I guess it bothered me when I saw Miaka and Yui or Kouji and Tasuki together. Maybe you could call it jealousy. I’m not proud anymore. I can see what it was. Death does that to you.

No one ever thought of me as the jealous type, for which I am immensely grateful. And then when friendship was offered, I didn’t know how to react. It almost makes me laugh now.

Almost.

I remember first seeing her, overlooking the scene on the courtyard. She was small, but didn’t look fragile. To me, she just looked incredibly young, but she was only three years younger than me.

They kept trying to pull me away from the scene. Ladies-in-waiting. I had never wanted them. They could give away my secret. I always had to keep it a secret. I did not dare breathe a word of it. If they found out, I’d be killed. Then Kourin would--

I watched the scene, jealous this time of her proximity to the emperor. I wanted to be near him. I didn’t know him, but it didn’t matter. He was so kind to the people. He would be kind to me too. I would love him. No, I corrected myself, I did love him. And she was standing too close.

But then I was needed. She was a fool, this girl. It was obvious the emperor was smitten with her. Yet her eyes did not stray from the younger man beside her.

That was why I decided to kiss him.

It was jealousy, pure and simple. I wanted the emperor, and he was hers. She wanted the other youth, so I took him. In a way, it was fair.

And then she couldn’t find that made-up earring...

It just wasn’t fair! Even when she was such a fool, she was kind, and I couldn’t take it.

I didn’t stop the tears when they came, despite the fact that she was right in front of me.

That was my first hint into real friendship.

It didn’t really matter how I felt towards her, towards Hotohori, towards anyone. My destiny was to be alone.

I can at least accept this now.

It sounds pretty sad, even to my own ears, to hear that. But I’m used to it. The years at the palace were very lonely.

Hotohori always told Miaka that he was lonely. It was ironic that he had never noticed the loneliest person in his palace, despite how hard she tried to make herself known.

That was me.

It really doesn’t matter now. I’m glad my death made him realize another love he had. Houki. I suppose I’m jealous of her too, but not for myself. Kourin could have married him. He would never have deserved her, but then again, no one could ever have been worthy of my sister.

I wonder why he married her though. Because he felt guilty about me? Or had he finally realized the meaning of love? Or... my heart pounds to think this... could he have loved me back?

That was a foolish thought.

I’m not sure how our friendship built from there, Miaka and I. It just sort of happened. She told me that Tamahome promised to be her oniichan while she was there, but he couldn’t fulfill that role. He was her lover. I was her brother. I suppose in a way she replaced Kourin, though no one could ever, ever fill the hole in my heart she had left.

I remember the stares of the people as I watched her bleed. At ten years of age, watching someone die in front of you like that, especially the closest person in the world to you, is rather traumatic.

I wanted to live for you, Kourin. Did I do well?

I also clearly remember the first day I put on her clothes. Mother and Father made me take them off, and when I refused, they took them off me themselves.

But the next day, I came down with them on, and they did the same thing.

Finally, they got tired of it, and took all of Kourin’s things away.

But I had hidden some. I wasn’t stupid. And I knew where to find more. After all, when your father runs a clothing store, it isn’t difficult to take some.

Some townspeople jeered at first. But I was strong. I ignored them. Many also were confused. Kourin and I looked so much alike that it was nearly impossible to tell which was which, so they thought it was Ryuuen that had died, and not Kourin.

My parents, sensing I would not change, encouraged this rumor that their son was dead.

I wish I had died instead of her. She would have been a better seishi. And Hotohori could have loved her.

It’s quiet here. I wonder if death will always be so quiet. But Miaka knows I’m watching over her. She can still sometimes hear my voice. That surprises me.

I remember watching everyone after I died. I was confused, seeing my own body, but smiled as I saw how good I looked, despite everything. It surprised me that everyone was crying so hard. Even... even Tasuki.

We were so different, the bandit and I. He was so innocent, so trusting. He was used to friendship. He let himself feel deeply. He let himself love. He was honest with himself.

How I wanted to be like him.

And he was crying.

I never told anything about myself. Before I told Tamahome and Miaka about Kourin, what did any of them know about me?

I’m still surprised that I told Tamahome how I felt about Miaka. Maybe it was the drinking, though at that point, I hadn’t even had one glass. Maybe I sensed somehow that I was gong to die. I don’t know. I almost wish I hadn’t told him. Then he wouldn’t feel so guilty.

It was silly that he should feel guilty. Miaka had chosen him, not Hotohori, not me, not anyone else. I had a sneaking suspicion that Tasuki felt the same way a lot of us did, but in this one instance, he was pushing it aside, trying to be noble for his friend Tamahome.

So why? Why did they befriend me? Knowing nothing about me, only what I had shown them in the beginning... It was only because I was a seishi that they put up with me at first. After how I acted, I didn’t deserve anything from them. But even so...

I smile when I think of them. My friends. I think that if I were still gay, I could have fallen in love with every one of them. It is a sweet thought that my last sight in life was my first kiss and my first love. My first love, as a man.

I find that relationship to me rather ironic. But I’m so glad they are happy together and I’ll continue to watch over them.

Tamahome.

He always was kind to me, despite the fact that I must have frightened him out of his mind at our first meeting. Having a man be your first kiss when you aren’t gay... I smile at the thought. Poor Tamahome.

In the end though, I was his big brother too. He had never had one. But he needed me. He even told me that I felt like an older brother, despite my talking like a girl. And he was the one that held me as I bled over the snow, staining it dark with my life, and then died.

Tasuki.

Always so loudmouthed, speaking whatever he wanted, not caring whether it was kind or not. I always had a soft spot for him. I suppose we would have been a little more alike had we been placed in similar circumstances. But I doubt that he would have lived for Kourin. He would have accepted it, just as he accepted my death, and would have moved on. In a way, I envy that, but I don’t think I’d trade my years of loneliness for anything. Maybe it was almost a penance for me. I always did blame myself. Not fast enough, not good enough. But Tasuki would have been stronger and dealt with the pain, instead of hiding from it.

Mitsukake.

I remember, in Choko, how he held the body of the woman he loved, Shouka, so tenderly. I also somehow knew then that no one would hold me like that, not as a lover. I remember the tears on his cheeks and the timbre of his voice as he cried out the name of his one love. And then he was quiet. I wonder if he had always been so silent, or if it had been recent, with her death. But when I died... he talked Miaka out of her madness. He was gentle and calm, taking my place almost for a moment, as a brother. I wanted to thank him for that, but...

Chichiri.

I think the monk hid more than even I did. Masks don’t always necessarily hide only faces. And something in Mitsukake touched him. I always wondered about Chichiri, what he was keeping to himself. Had Chichiri lost a lover too? That might explain why Chichiri felt so strongly- though he did not often show it- about the healer. But Chichiri was always there for me, for all of us, leading us and guiding us.

Chiriko.

I hardly knew the boy, it seemed. He was so sweet and quiet and smart. It was silly, but I always felt inferior around him. He wouldn’t have wanted that, I know. And Tasuki and Mitsukake never seemed to feel that way. But I wasn’t them. The boy would have been upset had he known. Another thing I never told, one in a long litany.

Hotohori.

How I did love him, if that were love. I would have died for him a thousand times, and in my own way, I did die that many times. Every glance at Miaka, every smile that was not for me, was a type of death more painful than any physical pain I could bear. I think that I knew he could never love me, but I wanted it for Kourin. Nothing but the best for my sister. And the emperor was the best. But he wasn’t my love. He was Kourin’s. I loved him in place of Kourin, for her. I... I loved Miaka.

What can I say? They say there is only ever one person with whom you are complete, and for me, she was taken. But I could live with that, if she was happy. If I could just watch over her for the rest of my life, I would be content. I never expected anyone to ever tell me that they loved me.

She was the one who bridged to me through my loneliness, reaching out to find me for who I am. I’m grateful. I will always love her.

It’s time.

I’ve said my good-byes. I will always watch over them.

My friends.
 
 

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