YnM Fanfiction

Sakura

Written by Calis

Disclaimer: YnM belongs to Yoko Matsushita-sensei

Chapter One: Enigma of a Dream

His left eye was badly swollen and the cut was still bleeding, making him see everything through a bloody red-tinted haze. Oriya picked himself up from the dust gingerly, almost falling a few times before he managed to stand on unsteady feet. He was hurting all over and he knew for certain he was no pretty sight, all bruised and battered. They had been waiting for him, setting up the perfect ambush spot in the back alley that led to the apartment where he stayed alone. Senior school bullies that picked on him and taunted him as a sissy.

Oriya hated it all.

He hated his school, his classmates, his life in Tokyo and most of all he hated his family and the silly traditions that were forced upon him. Oriya was fully aware of what went on beneath the farce that was Kokakurou. He wanted to laugh but grimaced in pain instead when the muscles of his bruised cheek protested. Who was he fooling? Oriya Mibu was no young master of one of the oldest culinary house in Kyoto; he was nothing but a whoremaster's son.

He had stood out like a sore thumb in the exclusive private high school in Tokyo where only the sons of the rich and privileged attended - A boy with long black hair that was even glossy and finer than a girl's. Neither fish nor fowl, his classmates shunned him and laughed behind his back while the senior students looked upon him as a means of entertainment.

They had been rougher this time, almost using him as a punching bag but Oriya had given as good as he got. His pride would not allow anything less. It had also became an excuse to vent out his frustrations so he fought no matter what the odds were. He would never give in because doing that would only add the ring of truth to the derision bestowed upon him.

Oriya stumbled around a little unsteadily, trying to see as best as he could with one good eye obstructed by the heavy tresses in front of his face. His body reminded him of its abuse with every action he made, agony made sure he kept his movement to a minimal as he search for his bag. Hinder by his impaired vision and the gathering twilight, Oriya went down in a sprawl, tripped by the very thing he was trying to find. As his consciousness slip away, Oriya thought he heard someone say.

" Are you alright? "

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a nice soothing feeling as warm water flow down his body. A gentle pressure traced a path down from his chest towards his waist, lightly rubbing against his skin. Oriya stirred a little when he felt the pressure against a bruise or a scrape but he did not wake, contend to remain in the pleasant hazy state a step away from full consciousness. There was a brief but sure tug and the long woven cord that bound the long ebony tresses fell away, releasing the heavy silken waves into waiting hands.

Those hands wove their fingers into the midnight strands as if the silken locks were skeins on a loom. They caressed and stroked, touch after touch coaxing the dirt from the lustrous mass with warm water even as they skillfully massaged his scalp in lather. Oriya used to dislike having the servants wash his hair immensely as they were always too rough, grabbing and yanking until he felt as if they were trying their best to pull out his hair out by the roots. Yet this time, he enjoyed the ministration even as the rich exotic scent of amber blended with the sensuous scent of rose, jasmine and orange blossoms assaulted his senses. Oriya's nose flared at the lush fragrance but those knowing hands allayed the mild alarm, lulling him until he lay pliant once more.

" Relax... "

The voice was soft; a low rich baritone and it spoke the word like a sibilant whisper lightly skimming the edge of his consciousness. A sigh brush his tender face like a kiss as someone bend over him. Oriya tried to open his eyes to see the face that he knew was inches from his own but a strange lethargy swept over him leaving him with the will but not the strength. Water was poured carefully poured over his head to rinse out the suds but the scent was not so easily washed away, lingering faintly in the air. The same hands that have tended to his hair now traced the shape of his face, lightly turning his head from side to side.

" Such a pity... luckily the bruises will fade, " Then as if contemplating, the beautiful sonorous male voice paused before continuing. " But those cuts need to be tended to though and I don't enjoy the idea of hurting you more. "

Oriya felt the briefest brush of warm velvet lips upon his brow, a feather-light stroke against his skin. He yearned to response but was denied by a soft amused chuckle.

" Sleep and dream... "

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

" Young sir, please wake up. We have reached your residence. "

Someone was shaking him, telling him to wake up and Oriya mumbled some unintelligible curses in return. He was nice and comfortable and he wanted to continue snoozing in the pleasant state that he was in. Unfortunately, the other party did not seem to comprehend that and shook him again with more force this time.

" WHAT! " Oriya snarled.

His dark hazel eyes snapped open and he was momentarily stunned to discover himself in a car that was parked right outside the classy apartment building where he lived. Oriya looked around him and noticed that he was sitting on the luxurious fawn leather seats of a classic black Bentley. The last thing he remembered was being involved in a brawl with the school bullies and now here he was outside his home in a vehicle that bespoke of wealth. Bewildered, Oriya almost wanted to pinch himself to make sure that he was no dreaming. A polite cough got his attention and he turned to see a middle-aged man dressed neatly in a butler's uniform standing beside the open door.

" Young sir, I am Tamura I apologize for waking you but I have been instructed by the Young Master to sent you back to your residence. Are you well enough to go upstairs alone or should I accompany you? "

The man bowed in deference.

Oriya blinked and shook his head, clearing his hazy head. He realized with a start suddenly that he was not wearing his school uniform but was dressed in a white robe. Fighting down a surge of panic, Oriya glanced around frantically and the familiar sight of his battered black bag on the seat beside him was a welcome sight. Grabbing his bag, Oriya got out of the car hastily and flinched when the sudden action reminded him of the thrashing he had recently suffered.

" Ah, have a care, sir. Our Young Master did not help you to have you injure yourself again. " Tamura said as he took hold of one of Oriya's hand, supporting the unsteady youth.

" What... what... happened to me? "

" Young Master found you unconscious and brought you home for treatment. Though young, he already shows great promise as a doctor. I believe he will be just as great a doctor as his grandfather had been. " Pride was evident in the butler's voice as he explained.

" I see... and what about my clothes? " Oriya pointed to the soft white robe he now wore.

" Unfortunately, we couldn't do much to salvage your clothes. They were quite beyond repair, which is why we had taken the liberty of providing you with the robe, young sir. "

" Thank you and I'm sorry for shouting at you just now. "

" No apologies needed, young sir. I understand how you feel perfectly. "

Tamura followed Oriya, walking behind him until they came to the door of his apartment. Oriya fumbled a little, digging around in his bag until his hand closed upon the shape of the key. Opening the door, he almost entered the house with a profound sense of relief to be in familiar surroundings again. Having seen to the task, Tamura bowed politely and departed. Left alone, Oriya rested his forehead against the closed door. It had been extremely unnerving to find himself with a memory lapse.

Oriya crossed over to the balcony just in time to see the gleaming black car pull away below. Everything that had happened after his fight remained a blur despite his efforts to remember and trying too hard was only giving him a headache. Clenching his fist in mute frustration, Oriya turned to head back into his apartment, thinking that a good sleep would do him good. As he was about to step over the threshold, a breeze stirred the strands of his jet-black hair summoning the elusive ghost of a scent reminiscence of a fusion of amber, rose, jasmine and orange blossoms. Touching the neat dressings on his arm and face, Oriya could not help but wonder.

Just who was this young master?

Author's note:

Just a short one on the scent... it's Obsession by Calvin Klein. Fits Muraki, don't you think so? Can't believe I actually went searching for information on men's perfume....