[Fanfic] Purification
Title: Purification ~淨化~
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: Yukimura x Yanagi
Rating: PG-13
Summary: AU. If he was buried under this snow, then perhaps he would be cleansed of all of his contamination from the past.
Notes: 温柔强攻, 淡泊隱忍受, BE
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.
A/N: Happy belated birthday, Yanagi-san~ Anyways, this fic bears resemblance to Hana no Bokutachi. If this displeases you, please head back now. Thank you.
NOTES: AU. Character death. Prostitution. Alternating POVs.
Please put on the Yoshida Brothers' "Fuyu no Sakura" when you read this.
To ChitoseSenri, the ultimate Yanagi fanatic. This is for you, friend. I wish you the best of luck in everything~
Purification
~淨化~
He met the other during winter. Though, the meeting itself had not been formal.
Neither of them introduced themselves to each other.
It was snowing that day. The white flakes descended from the gray skies, their infinite numbers like the stars in the night sky.
A thin layer of white covered the narrow paved road. He did not hear his wood getas (1) click upon the hard surface as he strolled. The soft sound of crunching snow replaced that.
He was on his way home. His guardian accompanied him.
That was when the other walked by slowly, carefully, his face hidden under his bright paper umbrella.
The striking red color of his umbrella served as a great contrast against the colorless world. It was one of the first things he noticed about him when the two of them crossed paths leaving in opposite directions.
The eye-catching red umbrella, however, was not enough to make an engraving deep enough in his memory to last more than a few moments. The other would have just been like the footprints he left upon the snow. Sooner or later, the falling flakes would have obscured such tracks and no one would be able to prove they once existed.
He would have just dismissed him as another passerby, if it had not been for something else.
As they brushed sleeves passing one another, his nostrils caught a faint scent.
The warm, misty scent that contradicted the cold winter. The subtle scent that fitted the purity of the snowflakes. The scent of the lotus blossom, blooming only in the hot season of summer.
It was due to such idiosyncrasy that he was able to recall their first informal encounter in the future.
He stopped. The passerby, he thought, did not belong here, did not belong to the winter day, did not belong to the snowy setting, as much as his plain attire and mild mannerism harmonized with his surroundings.
When he stopped, the other halted too. Facing him, the passerby offered a quiet apology, then turned to continue on his way deliberately.
The other must have thought he had threatened his personal space, he presumed.
In the end, the snow fell like satin curtains disguising the other's departure. The other's white kimono blended in with the scenery.
His gaze remained in his direction until the passerby disappeared completely from view.
His guardian had to remind him to resume his travel.
…
He left his dreams from the previous night upon the futon once he awoke, greeted by the morning sunlight.
Similarly, he left behind memories of strangers' faces once he departed from the streets he picked them up at.
He had more important matters to attend to than to spare time for trivial thoughts.
That passerby he encountered on that certain snowy day would have been a fleeting memory he dismissed...
...if they did not meet once more.
Spring.
The snows of winter melted away to precious waters distributing vitality among the hibernating plants and blossoms.
March.
The event of his birthday as Yukimura Seiichi, the head of one of the wealthiest families in town, was as grand and splendid as the Spring Festival in town.
During his birthday celebration, the familiar face became the performer of one of the main attractions arranged as entertainment for his guests and him.
The other's once plain kimono was dyed the bright colors of festive celebration. He almost did not recognize him if it were not for the other's tepid attitude and distinguishing scent.
It became a fragrance as intoxicating as the expensive wine he served when it united with the sweet aroma of young cherry blossoms.
Though, as flawless as his musical and dance performances were, he could not help but adhere to his previous belief. Such a setting, like that day's winter scenery, did not suit the other well enough.
Here, in the clamorous music and the seemingly harmless laughter and conversation, people formed covert alliances and held secret grudges. They were all driven by their own dark desires.
This was no place for him to be. The filth of society would surely contaminate his clean aura.
At last, he, with his unique scent, became a birthday gift presented to him by one of his guests.
That was when he discovered the other's identity. He was a kagema (2).
Kagema. Those were the people the world looked down upon. They were men stripped of their masculinity. Yet, they could not be defined as women, for their physique defied such a definition.
They were like the female prostitutes, for they were also pleasure providers. But even the female prostitutes despised them, for the danshou (3) were paid a higher sum for their services than female prostitutes of the same rank.
He snorted inwardly, scorning the man who was attempting to bribe him with such a favor.
Nevertheless, heightened interest seduced him into acceptance of this gift.
The other's aloofness remained unfaltering even as the servants and maids led him away to reassemble his attire for the night.
…
Red, like the camellia blossoming in determination in the cold snows of winter-that was the first analogy he made when he entered the room, and saw the other kneeling properly upon the prepared futon.
The crimson yukata made the other stand out from his dull surroundings.
He slid the door shut before approaching him, his feet echoing the sound of silence upon the tatami mats.
"You will be disappointed." When the other spoke, it was not of introduction.
Or perhaps, it was an introduction in its own strange way. He found it amusing that the other's first words to him already revealed so much of himself.
"Oh, is that so?" He said.
"This is not my first time."
The corner of the other's lips rose to a knowing smile. It was at a chilling angle.
"Your subordinate had been cheated in his purchase (4). I am tainted already. I have been tainted countless of times." He said plainly, as if explaining an impersonal truth. He had already detached himself.
The other said his body was tainted, Seiichi pondered. Yet, why did looking into his eyes feel so much like looking into a natural spring, where the water was so clean that it appeared nonexistent?
Perhaps, the other was only vainly attempting to preserve that last bit of dignity he still had left.
Seiichi respected that.
"Good night." He offered the other a smile of reassurance. Then, he pivoted around and exited, sliding the paper door close softly behind him.
...
The structure of intimate companionship was built upon one meeting at a time, one conversation at a time.
When the other received his clear message of having no intention of bedding him, he slowly let down his guard.
With time, the other became easier to approach.
With time, greetings and salutations evolved into invitations to further conversation instead of the rigid formality that they were.
Once the foundation of their relationship was laid out, the construction of their actual relationship became the daily discoveries they made of each other's characters.
Seiichi discovered the other's hobbies of reading and practicing on musical instruments. He observed the other's habit of standing at the veranda, being audience to the performance the seasons brought to the garden, witnessing the vibrant colors progressed through the everlasting cycle of life and death.
What was he trying to forget? What was he trying to remember?
The other would have been an easy target to read, to analyze, to dissect, if it had not been the eyelids that shielded him from his examination.
Sooner or later, when he decided that he knew enough about the other to place trust him, he began confiding in him of his family's internal affairs. He went as far as requesting his own personal opinions.
At that point, Renji would pause, contemplate, and offer his insight on the issues presented to him.
His shrewdness many times impressed him so much that sought the other's suggestions as valuable advice time after time.
Unfortunately, the wisdom that brought his admiration also drew attention to Renji's short-coming. It became the accentuation that pointed out the other's current status as a lowly kagema.
It was truly a disappointment.
…
Eventually, their closeness drew the attention of his guardian, who saw their association to be unfitting.
To redirect his focus, Sanada encouraged him to find a suiting wife to produce heirs to continue the family line.
Understanding that such was an inevitable task for someone in his position, he accomplished what was expected of him shortly after, though only half-heartedly.
He thought the whole process of agreeing on a marriage pact between the two families to be an act of irony. He saw the glee and joy in his fiancée's eyes as she naively believed that it had been something special about her that convinced him to agree to the arrangement. While, in reality, her name and her appearance became objects his mind immediately abandoned when he saw her family out the front gate.
He paid his companion a visit, following.
The other looked up from the book he was reading at hand upon his arrival. Nodding once to acknowledge his entrance, he turned back to the page.
Renji's serene composure was impeccable. He cannot help but wonder if his mischief will be able to penetrate through such a thick natural defense.
Unhurriedly, he walked up to the other. He sank down slowly beside him.
"So, what are your thoughts on my soon-to-be marriage?"
"Why do you pose such a question to me, of all people?" The other fought his question with questions of his own. "Have you posed the same question to yourself?"
"I have. And I have also asked myself the meaning of an indifferent marriage union."
"It is your duty."
"You sound just like Genichirou." He smirked.
Secretly, he wished that he could have provoked more of a response from him.
Then, he would know of the other's feelings toward him. In the time he spent acquainting with him, he felt a certain strong emotion grow with their bond.
Jealousy.
He was jealous of the man who first possessed the other. He was jealous of the ones who followed afterwards. And he wanted to know, if the other would feel the same way if he were to be possessed by another.
…
In the days following, Seiichi busied himself with preparations for the wedding ceremony.
Since he had no time to visit Renji, he sent his guardian in his place to see to the other's needs.
Doing so however, he failed to take into account the prejudice the man held against the other. It did not matter that he was intelligent or well-composed. The fact that he was a kagema, someone who betrayed his dignity selling himself to other men, stood towering over all his qualities.
Renji knew of the aversion Seiichi's guardian had for him. He, however, still remained polite and courteous and offered him tea each time the other came to visit him.
Sanada refused his hospitality, rejected his benign intentions, regardless.
If only his detestable status could be discarded as easily as turning his back to it…
...
Winter.
In the garden, the presentation of perpetual life and death halted at a short intermission. The sky wove a thick blanket of snow for the performers to sleep under to await their glorious return in spring.
That day, Renji did not give him a chance to decline his offer as he always had.
"Come. It is best for you to be under shelter so you do not catch a cold."
After much hesitation and reluctance, Sanada obliged.
Unexpectedly, it turned out that he had enough tolerance than he credited himself for as he sat before the other. He watched as the other proceeded with the tea ceremony.
Upon observation, he was surprised of the amount of grace in the other's refined movements. What puzzled him even more was the final frothy concoction the other produced.
He bowed his gratitude courteously before lifting the bowl tentatively to his lips.
When he drank, he remembered the lesson his father has included in their tea tasting session in the past. The final product should not only yield the quality of the tea, but also the character of its maker.
In the first sip, he tasted wisdom. Second, sincerity. Third, dignity... The fresh scent of summer lotus blossoms enticed him in his final sip. It told of the other's purity.
When he peered at the other again, he took note of his difference from other kagema in the pleasure quarters.
It is when the other looked away to the scene outside that he realized that he had been staring at the other for quite some time. He scolded himself mentally for his rude display.
Renji excused himself from his seat across from his and rose to walk to the shoji door. He slid the door open to allow the stunning winter scenery to lead him outside.
He followed after him. They stood at veranda admiring the view of an untainted world from under the roof.
"It is truly a magnificent sight..." The other whispered beside him.
He nodded solemnly.
The tranquil understanding that was finally established between them suddenly collapsed when the other released a series of violent coughs. Droplets of crimson essence escape from his mouth and through the gaps of his fingers, staining the white ground. They became the seductive camellias blooming in the snow.
The sight pricked his eyes.
He caught his limp figure in his arms. "Renji!"
...
The incident led to the physician's visit, which only resulted in further predicament.
"It's terminal illness. His organs are deteriorating (5). I apologize. There is nothing I can do."
He knelt beside the other's futon, listening to the physician's explanation intently. He noticed the pallor in his face serving as the mark of a long and troubling life. He shook his head. It was truly a pity.
"How much longer does he have?" He inquired, his eyes refusing to allow the other out of his sight. The other's ghostly appearance made him an easy target of Death's abduction.
"He won't be able to make it past this winter."
What irony. The other was given life in the summer, but he was to return it in the winter time. Fate stole his life, and it decided his death for him as well. It was through the other's circumstances that he comprehended how life was full of ambiguities that slipped from one's control as life itself did.
But, at least the cold would leave Renji with a last bit of mercy; it would preserve his body a bit longer.
Renji stirred in his bed. He looked away quickly, not wanting to get caught staring rudely again.
"The physician was here." It wasn't a question. The other made a statement based on his keen observation.
"Aa."
Silence.
The heaviness between them forced him to dispel it through conversation. Though, he still did not know what to say and where to start. "You..."
Renji interrupted him. "My past is catching up to me."
More silence. This time, he was too perplexed to follow up.
The other did not seem to notice his struggles. Instead, his gaze revisited the colorless world outside. "Sanada-san, do you think if I am buried under this snow, that I will become completely purified?"
Purified, like the world outside appeared to be presently.
...
Many viewed winter as an obstacle, as a storm before the sunshine.
There was endless positivity beyond the darkness and chill.
That was, if one made it through to the end.
Seiichi's wedding would be held in spring, once winter passed. Once the preparation and arrangement of his wedding drew to an end, the leader found his way back his companion's room like a wanderer returning home.
In addition to his company, Renji had prepared warm sake for two. Seiichi watched the same pair of graceful hands that conducted countless tea ceremonies in the past pour the warm rice wine into his porcelain cup.
The other utilized a red sake set tonight that was usually reserved for festive celebrations. Oh, right. His future wedding was something worth rejoicing over, he thought sarcastically.
"Spring... is it?"
Renji's voice called him back to reality. He refocused his attention upon him.
"Your marriage ceremony is in spring."
"Yes. And what of it?" What was the other attempting to convey through his statement of the obvious? Could he not see that he really did not need any more reminders?
"I will not be able to attend your marriage ceremony." The other said, nonchalant.
His eyes darkened. He knew what the other was referring to. "...Renji..."
Then, a surprise declaration came from the other. "It had not been my intention to attend, regardless."
Astonishment froze him in his seat before he touched his lips to the cup. He dropped the cup back onto the table top, smiling mischievously at the other. "May I interpret your haughtiness as your attempt to conceal your jealousy?"
Renji said nothing. His demeanor revealed nothing as usual.
He made no effort to shatter the other's mask. Instead, he launched a new topic into their conversation, dropping the old one as spontaneously as it began. "You never fulfilled your duty." As kagema.
Uncertainty wrinkled the space between Renji's brows.
Seiichi reached over, placing a hand on the collar of his yukata.
Renji's hand shot up immediately, covering his. He spilt his own cup of sake on the table in the process. The liquid ran along the wooden surface to finally find an edge to descend down to the tatami mat like a small waterfall. Neither of them noticed nor cared.
"Stop. You must not."
"Why mustn't I?"
"Why are you asking a question that you already know the answer to?"
"The disease is not stopping me. You are."
"It is for your own good."
"You must think that pleasure is only derived from physical unity. I don't blame you for having such an assumption." He continued to pull at the yukata collar until the material slipped off his shoulders. "But I'm a visual person. And I prefer the appreciation of pleasure through my eyes."
"You will not see anything pleasant."
"That is for me to judge."
He stripped the other completely, letting his dark yukata fall into a pile on the floor. He could see the prominences of his collar bones and ribs on the other's disease-torture body. He scrutinized the pale scars and dark bruises the other's horrific past left on his skin.
He gave him no time to feel humiliated, to feel awkward. Seiichi leaned in to kiss him, kiss his skin.
Then, he embraced him, tightly. Their warmth intertwined.
"I wish your heart was as naked as your body. Then, I would know everything about you."
Every mark. Every scar. Every piece of his feeling and thought.
...
Summer.
The cicadas' passionate song matched the boiling heat of the season.
In the garden, he spotted his master standing near the pond, his eyes cast down as if lost in the reflection of the cloudless sky in the water. He joined him.
It was the second summer since that person's arrival in the household, in his master's life. It had been half a year since his departure, buried in his natural grave under layers and layers of white snow.
The snow disguised him in his entirety as it did during their first encounter. It also shrouded his imperfections, the impurities that person stubbornly insisted that he carried.
"The snow purified him. He doesn't need the winter any longer." His master chuckled. "Then again, he never needed it, anyway, as much as he thought he did."
The other said as he stared into the pond, where a number of white lotuses now grew.
"Summer was his season. He favored this season." The other smiled. "That is why, he is here now."
He knew what his master was referring to.
Renji was not physically with them. But the scent of the white lotus that matched the other's scent told of his presence. Renji was here, because summer was his season.
He agreed, as much as winter had suited the other's calm demeanor and purity, as much as the other's crimson essence of life blossoming in the snow rivaled the brilliance of the camellia flowers, winter still did not truly suit the other.
Yes, winter did not fit the other. Winter was too cold. It was as cruel and harsh as all the crude men who have ruined him in the past.
End Notes:
(1) getas - A kind of sandal with an elevated wooden base held onto the feet with a fabric thong passing between the first and second toe. They are worn with traditional Japanese clothing.
(2) kagema - young male prostitutes
(3) danshou (男娼) - male prostitute
(4) Like any prostitute, the kagema were especially valued for their "first time."
(5) Complications of certain STDs.
I made a lot of references to flowers. In the past, the courtesans were said to live in their own little "Flower and Willow World."
Ironically, the only way one can be truly cleansed of his past is through death. While the title refers to Yanagi's physical purification, it was also meant to refer to the romance that Yanagi eventually becomes a part of. Because everything of his past had been "physical" and "contaminated", it is through Yukimura's sincere care for him that he is purified.
There is a reason why this piece is set during the winter. The snow that serves as a purifier, also serves as a blanket to mysteries. Such mysteries include Yanagi's past (which was not really uncovered in here), Sanada's ambivalence towards Yanagi and also Yukimura's relationship with Yanagi. Now, it would have been easy for me to elaborate on such mysteries. But that would have been at the sacrifice of the subtleties in the story, which is the priority preservation in this piece.
Yanagi is actually just "Renji" in here. He has no family name.
Finally, I really hope people don't remember me as "the author obsessed with killing off her characters." So, I will make a promise. This will be my final character death fic (Paper Doll doesn't count). And, if I break this promise...
...I will just come back to delete this promise (XD). (runs away)
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: Yukimura x Yanagi
Rating: PG-13
Summary: AU. If he was buried under this snow, then perhaps he would be cleansed of all of his contamination from the past.
Notes: 温柔强攻, 淡泊隱忍受, BE
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.
A/N: Happy belated birthday, Yanagi-san~ Anyways, this fic bears resemblance to Hana no Bokutachi. If this displeases you, please head back now. Thank you.
NOTES: AU. Character death. Prostitution. Alternating POVs.
Please put on the Yoshida Brothers' "Fuyu no Sakura" when you read this.
To ChitoseSenri, the ultimate Yanagi fanatic. This is for you, friend. I wish you the best of luck in everything~
Purification
~淨化~
He met the other during winter. Though, the meeting itself had not been formal.
Neither of them introduced themselves to each other.
It was snowing that day. The white flakes descended from the gray skies, their infinite numbers like the stars in the night sky.
A thin layer of white covered the narrow paved road. He did not hear his wood getas (1) click upon the hard surface as he strolled. The soft sound of crunching snow replaced that.
He was on his way home. His guardian accompanied him.
That was when the other walked by slowly, carefully, his face hidden under his bright paper umbrella.
The striking red color of his umbrella served as a great contrast against the colorless world. It was one of the first things he noticed about him when the two of them crossed paths leaving in opposite directions.
The eye-catching red umbrella, however, was not enough to make an engraving deep enough in his memory to last more than a few moments. The other would have just been like the footprints he left upon the snow. Sooner or later, the falling flakes would have obscured such tracks and no one would be able to prove they once existed.
He would have just dismissed him as another passerby, if it had not been for something else.
As they brushed sleeves passing one another, his nostrils caught a faint scent.
The warm, misty scent that contradicted the cold winter. The subtle scent that fitted the purity of the snowflakes. The scent of the lotus blossom, blooming only in the hot season of summer.
It was due to such idiosyncrasy that he was able to recall their first informal encounter in the future.
He stopped. The passerby, he thought, did not belong here, did not belong to the winter day, did not belong to the snowy setting, as much as his plain attire and mild mannerism harmonized with his surroundings.
When he stopped, the other halted too. Facing him, the passerby offered a quiet apology, then turned to continue on his way deliberately.
The other must have thought he had threatened his personal space, he presumed.
In the end, the snow fell like satin curtains disguising the other's departure. The other's white kimono blended in with the scenery.
His gaze remained in his direction until the passerby disappeared completely from view.
His guardian had to remind him to resume his travel.
…
He left his dreams from the previous night upon the futon once he awoke, greeted by the morning sunlight.
Similarly, he left behind memories of strangers' faces once he departed from the streets he picked them up at.
He had more important matters to attend to than to spare time for trivial thoughts.
That passerby he encountered on that certain snowy day would have been a fleeting memory he dismissed...
...if they did not meet once more.
Spring.
The snows of winter melted away to precious waters distributing vitality among the hibernating plants and blossoms.
March.
The event of his birthday as Yukimura Seiichi, the head of one of the wealthiest families in town, was as grand and splendid as the Spring Festival in town.
During his birthday celebration, the familiar face became the performer of one of the main attractions arranged as entertainment for his guests and him.
The other's once plain kimono was dyed the bright colors of festive celebration. He almost did not recognize him if it were not for the other's tepid attitude and distinguishing scent.
It became a fragrance as intoxicating as the expensive wine he served when it united with the sweet aroma of young cherry blossoms.
Though, as flawless as his musical and dance performances were, he could not help but adhere to his previous belief. Such a setting, like that day's winter scenery, did not suit the other well enough.
Here, in the clamorous music and the seemingly harmless laughter and conversation, people formed covert alliances and held secret grudges. They were all driven by their own dark desires.
This was no place for him to be. The filth of society would surely contaminate his clean aura.
At last, he, with his unique scent, became a birthday gift presented to him by one of his guests.
That was when he discovered the other's identity. He was a kagema (2).
Kagema. Those were the people the world looked down upon. They were men stripped of their masculinity. Yet, they could not be defined as women, for their physique defied such a definition.
They were like the female prostitutes, for they were also pleasure providers. But even the female prostitutes despised them, for the danshou (3) were paid a higher sum for their services than female prostitutes of the same rank.
He snorted inwardly, scorning the man who was attempting to bribe him with such a favor.
Nevertheless, heightened interest seduced him into acceptance of this gift.
The other's aloofness remained unfaltering even as the servants and maids led him away to reassemble his attire for the night.
…
Red, like the camellia blossoming in determination in the cold snows of winter-that was the first analogy he made when he entered the room, and saw the other kneeling properly upon the prepared futon.
The crimson yukata made the other stand out from his dull surroundings.
He slid the door shut before approaching him, his feet echoing the sound of silence upon the tatami mats.
"You will be disappointed." When the other spoke, it was not of introduction.
Or perhaps, it was an introduction in its own strange way. He found it amusing that the other's first words to him already revealed so much of himself.
"Oh, is that so?" He said.
"This is not my first time."
The corner of the other's lips rose to a knowing smile. It was at a chilling angle.
"Your subordinate had been cheated in his purchase (4). I am tainted already. I have been tainted countless of times." He said plainly, as if explaining an impersonal truth. He had already detached himself.
The other said his body was tainted, Seiichi pondered. Yet, why did looking into his eyes feel so much like looking into a natural spring, where the water was so clean that it appeared nonexistent?
Perhaps, the other was only vainly attempting to preserve that last bit of dignity he still had left.
Seiichi respected that.
"Good night." He offered the other a smile of reassurance. Then, he pivoted around and exited, sliding the paper door close softly behind him.
...
The structure of intimate companionship was built upon one meeting at a time, one conversation at a time.
When the other received his clear message of having no intention of bedding him, he slowly let down his guard.
With time, the other became easier to approach.
With time, greetings and salutations evolved into invitations to further conversation instead of the rigid formality that they were.
Once the foundation of their relationship was laid out, the construction of their actual relationship became the daily discoveries they made of each other's characters.
Seiichi discovered the other's hobbies of reading and practicing on musical instruments. He observed the other's habit of standing at the veranda, being audience to the performance the seasons brought to the garden, witnessing the vibrant colors progressed through the everlasting cycle of life and death.
What was he trying to forget? What was he trying to remember?
The other would have been an easy target to read, to analyze, to dissect, if it had not been the eyelids that shielded him from his examination.
Sooner or later, when he decided that he knew enough about the other to place trust him, he began confiding in him of his family's internal affairs. He went as far as requesting his own personal opinions.
At that point, Renji would pause, contemplate, and offer his insight on the issues presented to him.
His shrewdness many times impressed him so much that sought the other's suggestions as valuable advice time after time.
Unfortunately, the wisdom that brought his admiration also drew attention to Renji's short-coming. It became the accentuation that pointed out the other's current status as a lowly kagema.
It was truly a disappointment.
…
Eventually, their closeness drew the attention of his guardian, who saw their association to be unfitting.
To redirect his focus, Sanada encouraged him to find a suiting wife to produce heirs to continue the family line.
Understanding that such was an inevitable task for someone in his position, he accomplished what was expected of him shortly after, though only half-heartedly.
He thought the whole process of agreeing on a marriage pact between the two families to be an act of irony. He saw the glee and joy in his fiancée's eyes as she naively believed that it had been something special about her that convinced him to agree to the arrangement. While, in reality, her name and her appearance became objects his mind immediately abandoned when he saw her family out the front gate.
He paid his companion a visit, following.
The other looked up from the book he was reading at hand upon his arrival. Nodding once to acknowledge his entrance, he turned back to the page.
Renji's serene composure was impeccable. He cannot help but wonder if his mischief will be able to penetrate through such a thick natural defense.
Unhurriedly, he walked up to the other. He sank down slowly beside him.
"So, what are your thoughts on my soon-to-be marriage?"
"Why do you pose such a question to me, of all people?" The other fought his question with questions of his own. "Have you posed the same question to yourself?"
"I have. And I have also asked myself the meaning of an indifferent marriage union."
"It is your duty."
"You sound just like Genichirou." He smirked.
Secretly, he wished that he could have provoked more of a response from him.
Then, he would know of the other's feelings toward him. In the time he spent acquainting with him, he felt a certain strong emotion grow with their bond.
Jealousy.
He was jealous of the man who first possessed the other. He was jealous of the ones who followed afterwards. And he wanted to know, if the other would feel the same way if he were to be possessed by another.
…
In the days following, Seiichi busied himself with preparations for the wedding ceremony.
Since he had no time to visit Renji, he sent his guardian in his place to see to the other's needs.
Doing so however, he failed to take into account the prejudice the man held against the other. It did not matter that he was intelligent or well-composed. The fact that he was a kagema, someone who betrayed his dignity selling himself to other men, stood towering over all his qualities.
Renji knew of the aversion Seiichi's guardian had for him. He, however, still remained polite and courteous and offered him tea each time the other came to visit him.
Sanada refused his hospitality, rejected his benign intentions, regardless.
If only his detestable status could be discarded as easily as turning his back to it…
...
Winter.
In the garden, the presentation of perpetual life and death halted at a short intermission. The sky wove a thick blanket of snow for the performers to sleep under to await their glorious return in spring.
That day, Renji did not give him a chance to decline his offer as he always had.
"Come. It is best for you to be under shelter so you do not catch a cold."
After much hesitation and reluctance, Sanada obliged.
Unexpectedly, it turned out that he had enough tolerance than he credited himself for as he sat before the other. He watched as the other proceeded with the tea ceremony.
Upon observation, he was surprised of the amount of grace in the other's refined movements. What puzzled him even more was the final frothy concoction the other produced.
He bowed his gratitude courteously before lifting the bowl tentatively to his lips.
When he drank, he remembered the lesson his father has included in their tea tasting session in the past. The final product should not only yield the quality of the tea, but also the character of its maker.
In the first sip, he tasted wisdom. Second, sincerity. Third, dignity... The fresh scent of summer lotus blossoms enticed him in his final sip. It told of the other's purity.
When he peered at the other again, he took note of his difference from other kagema in the pleasure quarters.
It is when the other looked away to the scene outside that he realized that he had been staring at the other for quite some time. He scolded himself mentally for his rude display.
Renji excused himself from his seat across from his and rose to walk to the shoji door. He slid the door open to allow the stunning winter scenery to lead him outside.
He followed after him. They stood at veranda admiring the view of an untainted world from under the roof.
"It is truly a magnificent sight..." The other whispered beside him.
He nodded solemnly.
The tranquil understanding that was finally established between them suddenly collapsed when the other released a series of violent coughs. Droplets of crimson essence escape from his mouth and through the gaps of his fingers, staining the white ground. They became the seductive camellias blooming in the snow.
The sight pricked his eyes.
He caught his limp figure in his arms. "Renji!"
...
The incident led to the physician's visit, which only resulted in further predicament.
"It's terminal illness. His organs are deteriorating (5). I apologize. There is nothing I can do."
He knelt beside the other's futon, listening to the physician's explanation intently. He noticed the pallor in his face serving as the mark of a long and troubling life. He shook his head. It was truly a pity.
"How much longer does he have?" He inquired, his eyes refusing to allow the other out of his sight. The other's ghostly appearance made him an easy target of Death's abduction.
"He won't be able to make it past this winter."
What irony. The other was given life in the summer, but he was to return it in the winter time. Fate stole his life, and it decided his death for him as well. It was through the other's circumstances that he comprehended how life was full of ambiguities that slipped from one's control as life itself did.
But, at least the cold would leave Renji with a last bit of mercy; it would preserve his body a bit longer.
Renji stirred in his bed. He looked away quickly, not wanting to get caught staring rudely again.
"The physician was here." It wasn't a question. The other made a statement based on his keen observation.
"Aa."
Silence.
The heaviness between them forced him to dispel it through conversation. Though, he still did not know what to say and where to start. "You..."
Renji interrupted him. "My past is catching up to me."
More silence. This time, he was too perplexed to follow up.
The other did not seem to notice his struggles. Instead, his gaze revisited the colorless world outside. "Sanada-san, do you think if I am buried under this snow, that I will become completely purified?"
Purified, like the world outside appeared to be presently.
...
Many viewed winter as an obstacle, as a storm before the sunshine.
There was endless positivity beyond the darkness and chill.
That was, if one made it through to the end.
Seiichi's wedding would be held in spring, once winter passed. Once the preparation and arrangement of his wedding drew to an end, the leader found his way back his companion's room like a wanderer returning home.
In addition to his company, Renji had prepared warm sake for two. Seiichi watched the same pair of graceful hands that conducted countless tea ceremonies in the past pour the warm rice wine into his porcelain cup.
The other utilized a red sake set tonight that was usually reserved for festive celebrations. Oh, right. His future wedding was something worth rejoicing over, he thought sarcastically.
"Spring... is it?"
Renji's voice called him back to reality. He refocused his attention upon him.
"Your marriage ceremony is in spring."
"Yes. And what of it?" What was the other attempting to convey through his statement of the obvious? Could he not see that he really did not need any more reminders?
"I will not be able to attend your marriage ceremony." The other said, nonchalant.
His eyes darkened. He knew what the other was referring to. "...Renji..."
Then, a surprise declaration came from the other. "It had not been my intention to attend, regardless."
Astonishment froze him in his seat before he touched his lips to the cup. He dropped the cup back onto the table top, smiling mischievously at the other. "May I interpret your haughtiness as your attempt to conceal your jealousy?"
Renji said nothing. His demeanor revealed nothing as usual.
He made no effort to shatter the other's mask. Instead, he launched a new topic into their conversation, dropping the old one as spontaneously as it began. "You never fulfilled your duty." As kagema.
Uncertainty wrinkled the space between Renji's brows.
Seiichi reached over, placing a hand on the collar of his yukata.
Renji's hand shot up immediately, covering his. He spilt his own cup of sake on the table in the process. The liquid ran along the wooden surface to finally find an edge to descend down to the tatami mat like a small waterfall. Neither of them noticed nor cared.
"Stop. You must not."
"Why mustn't I?"
"Why are you asking a question that you already know the answer to?"
"The disease is not stopping me. You are."
"It is for your own good."
"You must think that pleasure is only derived from physical unity. I don't blame you for having such an assumption." He continued to pull at the yukata collar until the material slipped off his shoulders. "But I'm a visual person. And I prefer the appreciation of pleasure through my eyes."
"You will not see anything pleasant."
"That is for me to judge."
He stripped the other completely, letting his dark yukata fall into a pile on the floor. He could see the prominences of his collar bones and ribs on the other's disease-torture body. He scrutinized the pale scars and dark bruises the other's horrific past left on his skin.
He gave him no time to feel humiliated, to feel awkward. Seiichi leaned in to kiss him, kiss his skin.
Then, he embraced him, tightly. Their warmth intertwined.
"I wish your heart was as naked as your body. Then, I would know everything about you."
Every mark. Every scar. Every piece of his feeling and thought.
...
Summer.
The cicadas' passionate song matched the boiling heat of the season.
In the garden, he spotted his master standing near the pond, his eyes cast down as if lost in the reflection of the cloudless sky in the water. He joined him.
It was the second summer since that person's arrival in the household, in his master's life. It had been half a year since his departure, buried in his natural grave under layers and layers of white snow.
The snow disguised him in his entirety as it did during their first encounter. It also shrouded his imperfections, the impurities that person stubbornly insisted that he carried.
"The snow purified him. He doesn't need the winter any longer." His master chuckled. "Then again, he never needed it, anyway, as much as he thought he did."
The other said as he stared into the pond, where a number of white lotuses now grew.
"Summer was his season. He favored this season." The other smiled. "That is why, he is here now."
He knew what his master was referring to.
Renji was not physically with them. But the scent of the white lotus that matched the other's scent told of his presence. Renji was here, because summer was his season.
He agreed, as much as winter had suited the other's calm demeanor and purity, as much as the other's crimson essence of life blossoming in the snow rivaled the brilliance of the camellia flowers, winter still did not truly suit the other.
Yes, winter did not fit the other. Winter was too cold. It was as cruel and harsh as all the crude men who have ruined him in the past.
End Notes:
(1) getas - A kind of sandal with an elevated wooden base held onto the feet with a fabric thong passing between the first and second toe. They are worn with traditional Japanese clothing.
(2) kagema - young male prostitutes
(3) danshou (男娼) - male prostitute
(4) Like any prostitute, the kagema were especially valued for their "first time."
(5) Complications of certain STDs.
I made a lot of references to flowers. In the past, the courtesans were said to live in their own little "Flower and Willow World."
Ironically, the only way one can be truly cleansed of his past is through death. While the title refers to Yanagi's physical purification, it was also meant to refer to the romance that Yanagi eventually becomes a part of. Because everything of his past had been "physical" and "contaminated", it is through Yukimura's sincere care for him that he is purified.
There is a reason why this piece is set during the winter. The snow that serves as a purifier, also serves as a blanket to mysteries. Such mysteries include Yanagi's past (which was not really uncovered in here), Sanada's ambivalence towards Yanagi and also Yukimura's relationship with Yanagi. Now, it would have been easy for me to elaborate on such mysteries. But that would have been at the sacrifice of the subtleties in the story, which is the priority preservation in this piece.
Yanagi is actually just "Renji" in here. He has no family name.
Finally, I really hope people don't remember me as "the author obsessed with killing off her characters." So, I will make a promise. This will be my final character death fic (Paper Doll doesn't count). And, if I break this promise...
...I will just come back to delete this promise (XD). (runs away)