Chapter two summary: Reishin wishes to fill up the empty eyes of the young boy he was driven to adopt. He's also going to eventually have to come up with a name for the damn thing.
Notes: Thank you very much Midnyte Wolf for your lovely comments, I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!

ii

The child that Reishin had adopted could not remain 'the child' for ever, although the young boy did not seem to mind that everyone else had a name and sense of formality while he possessed none. Reishin personally found something rather disturbing about that, although the young boy was different in a way that Reishin had yet to pinpoint, knowing only that the moment some hint of emotion had flickered in those otherwise empty eyes on that fateful afternoon, that he had been forever lost. The whole situation was silly in the most impractical of senses, as Reishin had never had any desire to have children around him - least of all ones that would actually be considered his own responsibility - and this child wasn't merely any child. The boy was ... damaged wasn't quite the right word, as that seemed to imply that the child knew enough about right and wrong to distinguish between the two and had then been on the receiving end of the later. Lost didn't quite fit either, as to be lost you had to have at least once have been found, and the boy didn't appear to possess any memory of a time when he wasn't on his own.

In the end, Reishin gave up on things like definitions and instead simply remembered those eyes, eyes that had stayed empty that afternoon when Reishin had stumbled across the boy until sadness had slipped slightly in. There hadn't been much of the emotion when Reishin had asked about his parents, and the sadness had been smothered away quickly again by the emptiness that seemed to be the child's default. But, that sadness had filled those strange eyes just enough that it had become starkly clear how infrequently true emotion was reflected in them. Reishin had met many war wary men over the years that had lost their emotions on the battlefield, returning as empty shells that focused simply on the process of living as opposed to anything more complicated. But with the child it was different - Reishin was beginning to suspect he had never experienced all that many emotions at all.

Reishin's gaze slipped from where he was seated at his desk to where the boy was partially hidden in the far corner, surrounded by piles of books Reishin had dumped there in an attempt to keep him occupied. How exactly you were supposed to keep nine year olds entertained, Reishin did not have the faintest of ideas. The child at least appeared to be mildly entertained as he flicked through the pages, although it did not escape Reishin's notice that whenever Reishin moved onto a new book, so did the young boy.

Curiosity was certainly one of the emotions that the child had learnt very quickly, the exposure to so many new and different things drawing out an insatiable thirst for newer and even more different things that Reishin believed that it was an emotion that had perhaps always laid dormant within him, just waiting for an appropriate outlet. Other emotions had come more difficultly to the small boy, and it wasn't rare for the child to wear confusion more frequently than anything else.

With a flutter of his fingers, Reishin flipped his fan open, shielding a gaze that suddenly took on a touch of anger. Of course, there had been a small handful of emotions that had been ingrained into the boy before he had come to the Kou estate, although ingrained was perhaps far too nice a word for it. The boy knew fear, although he hid it almost as well as he hid his sadness, and it had become clear very quickly that he found physical contact something that was disturbingly both foreign and far too familiar. There were things that he expected that no young boy should ever have to expect, and it would take time to reeducate him on such manners.

"That book is far too difficult for you," Reishin said dismissively as the child reached for a book that few of his own advisors would dare attempt. Stilling, the boy rewarded him with a calm gaze that was belied only be the slight narrowing of his eyes. Then, the young boy quietly flicked it open and turned his attention to the first page. "Suit yourself," Reishin said, but behind his fan he smiled. The slither of rebellion had been the only initial emotion that had belonged to the young boy instead of being forced on him, a hidden drive that had meant that even though he was a mere child, the boy had somehow managed to survive the harsh streets of lower Kou on his own. Reishin thought that perhaps that rebellion had existed at the expense of everything else, but what it had forged was something that even Reishin hadn't been able to remain untouched by.

And the child needed a name. Something that somehow encompassed all that the young boy represented without compromising the adult he was sure to become, something that marked him as Reishin's own without also painting the largest of targets on his back. Reishin had always been selfish and petty, two mindsets he never denied himself because he rather liked the end results of them, and he had no intention of sharing the boy with others even if it outwardly appeared as though he was doing that. In only a handful of weeks the child had woven himself so firmly into the fabric of Reishin's every day life.

"Kouyuu," he finally said aloud to no-one in particular, although he still drew the boy's attention. "Kouyuu Li. That shall be your name." The last bit at least was spoken to the boy - to Kouyuu - whose eyes had widened impossibly large. "Aren't you going to say thank you?" Reishin added with a touch of disdain.

"Thank you, Reishin-sama," Kouyuu said dutifully, his gaze still heavy with disbelief. With a sharp nod, Reishin returned to his book, only to be interrupted from it moments later. "Reishin-sama?" The hesitancy in Kouyuu's voice drew Reishin's deliberately impassive gaze to him, and for a moment Kouyuu faltered before finding his hidden steel once more. "Why did you decide to give me a name?" Such a simple question, such the sort of thing that no-one should ever, ever have to ask.

"Only objects don't have names," Reishin replied coolly, affectively ending any thought of further conversation by flicking his fan open once again. Kouyuu knew not to say anything more, his own attention following Reishin's lead and turning back to his impossibly large book. After several, long moments Reishin lowered his fan just enough so that his gaze could slide over the top of it and towards the young boy. Slightly trembling fingers were curled tightly around the book as though it was a lifeline, and while Kouyuu's gaze remained determinedly fixated on the pages before him, there was a shimmer in his eyes that could not be fought back even by biting down hard on his bottom lip and focusing impressively hard on words that were surely starting to blur. Kouyuu didn't dare look at him, possibly couldn't look at him without breaking down in a way that Kouyuu simply wouldn't do and Reishin would never find acceptable, but Reishin saw it, all the same.

Even if it was only for a fleeting moment, for the first time Kouyuu's eyes were full.

And Reishin, much to his own chagrin, fell deeper in love.