Chapter 4: Merciless

The fort in the living room glows from the inside, like a coal in a dying campfire.

"Forts are risky," Seimei informs Ritsuka. He speaks, as he always speaks, with the confidence of a sage. At seven years to his baby brother's two, his words are magical to Ritsuka in their power to explain a new and baffling world. Ritsuka sits in the middle of the floor, holding Chiyo as a temporary replacement for the arms of the brother who talks away his nightmares. He hiccups quietly, but his tears have stopped. As Seimei builds their shelter around him, Ritsuka never takes his solemn eyes from the big brother who always comes when he cries, who always lifts him from his crib and the terror of dreams which he can't yet describe.

Chiyo has only ever been a placeholder for living arms.

Seimei continues, "'Cause, see, Mother's bad enough. But Father's in America. And Mother's too drunk to wake up." He says this matter-of-factly. The sun rises in the east. Forts work best when the chairs face outward. Mother is passed out and won't catch them out of bed. Chiyo wonders how long he's known, when he's learned the words. Now, Ritsuka will always know. "So it's okay to have a fort tonight."

Seimei, Ritsuka, and Chiyo lie on sofa cushions surrounded by a circle of dining room chairs and gaze up at the medley of blankets and bedding that form their makeshift sky. A lantern sits on the floor by their heads, rescued from the hall closet. It never saw its destined campground—Father was working. Seimei called it forth to be their fire, but muted its cheer underneath a washcloth so that its reflection on their sky became the dim orange light and shadows of a cloudy night.

Seimei lies on his side curled around Ritsuka, who presses as close to him as he can with Chiyo in between them. She is completely enclosed like the yolk of an egg. They are very warm. Seimei whispers to Ritsuka, "Was it the dream?"

Ritsuka nods. His chubby baby fingers clutch Chiyo tighter. He replies, the fragments of his recently discovered speech imperfectly recreating his mind: "Saw buh-fly."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Where was it?"

"Sad."

"Sad's not a place, Ritsuka."

Chiyo disagrees.

Ritsuka thinks hard for a moment. He tries again, "Paintin'."

"Closer. 'In a painting.'"

"In paintin'."

"What did it do?"

But whatever the butterfly had done, Ritsuka can't find the words. He starts to cry again, big unrestrained gasps of frustration and despair. Seimei strokes his spine and his hair soothingly. But he does not relent. Chiyo knows that he learned this from his father—Father does not allow Chiyo in the room with them when they train, but Seimei always recites his lessons to her when they're alone. Mercy is weakness. She has never seen him use his training on Ritsuka.

He asks, "Did it fly?"

Ritsuka, the object of Seimei's self-proclaimed absolute devotion, makes unintelligible noises through his desperate tears. He grabs at Seimei's pajama shirt and presses his face into it. Chiyo is squeezed out from between them. The eggshell cracks, and she, the most intimate friend of the boy who has already learned from his parents' example that words hurt as much as they heal, doubts him for the first time.

Seimei kisses Ritsuka softly until he quiets. He learned this from his mother.

This is the healer. Chiyo cannot weep, because she has buttons for eyes.

Seimei dries Ritsuka's face. He offers the hem of his shirt and commands "Blow."

The sound is too loud in the close air beneath their blanket sky. Outside the refrigerator hums. A forgotten cushion on the otherwise stripped sofa falls to the floor. Inside Seimei murmurs quiet, wordless comforts. "Shh, shh." In the circle of his arms Ritsuka sighs. His clutching fists relax. Dry and clean and calm in his brother's arms, Ritsuka watches the patterns of lantern-light and shadow. He refills his arms with ragged teddy-bear. Frowns at her. She has buttons for eyes, and so she doesn't cry. But he clumsily kisses her anyway.

"Did it fly?" Seimei repeats.

Ritsuka shifts his attention to his big brother, the subject of his adoration, and shakes his head no.

Seimei smiles. "Good."

A/N: If you're still with me after the year and a half that it took me to produce this chapter, then you're amazing and awesome and wonderful, and I'm so sorry to have made you wait! Probably you thought this story was abandoned, and it was. Sometimes you just lose your wordspells for awhile. But a recent bout of deep discontentment with my life has inspired me, so give thanks for small blessings, I guess. ;) So, this chapter was some sweet/disturbing Seimei and Ritsuka interaction. Also some symbolism and stuff. Maybe even plot! There's more to come, and I promise it won't take as long this time.

~~~Debesmanna~~~