There is too much to explain, Kippei, she thought, as though her brother could read her mind. There is too much happening that I cannot think clearly myself.
“And your sister?” The queen sounded tired more than anything.
An could not help but stare at the clenched fist of the prince as he replied shortly, almost inaudibly, with a trace of uncertainty that An could never be sure was heard by anyone, if not everyone.
“She…is in good hands.”
Certainly, that is what they all hoped.
...
The cadent caress of the wind carried the scent of the ocean in it as it danced across the dimming twilight sky. Even as the day traveled farther away, the castle seemed to come to life with lights flickering and gleaming in the windows, and the whispers echoing out into the evening air seeped into the crevices of the castle, into the very stonework.
She is gone? She is gone. Where did she go? No one knows. Her tutor is also missing? Yes, he, too. How will they be found?
“So, the runaways have been discovered,” Inui murmured to himself. Looking down from his usual perch at the small crowd of five persons, he only half-listened to the shared conversations.
“I can’t believe she would try it,” Momoshiro mentioned, disbelief drawn across every inch of his face.
“Why would she leave? Wasn’t the marriage supposed to be a good thing?” Horio demanded-expectedly-without an ounce of tact.
Momoshiro raised an eyebrow at Horio. “Supposed to doesn’t mean it was.”
Quiet until this point, Katsuo said wonderingly, “She never seemed like the type who would run away.”
At this comment, Kaidoh-who had also remained mute-looked up at Inui briefly. Inui smirked a little and jumped down from the wall.
“That she did, Katsuo,” Inui responded to the gardener’s shared thought, startling Katsuo as to why one of the guards would know his name. “However, people will go to drastic measures when they’ve been cornered.”
“Sure, but that doesn’t explain why she did it,” Horio whined.
Standing beside his fellow page, Kachiro fidgeted. Putting voice to what everyone else had already thought, he mumbled, “Maybe she felt that she was marrying the enemy or something.”
“Wha-it’s not like he wanted to kill her!” Horio floundered.
“Horio, don’t be stupid,” Momoshiro chided.
“At the very least,” Inui said with a smile unable to be interpreted, “we have the comfort of knowing the princess is escorted by her tutor.”
Kachiro fidgeted again-a little more noticeable than before, and Inui’s sharp eyes caught the movement. “Kachiro?”
The small boy visibly shrank under the guard’s question, as though what he was about to reveal was personally his own fault. “Well…there was a message…from Fuji.”
Inui’s interest was peaked; he likewise sensed a shift beside him, presumably Kaidoh moving toward him. However, his attention was secured entirely upon Kachiro, and when the boy hesitated, he encouraged him.
“Was this message for the prince?”
“Y-yes,” Kachiro, despite his stuttering, did not stop; “Fuji lost the princess.”
A chill dampened the once temperate air. Inui thoughtfully pushed on his glasses, as this was disclosed to him. Lost? Without commanding the muscles around his mouth, he felt a smirk growing. What an interesting twist.
“H-hey, what’s going on?” Horio demanded.
Inui looked over the loud page and spoke instead to Momoshiro who was also beholding this unusual exchange with confusion. “Momoshiro, tell Arai that I need him to cover my post tonight.”
Thinking it better than to ask, Momoshiro nodded shortly. “Sure.”
As Momoshiro then left to find Arai, Kachiro grabbed Horio’s arm as well as Katsuo’s before the loudest of the boys could squawk about being previously ignored. “We should go back inside now before we get in trouble,” he spoke hurriedly, an element of guilt or perhaps apprehension written into his jerky movements.
“Thank you, Kachiro,” Inui called out to the quickly disappearing group of boys, smiling when he received a wave in response before the hand was used again to restrain the loudly protesting Horio.
Kaidoh silently watched his senior who was now climbing back onto the wall before he willed himself enough to speak. “What do you think will happen, Inui?”
Inui was facing the blood-red sky, watching the dark lines of purple clouds in the horizon churning in the ocean wind. He finally looked back at Kaidoh who remained in the shadow of the wall.
“Care to go on a trip with me, Kaidoh?”
Thus begins the game of cat and mouse.
...
If ever there were a time when Sanada felt the need to grow multiple pairs of eyes in the back of his head, it was today. Every time he heard a yelp or the thump of someone falling, his head would snap in that direction only to discover that Tetsuya had only dropped some of his load, tripped over a tall root, or bumped into another worker. He knew that his muscles would ache after today, more because of how tense he had been rather than the physical labor which he was already quite accustomed to. Hearing the snap of a stick and a subsequent squeak, he could fully predict the scene before he looked, and therefore, his glance was rather slothful. Having finally learned to catch himself, Tetsuya was only on his knees and was clumsily grabbing up the sticks that had fallen from his arm. Watching as Muromachi went over to help the slender boy back onto his feet, Sanada stretched his arms. He determined to not be distracted yet again by the newcomer when the day’s work at the logging site was almost done.
“Get Taichi and Tetsuya to clear the remaining brush,” Sanada ordered Niou.
“Yes, sir.” Niou was prompt in issuing out commands to bring a saw and to clear the felling sight to the other workers, who all seemed to experience a burst of energy during the last few minutes on the job.
Sanada approached the man standing beside a wagon laden with freshly cut logs. Serenely waiting, he was to take the wood back to the miller for whom he worked.
“This is the last one, Mr. Higashikata,” Sanada politely informed the tall man. “I apologize that we didn’t have your employer’s quota filled earlier.”
Higashikata smiled congenially. “That’s alright, Mr. Sanada. It wouldn’t hurt my boss if he learned a little bit of patience.”
His ear twitching at the sound of Niou yelling at someone angrily, Sanada returned the visiting man’s smile with a curt nod. The lateness of the hour tiring the senses of the usually alert man, his ears sluggishly picked up shreds of words that ricocheted off of the trees surrounding him, but the most ominous of all sounds slithered through the noise-the nearly imperceptible crack of a branch.
Time stopped in that moment, and his feet remained immobile-unable to lift themselves into a run or even a startled flinch. Sanada saw the branch swaying as Akaya climbed down from the tree; he could already envision its falling. He felt himself nearing the tree, but he knew not when he had regained control over his movement-though control hardly described the numbed sensations running through his limbs. The cracked wood was falling now, and through his deafened hearing, he noticed a shout of an order or the snap of a curse. All he could see was the falling tangle of wood; the two smallest members of their crew lay directly in its path. An arm had already dragged Taichi from the targeted slot of ground, but Sanada’s own reach grazed the leafed branches of the large limb as it landed on top of Tetsuya. The dulled panic finally awoke.
“Dammit!”
“Akaya, you idiot!”
“Where’s Tetsuya, please?!”
“Muromachi, Akutsu, on the other side, now!”
“Oh, god, what do you need?”
The voices all clashed onto Sanada’s sore ears as he and the other workers hastily lifted the large branch up. Once it was high enough, he stooped to the ground to tug Tetsuya out from under the sharp pile of sticks; however, Niou being right beside him, the silver-haired man scooped up the small, unconscious form into his arms. Troubled by seeing the boy’s feminine face drained of its color, Sanada hardly knew how to react.
“I’ll take him to Ojii,” he heard a voice from inside of him say.
Niou looked skeptical. “Tetsuya needs a doctor, but there is no way you are taking him alone.”
At the mention of any such weakness, Sanada’s reaction was to glare, but Niou remained unconvinced as he instead handed the limp body to Akutsu.
“I’m perfectly capable, Niou,” he snapped.
“Not on four hours of sleep, you’re not,” the shorter man shot back. “God, why did you even work today?”
However, resistant to any further argument or scene before the lesser workers, Niou stepped forward and with a hand placed on Sanada’s shoulder, he murmured in a voice devoid of any of his usual lightheartedness, “If you feel so responsible, just go with Akutsu. I can finish the order for Higashikata.”
Sanada’s shoulders slumped slightly, but the encouragement received from Niou’s friendly pat helped lessen the great burden of incompetence that threatened to overwhelm him at the moment.
“Alright,” he murmured.
Niou grinned. “I expect that you’ll be lecturing me about this later?”
Sanada frowned at the comment which only served to brighten Niou’s smile. “Just finish the job, Niou.”
“Aye, sir!” Niou ran back to the other workers. “Oi, Akaya, you’re sawing this one by yourself.”
Sanada turned away just as protests came from the said Akaya which were quickly rebuffed by the reminder that it had been the boy’s lack of attention that had caused the fallen branch. Sanada just shook his head at the sheer immaturity of his fellow manager, but then, he reminded himself that Niou was reliable. With only a nod directed to Akutsu, having discovered years before that neither of them were sanguine conversationalists, Sanada set off down the road with Akutsu close behind him.
Never before had the journey to town seemed so long or so treacherous, but each step resounded in his mind as though it were a last walk to an execution. Rubbing his fingers tiredly over his eyelids, though, reminded him of his lethargic state, so Sanada kept their pace brisk. Perhaps his heavy footfalls would better be described as parallel to the insubstantial anti-presence of dreams; he watched his feet as he stepped over rocks, was somewhat cognizant of reaching the outer walls of Yamabuki, and could see the late evening workers communing, but his tired eyes most often sought the pallor of Tetsuya’s face. It took all willpower inside of Sanada to not blame himself for the boy’s injury, for not protecting such an untried foundling.
Following what had felt like years of travel, Sanada and the laden Akutsu finally came upon a small, brown bungalow which was so tipped that it appeared to be either threatening or nurturing the flora surrounding its southward side. Tending to the mismatched patterns of colors, ferns, and small tress was a hunched man whose long, willowy beard brushed against the ground as he handled each plant with a delicate hand. Ojii, the seemingly immortal doctor of Yamabuki, was content in his own world, an unsure hum in his throat starting only to again stop as he worked.
Politely but still quickly, Sanada approached the old man. “Ojii, can you help us?”
“Hmmm…?” Ojii squinted his eyes at the large man before him. One wrinkled hand came to rest thoughtfully upon his beard as he stood there, seemingly inspecting the two men. Then his hand lifted again with only a slight waver as he pointed to Sanada; “Your eyes are red.”
Sanada started. That’s not what I meant. “Ojii, it’s not me. Can you help him? He was injured at one of my logging sites.” He then gestured to the slender form of Tetsuya who still lay comatose Akutsu’s arms.
Another noise lifted from the back of Ojii’s throat as he placed each of his steps carefully to the other tall man. Entirely nonplussed by the intimidating gait of the man before him, his long, bony fingers gently prodded Tetsuya’s face and then arms. He nodded slowly and then retreated into the cottage. Akutsu shot a look to Sanada who just told him to take Tetsuya inside.
With the presence of Ojii as well as the sharp gaze of Akutsu gone, Sanada’s feet dragged him to the bench beside the front door which he dropped himself upon. All of this was taking far too large of a toll on him. He cursed himself for allowing his new worker to injure himself the first day of the job, but perhaps it disturbed him this much only due to the already mounting pile of duties that awaited every evening in town. He had been looking forward to this night as it would be a reprieve from the others, but instead here he sat at Ojii’s on the behalf of an injured Tetsuya.
Sleep being a threatening presence looming about him, Sanada stared at the reddening streaks of light that painted the tips of the trees before him, dreamily musing to himself how Ojii’s cottage had a nice view of the sunset. He shifted a little from his slumped posture when Akutsu joined him outside; the other man, however, did not sit down but rather leaned against the wall and lit a rolled paper of tobacco with a match.
Does he always carry cigarettes with him? Sanada wondered distractedly, feeling his eyes sliding shut. As long as he doesn’t smoke during work, does it matter?
The thought of the cut trees exploding into flame fascinated his mind as his breathing deepened, and the scent of the lusty mountain air lulled him. It was only the nudging on his shoulder that split the reverie, and he sat up rather abruptly, realizing with mild chagrin that he had been dozing. The corners of his eyes picked up on the grayness of the sky, the passage of time portrayed in the deadened mixture yellows and grays that graced the cloudless atmosphere. The awakening hand had since pulled back, its owner being revealed as Ojii.
“Tetsuya-how is he?”
Ojii's hands again moved to his head in slow precision as each word meticulously tasted and pronounced left his lips; “She is fine. She just needs rest.”
Sanada relaxed. “Just bruising, I take it? Any sprains?”
Ojii blinked and then shook his head. Returning to his feet, Sanada thanked the doctor and asked him what he would charge for the care when he realized that Akutsu was missing.
“Mr. Sanada.” The words slithered from the open door of the cottage where Akutsu had suddenly made his appearance. His ashen face looked…paler, somehow.
Without waiting for any further statement, Sanada straightened and informed his worker that he was thankful for Akutsu’s assistance but that he himself could take the boy home.
“That’s the problem,” Akutsu muttered, eyes staring blankly at Sanada. “Tetsuya’s a girl.”
Sanada felt a dead weight hit the bottom of his stomach.
“Ahhhh,” Ojii sighed the words; “I didn’t know you hired women, Sanada.”
Something twitched on Sanada’s face, and as he rigidly slipped past Akutsu into the house to discover what had been a mere boy hours ago, now stripped to an undershirt for the necessity of treating bruises, he knew he was angry. At whom and for what, he couldn’t discern. But as he unwillingly took in the picture of that slender body with the extra curves in a place that he knew-he knew-boys never had, his mind was trembling beyond coherent thought.
He unwillingly heard the explanation from Akutsu to Ojii who both still occupied the doorway; “Apparently, Sanada didn’t know either.”
CHAPTER SIX - END
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