The Winds of Heaven

Dichromic (3/3)

Thu, 18 Sep 2008 03:10:39 GMT

Title: Dichromic (3/3)
Characters: Tomite, Takiko
Word count: 1325
Rating: G
notes: I lied. This would be a loosely related part 3 of Purple & Grey (which is an annoying title and hereby changed to Dichromic).
summary: Takiko confronts Tomite. Kind of definitely Tomite x Takiko. Part 1 Part 2

"Tomite, you haven't seemed yourself lately," Takiko perched herself on a stump beside him. He'd been in a bit of a grump since that day she and Rimudo had come across him at the lake.

Tomite, from where he sat on the ground, shrugged.

She waited patiently for him to say something. Tomite always had something to say.

He plucked absently at his new bowstring. It thrummed in response. "I don't want to talk about it," he said quietly.

Takiko held back a frown. "Remember when I said I was worried about Hikitsu? If you keep acting like this...." She threw her hands in the air. "I don't know what's going on anymore Tomite. Whatever it is, I'm finding it very concerning," she admitted.

Tomite continued to stare at the bow in his hands. "It's nothing you need to worry about. I'll still be able to protect you, no matter what,"

"This isn't about me, Tomite. It never has been. You deserve to be happy, and to see you being so unlike yourself makes me upset," She mentally berated herself for not sounding upset at all, but he'd been aggravatingly gloomy for much too long. He needed some firm words.

Tomite cast a glum look at her from the corner of his eye. "You getting upset just makes me feel even worse about it all,"

Takiko clasped her hands tightly in her lap. She really didn't want to bring this up, but if that's what it took to set him straight... "Tomite," she said sternly. "If this is because of me and Rimudo, or because you can't let go of some... some crush or whatever it is you feel for me-"

"It's not that!" Tomite cut her off. "Please, I just have other things I need to think about,"

Takiko felt both embarrassed and hurt. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't make assumptions,"

"No, I'm sorry Takiko, I didn't mean to-" Tomite turned to look at her pleadingly. "You are beautiful, and amazing, and-" he took a breath, and stared at her, mouth open for a moment, before he abruptly sat away from her. "Forgive me, I always say stupid things. You shouldn't waste your time worrying over me." He buried his face in his arms.

His words chilled her. "Why?" Takiko tried to keep her demanding tone in check. She moved to sit down beside him, resting a questioning hand on his arm. "Why would you say that? Tomite, you are such a good person. This isn't normal for you! Why are you so angry at yourself?"

She felt him tense at her words.

He mumbled something into his sleeves. "Angry at myself?" she thought she heard.

She nodded, though he couldn't see her face, and let a fond smile creep onto her face. "When you're angry at other people you usually just yell at them. I really think you'd feel better if you talked about what was bothering you."

He sighed. In defeat? She hoped so.

"I want to be angry at someone else, but I guess it is just me,"

Takiko nodded encouragingly, rubbing a soothing hand along his shoulder. "What are you angry about?"

"I don't want to talk about it," His tone was a warning not to press it any further.

She pursed her lips and withdrew her hand. "Well, then. Hatsui wanted to show me some herbs he found. How about I go with him, and when I get back you are either back to yourself, or we have a long chat, and we will talk about it." She'd let him off the hook for now. He still seemed to be thinking of this whole "angry at himself" aspect, but if he didn't fix this attitude, he was going to get a wake up call.

He looked nervous at the thought of her possibly beating words out of him. "Really, I can work this out myself. There's just a lot to try and make sense of."

"Is it something to do with Hikitsu?" The two of them had been walking wide circles around each other lately as well. The look of stunned embarrassment on Tomite's face answered her question.

"You two have been friends for a long time, right?" She continued. He'd clamped his mouth shut, but if she was onto something, then she'd do her best to advise him at least. "If you two are fighting, you need to talk about it,"

He shook his head. "I definitely will not ask him,"

"I could try talking to him for you, if you want,"

He gave her a wide-eyed stare. "That would be even worse! Please, Takiko, I... I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I really don't want anyone involved,"

"Is it so bad that you can't trust me?"

He paused before answering. "Yes,"

Takiko was not impressed. "Fine. I'll go ask him," She stood up quickly, and was shocked when Tomite jumped to his feet as well.

"You can't!"

"I absolutely will, since you're being such a stubborn mule about this," She whirled around on her heel, but he caught her by the wrist. She turned her head to glare at him. "Let g-" she faltered at the lost expression on his face.

"Please, Takiko," His mouth worked, trying to pick his words. "I still love you, you know that right? I always will," Both their faces flushed a matching pink, but he continued speaking. "Please just let this be. If you do talk to Hikitsu please just remember that you are always most important to me,"

She blinked. What on earth was going on? Her mind jumped to the worst possible scenario: Hikitsu was going to give up on being a Seishi. Had he asked Tomite to leave too? Maybe it was best not to get involved with what was going on between them. She could trust Tomite to make the best decision.

"Fine," she pulled her hand away, and he released her with only the slightest resistance. "But if you don't sort it out between yourselves soon, I will start asking questions,"

"Thank you," he breathed. Takiko turned to leave.

"Wait," He stopped her again, reaching out to hold her shoulders in a gentle grip. "Could I please..." He stepped closer.

She tensed. "What, Tomite-"

"I need to see..." He pulled her into a hug, and she squeaked in mild surprise.

"Tomite?"

He said nothing, just held her gently, his arms wrapped around her tiny frame. She waited a moment, and then reached around to return the embrace.

He squeezed her lightly, and then stepped back.

"I'm sorry, I just-"

"It's okay," she clasped her hands in front of her, and looked at her toes. Her face was still burning. "Do you feel better?"

He laughed. A heartening sound, and she realised how much she'd missed it these past few days. "Yes, thank you, I think I'll be able to figure this all out,"

She looked up, and returned his wide smile. "I'm glad,"

He ran a hand through his hair. "Is Hatsui still waiting for you?"

"I'm sure he is. Will you come back with me?"

"Yeah," He stood still, hesitating for a moment, then offered his arm. "Would you walk with me, Lady Priestess," he asked, voice full of mock formality.

"But of course, Shichi Seishi Tomite," She rested her hand in the crook of his elbow, and with matching, easy-going smiles, they walked arm in arm toward camp.

Takiko wondered at the immediate change. He whistled a light tune, and slowed his long strides to match hers, instead of making impatient remarks.

"Did you decide on something?" She asked slowly, scared of ruining his sudden good mood.

"I think so. I might try talking to Hikitsu later,"

"Good," He blushed when she beamed at him. "I will always trust you to make the right choice. You have a good heart. I'm sure Hikitsu will accept whatever you say,"

He laughed awkwardly. "I hope you're right,"

Takiko's smile faded. She really hoped so too. If he left, if she lost him, and his easy smiles and refreshing laughter... She really hoped he made a good decision.

Dichromic (2/3)

Tue, 09 Sep 2008 14:15:45 GMT

Title: Grey and Purple
Characters: Tomite, Takiko, Hikitsu, Rimudo
Word Count: 1460
Rating: PG for a bad word :P
Links: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Notes: In which Tomite overreacts, Takiko wants to help but Rimudo is thankfully distracting, and Hikitsu tries to fix things.

This was some awful, cruel joke. Tomite was sure of it. Everyone must be back at the campsite having a good laugh at awkward Tomite, Tomite who ran away from everything, Tomite who had dreams of soft grey eyes and long white-blond hair and pale skin that came only from the Kan tribe—

Tomite felt sick, and was relieved he hadn’t found Takiko here at the lake as he’d expected. The only person he could see was a lone fisherman mending nets way off on the far shore.

He squatted down at the water’s edge, face buried in his hands. Why had Hikitsu done that? If he’d been peering into Tomite’s thoughts and memories, if this was a cruel joke, Tomite wasn’t sure he’d be able to look any of them in the face again. He doubted he could survive the mortification that would come with Rimudo’s taunting, or the sad, confused look he’d see on Takiko.

“Fuck,” he hissed. Why would Hikitsu do that? He tried to clear his mind, but the lapping of the dark water at his feet, and the stubborn warmth that clung to his lips made it impossible. His heart sank as he heard a pair of footsteps crunching over the rough sand towards him, and wanted to die when Takiko’s surprised voice met his ears.

“Tomite?”

“Why are you over here?” Rimudo asked. Tomite did not even want to know what look had to be on his face to match such a dry tone, but he raised his head to at least look at Takiko. And regretted it. She looked like she’d been thoroughly ravished, cheeks flushed pink, long black hair slightly mussed, and lips an impossibly rosy red. Rimudo was holding her hand as though he owned her, and looked less than thrilled to have come across Tomite.

“Um...” Genbu save him. He couldn’t think of any reason for being here besides ‘Hikitsu tried to kiss me and I ran away’.

“Tomite,” Takiko said worriedly, extracting her fingers from Rimudo’s to kneel beside Tomite. “Are you okay?”

Tomite just looked at her. It was impossible to lie and say he was fine. But admitting there was a problem would encourage a frightening level of involvement. Tomite wanted no one involved. In fact, he just wanted there to be no problem at all.

“Don’t worry about me!” Tomite forced a smile and hoped his ragged nerves didn’t make him vomit on the Priestess. “I’ll be fine,”

Takiko looked unconvinced. “You look green,” she stated.

Tomite did not reply, and continued to hold the grimace-smile on his face. She huffed and stood away from him. “We’re heading back for lunch, maybe you should come,” she offered as Rimudo reclaimed her tiny hand.

“I’m not hungry,”

“Hikitsu told me he was going to make some stewed rabbit. Maybe it’ll help you feel better?” she pressed.

Tomite’s face burned at the mention of the other man. Why on earth did Takiko have to care so much? Hikitsu was an excellent cook, and he really did like stew... Was Hikitsu setting this all up on purpose? “That’s okay,” Tomite dismissed it.

“Leave him be,” Rimudo said to Takiko with a roll of his eyes, gently leading her back in the direction of camp. “You, however, need to keep up your energy. Let’s get you lunch,”

“Mm,” Takiko’s lips formed a concerned line as she cast one last glance at Tomite before letting her feet follow Rimudo through the trees.

Tomite watched them leave, suddenly awash with dread. Takiko would surely ask Hikitsu if he knew what was going on. And what would he say?

Tomite bounced on his toes, nervous and undecided. Letting a feeling of self-loathing settle over him, Tomite decided to continue with the cowards way out. He’d stay here and hope they all forgot about him.

“Wow, that smells fantastic,” Takiko leaned over the simmering pot to get a better sniff and flashed Hikitsu an appreciative smile.

“It won’t be too long until it’s ready,” he said, continuing to stir it in wide circles.

“By the way,” Takiko straightened up. “Do you know what’s wrong with Tomite? We saw him by the lake and he looked upset,” She noticed Hikitsu paused what he was doing.

“Did he say anything?”

“No,” Takiko said wryly. "Honestly, for normally being such an open book, he was very tight-lipped. I was thinking he’d talk to you though. Would you go see him?”

She almost thought he looked uncomfortable at her suggestion, but the expression vanished as he replied with a simple “If you think it’s best, Priestess,”

He tapped the long wooden ladle against the rim of the pot and handed it to Rimudo. “Keep stirring it til it’s done,” he instructed, and then set off down the narrow trail through the forest to the lake.

Takiko turned her attention to a perplexed Rimudo, who was looking at the spoon in his hand.

“Really now,” Takiko smiled through her mock exasperation. “Don’t tell me you can’t cook. It’s just soup,” she chided as she snatched it from him and began stirring the pot.

“But it’s Hikitsus soup,” he slid over to place his hands on her waist. “We don’t want to ruin it,” he spoke into her ear.

Takiko blushed and slapped him away. “Then don’t distract me. Now, can you go find Hatsui? He’ll want some lunch too...”

Hikitsu walked slowly. He had no idea how to excuse himself, or how to make Tomite want to talk to him ever again. But as it always is when you’re dreading something, Tomite’s sulking form came into view long before he’d even started to pick his words.

He stood behind him, but Tomite did not move from his hunched position, or speak to acknowledge his arrival. The cold shoulder make Hikitsu feel numb. He really hadn’t meant for Tomite to react so negatively- rather the opposite, although that rose-coloured vision of the future was fading fast.

“Tomite,” Hikitsu started. Tomite visibly tensed, and inwardly Hikitsu cursed himself for making such a mess of things. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to upset you,”

Tomite snorted and made no further response.

Hikitsu sighed and sat down beside him. “I really am sorry, Chamka,” He was struck by the chilling thought that maybe he wasn’t allowed to use that overly-familiar name anymore. “I have no excuse for my actions,”

Tomite finally turned to fix him with an unimpressed glower. “You’d better have a good excuse if I ask you why you did that,”

Hikitsu dearly hoped Tomite did not ask such a question any time soon. He very much doubted he’d be able to say something that would not either offend or distress Tomite further. He could turn the tables instead: “And if I ask you why you’re so upset in the first place?”

“Hmm,” Tomite sounded reluctant to tackle that question himself.

Hikitsu let himself feel relieved that they had reached this stalemate at least. They sat in silence, and Hikitsu noticed the choppy waters of the lake. He grimaced at such an obvious display of his own unease. He forced a few slow breaths, and the surface of the lake stilled. A little.

“Did Takiko make you come here?” Tomite asked quietly. He’d probably noticed the change in the water.

“Yes. She likes to worry about us all,”

Hikitsu wondered if he’d said something wrong because Tomite fell silent again.

The silence held before he quietly added: “She doesn’t know why you’re upset, or what I did,”

“Do any of them know?” Tomite asked, voice low and nervous.

“No,”

And there was silence again. Hikitsu’s eyes glanced at Tomite’s hands. He was drawing shapes in the pebbly sand. Tomite really did have beautiful, masculine hands. Strong and tanned and smooth despite the calluses and- Genbu damn him he had a one track mind.

Hikitsu stood up quickly and moved away from Tomite. “Come, we need to go back. I’m not sure Uruki knows how to keep a pot from burning,”

“...rabbit stew?” Tomite looked up from his doodles.

“Your favourite, right?” For a moment Hikitsu felt embarrassed. Tomite’s sceptical expression made him wonder if maybe he was being too obvious and maybe just a little excessive in his pursuit.

But Tomite sighed and stood up. He hooked his thumbs over the yellow sash at his waist. “If Rimudo ruins it, I swear I’ll kill him,” he announced, but there was no heat to his words.

Hikitsu allowed himself a cautious smile as they started walking back, a careful distance between them. Tomite saw it and threw him a scalding glare.

Hikitsu‘s smile widened, and Tomite’s ears burned red. Ah well. At least this was one set back overcome. He’d win over Tomite if it killed him.

Dichromic (1/3)

Mon, 08 Sep 2008 05:26:45 GMT

Title: Dichromic
Characters: Hikitsu, Tomite
Word Count: 743
Rating: PG
Warnings: slash
Links: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Notes: In which Hikitsu is a perv and interrupts Tomite's work.

The constant travelling was taking a toll on the Priestess. And so with her best interests in mind, Hikitsu had suggested they'd all settle for a rest day. Soruen had set up a tent for them to sit under if it rained. Tomite had been only happy to help, even taking the time to show Hatsui how to hammer in the pegs properly. Since then, Hatsui had gone off with Namame in search of new herbs, and Uruki had whisked Takiko away to visit a nearby lake.

Tomite had finally settled himself on the bare ground, with his most precious tools set out before him: a small, sharp knife, a tiny but heavy bag of pointed iron arrow tips, and a second pouch of feathers, waiting to be delicately split and attached to the dozen wooden shafts that would become his new set of arrows.

It was a familiar task, and he worked at it single mindedly. His tanned hands spun each new arrow as it was completed, checking for any flaws.

Upon finishing a third arrow, he noticed Hikitsu.

"...What are you looking at?" Tomite asked, shocked that he hadn't noticed him sooner. How long had he been sitting there?

The other Seishi was sitting a pace or two away, staring at him. Tomite noticed that he shifted his gaze to look at something in the distance.

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"Well stare at someone else while you're thinking," Tomite set back to his work. He rummaged through the little pouch of feathers, selecting two grey hen feathers, and a flashy purple one he'd found in the last village they'd visited.

He was still sliding the spine of one of the grey feathers into place when he stopped to fix Hikitsu with a stern glare. He was still staring!

"Why are you watching me?"

Hikitsu slid his gaze up from Tomite's hands to meet his eyes. "There's not much to do?" He sounded unsure of his answer.

"It's hard to work when you sit there looking at me," Tomite complained.

"It's interesting to watch. You do a very good job,"

Tomite blushed at the compliment. "My dad taught me,"

Hikitsu hummed an acknowledgement.

Tomite waited a moment, until it became clear that Hikitsu was not going to speak, and didn't seem to be in a hurry to leave.

"I'd teach you how to make them, but if there's any mistakes it'll be a huge waste-"

"It doesn't look that difficult to do," Hikitsu moved over to sit beside him, his knee bumping against Tomite's. Tomite passed him a bare arrow shaft hesitantly.

He watched as Hikitsu examined the smooth piece of wood. "I guess I'll show you from the start," Tomite said, moving to pick out three feathers. "The fletching is the most important part, and it has to be lined up perfectly-"

"Chamka," Hikitsu interrupted quietly, putting his hand over Tomite's.

Tomite shivered at both his cool touch, and the way he said his name. "What?"

"There's actually something else I'd much rather do, and it wouldn't risk ruining all your hard work," Hikitsu was leaning in uncomfortably close, but when he tried to move away, Tomite found his hand was held tightly.

"Huh?" Tomite said, unable to think of much beyond how grey and purple suited Hikitsu very well.

He could feel Hikitsu's warm breath on his face, and his single unpatched eye was locked on Tomite's. There was nowhere else to look. Thank Genbu that other eye was still covered up. If Hikitsu could see into his mind--

"I...I-I've still got a lot to work on-" Tomite managed to stutter. He tried to recall what, but he found himself hard pressed to remember what it was he'd just been working on.

"You work too hard. Today is supposed to be a work-free day," Hikitsu was whispering. Tomite could feel the other mans his lips just barely brushing against his own in a ghost of a caress.

Tomite felt like a fist of ice had punched him in the gut. This was so not allowed to happen. This was strictly reserved for unmentionable dreams. Not at all allowed.

He jumped up to his feet and away from Hikitsu in the same movement. "I need to go check on Takiko!" Tomite nearly shouted, eyes wide and stunned and looking at everything except the other man's unreadable face before stiffly spinning on his heel and pelting away towards the lake.

Hikitsu sighed in defeat and flopped onto his back.

"Damn," he groaned. That didn't work at all. He turned his eyes to the sky and began the long process of trying to think of a new way to approach this.

Gentlemen

Mon, 25 Aug 2008 04:12:09 GMT

title: Gentlemen
word count: 1647
rating: PG for language
characters: Inami, Hikitsu
notes: Set during chapter whatever it is in Inami's brothel. Inami meets Hikitsu for the first time when he comes in looking to buy none other than Takiko and Uruki.

Taruma had met painfully few gentlemen in her life. Her line of work did not exactly invite the decent sort. And in some ways, that was easier. Easier to preserve the memory of him as the kind, loyal soul he'd been without the distraction. Less chance of making desperate connections between him and the sort of men she met now. It was something new girls did to cope, trying to pretend the men here were the familiar, gentle lovers of a past life.

She'd long ago moved past coping.

She put fresh tobacco in her pipe with a deft elegance, lit it, and leaned back just slightly in her chair. The two new girls were having difficulty adjusting, not surprising given the casual manner in which their bastard of a "father" had left them. She knew people well enough to know a liar when she saw one, and that young man, perhaps a brother, or an abusive lover --but definitely not a father-- was one. A poor one at that.

Scumbag.

She heard a ruckus starting back in the main display room. Probably those girls... had she even bothered to get their names? Any more damage and she'd have to start cutting any pay they managed to earn.

They were exhausting to deal with. So taking a calming drag from her pipe, she chose to ignore it. She let out a slow breath, blowing out a thin cloud of smoke. The necklace from that one girl was clasped around her neck, the large stone pendant resting between her breasts, warm against her skin. It had been glowing with a soft white light since she'd touched it, and the tattoo on her navel burned slightly in return.

She chose to ignore that too.

A custodian knocked hesitantly at the door to her room. "M'am, there's a client asking for the... ah, new girls." He sounded as skeptical as she felt upon hearing this. Those girls, whoever they were, had already proven to be a disaster. That, and she suspected they were up to something. Honestly. Two Hokkan girls, carrying around a necklace such as this, just so happening to be sold to her brothel. Did they think she would be oblivious?

"Hmph," She inhaled again from her pipe, exhaled slowly, and answered. "Perhaps those two will learn to do things right with a bit of practise. It's a new client? Bring him in to see me,"

"Right away, m'am,"

A moment later he was returning down the hall, followed by this prospective client.

And for a second Taruma was surprised by who entered the room. A young, well-kept Hokkan man was gracefully taking a seat across from her.

"You oversee this establishment, I presume?" he asked with a gentle, lilting accent.

She nodded and looked him over with a steely gaze. Tall, pale, and much younger than most of the other men that came here. He lacked the pot belly and the scent of heavy liquor. Yes. Something was going on. Those two girls would have been easy to handle. But for this man, who looks so much like he did to come in here...

"You have an interest in two particular girls, I hear. They're quite new. If you're looking for girls from Hokkan, there are several others I can suggest--"

"That's quite all right," he interrupted. "I'm only interested in them,"

Taruma pursed her lips. He was very different from the other men that came here. And so painfully familliar. Her pulse quickened. Genbu damn that northern accent. Those calm grey eyes. Her stomach felt like it was knotting itself. The sigil on her stomach burned a little more fiercely.

"What brings you here?" The question slips past her lips unchecked, and for a moment she fears this man might be offended.

Instead he raised a delicate eyebrow, the other hidden behind a smooth leather eyepatch. "Are you concerned I'll mistreat them?"

No, she thought. She was worried those two would kill him with their brutishness before he'd closed the door. Unless he already knew them. In which case it might still be prudent to keep them separated. "I make it my business to know about the men looking to buy the women under my protection." she replied honestly.

He paused, and gave her a penetrating look. The sort that felt like it had the power to read her very soul. She held back a shiver. Of fear or delight, she wasn't sure.

"Introductions are appropriate, I suppose," he said carefully. "My name is Chen Emtato. I believe you already can tell where I'm from," his lips quirked with the hint of a knowing smile. "And what is your name?"

She nearly smiled in return, out of some long forgotten habit, but his question made her freeze.

Her name?

The black symbol on her stomach burned hotly.

"Taruma? It's a beautiful name."

Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

"I haven't seen you here before, are you new to the palace?"

She couldn't make herself look at his face, so kept her gaze fixed on the strip of shockingly white skin exposed between his sleeve and glove.

"I just finished my guard duty. Would you like to join me for lunch? And then I'll show you around the palace. They never show the women half the important places. How does that sound?" He extended a slender hand, made bulky by the brown leather glove.

Women of the harem were not to see any men beyond the royal family and the eunuchs who protected them. But she managed to raise her face to meet his kind grey eyes. And suddenly those rules didn't seem so important. She placed her small hand in his.

"I'm sorry, miss, are you all right?" Emtato was looking at her, a slight furrow in his brow.

Brought abruptly back to the present, Taruma shut down all such memories. Honestly, who did this man think he was? No pervert coming to brothels asked for a prostitutes name. The anonymity reduced emotional involvement.

"I am the manager of this place. Madame is sufficient," she said brusquely. "Anyway, you seem like a decent enough sort. As much as can be expected here. What are you willing to pay?"

This job was far easier when the men were easy to despise. When she took their money and counted the minutes until they left. Gentlemen like Emtato Chen did not belong in places like this. It was a failing fight in her mind, finding the will to treat him like the others. As though he were someone who was here for the pleasure and nothing else.

She'd already realised she'd give those feral girls to him at whatever price he wanted, but his offer shocked her even more.

"Four thousand wen?" She exclaimed, pipe slipping from her fingers in disbelief. It clattered against the tiled floor.

"Forgive me, I do not know this business well. Is that too low?"

She was still gaping at him. What was a rich, supposedly honourable man doing in her brothel? He did have history with those girls, had to. And instead of giving up on them, was chasing them. It seemed... painfully noble. She hated herself for the irrational pinch of jealously that it was the two uncontrollable new girls who would be receiving his attention, and not herself.

And there were other possibilities to consider... The necklace heated just slightly, and she worried that a more intense light might show through her robes. It was an irritating reminder.

"Four thousand is... forgive me, but for those two girls together even sixty wen is fair. I have other girls who would better be able to give you your money's worth--"

"I'm not interested in your other women," Emtato said firmly, and Taruma could not find it in herself to be even slightly offended at the way he so easily insulted every single other girl working for her. "I will take them at the price of three hundred a day, for the whole week then, if that suits you,"

"We require upfront payment," Taruma replied automatically, still shocked that there was any man willing to pay that much for a pair of inexperienced, unrefined whores. Suspicion still tickled her mind, but when he wordlessly passed her the payment she accepted it without question.

"Sayu will be pleased to show you to your room," Taruma stood to walk him to the hall, and the custodian bowed and gestured for the lithe Hokkan man to follow.

She watched his back as he strolled down the hall. He walked with a casual grace she had not seen in many years. It made her heart clench with love and grief in a way she had not been reminded of in ages. And she was stunned by how much it still hurt.

"I don't want anyone else bothering me tonight, understand?" Taruma snapped at an attendant heading toward the lobby.

"Yes, m'am," The girl bowed quickly, but Taruma had already closed the door to her room.

She tore open her robe to glare at the necklace still radiating a faint light.

"Is it you making me feel like this?" she asked accusingly. It did not change. The sigil 'Inami' beamed back at her.

"I have no love for the sort of men who would do business with a prostitute, for whatever reason," she scolded, more to herself than the necklace sitting warm on her skin.

Yet Emtato was a painful reminder of the other sort of men in the world, of stolen kisses in the cool stone corridors of a northern palace, the vows that accompanied young love, and of the child she'd wanted desperately to cherish. His child.

She fought to remind herself: this Emtato Chen was not him.

But the similarities were enough. She'd keep a careful eye on him. Maybe he'd turn out to be a disgusting bastard like all the others.

Or maybe he'd be more like a balm for the memory of a love long lost.

Afterwards

Thu, 21 Aug 2008 14:03:21 GMT

Title: Afterwards
word count: 1628
rating: G
characters: Tomite, Hikitsu
warnings: deviates from the storyline.
notes: Tomite and Hikitsu survive the summoning of Genbu. Their lives after Takiko returns to her world. Might be continued.

Three silver coins jingled lightly in the pouch Tomite held in his hand. Opening it up with a deep furrowed scowl to look inside the leather bag did not increase their value.

"No money, no room." The innkeeper crossed his thick, hairy arms over his chest and fixed the two men in front of him with a disapproving glare.

"Heh, sorry about that," Tomite apologized sheepishly to Hikitsu as they retreated from the inn. "This would be so much easier if maybe I told them who we were. There's bound to be some place that would let us stay for free,"

"Tomite." Hikitsu said, using a tone that Tomite knew he only used when he was making an effort to be patient. "They would throw us on spits and feed us to the nasutta as soon as the word Genbu left your mouth." This town had been rather eager to accept the propaganda of Lord Tegiru, rather like some of the other towns they'd passed through recently.

"Good news travels too slow," Tomite sighed. "You know, I think it'd still be good if we went back to Touran and stayed with Inami longer-"

"I am not living in a whore house any more."

The argument was weeks old now, and Tomite ended his list of suggestions short. Hikitsu was being more curt than usual. He suspected the elder Seishi did not like to be reminded of that awkward week spent in the house Inami ran. Thinking of his empty purse, Tomite almost wanted to tell him he should have accepted the man's generous offer, as uncouth as it may have been. Maybe then at least they'd have money for a place to stay.

"Ah, young man! Come! Have your fortune told!" A small, wrinkled woman called them from her vendor.

Tomite scoffed, and made to stroll by, but Hikitsu caught his arm and pulled him towards the fortune-teller.

"What are you doing?" Tomite hissed, and snatched his arm away. Hikitsu ignored him and took a seat on the stool in front of the woman.

"Ah, so you believe in fate, young master! Let me help you find your path..."

Tomite huffed and rolled his eyes, muttering a dark "If you have money you haven't been telling me about..." under his breath.

Hikitsu ignored him. "I'm looking more for an actual oracle. Do you know of one nearby?"

She held out her hand, silently demanding his palm. "You insult me! I am as good as any temple oracle,"

"Hmm." Hikitsu offered his left hand to the woman with an air of disinterest. "I've met some very talented Priestesses. I don't know that you can compare,"

"Oh!" She gasped, and peered closely at the fine lines of his palm. "Priestesses, indeed!" Still clutching his hand she looked both ways along the street, checking for people. "You have received great blessings from the heavens!" she whispered, still glancing to make sure no one was nearby. Tomite received an especially suspicious glare.

"Oh, like what?" Hikitsu's bland tone did not put her off.

"This cannot be spoken of here! The wrong ears may hear!"

"I'm very interested. However my companion and I have no place to go, what would you suggest?"

The wrinkles of her face seemed to crease even deeper in her excitement. "For one such as yourself, it would be my greatest honour if you would allow me the pleasure of hosting you in my home!" She was still holding his hand tightly between both of hers.

"We would be honoured by your hospitality," Hikitsu withdrew his hand and stood up as the little woman began to hurriedly pack the silks and tiny metal charms of her stall into a bag.

Tomite jabbed him in the ribs. "What was that about not telling anyone who we were?"

Hikitsu shrugged but Tomite recognized the slightest hint of a smirk on his face.

Her house stank of too-sweet perfume, and layres of lavender silks curtained the windows. Every chair was laden with an overstuffed cushion and beaded throw rugs. Tomite held back a gag as the old woman - Bolorma - closed the door behind them.

Even Hikitsu's nose wrinkled in distaste, but ever graceful, he turned to their host with a pleasantly mild expression. "I take it you're from Konan. I've never seen silks like these in Hokkan,"

"You are a clever one," she chuckled good-naturedly and led them towards the square table in the kitchen. "Tea? And milk for the young boy?" she asked as she pulled three clay mugs from a drawer.

"I drink tea," Tomite was indignant. Bolorma hadn't spoken to him as anything more than "that boy" since she'd realised that Hikitsu was Genbu's gift to mankind.

"Hush, boy! I'm talking to... to..." She raised her small brown eyes to look at Hikitsu.

Tomite wondered if she'd change her tune if she looked to see who he was, but was so annoyed at Hikitsu's unexplained actions that he was happy to leave Hikitsu to talk with this old prune.

"Emtato is fine,"

"Do you know your celestial name?"

"I'm afraid not," he lied. "Would you be able to find out for me?"

Bolorma pursed her thin lips til it looked like she had none. "I am not so blessed by your Northern god to see such things. All I see is a great battle in your future,"

Unseen by her, Tomite rolled his eyes, and tried to tell Hikitsu with a single look that this was a waste of time.

But Hikitsu was not put off, and he peppered Bolorma with questions about Seishi and Gods and constellations-- all things he already knew too well.

Tomite tuned it out, sulking and staring at the warm mug of milk he'd been given. What a waste of time this all was. Granted, Hikitsu was an excellent liar, but what was the point of coming here and listening to this old woman prattle?

He was ready to put his head on the table and just sleep there until Hikitsu gently squeezed his arm.

"It's quite late," Hikitsu announced, and cast a worried glance towards the dark window. "Do you know a place nearby we could stay?"

"My son's old room upstairs still has his bed. Come, you are more than welcome to stay..."

The room was tiny, with bare walls, a window opening onto the street, and a small chest of drawers with a ragged stuffed bear sitting on top. The bed was narrow and short, too small for a full-grown man, but Hikitsu accepted it, along with an armload of heavy blankets. Tomite, unblessed as he was, was given only a straw mat for the floor and a grey, smelly blanket.

They stared at the room silently until they heard, through the closed door, Bolorma padding back down the stairs.

"I'm sorry Hikitsu, but what are we doing here?" Tomite dumped the rolled mat and folded blanket on the floor.

Hikitsu offered him a tired smile and tapped the black patch on his right eye. "People are easy to read. She's just lonely, and it seemed like a likely source of a free bed."

"So cruel! Taking advantage of an old woman's generosity!" Tomite moaned in mock disbelief. He unbuckled his quiver from his back and set it, along with his bow, carefully against the wall.

"I can't believe she gave you the bed," Tomite looked tiredly at the straw mat, unrolling it with a nudge from his boot.

"We can share it," Hikitsu offered, yawning.

"That'll be a tight fit,"

"I'm just offering," Hikitsu sat perched on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots, setting them beside their small brown sack of possessions.

Tomite sat down beside him heavily. "I hope I am never old and lonely,"

"Maybe Bolorma will tell you your future," Hikitsu teased, shoving Tomite off the bed before standing himself to start unfolding the blankets.

"As if she told you anything useful,"

"As if you were listening to half of it,"

Tomite ignored him and helped tug a corner of a blanket into place. "I can't wait to get home. When it was all of us, the time went by so fast. Ma's probably really worried,"

"Aila will be angry that we didn't come back sooner," Hikitsu's hands paused briefly as he smoothed out the last blanket. "Do you miss her?"

"Who? Aila?" Tomite felt sick at the thought.

"No. Takiko. And everyone, I guess,"

Tomite worked at unfastening the buttons of his shirt. "Yeah. It doesn't seem fair, really. She leaves and we have to go back to living like we're perfectly normal. And everyone else has lives to return to. Even Hatsui found an apprenticeship. What are we supposed to do?"

Hikitsu stripped down to his loose pants and slid into the bed, back pressed against the far wall. "I try not to think about it,"

Tomite gave him a curious look. "You know, I spent so long hoping that destiny would never catch up with me, that I'd get to stay with my tribe and make bows and hunt everyday. And now I'm almost dreading it,"

"Tomite, sleep and bemoan your mortal existence tomorrow,"

He blushed, feeling very childish, and stared at the small space between the edge of the bed and Hikitsu's broad, pale chest.

Hikitsu raised a delicate eyebrow. "If you're not going to sleep in the bed, tell me now so I can enjoy the space,"

Tomite huffed and slipped under the blankets. "If you shove me off the bed, I will take all the blankets with me,"

Hikitsu laughed softly but made no reply. Tomite pulled the blankets up under his chin and settled. The mattress was surprisingly soft and Hikitsu's breath was warm and steady on the back of his neck. And for a moment as he fell asleep he tried to imagine that this was all he needed to live a happy life.

Good-bye

Wed, 20 Aug 2008 01:58:14 GMT

Title: Good-bye
Word count: 512
Rating: G
Characters: Tomite, Takiko, very brief Hikitsu.
Notes: Timeline? Logistics of something like this happening? Rimudo's very notable absence? Yeah, I don't even know.

Saying good-bye was one of those things he didn't like very much. His tongue got all tied up, and he was never sure if a handshake was enough or if he should hug the other person, or maybe they didn't like being touched at all. And at the worst of times, there'd be an embarrassing sting at the back of his eyes, and he'd hastily brush the other person off, just so he could beat a hasty retreat.

Tomite drew his third-last arrow from his quiver and shot another soldier, but one eye was still on the Priestess. She was going to leave them all, forever most likely. And never in his life had a 'good-bye' seemed so vitally important to say.

Even from across a field of scattered, mangled bodies, Tomite could spy Takiko standing at the gate of the mountain temple. Her pale arms were raised above her head, and he imagined he could see a grimace on her upturned face. Then silver light engulfed her, the earth heaved and he felt his strength drain away. His knees kept shaking as he fought to keep standing even after the ground stilled.

Tomite looked back to Takiko, lips moving in words he could not hear, and specks of light rising off her body and into the sky.

She was leaving.

"Takiko!" he shouted, but his voice sounded dry and dull.

"Run, now!" Hikitsu was behind him, a familiar presence and a voice of reason to his own irrational desperation. Tomite stumbled to a run, discarding his bow to clamber around bodies and through uneven snow.

"Takiko! Wait!"

Her body, almost transparent and fading quickly, turned to look at him with wide, vacant eyes, and an voice that was too deep to be hers answered.

"You have full-filled your duty, Tomite,"

He stretched out his hand as he tore up the steep black steps of the temple. This was not duty! His hand found hers and latched on, mind racing to think of words that could convey everything to her, this possessed, fading shell of Takiko. A last word of his love, respect, and desperate hope for her long, happy life in her world.

He held her hand, glowing and wispy like mist, in both of his as though he could keep her here by sheer force of will, but she only returned his panic gaze with a blank stare.

"Takiko," And there it was, tears prickling his eyes, and mouth open yet starved for words. She was going to disappear from his life forever, and everything was going to end. His trembling hands released hers, and he flung them around her shoulders.

"Good-bye," he whispered, squeezing the foggy form of her body closer. He planted a hard kiss on her cheek. "Good-bye!" The words were choked out around a sob, and his tears fell through the last fading traces of her body to the stone floor.

And long after she had gone, he stood there, holding nothing but air, shoulders shaking, and praying to Genbu that she heard his last words to her.

Secret

Sun, 03 Aug 2008 15:42:13 GMT

Title: Secret
Word Count: 361
Characters: Hikitsu, Tomite
Rating: G

The sun was, even to his poor eyes, a brilliant orb in the sky. The two of them were sprawled on their backs, and the long grasses surrounding them rustled with the soft laughter of summer winds.

"Chamka?" He'd been silent for so long that Emtato wasn't sure if the other boy had fallen asleep.

"What?" He sounded drowsy, but Emtato knew that if he left this moment pass, he'd never be able to tell him again. Friends shared secrets, and Chamka was a good friend, even in the short time they'd known each other.

"Can you keep a secret?"

"What?" Chamka turned his head to fix him with a curious frown. "Of course I can!"

"Promise. You can't tell anyone."

"Promise. Cross my heart. What is it?"

"I'm one of Genbu's constellations."

Chamka went very still, and Emtato began to sit up, ready to run away.

Tomite burst out laughing. "I almost thought you were serious! Ha!" He continued to laugh, ignorant of Emtato's small frown. "Haha, I'm sorry I told you you're no fun. Heh. My mum wouldn't like it if she knew you made jokes about that though - The Genbu Seishi are dangerous!" Chamka rolled to his feet and dusted grass and dirt off his pants. "I should go back. Mum's probably worrying. Will I see you later?" Chamka looked up at the other boy who was now standing in front of him.

"Just... don't tell anyone, okay?"

Chamka rolled his eyes. "Sure, whatever," and they each left heading in their own direction.

By the time Emtato got back to his tribe, rumours were already flying.

"I heard from the elder of the Tan tribe! A white ghost with no eyes covered in long hair has appeared, sent by Genbu himself!" a young hunter said around a mouthful of food as their tribe sat for dinner. His stories of this "celestial beast" earned rounds of 'ooh's and 'aah's from the younger ladies at the table, and grunts of disapproval from the other men.

Emtato ground his teeth, and avoided his mothers pointed stare. He was never telling Chamka a secret ever again.

Force was Necessary

Thu, 08 May 2008 17:02:19 GMT

Word count: 1363
Characters: Shigi, Hien, Hakei.
Rating: PG for violent boys.
Summary: Set just before the beginning of the manga. Hakei asks Shigi and Hien to work together, but they aren't very cooperative.

Shigi understood people far better than he was given credit for. He kept silent, but a man only mistook his pretty face and slow smile for surface value once. Patience to watch people kept him ahead, no matter how devious his opponent was.

Hien was unfortunately a predictable person, and with a glance Shigi could read him, know him. And he didn't like what he saw in the other soldier. Both of them were kneeling before the revered Lord Hakei, faces so low their noses nearly brushed the plush carpet. Hardly glancing sideways he could catch a glint of something in Hakei's dark eyes. Shigi knew the look, had seen it many times before in people he'd encountered, and it sickened him to think the young man beside him entertained thoughts of power and glory. Dared to think such things in the presence of Lord Hakei.

"You both have shown remarkable potential," Hakei's even voice sounded almost bored. "I will be promoting you to field officers for the fourth division."

"As you command, my lord," they both mumbled into the floor. Shigi could feel the excitement rolling off Hien in waves. True, it was a pleasant turn of events, but not unexpected. He was slightly miffed, however, that it seemed Hakei wanted them to share the position.

"I have a specific mission I will want you to work on together." The prince of Kutou placed careful emphasis on the last word. "You will be briefed on it at a later time. For now, check your ranks. You will want only the best men. No more than thirty. Send the unwanted to the tenth division." With a wave of his hand, Hakei dismissed them, and the two new officers backed quickly out of the tent.

As soon as the tent flaps fell closed behind them, Hien's lips spread in a wide smirk and hardly noticed Shigi as he began strutting toward the soldiers camps. Shigi's face remained neutral as he followed at a more sedate and dignified pace, but he watched Hien. If his co-officer's head continued to swell with pride, there was going to be a problem. He would not work alongside anyone who did not live and breathe for Lord Hakei's glory as he did.

Hien was now well ahead of him, Shigi could hear him barking orders at a pair of soldiers, and his lips pressed together in a firm, displeased line. Hien was proud, power-hungry, headstrong. Those were not qualities that would benefit either himself, or Lord Hakei. He quickened his pace slightly, fingers twitching and eyes sharp with cold hate. He would teach that dog his place, officer or not.

Hien was watching the two soldiers dash off, and his face continued to bear a satisfied grin. Shigi grabbed his hair. "Hey!" Hien barked, but any following words melted into something suspiciously like a whimper as Shigi pulled and twisted the handful of dark hair. His other hand fastened around Hien's wrist, turning it back at what he knew was a painful angle.

"We must talk." Shigi's voice was low and icy. "Into the tent,"

Hien remained stubbornly still, until the pressure on his wrist increased, and his knees jerked forward. Shigi used to momentum to propel his co-officer through the flap of the tent beside them.

"What is your problem, psycho?" Hien roared as Shigi released him, hands flying to the block-ish clubs slung over his shoulders.

"You,"

Hien froze, paralysed once he noticed how those eyes seemed to be boring holes into his head. "What do you want?"

Shigi continued to stare at him, and was, somewhere in the back of his mind, impressed that Hien didn't look away. "You ask the wrong questions," He was glad to see the cocky expression on Hien's face was gone.

"I don't know who you think you are, but-"

"I am Lord Hakei's loyal servant." Shigi cut him off. Hien remained thankfully silence, but Shigi could see the faintest traces of confusion in his eyes. He stepped forward so he was standing face to face with this stocky brute of a soldier. His own body was lithe and slender, but still put him an inch of two above Hien.

"The only question you should ever ask is 'How can I serve you, Lord Hakei',"

"I can work and think for myself. I am not a mindless slave." Hien spat. Shigi could almost hear the "like you" tacked on to the end of that. No, words would not be enough to teach him his place. Force was necessary.

His gloved hands flashed for Hien's neck, but the other soldier was not entirely incompetent. He jumped back with a snarl, and with a smooth gesture swung his club at Shigi's head.

Shigi ducked, and with feline grace slid behind Hien. "You are too ambitious. You must not aim any higher than Lord Hakei places you." He loosened the metal whip from his belt.

Hien side-stepped the cracking ropes, and jabbed at the soldier behind him, spinning so they were once again facing each other. "I am not a pet. I will prove my skill and worth to Lord Hakei,"

"Obedience is all Lord Hakei needs," Shigi's voice was nearly monotone, and he cracked the whip once again, finally catching him on the shoulder. Hien's uniform cut as easily as the skin underneath, but he acknowledged no pain beyond gritting his teeth and steeling his gaze. Shigi noted with mild interest that he seemed to have a temper to match his oversized ego. And in his pause something large and heavy collided with the side of his head.

"Everyone was right. You are crazy." Hien hefted his club deftly, watching Shigi stumble from the impact. The cracking of metal was his only warning before stinging wires snapped around his leg and flung him onto his back. He hit the ground heavily, and knew the whip had cut deeply into his calf.

"You need to learn your place," Strands of pale hair knocked loose from one of his many hair wraps were streaked with blood, and Shigi's black gloved hand, clutched to his bleeding temple, was stained by the steady flow. His face had gone frighteningly cold, more so than before, and in his prone position on the floor Hien was aware that this man was not simply a soldier, but a true killer. A cat toying with a mouse before returning, purring and satisfied, to it's master.

"I know my place," Hien growled defiantly, hand tightening around his weapons grip. "My ambition will make me the greatest man under Lord Hakei."

"Your recklessness will cost us both. I will not fail in Lord Hakei's eyes because of you," Shigi yanked the whip from Hien's leg, and pelted his side, leaving a long, wide gash. A second. A thi- Hien snarled like an animal, and caught the metal rope in his hand, twisting it twice for a better grip, and tried to pull it away from Shigi's grasp. Shigi tried to yank it back, but Hien held firm and used the force to roll to his feet.

"Sick bastard," Hien growled again, and dropped the club he'd been holding in favour of landing a punch square in the stomach. He heard a satisfactory hiss of pain. "I will not let you hold me back!" He tried to punch him again, but Shigi caught his hand and twisted it around painfully.

They fell to brawling, grappling on the floor with painful jabs and sharp kicks and- was Hien biting him?

"When you two are quite finished, I will see you back in my tent."

The two of them froze, and Shigi was rather certain the wide-eyed look on Hien's face mirrored his own. Hopefully his own face wasn't as bloody and bruised, but he released the other man hurriedly and turned to bow before the Prince.

"Forgive me, my Lord," Shigi gasped, still trying to catch his breath, and he was surprised to hear Hien beside him muttering the same words.

Hakei nodded. "Clean yourselves up and come immediately. I have a very important mission for your division." He turned to leave them in the tent, and allowed himself a smug grin. Those two would be prefect, just as he had anticipated.

The Right Choice

Thu, 08 May 2008 01:57:57 GMT

Word Count: 632
Characters: Takiko, Rimudo
Summary: What I not-so-secretly want to happen in chapter 30. Entirely TakikoxRimudo
Rating: PG13. I am very tempted to add more and make it a shameless NC-17. >_>

"Rimudo!" Takiko called, face beaming. She opened her arms to welcome his embrace, but he didn't move from where he stood. He stared at her with shocked eyes, jaw clenched shut.

She faltered, and dropped her arms. All her doubts flooded back to her as the last traces of white light faded from around her. She was wrong, her father had read the book wrong- Rimudo really didn't want her around.

"Why are you back here?" His biting tone solidified her fears.

"I'm dying," Takiko said. Her voice sounded terribly distant to her ears. "I wanted to finish my duties here." She tried to convince herself, without success, that she could be here solely for her obligation to these people.

The stony expression on Rimudo's face seemed to crack, and she could see the fear and relief in his eyes. "Takiko," he whispered, and with that single pain-filled word she knew that he still loved her. No one could say a name like that and mean anything else. His eyes never moved from her face and he finally stepped closer to her, enveloping her in his strong arms. Takiko clung to him just as tightly and, embarrassed by her tears, buried her face in his shoulder.

"Forgive me," he begged, voice hardly a breath. His arms tightened around her waist almost painfully, and Takiko wondered if maybe he was crying too. "I only wanted to protect you."

Takiko laughed around a relieved sob. "Well, I've come back to protect you all. It's much easier to do when we're in the same world."

"It killed me to say those things to you," Rimudo admitted, and he placed a hesitant kiss by her ear.

"I believed you, you know," Takiko ran her small hands along his back, feeling the defined muscles though the soft fabric of his shirt. Her voice trembled from the rush of butterflies in her stomach. "Not just what you said, but everyone."

"Forgive me," His breath tickled her neck, and her heart fluttered as in return his hands smoothed down along the curve of her waist.

"But home was worse than here," Takiko was fascinated by the way he shivered as she spoke. Did her breath do what his did to her? "I was to marry a doctor. He said he loved me very much,"

She felt his body go very still.

"But all I wanted was to be back here, even if you all hated me,"

"No, no. I never hated you." The words tumbled out of his mouth, desperate to reassure her. "We need you." He paused and took a shaky breath. "I need you,"

Takiko's heart felt like it was going to burst. "I need you, too."

Rimudo started to pull back from her, and for an instant she feared she'd said the wrong thing. But with a throaty growl he pressed his lips to hers, clutching her even closer than before.

It was several moments before Takiko was aware that she was kissing him back, and she felt her face redden as she opened her mouth to meet his warm tongue with hers. His eyes were closed, and his hands still roamed her back, sliding dangerously low. Takiko stiffened indignantly despite the rush of heat curling in her belly and the heavy pulse of her heart.

"Takiko," He had opened his eyes to meet hers, and she thought he nearly sounded pleading. Even with the hint of a begging tone of voice, his gaze was smouldering enough to set her cheeks aflame again. Through her dizziness, Takiko knew she wanted him to keep holding her, kissing her, touching her, no matter how much her face insisted on blushing.

"Yes," she answered to his unasked question.

He rewarded her with a brilliant smile. And she knew, as he swept her into his arms to carry her inside, she had made the right choice in coming back.

Obligation

Sun, 04 May 2008 21:35:34 GMT

Word Count: 518
Summary: Oikawa reflects on his dedication to Takiko. Spoilers for chapter 29.

Why a ~~story~~ drabble, dedicated to a guy who shows up in only one chapter as a love interest, only to be shot down? Because he's such a heartbreakingly nice guy. I know some people complained that he came out of nowhere, but I think I could very much argue otherwise. At least in fanfiction-land. >_<

Oikawa was surprisingly humble for one so accustomed to success, though he wasn't sure how he hand maintained such composure. His insides clenched just remembering Takiko's rejection, but he knew too well of what she spoke. Hadn't he spent so many years of his life pining for a beautiful girl? One in another city, hardly daring to dream that she might look his way. Even from when he had first met her, he could still remember the bright eyed gaze she kept for Oosugi. Had she ever looked at his face? He doubted it; she had hovered over her dying mother, and otherwise fixated herself on Mr. Oosugi.

His hands shook slightly as he mixed the medicine that would soothe Takiko's cough. Was that why she'd changed her mind? Because of her love for the handsome officer? Oosugi was a married man, with a young daughter, if he remembered correctly. He could admire dreaminess in Takiko. His face flushed hotly at the thought of the slender grace with which she moved, and the distant look in her eyes... But he hadn't thought of her to be simple, not with who her father was. She couldn't have chosen to live alone, in memory of a crush on a married man. No, Takiko's tears had been for someone who must have returned her feelings.

He lifted the glass vile into the sunlight streaming in the window, checking that the colour was solid, and there were no small lumps of powder remaining. Takiko loved another man, though neither Einosuke or the chatty old housekeeper had mentioned any men in her life who could be that close to her. Oikawa put the stopper in the top of the delicate tube and stood shakily. After the excitement of Takiko accepting his rushed proposal, the shock of discovering her illness, and the devastation of her tears and rejection, he was surprised the black hole in his gut hadn't swallowed him whole yet, much less walk and prepare her medication. She'd already had one dose, just after he'd found her crying under the tree near the school, just after she'd told him she couldn't marry him.

Even now, as he walked toward the door, he wanted only to shelter her, pull the illness from her body, but he could feel a pang of jealously driving his actions now. Could this other man of hers save her life? Oikawa stopped himself, disgusted at himself. He was a doctor to save lives, not to win the love of a young woman. He'd be careful to keep his profession and his heart seperate, as he always had. he hadn't let his heart affect him when he treated Yoshie's hopeless case, though he had spent an embarrassing amount of time willing her to live, as though mind power alone would reverse her condition, if only for Takiko's happiness. He'd failed in curing Yoshie, and while he knew he was not to blame, he still felt his obligation to Takiko.

He couldn't heal Takiko's mother, he couldn't heal her broken heart, but he'd die before he gave up on her life.

Replacement

Mon, 29 Oct 2007 16:38:34 GMT

word count: 2589
characters: Tomite, Hikitsu. Bits of Inami, Takiko and Filka.
summary: Tomite doesn't want to be replaced by someone stronger. Slash.

Tomite's mother had always told him he wasn’t very bright. But he'd be damned if his intuition wasn’t spot on. And it had been right again. That nagging worry at the back of his mind had Tomite arrive just in time, riding on the back of the yellow dragon to swoop down and rescue his two fellow Seishi. And as Inami and Hikitsu settled down to catch their breath during the ride back to the Odo tribe’s home hidden in the forest, Tomite could see they looked like shit. As one would generally expect after a less than victorious encounter with Kutou’s finest soldiers. Shigi and Hien had certainly done a number on Hikitsu and Inami.

While those two bastards were a nightmare for a normal human, a Seishi wouldn’t normally have had such a problem handling them. The problem lay with Tegu’s song still ringing in their ears, and their pain-wracked bodies weak from the drain, leaving them unusually vulnerable.

This was something Tomite was fairly certain should have been concerning, or at least worthy of his attention. After all, Takiko was supposed to summon Genbu soon. But all he could think was how much he wanted Inami to fall off the back of the dragon and plunge to her death. Or at least something resulting in her temporary absence.

From where he sat near the head of the dragon, Tomite would see Hikitsu had his hands on Inami's arms, supporting her, looking at her with genuine concern in his visible eye. His hand against her own as Inami pressed the excess fabric of her skirt firmly against her leg to stem to flow of blood. Hikitsu hardly seemed to notice his own blood, smeared across his cheek, drying between his long fingers and staining the front of his shirt with a slowly growing blotch of red.

Tomite wanted to interrupt and tend to Hikitsu’s wounds. Wanted to interrupt the small smile Inami was offering the Seishi. Something must have happened while on the battlefield, because neither of them spoke any words, yet they still managed to convey so much through their eyes. And Tomite hated it. But he sat apart from them and made no move to interfere.

Although he’d never really seen Inami and Hikitsu speak more than a few passing words before, that they would be close made some sense to him. Hikitsu was refined and considerate, in that Northern nomad sort of way, and Inami was elegant and worldly, in that Southern prostitute sort of way...

Actually it didn’t make sense. Maybe he was reading too deep into this all. They were injured, scraping by through a near-death experience after a day of watching each others back on the battlefield. It was the sort of experience Tomite expected to bring people closer together, not that'd he'd really know.

Tomite felt his gut twist. He should have been the one on the field, fighting alongside Hikitsu, hacking down Kutou soldiers. Should now be the one sitting closest to him, stemming the bleeding and reminding him that he wasn’t alone to face the horrors of war.

But Hikitsu didn’t look remotely lonely, and had barely cast a glance in Tomite’s direction, instead keeping his attention focused entirely on the woman beside him.

And suddenly Tomite realised that this must be how Takiko feels, watching that Filka girl demand Rimudo’s constant attention. It was the painful jealously that accompanied watching yourself be replaced.

“Hikitsu,” Tomite needed to have the other man notice him. Anything. Any reason to speak and have his full attention. “What happened down there?”

Hikitsu's blue eye was piercing, but his words more so. "Not now," he said sharply. Inami was nodding in agreement.

"At least wait until we're safe with the others," she added, voice stiff with pain.

Tomite felt a prickle at his eyes, and turned away from his two comrades. His palms pressed against the large, scratchy scales of the dragon's neck and he remained obediently silent until they had landed among the Odo village.

Once there, Tomite abandoned them to the flurry of panicked servants and priests, all swarming around, desperate to touch and bandage and clean the wounded Seishi. He kept his hands firmly crossed against his chest, ignoring the impatient line of Hikitsu's lips as the blond man tried to move away from the press of too many good intentions. Inami was looking dizzy and angry, trying to shoo the villagers away, but failing to keep her own balance.

Tomite felt like a jerk, standing aside, not helping them. But he wasn't going to get involved. He was going to stand here and watch. He was going to stay exactly where he was, no matter if that was Hikitsu-- that was Hikitsu buckling under the weight of his own body, dozens of now wailing men and women pressing closer and god, Hikitsu was going to suffocate from them or die-

"Get away!" Tomite roared, and a bright spark of silver light from his hands made everyone stop and look at him. He shoved his way through the people. "Go away, all of you!" He knelt down by Hikitsu's prone form. There was a sickening amount of blood staining his blue shirt, but Tomite had seen blood before. He'd help Hikitsu.

"Tomite-" The elder Seishi moved to sit up, but Tomite pulled him into his arms.

"Relax," Tomite ordered. "I'm going to move you where it's less crowded." He hefted the man to his feet, both arms supporting him. The already thinning crowd of people parted as the pair of them headed towards the shelter of a tree in a stone courtyard with Inami wordlessly following. Within moments both Inami and Hikitsu were seated, leaning against the smooth bark of the tree. Tomite quickly set to removing Hikitsu's shirt, exposing the white skin underneath already slick with blood.

"What happened to you?" Tomite grunted, pressing a clean white cloth to the most severe wound.

"Tegu's song," Hikitsu murmured. "I couldn't fight Shigi,"

How dearly Tomite wanted to go right now and kill that psycho. "Good thing Seishi are made of tough stuff," Tomite offered, slightly distracted as he reached around Hikitsu, a facsimile of a hug, as he began to wind a bandage around his narrow chest.

"We both would have died if you hadn't come," Hikitsu admitted quietly, breath tickling Tomite's ear.

He felt a fierce blush rise to his cheeks and pulled back quickly. "No, no. I was just... Takiko was worried and... I wanted to help you fight," Tomite stumbled through his words.

Hikitsu hummed and relaxed slightly, letting Tomite's deft fingers clean and bandage his wounds. "You shouldn't be allowed to fight,"

Tomite paused what he was doing and saw a strange look in the man's visible eye.

He felt a little betrayed. "And why not?"

Hikitsu raised his hand and rested it on Tomite's arm. "Because-"

"Because boys are better off saving people than getting killed on a battlefield," Inami interrupted. Tomite scowled at her and opened his mouth to disagree.

"She's right. You'd get hurt," Hikitsu squeezed his arm gently.

"So it's all right for you to be hurt?" He yanked the bandage he was tying into a tight knot, and Hikitsu winced.

"No," Inami answered, and Tomite wanted to tell her that he really didn't care if she got hurt at all. "Hikitsu and I, we're old and tough. We don't break easily. You, however, would be trampled like a daisy,"

"Would not," Tomite said hotly.

"Hikitsu! Inami!" Takiko was pelting down a corridor, Hatsui hot on her heels. "Are you two okay?"

Tomite, for the first time in his life, was annoyed at her arrival. She probably thought he was weak as well.

"Still alive somehow," Inami drawled. Tomite felt indignant that she didn't acknowledge who it was the allowed her to still be alive.

"But if Tomite hadn't come..." Hikitsu added. He was giving Tomite that look again that said there was a lot more going on in his head than he was saying. Tomite wondered if maybe he was secretly also a mind reader.

"What happened out there?" Takiko knelt in front of Inami, checking over the worst of her injuries, making sure the bandaging was satisfactory.

"It was Tegu's song again," Tomite supplied as Takiko moved to stand behind him, visually checking over Hikitsu as well.

And they were off. How was that possible? How could they stop him? Tempers raising, panic swelling. Too many of them were injured, the army was too big. No, Tomite, you can't go fight them on your own. Yes, Temudan is behind it all. Will we be able to summon Genbu, who knows?

In the midst of their argument, Filka descended on the squabbling group. She was a voice of reason, sending them in their own directions to calm down. Kutou was still nearby, everyone needed to rest, she told them.

Tomite caught Takiko's forlorn look as Filka guided Rimudo back to his room. While Tomite was certain he had a similar look on his face as Hikitsu staggered to his feet to guide Inami away, he couldn't think of anything to say that might comfort the prietess. Besides, he was still pissed that everyone thought he was too weak to fight. So he followed Filka's suggestion, and left to sleep in his own quarters.

He slept fitfully for only an hour, mind humming with fear and anger and god, how much blood did Hikitsu have in him? Until a servant was knocking frantically at his door, creaking it open to flood his dark room with torch light.

"Lady Filka needs you, Kutou is approaching,"

"What?" Tomite was out of bed and flinging on his clothes within seconds. He slung his quiver over his shoulder, slid his feet into his boots and was out the door, bow in hand, running towards the village gates.

The village seemed deserted, only a few straggling men with heavy armour were left, also running toward the gates. Tomite could see a few curtains pulled open with women and wrinkled old men and the occasional child peering out into the night.

"Hikitsu, they're coming! Let's go!" Inami called somewhere up ahead. Tomite skidded around the corner to see Inami, staff in hand and black hair moving to spill out of the intricate bun on her head, charge out of the gates.

"I'm coming," Hikitsu yelled after her, checking the blade of his dagger before slipping it into it's leather sheath.

"Hikitsu!" Tomite slowed to a stop beside him. "What's happening? Where's Takiko?"

Hikitsu seemed surprised to see him. "Takiko is missing. She went into the forest. I think Uruki is already with her, but the Kutou army started moving again."

"So we've got to stop them," Tomite started to walk past him, but Hikitsu placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Inami and I can handle it, and the Odo tribe has it's own army. You can stay here,"

Tomite held his ground. "I'm going to help you fight,"

"You're not coming!" Hikitsu snapped, and Tomite flinched at his tone. "I don't want you to come," he added tersely.

Tomite went very still. He felt his lungs constrict and his heart stick in his throat. Hikitsu was heading towards sure death, and he was choosing to have Inami at his side. In such a short time had she come to mean more to him? Did he want to die with her, rather than his life long friend and pact-partner?

"Though of different families," Tomite whispered the ancient oath. "We swear brotherhood, and promise mutual help to one end. We will rescue each other in difficulty, we will aid each other in danger. We ask not the same day of birth-"

"But we seek to die together," Hikitsu finished. They held each others eyes for a moment longer, until the distant cry of charging soldiers met their ears. Tomite moved to follow the sound, but Hikitsu grabbed his shoulder, yet again stopping the younger Seishi.

"You don't understand," Hikitsu fought to find the words to explain, painfully aware that there was no time for this.

Tomite wrenched away and stepped back to put more space between the two of them. "I don’t understand what?" he shouted. "That you think I'm too weak to fight? Or the meaning of our pact? Or that you would choose Inami over me?"

"No, Tomite!" Hikitsu yelled back, and he shoved Tomite against the wall. The impact made him drop his bow, and the weapon clattered as it fell to the street. He struggled for a moment but the elder Seishi's grip was firm. Tomite settled for a defiant glare and waited for him to step back. Hikitsu stayed, crowding him against the cold stone bricks, hands grasping his shoulders painfully tight. He must have seen Tomite wince, because he relaxed his hands, but did not remove them.

"I won’t see you hurt," Hikitsu admitted, willing Tomite to understand.

"Hikitsu, I won't-"

And just like that, Hikitsu closed the space between them.

The kiss was sudden and awkward, and Tomite stood there, limp with shock and pinned against a wall. He noticed Hikitsu's hands, still on his shoulders, trembling. He noticed the delicate eyelashes on Hikitsu's closed eye, the warmth of the foreign lips moving oh so slightly against his own- and then the pang of loss as he was released.

Hikitsu hastily removed his still shaking hands, but before he got too far, Tomite put a hand at Hikitsu's neck to pull him back. Without resistance their lips met again. Pale hands smoothed down his chest to rest at his hips, and with a pleased hum Tomite twisted his arms tighter around Hikitsu's neck, messing the long blond hair as his fingers sought to pull the man closer.

Tomite blushed furiously as a tongue brushed along his lips, but pulled gently once more at Hikitsu’s soft lower lip before parting his own. Hikitsu pushed him closer against the wall to slide his right thigh between Tomites, relishing in the groan it caused. Tomite felt him shivering with delight as shy fingers snuck under the hem of his shirt.

The approaching army and imminent danger was forgotten in favour of hungry tongues, wandering hands and warm pressure in all the right places.

"Umm," Tomite trembled as Hikitsu gently kissed along his jaw.
"Mmm," Hikitsu replied.
"Maybe I'm not strong enough," he closed his eyes. He didn't think his legs would be able to keep him standing if Hikitsu moved that knee from it's current position.
"No, you're strong. I'm not strong enough to risk loosing you,"

Tomite decided that was an acceptable form of apology. That and Hikitsu's tongue was doing obscene things to his ear. But there was something else. Something beyond this moment he needed to pay attention to.

"Takiko needs us. We should go." Tomite said, almost guilty that they'd put her off so long already. He felt more than heard the exasperated puff of air as Hikitsu sighed.

"Only if you promise not to die," he conceded, before pressing impossibly close, face tucked into the crook of Tomite's neck, hands wrapped snugly around his waist.

"I won't if you don't," His own hands rested on Hikitsu's hips. None of the curves that a woman like Inami had, or the soft grace of Lady Takiko. But he held Hikitsu just as closely. Warm body, kind smile, trusted friend... God, why hadn't they started this earlier. Why was there no time. Why did they have to go-

Hikitsu found the strength to push away, once again allowing them to hear the screams and cries coming from the edge of the forest. Tomite indulged himself in one last glance at Hikitsu, with his swollen lips, flushed cheeks and ruffled hair.

"Ready?"

Tomite took a deep breath and nodded, and without another word they rushed through the gates of the city.

Song

Tue, 16 Oct 2007 03:23:27 GMT

characters: Haagasu, Tegu
word count: 1663

Song

Haagasu loved to hear his brother sing. The women of the Urudai clan were well respected for their voices, and their father often praised the memory of their mothers voice. But in Haagasu’s mind, nothing compared to Tegu’s melodies.

“Tegu,” He and his older brother were walking hand in hand towards the pasture where the horses grazed. “Will you sing me a song?”

Tegu smiled. “But I sing all the time. We’re both going to get sick of my voice!”

“Never!” Haagasu stopped and waited until Tegu was returning his even stare. “Your songs are the most beautiful in the world! I wish I didn’t have to hear anyone but you sing,”

“I wish you were the only one allowed to hear my singing,”

Haagasu finally returned the smile and squeezed his brothers hand. “Well you can still sing to the horses, if you like,” and his eyes sharpened with the thought of mischief and mostly innocent mayhem. It was hard to put the blame for livestock gone wild on the singing of a little boy.

Oh yes, the songs Tegu would sing to the horses were his favourites. A few notes could have them stampeding through the fence in rage, or laying on the rolling hills, eyes soothed shut by one of Tegu’s lullabies. Haagasu wondered if he could convince Tegu to try and make the horses frolic, all four hooves flying through the air as they danced to the rhythm of Tegu’s voice.

They strolled up the rocky hill towards the plateau where the tribe’s animals grazed. But the sound that met their ears wasn’t the welcoming whinny of their favourite pony, or the robust yodel of their father’s throat singing.

They heard the horses screaming.

Thick blood and matted strips of fur and flesh were strewn along the grass. Barely living animals cried and struggled to move.

“Tegu! Haagasu! Get back to the village!” Their father, tall and strong, ran to them, bow in hand and arrow nocked.

“Wh-what’s happening?” Haagasu gasped.

And then they saw it; a monster, bird-like legs bringing a jaw full of pointed teeth and enormous furry body rushing towards them. Haagasu barely heard his own scream as he latched onto his brother, eyes wide as their father shot one, two, three arrows at the monster, all pointedly ignored as it reared over them, spewing spit and blood on them as it bellowed. That long tongue lashed out, and their father was there, standing between them and the beast, and then he was gone with a sickening crunch of bones and cries, mingled with those of his sons.

Haagasu, face buried in his brothers shirt, dimly heard Tegu’s voice over his own hysterical screams. Tegu was singing, a wild, frantic tune, his arms wrapped so tightly around his younger brother it hurt, and Haagasu, despite it all, struggled to catch the words-

Can we let the sun still shine
Or rip into 15 pieces,
Will you be ready when it comes
Will you be ready when it takes your heart
Will you know what to say--

And everything went white. It was warm, and blinding in it’s brilliance, and reminded him of swimming in the river during the summer with the hot sun flashing over the water. He could distantly hear Tegu singing again, but this time it was a sad song, and he wondered when Tegu had left his grasp.

Tegu… He pried his eyes open, desperate to find his twin. The light that met his eyes blinded him, before it was replaced by a shadow.

“Ah, you’ve awoken,”

Haagasu scrunched up his face, and tried to focus his eyes on the face of one of the tribal elders leaning over him.

“Where’s Tegu?” He sat up abruptly, but the man gently pushed him back against the pillow.

“Tegu is busy right now. How are you feeling?”

“I’ll feel fine when I have Tegu. Where is he?” Haagasu sat up again, scowling in what was surely a disrespectful manner. His father would chastise him when he found out—

“Where’s father? Is he okay? Is he alright?” Haagasu panicked, throwing off the heavy fur blanket and swinging his bare feet out of the bed and onto the floor.

The elder put a steady hand on his shoulder to stop him from standing up. “Your father…” Haagasu felt his heart swell with hate. He hated that pitying look the man was giving him, sad eyes, sad like the song he had heard Tegu singing.

“Tell me where he is!”

The man took a heavy breath. “The man-eaters killed your father,”

Haagasu felt winded, like the time he and Tegu had fought and his brother had punched him in the stomach. “Where’s Tegu?” he whispered, now almost scared of the answer.

“Outside the village with the man-eaters-“ and the elder cringed, realising his poor choice of wording, but Haagasu was already on his feet, screaming in protest, no longer calm or scared. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he tore out of the tent, the elder shaking his head.

“Tegu! Tegu!! Where are you!” he flew, feet barely touching the ground, toward the wooden gate that marked the entrance to the village.

“Haagasu?”

His heart leapt. There was Tegu, perched on the top of the gate, twisted around to see his brother. “Tegu!” Haagasu stopped just before the gate, neck craned back to look up at his identical twin. He paused, noting the hesitant look in his brothers eyes, and finally how very unusual is was for anyone to be sitting atop the wooden gate.

“…What are you doing up there?”

Tegu’s eyes briefly darted back to the forest just outside the village, before returning to his little brother. “You were asleep for so long, I decided to wait outside for you to wake up.”

“I was?”

Tegu nodded, and carefully began shimmying down the post to the ground. “A whole week. I was scared you weren’t going to wake up,”

“Oh,” Haagasu watched as Tegu jumped the last few feet to the ground, trembling slightly.

Tegu noticed. “Why are you shaking?”

He felt his lip tremble, fighting to keep his face neutral, but failed. He flung himself at his older twin. “Elder said the monsters killed Father! And then he said you and the Man-easters—and I was so scared you were gone and—" Haagasu sobbed, and cried harder in relief as his brother returned the hug.

“Father is gone, but the monsters won’t take anyone else. I won’t let them. They won’t hurt me, or you, or anyone ever again,” Tegu looked back across the gate, where the echos of his vengeful song were still fading, and the crows were taking up the cry as they gathered to feast on the remains of the Man-Eaters.

He hugged his little brothers quivering form closer, and picked a new song to sing, a soft song.

Little brother, little brother, stop crying, stop crying
Though you are crying and crying, who else will carry you
Who else will groom you, both of us are now orphans
From the island of the dead, their spirit will continue to look after us

Haagasu let the melody sooth and reassure him. Nothing would separate them.

----------
“Nothing” came swifter than anyone could have predicted. Men with stern faces dressed in stiff green armour came from the distant city of Touran, sent by an Emperor Haagasu didn’t even know ruled their tribe. These adults, so much crueller than even the grumpiest Elder, reminded Haagasu of the man-eating monsters. And when they pulled Tegu aside to speak with him “privately” (as though Tegu wouldn’t tell his twin afterward regardless of what they said), he changed his mind, wishing that the Man-Eaters hadn’t left, that they were still around and would barge through the village gates and gobble up those men.

But there were no Man-Eaters, and the Elders shook in their leather boots when the soldiers brandished their swords. Their heavy boots left deep footprints in the soil, and the smell of their armour stung his nose so much that he could smell when they started heading back towards the Elder’s tent.

The Elder bowed to the soldiers with feigned respect, and Haagasu heard the worst words of his life:

“He has agreed to come with us,” one of the men said.

“Who? Tegu? Where are you taking us?” Haagasu didn’t bother to pretend he hadn’t been eavesdropping.

“You, boy, are staying here,” Maybe, if Haagasu hadn’t understood that they wanted to take his brother away from him, he would have been frightened by the fierce tone in the man’s voice. But instead it was the implication of those words that made his blood boil.

“You can’t take him anywhere! He won’t let you! He’s my brother!” Haagasu protested, and his eyes caught Tegu’s, where he was standing still and silent between two other armoured men.

The sick pallor and distress in Tegu’s eyes spoke volumes, and Haagasu called out to him.

“Tegu! Don’t go with them!” The Urudai Elder struggled to hold back the younger twin, who grew even more hysterical as Tegu turned away, ushered towards the gates by those men from Touran.

“Tegu!! Don’t! Come back!” Haagasu wailed, frantic to fight, to take his brother back, to stop this nightmare as it happened before his eyes.

It wasn’t until Tegu had passed out of sight beyond the village gates that the Elder, and the other men who had joined in restraining him cautiously released him, and Haagasu fell to his knees, overwhelmed by grief.

He wasn’t sure if anyone else had heard it, but his ears rung with the softly mouthed words his brother had uttered before being ushered away:

I’ll never sing for anyone but you.

---------------

* the first lyrics are a folk song from Amami Island.
* the second lyrics are a traditional Baegu lullaby from the Solomon Islands, translated by Celsus Eloga Talifilu.

Magic

Tue, 09 Oct 2007 04:25:27 GMT

word count: 7735
characters: Hikitsu
warnings: Oodles of original characters. It takes a village to raise a child, and unfortunately I have to make up the entire village.
note 1: Emtato Chen aka Emthatt Chen aka Hikitsu’s real name. Just in case anyone isn’t clear on that.

May be continued? Or ditched and compeltely re-written should I feel so motivated.

Emtato considered himself to be extremely logical. He by far preferred to see how and why something worked, than to be bothered with the superstition and magic his family fretted about.

The autumn festival was perhaps not the best time to be logical. The long grasses of the steep valleys were turning a dull yellow, and most of the Kan tribes limited crops had been harvested. The elders had already predicted a particularly harsh winter, but Emtato could smell delectable scents coming from different tents as each family prepared their own contribution for the feast.

“Mother,” Emtato propped his elbows on the table where his mother stood, busily chopping vegetables. “Why are we having a feast?”

The sharp knife in his mothers hands scrapped across the wooden cutting board, pushing the diced carrots onto a plate already brimming with brightly coloured vegetables. “Because tonight is the harvest festival,” she explained.

“I know, but why? Shouldn’t we store as much as we can?”

His mother smoother a hand over his blond hair and smiled patiently. “That’s not something you need to worry about. There will be plenty left for the winter.”

Emtato ducked away from the hand mussing his hair and narrowed his eyes. He could still remember the sharp pains of hunger from the previous winter, and the wailing of starving infants in the night. “What if there’s not enough for Aila?”

The smile froze on her face, and her eyes darted to the crib in the corner of the room that held her sickly infant. The newborn baby was weak and tiny. “Aila is going to be healthy and strong like her big brother,” she lied, finding it in herself to say it with enough tenderness and conviction to pacify her son. “There will be enough for everyone.”

Emtato scowled, and his mother let out a soft laugh at his look. “No faces like that allowed today! I think some of the other boys are down by the river. Why don’t you go fishing with them? We’ll cook what you catch for the meal tonight,” she put down the knife and shooed him towards the door of their canvas tent.

Emtato left without any complaints and followed his mothers direction, heading toward the river after a quick detour to pick up a stick, string and hook to make a fishing pole. The sky was bright and cloudless, and the sun was pleasantly warm on his face as he walked towards the water. But autumn had definitely given the air a chill. Just two days ago he had finally agreed to wear his boots to keep his feet from the cold earth. However as he crested the hill, he could see that the river was busy like any summer day. Shirts and shoes littered the ground as a dozen or so young boys, most of them a year or so older than Emtato, splashed and swam in the lazy current.

“Hey! It’s Chen!”

Emtato looked up at hearing his family name, immediately regretting coming down to the water. The boy who has spotted him, Tohen, was ten; a full two years older than Emtato, and that much more intimidating.

“Hey Emtato! Want to go swimming?” One of the others taunted.

“No,” Emtato sat down on a boulder well away from the shore and the steep drop into the deep water. He busied himself with tying the delicate thread onto the end of a stick that would be his simple fishing rod.

“Yeah, always too scared to go in the water!” Another laughed, and a few of the boys stood up to stumble through the current and rocks towards the shore.

“Come on, Chen! It’s the last swim of the summer! You know want to come in!” Tohen stood on the pebbly ground, barefoot and bold with his hands on his hips.

Emtato was young, but no fool, and was quite familiar with the predatory look in the older boys eyes. “I can’t swim,” he said, jumping to his feet and backing away as the others crowded closer.

“You should learn then, you little baby,” Tohen’s grin widened, and he pushed one of the other boys towards Emtato. “Go on, bring him over!”

“No!” Emtato shouted as a hand grabbed him around the wrist.

“Yeah, let’s go! Into the water!” A second pair of hands grabbed him and Emtato’s heart went cold with fear. Anywhere but the water. A pit of rocks. A stampede of wild horses. He struggled against the hands pulling him to the shore, but his trembling knees gave out from under him and Tohen wasted no time in hoisting him up by his ankles.

“No, no, please,” Emtato’s terrified eyes shifted to the dark water of the river which was no longer flowing smoothly but instead choppy as the frantic pace of his own heartbeat.

“Up and… One…” Tohen and the two other boys swung the hysterical boy by his wrists and ankles, as the others swam closer to egg them on. “Two… Three!” In mid swing they all let go and Emtato, with flailing limbs and a last terrified yelp, fell into the water.

He landed with a dull splash in the frenzied river current, and the boys cheers and whoops lasted a few moments until a hush fell. Emtato’s body was facedown and eerily still.

“Tohen, is he alright?”

Tohen gulped, starring at the unmoving body and vaguely aware of how suddenly the water had calmed. “It’s his own fault! If he wasn’t always so scared of the water…!”

“Hey, we should go before we get in trouble,” Someone whispered, and with a murmur of agreement the group stumbled out of the water, leaving a wide berth around Emtato, and gathered up their shoes and shirts. They all shivered, glancing nervously back and forth at each other, desperate to leave, but also fearing the terrible wrath of the Elder Chen if they were to return home without the man’s son.

“Someone get him out of the water!” Tohen finally shouted, pushing his two closest friends back towards the river.

Neither of them moved to help. “You started it, you save him!” they protested.

Tohen bristled in rage, unused to their defiance, but quickly conceded. “Fine then,” He dashed into the deathly calm river and reached out to grab the floating body. “I’ll save him, and then Chen will own me his life, and-" His fingers just managed to brush against the sodden fabric of Emtato’s shirt before the water moved.

With a gurgle, the river defied its own current and a wave surged up. It pummelled the shocked Tohen and sent him flying back into the rocky shore. He landed with a sickening crunch. Emtato himself raised his head for the first time in several minutes with a desperate gasp, and with the push of the angry waves he managed to flounder his way back to land.

Emtato coughed and hacked, the sharp little rocks of the shore digging into his quaking palms and knees, water pooling around him as it drained off his skin and clothes in rivulets. The burning in his lungs subsided, and he managed to look up, only to be met by the horrified looks of the other boys. He turned his head to the right and was met with Tohen’s vacant eyes, still open in a look of surprise, and long silver hair splayed out along the rocks in a mixture of dark blood and pink water. Emtato looked back at the other boys, confused and shocked.

“He killed Tohen!” Someone said with a shrill cry. At those words the boys turned and fled back towards home, leaving the stunned Emtato alone with the lifeless body of Tohen.
----------

“From this clearing sky’s blue we learn to know the light of understanding. From this far shimmering steppe we take the generosity of an open heart. From the quick rivers which are never still we draw faith in attainment of our goals, from the unmoving patient mountains grey with age we hear the legend of the will that endures,” Gadamba’s old voice boomed.

The people of the Kan tribe sat before him, taking in the revered shamans words with a mixture of awe and horror. The foods for their autumn feast were spread out on blankets with tantalising scents wafting through the evening air. But the elder’s usual blessing of bountiful harvests and harmony was instead a warning, and all those present found themselves without an appetite.

“In the three singing months of summer we feel youth's force within us, on the autumn that withers the lush steppe we gain the hardness that withstands trials, in the rime of winter's ringing frost we read the life of our own whitening hair. In the endless reaches of our homeland is knowledge of the law of life.” Gadamba finished his benediction, but no one moved to eat.

Tohen’s mother, Dzaya, wept bitterly, clutching her solemn husband close by his silk robes. Whispered words stung the crisp air. What exactly had happened by the river, that a child would die? And such unusual circumstances; that the Chen son had somehow been involved, and the unnatural movement of the water the children had described…

Women held tightly onto their children, fearful that this strange occurrence might somehow come to claim their own kindred out from their protective embrace. Among them all, Emtato sat between his father and mother, little Aila bundled in blankets and cradled against her mothers breast. As a family they sat tall with cold expressions, painfully aware of the rumours and suspicious glares.

“Gadamba!” Dzaya, face streaked in tears, finally stood and looked the shaman in the eyes. “Why, when have I lost my son, does the culprit dare to sit with us?” She pointed a finger, shaking with grief and fury, at Emtato, who’s pale skin turned a faint green at the accusation.

“Omniscience belongs only to Genbu. The presence of malevolent spirits harm us, but a steadfast heart will allow one to see what must be done to regain favour here under the Blue Sky in which Genbu dwells. Until He sees fit to grant us with a sign, we must accept that which we cannot understand.” Gadamba’s weathered face remained impassive as he cast his piercing blue gaze over his tribe, settling only for the briefest moment on Emtato’s fearful face.

“Mother,” Emtato whispered, eyes still fixated on the Elder’s imposing form. “Am I a malevolent spirit?” He’d never believed in ghosts before, and didn’t like to think he was somehow turning into one.

“No, never, Emtato,” she cooed, but she did not move to touch his hair, or rub his back in soothing circles as she would have done before.

“Then let him be banished until Genbu gives us a sign of what to do with him! I will not eat with a murderer!” Dzaya stepped over the food’s spread along the ground towards Emtato. “Child, leave us!”

“You can give no such order,” Emtato’s father spoke in a low, calm voice. “We all share your loss during what should haven been a time of celebration. Sit and let us celebrate your son’s life with you,”

Some of the families nodded in agreement with Elder Chen’s words, while others hoped the Shaman would give some indication that they could support the distressed mother. There was something not right with that family, and especially the son. Gadamba said nothing and made no move to interfere, so they made for a tense audience, watching the scene before them.

“Never,” Dzaya spat, and she crouched down to be level with Emtato. He felt that same chill in his gut that he had felt when around Tohen as she leaned close, hard brown eyes radiating hatred. “How did you do it? What spirit possesses you that you can move the water? What beast gave you the courage to kill a brother of your tribe?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t do anything!” Emtato scooted backwards, and his father held out an arm to prevent Dzaya from pursuing him.

“Liar! Coward! Murderer!” she sobbed, enraged that the boy would avoid her questions.

“Dzaya, control yourself!” but she fought off the larger man, and Emtato sprang to his feet to run away, Tohen’s mother hot on his heels.

Her hand clamped down on his shoulder, and Emtato stumbled with a cry of pain. His vision blurred and his eyes stung. The angry woman behind him was forgotten as his hands flew up to claw at his face. His right eye felt like it was burning a hole through his head, and he screamed. There was noise all around him now; voices and rushing water and howling winds filled his ears as his vision left him. The earth seemed to roll under his feet. He felt himself being spun around, and distantly felt a cold slap to his face, and the iron grip hurting his shoulders.

“Look me in the eye and tell me what you did!” Dzaya raged at him. The stinging of his eyes subsided, and Emtato managed to open them, but his vision felt oddly blurred and distorted. Dzaya gasped and let go of him as though she had been burned.

“It’s a sign!” She yelled. “A curse!” and then she froze, unnaturally still, brown eyes transfixed on the glowing symbol that had replaced the pupil and iris of Emtato’s right eye.

Hey Emtato! Want to go swimming?

Emtato found himself standing inexplicably back at the riverbank, sun bright in the morning, and a confused Dzaya standing beside him.

No. The sound of his own voice made him look to the water where he could see himself and the other boys, exactly as they had been that morning.

Yeah, always too scared to go in the water!

Come on, Chen! It’s the last swim of the summer! You know want to come in!

Dzaya let out a heart-wrenching sob at the sight of her son, and rushed to him, but cried out again as she passed right through the memory of Tohen.

I can’t swim,

You should learn then, you little baby,

“What is this?” Dzaya turned on Emtato, eyes blazing and fresh tears coursing down her cheeks. “What magic is this? What are you doing?!” She screamed at him, and Emtato cowered.

“I don’t know! I don’t know what’s going on! I don’t believe in magic!”

She moved to grab Emtato again, but the vision surrounding them shimmered like a mirage on a hot day, to be replaced with a much younger Dzaya, propped up in bed with a young baby in her arms.

Isn’t he beautiful? Strong and smart, just like his father. ‘Tohen’, for he will be a great man.

The Dzaya the Emtato knew fell to her knees beside her bed, desperate to take her child away from her past self, but unable to do so.

And again, the image surrounding them trembled and changed again; this time Tohen was learning to walk. And again; Tohen leaving to follow his father on his first hunt. Again and again, faster each time, the images swam around them, and Emtato, still unable to see clearly, clutched his head. Dzaya’s hysterical cries were like knives.

“Stop!” He finally shrieked, and collapsed on the ground, eyes squeezed shut. He prayed to Genbu for the first time in his life; please make it stop. Please let the grass under his fingers be real. Please let his mother come hold him and fix whatever this was. Please make the spirit inside of him leave. Please, he’d never doubt Genbu again, if only this would all stop!

He could still hear Dzaya sobbing and wailing near him, so he kept his eyes tightly closed, and flinched when a hand rested upon his shoulder. It was a large, heavy hand; for a brief moment he thought it was his father, but Gadamba’s creaky words met his ears.

“Why do I feel this nakedness of spirit?” he old man started in his usual way. “Do you mean no harm, or have you a purpose? Your vigilance unnerves me,” and Emtato wondered if the Shaman was speaking to himself or Genbu. He shivered on the cold ground, hands pressed over his eyes. Was this his punishment for not believing? For not understanding the purpose of a wasteful feast?

There had always been a reason Emtato never liked magic. It didn’t make sense, he couldn’t understand it. But Genbu was cruel, it seemed. And things were not going to go back to normal.
---
‘Harbinger of destruction’ were the words he heard. He didn’t quite understand what a harbinger was, but no one was speaking to him, and he was fairly certain it was a bad thing, so asking didn’t seem necessary. Emtato scratched at the itchy bandages wrapped around his head. He couldn’t see out of his right eye anymore, but it bothered him that the other blind man in the tribe did not have to cover his eyes.

Of course, no one went insane when they looked into old Migu’s face.

Emtato had once peered into the man’s sightless eyes with a morbid curiosity. There was still a hint of discoloured pupil and an unnatural pale blue quality to the iris, obscured by milky white streaks. It reminded him of the trances Gadamba sometimes entered, where his eyes rolled back into his head. Gadamba would later awaken and tell of the things he had seen.

Emtato wondered if maybe that’s what his eyes did; without a pupil to see the present with, his eyes somehow turned inward to see other things. It would at least explain the chaotic visions of Tohen’s life.

He rubbed at his eye again before wrapping his arms around his knees again. He was hiding behind his family’s tent to avoid the fear in this mothers eyes and the scathing looks of the other families in the tribe. He had hoped people would forget about it if they didn’t see him, but it seemed there wasn’t much else people were talking about; he could still hear adults walking around, not-so-discretely discussing what had happened.

“Genbu has marked him! I saw his eye before Gadamba covered it,”
“It’s a bad omen. This mountain is not safe,”
“But it’s too late in the season! We can’t move until the spring,”
“Gadamba was more right than I thought; it will be a dangerous winter,”
“I heard the Ha tribe was attacked by a monster. Do you think it was the Chen boy?”

Emtato shivered. On the other side of the canvas, inside his family’s tent he could hear Aila start to cry as she woke up. Emtato started to lift up the bottom of the thick canvas to crawl back into the tent when he heard his mother.

“Please, stop,” she said weakly. Emtato slipped unnoticed into the tent and hid behind a chair, watching with his one good eye as his mother leaned heavily on the edge of his sisters crib. Aila ignored the request and began to wail. Her mother made no move to comfort her.

“I spoke with Gadamba,” Emtato nearly jumped as his father strode in through the door.

“And?”

“He suggested we release both of them. Angry spirits have clearly possessed both of them,” His father spoke quietly. Emtato’s stomach twisted, realizing his father was talking about him and Aila. Possessed. He knew about spirits; the sort who made children sick, killed their animals, and brought grief to families. The worst cases were “released”; taken away and killed, or left behind as the tribe moved to new land.

“But I’ve tried so hard,” Emtato had never heard his mother sound so sad before. It sounded like she was crying, but he couldn’t see her face from his spot behind the chair. “I’ve done nothing to displease Genbu. Why hasn’t he protected my children?”

Emtato’s father took two fluid steps to stand behind his wife, placing his hands gently on her waist. “We cannot control the will of the gods,”

“I’ve tried to hard to raise Emtato well. Even harder to make Aila healthy,” she was visibly shaking now, fingers white from her grip on the edge of the crib. Aila wheezed noisily for a moment and resumed her crying.

“I know,”

“I love them,”

“As do I,” he hugged her from behind. “But we also love our brethren. It is unfair to endanger everyone out of love.”

“One more season,” she finally raised her head to look her husband in the eye. “Don’t ask me to give up my children now. Tell Gadamba to wait until the spring,”

“Gadamba has only so much patience, and you’ve prolonged the pain by refusing so many times,” He said simply, but his gaze was understanding.

“One more season to try and heal them. Please. I’ll do all I can to gain Genbu’s blessing,” she clutched at his sleeve, fixing him with her pleading, tear streaked eyes.

“I will tell him,” He kissed her cheek softly, and then left.

With the sigh of a woman who bore the weight of the world, she exhaled, brushed the tears from her face and finally moved to sooth her infant.

Emtato sat frozen behind the chair. He and Aila were going to be released. It was such a horrifying concept he could hardly breathe. A sudden thought occurred to him, and he slipped out from under the tent as noiselessly as he had entered.

If he could get rid of whatever spirit it was that was possessing him, and the one that was making Aila sick, then there would be no problem. He would stay with his tribe, his sister would be safe, and his mother happy.

Emtato stole around the cluster of circular canvas homes that made up their temporary village, carefully avoiding the adults. All the other children were confined within the tents, watched over by fearful mothers and grandmothers. He wasn’t too sure how to dispel spirits. He’d never really cared when Gadamba would sit before all the children of the tribe to tell tales of pious heroes and the wonders of Genbu’s magic. He’d never believed them to be anything but stories. He’d never seen real magic before; the first grass in the spring, the excited howls of wolves in the summer and the wonder of fresh snow always made him glow with delight, but it hardly seemed magical.

He stayed off the trail that lead to Gadamba’s secluded tent, instead working his way through the small trees toward the tiny home tucked away from the ordinary bustle of the tribe. Gadamba was wise. The old man knew all about omens and spirits and magic. Emtato would ask him how to get rid of the spirit that had used him to hurt Tohen and Dzaya. For one terrifying moment, he wondered if it was the same spirit that was using him to make his sister sick.

“She has until the river thaws,” he neared the shaman’s hut, and could see the old man sitting outside in the sun, facing Emtato’s father.

“Thank you for your patience and generosity,” Emtato’s father bowed respectfully.

Gadamba nodded in return. “A man’s children are precious, but the Kan tribe has many children for me to watch over beyond your own family. One has already been lost to the spirit possessing your son,” Emtato saw the eyes of that crinkled old face flick towards where he stood, partially concealed by the bushes. “But tell your wife she will not be alone in her endeavour as long as no one else comes to harm,”

“I understand,” Emtato’s father bowed once more and left down the trail of dried grass.

Neither Gadamba nor Emtato moved until the other man had cleared the hilltop.

“Why are you here?” The old man closed his eyes and remained sitting as Emtato cautiously emerged from the bushes.

“How can I make the spirit in me go away?” Emtato sat down cross-legged before the Elder.

“Was it not you who told Naran that there were no such things as spirits?” he asked, in a calm, steady voice.

Emtato flushed in embarrassment, unable to tell if the old man was teasing or not. He had, in fact, come across a girl a few days ago from one of the other families, crying because of a frightening story Tohen had told her. The tale of a snake-spirit that lived in the river who enjoyed drowning little girls who went swimming. Emtato had eagerly explained how snakes could not live in the water, and that it was the current that sometimes drowned those who could not swim, but if she practised swimming in slow, shallow water, there would be nothing to fear. That the consolation came from a boy who refused to be within a step of the rivers edge hadn’t seemed to bother her.

Gadamba kept his eyes closed, but it was clear he was waiting for Emtato to offer an explanation for his sudden change of heart.

“Well, this is a different sort of spirit. It’s real, and it hurt people,” Emtato offered hesitantly.

The shaman still did not reply.

“I don’t know what it is, or what’s happening. But I don’t want to be…” He couldn’t imagine sitting alone on the hill, after all the tents had been packed and the horses loaded up, watching his family and tribe leave without looking back.

Emtato shook his head to clear his mind. “I have to make it go away. How can I do that?”

Gadamba released a long, slow breath. “Uncover your eye,” he commanded. Emtato complied, unwrapping the scratchy fabric from over his right eye. He blinked several times, but his left eye was still the only one to see.

The old man finally opened his own eyes, and gazed levelly at Emtato’s face.

“…Hikitsu…”

“Huh?” Emtato blinked. What was a ‘Hikitsu’?

The old man closed his eyes and sat very still for a moment, visibly shaking, and face contorted as though caught in a violent battle in his head.

“Are you okay, sir? What’s wrong?” Was Gadamba also going to go crazy from looking in his eye?

But Gadamba finally let out a tired groan and spoke: “Forgive me, child. There is nothing you or I can do. It is no ordinary spirit within you. Genbu himself has cursed you.” Gadamba took the long strip of cloth from Emtato’s hands and promptly began winding it around the boys head to once again hide the blind eye from sight.

“Wait, no! What’s a Hikitsu? Why has Genbu cursed me?” Emtato tried to stop the shaman from tying a snug knot in the end of the cloth bandage. “Tell me what’s happening!”

The look Gadamba fixed him with was one of such sorrow that Emtato wished he hadn’t asked anything. “Hikitsu is a demon sent by Genbu when we are no longer worthy of his generosity. You will destroy everything we have to start a new reign in His name.”

“…What have we done wrong?”

Gadamba paused in reflection. “It seems the spirit that has cursed your eye will show anyone the mistakes they have made.”

Emtato stared, dumbfounded. What did that mean? “I don’t understand, sir.”

“You can do nothing about what will come to pass. Just… don’t show your eye to anyone.” Gadamba opened his eyes finally to focus on finishing tying the cloth over Emtato’s eye. “I assume you know we will leave you here after the winter,”

Emtato nodded. His throat felt so tight he didn’t think he would ever speak again.

“I will not force you out of the tribe before then. But consider what may happen if you stay until the Spring.”

He could still see the bloody skull of Tohen in his mind, and hear the hysterical shrieks of the boy’s mother ringing in his ears. It was all too easy to imagine the other people he could hurt, just by being around them. Without a word he bowed to the Elder, stood and left toward the river.

----------

Hikitsu. What an awful name. Appropriate for the monster that Gadamba had described. Emtato sat on the rocky shore, shaded by the sand-covered roots of a tree protruding from the steep, eroded river bank. He was far upstream from where Tohen had died yesterday. The river looked different without his once sharp vision to pinpoint how the afternoon sun refracted on the water’s surface. Instead it looked like a sea of fuzzy circular lights. A whole different universe.

Nothing was easy to see or explain anymore. It was all blurry, like his limited understanding of the spirits world. It was frightening to be faced with the superstition he had always ignored, to discover it was all real, like finding out the bogey-man really did exist.

Emtato stared at the rushing water, allowing himself to be lost in the unfamiliar movements of the light. Something about the unknown depths had always terrified him; he’s refused to learn to swim, much to his fathers chagrin, but it had been so much trouble to even get his feet bare and touching the water that his father had eventually given up on him. And yet here he was, like countless other times when he felt there was nowhere else to go, sitting by the shore, transfixed by the very substance he feared.

The water swishing over the shallow rocks whispered to him; Hikitsu. And he felt a chill clutch his heart.

Emtato chucked a stone at the water, hoping it would interrupt the noise of the flowing water, but it landed with only the faintest ‘splunk’ and the swifts continued to whisper the name of his Spirit, calling him closer.

Hikitsu…

“Stop saying that!” he shouted. It was hard to see exactly, but for the slightest moment the water quelled away from him before returning to it’s regular current, lapping at the shore and rushing over the slime-covered rocks.

“What do you want?” he asked, half expecting a reply. He was almost disappointed when the sound of the water didn’t change.

“Oh, Emtato!” He jumped hearing his name, and turned to see his mother coming over the hill towards him, an empty pail swinging from her hand. He wondered if he should run away.

“I was wondering where you were,” She strode to the rivers edge and dipped the bucket into the water.

“I’m running away,” Emtato said matter-of-factly.

She stood, considering her son for a long moment. “Why? Would you break your poor mothers heart?” There was only the slightest hint of joking in her voice.

Emtato shook his head. “I thought it’d be easier if I left,” he offered.

“Nonsense,” she deftly tied back her long, thin hair with a string and with two thin arms hefted up the brimming bucket. “Now, why don’t you help me carry this back home?”

He sighed and complied, reaching out a hand to help steady the heavy pail as he walked alongside his mother. He wanted so much to make his family happy and proud, to just go back to being normal.

Though it would be so much easier to at least pretend to be normal if the water in the bucket didn’t keep splashing up to caress his white fingers with chilling touches, continually whispering the name Hikitsu.

---
Emtato made a point of staring at his feet. He didn’t want to risk anyone seeing his eye, even if it was still bandaged. He had also never realised how hard it was to notice rocks and uneven ground without the ability to simply glance and take in the terrain in an instant. Staring intently at the ground seemed to help.

And perhaps, if no one saw his face, they’d eventually forget he had one, and would refer to him as “the boy with poor posture who always looks at his shoes” instead of “the boy with the eye”. However the hushed chatter that followed him had not lessened in the past few weeks. But he could be patient. He had the whole winter to make them forget he was there. He busied himself with chores in an attempt to ignore the frightened adults and bullying of the other children.　

There were lots of chores to be done, and with the air thick with the anticipation of the seasons first snow, and his ninth birthday fast approaching he was big enough to help out more than he had in previous winters. At least that’s what his mother said, and she provided an unending list of tasks. There were animals to be skinned, cellars to be dug, traps and nets to repair, winter blankets and clothes to be sewn, prayers for a gentle winter to be sung… In fact, Emtato’s mother had taught him so many new prayers for blessings and health and safety that he was starting to get confused. And annoyed. Why did he have to pray to Genbu, if Genbu was the one mucking around and putting evil spirits in his life in the first place?

Voicing those thoughts was a bad move though, sending his mother into a righteous tirade about piety and love and thankfulness. Emtato didn’t really know what he had to be thankful for, but apologized and continued to follow his mothers ringing chants with his own mumbled words.

There was frost on the ground this morning, and if his vision had been sharper, Emtato was sure the yellow grasses, all laced in crisp white ice, would be a sight to see. But he kept his eyes on his boots, listening to the light crunch of frozen grass under his feet. Emtato was humming the simple tune of a prayer meant to keep the river spirits alive during the frozen winter as he idly swung an empty bucket. His mother needed to warm some water for Aila’s bath, and although he was less than enthusiastic to head down to the river, he followed his mothers request.

Emtato heard the river hissing the name Hikitsu even before he could hear it’s regular gurgle. He clenched his teeth, determined to ignore it, and hummed a little louder, if only it would distract him from the eerie words.

He slid down the slope to the river bank, and stood back far enough from the water, now almost used to how it surged up along the ground further than the current normally would, just as desperate to touch him as he was to avoid it.

“Peace, I ask of the O river,” Emtato stopped humming and instead spoke the words as he crouched down, bucket held in front of himself defensively, and he felt his chest swell with relief when the water did nothing unusual. He paused and listened; the water even sounded normal. No words he could hear, no unnatural movements.

“Peace, peace, peace,” Emtato continued, heartened by the sheer normalcy of the water. Maybe there was more to the prayers his mother taught him than he thought. He continued with the words as he edged closer. He dipped the bucket into the river. Emtato gasped as the water swelled up around the bucket and ripped it from his grasp, pulling it down into the deeper current. He jumped back, heart racing, as the smooth flow of the water became choppy, creeping up the shore and saying that word louder than before.

“Go away!” Emtato allowed himself to yell before turning on his heel and pealing back to the village.

His mother was outside their tent, boney hands firmly wringing water out of a freshly washed shirt. She looked up as he ran towards her, colliding with her legs, burying his face in the scratchy wool of her heavy skirt.

“Emtato, what’s wrong?” she worked his small fists out of the fabric of her clothes so she could kneel in front of him. She didn’t smooth out his hair, or rub soothing circles in his back, only rested her hands on his shoulders as he panted, catching his breath.

“The water-“ and Emtato stopped suddenly. No one knew the river was obsessed with the spirit in his eye. No one knew he could hear it whispering or that the true reason Tegu had died was not because of some spirit possessing him, but because the water went all funny when he was around it. And he was trying to be normal for his mother. Normal boys aren’t chased by water. “I dropped the bucket in the water,” he lied.

“Oh Emtato,” she laughed and stood up. “The way you came running over here I thought something had happened!” She held out her hand for him to take, and he did, letting his cold fingers be enveloped by her warm ones. “Come, it probably washed onshore a little further down,”

He nodded mutely, already feeling guilty about lying, but followed her back towards the water. He wanted to sing the prayer again as the river came into sight, but was scared she’d wonder at his sudden change in attitude, after making such a fuss over the uselessness of such things. So he kept quiet, mentally running the words through his head in a desperate mantra. Strength to lead and faith to follow, all are given unto me.

He was staring hard at the water, as it flowed innocently along it’s normal course. He barely noticed when his mother stopped walking. Only noticed when she released his hand and he looked up to see her cross features and arms folded over her chest.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

Emtato blinked up at her, clueless. And then he saw the bucket. Sitting primly on the shoreline, undamaged and filled neatly to the brim.

“I… I dropped it in the water! Someone else must have picked it up!” Oh please don’t let mother think he lied for… for whatever reason. Well he did lie. But not with the intention of taking up his mothers time. And there was no one around. No one would pick up a lost bucket, fill it, and leave it on the shore before going on their way.

The look on his mothers face seemed in indicate she was thinking something similar. “Honestly, Emtato, I don’t know what this is about,” she picked up the bucket and propped it on her hip. “There’s a lot that needs to be done. There’s no time for these games,” Annoyance made her voice sharp and Emtato wanted somehow to make her understand.

“I don’t know what’s happening! Please, I’m sorry!” He reached out to grab hold of her sleeve and without warning, all the water leapt out of the bucket, drenching his shirt and his mothers woolen skirt.

“Ah! Emtato! Look what you’ve done!” She dropped the empty bucket and flicked her hands in an attempt to dry them. Emtato was staring at his soaked shirt with a mixture of horror and disbelief. “Fill up the bucket, please,” said his mother, as she wrung the cold water out of her clothing. She caught his horrified expression and sighed, picking it up to thrust it at him. “Let’s go, now,”

Emtato took the bucket reluctantly and shuffled to the edge of the river. “When I learn to live serenely, cares will cease,” he whispered the song, almost mouthing it so his mother wouldn’t hear. But it seemed to be enough; the river stayed calm. Once again he lowered the bucket to the water, clutching it tightly in his hands, praying with all his heart.

…Hikitsu

Emtato stiffened as, just inches from the surface of the water, the river moved and a small stream of water raised itself up to flow gently into the bucket. He sat frozen, even after with a bubbly sigh the water returned to normal, leaving him with a filled bucket of clean water. No grime, silt or particles to be seen.

“Come now, fill it up and let’s get back,” His mother sounded impatient, and clearly hadn’t seen this unearthly occurrence. So although he felt like vomiting, Emtato stood up, both hands grasping the heavy bucket and followed his mother back toward home without a word.

----------

“What are you doing?”

Emtato jumped and whirled around to find himself face to face with Jebe, a boy who was old enough to be called a man, but still too young to command any respect among the adults. He was popular though, because of his long brown hair. The girls his age would giggle and blush when he would occasionally deign to let them braid it. It was braided now, twisted elegantly together over his shoulder so it rested over his chest. His friend Bhuka, whose white hair wasn’t nearly as long, stood just behind him, grinning.

“I asked what you were doing,”

Emtato flushed, turning his eyes to look at the ground. He relaxed enough to lean against the stone trough that held the horses drinking water behind him. “Nothing really,”

“Poisoning the horses water, probably,”

Emtato tensed, but said nothing in reply. He preferred they think that, then have them know he had taken to speaking his mothers prayers to dirty troughs of water.

Jebe looked somewhat annoyed that Emtato wasn’t getting agitated. “Seriously, what’s so interesting that you’re standing here for near an hour, staring at horse spit?”

“The water’s just really dirty,” he offered, hoping if he stayed as neutral and boring as possible the two boys would leave. He hadn’t spoken to any other children in a while, and found the whole process to be painfully awkward. Fear and underlying accusations of ‘he killed Tohen!’ were hidden in every exchanged word.

“Probably because of you,” Bhuka sneered. “You’ve made the tribe dirty with your curse,”

Emtato chose to remain silent, and the two boys seemed heartened by the passive nature of the object of their fear.

“Tohen was going to be my fathers apprentice, you know. Going to be taught by the best weaponsmith in the Kan tribe,” Jebe rushed, thrilled to finally have this outlet. “And you killed him. My father hates you,”

Emtato absently noticed the elegant silvery embroidery on Jebe’s leather boots. One of his girlfriends must have done it for him.

“My mother said you lost your eye to a water demon. Evil spirits aren’t allowed in the tribe. Why hasn’t Gadamba had you released yet? Has your eye made him go crazy, too? Crazy like Dzaya!” Bhuka taunted.

Emtato wondered what his simple black boots would look like with all that embroidery. Probably really girly.

The two boys were grasping at sticks now, trying to find something that would get a reaction out of the younger boy. “Seems evil spirits run in the family. When is your baby sister going to be released?”

Emtato couldn’t ignore that. “Aila is not sick!” He stood up straight, and sent a challenging glare to the boys, both of them at least a head taller than himself. “She’s not possessed,”

“No? Then it’s just you that’s killing her?” Jebe rested a fist on his hips and with his other hand heavily shoved the protesting Emtato back so he tripped backwards into the trough with a splash.

“No one keeps dirty things. Maybe if you stay there long enough you can be thrown out with the water, and no one will have to deal with you or your curse anymore,” Jebe and Bhuka spat at the water, and seemed to have completed their need to vent so left with no further words.

Emtato sat in the murky water with the decaying autumn leaves, heart pounding and single good eye stinging with tears. He brought his arms up to his knees and buried his head in his sopping wet sleeves, and cried. He didn’t want to make Aila sick. He didn’t want to be cursed. So he cried, not caring who saw him sitting in the dirty horse trough. He wanted to be thrown out. Then he could be alone to deal with this, instead of hurting his mother and sister and tribe.

Peace…

Emtato heard the dirty water swirl around the ankles of his boots ever so slightly. And for the first time let himself listen to it. Peace. Yes. His mother couldn’t bear to comfort her possessed son, his tribe wanted nothing to do with him. But at least his greatest enemy would speak to him, through watery caresses and gurgles. He could still find peace.

He tried to wipe his tears from his face, but only succeeded in smearing dirt across his cheeks. He pushed himself out of the trough and stood dripping for a moment before deciding he didn’t care. He started toward the river, ignoring his mother as she emerged from their family tent, bawling Aila in her arms, to ask his help with some chore.

The river was too cold for swimming now, and Emtato found the banks to be pleasantly vacant.

The water gurgled it’s usual welcome of Hikitsu, and though Emtato still despised the name, he chose to not yell or run away. He crouched down by the waters edge, closer than he had ever previously dared to, so close that the rippling current could easily stretch out and dampen the very toe of his boots.

He stretched a hand out, flat palm facing the water and with more courage than fear spoke the rivers name for the first time in his life. “Will you talk to me, Selenge?”

For a moment nothing happened, and the river seemed oddly still. Emtato wondered if maybe he was going crazy, coming to talk to a mindless river-

And with a great shudder a Spirit Emtato had only heard about lifted itself from the river. It was the huge, glistening form of a snake, made entirely of clear water, and despite the rain that seemed to flow off it’s liquid body in sheets, it never shrunk in size. Even with his poor sight, Emtato could see those hard dark eyes and could tell there was nothing imaginary or whimsical about this powerful spirit. His heart stuck in his throat, and any courage he had once thought he had vanished, and Emtato scrambled backwards away from the waters edge until he stopped, his ears catching the words of the Kan tribes river spirit.

Hikitsu, shall I teach you the nature of your curse?

Reassurance

Tue, 11 Sep 2007 06:23:58 GMT

word count: 306
characters: hikitsu, tomite
summary: Hikitsu finds guarding the shinzahou a challenge.

It was easy to forget things. Even easier to loose what little of himself he had left to the darkness of the cavern. It was a penetrating darkness; it filled his senses, clouded his mind, and left his soul feeling naked and vulnerable. It had almost hurt for a while, hurt as long as he could still remember the warmth of living, and the blinding light of the sun. But soon even that was forgotten, and his entire existence was devoted to protecting the remnants of Takiko’s divine power.

The smooth flow of time was interrupted only by the rare intrusion of thieves. He would often just watch the agonizing deaths in sick fascination. It must be horrible to die in the dark, Hikitsu would muse to himself. Though maybe less so when accompanied by the freezing temperatures. Perhaps the cold numbed the pain; their visitors would sometimes fall into a hypothermic sleep. If only he had such an easy escape.

He was dead, but Hikitsu didn't feel numb. Just cold, and blind, and raw.

But sometimes the cold would bite at his soul a little harder, and the imaginary monsters lurking in the deeper shadows around him would seem a little more real, and the few ties to sanity he had left would seem slightly weaker.

“Tomite?” he rasped out, his voice a shadow of what it had once been. He couldn’t see Tomite in the dark, and their ghostly bodies offered no heat; not even a slight sensation of touch or weight.

“I’m right here,” that blessed voice would reply. Maybe Tomite was only a figment of his imagination, but those few words were enough to reassure him. His heart swelled with relief and in the brief moment of clarity Hikitsu sighed and his lips curved, just the slightest, into a smile.

"I'm glad."

It Needs Some Colour

Thu, 12 Apr 2007 04:55:07 GMT

word count: 350
characters: Tomite, Hikitsu, Aila
summary: concerning hikitsus hair.

“Brother, your hair is longer than mine!” Aila exclaimed, reaching from where she sat beside him to tug at a lock of his silver blond hair.

“Oh, is it?” Hikitsu replied mildly without looking up from his book.

“You should cut it,” Tomite suggested. “What man has longer hair than his little sister?”

“A man who’s man enough not to care,” Hikitsu gave him a challenging glare.

“I think Chamuka is right,” Aila stood from the table to move behind him and swept his hair into a ponytail. “You’d look much better with short hair.”

Hikitsu felt his stomach drop. Aila wanted him to cut his hair…? “I disagree,”

“Your opinion doesn't count, especially since you don’t really care,” Tomite smirked. “But then again, only confident people have short hair.”

Hikitsu’s glare remained chilling and level.

“I think he could do short hair,” Aila said deftly. “It would be a nice change, don’t you think, Brother?”

“Why don’t you get the scissors and we can see for ourselves?” Tomite prompted, and Aila, all smiles, rushed to comply before Hikitsu could sputter any objection. Just how close would those scissors get before Hikitsu would actually say no to his precious little sister? Tomite rested his chin on his hand, and grinned at Hikitsu. “Excited?”

“I’m going to kill you later, just so you know,”

Twenty minutes later, the elder Seishi was looking rather green as he was greeted by a very different face in the mirror.

Tomite had tears of silent glee streaming down his cheeks, as Aila ‘evened up’ the mess of thin, short, spikes of hair. His sides were in stitches from his muted laughter.

“What do you think, Tomite?” Aila inquired innocently.

“It looks wonderful,” Tomite lied as he struggled to keep his laughter in check.

“What do you think, Brother?” Aila hugged his neck and leaned over his shoulder to took at him in the mirror.

“…I…”

Aila pouted at the lack of response. “Hm,” she straightened and gave her brothers new haircut a critical look. “You’re right. It needs some colour.”

Winner

Mon, 05 Mar 2007 06:56:25 GMT

word count: 581
characters: tomite, hikitsu

Tomite had his slacks rolled up over his knees as he waded in the shallowest part of the flooded river. The water held only a fraction of the cold now that it had finally thawed. Silver scales flashed in the merry sunlight, and Tomite would stalk close to the fish, not really intending to catch them, but still entertained by seeing how close he could get before they darted towards the rocks.

Hikitsu was perched on one of said rocks, idly skipping some of the many smooth stones that decorated this particular river bank.

“Emtato, you should come in, too!” Tomite beckoned.

“I’d rather not,” The elder warrior counted the number of times the stone had skipped. Five. He debated using his powers over the water to get a higher number. Tomite still held the record at twelve skips, and he was quite certain the younger boy had cheated by some means.

“Hikiiiitsu,” Tomite sloshed his way towards the boulder, arms raised above his head, and voice lowered, much in the same way he’d tell little Aila stories of undead monsters. “You waaant to come iiin the waaater,”

“And why would I?” Hikitsu eyed him carefully, just a little suspicious,

“Because…” Tomite came even closer, crouching down to bring his face level with Hikitsu’s. “You’re going to get wet anyway!” he yelled, throwing a mighty splash at the other man.

Tomite’s plan backfired. Literally. The water seemed to hit a wall as it went towards Hikitsu, then splashed right back at him, soaking him through. “HIKITSU!”

“I don’t want to get wet, Chamka,” Hikitsu bristled. “Don’t even try it,”

Tomite tried to find a dry patch on his shirt to dry his face. “Oh, but you never know,” Tomite grinned. “I might get you one day!”

“And then I would die, and it would be all your fault,”

“As if water could ever hurt you. Get in!”

“Never,”

“Why not?”

“I hate it,”

“You can’t run from it forever!” Tomite roared and lunged at Hikitsu, wet clothes and all, catching him about the chest in a great, wet, bear hug.

“Ugh, Tomite! Let go!”

“Never!” Tomite returned, throwing his weight to the side, and pulling Hikitsu off the rock and into the water with him.

Again, it didn’t work. Tomite landed on bone-dry earth, the water that he had hoped to cushion his fall had slid away, forming a wall of unmoving liquid just to his left. “Ouch,” Tomite protested, finding himself pinned between the river bed and a heavy torso.

“I told you I wasn’t going to go in the water,” Hikitsu smirked down at Tomite, who still had his arms flung around the older seishi’s neck.

“Forgive me, I tried my best. But I’ll get you there someday, whether you like it or not,” Tomite tried to sit up, but found Hikitsu to be unmoving.

“On the contrary, I’m quite happy where I am now,” Hikitsu let out a ghost of a laugh, and leaned down to close the distance between them. If he was going to let Tomite win at skipping stones, then he was damn well entitled to win at this game.

When they rejoined the others for supper, Hikitsu was not impressed by the comments made concerning his black eye. A second eye patch, indeed!

Also unimpressive was Tomite's determination to "never speak to him again" as he'd told the Priestess when she asked what on earth had happened.

Hikitsu ate his food in silence. He was running out of options, and Tomite was determined to throw a fit every time he looked at him sideways. Something needed to change, and Hikitsu rather hoped it was Tomite's attitude.

Bath?

Mon, 05 Mar 2007 00:42:09 GMT

word count: 74
characters: Tomite, Takiko

Tomite was fairly certain Takiko was the cleanest being in the world. Every other day, there she was, insisting that they bathe. It was healthy, she told them. Tomite couldn’t really complain, but was she trying to imply something?

“She must think we’re all dirty as a snakes belly,” said Inami.
“She’s trying to keep herself pure for the summoning of Genbu!” Hatsui beamed.
“She likes being naked-“ Tomite started before Hikitsu gave him a much deserved smack.

Laugh It Off

Sun, 04 Mar 2007 06:26:19 GMT

word count: 313
characters: tomite, rimudo, takiko

Rimudo had a poorly concealed air of radiant victory about him that morning. The sort of air that typically followed receiving a kiss from Lady Takiko. He strode towards the pot of porridge sitting over the fire, served himself a bowl, and seated himself on the ground in front of Tomite.

Tomite kept his eyes focused on his own lumpy oatmeal.

“Good morning, Tomite,” Rimudo nearly purred.

“Morning,” he returned casually, still careful not to make eye contact. Rimudo could be such a cocky ass sometimes. Tomite didn’t want to deal with it now.

“H-how did you sleep, Rimudo-san?” Hatsui piped up. “You seem very happy,”

Genbu damn that brainless child. Tomite bit down on the spoon in his mouth. He didn’t want to hear this conversation.

“I slept quite well,” Rimudo announced. “There is nothing quite like keeping the Lady Priestess safe in your own arms, is there, Tomite?”

The bastard was rubbing it in. Like salt in an open wound. Tomite hurt. He had been the first to protect Takiko. He had been the first to come forth as her guardian. He had been the first to love her. And yet to be so openly denied, and now to openly mocked by the one who had taken the space he had wanted to badly to occupy at Takiko’s side… it hurt.

“Oh, well I suppose you wouldn’t understand, would you Tomite?”

Tomite grinned around the nauseous feeling in his stomach. “There are many things I don’t understand about you, Rimudo. I hope it stays that way,”

“Trust me, it will,”

Tomite forced a laugh. It didn’t matter what it was. He would always smile for Takiko. He couldn’t be the one to hold her close, and keep her warm. But he’d damn well do everything in his power to protect her happiness. Even if it met letting Uruki be happy too.

Sleep

Sun, 04 Mar 2007 05:39:28 GMT

word count: 184
characters: tomite, hikitsu

Hikitsu, for all his barriers during the day, had lain his own sleeping skins out on the frosted grasses alongside Tomite’s own. And once again had wormed his way right up against Tomite’s back.

Tomite lay unmoving on his left side, Hikitsu’s warm breath tickling the hairs on the back of his neck, a vicious blush burning his cheeks, and a prayer that the other man would roll back over and away coursing through his mind.

It was too hot under the fur-lined blankets. Tomite had already stuck his bare feet out the from under the blankets into the biting night air, but had not dared move any further. The heavy arm slung over his waist kept him where he was.

When sleep finally claimed him, long after Hatsui had slipped into dreams of a comforting parents embrace, past when Takiko had found the courage to snuggle in close to Rimudo, and pillow her head on his shoulder, Tomite’s sleep was dreamless, for he was already in the arms of a dream he was scared to admit he enjoyed.

Bitter

Sun, 04 Mar 2007 05:02:08 GMT

word count: 370
characters: tomite, hikitsu.

Konan cities were very different from the villages and towns of Hokkan. Tomite wasn’t sure if it was just the heat he was unused to, but the entire place seemed radiant and lively, unlike the cool, somber moods that blanketed northern cities like Touran.

He and Hikitsu must have looked rather out of place, dressed in their traditional Hokkan robes, and strolling idly down the middle of a vendor-lined street. Everyone else was running or haggling with merchants or standing in groups talking loudly. Flocks of children jumped and frolicked between the feet of the shopping adults. Even the Konan cloth was different from the earthen tones typical of Hokkan, brightly woven with threads of red and gold and magenta bringing to life weavings of foreign flowers and elegant birds.

“It would be amazing, don’t you think? To meet the other warriors?” Tomite cast his eyes over a tapestry depicting the flaming red feathers of the Southern God. He could only imagine that they would be as exciting and exotic as the Phoenix they worshipped.

“I should hope they never be born,” Hikitsu replied. “It would mean only misfortune for those of their homeland.”

Tomite openly gaped at him. He was too frank, Tomite felt. Too cold. Too bitter. How was it that Hikitsu could curse his own celestial brethren so much? How could he not see the miracle of their very being?

“But I wonder,” Tomite turned from the elegant tapestries hung about the street vendor to return to Hikitsu’s side. “Which comes first: the Seishi, or the misfortune?”

Hikitsu paused mid-step, and turned to look at his younger companion with his good eye. “Obviously the warriors are born first. Otherwise there would be no war to stop Takiko, or bounty on the head of a royal prince, or-”

Tomite made a face, and cuffed the others arm lightly. “You’ve spent too long alone and brooding. I suppose I’m to blame for cursing your sister, and bringing monsters upon our tribes.”

“No, I was born before you. Those would be my fault as well,”

“Hikitsu!”

“Fire! There’s a fire in the red light district!”

Hikitsu allowed himself a brief smirk. “That’s probably our fault, too,”

“Oh shut up,” Tomite groaned.

Fragile

Sun, 04 Mar 2007 04:46:07 GMT

word count: 180
characters: tomite, hikitsu.

Some days it was alright. Everyone would go about their business, smiles and hope prevailing. Hikitsu would catch his eye, and offer just the slightest smile. Those were the days Tomite liked. They warmed his heart against the winter chill, made him feel a little more real in the world. Gave weight to his being. It would be easy to smile back, with that boyish trust and swelling sense of confidence.

Other days were harder. Takiko’s determination would falter, just a little, and Tomite would sense his entire world start to fail. What if they couldn’t do it? What if the army killed them? What if, what if, what if. Even the air would feel brittle from the tension. It felt like the symbol on his back, black hole that it was, was sucking the very hope out of his soul.

And then Hikitsu would catch his eye, and the older warrior’s cold expression would soften, just a little, and Tomite’s mind and soul and life would loose that frightening fragility.

Tomite liked those days even better.