One more scene from the nameless fic
Mar. 1st, 2006 11:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sakon76All I had time to type up tonight. More later.
*
Sakon felt Ukon’s presence settle with uncharacteristic silence into the back of his mind. He sent a gentle greeting and concentrated on his work, suppressing a smile. Ukon must really be bored if he was bothering to watch Sakon practice.
Subaru hadn’t seemed surprised when the two of them had described this ability to him, but then there wasn’t much that /did/ upset the onmyouji’s equilibrium. He’d simply asked them not to use the ability again until he had a chance to research it, and gotten back to them a week later with annotated incidental research and a green light.
The reports that Subaru had given him and Ukon to read had been concise without sacrificing detail, easy for even a near-layperson like Sakon to understand, though Ukon had pointed out the possibility that their teacher had only passed along the information suited to beginners in magic manipulation. Reading the reports had given Sakon a new appreciation for the kind of power Subaru had, to command such resources. The Tachibanas were also an old family, but they were entertainers and had risen to prominence only in recent generations. The Sumeragis, on the other hand, had been venerated for their powers for centuries.
It wasn’t that what he and Ukon could do, and would learn to do someday, wasn’t dangerous to others or themselves, Sakon was beginning to realize. It was that somehow the head of the Sumeragi had looked at both himself and his partner and decided to trust them, their instincts, and the skills that Saemon had spent Sakon’s lifetime drilling into him. Magic had the potential to be far more dangerous and far more damaging than facing down a murderer ever had been. And Sakon’s magic wasn’t even the traditional onmyoujutsu the Sumeragi worked with, so his teacher had even more of a right to be cautious and keep him and Ukon on a tight leash.
But... he didn’t.
For some reason that made Sakon feel more comfortable around Subaru than he did around most people. Whether it was the feeling that the Sumeragi understood what it was like to be different and “gifted” too young, to burn too bright, to always hear the never-quite-hidden whispers that there was something wrong with him, that he’d burn out too fast... or whether it was the shared magic... or whether it was just Sakon’s instincts saying he could /trust/ Subaru, he didn’t know. But he was grateful for the guidance and the implied safety net should he fall. It was comforting, when he realized that he was starting to hear the /other/ dolls, the ones his family used for practice and plays, whispering to him and to one another, to know that he wasn’t crazy, only gifted in magic and doll-inclined.
The other dolls, though, weren’t like Ukon. They’d grown aware of themselves and their roles only with the weight of age and use, and had no view of the world outside of the theater and their roles onstage. The princesses were fragile and noble, the samurai haughty and righteous, the courtesans proud and graceful, and the merchants cowardly and longing for love beyond their means. They knew their roles better than Sakon ever would, and he learned from them. Even his grandfather had complimented him on how his performances had gotten better in recent months. Blushing and stammering, Sakon had tried to explain why, feeling like an idiot all the while. But his grandfather, rather than laughing at him or derisively scorning his flights of fancy, had merely gone “hmm” and, stroking his chin, agreed that the older dolls had always seemed to know their roles better than the younger ones.
Sakon didn’t know why he was this way, with the magic and the puppets, neither of which most people would ever understand, but the moments like that one, when his grandfather accepted, even if he could not completely understand, the way Sakon saw the world, or the moments like this, when he moved on a stage before a hall full of empty seats, the puppet in his hands telling him its feelings and how it should move, Ukon in the back of his mind, sharing his vision and presence... these were the golden moments he’d not trade for a lifetime of normality and easy acceptance.
Sakon felt Ukon’s presence settle with uncharacteristic silence into the back of his mind. He sent a gentle greeting and concentrated on his work, suppressing a smile. Ukon must really be bored if he was bothering to watch Sakon practice.
Subaru hadn’t seemed surprised when the two of them had described this ability to him, but then there wasn’t much that /did/ upset the onmyouji’s equilibrium. He’d simply asked them not to use the ability again until he had a chance to research it, and gotten back to them a week later with annotated incidental research and a green light.
The reports that Subaru had given him and Ukon to read had been concise without sacrificing detail, easy for even a near-layperson like Sakon to understand, though Ukon had pointed out the possibility that their teacher had only passed along the information suited to beginners in magic manipulation. Reading the reports had given Sakon a new appreciation for the kind of power Subaru had, to command such resources. The Tachibanas were also an old family, but they were entertainers and had risen to prominence only in recent generations. The Sumeragis, on the other hand, had been venerated for their powers for centuries.
It wasn’t that what he and Ukon could do, and would learn to do someday, wasn’t dangerous to others or themselves, Sakon was beginning to realize. It was that somehow the head of the Sumeragi had looked at both himself and his partner and decided to trust them, their instincts, and the skills that Saemon had spent Sakon’s lifetime drilling into him. Magic had the potential to be far more dangerous and far more damaging than facing down a murderer ever had been. And Sakon’s magic wasn’t even the traditional onmyoujutsu the Sumeragi worked with, so his teacher had even more of a right to be cautious and keep him and Ukon on a tight leash.
But... he didn’t.
For some reason that made Sakon feel more comfortable around Subaru than he did around most people. Whether it was the feeling that the Sumeragi understood what it was like to be different and “gifted” too young, to burn too bright, to always hear the never-quite-hidden whispers that there was something wrong with him, that he’d burn out too fast... or whether it was the shared magic... or whether it was just Sakon’s instincts saying he could /trust/ Subaru, he didn’t know. But he was grateful for the guidance and the implied safety net should he fall. It was comforting, when he realized that he was starting to hear the /other/ dolls, the ones his family used for practice and plays, whispering to him and to one another, to know that he wasn’t crazy, only gifted in magic and doll-inclined.
The other dolls, though, weren’t like Ukon. They’d grown aware of themselves and their roles only with the weight of age and use, and had no view of the world outside of the theater and their roles onstage. The princesses were fragile and noble, the samurai haughty and righteous, the courtesans proud and graceful, and the merchants cowardly and longing for love beyond their means. They knew their roles better than Sakon ever would, and he learned from them. Even his grandfather had complimented him on how his performances had gotten better in recent months. Blushing and stammering, Sakon had tried to explain why, feeling like an idiot all the while. But his grandfather, rather than laughing at him or derisively scorning his flights of fancy, had merely gone “hmm” and, stroking his chin, agreed that the older dolls had always seemed to know their roles better than the younger ones.
Sakon didn’t know why he was this way, with the magic and the puppets, neither of which most people would ever understand, but the moments like that one, when his grandfather accepted, even if he could not completely understand, the way Sakon saw the world, or the moments like this, when he moved on a stage before a hall full of empty seats, the puppet in his hands telling him its feelings and how it should move, Ukon in the back of his mind, sharing his vision and presence... these were the golden moments he’d not trade for a lifetime of normality and easy acceptance.
