The Furies: Wallflower

By Reiko Miyazaki

*~*

Episode Four

Posted: 1-03-02

*~*

Chances last a finite time

In the warm July nighttime

Every care that keeps you from your feet

Is a care that carries your defeat

Sing that song you sang long ago

A heartbeat, so sure and slow

Hold me and don't let go

The fourteenth domino

-- Ozma "Domino Effect"

*~*

"Your Majesty?"

Galician26Toishke held up a hand to silence his jabbering advisors, and addressed the royal messenger. "You have news for me?"

The man nodded, bent and breathless from his speedy entrance into the stiff activity of the State Room. While waiting, he carefully noted the layout of the chamber and seating arrangement of the council members – it could be useful.

The State Room was a dark maroon, with a small round table in the center and two mahogany desks in the far corners. Atop the desks sat small visonics processing news from throughout the galaxy, while assistants typed up lists of those worthy of Council attention. Thirteen chairs surrounded the round table, for the seating convenience of the Galician and his twelve Council members.

Caught up in careful observation, he neglected to mask his surprise in his first careful look at the Galician.

"Y – your Majesty – I – "

Toishke sighed. He had long ago become used to this reaction, but it was still a bit embarrassing to deal with each time.

The average citizen of the Galactic Forum could easily identify the Galician as a stern-looking, middle-aged man, often seen on vids of state ceremonies and announcements of new or revised laws. The man behind the face was, in fact, no more than a series of look-alike actors whose only occupation was portraying the crown. Firstly, it provided security for the real ruler; but it also concealed his true physical age. Galician26Toishke, main power behind the Galactic Forum and recognized ruler of all within, was a mere child compared to most others in positions of power.

Toishke Matsumura was eighteen years old.

The messenger finally realized his error, and Toishke added another notch to the Humilation Factorization.

"Apologies, your Majesty." He bowed.

"You are excused." Toishke nodded curtly, the messenger's signal to begin the data transfer.

"Your Majesty . . . Prince Jirokichi disappeared soon after he hit the surface of Kinmotsushiti. Princess Sanami is gone as well."

"She's missing from her apartments?"

"Yes."

*~*

"Good. Let's go." Jiro strode across the paper-littered carpet of Nolmë's apartment to open the door, which led to the hallway outside.

"Um, your Highness?"

"Yes?"

"I'm not exactly clothed appropriately." Nolmë gestured to his ill-fitting pajamas, a gift from a great-aunt who had apparently mistaken him for someone much larger. Three hundred pounds larger, to be precise.

Jiro paused, looked back at him, and smiled in a way that unsettled Nolmë somewhat, lips curving upwards in a very approving way. "You'll do," he said, sounding oddly self-satisfied. Nodding smugly, Jiro grabbed the door handle, Nolmë's wrist, and pulled him through the door.

Nolmë didn't remember the hall's checked tile being so streaky, or the paintings on the walls flying by quite so fast. Jiro had a brisk walk that seemed almost lazy to the casual eye; the auburn-haired scientist supposed it sprung from being royalty. As they slowed long enough to step onto the shining, capsule-like elevator, he remembered something that had been tugging at the corner of his mind since the previous day.

"Exceedingly generous of your father to double government spending for the sciences. My colleagues and I were a bit shocked, though, by the memo about it." Nolmë looked inquiringly at Jiro. "Do you know what motivated him to increase monetary support for our field of research?"

Jiro reached out and lightly ran his thumb down the slender boy's milky cheek, as violet eyes blinked in polite confusion. Nolmë squirmed. The taller boy's hands were cool and gentle, his gesture impersonal yet intimate, and called for more emotional exploration than the scientist was willing to allow. He moved a little to the left. "Well?"

The prince smiled, amused. "He's my uncle, itoshii."

"Really?" Nolmë frowned. "I thought he was your father. Certainly seems paternal enough to you and your sister on the vids . . . or is she your cousin, then?"

"Sami's my sister, younger by two years, and my father . . " Jiro paused. "My father is in exile. Toishke is his younger brother." The elevator capsule came to a stop at the bottom of the shaft. Jiro glanced momentarily at the shorter boy. "Best close your mouth, itoshii. Flies have no nutritional value."

He shut it, reddening a shade or two. Jiro particularly admired the way the boy's creamy skin – devoid of freckles, a constant surprise and delight to the prince – became gradually pinker at the tip of his nose, giving him a peaky, cold-nipped look. Curling long fingers around Nolmë's neck, he was about to close the gap between his mouth and the rouge lips of the shorter boy when the elevator door opened.

"Oh, dearie, are you all right?"

Nolmë jerked backward out of the prince's taut grasp. "Ex – excuse me?"

The maternal-looking woman standing outside the recently-opened eleveator door had silvering hair, cheery hazel eyes, and a degree in medicine from Kinmotsushiti University. "I asked if you were feeling all right. Your face is flushed." She felt his forehead briskly.

"I'm healthy, really," Nolmë insisted, reddening further in embarrassment.

She looked at him critically. "If you're sure . . . still, you'd better take my card." Digging in her pristine white handbag, the elderly woman withdrew a business card and handed it to Nolmë. "You'd best take this, dear, in case you feel poorly later on."

"Erm, thanks."

"How unfortunate," remarked Jiro coolly after they'd exited the apartment's well-lit lobby.

"What's unfortunate?" Nolmë was busy edamining the immaculate business card given to him by the woman. It read:

Rumi Hishida, M. D.

401 Hoshikage Boulevard

Soyokaze, Kinmotsushiti

"That," said Jiro, snatching the business card from Nolmë's fingers annoyedly.

*~*

Nolmë became increasingly uncomfortable when Jiro led him into the Miyazaki Bar and Inn, a place noted for housing general riffraff and enemies of the Forum.

"Shouldn't we try somewhere else?"

"No. It'll do." Jiro grasped the smaller, pale hand of the scientist and pulled him through the worn door. Nolmë's shoulders drooped in resignation.

The inner regions of the bar were a bit smoky, but not as dark and dank as he'd expected. A few drunks in the corner laughed uproariously at a joke; the bartender bantered with a college-age man perched waveringly on a barstool.

Nolmë winced as the drunks began snickering at his strange attire. He shrank towards the door when one of the inebriated buffoons, noticing his attractive features, catcalled loudly.

"Please, let's leave . . ." He would have crept towards the exit, but the tightening of Jiro's grip prevented any evasive action on Nolmë's part. Instead, he was dragged to a small, two-person table, far from both the bar and the door. The chairs were rough and a bit uncomfortable, the table well-used but clean.

Nolmë stared tensely at his hands, drawn into himself. He barely noticed when the bartender came to the table and Jiro ordered for both of them, not stopping to check for Nolmë's preference in food and drink.

" – but yore not, are yeh?"

"Actually, yes." Jiro smiled and nodded at the bartender.

"Well, 'ow about that? The Prince of the Galaxy, 'ere in my dreary little establishment!" The bartender couldn't seem to stop nodding and bowing.

"Oh, it's not dreary at all! Eh, itoshii?"

Nolmë was startled out of his self-pity. "What's that?"

The bartender – Mr. Miyazaki, it was assumed – raised his eyebrows in an impressed manner. " 'E's yore boyfriend? Nice choice, yore Highness."

"I'm not his boyfriend," Nolmë interrupted wearily. "He spent last night at my place and insisted on taking me out for breakfast!"

"Spent the night?" The bartender winked.

"No! It's nothing like that!" Nolmë pushed his chair away from the table. "I'm going to the bathroom. Please make Mr. Miyazaki understand that we are not dating and nothing happened last night." He walked off in exasperation.

Jiro watched him leave, then looked back up at the bartender. "He's my boyfriend."

Mr. Miyazaki winked. "Somehow I thought 'e might be."

*~*

One of Toishke's numerous advisors spoke up. He was a thin man; it was difficult to tell whether the grey on his head came from age or the natural ashiness of his brown hair. "What could have compelled them to wander from the protection of the palace?"

Toishke looked at him for a long moment. "I really don't think that's the issue at the moment, do you, Councilman Lithmîr?"

Lithmîr flushed under Toishke's steady gaze. "Your Majesty – I mean no offense – "

"Calm yourself, please, Lithmîr." Toishke smiled. "No offense was meant, old friend. But other things must be dealt with first."

"But your Majesty – the Prince and Princess – " Lithmîr gaped a bit. He was a good man, Toishke knew; with two progeny of his own, the Councilman's first concern was always for children in any given situation. For this, the Galician gave him due admiration and held his friendship highly. Still, the motive wasn't the most important issue at that moment.

Toishke held up a hand. "The Prince and Princess must be found," he stated clearly. "Arrest them if you must, but bring them back to the palace. It is imperative that they are regained."