Entry tags:

weiss kreuz

The Road Towards Kamakura, part II (Weiss Kreuz, Nagi/Mamoru)
Title: The Road Towards Kamakura
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz
Pairings: Nagi/Mamoru, Crawford/Schuldig, Mamoru/OFC, Nagi/OFC
Rating: R
Summary: In exile in a distant and unimportant post for his family's crimes, Mamoru builds himself a new life.
Word Count: 61000 words.
Author's Note: Thank you so much to toscas_kiss for beta-reading, and to puddingcat, for her wonderful illustrations! This is a sequel to Sailing to Hirugashima, a science-fiction AU in a space-opera setting. Like that story, it takes its title from place names important to the founding of the Kamakura shogunate.
Sections: I; II; III; IV; V; VI; VII




The government buildings were made of the same thick stone walls as the embassy, though on a larger scale. Mamoru made his speech, listened attentively to Kaminski make his – it was, as Hayashi had predicted, full of platitudes about helping their cultures understand each other – and smiled till his jaw ached as picture after picture was taken of Kaminski and him shaking hands. Hayashi seemed pleased with his performance, Mamoru thought, as did Naoe, who looked very self-contained and distinguished in the grey suit. Finally the formalities seemed to be over, and the reception was held, Mamoru being introduced to politicians, businesspeople and investors in the planet's future growth. He hoped that between them his staff would remember all the names, which quickly blurred into one forgettable mass in his mind. Dotted around the room he noted the staff who had accompanied him talking to other guests, and felt jealous of their skill in the local language. Hayashi had been right to suggest bringing Laurent and Martin, Mamoru thought, seeing both of them holding their own in conversation. Laurent, tall and fair-haired, stood out in the crowd, and Martin moved easily from conversation to conversation. She definitely had some imperial ancestry, Mamoru thought watching her, and wondered if it counted for or against her in the eyes of her workmates.

He had one blessed minute when he was not being introduced to anyone, and then one of the planetary development council took him by the elbow and steered him away from the crowd. Mamoru caught Naoe's movement out of the corner of his eye and hoped mayhem was not about to be unleashed.

"Hayashi-san," Mamoru called, "This gentleman wants to speak to me."

"It's Mr Eder, the justice councillor," Hayashi whispered in his ear.

"Good evening, Mr Eder," Mamoru said carefully, pleased to see the man clearly had understood.

"Mr Takatori," Eder said. "We decided against bringing this up during the meeting, as it would cause too much outcry in the press, but I wish to alert you to the fact that tomorrow we will require official statements from you that all the staff of your embassy are here of their own free will."

Mamoru took advantage of the pauses dictated by Hayashi's translation to say, "If people are assigned to a position, Mr Eder –"

"That's not what we mean," Eder said a little impatiently. "Those two, for example, Mr Laurent and Ms Martin – are they legally free people?"

"Laurent-san and Martin-san are civil servants of long experience," Mamoru said, hoping he sounded as horrified as he felt at the man's gall in actually saying such a thing to his face. Was that really, he wondered, what the people who had been speaking to Laurent and Martin had all been thinking? "I will have no problem in this embassy officially making such a statement."

"The Alliance does not condone slavery," Eder said. "If any of your staff makes a complaint of that nature, they will automatically be given asylum."

"We don't keep slaves," Mamoru said. "I will have the statement delivered to you by the start of work hours." Eder seemed a little confused, he thought as he took his leave as politely as he could, as if he'd thought he was making a standard statement that would be met with standard rebuttals rather than personal offence. "I suppose such asylum offers would not hold for you or I," he said viciously as he eased through the crowd again. Hayashi blanched, and Mamoru was immediately regretful. "I'm sorry, Hayashi-san," he said. "Please forget I said such a stupid thing, I simply meant I'm sure their tolerance does not extend to imperials." Hayashi excused himself for a moment, and Mamoru groaned inwardly that he had undone his good work of getting to know the man with one stupid remark.

"I think I scared him," he said as Naoe came up to him.

"I think I scared him, didn't you see the look he gave me? Did you ask him to commit treason?"

"I made it clear in a room full of people, some of whom must know at least a little of the language, that I'm here against my will," Mamoru whispered.

"Try to stop doing that," Naoe said. He examined the crowds of people mildly. "He'll get over it," he said. "So will you, eventually."

Mamoru gave him a practiced smile, and went back to trying out his limited stock of phrases on people who came up to stare at him as if he were an exotic animal.

It was a long evening.

* * *


"Sir," Martin said, "We've had several requests for information from schools for children of varying ages. Kishida-san said I should handle these requests, in light of my previous experience." She bowed, proffering a data chip. "Ito-san has seen this already. If this material seems acceptable –" she said politely.

Mamoru snapped it into his console and selected files at random. Were ambassadors usually expected to deal with such issues, he wondered, or was his inexperience being taken advantage of in some way? He rejected the thought, in this instance at least. Martin didn't seem the kind of person who would do that, he thought.

"There's a great deal here," he said. "Did you prepare it all this quickly?"

She flushed slightly, looking down. "Some I worked on during the journey," she said. "Some, however, is material I prepared for use with children in the empire. The branch I worked in was very involved in producing educational materials to be used on worlds undergoing settlement. Children here in the Alliance cannot be so very different, I thought." Her voice trailed away, as if she felt she had said something indelicate.

"Of course they can't be," Mamoru said. It wasn't the children's fault to be born here, he thought. "You've prepared it in their language, of course?" he said to fill the silence. A brilliant remark, he scolded himself. Of course it would be in the local language. "What format will we supply this in?" he asked.

"We can give them chips, of course," Martin said, "We have been asked in some cases, however, for a speaker from the embassy. Kishida-san has already replied to these that you would be unable to spare the time to visit them."

"Perhaps I could find the time at the Children's Festival," Mamoru said. Alliance children would speak even more freely than the adults, he thought, imagining poor Hayashi's consternation at translating impertinences.

"If I might have your permission, Takatori-sama," Martin said, "I could go to these schools. I could tell them the truth about the empire, so they won't believe the Alliance propaganda that says subjects of the empire are badly treated."

Mamoru considered it. "They might make very distressing remarks," he said.

"Such as were made to Your Excellency by Eder-san?" Martin said. "I could refute them."

She seemed fervent. Mamoru wondered how much of it reflected her thoughts. "What if the teachers say that there is discrimination?" he said. "If they say the laws speak of equality, but subjects of the empire do not rank the same as imperials?" She looked silently down at her hands, folded neatly in her lap. Mamoru pinched the bridge of his nose and congratulated himself on his continuing ability to unsettle and frighten the people he would work with for the rest of his life. If he tried to save the moment by assuring her there was no surveillance in his office he would only unsettle her further and it was not quite true, anyway. Naoe had said there was no Alliance surveillance – that Naoe himself had set some up was beyond doubt.

"I asked to be sent here, Your Excellency," Martin said quietly. "I wasn't sent to free up a job for someone seen as more fitting. I just wanted to be useful again."

"Martin-san, I didn't –" Mamoru started before deciding he had apparently been appallingly rude enough for one day. It was her job, he told himself, for which she was trained. Perhaps she saw this as an opportunity for new experience that she would be unlikely to achieve sequestered in an office in the empire. "If Mori-san and Lt Naoe consider it safe, I have no objections," he said. "If they think it safe," he repeated as she started bowing in thanks. He stared at the door after she'd gone, unable to decide if he had done the right thing or not.


* * *


"Mamoru," Naoe said in some irritation, watching Mamoru pick at the remains of the evening meal, "You must stop questioning every action you take. You'll be seen as weak, and you cannot afford that, you'll have a lifetime of obeying your staff ahead. What harm will come of speaking to a class of Alliance brats?"

Mamoru gave up chasing the last pieces of vegetable in his bowl. Naoe had long since lost interest in the topic of conversation, but he was still unhappy with what he'd said. "We don't have the security to allow staff to be accompanied," he said, "And I feel –"

" – as if you've delivered the flower of Imperial womanhood into the rapacious hands of Alliance villains," Naoe said. "War dramas aren't meant to be taken as clear and objective documentaries, you know."

"They might ask questions that could be distressing for a subject of the empire," Mamoru said stubbornly.

"Which of course you would want to protect her from, as her delicate subject sensibilities could not handle the stress as well as could one of us," Naoe said sarcastically. "I thought you were against discrimination."

"That's not fair," Mamoru muttered. He didn't look at Naoe, not wanting to see the scorn in his face.

Naoe sighed. "Are you so discontent so soon?" he asked. "Mamoru – Mamoru, listen to me. You and I, we know why we're here, but for the others, this is their career. This is their life, and they want to do well in it. You really are the ambassador to this world – it's an insult to your family, but it's still a real post. Some of your staff will be planning on staying here forever, but some, the younger ones especially, must be using it as a stepping-stone to advance their careers. They'll see themselves back in the empire, seeking promotion with their experience from a distant world. Be fair to them. Let them do their jobs."

Mamoru glanced at him. He seemed sincere, which meant nothing, of course. Naoe was trained to look sincere while leading traitors into traps. There was nothing to be gained from such thoughts, however. Naoe was right, and Mamoru's own life would be better if he took the advice. "I'll let them do their jobs," he said. "And I'll be better at doing mine. You don't have to add my job to yours."

"You're my job," Naoe said. "And the political well-being of the embassy of course." He unfolded himself from where he knelt and came round to Mamoru's side of the low table, kneeling beside him. "You're more than my job," he said quietly, as quietly as he'd spoken on board the ship, and leant in to kiss Mamoru's lips.

Mamoru held him close, a hand firmly on the back of his neck to keep him from retreat. He did not care that everyone inside the empire and out might think him a credulous fool, he believed Naoe's assertion that this was real, it was not deception. "Nagi –" he whispered against Naoe's mouth, and kissed him again, running his hands over him. "You're not going to run off to an appointment this time?" he asked, smiling at the mess he'd made of Naoe's hair.

"No, I'm not," Naoe said, his there-and-gone smile lightening his face. "I cleared my schedule. Only, Mamoru, let's not kick over the table."

Mamoru laughed at the sight of the dishes shoved away from them and the discarded chopsticks slowly rotating, their movement echoing the touch of Naoe's fingers on his skin. He stood, Naoe following. "Let's not," he said, and pulled Naoe with him to his room.

"You use your bathroom," Naoe said, almost shyly. "I'll get what we need from my room." His shyness gone, he looked slyly at Mamoru, adding, "Who would have dared search my luggage? And one of us had to be thinking ahead." With that he was gone, leaving Mamoru to wash and brush his teeth.

Mamoru had barely emerged when Naoe was back, his uniform gone, and dressed in a yukata that clung damply to him, as if he had spared no time to dry himself after his brief shower. "You'll catch a cold," Mamoru said, wrapping himself round him.

"Not on this planet," Naoe said. "I opened my window and a blast of heat dried me nearly completely."

He forestalled further speech with a kiss, drawing Mamoru back towards the bed. He untied Mamoru's clothing and lay close, his hands warm on Mamoru's skin. They'd barely had the opportunity to do more, and never in such comfort. Mamoru found it difficult not to simply giggle in delight. "What do you want?" he asked between kisses. "I'm happy with whatever you want, Nagi."

Naoe - Nagi, Mamoru thought; there was no need to guard even his thoughts against familiarity any longer – Nagi gestured and, without him even looking, the small tube and packets he'd dropped on the bedside cabinet came to his hand. He pressed them against Mamoru's palm, folding his fingers over them.

"I told you already," he said. "I want you to learn to take the lead."

They were both clumsily eager, the fearful restraint of months of schooling themselves to not even look with more than dispassion at each other flung aside. Dealing neatly with another person's arms and legs was more difficult than Mamoru had expected, but Nagi was as set on solving the puzzle as he was. The reality was better by far than his fantasies, Mamoru thought, clinging tight to Nagi and gasping, for while there had not been the smooth perfection his imagination had suggested to him, there was the utter joy of not having to care about anything but each other. Nagi's face was wiped free of all the cares Mamoru had grown used to thinking of merely part of his normal expression, and he looked young and peaceful, as he had when they had first met.

"Worth waiting for?" Nagi said lazily.

"Yes," Mamoru said, kissing him lightly. Then, as if he were speaking to the person he'd once thought Nagi to be rather than the Psi-Corps officer he now knew, he went on mischievously, "I especially liked the part where you elbowed me in the nose."

Nagi squinted at him in astonishment, as if Mamoru were the last person in the empire he'd have expected to make jokes after sex. Then he started to laugh, louder and more freely than Mamoru had thought he ever could. He resolved to make Nagi laugh again, if he could.

"If I hadn't been quick there was one point where you tried to knee me in the groin," Nagi said through his laughter. "We can only improve." He turned on his side, tracing one finger along Mamoru's side. "I'm going to tell you something," he said, his face serious again. "About the whole situation we're in."

Mamoru half muffled him with a fierce embrace. "You don't have to, I know you had to do it," he said.

"No, listen. Back then, when I told you I was a student – Mamoru, listen. I was meant to watch you, to see what sort of remnant of your family your grandfather had managed to find. It was considered more cost-effective, you see, to let him search you out than spend resources on us doing it." Nagi looked away, a little shamefaced. "There was you, and he found that daughter of your eldest brother – she was nothing to worry about, a little child like that. But you -- I was supposed to find out if you'd ever been involved in any of your family's crimes, if you were a traitor." He paused, tracing patterns on Mamoru's chest. "You were so innocent," he said, "In so many ways. And I was so glad. When we talked about friendship – it wasn't a lie. None of it. I was going to recommend minimal surveillance, you'd never have noticed, it would only have been a matter of slight delays in ports if you traveled off-world. One week before my report was due I discovered documentation saying I was to be instructed to lead you into a political scandal, the last purge of people who had supported your father. There were estimates for how long the show trials would take, and the days most suitable for your execution. They didn't care about my evidence, they wouldn't give a damn for my report, and they would kill you and say they had Psi-Corps backing for their actions." He looked grim and bitter at the memory. "As if they could use me like that, like they thought I'd provide evidence to their specifications. I rewrote my report, I falsified supporting materials, recommended exile and supervision and sent it all off, higher than any of those fools were expecting." He ran a finger down Mamoru's face, murmuring, "I couldn't just exonerate you, you'd have been murdered the moment my attention was elsewhere. It had to be enough to satisfy them they were rid of you, but not enough for more than exile. Then I went to you to arrest you. I'm sorry, Mamoru."

Mamoru sighed, rolling onto his back. Sometimes he dreamed of it, that morning when Nagi had appeared, grim and black-uniformed, demanding that the criminal Takatori no Mamoru surrender his person to justice. He hadn't believed it at first, for who would? It was only when he found himself spun round and his arms wrenched behind him by unseen force that he understood his trouble. "You said you were saving my life," he said. "Thank you. What happened to my grandfather and niece?"

"I don't know," Nagi said. "Your family's enemies could use the child to show their mercy and dedication to separating innocent and guilty. It would be in their interest to show her safe and well. Your grandfather and his women, though –"

"I don't blame you," Mamoru said, still looking at the ceiling. Trust me, Nagi had said. Please, Mamoru, trust me. "What happened to you?"

"Oh, they weren't happy," Nagi said. "I had a fine line to walk, standing on my dignity as a member of the Corps while seeming a raw and inexperienced agent who'd inadvertently upset carefully laid plans. I only got away with it because your enemies hadn't wanted to call in more than one Psi-Corps officer to the case – and having got me, they were stuck with my now public recommendations. I'd never have managed it if they'd had a telepath."

"Your people wouldn't have covered for you?" Mamoru said.

"It depends on the circumstance. It depends on the telepath. I turned myself in, and begged permission to make up for my youthful mistake by becoming your supervisor. That's why I vanished. I knew I had a very short time to get to anyone of superior rank who might listen."

"But you did," Mamoru said, turning back. He tried not to remember his time in prison if he could; the only bearable memory was Nagi's return.

"Your enemies had abused the system to try to kill you, I abused my authority to try to save us both. I made a ship take off un-scheduled and give me transport to the next system so I could be debriefed." He smiled cynically. "I knew there was a telepath there who'd be sympathetic. I'd been stationed there myself, there were four of us in the unit. I came back with an official reprimand for rashness, but officially above suspicion for anything else, and with orders to accompany you here. And here I am. It's an exile for me as much as for you."

"You destroyed your career," Mamoru said in wonderment. Nagi took his hand and squeezed it tight for a moment.

"I don't regret it," he said. "Now that you know, do you?"

"I'd hate it if you weren't here," Mamoru said. "And I prefer being alive to being dead – I might even have more everyday freedom here than if all this had never happened."

"Yes, if we're careful," Nagi said, stroking his face. "And I won't be suddenly assigned elsewhere."

"Good," Mamoru said. "Good. What now?"

"Now?" Nagi said. "Now, I think we rest, and then make love again. What do you think?"

"I think you're an excellent planner," Mamoru said, and wrapped himself around Nagi, still filled with warm pleasure at the lengths Nagi had gone to for him. It felt very good to be so important to another human being.





* * *


His staff were laughing at him, Mamoru thought. People smiled, and looked more cheerful when they saw him. Ito almost grinned when going over the day's schedule in the morning. Mamoru checked his reflection to make sure he wasn't covered in food, but could see nothing amusing about his appearance.

"Why are they laughing at me?" he whispered as he ate lunch with Nagi.

"I don't think they're laughing at you," Nagi said quietly.

Mamoru raised an eyebrow and looked around the room. People briefly met his eyes, then dropped their gazes, smiling to themselves. It was polite to eat with his staff now and then, he thought, and was probably polite also not to ask what was amusing.

"You'd make a terrible secret agent," Nagi said, amusement in his voice too, though thankfully not in his face. "Mamoru, for the past two days your grin has gone from here –" A light, invisible touch flicked against Mamoru's left ear. " – to here." The touch came against his right ear.

"I should get back to my office," Mamoru said, fighting down a blush.

"All right," Nagi said, and watched him go.

Mamoru was glad that it was a decent amount of time later before Nagi came to see him. People were still smiling at him, and he cautiously decided he didn't mind.

"Am I really so obvious?" he said.

"Oh, yes," Nagi said. "You're obviously cheerful, anyway. I don't think they've worked out why as yet. You'll probably be able to tell when they do by the number of people glaring at me and trying to subtly help you deal with my harassment." He snorted with dry laughter at Mamoru's expression. "I'm the villain, you're the mistreated innocent – they can tell you haven't a treacherous bone in your body, Mamoru. Right now they're just happy you're happier than you were at first."

"Oh," Mamoru said.

"They like you, didn't you notice?"

Mamoru looked at him blankly. The misery of his first days was gone, he thought, and even that had been nothing compared to the start of his nightmare. He wasn't being watched, Nagi'd risked everything to save him and be with him and now he found he was unexpectedly liked by people he'd thought would despise him. "I won't let them dislike you," he said.

"That's something we can work at," Nagi said calmly.

"What happens now?" Mamoru said, the future suddenly not grey and unendingly drab in his mind. Nagi took his hand and held it tight.

"Now we live, Mamoru," he said. "We live."


* * *


It was strange, Mamoru thought, how easily he had become accustomed to his new life. There was little to do, once the first weeks were over, and he could devote his time to learning the local language, forcing its complicated grammar into his mind. It was ridiculously difficult to learn, he thought despairingly. As he struggled with irregular verbs he more and more admired the achievements of his staff who could speak even a little of the language. He himself felt he was progressing backwards, and might as well admit he could do no more than point at objects while dredging up hopeful yet inaccurate vocabulary.

When official business required him it was a pleasant break in the daily routine, and he eagerly read the requests for information. Once, a no doubt heavily edited copy of a trade agreement reached his desk, sent as a courtesy from the planetary development council, and he read it avidly, devouring the information that both he and the council knew would never benefit them, Alcmene lying as it did too far from the Imperial trade routes. The requests for interviews were fewer now – twice he'd appeared on current affairs broadcasts, a frustrating experience for both him and the interviewers, he was sure. Hayashi had reluctantly shown him the opinion columns in the press after both occasions, and Mamoru still winced when he recalled the analysis of his performance. He was too young, too inexperienced, too eager to deflect difficult questions higher up the line to Imperial provincial offices, the analysts agreed. They only differed in that some suggested that the presence of any Imperial embassy at all indicated the potential for success Alcmene must possess, and that others decried the use of their world as a training-ground for the surplus sons of the Imperial governing families.

"Don't bother with their opinions, Ambassador Takatori," Hayashi said, being announced by Ito to find Mamoru reading over the translation of one such column again, days later. "That writer in particular is known for his outrageous statements, I've heard."

"You yourself said it's important to know how the locals see us," Mamoru said. "And he's right about my inexperience. I have to say I prefer this one, though –" He held up a popular magazine, open to a page containing a couple of pictures of him. "It's refreshing to know my major fault is I don't wear bright enough colours."

Hayashi laughed politely. "That magazine has also requested an interview – they've submitted a list of questions." Ito took the print-out he held out and handed it to Mamoru. "It seems more serious than their usual fare, but is still light by comparison with the others. They focus on some cultural questions and education."

"Can't Kishida-san and Martin-san handle it?" Mamoru asked. "They may be more positive towards us, but do you think it's quite the sort of publication I should speak to directly?"

"No," Hayashi said. "Certainly not for a full interview. I've discussed it with Kishida-san. This magazine is mainly read by women; he and I think Martin-san would be the best person to speak to them, with her experience in education. At the end you could perhaps say a few words to them about the high value we put on children and education."

"Why not?" Mamoru said. It would be a pleasant enough low-pressure task, he thought. "I'm sure their readership would be disappointed if they didn't get at least one picture of my colourless self." It would be a good thing to reach out to such frivolous, popular publications, he thought, as well as the more serious ones. They'd appear more human, less as objects of worry, and perhaps he and his staff would eventually not be faced with the insulting caricatures of villainous imperials that adorned some of the opinion columns.

As the weeks went on, and it became clear that no troops had been somehow smuggled on-world, and that the embassy personnel wore clothing it was hard to describe as exotic when hurrying to work, they were all allowed to sink towards the obscurity Nagi had promised. The younger members of the embassy staff worked harder, it seemed, in response to that; Ito was always waiting for him when he came to the office in the morning, budgetary reports from Ishikawa crossed Mamoru's desk regularly, and Martin's diligence in explaining the empire and its customs to Alcmene's schoolchildren was obvious.

The broadcasting channels gradually lost interest in the embassy, and showed fewer documentaries explaining Imperial history and customs. That was a pity in a way, Mamoru thought. Half the embassy staff treated such broadcasts as comedy, laughing at the biased presentation and misinformation. The other half seemed to find pleasure in being outraged by the programmes, dissecting them mercilessly during their breaks and threatening to write letters of complaint.

The torpor wasn't unpleasant, Mamoru reflected, but he would have to find something to do. Ito, Ishikawa and Martin had the right idea, he thought, doing their jobs properly, even if there was no immediate need for them to do so. In two years, or four, when the next imperial ship made the long trek out to Alcmene, he might lose them from the staff. His letters of recommendation might be worthless, he thought, but he was sure that Hayashi's would help them in their careers. Then the embassy would be short-staffed, of course, unless someone thought a stint far from civilization would help them up the career ladder and applied. He shook his head at his own planning. What point was there in worrying about what would happen so far in the future? No imperial ship would arrive for a very long time, and he should simply concentrate on doing his job to the best of his abilities. Faithful, quiet service would start the rebuilding of his family's good name.

"Should the embassy agree to more interviews?" he asked Nagi, as they lay pleasantly sleepy, still tangled in an embrace despite the evening's heat. "Not just me, but Hayashi and the others?"

"We shouldn't jump every time some news programme wants to fill a few minutes," Nagi said. "You know we don't want to keep pushing ourselves into the public eye."

"I know," Mamoru said, poking a finger into Nagi's chest to keep him awake, "But you know I want to prove myself out here. I was never a traitor, and I want to show I can be depended on to do my job."

"Isn't it enough that I know what you're like? That your staff does?" Nagi said. "Mamoru, it's too early for you to be restless. We need time, time to be forgotten. We're not going back, what does it matter how they see you?" He squinted at Mamoru's expression and sighed. "I know I can't fix what happened to you in prison. I'm sorry."

"Do you think they'll really find it profitable to use my brother's child as propaganda for their mercy to the innocent?" Mamoru said in a small voice.

"Your grandfather did the right thing in making her existence so publicly known," Nagi said firmly. "They'd face questions if she just disappeared. Did they try to use her fate against you?"

"Yeah," Mamoru said heavily. "In the interrogations they said no one would care what happened to a traitor's bastards. They had pictures –" Nagi's arms tightened round him. "It wasn't her. I know it wasn't." He hated how forlorn he sounded.

"I care about you," Nagi said. "You know that. You were both legitimised, your grandfather still had friends untouched by scandal that he could have counted on for marriage alliances – there were people who cared, Mamoru, even if your father's enemies had outflanked them. There's nothing to gain by executing a child or by making her disappear. Really, Mamoru." He slid a hand down Mamoru's back, murmuring, "This is a sad topic of conversation. How can I cheer you up?"

"Join my family," Mamoru said, the words escaping before he'd properly even thought them.

"What?" Nagi said, his expression perplexed.

Mamoru kissed him to stop them both thinking, horrified he should have said such a thing without careful planning. Nagi seemed to think it had been some sort of odd joke, for he didn't demand an explanation, just clutched Mamoru tighter against him.

"Don't be gentle," Nagi said urgently, as if he thought Mamoru's demons would be exorcised through lack of restraint.

It worked, at least for a while, Mamoru thought afterwards, lying gasping and exhausted on the sweat soaked sheets, his arms wrapped tight around Nagi's waist, his chest pressed against Nagi's back, feeling every harsh breath Nagi took. "I love you," he said, his face pressed into the back of Nagi's neck. Nagi squeezed his hand hard, then wriggled round to face him.

"Don't ever think this isn't real," he said, kissing him. "Not ever."


* * *


It was a full week later before Mamoru had the thought straight in his mind. He turned it over and over, looking at it from every side, polishing it and thinking how he would express it. He wanted Nagi to join his family, and just needed the right words to say it convincingly. It had been no more than an idle whim on board the Tsubame Maru born of loneliness and the urge to form a link with Nagi it would be hard to break. It had flown from his mind once they had some measure of peace on Alcmene but was back now, full force. You're just upset about your niece, he imagined Nagi saying. It was true, at least in part, Mamoru had to admit. There's more to it than that, he thought, countering Nagi's imagined skepticism. I want the family to grow again. I want your place to be acknowledged. He rubbed his eyes wearily. What Nagi was to him was no secret any more. All the staff that had come from the
Empire knew, and he had to suppose the catering and cleaning staff at least had suspicions. Maybe not, he thought. They would surely have run to the tabloids if they had a story to sell. He paused, annoyed at his own prejudices, and reminded himself that Alliance citizens could act decently. He was sure he'd been less prejudiced at home.

If there was disapproval amongst his staff, it was directed at Nagi, as Nagi himself had predicted. The braver of the staff sometimes looked as if they were longing to give their opinions, but so far nothing had been said aloud. Mamoru had taken to smiling widely at Nagi, and making a point of walking with him companionably when the evening breeze was pleasant. He didn't think such public actions were having their intended effect. Surreptitious glares still came Nagi's way; his response was to withdraw further into cool silence that brooked no approach from anyone save Mamoru. It would have to be sorted out, Mamoru thought, before his days became any more strained.

"Ito-san," he said one morning, interrupting his secretary as he laid out the day's schedule. "What do the staff think of Lt Naoe?"

Ito's slight smile was polite as always. "All the staff respect him a great deal, Takatori-sama," he said. He pushed forward a print-out, continuing, "Ishikawa-san's estimate of what we can spend on the Children's Festival."

"He's a good person," Mamoru said.

"Yes, I believe he achieved a very high grade in university," Ito said.

Mamoru frowned in puzzlement. "I mean Lt Naoe, not Ishikawa-san," he said. "I mean, they're both good people."

"Yes, sir," Ito said.

"Never mind," Mamoru muttered, picking up the print-out. "Let me see those figures."

He tried again with Hayashi.

"Lt Naoe," he started. "What do you think of him?"

"A very quiet young man and a diligent servant of the state," Hayashi said, as if this was a question he had been expecting. Ito had been talking, Mamoru supposed, or Hayashi had assumed his opinion would be sought sooner or later.

"He has never treated me badly," Mamoru said. This was something he had prepared, but it still made him blush. Damn it, he thought. "I owe him a great deal," he said.

"There are some things no one owes another," Hayashi said, looking very straight at Mamoru and sounding as if he wanted him to recall some personal dignity.

"That's not –" Mamoru started, then paused. He supposed it did sound like he'd just said he was sleeping with Nagi in return for favourable treatment. Stupid, he admonished himself, glaring down at his desk. "I've known him for some time," he settled on. "No one could hope for someone better to help them bear unfortunate circumstances." Hayashi was retreating, he saw, from the conversational pitfall. "He's both efficient and personable," Mamoru said quickly.

"A most efficient young man, yes," Hayashi said, the lightest touch of venom in his voice.

"I find him personable," Mamoru said. Hayashi was looking at him oddly, wondering perhaps if some plea was being made. "He's a very great help to me."

"Takatori-sama," Hayashi said, sounding a little helpless. Mamoru wondered if he should be proud he could confront an experienced diplomat with such an unexpected situation. There was a silence that neither of them, it seemed, wished to break. "Did you want to practice your conversational skills?" Hayashi said at last.

"Yes," Mamoru sighed, wondering if perhaps he needed to use a new language to say what he wanted. "Yes, why not?"


* * *


"Kishida-san has received more requests for me to talk to schools," Mamoru said, sitting in his private rooms, trying to ignore the entertainment broadcast. "I was thinking I'd agree –"

"Let Kishida talk to them. Or Martin, she enjoys that sort of thing," Nagi said, not shifting his eyes from the screen. "Look at that man," he said, exasperated, "He's not an imperial – there have to be Alliance citizens of imperial ancestry, you'd think they could at least cast their dramatic villains a little more accurately."

"Must you watch this rubbish?" Mamoru said. He sipped at his coffee, feeling a little surprise at how quickly he'd become accustomed to the taste.

A sly grin was there and gone on Nagi's face. "Is it interfering with your desire to be non-prejudiced? Don't worry, I'll turn it off before he ravishes beautiful young nuns or shoots children."

"Children," Mamoru said. "Kishida-san suggested early on that I might talk to a class of children at the Children's Festival."

"What if some young fool decides they'd like to rid the world of an evil imperial?" Nagi said, gesturing at the screen. He turned it off and faced Mamoru, eyebrows raised.

"I'm sure you'd have vetted the children for previous convictions for murder," Mamoru said teasingly. "How about young children?"

"They might bite," Nagi said. "Or give you measles."

"One class," Mamoru wheedled. "It would be good PR." Nagi was giving in, he could tell. "Delightful children, eagerly learning about the empire . . ."

"I'll think about it. You'd have to talk about safe topics."

"With children that shouldn't be a problem. It's not like they'll want to discuss questions of foreign policy."

"Unless they've been coached," Nagi said. "I'll talk to Martin. Happy?"

"Yes," Mamoru said, leaning over to kiss him. "Nagi," he said, looking into Nagi's eyes from close range, "There's something else." Nagi waited as he paused, his face growing suspicious as the silence lengthened. "I was so pleased to find I had a family," Mamoru said. "Surprised to find what family it was, naturally, but pleased. And now they're gone."

"It's not like you ever knew your father or brothers," Nagi said, in what Mamoru supposed was meant to be a consoling manner.

"But I did know some of the family," Mamoru said. "No matter how harmless my enemies might think my niece, you can't tell me they'd be merciful to my grandfather or his concubines."

"That old goat," Nagi muttered. Mamoru privately agreed; he'd been disconcerted by the women's youth and the way they'd whispered together, looking at him.

"You know I want the family to survive," he said. "It needs more than just me, Nagi. What if I died tomorrow?"

"I'd take a terrible revenge," Nagi said promptly. "Then I'd clone you. Or would if we weren't on an Alliance world – Mamoru? That was just a joke. You're not going to die tomorrow." He tugged sharply on Mamoru's hair. "What is it? Come on, tell me."

"I want you to join my family," Mamoru said. "I want you to become a Takatori."

Nagi sat up abruptly. "Proposing so soon?" he said, not quite looking at Mamoru.

"I didn't mean –" Mamoru started. "Nagi," he said carefully, "I'd hoped to be able to offer – not this year, perhaps, but in the years to come – two Takatori bridegrooms to possible allies."

"Oh, now we're discussing your tastes in women," Nagi muttered.

"No! Don't be so – look, you know I can tell the difference between politics and friendship."

"You want me to be your brother?" Nagi said. "Or your son? The press will love this."

"Nagi!" Mamoru said, exasperated. "What's wrong with you? I want you and a successful family, what's so bad about th—"

"You never listen to me about anything, do you?" Nagi cut in. "I'm Psi-Corps, Mamoru. I can't run off and join a traitor's family willy-nilly. Oh, wipe that look off your face, I don't mean you and you know it." He took a deep breath and stood up. "Have you any idea what would happen to us both if we were arrested for treason?" he said. "Suborned Psi-Corps officers make very good object lessons. You'd have it easy in comparison."

"Nagi," Mamoru said, reaching for him. "I'll take your advice, you know that. I just wanted to –" He'd been stupid to bring it up, he thought as his voice trailed off. Stupid. Nagi was looking at him like he was a weak fool.

"Damn it," Nagi said, and knelt by him. "You idiot," he said quietly, with no force behind the words. "Please, think. We have to be totally forgotten. Suppose a ship turned up next year and spies found I was a Takatori? I can't publicly be anything but my own name, you have to see that. Thank you, though. I've never had a family."

"Could you do it privately?" Mamoru said. "If no one knew but us? And a trusted witness?" He wondered if such a person could exist in Nagi's view. Nagi hadn't said no, he realized, and put his arms about him. "Can I ask you again?" he said quietly.

"Not yet," Nagi said, turning away. "Not yet."


* * *


The Children's Festival was sad without any children about, Mamoru thought, glad he was going to the school Nagi had finally approved. He looked out the car window, paying little attention to Martin telling him what she had arranged. He'd be able to greet the children in their own language, hold some simple conversations, and would depend on her to translate the rest. The streets flashed by, hot and white in the sunlight, and he felt himself slipping into a trance, blessedly free from thought. It was better than wishing Nagi had come with him, when he himself had suggested Nagi stay behind. Mamoru groaned inwardly to have the thoughts come rushing back. He hadn't expected to be listened to, any more than he'd expected Nagi to be as easy with him as he'd been before they'd spoken of families. Whether he'd offended him or made him in some way shy, Nagi had barely spoken words to him in private for a week. He'd been professional at least, saying he'd vetted the school, and saw no reason Mamoru couldn't appear harmless and speak to children without a bodyguard. Maybe he was telling Mamoru he trusted him to be circumspect in public.

The car was slowing. "Thank you, Martin-san," Mamoru said automatically. "Ito-san, can you bring in the sweets?"

"Yes, Takatori-sama," Ito said as the car stopped in the grounds of a long, low building.

It was a pity they couldn't have bought better sweets, Mamoru thought. The local ones would just have to do. Dammit, Nagi, he thought as he climbed out of the car. Why can't you just – He stopped, feeling a surprised smile tug at his lips as the teachers and the children selected to greet him stepped forward and executed exaggerated bows. They were wearing colorful, home-made yukatas, and two of the small boys had plastic swords thrust through their obis.

"Lt Naoe will be pleased you are to have security in attendance," Ito said in the barest of whispers.

"Hmm," Mamoru said, suddenly wanting to laugh. He surreptitiously made sure his own yukata was neat, looking at the haphazard way some of the children had fastened theirs.

"Please, they don't know any better," Martin whispered as the smallest and most brightly clad of the girls came forward, bowed so deeply it seemed she might topple over, and held up a bunch of flowers to Mamoru.

"Hello," she said slowly and carefully in the imperial language. "Hello."

"Hello," Mamoru said. "How pretty these are, thank you." He smilingly handed the flowers over to Martin and turned his attention to the teachers.

"Takatori-sama, this is Ms Kalpna, the headmistress," Martin said, indicating a middle-aged, dark-complexioned woman.

"We're so pleased you could come to visit the school, Your Excellency," Ms Kalpna said. "Won't you come in out of the heat?"

"Thank you, yes," Mamoru said, walking beside her, and finding himself flanked by the children, all of whom stared at him curiously. Checking for signs of evil, he imagined Nagi saying.

They went into a hall, and Mamoru found himself faced with some one hundred and fifty children, none older, he guessed, than ten. On one wall images of carp, clearly drawn by the children, were arrayed in a great shoal, while on another the Imperial and the Alliance flags hung peaceably side by side with snacks and sweets were arranged on a long table beneath them. Mamoru wondered what terrible attempts had been made to provide food to make him feel welcome, imagining the children proudly presenting him with the results of cookery classes. A few photographers stood to one side, cameras at the ready, with what he supposed to be some parents milling about, smaller cameras in their hands. He smiled as the headmistress introduced him, Martin whispering a translation quietly beside him, then launched into his carefully-learned speech about the festival, and how it was celebrated in the empire. Was his accent understandable, he wondered? They appeared to be following, at least. When he stopped there was silence at first, the photographers lowering their cameras in boredom. Then the teachers led the children in polite applause, the costumed children taking the opportunity to amuse themselves with more deep bows.

"Thank you, Your Excellency," Ms Kalpna said. "Does anyone have a question for the ambassador?"

Every child in the room put up their hand and began to call out in excitement. What was his name? Did he want to see they could write his name? Could he write out their names? Was it true everyone in the empire only ate raw fish? Where were his swords? Immediately Mamoru knew he'd never be able to answer questions quickly in the local language, and felt he must look overwhelmed by the noise. He thought of how the photographers would sell their pictures and the press would smugly write about repressed imperials overcome by free-spirited children. Well, he thought, he hadn't always had to be a stiff-faced diplomat, or the last son of a desperate great family. The retail trade had its own way of training people in how to deal with the public. The adults in the room are customers, he told himself, and they won't buy anything unless you charm their children. Fortified by the thought, he smiled widely and stepped into the midst of the crowd, Martin following to translate.

"Most people don't wear swords these days," Mamoru said, grinning at one of the costumed children. "Yours look very fine, though." He turned to one of the older children who'd yelled a question about names. "I bet you can't write my name," he said.

"I can so!" she said, pulling out a tablet and stylus. "Look!"

"Not bad," he conceded. "Here, I'll write yours – this is how we write non-imperial words –"

He chatted with the children, ate the food with every indication of enjoyment, talked eagerly and sincerely with the teachers about cultural exchange, and complimented the parents who had made their children yukatas to wear. It was far more pleasant to pretend he was a shop worker than to pretend he was a diplomat, he decided. There were fewer ways to fail if he were just a shop assistant.

He felt he had exhausted not only himself but all possible areas of conversation, when he felt a tug on his sleeve, and looked down to see the child who had first greeted him.

"My name's Sarah," she informed him.

"Hello, Sarah," he said. "My name's Mamoru."

"Ms Kalpna said you'd tell us a story," she said expectantly.

Mamoru looked over at Martin to make sure he'd understood her correctly. "A story," he said, trying to think of childhood books.

"Mr Takatori has already told us stories about the festival," Ms Kalpna said gently.

"It's all right," he said, one coming back to him at last. "I'll tell a story, only I'll have to tell it in my own language, and Ms Martin can tell you what I'm saying." He sat down, hoping the ending of the story didn't desert him. "Long ago, long ago," he started, "There was an old man and an old woman –" The little girl leaned against him, looking into his face as he spoke. When he finished he discovered the room had grown quiet, and the photographers were lowering their cameras, with satisfied expressions.

Everyone seemed pleased with the afternoon's work as they made their goodbyes, the children waving and bowing as the car pulled away. Mamoru sat back and closed his eyes, trying to will himself back into his current life. It was hard to put away his former self again, to forget how things had once been. If his grandfather had never found him – Mamoru straightened up and adopted a carefully blank expression. There was no point in thinking like that, things were as they were and had to be accepted. He stayed quiet till they were back in the embassy compound, where he sent Ito and Martin home. There wasn't enough work to justify them staying. There wasn't enough work to justify him going to his office either, but he did, and read through paperwork till he could no longer avoid going to his apartments. At least even his current circumstances he lived better than he had, he thought, remembering his tiny flat and how his grandfather had looked at it in disdain. You are better than this, boy.

"You should have left me as I was," he muttered. Families were chancy things, and he'd been better off without one. To give him just enough of a taste of a family to know he wanted desperately for more was cruel. On cue, the door opened and Nagi came in.

"You survived."

"Yeah," Mamoru said, and sat in front of the screen. Watching a broadcast would fill the silence, he thought. Nagi had probably said all he was going to say for the night. He flicked through channels looking for something simple enough to follow, then frowned and went back to an image of a brightly-dressed child. There was some footage from the school of him smiling and talking to children, his speech at the start.

"You wave your hands around too much," Nagi said from beside him.

"I was trying not to seem stiff and unapproachable," Mamoru said, a little annoyed that Nagi should suddenly feel he had to give voice to a critique after been so silent so long. The image froze on a still of him telling his stupid story, looking down as the small girl looked up at him intently. "The something of the Empire," he read. "What does it say?"

"The human face of the Empire," Nagi said. "At least they didn't put a question mark after that," he added sardonically.

"Yeah," Mamoru said. "Breaking news: Imperial ambassador revealed not to eat babies."

"Lord Mamoru Takatori entertains a class of schoolchildren on a festival day," Nagi read on.

Mamoru winced. "Great. Let's hope that inflation of my status doesn't get back to my enemies."

There was a light touch on his hair, then Nagi put an arm about him, as if he thought his telekinesis weren't enough. "You sound less optimistic than when you were setting out," he said.

"Long day. Noisy kids," Mamoru said shortly. Then, "Homesickness," he said. "I used to work near a school, before my family found me. The shop was always full of schoolchildren."

"I know," Nagi said. "It was in your file, your shop, situated near a girls' school. You mean you miss being surrounded by girls." He sounded determinedly amused, so Mamoru risked looking up.

"They were mainly there for my co-workers. I was a late bloomer."

"Ouch," Nagi winced. "Bad pun, flower-seller." He bent to touch his lips to Mamoru's. "I don't know if you've noticed," he said, "But I can be a bad-tempered, sulky sort of person. I didn't mean to add to your troubles."

"Don't be stupid," Mamoru said, putting a hand on the back of his neck so he couldn't escape. "I've noticed no such thing." It felt good to kiss Nagi again. "I'm done being maudlin," he murmured.

"Good," Nagi said. "Me too. No more homesickness. You are home, you hear me?"

"Yes," Mamoru said, holding on tight. "I hear you."


* * *