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“Oh?” Eyes narrowed in mirth, Ri smiles, his lips curling in silent laughter at Kon’s darkening expression. “So that is what happened at the Ōoku.”
“Do not laugh, my dear husband. It is unbecoming of you.”
“And these circumstances are not?” Kon winces as Ri’s fingers carefully yet deftly undo the bandages. “For someone of your lurid history…why…” His makeup does little to hide his amusement. Rather, it accentuates the features: the slight tilt of the head, the peeking white upper canines that emerge from beneath the thin field of lilac, the twinkling red-lined blue of the horizon. “Our lord truly has a sense of humor, doesn’t he?”
Kon snorts, a quiet careful leaving his mouth. Ri may not intend to harm him—as sardonic as he may be, Ri (unfortunately) has a fairly good heart—but intent often differs from result. Good will nary returns a favorable outcome in Kon’s experience.
“A poor one at that.” Kon’s fingers curl, his face twisting into a grimace as Ri’s fingers prod at the skin around the burn. A thin layer of dried ointment covers the reddened, peeling flesh. While their bodies may recover quickly, especially with the added aid of the Ten Wings’ natural energies, a blow from a mononoke, especially one as powerful (regretful) as the Hinezumi had been, would take some time still. “Surely, he can find a new joke? First, the mother trigram”—Kon ignores the snide correction that Ri interjects, of how the sword, auspicious and equally temperamental as its current wielder, had chosen him—“then the work, and now the Ōoku?”
Kon’s nose wrinkles, a mixture of disdain and disgust. Whether solely directed toward their lord or to the pungent scent wafting around them—the worst the smell and taste, the better that it works, Ri’s master often likes to quip—Ri isn’t particularly sure. He only knows that they must wait for the ingredients to settle. A rather difficult task at the moment. Mercurial, Kon is prone to moods.
To be expected of a beast of Kon’s caliber and age really. Cage-bound (willing in a sense), yet wild, nevertheless.
“Honestly…” Kon continues, features a near-copy of Ri’s own outside of coloration and the markings—his own flair as it were. After centuries together, it no longer unnerves him, having become second-nature as the reflection in a pond or the dappled leaves after a early morning rainstorm. “Unforgivable. Take pride in your decisions! Be steadfast!” Kon’s other hand slams onto the table between them, shaking the various tools, bandage rolls, and concoctions that Ri had set down earlier. Thankfully, however, nothing spills. Some containers closed, others open and ingredients in the midst of settling, it is an unsettling (contradictory) blend of sensations. “Why regret? What is done is done. To take your own life for such a trivial thing…”
Kon trails off, snorting. Around them, the lantern light shivers, that yellow glow melding with the silver of moonlight. Late as Kon’s return had been, geta teeth having clacked loudly upon the stone path that weaves through the forest surrounding the Ten Wings, he had only just arrived in Ri’s room roughly an hour before, just as the sun had dimmed.
First at the shrine, scurry through that innocuous entryway—whether (worn) stacked stone or that dyed (dyed) vermillion, hurry through before the night descends—and step onto the path. Hurry, hurry—stumble onward, step by step until the knees give. That is the manner in which they move, departing (arriving) as phantoms at beck and call, needing neither rest nor sustenance.
Ri’s voice pierces the night air, amicable as always. Unlike his younger days, he has become rather used to Kon’s opinions. Less shakable. “But it is understandable, is it not?”
Kon hisses as Ri guides his injured hand toward the basin and submerges it. A deep green, the liquid sticks to Kon’s hand, irritation intensifying as Ri massages the medication into the skin. A comparatively rougher motion than before, the pads of Ri’s fingers dig into the damaged flesh. It isn’t particularly proper procedure—the skin peels, bits and pieces dispersing amongst the liquid like lotus petals atop a pond’s surface—but it works well enough for their kind.
Easier to rid themselves of damaged flesh than to wait for the full (slow) recovery.
“The mononoke would not exist otherwise if they, humankind, lacked passion.” Ri’s thumbs rub into the fleshy part of Kon’s palm, the thenar eminence, before moving to the hypothenar and then to the knuckles before returning. With each motion, bits of off-colored skin sink downward onto the wooden seabed. “For an unforgivable”—Ri smiles slightly, mirth once more apparent—“woman such as yourself, Su Daji, I would have assumed that you understood her best.”
Kon replies without hesitation, “Absolutely not.” He winces, a low whoosh escaping from in-between his lips. It stings, causes his fingers to instinctively flex in search of purchase, of which they find upon Ri’s wrists. Though, no matter how they scrape and dig into the veins, Ri remains fixated on his task; the only real note of discomfort is the quiet grunt, jaw tightening as to bear the equivalence. “If she were truly unforgivable”—Kon’s eyes narrow, gold flickering toward the bowl before returning to meet Ri’s gaze—“she would have never done such a thing. Regret! Hah! What use is regret? Shame? The only thing that we can do is to move forward. Live with what you have done.”
The table shakes, another bang sounding as Kon’s hand slams on the table once again. In the intermingled light, pale golds and silvers drenching their beings in heavy shadow, Kon’s nails glint black—lotus seeds cast adrift.
“…I see.” In spite of Kon’s outburst, Ri’s voice remains mild. Between them, the medication clouds, murky with both flesh and blood. “What an idealistic statement.”
Kon shakes his head, huffing lightly. “Believe what you wish, my husband, but it is the truth. To be unforgivable is to live for one’s self. Why care for what others think? Why care for your own transgressions?” Throwing his head back, Kon laughs, a husky noise that comes from deep within the chest, before his eyes, now narrowed, return to Ri. Much like his nails, Kon’s eyes have a slight shine to them, vertical pupils each a thin line. “You can learn a bit ‘bout that really.”
“Hmm? How so?”
“You care too much about others. Take better care of yourself. Be selfish. You needn’t be bound to duty.”
Ri merely hums in response, neither offended nor annoyed. Rather, there is that same smile of before—that same mischief. “I am glad that you care, both for me and for your charges.” As he speaks, Ri lifts Kon’s hand up from the basin and begins to dry it with a nearby towel. Rubbed raw, it drips, droplets of cloudy green plopping back into murk. “You’ve changed quite a bit since we’ve first met.” Ri ignores Kon’s ensuing expression, preferring instead to elaborate. “Why…you didn’t even eat anyone this time.”
Kon scoffs. “And lose to you? Our quarterly reports go out soon, an—“
Ri interrupts, his grip tightening around Kon’s, irregardless of the pained gasp that it elicits. His own wrists have already begun to heal. Nothing more than a shallow wound that he could attend to afterwards.
“You saved them.” He nods toward Kon’s hand and the burn beneath the towel. “That woman that you mentioned—Lady Botan. You could have let her die.”
Kon’s brow remains furrowed. “Once again, that is a matter of work.”
“And when have you ever cared about that? You are a man who follows his own whims.” Ri unwraps the towel and sets it to the side, next to an unlabeled flat tin container. “It is something that our lord often admonishes you on. Why…if were not for your skill and your partner’s insistence”—the Sword of Kon, much like its current wielder, is difficult, a problem child of sorts—“on your presence, perhaps our lord would have already dismissed you.”
“He would not,” Kon answers promptly. “Is this not also my punishment? My penance?” Kon grins, wry. “As per his orders, I am to act as a medicine seller and to restrict my abilities. Not that I mind all too much.” Eyes half-lidded, Kon leans forward slightly and rests his chin on his free hand. “Not that I mind all too much. You are a very handsome man, and I rather enjoy seeing you in the mirror. It makes the distance between us seem far less. Furthermore, what matters is the slaying of the mononoke. You know that.”
Ri reaches for the bandages and begins to unravel them, wrapping Kon’s hand as he does so. “Of course. But was she necessary? Or could you have left her as collateral? You rarely go out of your way to help.”
Kon dismisses his accusation. “How else would I have gotten in the next time? You heard my story. Heavy as the air ‘round the Ōoku, there is still something there. A place wretched as that holds more secrets—more grudges to sift through. I do not wish for another repeat of the previous incident. Really…an expired pass? What a frivolous reasoning!”
“If that is what you say.” Placing the finishing touches on the wrappings, Ri lifts Kon’s hand and places a soft kiss on the bandaged knuckles, heedless of the smidge of lilac that sticks to the cloth. “Now…why don’t I brew us some tea? You will need to return soon.”
At Kon’s nod, Ri moves to stand, tatami mats creaking beneath the motion. Though, he doesn’t leave immediately. Instead, the tips of his tapered nails tap upon the lid of the tin container, five pale violet petals glimmering in the dim glow of the room.
“Why don’t you apply this as you wait? This topical cream helps with anxiety.” Ri’s smile widens as Kon tilts his head. “The tissues underneath your eyes are rather swollen. Lack of sleep perhaps?” Ri makes for the kettle, his chest rising and falling in silent laughter as realization dawns on Kon. “My dear wife should take care of himself as well. A life long lived together is a happy one. Is that not what you told me once about my own habits?”
Ri pays no mind to Kon’s protests, instead preferring to make his way toward one of the nearby shelves. Perhaps a ginger tea tonight? Kon is rather partial to those, especially with a generous dollop or two of honey. Kon likes the majority of his teas fairly sweet after all. Or would chamomile or turmeric be better? So many choices!
As Ri ponders, steps light as he nears the shelf, Kon’s voice echoes behind him, words tinged by the faintest hint of embarrassment.