[The look on Youko's face should tell him everything he needs to know. The glassy eyes that match has own should answer every question that's been racing through his mind since he heard that first clap of thunder. But, it's seeing the man standing behind her that varifies all his assumptions.
Once he's locked eyes with the man, he can't seem to return his gaze to Youko. Maybe he's hoping his silent sorrow will persuade the man to let her stay just a bit longer. Or maybe he can't bear to see anymore of that same look on her face. When his voice finally returns, it's uncharacteristically quiet.]
...can I at least say goodbye to her, first?
[Spoken weakly, pleadingly to the man, as if he's forgotten she's the one who leads their world.]
[Straightening up, Keiki stands to his full height, his posture returning to form, the Saiho of Kei himself. He studies the interloper, the boy as his shirei supplied, silently, expression like an impassive porcelain mask with amethysts set in the sockets.
In truth, there is something unsettling about him and the kirin cannot quite place what it is. He never lingered in Hourai long enough to grow used to the people dotting its shores; even those of around his empress back then were little more than dark blurs beside her blinding aura. It isn't until he fully takes in the wretched, beggared cast to those dark, pleading eyes that the realization strikes him through. He is similar to Taiki when they fished him through and brought him home again, tainted with blood and sorrow, bearing a pitifully shorn mane. A broken kokki. It is frightful to see the shadow of a brother here, now.
The question makes him stiffen in place, his brow creasing. It is an audacious request to make, and a foolish one. An uncharitable thought — Had there not been time enough in all the months Kei was bereft her? — pollutes his mind. The only thing keeping a rebuke from tumbling full-throated from Keiki's mouth is the rigid set to shoulders before him, tight with fear. Reminiscent of another day, one surrounded in broken glass and lacking in time. One with missteps that shaped too much and damned too many.
Patience. Caution.]
We cannot tarry here. [A sigh hisses through his teeth.] Be swift.
[He should be glad to hear that the man wasn't going to rip her away from him while he struggled to reach out for one last farewell. Perhaps just brushing her fingertips with his outstretched hand while the unrelenting wind rushed through the windows and plucked her up — or however the transition would go. But Keiki's restriction on how long Bandou has to say his goodbyes does little to quell any anxiety swelling in his chest. It's an understandable reply, given Youko's royal standing and the amount of time she's been away from the responsibilities associated with ruling an entire kingdom. But, he'd hoped to hear something more akin to: 'Of course, take your time'. Or, at minimum a: 'As long as we leave before nightfall'.
No. The reality that he'll have no more than a brief moment stabs through his chest like an icy blade, piercing and extinguishing the core of red flame that proudly resides there. Before he can even shift his gaze down to Youko, his eyes have welled with tears, blurring her beautiful features from view.
He's always been the emotional one in his group. The weakest, the most likely to hesitate despite his loyalty, but not one of clanmates could mock him for succumbing to his sorrow in this moment. As he reaches out to take her into his arms and sob against her shoulder. There are words he needs to speak, as well, but right now they're caught in his throat, silenced by whimpers and hitches of breath.]
[We cannot tarry here. Be swift. That pronouncement cuts deeply, clean through her lungs, leaving her feeling swimmy and like she can't get a deep enough breath.
Arms surround her and pull her in and panic takes her, floods her, lances straight to her heart, fingertips turning stiff and cold as Bandou collapses against her shoulder. She takes a few short, harsh breaths as he sobs against her, shaking hands mechanically settling against his back, hot tears rolling freely and silently down her face, catching on the curve of her open, wordless mouth.
All Youko wants is time. She has an abundance of it ahead of her, if she doesn't ruin everything, so why can't she take some now, here? Why hasn't she asked him again, revisited what she had once teased — 'You could come with me?' — with the genuine weight of what she feels behind it. Why hadn't she asked? Her fingernails dig into the clothing on his back, clawing in to try to stop the shaking. How is she even meant to begin this goodbye?]
[Sniffling, Bandou forces himself to pull away. He rubs his eyes with the back of his forearm. Where are his hoodie and shades to hide all this emotion? While Youko wouldn't judge him for getting this way, he can only assume what Keiki is thinking. Surely that he's in no way worthy of the affections of his Empress. She deserves someone strong who can handle this scenario with logic and self control. Right now, he almost feels guilty for the tears he sees running down Youko's cheeks.
Standing up straighter, he attempts to calm himself enough to speak without his voice cracking.]
[There is a cruelty in being a kirin. The joy of one's ruler becomes your own delight, their displeasure your discomfort, their sorrow your dread. The sound of her tears hitting tile is likely inaudible to anyone else, especially over the din of the abnormal storm, but each droplet strikes like a cymbal for Keiki, sharp and shrill, reverberating. His eyes study the shift of her shoulders as she struggles to breathe under the tears, mouth thinning into a crescent, the faintest unease coloring his expression. When was the last time she had let her guard down enough around him to cry?
Had she cried in her frustration, when they had argued and she'd stormed away from Gyouten, determined to learn by herself beyond the palace walls? Or was it far before then, when they were still strangers and he'd put the sword in her hand? She allowed herself less tears than her predecessor did, even at half the reign. Maybe that is why seeing it is so striking even beyond the tension created in the tether between them.
So striking he nearly misses the boy addressing him.
Keiki regards him with a heavy look, this boy from Hourai, the pale shadow of Taiki with teary eyes and a reed thin voice and all together the wrong proportions, brows furrowing at the request made. For privacy. An improper thing to ask in the improper manner, revealing too much of what his shirei haven't relayed, though the emotions wrapped around him warrant Keiki's sympathy and he cannot begrudge him for it. Not in the slightest, even if he cannot grant what he has been asked for.]
If we delay further, the damage to this place will grow. [There is a softness to his words this time, as he attempts to dampen the blow and articulate the details he instinctively feels. How this isn't the same shore she came from. The resistance that was felt as he slipped across. The tearing of fabric that bore the shoku.] We cannot know how much. This is a divergent instance.
[Be swift. Be swift. Be swift. Be swift. Be swift. The words thud in her mind in time to her heartbeat. The feeling of Bandou pulling away, slipping out her fingers even by centimeters makes her startle, hands closing tighter around what little purchase she still has. Desperate to keep that link. She watches him numbly, how he tries to pull himself together, stands taller, and the question he asks her kirin.
The request Keiki denies, as gently as he is like to. A denial she understands as his compassion for this place, for its people, which she cannot bring herself to disagree with. To spare the people too much suffering even if it has to hurt them. That this has to be it. To staunch the bleeding her exit will cause in this divergent world. A world dissimilar enough from the Japan she came from to resist even a kirin slipping through.
A piece of her whispers it, dark and greedy, clever in ways she doesn't think of herself and cowardly in ways she tries so hard to purge, but it's right there. That is enough. Wrapped in the truth of a storm he shouldn't have caused, couldn't have. He came himself. He didn't get help. Listen, listen, listen. It would only take the words and the hard-won breath in her lungs. The authority of her throne, the arrogance of an empress.
A stay of execution, just long enough to build a funeral pyre for this love, but—]
[Another pang in his chest at Keiki's reply. He has to look away from the man who seems incapable of fathoming just how attached Bandou's become. Since the moment she first bothered to sit beside him at a bus stop and give him an informative lecture on how to properly treat a nose bleed, to the rush of confidence and goosebumps he had when she recognized him behind the counter at his job and took on a relieved smile hearing he was feeling better. From pillow forts to sandcastles, each named for their union. From first times to an ever lengthening list of other firsts to share. Should he even bother trying to explain? To get him to understand just why this moment is so difficult for him?
There's no point, he thinks. Until Youko finally speaks a command he wasn't expecting, in the slightest. Tears ceasing, he stares wide-eyed at her before his gaze flicks back up to the man. And before Keiki can respond he finds himself raising his hands in protest.]
Wait, wh-what??
[He'd been pleading with Keiki this whole time, completely forgetting that Youko holds the reigns here. And was Youko implying she'd stay? Leave her empire behind? Right now, he can't think of another interpretation of her order. As is the usual with his emotions, they've spun completely around, flipping him from a sulking mess to confused and panic ridden.]
N-no, Youko, you...you can't do that! Not, not for me!
[He's not worth that. If it was the other way around...would he leave HOMRA? Could he? His thoughts hesitate in bringing him an answer to that sudden, intrusive question. After all, a small found family disguised as a ruthless street gang is nothing in comparison to the masses of an entire kingdom who rely on her for guidance and protection. And even he's not petty enough to claim he deserves her attention more.]
[Those words drive the breath from his lungs and seed alarm in his heart. Return to Kei? Certainly not. He cannot leave her, she cannot refuse to return, she knows this. What under Heaven would possess her to say such a thing? He dimly hears the boy — 'Saburouta'; she called him 'Saburouta' — vacillating between two outbursts at her words, one of confusion and one of protestation, clearly as blindsided as Keiki feels. He cannot see the intention behind her words not yet an order.
It is enough to drive him past propriety, stepping directly to her side and into her sight. Any shred of neutrality he bore is eliminated with the decision, all serenity and grace and composure struck from his countenance, replaced with dismay and hurt. Voice raised in a strange choir harmony with all Saburouta has said.]
Your Majesty! You cannot mean that, you must not—
[Abdicate. That cannot be her intention, she would not surely, she will not—!]
[It isn't hard to guess after all their time together what thoughts might be filling his head, fueling his capricious emotions in this charged moment. At seeing that panic overtake him, Youko releases the death-grip she has on his shirt, letting her hands draw back to catch his palms. An interstice in what she has to do, while the objections from her kirin fall on deaf ears.]
Saburouta, please... don't misunderstand. [Softly and furtively spoken, as if for his ears only, with a squeeze of his hands and as much false strength as she can put behind her brittle smile.] There is no version of this story where I don't go back.
[To betray the Mandate of Heaven is to leave the Way. To stray from the Way is a path to death. To abdicate her throne is welcoming death. Just some of those hundreds of little intricacies she has tried to tell him before about her life, her duty.
The arrogance of an empress. It isn't a natural thing for her to tap into at the best of moments, but she reaches for it now all the same, buffeted by Bandou's shock and Keiki's horror. Bleeds away all the tenderness for that register of command that doesn't fully fit on her tongue, the prideful stature of someone chosen, dominance. Her still weeping eyes, made as sharp as she can manage with tears clinging to her lashes, find Keiki there in the hollow at her side and that low, still foreign-to-her imperious voice slips free. A call for silence, for obedience.]
Return to Kei. [The directive, repeated.] You will petition Ren for assistance in my retrieval. [The objective. A bid for diplomacy.] Across the Void Sea or here, neither place will escape unscathed if I leave with you now. This place and people bear enough scars, which I'm certain you've seen. I do not wish to cause more harm and grief than I must. [The rationale. A demand for a show of the depths of a kirin's compassion.] If Ren cannot spare Ren Taiho and the Gogoukanda, I will accept the responsibility for what must be inflicted both Here and There. [The concession. A fail-safe.] That is my command.
[Lastly, the order. A cruel test of the oath her kirin swore to her, but one Youko administers all the same.]
[Her words to him, he'd find them beautifully poetic if it weren't the last thing he'd hoped to hear. Even protesting a moment earlier, outwardly announcing and inwardly degrading himself to something that couldn't begin to compare to the importance of the people she governs. Well, it's obvious by his eyes flooding once more what he really hoped for. He wants to be petty in this moment. Complain and reference every instance in his past where he was never the one chosen. Never the golden child that was given love and respect. He wants to be the most important and cherished thing by someone. By her. But he simply can't be that selfish.
None of the orders Youko speaks to Keiki make sense to him, names and terms that sound beyond foreign to his ears. But he's too caught up in all the conflicting voices in his head to try to decipher it. He pulls his hands free from Youko's grasp, hoping he can banish the self depreciating thoughts from his mind by wiping away the tears that flow down his reddened cheeks.]
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no subject
Once he's locked eyes with the man, he can't seem to return his gaze to Youko. Maybe he's hoping his silent sorrow will persuade the man to let her stay just a bit longer. Or maybe he can't bear to see anymore of that same look on her face. When his voice finally returns, it's uncharacteristically quiet.]
...can I at least say goodbye to her, first?
[Spoken weakly, pleadingly to the man, as if he's forgotten she's the one who leads their world.]
no subject
In truth, there is something unsettling about him and the kirin cannot quite place what it is. He never lingered in Hourai long enough to grow used to the people dotting its shores; even those of around his empress back then were little more than dark blurs beside her blinding aura. It isn't until he fully takes in the wretched, beggared cast to those dark, pleading eyes that the realization strikes him through. He is similar to Taiki when they fished him through and brought him home again, tainted with blood and sorrow, bearing a pitifully shorn mane. A broken kokki. It is frightful to see the shadow of a brother here, now.
The question makes him stiffen in place, his brow creasing. It is an audacious request to make, and a foolish one. An uncharitable thought — Had there not been time enough in all the months Kei was bereft her? — pollutes his mind. The only thing keeping a rebuke from tumbling full-throated from Keiki's mouth is the rigid set to shoulders before him, tight with fear. Reminiscent of another day, one surrounded in broken glass and lacking in time. One with missteps that shaped too much and damned too many.
Patience. Caution.]
We cannot tarry here. [A sigh hisses through his teeth.] Be swift.
no subject
No. The reality that he'll have no more than a brief moment stabs through his chest like an icy blade, piercing and extinguishing the core of red flame that proudly resides there. Before he can even shift his gaze down to Youko, his eyes have welled with tears, blurring her beautiful features from view.
He's always been the emotional one in his group. The weakest, the most likely to hesitate despite his loyalty, but not one of clanmates could mock him for succumbing to his sorrow in this moment. As he reaches out to take her into his arms and sob against her shoulder. There are words he needs to speak, as well, but right now they're caught in his throat, silenced by whimpers and hitches of breath.]
no subject
Arms surround her and pull her in and panic takes her, floods her, lances straight to her heart, fingertips turning stiff and cold as Bandou collapses against her shoulder. She takes a few short, harsh breaths as he sobs against her, shaking hands mechanically settling against his back, hot tears rolling freely and silently down her face, catching on the curve of her open, wordless mouth.
All Youko wants is time. She has an abundance of it ahead of her, if she doesn't ruin everything, so why can't she take some now, here? Why hasn't she asked him again, revisited what she had once teased — 'You could come with me?' — with the genuine weight of what she feels behind it. Why hadn't she asked? Her fingernails dig into the clothing on his back, clawing in to try to stop the shaking. How is she even meant to begin this goodbye?]
no subject
Standing up straighter, he attempts to calm himself enough to speak without his voice cracking.]
Can we go be alone for a few minutes, at least?
no subject
Had she cried in her frustration, when they had argued and she'd stormed away from Gyouten, determined to learn by herself beyond the palace walls? Or was it far before then, when they were still strangers and he'd put the sword in her hand? She allowed herself less tears than her predecessor did, even at half the reign. Maybe that is why seeing it is so striking even beyond the tension created in the tether between them.
So striking he nearly misses the boy addressing him.
Keiki regards him with a heavy look, this boy from Hourai, the pale shadow of Taiki with teary eyes and a reed thin voice and all together the wrong proportions, brows furrowing at the request made. For privacy. An improper thing to ask in the improper manner, revealing too much of what his shirei haven't relayed, though the emotions wrapped around him warrant Keiki's sympathy and he cannot begrudge him for it. Not in the slightest, even if he cannot grant what he has been asked for.]
If we delay further, the damage to this place will grow. [There is a softness to his words this time, as he attempts to dampen the blow and articulate the details he instinctively feels. How this isn't the same shore she came from. The resistance that was felt as he slipped across. The tearing of fabric that bore the shoku.] We cannot know how much. This is a divergent instance.
no subject
The request Keiki denies, as gently as he is like to. A denial she understands as his compassion for this place, for its people, which she cannot bring herself to disagree with. To spare the people too much suffering even if it has to hurt them. That this has to be it. To staunch the bleeding her exit will cause in this divergent world. A world dissimilar enough from the Japan she came from to resist even a kirin slipping through.
A piece of her whispers it, dark and greedy, clever in ways she doesn't think of herself and cowardly in ways she tries so hard to purge, but it's right there. That is enough. Wrapped in the truth of a storm he shouldn't have caused, couldn't have. He came himself. He didn't get help. Listen, listen, listen. It would only take the words and the hard-won breath in her lungs. The authority of her throne, the arrogance of an empress.
A stay of execution, just long enough to build a funeral pyre for this love, but—]
Keiki. Return... to Kei.
no subject
There's no point, he thinks. Until Youko finally speaks a command he wasn't expecting, in the slightest. Tears ceasing, he stares wide-eyed at her before his gaze flicks back up to the man. And before Keiki can respond he finds himself raising his hands in protest.]
Wait, wh-what??
[He'd been pleading with Keiki this whole time, completely forgetting that Youko holds the reigns here. And was Youko implying she'd stay? Leave her empire behind? Right now, he can't think of another interpretation of her order. As is the usual with his emotions, they've spun completely around, flipping him from a sulking mess to confused and panic ridden.]
N-no, Youko, you...you can't do that! Not, not for me!
[He's not worth that. If it was the other way around...would he leave HOMRA? Could he? His thoughts hesitate in bringing him an answer to that sudden, intrusive question. After all, a small found family disguised as a ruthless street gang is nothing in comparison to the masses of an entire kingdom who rely on her for guidance and protection. And even he's not petty enough to claim he deserves her attention more.]
no subject
It is enough to drive him past propriety, stepping directly to her side and into her sight. Any shred of neutrality he bore is eliminated with the decision, all serenity and grace and composure struck from his countenance, replaced with dismay and hurt. Voice raised in a strange choir harmony with all Saburouta has said.]
Your Majesty! You cannot mean that, you must not—
[Abdicate. That cannot be her intention, she would not surely, she will not—!]
We must return!
no subject
Saburouta, please... don't misunderstand. [Softly and furtively spoken, as if for his ears only, with a squeeze of his hands and as much false strength as she can put behind her brittle smile.] There is no version of this story where I don't go back.
[To betray the Mandate of Heaven is to leave the Way. To stray from the Way is a path to death. To abdicate her throne is welcoming death. Just some of those hundreds of little intricacies she has tried to tell him before about her life, her duty.
The arrogance of an empress. It isn't a natural thing for her to tap into at the best of moments, but she reaches for it now all the same, buffeted by Bandou's shock and Keiki's horror. Bleeds away all the tenderness for that register of command that doesn't fully fit on her tongue, the prideful stature of someone chosen, dominance. Her still weeping eyes, made as sharp as she can manage with tears clinging to her lashes, find Keiki there in the hollow at her side and that low, still foreign-to-her imperious voice slips free. A call for silence, for obedience.]
Return to Kei. [The directive, repeated.] You will petition Ren for assistance in my retrieval. [The objective. A bid for diplomacy.] Across the Void Sea or here, neither place will escape unscathed if I leave with you now. This place and people bear enough scars, which I'm certain you've seen. I do not wish to cause more harm and grief than I must. [The rationale. A demand for a show of the depths of a kirin's compassion.] If Ren cannot spare Ren Taiho and the Gogoukanda, I will accept the responsibility for what must be inflicted both Here and There. [The concession. A fail-safe.] That is my command.
[Lastly, the order. A cruel test of the oath her kirin swore to her, but one Youko administers all the same.]
no subject
None of the orders Youko speaks to Keiki make sense to him, names and terms that sound beyond foreign to his ears. But he's too caught up in all the conflicting voices in his head to try to decipher it. He pulls his hands free from Youko's grasp, hoping he can banish the self depreciating thoughts from his mind by wiping away the tears that flow down his reddened cheeks.]