Part III, Chapter Five: Aurius Is Hopelessly Gone

Part III: Zhian

"Is it more foolish to fall in love, or to pull oneself out of it?" --Zhi poet, c. 890 AE

April 17, 1112 AE
Shouchuen Keep, Shouchuen, Zhian

If there was one thing Aurius had noticed about Takamari over the years, it was that her greetings had grown increasingly amorous with the time she had spent away from her husband. At first, she had nodded. Then she had smiled. Waves, embraces... now, a peck on the cheek. At first he'd thought it was just him, and maybe she was warming up to him, but Lord Takahashu and Lady Shia had mentioned a similar observation. She had been a caged bird for too long and was only now beginning to flex her wings.

"Takamari," he acknowledged her. "Here to pick up the boy?"

She smiled. "I hope I'm not late."

"Sun's still up, isn't it?" Aurius insisted. "You know Lady Shia doesn't mind--besides, it's healthy to take some time for yourself every once in a while."

Really, it was more than every once in a while... but hell, when he first met her, he would have never guessed he'd one day see her so happy. He didn't know what she did when she left the baby with her sister-in-law, but whatever it was, it was doing wonders. She looked almost like a different person; she looked so much younger.

So much like...

Aurius shook his head, then grimaced. "Say, Takamari... have you recieved any--?"

She cut him off with a resigned sigh--just as she had every time he'd asked in the past two years. Was he an idiot for hoping that he might get a different response one of these times? "Aurius, if I'd heard anything, I would have told you."

I would have told you. She would have. And she hadn't. In two years, Maru had never written back; if she hadn't by now, she never would.

And yet, he kept on waiting and hoping. "Am I a complete ass for thinking she might write back one day?"

"Probably, but there are worse sorts of men out there." Takamari paused with a sniff as she fiddled with the gold band around her finger. Aurius wondered why she still wore it; perhaps over the years, her fingers had swollen to the point where she had no choice. "My daughter's a lucky woman to have been loved by somebody like you, I think. I can't say I understand why she wouldn't reply."

"Well, thank you for the sentiment." Maybe it was simply because she'd never felt the same way? It was true that she had never told him otherwise; every time he'd admitted his love for her, she'd hastily changed the subject. Some vain part of him had assumed she'd only been afraid, but the thought seemed petty self-flattery now. If he had any sense at all, he would have walked right up to the maid's pretty daughter and asked if she cared to join him for a drink--it had been damn well long enough.

But he didn't. He was so hopelessly gone. It made even less sense than continually whoring himself out to Kinea--if nothing else, that had at least had some practical benefits. There was nothing practical about Maru, or the way he felt about her. It was painful and humiliating and almost disgusting how obsessed he was, and not practical at all.

But it gave him hope. If nothing else, he had the hope.

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