Dance Little Liar

A/N: You know, actually I never planned on doing Kisuke as the other perspective, it had always been Yoruichi. However a lot of people seemed to think the other one was going to be him, so it got me thinking and I decided that I did in fact want to do it. So, this story will now be a three parter showing all three perspectives. The final part being Yoruichi. Kisuke’s is more of a drabble and quite a bit shorter than the other two perspectives. I want to make everyone’s inner thoughts different because they’re all vastly different characters, and I wanted to stay true to that, Plus I wanted to show more aspects into how someone might deal with a situation like this.

Special, special thanks to my lovely reviewers. You have no idea how much you mean to me.

Alternating Perspectives

The spot next to me in my bed is empty.

It wasn’t a surprise the first time it happened some hundred and fifty years ago, and it certainly isn’t a surprise now.

I turn over onto my side and look at the place she had once been laying. There’s no reason for it, no act that I have to withhold in the privacy of my own room, but I smile anyway. It’s as forced as it always is but to me it’s the most natural thing in the world.

I know where she’s gone to, just as I have always known, and I would like to quote the dramatic prose of brilliant and naïve writers who say that the pain does not get easier with time, but they have not lived as long as I have, and it does.

It gets easier and easier to deal with every time it happens. Or perhaps I just don’t notice it that much any more, but either way, that is what acceptance does to a person.

I at least know without a shadow of a doubt that I’m fairing much better than the other side of the Yoruichi’s triangle, but then again, I was the one who came first. I had to watch as a bit of her was taken away from me, a certain little captain, never had my piece to begin with.

Yoruichi and I had known each other for years, had known each other’s touch for years, before she even met Soi Fong, and I was the one who stood by and watched as my lover’s eyes lingered on the young girl longer than necessary, and her touches strayed past platonic, until finally Yoruichi was leaving my bed for her’s.

And I let it happen.

Without a single moment of complaint, I let it happen, because I love her.

It’s wrapped in lies and condescension and regret, but it’s there, just as vibrant as it has always been.

And when you love someone as much as I love her, you learn to share.

At least that’s what I tell myself to make things easier.

I don’t believe Soi Fong has figured that out yet.

As much as I want to hate the little bitch as much as I know she hates me, for taking away even a fraction of what’s supposed to be mine, I can’t bring myself to do it, because her love is just as present as my own and I’ve been too selfish with other things in my life to be selfish now.

Perhaps this is my own way of making amends for the things I cannot take back.

With the world constantly falling around by my ears, and somehow myself always being the source behind it, I don’t pretend that I have the right to greedily covet something away.

Especially if that something shines as bright as Yoruichi.

Still, sometimes I like to think I hate her, just a little bit.

Though we’ve never openly discussed it, just as I know she’s never discussed it with her other little lover,
we all know what’s going on. Yoruichi knows just as well as we do that even though she may have her legs
wrapped around us, we’re wrapped far more tightly around her finger. If I didn’t know any better, I would just think she was playing with us for the pure enjoyment of it. Sometimes, when I’m feeling a little more bitter than usual and the sake’s not doing its job, I still think that.
It’s in those moments that I also think, despite the fact that I hold seniority, it is Soi Fon who will win in the end. That one day when Yoruichi leaves my bed she will leave it forever and I will be left with a pain that is no more lessened by the fact that I knew it all along.

I’m sure Soi Fon believes it to be the opposite. She’s so far wrapped up in her own insecurities that she doesn’t realize that she may hold more cards than I do.

I sort of feel like the first wife discarded for the younger trophy and that thought alone makes me chuckle into my pillow despite everything, because one thing I know is that Yoruichi has always had the ability to make me laugh.

I do have to wonder why she does this though. Why she can’t just let one of us go and end this once and for all. Is it selfishness that drives her or something else? I never try too hard to think about Yoruichi making a final decision because I’m not sure if I’ll actually like the end result. I’ve been told that I make brilliant deductions, and though I’m truly only a fool in the guise of a genius I think on this one the hypothesis might match up to the conclusion.

Other times I wonder if I should just let her go after all. If I should just hang up my hat and admit defeat, but I toy with that thought even less than all the others because I know it’s ridiculous. I’m no more ready to give her up as she is to give up this game, which is why I’m a willing piece in her puzzle.

I’m sure for Soi Fon it is the same.

Actually the thought that I linger on the most is the idea that maybe we could learn to share her in a different way. Maybe we don’t have to share at all, maybe we could learn to tolerate each other and we could both have her openly. Maybe Yoruichi could learn to share us as much as we share her. It’s not as if Soi Fon is unattractive and despite my resentment towards her and her loathing towards me, we probably understand how the other feels more than anyone else. Plus, maybe it’s what Yoruichi truly wants. To have both of us in her arms together.

I really can be an idiot sometimes.

A fool wrapped in lies that are not always my own.

The world is imperfect.

I know that better than anyone.

Soi fon couldn’t come to me, just as much as I couldn’t bare to see her touch what is mine in front of my face.

Not yet, at least.

I grab the pillow next to me and bury my face into it.

It smells like her still.