Chapter Forty

Needles

 

He was glad to be a meager seashell.

At least he was tiny and hidden, only his eyesight peeking out of the stiff Imperial dress collars Abihiko was wearing. So Morokata wasn't paying him attention, solely focused on Abihiko.

The resentment he felt toward this man was still strong. Yet Nekohiko hadn't been afraid or angry at Morokata most of his life. Despite the less-than-pleasant introduction, he and Morokata had never fought afterward and neither did Morokata and Abihiko. He sometimes wondered if Suminoe's perceptions of his nephew were correct: Morokata wasn't so petty as to remember some dumb kids bothering him contrary to how he had seemed at first.

The three of them had occasionally met five years ago, even had allied to fight common threats, but had never sought out interactions outside of professional Binders' issues. So now, feeling Abihiko's body tensing up under Nekohiko's, Nekohiko had only one question:

...why?

Yes, Morokata was an unpleasant person. But the man had always been true to the defensive mode of Hisome method: unless someone sought him out to attack, he would not strike back. Wouldn't even be able to. As all Hisomes, their strength was in replying, never in making the first move.

So what had exactly happened these past five years that Abihiko's and Morokata's relationship had come to this?

Abihiko took a faltering step back. His hand went for his throat but never made it there. Instead, his fingertips brushed against Nekohiko's shell and the real Kitten's Paw underneath.

"What do you want?" Abihiko said.

"To be offered a seat at the very least," Morokata said, slightly irritated. "I've come a long way and--"

Abihiko's voice resonated deep in Nekohiko's shell. "Get the hell out of here," he growled. "These are my rooms, no one is allowed to be here!"

At last, Morokata moved out of the shadows, but Abihiko wasn't interested in seeing him. He turned and went deeper into his quarters, leaving Morokata behind. Yet in the way he walked and in the chilly sensation in his body, Nekohiko could tell that he was escaping rather than ordering Morokata out. Abihiko grabbed the edge of the screen door to his bedroom and tried to pull it closed.

Morokata's thin white hand blocked it from the other side. And as usual, however frail he looked, he always surprised people with his grim steadiness. He didn't flinch when Abihiko almost slammed his hand into the doorframe. Slowly, he plied the door open.

Abihiko surrendered all his resistance the moment he saw Morokata's face in the sliver of the open door.

The sight of it froze him over.

Morokata looked as he had all those years ago, only slightly less sweet from maturing. Everything was more pronounced and angular in his face now but it was still unmistakably a Hisome face. Icy, majestic. Gorgeous.

Nekohiko hadn't had a chance to compare the adult Abihiko's height to others because Abihiko avoided coming close to people. Now Nekohiko could. If to him, the adult Morokata had seemed tall years ago, now Morokata had to look up to hold Abihiko's gaze.

And yet, it was the tall, powerful Emperor Abihiko who was now shuddering from Morokata's proximity, not the other way around.

"Shhh, don't be like this," Morokata murmured, forcing the door even wider to step in. He opened his arms as though for an embrace. "It breaks my heart. Have I ever hurt you that you flee the moment you see me?"

"This is my room," Abihiko backed away. Nekohiko had never seen him behave like this in front of anyone. "Please let me be. You can't be here. You... shouldn't."

"This isn't remotely what I asked, Abihiko."

"No," Abihiko said, straining. "You have never hurt me. Of course you haven't. You never would--"

As Morokata smiled, leaning closer, Abihiko stiffened.

"Good that you remember," Morokata said. His eyes roved through the dusky room as though searching for something.

He walked to the bed, guiding Abihiko there with his hand on his shoulder, then gently yet forcefully pushed him to sit down. Himself, he never stopped studying the room and its contents. The scrolls and envelopes with the governmental seals caught his attention at once. After making sure that Abihiko wouldn't run away from him, he abandoned him on the bed and went to fetch the papers off the desk. Casually, he scanned them one by one, and Nekohiko's frustration intensified.

These weren't meant for the King of the Mists to read! These were highly secret council documents solely for the Emperor's eyes to see!

Yet Abihiko didn't stop him. Neither did he move or even dare to lift his eyes from the floor. All Abihiko did was sit resignedly on the bed as though waiting for Morokata's orders.

Nekohiko wanted to howl.

"No," Morokata said as he read one of the last documents. He lifted it to show Abihiko. "Scrap this one. Agriculture is fine as is."

No, it wasn't! This was one of the few reforms that Nekohiko had actually agreed with Abihiko on! The Empire was straining because of all the wars between the kingdoms. Something had to be done to ensure the safety of crops!

Abihiko nodded, silent. Morokata gave him an amused stare. "Aren't you sweet and agreeable tonight? So much I might even consider rewarding you, for a change." When Abihiko clenched up his jaws, Morokata waved a hand in irritation. "No need to tense up. Sakai isn't here. Only I, and I've never even touched you, yes?"

Sakai?

The King of Utsuro? Previously known as the Lord of the Waste, the Fifth of the Great Lords. What did he have to do with anything? Out of all the Great Lords, Sakai was the least politically-involved one. Nekohiko hadn't even known him that well. Nobody did.

Now, apparently, not only Morokata knew him well enough to mention in such an off-hand way, but Abihiko also did?

At Sakai's name, Abihiko dropped his chin lower. His fingers dug into his clothes, spasming. "Don't... mention him."

"I won't if you keep behaving," Morokata said in a placating, cloying way. But his face never changed from the playful expression he regarded Abihiko with. He studied him another moment, then asked, "When is the wedding, Abihiko? Pick the date."

"The wedding can wait." Abihiko averted his gaze. "My little brother and sister are held hostage at Kasuga's castle, so such frivolous matters as my wedding--"

"Done." Morokata shrugged at Abihiko's nervous hush. "Kasuga can be easily dealt with. The soldiers of Towa Kingdom only wait for a reason to pounce on her. I'll happily provide them with one. Let me ask again: when is your wedding to Sakami? Pick. a date."

Abihiko dragged out time. "It's all the same to me," he said.

"In two weeks."

Nekohiko could hear Abihiko's heart sink its beats. "My family is under attack... I can't... so soon..."

"Didn't you just say it's all the same to you? Fine, in a month from now." Morokata flipped his hair from falling over his face with a subtle jerk of his head. "Why are you so slow about it anyway? Sakami will be a wonderful wife. Quiet, thoughtful... apathetic, maybe even a bit boring. True -- she's a bit of a log in many areas, but I believe that's exactly your taste."

...

What was this supposed to mean? Even Nekohiko had trouble restraining his resentment. He had no idea how Abihiko kept so calm under these insinuations.

Languidly, Morokata strolled over. "Or maybe you're still waiting for someone else to marry you? Who? Enlighten me." He stopped in front of Abihiko, hand casually reaching out to Abihiko's collar as though to grab the cord that was hidden there.

Instantly furious, Abihiko slapped his hand away, then pressed his fingers over both Kitten's Paws, muffling Nekohiko's hearing and completely blocking his view. "You want it in a month -- then let it be in a month. Do not touch me."

"Abihiko," Morokata's voice grew metallic. "Did you just slap my hand?"

In a rush, both men darted to the side. Abihiko tried to flee but Morokata stepped in his way. Nekohiko didn't see, so he didn't know what was going on. But he heard the noise of fighting and Abihiko'd desperate growl through clenched teeth and he heard someone's bones straining as though force was being applied to them.

"Give them to me," Morokata ordered.

With a rude snap, Morokata ripped the cord off Abihiko's neck and took both the real seashell and Nekohiko into his hand. Frowning, he studied the seashells under the tricky light of the lanterns. His face didn't show anything other than scorn. He turned back to Abihiko and for the first time since long ago, Nekohiko could see Abihiko from the side.

Gods, he looked terrible. Morokata must have pushed him to the floor to wrestle the seashells out of his grip, and Abihiko had never risen from it. If before, Nekohiko had noticed how ill he looked, now he seemed positively dying -- only his eyes burned as he focused his gaze on the floor.

Sighing, Morokata flexed the hand that Abihiko had slapped before. "How dare you?" he wondered out loud. "After all that I've done for you! Do you not know the concept of gratitude? Or did you forget how much you owe me for what happened five years ago?"

Nekohiko's ears pricked.

Abihiko shot Morokata a hateful glance.

"I don't owe anyone anything for five years ago," he said through teeth. "I did all the work. None of you were even brave enough to look him in the eye, let alone touch him or stand close to him!"

"Oh please. The only thing that made you so special was that you were conveniently friends for years. I suppose he did trust you even if you didn't trust him in return. Ironic, isn't it? Though I would struggle to call that thing 'friendship' at all with how easily you turned on him," Morokata added with a crooning chuckle.

Nekohiko's heart scalded with pain. He didn't even care to notice Abihiko's expression now.

Morokata was right.

It couldn't have been friendship if all it took to dissipate was...

...what? Was it his throne Abihiko had desired? But why? He wasn't good at being the Emperor. He wasn't interested in politics and wasn't competent doing it. More than that -- he wasn't even good at opulence or decadence either. From what Nekohiko had seen him do as the Emperor, Abihiko didn't abuse his privileges, didn't squander his resources, didn't revel in the benefits being an Emperor brought. He was marginally... fine. Not bad, not good. Just... a sort of a ruler.

So why desire the throne to begin with, if he didn't plan on using it either for his benefit or for the country's?

Or perhaps it was Nekohiko's Binding prowess he despised? Something else? Revenge for something only Abihiko cared about? Didn't matter. The friendship hadn't survived any of those reasons, so it must have never existed in the first place.

"Even then, did you forget how you begged me? How you pled on your knees to put you on the Emerald Throne whatever it took? And so? Look around you, you ingrate! Isn't the Throne yours?" Morokata threw the seashells back at him, and they bounced off Abihiko's chest to his lap. "And to think -- that after all these years, you still scheme behind my back with Okinaga to undermine your debts to me?!"

Abihiko clasped the seashells in his fingers. "I wasn't scheming. He's my foster father. He and I were only talking--"

"About what?"

"About my siblings being taken--"

"Lies." Morokata turned aside in aggravation. "You and he met before Kasuga took them. I am really losing patience here, Abihiko. Last chance -- what were you and Okinaga talking about behind my back! Or else..."

Whatever that "else" was, Abihiko couldn't hide his terror even if he tried. His words caught in his throat, and he paled.

Impressed, Nekohiko absorbed everything he saw and heard. What did Morokata have in his possession that it scared Abihiko so? Morokata wasn't someone Nekohiko personally ever wanted to deal with, but in this, he wondered if he and Morokata had the same affinity to torment Abihiko.

"Daichi was murdered while on his diplomatic trip to Utsuro Kingdom," Abihiko said, resigned. "By a Spirit. Lord Okinaga thought it was peculiar and wanted to investigate. That is all."

After a moment, a tender, almost motherly smile coiled on Morokata's lips. "Good. It sounds just irrelevant and insignificant enough that it might just be true." His eyes flicked to the corner of the room and the enormous bronze door embedded in it. He cocked his head to Abihiko. "But just to be safe... open the vault."

Abihiko glanced up, numb.

Morokata's lips enunciated each word. "You seem to have trouble hearing today. I have to repeat everything twice, mmm? Open the vault. I want to make sure you're not lying and hiding something from me."

The previous threat Morokata had made still worked. Abihiko rose to his feet. The only dawdling he did was to carefully Bind his cord necklace with the seashells back around his neck. Once it was in place, Abihiko came to the vault door. All vigor had seeped out of his motions -- everything was mechanistic, mindless, dull. He spun the doorwheel and clicked the numbers for the vault to open. Once it did, the same mellow golden glow that Nekohiko had glimpsed a week ago spilled out.

He had to squeeze his drawn eyes shut, so bright the inside of the vault was. But as his sight became used to it, he could discern other colors. The small confine, its rounded, smooth walls, and the endless dappling shadows of nonexistent trees that danced upon the walls.

Like a tiny garden inside the vault.

There was a Bound aspect of sunlight in here and the Bound aspects of shadowy foliage and speckled motes of pollen and dust swirling in the air. An aspect of breeze disturbed them and made the leaves rustle, bringing in the scents of mountain flowers and the bumbling of a hidden brook. The room was small, of course -- so there were no actual trees, and nowhere for the wind to sweep through, no flowers, no brooks. Everything illusory, solely to create an environment of serenity around a small table.

Really, there wasn't much inside the room. A couple of bookshelves by the walls with scrolls and letter boxes haphazardly piled on them. Everything in the room was centered around that table on which stood a very average-looking ceramic flower pot. Inside it, a bit of soil and a tiny tree rooted in it.

No taller than a baby's arm -- a furry-needled, glowingly-green, young Emerald Fir.

And nothing else.

Nekohiko blinked at it, then swiveled his eyes to peek at Abihiko from below. He couldn't see his expression but judging from the angle, Abihiko was staring at that potted Fir. His chin was set hard, his eyelashes drooping over his cheeks. Nothing else Nekohiko could see -- and he wished to, so much!

He was baffled.

What the hell was this tree about? Was this the thing Abihiko had come to every night, pouring tea... wait no. Not tea. That he carried it in a teapot didn't mean it was tea. He was only watering that Fir, nightly. And talked to it. Nightly.

And dared call... this pathetic, small offshoot of a grander tree -- Nekohiko!

Nightly.

...why...

Apart from his unhealthy appearance, Nekohiko was now more than sure Abihiko's mental health had also deteriorated through the years.

From the bookshelves, terrible noise came as Morokata rummaged through the books, scrolls, and boxes into which he peeped. There wasn't much stuff here to go through, so he was done with the vault fast, clearly not finding anything other than Abihiko's letters from his family members, his parents' memorabilia and some souvenirs and trinkets he held dear.

Morokata sniffed a breath of relief out, but then stopped by the table with an unnerved look in his eye. His gaze clung to the Fir for a second, and damn it -- Nekohiko felt annoyed. Even though he didn't perceive himself as a tree, a sense of odd protectiveness surged within him when the potted Fir was looked at with such derision.

Abihiko stirred and Morokata noticed that.

"Don't worry. I won't harm your precious tree. I just wonder if there might be something underneath or inside..."

He tilted the pot to see if anything was hidden under it, then dug his long fingers into the soil. Abihiko's heart pumped faster because Morokata obviously didn't give a damn about ruining the tree roots. But Abihiko didn't need to worry. Fir trees had their methods of protecting themselves from intruders.

Not a moment in, and Morokata hissed, yanking his fingers from under the sharp needles.

Emerald Firs were notorious with how long and how jewel-bright and how stingy their needles were. Part of Nekohiko wanted to cheer for the small plant for standing its ground like that, but the other part shuddered imagining how easily Morokata could smash it into the wall.

Good thing that being mad at a tree was such a pathetic idea that nobody would want to. Morokata gave Abihiko a stern look and sucked on his bleeding fingers as he made his way out of the vault. But he paused at the threshold where Abihiko stood.

"Please tell our sweet Nekohiko good night for me. I'm afraid he was too upset with me touching him, so I don't want to bother him again and risk being stung. He has always been exactly the same, hasn't he? A needly little wretch."

Abihiko gave him a tired stare.

"I know you do it anyway. Talk to him. Every night. You are painfully predictable, aren't you?" Morokata drew in a long breath. "Guilty conscience does it to people, of course -- to murderers and traitors especially. To carry such a horrid burden on one's shoulders... Tsk, even imagining it makes my heart bleed."

"Thank you, Morokata," Abihiko said. "Nekohiko and I appreciate your visit. I bet he wishes you good night in return." He suddenly walked to the table and bent down to peer at the tree, beaming. "Don't you? Aww, don't you, Neko? Tell dear Morokata goodbye -- he's leaving!"

"...so you do possess some semblance of humor, after all." But Morokata was indeed going away, having extorted everything one could possibly need from the Emperor's rooms. He glanced back only to say, "Please keep talking or snuggling up to your stingy tree all you want, just do everything else according to what you're allowed to."

Abihiko smiled.

"...which is?"

"Wedding, Abihiko. Just focus on your wedding."

"I need to get my siblings from Kasuga," Abihiko said hollowly.

But Morokata waved him off. "No. I order you to stay put. Can you do that, Abihiko? Your life is too precious to waste on such concerns, especially when your marriage is so soon. We wouldn't want you to harm yourself on accident, do we? Everything else -- Kasuga, Daichi, council, Okinaga, even your siblings -- I'll take care of." A delicious smirk. "And you know you can trust me. Unlike you and your little needled friend, I have never really broken any of my promises, mmm?"

Long after he'd left, Abihiko still didn't move. He kept standing by the table and watching how the sunlight freckled the emerald needles. Then carefully, he reached his fingers and smoothed out the soil in the pot disturbed by Morokata. The tree cut his skin, too, but he didn't mind. After he was done, he went out to fetch the teapot and watered the plant. But he was silent tonight and didn't talk to the tree at all. Then, as he loitered in the doorway as though deciding something crucial, he suddenly flung the teapot into the wall of his room.

But his calm heartbeat didn't shift under Nekohiko's shell. In fact, Abihiko was oddly serene compared to how he usually was on any given day.

He turned back to the vault. His fingers lifted and assembled a complex combination of Binding techniques -- Imperial fusion, Hisome glamors, Towa stabilization, Hira sequencing. A convoluted Binding spell most people would never be able to calculate in theory, let alone apply in practice. In his mind, Nekohiko split the Binding techniques Abihiko did to understand what each was doing.

Apparently, it was a small schedule that would shift the day and night lighting inside the vault, provide the differences in temperature and air, and supply water to the tree at specific intervals. What an utterly useless sequence but an ingenious one, too.

The length of the sequence, though... Nekohiko calculated it as he observed.

The whole schedule was set exactly for a week.

Hm? Why would Abihiko set up such a sequence? As an Emperor, he never had to leave his Palace, therefore he would be here to take care of the tree for as long as he was around...

"Neko, don't be scared. I will come back," Abihiko told the tree, then slowly pulled the door closed. "I will never abandon you."

...

Liar.

You already abandoned me once, Nekohiko wanted to tell him as he watched Abihiko stroll through the dark rooms of his quarters. All your promises are a lie.

Even Morokata thought so.

"Get my armor and my weapons," Abihiko told the Bound dummy he passed by the ante-chamber. He sounded cheery -- exactly as he'd sounded most of Nekohiko's life. Cheery, a bit manic -- and perfectly casual. Once the dummy left for his garment chambers, Abihiko turned to the second dummy. "Order the Imperial Bodyguards to prepare a few squads for a march."

"Where to?" the dummy's lifeless voice hummed.

"Ah, to get my lovely siblings from the Nagare Queen, of course," Abihiko said, surprised. "We might need to fight for them, after all."

"When should they--"

Abihiko only grew happier. "Now. Right now."

The dummy departed to fulfill the orders while the first dummy came back with two other mannequins carrying the garments and a scabbard in their arms.

Nekohiko's eyes froze over those beautiful, painfully familiar clothes.

These weren't the Imperial clothes and armor he had half-expected to see. They weren't Emerald-green, and they weren't encrusted with golden threads and jeweled Spirit stones as all the Emperor's military outfits were. No.

These were red. Dark-red, of course, but red nonetheless.

Abihiko's favorite set of Spirit Wayfaring robes, and his favorite color. Together with the long, single-edged sword in a slightly-curved scabbard.

Nekohiko knew this sword. The fully-finished, adult version of Maple Apple.

And, with a smile, Abihiko reached out and took it.