Content Warning: slight sexual content in the second half

(beneath the horizontal line if you want to skip it)

 

Chapter Thirty-Six

Unexpectedly a Pervert

 

How long had it been since Nekohiko had glimpsed his own face in the mirror? He'd had a hard time remembering what even Abihiko's face looked like after those years he had spent as a log without any sensory input other than being hacked or sawed. But now that he saw these young men...

It all came back to him in rushes.

Black, very straight, very slick long hair. A pale complexion with a sallow undertone. Big eyes with no real luster to them. He had always been thin and unathletic. He had always had this numb, maybe slightly dazed expression -- of a person who wasn't paying attention to what was going on around him. He had always deemed himself unexciting.

Then again, he viewed all people as unexciting, so it wasn't much coming from him.

These young men, however... They had his exact slim, angular features. But everything else about them was weird. As though seeing oneself in a very flattering yet uncanny mirror.

They were taller and more developed. More muscled, less hunched... so much livelier. The black hair he had always preferred to wear unadorned, was coiffed and well-brushed on them. Their skin had a rosy tint where it needed to be and no deepening shadows around the eyes. But worst -- or at least the most surprising thing -- was the diversity of their facial expressions.

He had never even known his face could smile so ravishingly or ogle Abihiko from beneath the lowered eyelashes so sultrily.

Their clothes also didn't accord with his tastes for simplicity or... well, the affinity to actually wear them. But it was the colors and emblems on those clothes that confounded him even further.

The "Nekohiko lookalikes' ringleader" had told Abihiko this was King Morokata's gift, yet the tender lilac hues of Hisome Family weren't the only ones present. As Nekohiko's gaze roamed through the ghastly room, he saw the black-and-fiery-gold of Hira, the dark-grey-and-lightning flickers of Nagare, the turquoise and teal of Towa, the phantom white of Utsuro. Every single Great Lord's color was present.

These young men had been sent here from all the Great Families? As a gift? And the definition of "gift" for all the Great Lords thus meant -- a male prostitute with Nekohiko's face.

Wow.

Just, wow.

He wondered if he should feel flattered or appalled.

So even though the records of his existence and short reign had been erased from all the history books -- people somehow knew this?! Who did these young men even think this face belonged to? Some boy of easy virtue who had snatched the Emperor's heart once?

With a sinking feeling, Nekohiko realized this was probably true. His entire existence had been written off as the "personal life and sexual relationships" column in Abihiko's grand biography.

"Please, let us all talk about it, maybe something more exciting--" the "Ringleader" tried again, but Abihiko already Bound his ever-present dummy servants to put themselves between him and the young man.

"I swear nothing that happens here leaves this room," the other young man told Abihiko.

Too late. The closest dummy servants assembled a line in which the Voicer dummy took the lead.

"Please remove yourselves from the Emperor's quarters. The teams of guards to escort you out will arrive shortly," it said in its toneless voice while the lesser dummies already began their slow pushback against those their master deemed intruders.

Or in short, all of the humans present.

As Nekohiko had noted before -- nowadays, Abihiko just didn't enjoy having people around.

As casual as ever, Abihiko abandoned the main room of his quarters.

The adjacent rooms also wore marks of debauched presence. Wine cups, alchemic pills and substances strewn over the tables, more spooked youths parting from each other and recoiling from Abihiko's passing. Abihiko ordered more and more of his dummies to take care of it all and clean up the mess. In his voice, Nekohiko heard distinct notes of frustration and of hastened breathing.

Which was to say -- Nekohiko had never doubted that this was what Abihiko's Imperial life looked like. Parties and decadence. It was strange to see him so annoyed with this instead. But his body's rising temperature didn't exactly lie about the urges he still possessed.

After all, he was human. He must have still desired companionship. Sex. Intimacy.

Many times in his life, Nekohiko had heard from others that he was "inhuman" for not knowing what these urges felt like. Because Nekohiko had never shown interest in any of these things. But of course he knew that Abihiko was different.

And now, he guessed this "party" was frustrating Abihiko in more ways than one. From what he knew about men and women and their desires, Abihiko's lonely lifestyle was already a bit too suspect.

Well. Whatever.

Whether Abihiko chased all of these people away or felt the need to join them -- Nekohiko wasn't remaining to witness. The premise itself gave him some intense "spying pervert" feeling from the role his seashell form was playing.

But before he tried to slip away...

"My Lord," the "Ringleader"'s clear, rich voice followed after Abihiko into the deeper rooms. "Don't you think this is a bit rude toward my King Morokata's goodwill? He genuinely wants you to enjoy yourself. The grand Imperial wedding is so soon, after all. Shouldn't you be snatching all the joys the bachelor's life offers before that? It would be so inappropriate to do after the happy union... ha-ha-ha."

Abihiko wanted to slide the doors of his bedroom closed, but the Ringleader of Nekohikos put his foot in between the door and the frame.

He leaned close to the remaining gap and smiled so widely, Nekohiko became scared the young man's jaws would unhinge or his lips would tear. This blank face wasn't made for such extreme facial muscle work!

"My King sends his kindest regards. And also some other, much more personal messages," he whispered, tilting his head to the side. He breathed hotly in Abihiko's face. "Of utmost importance."

Both Abihiko's hand on the door and Nekohiko's consciousness wavered.

Nekohiko had wanted to leave, truly. But not if something important would be said in his presence...

Abihiko didn't open the door wider, though. "You cannot come in. I do not take kindly to strangers near me. The Emperor's safety comes first, you understand. So if you have something to say, speak now," he told the Ringleader.

But the Ringleader only fluttered his eyelashes with more passion. "Ah! Are you afraid of me hiding weapons or other tricky instruments from your sight? My Lord, never worry! It's very easy to check."

And with that, he stripped his ostentatious robes off as fast as it took Nekohiko to blink once.

Ah. The gall of this man.

"See? No weapons. Although some... tricky instruments I wouldn't mind using against you tonight, My Lord, ha-ha!"

Abihiko's patience was wearing itself very thin.

"May I come in now? I cannot possibly speak here, my Lord -- with all these dummies and other Great Lords' youths swooping around..." The Ringleader lowered his voice to velvety. "We wouldn't want them to overhear, would we?"

Abihiko let out an aggravated sigh. "There is nothing of such secrecy Morokata and I have been discussing for years. If he wants to speak to me in private, he can do it himself. For hell's sake, speak up if you have to say something, or--"

"My King told me to say this if you dismiss me." Suddenly, a shade of metallic hardness entered the Ringleader's voice. "'I know what you really did to the original owner of this face. You think you've tricked everyone with that performance? You have disappointed me, Abihiko, very, very much.'"

Nekohiko's breath hitched.

He ran the statement through his mind again. Then again. What you really did... tricked everyone with that performance...

But he couldn't grasp it however much he tried.

Did it mean...

Could it be that--

No. No. Impossible. He'd been through this already. 

Why was he even doubting this?! The statement was so vague as to not mean anything to him, really! Why was he such a dummy that he was ready to jump at any hint of hope at the first opportunity?

He wanted to believe that Abihiko wouldn't betray him or kill him just to steal his throne, especially with how bad Abihiko was with ruling. He wanted to believe that Abihiko was that one person who had cared about him deeply enough to preserve his soul in the tree with his Binding, however impossible that was. He wanted to believe that Abihiko knew he was alive and maybe... waited for him to come back to him.

But wanting to believe without any proofs or confirmation was only that -- a blind, dumb hope.

This young man's statement simply didn't carry any weight on its own.

Stop thinking what it can possibly mean! It means nothing until you can fully understand every word in that sentence! And before that -- no!

No. He would refuse to jump to conclusions of this sort. Just... refuse. He could not handle his hopes being crushed again and again... and again.

Under Nekohiko's hushed form, Abihiko also tensed up.

He downright froze, only a slight shudder surging through him from within.

The Ringleader chuckled, shy. "Please, Your Supreme Divine Majesty, forgive me! I was only relaying the message I've been given -- I would never dare to call you by your name like that! I kind of feel like fainting, so weak in the knees this type of thought makes me, ah!"

Abihiko snapped the door open wide enough to jerk the young man into the room, then slammed the door closed behind him.

"What?" he asked frigidly. "What is the rest of his message? What is he intending to do?"

"Ah! Ah! Not so roughly, I beg you!" The Ringleader whined, then put a hand to his chest in dismay. "Aren't you too excited, Your Majesty! Your fervor makes me blush!"

Even Nekohiko wanted to yell at the young man to drop the act and speak already.

Abihiko grabbed him by the shoulder, steadying before himself. With force, he calmed his tone and breathing down. "Please, you can stay in these rooms for the entire night. You can tell Morokata whatever you want if he asks you what I've been doing here, or to you, or you -- to me. I won't contradict anything you might come up with. Just please -- do not toy with me. Tell me his message."

"Awww, but--"

Abihiko gave him a hard shake. "No. The message."

The young man was very attractive from what Nekohiko had learned about people's tastes, in his youth. Most would find it hard to resist his sweet smile and batting eyelashes.

So when the Ringleader of Nekohikos put his hand on Abihiko's lower abdomen, Nekohiko wasn't exactly surprised by what he found there.

"Oh, aren't you getting too far ahead of yourself, Your Majesty! So worked up already. Let's take care of some other hardships first, then we can talk about my King's orders--" the Ringleader began.

But this was it, apparently.

"I've heard enough."

Abihiko kicked the door ajar and grabbed the clothes the Ringleader had dropped to the floor. He dragged the Ringleader by his elbow -- through the rooms and toward the exit. Once they reached the ante-chamber doors and the hallway in which the last of the fake Nekohikos were being shooed away by the unimpressed dummies, Abihiko shoved the bundle of Ringleader's clothes back at him.

"King Morokata will hear about this! How you're treating his aids!" the Ringleader cried out, angry patches of red blooming on his pale cheeks.

"Are you sure this is the only thing you wanted to tell me?" Abihiko pushed him out the doors but lingered beside him long enough to add. "Next time you or anyone else decide to wear this face, ask around first about what I did to its original owner." A trace of a sneer crept into his voice. "Because if I see this face on any of you ever again, I might just do the same thing to any lookalike of his."

...

How dismissively he said that. How obliviously.

Nekohiko could only take it. Even if his heart was boiling in pain.

"You will regret this--!" the Ringleader swore, hoarse.

Abihiko clanged the heavy doors shut right before the glowering youth's face.

His breath was long and arduous as the silence and solitude of his quarters settled down on him. Slowly, he turned around as though to peer at the dusky room. He swayed to lean on the doors but rethought. Instead, he raked his hair with his hand, untangling the gold crown from his rather messy hairdo after all the tumultuous running around with the courtesans.

Nekohiko kept a wary eye on Abihiko all through the quiet evening. He was mostly just staggered with what he'd seen here, so he found it too hard to get invested in the calming chores Abihiko engaged in as he and his dummies cleaned up the mess the rooms were in.

Abihiko had also taken time to rest in his chilly bathing pool, but that, Nekohiko followed only marginally. He was afraid to see something he didn't want to see, but his worries were misguided. Abihiko also seemed shocked by the gathering of Nekohikos he'd walked in on, so he was not in the mood for talking to himself as he sometimes did... and not in the mood for relaxing either.

It was understandable.

If Nekohiko weren't so far away from him both emotionally and physically, he would have patted him on the shoulder. Being hounded by the Great Lords all the time was a gruesome work for any Emperor.

Saddened, Nekohiko waited for Abihiko to maybe slip in at least some idea he might have about Morokata's mysterious message, but no such luck. Abihiko had already gone to bed, and still -- nothing. Now Nekohiko felt that the day was over whether he liked it or not, so he might as well sleep on it and try to spy on something worthwhile in Abihiko's life tomorrow?

Back in Kataji's and Aomi's room, nothing of importance was happening as well. Aomi had come back some time ago, slurping and dripping all over the floor in her wet clothes.

She threw him a disgruntled look and spat, "Stupid Kasuga! Because of her, I soaked all of my library notes because I forgot to take them out of my pocket before jumping into that pool! And before you say --" she stuck her finger at Nekohiko, miffed to no end "-- how is this Kasuga's fault? It is! It absolutely is. I was too excited to remember about minutiae when I saw the opportunity to annoy her. And I obviously couldn't miss that opportunity! So it is her fault! Stupid, stupid Kasuga!"

"...Good night, Aomi?" Nekohiko told her, watching her from over his favorite window sill.

"Ugh."

The girl would probably not sleep for a while. The night was her domain. The day was Kataji's.

And Abihiko's was... none.

Sighing to himself, Nekohiko put his cat chin on top of his folded paws and gazed into the nightsky window, his eyelids slow and weary as they drooped over his eyes.

Seriously, the seashell would be useful to him if anything in Abihiko's life made sense or gave him any insight to what was happening in it or why, but he was only getting more and more confused by it. Even now, after all the aggravations of his day, Abihiko was merely falling asleep in his roomy, lonely bed as he usually did. A bit late for an average person, but as calmly as ever.

With all those words about "what he had done to the original Nekohiko" -- how could he fall asleep so peacefully? How could he? Did he have no remorse, no guilt, no lingering sadness associated with his... supposedly "best friend" of long ago? All these young courtesans knew he had a weakness for Nekohiko's appearance. But did this weakness not go any deeper than the surface level?

Really?

Just like he'd almost told Aomi tonight -- nobody had ever mourned his passing. Least of all his murderer. Even if the said murderer had once found his face somewhat appealing.

The idea was so depressing, Nekohiko didn't even know if he could handle carrying it all on his own. He needed to share, yet there was no one in his life he could share it with.

And no one to understand. Any of the people directly around him wanted something from him. Aomi wanted information. Kataji wanted Nekohiko's devotion.

Kasuga wanted... something-something military and national security-related, pfff. Typical Nagare desires. And Abihiko...

Even if Nekohiko's seashell could talk, he doubted he would want to talk about this to the only person who had hurt him the most.

Perhaps, there was one other soul who was listening to him all the time, but Nekohiko doubted this soul would comprehend the depths of his misery either.

But even when one wasn't being understood, even just being heard on its own also could mean... a lot.

Nekohiko lifted his face to the endless tangles and ravels of the polished fulgurite pipes in the Nagare castle's walls. The wind hummed through them softly as though eerie ghosts were singing somewhere far.

Whoever that bizarre stranger was who listened to everything the wind whispers carried -- Nekohiko hoped that at least this person would hear him.

"I feel so lost," he told the lonely, chilly draft of the castle. "I feel so lonely. I feel..."

He looked into the dark window in which his own reflection was superimposed upon the distant city, alien and unbelonging.

"I feel so sad."

Only after a few beats of silence, at last -- a gentle trickle of wind caressed his fur on his head as though someone's hand.

 

---

 

***

He was woken up by his name being called.

A tight, sharp cry as though in agony.

On reflex, Nekohiko lifted one ear and then his head to take in the main room of Kataji's and Aomi's chambers. It was dark in here and dark in Kataji's room. But from beneath Aomi's closed doorway, some warm pink light was still trickling out as well as the sounds of her thoughtful strumming on her zither.

The girl seemed all right, just bored. She clearly hadn't called him just now. And neither had Kataji.

He checked the window only to find the small corner of the city that was visible just as sleepy in its electrically-lit, nightlife bustle. The night must not have progressed far. How long had he been asleep?

But then again --

"Nekohiko! No...!"

Nekohiko's heart lurched.

In an instant, he swept off to Abihiko's seashell and found himself...

Oh, Abihiko's heart was seriously going to explode, so loud it banged against his ribcage! Cold sweat had drenched him. Every muscle seemed to have gone rigid with tension...

This nightmare must be too intense for him to handle. But Nekohiko was still too bleary to bother with Abihiko's shit so late at night.

The man constantly had nightmares and had woken Nekohiko all too often this last week with his screaming and flailing all through the night.

If at first it was a bit entertaining or slightly informational because at least it told Nekohiko that Abihiko still had a vulnerable, easily-hurt side to him. But the more it went on, the less enticed it made Nekohiko. None of the nightmares Abihiko had told Nekohiko anything new.

So he had stopped bothering with them after a while.

This night was the first time Nekohiko had heard Abihiko have nightmares about himself.

But like all nightmares, no useful information could be gleaned from them, so Nekohiko only gave Abihiko a very sour look from beneath his sleepy eyelids. The bastard wasn't letting him sleep. How typical of him.

So he grumbled in his own mind, almost like he had done in their childhood when Abihiko was ruining his night-time:

"Just... calm down, dummy. I'm trying to sleep here."

But since he had no mouth in his seashell form, all he could do to substitute his words with -- was to emanate just a slight hint of his Binder's aura. Only the merest touch like Spirits did sometimes to prod one another for signs of life.

He glowed with it long enough for Abihiko's aura to react to it.

Even in sleep, a Binder could grow aware of the presence of another close-by if their auras touched in a peaceful, harmless manner.

And once Abihiko did, his turbulent nightmares subsided. He breathed calmer and stopped thrashing.

Content, Nekohiko wanted to settle back in his cat form for the remaining chunk of sleep he was hoping to get. But Abihiko still wasn't done, was he?

"Neko...? Neko..."

Barely restraining his fury, Nekohiko purred, "What."

He transported to the seashell and was met with the same combination of Abihiko's quickened heartbeat, fevered body temperature, and labored breathing as before. Although it sounded different from the last time. Far less scared. But not any less emotional.

Not a nightmare?

Well. This time, the dream with Nekohiko in it woke Abihiko up fast enough. Nekohiko didn't even have to do anything.

Wonderful, now let me sleep, moron! he thought, listening to Abihiko slowly sit up in his bed and try to pacify his ragged panting.

As though giving up, Abihiko crashed back to his pillow. Though his breaths somewhat slowed down after a while, his deafening heartbeat did not.

And that made Nekohiko very, very testy.

This night surely sucked. Especially because Abihiko lay in his bed awake -- clearly not intending to go to sleep any time soon. His fingers found the two seashells on his neck and clutched them firmly as he lay in the dark, watching the ceiling, thinking of something only he knew.

And thus, Nekohiko had to wake up as well to maybe hear something important Abihiko might share with him. He did talk to his seashells sometimes, no?

Nekohiko forced himself to calm down and wait.

And then wait some more.

Why were they lying in silence if nothing interesting was going to happen, huh? Either sleep and let me sleep or do something of note--

Wait.

Waaaaait.

Why was Abihiko's heartbeat so loud and irregular and his breaths so shallow if he wasn't seeing nightmares and wasn't doing anything worthwhile...

Unless...

Nooo.

With horror, Nekohiko opened his eyes wide, staring at the faint outline of Abihiko's lower jaw above. The room was dark, the lights in it so faint, it was hard to see. But he could discern the sharp, black outline of Abihiko's jawline.

Abihiko's chest rose and fell with strange delays. With strange shudders.

Why was Abihiko's chin angled so high as though he was arching his back... And that subtle rustling sound from down the bed. Its rhythmical pace was oddly familiar to Nekohiko.

Oh please.

Spirits, no!

"Neko..."

Another shuddering breath ran through Abihiko's diaphragm, and Nekohiko bolted.

He ran away from that inappropriate place so fast and his consciousness snapped back to the cat with such ferocity, the cat body flew off the windowsill to the floor.

Did he just witness... that?!

He hadn't meant to! Oh, this was so terrible. So perverted of him! To spy on someone during the self-pleasuring--

"NOOOOO!" he screamed at himself for daring even think such thoughts.

Of course people did it sometimes. But not with unexpected witnesses, especially if those witnesses were so close to one's skin they could hear one's heartbeat and feel the heat of their body!

Was Nekohiko a... pervert now? A voyeur?

Damn it. How distasteful this was.

He had never doubted that Abihiko was human and would do something like this one day. One night. But he had never intended to be present, let alone be the culprit of such improper actions.

His own blood was heating up, so embarrassed he was. Had it been him who had prompted this? Was Abihiko having a... spring dream after Nekohiko had soothed him with his aura? After their auras touched and sensed each other? Gods, he was so conflicted he wanted to bite something or someone.

"What are you yelling for?" Aomi asked him, poking her head out of her door. She gave him a lengthy, blank look as he paced up and down the floor, too riled up to stop. "Why are you running around, stupid? Did something happen?"

Something was still happening.

His dumb seashell body still burned him with the heat of Abihiko's skin. Still sent him waves of quickening pulse in Abihiko's heart. He was running around the room merely to shut up his wild thoughts that threatened to give him images he truly did not want to see.

This heartbeat had beat against his own once, long ago. This heat had once enveloped his own body, too. And the sweat of Abihiko's skin...

Let's say, Nekohiko knew all too well what it tasted like.

So yes. The images... they weren't... very appropriate for him to have. He could control his thoughts well enough on an average day. Thinking about intimacy with others had never been his preferred mode of existence, so it never truly encroached on him.

But when it was literally happening alongside his body and when he remembered too personally all those times when he had done it, himself...

All those people back in his youth had been dead wrong.

That he wasn't interested or wasn't searching for it actively, didn't mean he was inhuman or somehow above them. Or that he was a heartless log. Or a block of ice. Or a statue.

Because once, long ago, he did appreciate such activities in very specific circumstances. And this was something he could not allow himself to remember now, of all things!

"Aomi, play something on your zither, please?" He stopped to give her a desperate glance. "Please? Something lively. I had a... nightmare. I need a distraction."

"But Kataji will yell at me again," she started.

Only Kataji was also not exactly sleeping. Groggy, his voice came from beyond his door. "Itsuki, is everything all right? You were screaming? Why?"

Slowly, he fumbled his door open, reclining on his crutches in his sleeping garb, his hair disheveled, his face lined with the imprint of the pillow on it.

Aomi only shook her head at him, perplexed. "He's just weird tonight..."

"Play something, Aomi, please," Nekohiko said, breaking off into a rasp.

Why was his own heart speeding up? Why was his own breath so hitched? Agh, shameless wooden body parts!

Do not betray me, too!

He didn't know why, but everything in him was it too much turmoil to comprehend what he was feeling.

Just, memories, he guessed. In such an overwhelming flood, they could easily crush a person.

"I'm not good at all," she warned him, sitting on the floor and folding her legs to put her zither on. "But here goes. The Crane and the Swallow. The prelude."

"You can go to bed with me if the sill was too hard for you," Kataji offered after Aomi began her rough version of the song.

Nekohiko coughed to mask his cringe. "I'm good. I might not fall asleep tonight at all."

Who would? After that?!

"Are you sure?" Kataji smiled at him -- a bit sadly, Nekohiko decided. "I miss the purr-box so much. I miss you, too."

Oooooh.

I'm sure.

I'm one thousand percent sure.

Not in any man's bed. Ever again. Nor in any woman's.

Not till the day I die.