Entry tags:
[fic] Secret Santa - oh dear lord, this is late (1/4?)
Title: Secret Santa - Treading the Path of the Gods (1/4?)
Parts: [1] - [2] - [3] - [4]
Pairing: KuroFai
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~14,800 for this part
Warnings: blood, violence, death, magic, mild sexual situations, hopefully lots of schmoop to come (WORKING ON THIS), crazy, made-up shinto-shamanism? Demons, spirits, ghosts? ...children? All the good stuff, anyway (save for the part where I'm working without spellcheck).
Summary: If there was a story for Fai to tell, and if he for once settled down to tell it seriously and without too many lies embellishing the parts where memory grows thin - what better story is there than that of finding a home?
a/n: Merry terribly belated Christmas to![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
farenmaddox , who wanted to read either KuroFai fluff or something to surprise her (or something amazing that I couldn't pull off). This fic is me *cough*failing like a baws at domestic fluff*cough* WRITING SOMETHING TO SURPRISE YOU. As such, I hope the thought counts a lot! I'm sorry I'm this late - but I still tell wish you the happiest also belated New Year that any person could have! You're wonderful, and I'm embarrassed I'm failing so bad at posting this up and including the cuddles, up to now! I swear betterment! :p /CUDDLES YOU TIGHT, INSTEAD
If one ever was to ask Fai Flowright what truly made him the man he was now, he would laugh and ask one how he could answer that question without getting lost in the intricate workings of time and space and getting heady with the colors and flickering lights of magic. It was a story that talking about would take the better part of a week, at the fires of the hearth of his home, spent with hot alcohol and spicy food. He would use hours speaking of his travels, constantly interrupted by the sour-looking ninja that wouldn't leave his side, of his journey to rescue a princess's memories and to help a boy find his parents, of his betrayal and thoughts of death, and of being taught to trust, and love, and live, instead. After that he would fall quiet for a moment, drawing a breath and a long sip of strong alcohol that was so strong that you could only guess he had probably distilled himself.
There were many things that Fai could have told you about the years he lived in Nihon. He could tell one of floods and storms so great they they ripped apart the castle of Shirasagi in their wake, of the grand war with Chuugoku that cost more lives than children were born within a decade. He could talk of the smell of magic at dawn and the sound of swords drawn at dusk. He could tell of what it meant to be loved truly and fiercely and of loving back desperately. Of what it meant to lose everything and to gain more than he had ever hoped for. He could tell stories of wonders and of Gods, and of living a life so long and rich that he watched the mountains change and the rivers find new beds.
And maybe, after his silence had ended, he might tell you this story of how he found a place to stay and of how his mind finally found peace, for the first time since he watched his King and father tear apart the last shreds of his childhood. There was a time when living meant peace, after he spent three years travelling, three years in Shirasagi castle by his lover's side, and three years of learning the arts of magic in Suwa. It seemed a short time compared to everything he had seen in his life, and a small price to pay for the fulfillment he gained.
Old blood under my feet, magic in my hands.
His naked soles were cold against the polished floorboards. The hum of prayer rising from the miko surrounded him in a corona of flame, pulsated over his skin and through his body, guiding his steps until he came to a stop before the stone altar. He raised his hands, prying his fingers open to offer leaves that were wet with sweat to the ever-burning flame. The fires licked at them and consumed the herbs in a roar of blue light that ghosted across the pale faces of the entranced women and the massive, oaken beams.
Suwa Taishi laid high up in the mountains and it was older than any other building that Fai had seen in his ten years in Nihon. Even Shirasagi castle had been rebuilt and reformed over years of fires and wars. The shrine of Suwa, however, was blackened and ancient like the stone it stood upon. There were carved statues of grimacing gods high up above their heads and the stone steps were trodden out by the feet of generations; the darkened wood had soaked up the smell of incense and human sweat and, long ago, the blood of sacrifice had darkened his path from the winged doors to the holy springs lit by fire light. All of it spoke of the passing of centuries, of the change of customs and the birth and death of whole nations that left the the shrine itself unchanged. From the raw stone wall towards the end of the building, the water of a spring welled up and spilled into a glittering pool around the wooden isle that held the circle of shaman miko, in the center of whom Fai stood. It continued its course around in a wide arc around the dais, catching shards of blue light and flinging them up and above, playing over the ceiling like laughter, before it fled through a carved riverbed out to the sides of the main chamber to feed lake Suwa, a few ri down from here.
As one, the women interrupted the hum of prayer to draw a breath and Fai felt his ponderings dissipate as the verses began anew, more insistent and louder. They spoke of birth and life, of passing of the seasons, of the people of Suwa and of war and death. The words pressed in on him and made his skin tingle and his chest grow tight and heavy. Smoke that rose from the burned leaves tickled his throat and left a bitter taste in his mouth. Fai fell to his knees before the shrine, joining them in the last phrases around a thick throat, until their voices died out, leaving the word to him.
"Takeminakata,
Who nutures the fields,
Who runs with the deer,
Whom the earth will obey
to heave under my soles,
"God of the hunt
and of lands and of woods,
Hear the most humble of your servants'
call."
He recited the simple verses in flowing, rhythmic Japanese, practiced a hundred times and his runes as the words spilled from his lips. Silently, he awaited the miko's answer. The God's name, over and over, and the beg for him to listen. Names were powerful things, in any form of magic that Fai would ever encounter. He drew a breath as theirs ran out.
"Yasakatome,
Who raises the winds,
Who knows the name of the waves,
Whose laughter rings
in every storm,
"Goddess of the winds,
of the rain and the lake,
Let me walk your lanes
that run among the skies."
The miko's answer, one last breath, and the last words fell from his lips in an urgent tumble.
"Goddess and God,
Marriage of lands and skies,
I surrender my mind
And lay my life in your hands.
"Raise me up."
The miko started in their prayer, again, louder than before, and Fai bowed deeply, his forehead almost touching the wooden floor. The steady singsong and the rush of his own words and magic made him light-headed and at the same time, he feared and anticipated the loss of control that the ritual brought along. Then, he sensed the doors within his head open and the lanes to the spirit world bloom to lay open within him. A breath escaped him in a half-relieved, half-awed shout, as he was swept up and away, in a rush of colors and whispering noise.
It wasn't that different from travelling with Mokona, not visually, Fai thought as he was pulled into the in-between of the human and the spirit world. Lights and signs passed him by that weren't meant for him and that he couldn't grasp. The true difference between the magic he knew and the magic of Nihon was the way of reaching out to draw from the main source of its power.
There were two sources of magic in almost any dimension he had visited on his travels, so far - the first rested within the humans themselves, a spark of life that everyone possessed but that seldomly was potent and powerful enough to truly find expression in the working of spells. In a true magician, this spark was strong enough to be the source of strong, explosive spells, such as spells used to attack. But mostly, it gave them the means to weave lanes and nets to draw from and channel the second source of power. The land itself harbored boundless pools of energy which would give life to all living things. Most of the grand spells would concentrate on trying to draw magic from this second source, controlling its energy through the powers that the mages themselves held at their disposal by the means of rune magic, of spells, the circles of witchcraft, and of alchemic workings.
The mage, in the end, was barely more than a catalyst that would funnel the raw powers of nature around and the earth beneath him and bend them to his will.
But coming to Nihon, Fai had immediately felt that things were different, here. The magic that pulsated within the ground was stronger and felt older than in most dimensions he had been to. Fai found it hard to explain what he was experiencing, especially as his Ceresian studies had shown him mainly how to understand magic from a scientific point of view - but whenever the powers of the world around touched his mind, Fai had the very distinct impression that it was a conscious being he was communicating with. The mere try to take control of it was futile, for it would simply retract and hover just out of his reach. More often than once Fai had had the impression that it was laughing at him, watching him try to forge it to his will. The magic of Nihon had learned that it could decide whom it let control its streams, and come to the conclusion that if it had the choice it didn't want to be the passive partner in the act, but rather control the puny, little magicians themselves.
Magic in Nihon asked for devotion, for giving up part of your freedom and for servitude. (Fai had once heard someone say that this was part of the reason that males were mostly absent in the magic workings of Nihon.)
The miko had learned to work with this conscious source of power - they said it was like falling, like offering up your body to lover while magic washed over you. Or so Fai had heard, for he was still trying to pass the stage of being weighed and measured and found worthy for your task. Even after all this time, he still was wary to succumb to the powers that were to control him. It had cost him years of relearning his own craft, of the frustrating task of reforming his beliefs, only to reach this point of contacting the gods.
In Nihon, distorted figures rose from woods and springs where the fabric of reality was thin, demons that would stare at children with bulging eyes and sharp teeth in the middle of the night. The pure amount of magical creatures that this world had brought forth had awed Fai in his first months of study of Nihon's magical ways. And the most powerful among them that passed over from the magical spirit world to roam among the humans - these were called the "Gods." They were the key to accessing the needed magic, for granting you access and leading you down their trodden pathes towards the source of life itself. They were the key to raising a magical shield over all of Shirano prefecture. They were what they needed to drive off the demons and protect the fields and homes of their people. They were what would bring Kurogane home to him.
He still had his own powers to draw from for spells that would need fast bursts of magic - he had a wide, sometimes endless seeming pool of magic at his disposal. But the slow burn of powerful, wide-spread magic, such as raising the permanent kekkai as big as they would need was utterly impossible to him. Unless he was ready to shorten his own lifespan dramatically by using up his own pools, that was.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself standing amidst snow swept hills, thick mist surrounding him in every direction. He shivered as the wind drove under his clothes, brushing his skin that was slick with sweat and the fevery heat of the fires. He barely felt the touch, certainly it wasn't uncomfortable, but his body seemed overly sensitive and numb at the same time, shivers of magical tension running over his arms and back. Turning in a circle, trying to find out where he was, flattening virgin snow under his unclothed soles. He felt a presence at the back of his neck and whipped his head around. His eyes came to rest on the shimmering ice of lake Suwa, framed by clouds that had ripped open to guide his way. The sun hung high above, merely a murky disk in the eastern sky. It was a bare second of clearness, before the mists closed again, and the vision was gone. There were only the white walls so moist that his hair curled and stuck to his head and the air was thick within his lungs.
Fai drew a breath and started walking, carefully toeing his way through the layers of snow and down the slope of the hill. He could barely see two meters ahead and the slope was far more slippery than he remembered it to be and riddled with roots and other small hindrances hidden beneath the snow. He felt pain spark up his leg as he stepped on sharp stones and broken twigs, but the trance had ensnared him far enough for him to not be hurting. There was a faint echo of voices, the snicker of a child. Once or twice, he thought he had seen a small scheme flitting by, spirits were playing among the fog. He squinted, trying to make out where they were walking, but he could never predict when one of them would come close enough to be seen, or when something would touch his calf in an attempt to divert his attention.
He stumbled and almost fell as the ground under his feet changed to grow hard and smooth. There was a noise, as though glass was cracking, and he froze in his tracks. He was already out on the ice. Fai moved back slowly, the blanket of glass under his feet crackling in protest at his weight. He looked about himself. Something loomed to the side, high and threatening, and Fai stepped closer, not having anything else to follow. As he entered the shadows, he realized that he was standing underneath a a giant willow tree. He looked up, but the stem vanished in the clouds above. Its branches flowed down around him to reach into the frozen waters, building a natural shelter, half water half ground. He raised a hand to touch the bark of the tree, steadying himself, looking around in a futile search for anything else to guide him on. Possibly for the one who had let the mists rip open to have him come this way. The world was still loud with whispers and now with the noises of tiny feet. Laughter was carried over to him, like the chiming of far-away bells. Mists and water, wind and clouds.
"Yasakatome?" he called out, and all noise around him died so suddenly that Fai couldn't help but shiver. His breath was loud amongst the eerie silence, and he stared out into the mist that weaved behind the branches of the willow, trying to make out anything within the brightness of the early morning.
"Yasakatome!" he shouted again, feeling small and lost among the endless mists. "Please, show yourself!"
He waited for almost a minute, but all stayed unmoved. Fai was about to call again, when wind touched his cheeks in a light caress. He gulped down the words that had hitched in his throat, and listened. There was a single pair of steps sounding over the snow. It was almost impossible to make out from where the sounds were coming; they seemed to be behind him and in front of him at the same time. The mage let his finger tips stroke along the rough bark of the willow as he stepped out of its shelter and onto the ice.
The fire of the shrine still burned within him, and the snow under his feet wasn't cold as he looked about himself, listening to the steps of the goddess. Suddenly, warm breath hit the back of his neck, and he stiffened, looking ahead with his heart pounding in his throat.
You come to be let in on the last of secrets, little human, a female voice whispered and the smell of a thunderstorm tickled Fai's nose. But your time hasn't come, yet. You won't surrender your everything to the wind and the mist. You won't walk out onto the lake, because you are too afraid to break through the ice.
"And how does this seem foolish to you?" Fai answered stiffly. There was high, cackling laughter ringing out from behind him. He still didn't dare to turn around, but he could see a flowing movement out of the corner of his eyes. It seemed to be hair, or maybe light cloth, moving as though held underwater.
This is my realm, and the lake listens to my words. None whom I don't despise will break through the ice. My astral lines won't carry those of little faith, "virgin maiden." She sounded obscene, speaking the last words. You have much to learn yet, lover boy. The rhythm of her steps turned into the fleeing pattern of a running deer. Fai turned on his heel, but the appearance was already gone.
Fai cursed under his breath, sinking to his knees as the tension fell away. His hands pressed into fists, and he pressed his eyes shut, apologizing in silence for the effort that the miko had made to guide him here. Much to learn, she had said - how much more? He had spent three years learning, three years watching the people of Suwa being threatened by powers that they could defy. He had sworn to protect this country that he had wanted desperately to become his home, ecause it was Kurogane's home. He sometimes wondered whether he would ever be good enough to protect Suwa the way they had hoped.
Not yet, he reminded himself, forcing his eyes open to stare into the mist. Not yet doesn't mean "never" He breathed and let the frustration flow out of his body, simply sitting there for a minute, kneeling in the snow. Somehow, its coldness had started to sting, and he was shivering, feeling chilled to the bone. He thought that it was time to return, settling in to concentrate and find the gate that would lead him back home. He felt the presence of the miko on the other side of the vision, a world away and so close that he heard their breath forming prayers a few feet to his side.
Within his concentration of feeling both worlds at once, he almost hadn't noticed that the whispers returned. Only when he felt the breath of a word stir his hair he looked up. The spirits stood around him in a cirlce, watching him carefully. They were indeed children, small and looking ragged, their skin of white and blue translucent cloth. Fai remembered hearing stories about the spirits of those that had drowned in the lake and weren't ready to pass on, yet. They shifted awkwardly, looking at each other, and shrinking away under his gaze.
"Don't cry," one of them said, in a frightened voice. Fai looked at the little girl, hurriedly touching a hand to his cheeks and relieved that they came away dry.
"I am not, you see?" he said. "Thank you for your worries. You have a beautiful playground, here."
"You're crying," the girl said stubbornly, sounding defiant. "Even without tears, you're crying. We can hear it. It upsets us."
Fai froze. Carefully, he shut down his emotions, clearing his throat. "I'm sorry, I forget you can sense these things."
"We... we're sometimes crying, too," the girl admitted, shyly. She seemed a bit soothed as Fai carefully controlled his own sadness. "It's why we feel when others do it."
"And it's not a bad thing to do," he smiled at her the way he would always smile at frightened children. "It just means you are sad. Everyone has reasons to be sad."
The girl cast her eyes down, nodding shyly. "But you still have a family," she said sullenly. "We can't go home, but you have someone to return to."
"I... I guess I do," Yuui said, feeling the ache as he thought of his brother, and the surge of warm need as he thought of Kurogane. The Gods knew he hoped Kurogane would be home, soon. "And it makes me less sad, I think."
The girl smiled shyly for the first time. She was missing one of her front teeth. She turned to whisper with a boy that stood by her side. They might have been brother and sister, they looked so similar. Both of them drowned on the same occasion, probably. There was a slow murmur as the spirits passed a message around. Fai felt that the call of the miko for him to return was growing stronger, and the spirit world around him grew thinner, even as he clung to it. The gods wanted him to go home, he didn't have much more time to talk to the lowly spirits that lived here, as well. There was a nod going through the children, as the mists were growing brighter, lit by the flames of the shrine. The worlds were mingling in Fai's mind, and he was sweating and getting a headache.
"We... decided to help you," she said finally, turning back to him. She was barely visible anymore, and her last words resounded in his head like echos of a fading dream. "We will send you something. Wait for it."
The vision broke apart, and he was whisked away by magic.
Like small, black islands, the farming houses laid strewn across the white landscape, far and lonely, amidst the harshness of winter. None of the light and warmth within escaped through the wooden shutters that were used to bar the shogi against the weather. And still, even before the hooves of the first of the horses touched the ground of the small yard of the farm, the front door was shoved aside to reveal a hunched, old man. Kurogane dismounted, and the half dozen men he had brought with him followed suit. Byakuya snorted and a shudder ran through his thick muscles under the white fur. He padded the horse's neck and murmured a soothing word, before handing the reins to one of the men. The fenced-in yard was small and probably used to raise pigs during the summer months. As it was, the mud had frozen over and snow crunched under the ninja's boots as he turned to face its owner.
Kurogane didn't wear the colors of Suwa, but a long, white cloak that made him melt into the snow from afar, and a light blue, woven armor. He didn't like the colors - they were impractical for travelling, and only Fai did ever manage to not stain them within a day. If all around them hadn't been covered in snow, he had surely found a way to take his black and red armor, instead, but the attack they were planning was not about intimidating their enemies - they simply didn't want to be seen too early.
Still, even without the banner of Suwa or a guard large enough to give him away, the farmer seemed to know who he was instantly and he bowed deeply to murmur the appropriate greetings. Kurogane realized that the man must have been old enough to know his father. He fast grew agitated at the endless well-wishes that protocol demanded. "Yeah, that is all well and good," he interrupted the man the moment he drew a breath to praise Amaterasu's "merciful hand." The farmer blinked, his eyes still fixed to his lord's toes. "Rise, I just need to ask a few question."
"I must apologize, my Lord, I have little in my humble home to make your stay pleasant," he replied, straightening. Only now that he could see his face, Kurogane realized that this man couldn't have been much older than forty years. The harsh life out in this valley had wizened his features and torn the strength out of his body beyond the years. His gray garb was stained and worn and the lines in his face dug in by worry, fear, and anger.
"I'm not going to take the little from you that you possess to feed your family," Kurogane grunted. "We're not staying. Just need to talk to you about what's happening beyond your rice fields."
The man waited in silence, his gaze fixed at some point of Kurogane's shoulder, as was appropriate. The door behind him glided ajar, revealing a row of dirty, small faces, framed by flickering light, whispering among themselves. Kurogane's gaze cut over to them. There was an anxious squeal and all but one of the children scattered to hide inside. The one that remained pulled the gap a bit closer, but it stayed and stared right back at him, its eyes huge and dark and fearless.
"Your house is close to those that have been devastated last week," he said, still looking at the child. "I need to know whether you have seen where the demons came from and where they have gone to, after the attack."
"My Lord," the man answered, his voice rasping with what could have been fear. "None of those who have seeked to fight the demons have ever returned to us."
"Neither has any demon lived that was stupid enough to face me," Kurogane replied calmly. "You must remember the years when my father led the village of Suwa - you know that they can be fought."
"That was a long time ago. I mostly remember the time that followed your father's decease," the farmer lowered his gaze. Suwa had been completely wiped out, that night, almost twenty years ago, but farms like these, a day's journey away from Suwa, had carried on with business as usual - planting rice, selling it in the closest city, living their lives from day to day, from attack to attack. There had been nowhere else for them to go, and so they stayed.
"Will you help me, or will you keep quiet and wait for them to swallow you whole and burn down your home?" The man stiffened visibly.
"I lost my oldest son to them, only half a year ago," his voice was embittered and desperate and for the first time, even though it was distinctly against social rules, he met Kurogane's eyes. His face was defiant and there was a low anger burning in his body, winding his muscles tight. Kurogane met the man's eyes steadily. Of course - the farm was big, too big for a single man to handle, the stables were too wide.
"It must have been... hard," he said. The man inclined his head.
"He was stupid and young, it was his own fault," he said harshly, his voice shaking. Kurogane nodded slowly. He seldomly saw a need to be such a thing as sensitive, when all he needed information if he wanted to help these people survive. Surviving would help them more than pretty words. However, in this very moment, in which Fai wasn't here to be diplomatic on his behalf, he felt the that he wished he knew what to tell this man. (He wondered whether he was getting soft.)
"I will do what I can to stop these slaughters but I need your help for that," he insisted. "The farms in this valley have had the highest frequency of attacks, over the last years - we can guess that their nests are somewhere close by." The man was quiet for a long moment, emotion passing over his down-cast features. Some of them were anger and hurt, Kurogane knew.
"I cannot tell you for sure," he answered woodenly, stepping out from the shelter of the house's entrance. His eyes wanderd over the hills and plains of the valley that lay beyond the woven fence of his yard, finally pointing at the forest that spread to the east. "I have seen them retreat to Mount Kamunabi and Oomizan, but this will be of little help to you. They come from all sides when they attack, and there are as many places they could hide in as there are caverns up on the hills. They aren't stupid - they know we could come after them if we knew where they nest."
"Right," Kurogane murmured, mentally going over his options. "Do you know anyone on the neighboring farms to lead us up these mountains?"
"No one approaches the line of trees anymore, my Lord. I must apologize, but I am of little help to you in your endeavors," the man replied, casting a glance over at Kurogane."I can only tell you of them what I am sure you have already heard - the ground shakes when they approach, and you can barely see them by night. Some of them grow to be as tall as a house and spit flammable fluid, others are small as dogs, and climb the roofs of burning houses easily. They feed on cattle and on humans, but they never hunt down all of us," the man wound his arms tight around his chest as though it had suddenly grown colder. "They know how to preserve their food sources."
Kurogane felt the skin in his neck prickle with unease. "It's fine," he grunted. "I'll send someone back to Suwa to get an army over here, to protect you until we've found the nest. We'll try the other farms, for now."
"May your path be blessed with good fortune," The man said and it sounded heartfelt. Kurogane inclined his head. He stepped back towards his men, having them slide back into their saddles with a gesture and a word, intent on continuing their way through the drifts of snow.
They were barely outside the farm, when something small caught Kurogane's eye. A child had stepped out of the shadow of the fence. It looked like five, at six most years old. Its hair was bright red and stood around its head like a crown. With its kimono gathered around its knees so that it wouldn't stumble, and the large eyes amidst the childish face, it was hard to tell whether he was looking at a boy or a girl. It was running barefeet, and Kurogane was almost sure that it wasn't supposed to be out in the snow. However, it stepped closer as Kurogane passed it by. It was staring up at him, seeming anxious.
"I know where they live," it said abruptly, and though it wasn't speaking loud, the words reached Kurogane clear as a bell. He pulled Byakuya to a halt and turned briefly around to look back at the farming house, but saw no one outside in search for the child, yet.
"My Lord?" one of the retainers called out questioningly. Some of the men had stopped amidst the snowy rice fields to wait for him, looking over their shoulders.
"Ride ahead, I will be right behind," Kurogane shouted. He waited until they had exchanged a brief look, nodded and continued to ride on. He turned back to the girl. Byakuya was prancing nervously, throwing his head back with a snort. The small human moved back half a step, watching the hooves nervously. "What did you mean by that? How would you know where they live?"
"They travel by night, when most people won't notice them," the child said. "But they send bad dreams - their howls do. They keep waking me. I can hear them, and I know of their paths."
Kurogane stared at the child for a long moment. He couldn't deny that children often saw and heard things that adults wouldn't notice. "Have you seen where they come from, then?" he asked.
The child pointed straight to the west. It didn't seem to feel the cold that was seeping into its feet and hands. "They always come from Mount Kammabi," it said, fusing the syllabels of the name in childish tumble. "They travel to each of the other mountains that surround the valley, to Reihou and Oomizan and the ones beyond, but they will always return to Kammabi." It stopped there, seeming a bit unsure of whether to continue.
"What?" Kurogane asked.
"You have to promise to not tell my father," the child said anxiously, hands clutched in front of its belly nervously. Kurogane cast another glance over at the farming house, but still couldn't see anyone outside. He finally swung his foot off the horse's back and dropped down into the snow. He kneeled in front of the child and looked it straight in the eye. A flower that Kurogane didn't know was tucked behind its ear, and Kurogane wondered where it would come from, during this season. Just as the child's naked feet and its light kimono it seemed dislocated amidst the snow. Probably a girl, Kurogane decided now that he looked at the child this close, too small and too thin for her age, and dirty, either way.
"I promise," he said earnestly. The child favored him with a small smile and then, after casting a furtive glance to the side as though someone might listen in, leaned in a bit, as though to whisper into his ear.
"I sometimes follow them," she said quietly. "The adults say the ground vibrates under their feet when the demons are close, but its truly them calling to each other - it's so low that most people can't hear them, but I do. The animals do, as well. If you look very close, you can see the moonlight shining off their fur, but the rest of them you can barely see, as though they were ghosts.
"I've watched them for nights. I can show you which path to take," she said slowly. "They move very carefully when they fear that someone might see them, but further up, the marks they leave in the snow grow less careful and you can easily follow their path. I know because I did. But my father can't know, he would be very angry."
"You shouldn't go up there," he said lowly. "It's dangerous and that is why your parents tell you not to." She lowered her gaze, fiddling with her hands.
"I know," she whispered.
"Why do you go, then," he probed.
"Because they are going to kill us, anyway," the child said, and she sounded surprisingly serene, like a fact that she had come to terms with. Kurogane felt a shiver run down his spine. "My mother keeps saying that, and my father won't say otherwise. I think they're right."
Kurogane wondered whether this child wasn't much older than she looked. "Listen," he said. She looked up at him out of big, dry eyes. "I am going to find and kill these demons. Whatever it costs."
"You shouldn't go," she said a bit too fast. She seemed anxious. "It's dangerous. They... they killed my brother," she said hollowly and Kurogane gritted his teeth.
"They won't kill you," he said, in the end. The girl opened her mouth as though to protest, but then closed it, simply looking at him with an eerie silence. "Go home, now. Your mother will miss you, if you don't."
She smiled a wavering smile at him, before she turned and took a few tentative steps in the direction of the farm. Kurogane mounted his horse, pressed his feet to the beast's side, and took off towards his men. They were watching him when he came back, and all they needed were his firm nod and a word. They were hard-pressed if they wanted to climb the mountain and be back before sunlight ran out.
Reality found Fai on his knees in the darkness, sucking in breaths of air thick with incense. His tongue lay in his mouth like a fuzzy animal that had crept there to die, and a slow, pounding headache had spread in his temples. His legs had fallen asleep and he unfolded them from under himself with a slow grunt of pain as the circulation resumed.
"You were gone for longer than usual," a quiet, female voice told him. "The ninth hour has come and passed." Fai closed his eyes for a moment to calm himself, shifting to sit cross-legged and straightening his back. Only then, when his features had settled and his posture composed, he turned to look at the other miko. Arashi held a cup with tea out to him, her features calm and unmoved. Fai sometimes felt that this incarnation of Arashi was as indestructible as Suwa Taishi itself. But now, after hours of meditation to watch over his steps in the other world, even her face looked drained of color and her forehead was glistening with a thin layer of sweat.
He swallowed the sour taste in his mouth and his voice scraped unbecomingly across the single word of "thanks," as he accepted the cup. His eyes shifted to take in the rest of the room behind him briefly; the remaining three miko were huddled together at the side of the room, facing in their direction. As he met their eyes, they averting them quickly. Their whispered conversation came to a stop, and the girl that had talked tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes downcast in embarrassment. Dissappointment. Possibly gossip. Either way, their patience was running out. Fai only hoped that he would succeed before it turned into resentment towards the strange foreigner that claimed to be a magician but knew so little about the ways of Nihon's magic.
A slow shiver ran down his spine when he was once again reminded that this had been the seventh attempt to help him reach the gods, and the seventh time they had failed. And it won't be the last one, a vicious little voice whispered at the back of his head. His muscles that were tired from going unused twitched and he almost let the cup fall. He hurriedly swallowed some of the tea, letting the bitter note settle him.
"I am sorry," he said into the silence, his head bowed. Arashi watched him for a moment, then she turned towards the girls.
"Leave us," she ordered the assembled miko that were still quiet and subdued. "You may rest in the entrance hall, and otherwise are free to return home. I await you at dusk of tomorrow morning."
The miko stood to offer their goodbyes and thanks and filed out of the room swiftly with one last glance at the pair that was engulfed by the light of the fires. Finally, they were alone with the flames and the ever-present gurgling of water. Fai looked at her, but her gaze was still concentrated on the doors, her face blank as to not betray any emotion.
"The kekkai will last for another day," Arashi said, still not looking at him. "I will raise a barrier by morrow that will protect the village and the path towards the fields and the shrine. You should try again, after the solstice, when the magic is still strong in the air and the gods are sated."
"I'm not sure it's worth it, Arashi-san," Fai burst out. She turned to look him in the eye, and a hint of worry shone in her face. She didn't seem surprised, though. Fai sighed and rubbed a hand over his heavy lids. "I don't know whether your gods will ever accept a foreigner to use the lanes - I sometimes wonder whether there isn't too much knowledge of different magic stuck in my head to make it possible for me to truly understand your ways."
"You have a lot to learn, but you also have enough magic to rival that of the Tsukuyomi," Arashi reminded him quietly. "Your doubt won't help you to find them and beg their help, Fai-san. It's the way of a child to give up this early."
"I'm wondering whether it isn't more childish to continue and tire you and the women of the shrine," Fai murmured. He turned the cup in his fingers, brushing across the beautiful black enamel. "It's a gift to realize when to stop something, too."
"Most miko don't meet the gods at the first try, some won't ever," Arashi shook her head; she sounded stern, and a bit exasperated. "But I have trained more novices of Shintoism than just you - all the abilities and talents you need to master the channels rest within you. But the step on being taken worthy is something that I can't teach you. This is a test you have to solve, by yourself."
"I simply don't know what to learn to get past this stage, Arashi-san - I don't know where to look for what I'm missing. I'm not one of your students, I'm not even Japanese. There are things I will never fully grasp about your culture and ways," Fai broke off as he realized how petulant and bitter he sounded. He let out a small, unamused laugh at himself. "I'm really being childish. I'm sorry to speak like this, I simply get frustrated with how slow I'm progressing."
"I tell you, Fai Flowright," Arashi said after a short pause, drawing his attention by the shimmer in her dark eyes and the use of his name. "Suwa needs you. If you do not trust my words when, then ask your husband."
"I'm sure 'my husband' finds colorful words when it comes to my usefulness," he said with a crooked smile.
"You know that is not true," Arashi said with a soft smile, taking the cup from him. "Go home for now. Do your exercise and rest. Don't dwell on the darkness - it has swallowed better men and women, before."
Fai thanked her, and left the shrine on stiff legs. The entrance hall was already empty when he passed by, and he took a moment to stretch with a drawn-out groan. He let himself fall over and touch his flat hands to the ground, feeling muscles in his back pop and loosen. He slowly came back up, relief flooding his tired body as he stretched over backwards, arms akimbo. He looked at the shrine upside down, blood flowing down into his face. His eyes glided over to the carved statue of Takeminakata almost on their own.
Fai straightened himself, taking the statue in more carefully, the way he had when he had first set foot into the shrine. The depiction of the God of hunting was gruesome, showing him in the fight that had made him lose both arms. The appendages were lying at his feet among a slaughtered heap enemy. His torso twisted in pain and his mouth opened in a scream of rage and sorrow. He would run from the fight, after this fight had happened, and he would find his new home at Suwa, sheltered by the woods and loved by the beautiful Yasakatome despite the shortcomings of his body.
Fai shivered despite himself. He turned his back on the blackened wood, thirsting for the cold, fresh air outside.
hakama - kimono "pants," worn over an actual kimono
haori - padded kimono jacket
ri - ancient Japanese measure of length, approximately half a mile long
shogi - paper-spanned gliding doors that seperate rooms in traditional Japanese houses
Suwa Taishi - "taishi" is name affix used for shrines
zouri - straw sandals similar to flip flops, worn with tabi, two-toed socks
ancient Japanese account of time - is confusing. The hours are not only counted backwards, they also exclude 1, 2, and 3 and vary in length depending on the season.
Parts: [1] - [2] - [3] - [4]
Pairing: KuroFai
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~14,800 for this part
Warnings: blood, violence, death, magic, mild sexual situations, hopefully lots of schmoop to come (WORKING ON THIS), crazy, made-up shinto-shamanism? Demons, spirits, ghosts? ...children? All the good stuff, anyway (save for the part where I'm working without spellcheck).
Summary: If there was a story for Fai to tell, and if he for once settled down to tell it seriously and without too many lies embellishing the parts where memory grows thin - what better story is there than that of finding a home?
a/n: Merry terribly belated Christmas to
farenmaddox , who wanted to read either KuroFai fluff or something to surprise her (or something amazing that I couldn't pull off). This fic is me *cough*If one ever was to ask Fai Flowright what truly made him the man he was now, he would laugh and ask one how he could answer that question without getting lost in the intricate workings of time and space and getting heady with the colors and flickering lights of magic. It was a story that talking about would take the better part of a week, at the fires of the hearth of his home, spent with hot alcohol and spicy food. He would use hours speaking of his travels, constantly interrupted by the sour-looking ninja that wouldn't leave his side, of his journey to rescue a princess's memories and to help a boy find his parents, of his betrayal and thoughts of death, and of being taught to trust, and love, and live, instead. After that he would fall quiet for a moment, drawing a breath and a long sip of strong alcohol that was so strong that you could only guess he had probably distilled himself.
There were many things that Fai could have told you about the years he lived in Nihon. He could tell one of floods and storms so great they they ripped apart the castle of Shirasagi in their wake, of the grand war with Chuugoku that cost more lives than children were born within a decade. He could talk of the smell of magic at dawn and the sound of swords drawn at dusk. He could tell of what it meant to be loved truly and fiercely and of loving back desperately. Of what it meant to lose everything and to gain more than he had ever hoped for. He could tell stories of wonders and of Gods, and of living a life so long and rich that he watched the mountains change and the rivers find new beds.
And maybe, after his silence had ended, he might tell you this story of how he found a place to stay and of how his mind finally found peace, for the first time since he watched his King and father tear apart the last shreds of his childhood. There was a time when living meant peace, after he spent three years travelling, three years in Shirasagi castle by his lover's side, and three years of learning the arts of magic in Suwa. It seemed a short time compared to everything he had seen in his life, and a small price to pay for the fulfillment he gained.
Old blood under my feet, magic in my hands.
His naked soles were cold against the polished floorboards. The hum of prayer rising from the miko surrounded him in a corona of flame, pulsated over his skin and through his body, guiding his steps until he came to a stop before the stone altar. He raised his hands, prying his fingers open to offer leaves that were wet with sweat to the ever-burning flame. The fires licked at them and consumed the herbs in a roar of blue light that ghosted across the pale faces of the entranced women and the massive, oaken beams.
Suwa Taishi laid high up in the mountains and it was older than any other building that Fai had seen in his ten years in Nihon. Even Shirasagi castle had been rebuilt and reformed over years of fires and wars. The shrine of Suwa, however, was blackened and ancient like the stone it stood upon. There were carved statues of grimacing gods high up above their heads and the stone steps were trodden out by the feet of generations; the darkened wood had soaked up the smell of incense and human sweat and, long ago, the blood of sacrifice had darkened his path from the winged doors to the holy springs lit by fire light. All of it spoke of the passing of centuries, of the change of customs and the birth and death of whole nations that left the the shrine itself unchanged. From the raw stone wall towards the end of the building, the water of a spring welled up and spilled into a glittering pool around the wooden isle that held the circle of shaman miko, in the center of whom Fai stood. It continued its course around in a wide arc around the dais, catching shards of blue light and flinging them up and above, playing over the ceiling like laughter, before it fled through a carved riverbed out to the sides of the main chamber to feed lake Suwa, a few ri down from here.
As one, the women interrupted the hum of prayer to draw a breath and Fai felt his ponderings dissipate as the verses began anew, more insistent and louder. They spoke of birth and life, of passing of the seasons, of the people of Suwa and of war and death. The words pressed in on him and made his skin tingle and his chest grow tight and heavy. Smoke that rose from the burned leaves tickled his throat and left a bitter taste in his mouth. Fai fell to his knees before the shrine, joining them in the last phrases around a thick throat, until their voices died out, leaving the word to him.
"Takeminakata,
Who nutures the fields,
Who runs with the deer,
Whom the earth will obey
to heave under my soles,
"God of the hunt
and of lands and of woods,
Hear the most humble of your servants'
call."
He recited the simple verses in flowing, rhythmic Japanese, practiced a hundred times and his runes as the words spilled from his lips. Silently, he awaited the miko's answer. The God's name, over and over, and the beg for him to listen. Names were powerful things, in any form of magic that Fai would ever encounter. He drew a breath as theirs ran out.
"Yasakatome,
Who raises the winds,
Who knows the name of the waves,
Whose laughter rings
in every storm,
"Goddess of the winds,
of the rain and the lake,
Let me walk your lanes
that run among the skies."
The miko's answer, one last breath, and the last words fell from his lips in an urgent tumble.
"Goddess and God,
Marriage of lands and skies,
I surrender my mind
And lay my life in your hands.
"Raise me up."
The miko started in their prayer, again, louder than before, and Fai bowed deeply, his forehead almost touching the wooden floor. The steady singsong and the rush of his own words and magic made him light-headed and at the same time, he feared and anticipated the loss of control that the ritual brought along. Then, he sensed the doors within his head open and the lanes to the spirit world bloom to lay open within him. A breath escaped him in a half-relieved, half-awed shout, as he was swept up and away, in a rush of colors and whispering noise.
It wasn't that different from travelling with Mokona, not visually, Fai thought as he was pulled into the in-between of the human and the spirit world. Lights and signs passed him by that weren't meant for him and that he couldn't grasp. The true difference between the magic he knew and the magic of Nihon was the way of reaching out to draw from the main source of its power.
There were two sources of magic in almost any dimension he had visited on his travels, so far - the first rested within the humans themselves, a spark of life that everyone possessed but that seldomly was potent and powerful enough to truly find expression in the working of spells. In a true magician, this spark was strong enough to be the source of strong, explosive spells, such as spells used to attack. But mostly, it gave them the means to weave lanes and nets to draw from and channel the second source of power. The land itself harbored boundless pools of energy which would give life to all living things. Most of the grand spells would concentrate on trying to draw magic from this second source, controlling its energy through the powers that the mages themselves held at their disposal by the means of rune magic, of spells, the circles of witchcraft, and of alchemic workings.
The mage, in the end, was barely more than a catalyst that would funnel the raw powers of nature around and the earth beneath him and bend them to his will.
But coming to Nihon, Fai had immediately felt that things were different, here. The magic that pulsated within the ground was stronger and felt older than in most dimensions he had been to. Fai found it hard to explain what he was experiencing, especially as his Ceresian studies had shown him mainly how to understand magic from a scientific point of view - but whenever the powers of the world around touched his mind, Fai had the very distinct impression that it was a conscious being he was communicating with. The mere try to take control of it was futile, for it would simply retract and hover just out of his reach. More often than once Fai had had the impression that it was laughing at him, watching him try to forge it to his will. The magic of Nihon had learned that it could decide whom it let control its streams, and come to the conclusion that if it had the choice it didn't want to be the passive partner in the act, but rather control the puny, little magicians themselves.
Magic in Nihon asked for devotion, for giving up part of your freedom and for servitude. (Fai had once heard someone say that this was part of the reason that males were mostly absent in the magic workings of Nihon.)
The miko had learned to work with this conscious source of power - they said it was like falling, like offering up your body to lover while magic washed over you. Or so Fai had heard, for he was still trying to pass the stage of being weighed and measured and found worthy for your task. Even after all this time, he still was wary to succumb to the powers that were to control him. It had cost him years of relearning his own craft, of the frustrating task of reforming his beliefs, only to reach this point of contacting the gods.
In Nihon, distorted figures rose from woods and springs where the fabric of reality was thin, demons that would stare at children with bulging eyes and sharp teeth in the middle of the night. The pure amount of magical creatures that this world had brought forth had awed Fai in his first months of study of Nihon's magical ways. And the most powerful among them that passed over from the magical spirit world to roam among the humans - these were called the "Gods." They were the key to accessing the needed magic, for granting you access and leading you down their trodden pathes towards the source of life itself. They were the key to raising a magical shield over all of Shirano prefecture. They were what they needed to drive off the demons and protect the fields and homes of their people. They were what would bring Kurogane home to him.
He still had his own powers to draw from for spells that would need fast bursts of magic - he had a wide, sometimes endless seeming pool of magic at his disposal. But the slow burn of powerful, wide-spread magic, such as raising the permanent kekkai as big as they would need was utterly impossible to him. Unless he was ready to shorten his own lifespan dramatically by using up his own pools, that was.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself standing amidst snow swept hills, thick mist surrounding him in every direction. He shivered as the wind drove under his clothes, brushing his skin that was slick with sweat and the fevery heat of the fires. He barely felt the touch, certainly it wasn't uncomfortable, but his body seemed overly sensitive and numb at the same time, shivers of magical tension running over his arms and back. Turning in a circle, trying to find out where he was, flattening virgin snow under his unclothed soles. He felt a presence at the back of his neck and whipped his head around. His eyes came to rest on the shimmering ice of lake Suwa, framed by clouds that had ripped open to guide his way. The sun hung high above, merely a murky disk in the eastern sky. It was a bare second of clearness, before the mists closed again, and the vision was gone. There were only the white walls so moist that his hair curled and stuck to his head and the air was thick within his lungs.
Fai drew a breath and started walking, carefully toeing his way through the layers of snow and down the slope of the hill. He could barely see two meters ahead and the slope was far more slippery than he remembered it to be and riddled with roots and other small hindrances hidden beneath the snow. He felt pain spark up his leg as he stepped on sharp stones and broken twigs, but the trance had ensnared him far enough for him to not be hurting. There was a faint echo of voices, the snicker of a child. Once or twice, he thought he had seen a small scheme flitting by, spirits were playing among the fog. He squinted, trying to make out where they were walking, but he could never predict when one of them would come close enough to be seen, or when something would touch his calf in an attempt to divert his attention.
He stumbled and almost fell as the ground under his feet changed to grow hard and smooth. There was a noise, as though glass was cracking, and he froze in his tracks. He was already out on the ice. Fai moved back slowly, the blanket of glass under his feet crackling in protest at his weight. He looked about himself. Something loomed to the side, high and threatening, and Fai stepped closer, not having anything else to follow. As he entered the shadows, he realized that he was standing underneath a a giant willow tree. He looked up, but the stem vanished in the clouds above. Its branches flowed down around him to reach into the frozen waters, building a natural shelter, half water half ground. He raised a hand to touch the bark of the tree, steadying himself, looking around in a futile search for anything else to guide him on. Possibly for the one who had let the mists rip open to have him come this way. The world was still loud with whispers and now with the noises of tiny feet. Laughter was carried over to him, like the chiming of far-away bells. Mists and water, wind and clouds.
"Yasakatome?" he called out, and all noise around him died so suddenly that Fai couldn't help but shiver. His breath was loud amongst the eerie silence, and he stared out into the mist that weaved behind the branches of the willow, trying to make out anything within the brightness of the early morning.
"Yasakatome!" he shouted again, feeling small and lost among the endless mists. "Please, show yourself!"
He waited for almost a minute, but all stayed unmoved. Fai was about to call again, when wind touched his cheeks in a light caress. He gulped down the words that had hitched in his throat, and listened. There was a single pair of steps sounding over the snow. It was almost impossible to make out from where the sounds were coming; they seemed to be behind him and in front of him at the same time. The mage let his finger tips stroke along the rough bark of the willow as he stepped out of its shelter and onto the ice.
The fire of the shrine still burned within him, and the snow under his feet wasn't cold as he looked about himself, listening to the steps of the goddess. Suddenly, warm breath hit the back of his neck, and he stiffened, looking ahead with his heart pounding in his throat.
You come to be let in on the last of secrets, little human, a female voice whispered and the smell of a thunderstorm tickled Fai's nose. But your time hasn't come, yet. You won't surrender your everything to the wind and the mist. You won't walk out onto the lake, because you are too afraid to break through the ice.
"And how does this seem foolish to you?" Fai answered stiffly. There was high, cackling laughter ringing out from behind him. He still didn't dare to turn around, but he could see a flowing movement out of the corner of his eyes. It seemed to be hair, or maybe light cloth, moving as though held underwater.
This is my realm, and the lake listens to my words. None whom I don't despise will break through the ice. My astral lines won't carry those of little faith, "virgin maiden." She sounded obscene, speaking the last words. You have much to learn yet, lover boy. The rhythm of her steps turned into the fleeing pattern of a running deer. Fai turned on his heel, but the appearance was already gone.
Fai cursed under his breath, sinking to his knees as the tension fell away. His hands pressed into fists, and he pressed his eyes shut, apologizing in silence for the effort that the miko had made to guide him here. Much to learn, she had said - how much more? He had spent three years learning, three years watching the people of Suwa being threatened by powers that they could defy. He had sworn to protect this country that he had wanted desperately to become his home, ecause it was Kurogane's home. He sometimes wondered whether he would ever be good enough to protect Suwa the way they had hoped.
Not yet, he reminded himself, forcing his eyes open to stare into the mist. Not yet doesn't mean "never" He breathed and let the frustration flow out of his body, simply sitting there for a minute, kneeling in the snow. Somehow, its coldness had started to sting, and he was shivering, feeling chilled to the bone. He thought that it was time to return, settling in to concentrate and find the gate that would lead him back home. He felt the presence of the miko on the other side of the vision, a world away and so close that he heard their breath forming prayers a few feet to his side.
Within his concentration of feeling both worlds at once, he almost hadn't noticed that the whispers returned. Only when he felt the breath of a word stir his hair he looked up. The spirits stood around him in a cirlce, watching him carefully. They were indeed children, small and looking ragged, their skin of white and blue translucent cloth. Fai remembered hearing stories about the spirits of those that had drowned in the lake and weren't ready to pass on, yet. They shifted awkwardly, looking at each other, and shrinking away under his gaze.
"Don't cry," one of them said, in a frightened voice. Fai looked at the little girl, hurriedly touching a hand to his cheeks and relieved that they came away dry.
"I am not, you see?" he said. "Thank you for your worries. You have a beautiful playground, here."
"You're crying," the girl said stubbornly, sounding defiant. "Even without tears, you're crying. We can hear it. It upsets us."
Fai froze. Carefully, he shut down his emotions, clearing his throat. "I'm sorry, I forget you can sense these things."
"We... we're sometimes crying, too," the girl admitted, shyly. She seemed a bit soothed as Fai carefully controlled his own sadness. "It's why we feel when others do it."
"And it's not a bad thing to do," he smiled at her the way he would always smile at frightened children. "It just means you are sad. Everyone has reasons to be sad."
The girl cast her eyes down, nodding shyly. "But you still have a family," she said sullenly. "We can't go home, but you have someone to return to."
"I... I guess I do," Yuui said, feeling the ache as he thought of his brother, and the surge of warm need as he thought of Kurogane. The Gods knew he hoped Kurogane would be home, soon. "And it makes me less sad, I think."
The girl smiled shyly for the first time. She was missing one of her front teeth. She turned to whisper with a boy that stood by her side. They might have been brother and sister, they looked so similar. Both of them drowned on the same occasion, probably. There was a slow murmur as the spirits passed a message around. Fai felt that the call of the miko for him to return was growing stronger, and the spirit world around him grew thinner, even as he clung to it. The gods wanted him to go home, he didn't have much more time to talk to the lowly spirits that lived here, as well. There was a nod going through the children, as the mists were growing brighter, lit by the flames of the shrine. The worlds were mingling in Fai's mind, and he was sweating and getting a headache.
"We... decided to help you," she said finally, turning back to him. She was barely visible anymore, and her last words resounded in his head like echos of a fading dream. "We will send you something. Wait for it."
The vision broke apart, and he was whisked away by magic.
Like small, black islands, the farming houses laid strewn across the white landscape, far and lonely, amidst the harshness of winter. None of the light and warmth within escaped through the wooden shutters that were used to bar the shogi against the weather. And still, even before the hooves of the first of the horses touched the ground of the small yard of the farm, the front door was shoved aside to reveal a hunched, old man. Kurogane dismounted, and the half dozen men he had brought with him followed suit. Byakuya snorted and a shudder ran through his thick muscles under the white fur. He padded the horse's neck and murmured a soothing word, before handing the reins to one of the men. The fenced-in yard was small and probably used to raise pigs during the summer months. As it was, the mud had frozen over and snow crunched under the ninja's boots as he turned to face its owner.
Kurogane didn't wear the colors of Suwa, but a long, white cloak that made him melt into the snow from afar, and a light blue, woven armor. He didn't like the colors - they were impractical for travelling, and only Fai did ever manage to not stain them within a day. If all around them hadn't been covered in snow, he had surely found a way to take his black and red armor, instead, but the attack they were planning was not about intimidating their enemies - they simply didn't want to be seen too early.
Still, even without the banner of Suwa or a guard large enough to give him away, the farmer seemed to know who he was instantly and he bowed deeply to murmur the appropriate greetings. Kurogane realized that the man must have been old enough to know his father. He fast grew agitated at the endless well-wishes that protocol demanded. "Yeah, that is all well and good," he interrupted the man the moment he drew a breath to praise Amaterasu's "merciful hand." The farmer blinked, his eyes still fixed to his lord's toes. "Rise, I just need to ask a few question."
"I must apologize, my Lord, I have little in my humble home to make your stay pleasant," he replied, straightening. Only now that he could see his face, Kurogane realized that this man couldn't have been much older than forty years. The harsh life out in this valley had wizened his features and torn the strength out of his body beyond the years. His gray garb was stained and worn and the lines in his face dug in by worry, fear, and anger.
"I'm not going to take the little from you that you possess to feed your family," Kurogane grunted. "We're not staying. Just need to talk to you about what's happening beyond your rice fields."
The man waited in silence, his gaze fixed at some point of Kurogane's shoulder, as was appropriate. The door behind him glided ajar, revealing a row of dirty, small faces, framed by flickering light, whispering among themselves. Kurogane's gaze cut over to them. There was an anxious squeal and all but one of the children scattered to hide inside. The one that remained pulled the gap a bit closer, but it stayed and stared right back at him, its eyes huge and dark and fearless.
"Your house is close to those that have been devastated last week," he said, still looking at the child. "I need to know whether you have seen where the demons came from and where they have gone to, after the attack."
"My Lord," the man answered, his voice rasping with what could have been fear. "None of those who have seeked to fight the demons have ever returned to us."
"Neither has any demon lived that was stupid enough to face me," Kurogane replied calmly. "You must remember the years when my father led the village of Suwa - you know that they can be fought."
"That was a long time ago. I mostly remember the time that followed your father's decease," the farmer lowered his gaze. Suwa had been completely wiped out, that night, almost twenty years ago, but farms like these, a day's journey away from Suwa, had carried on with business as usual - planting rice, selling it in the closest city, living their lives from day to day, from attack to attack. There had been nowhere else for them to go, and so they stayed.
"Will you help me, or will you keep quiet and wait for them to swallow you whole and burn down your home?" The man stiffened visibly.
"I lost my oldest son to them, only half a year ago," his voice was embittered and desperate and for the first time, even though it was distinctly against social rules, he met Kurogane's eyes. His face was defiant and there was a low anger burning in his body, winding his muscles tight. Kurogane met the man's eyes steadily. Of course - the farm was big, too big for a single man to handle, the stables were too wide.
"It must have been... hard," he said. The man inclined his head.
"He was stupid and young, it was his own fault," he said harshly, his voice shaking. Kurogane nodded slowly. He seldomly saw a need to be such a thing as sensitive, when all he needed information if he wanted to help these people survive. Surviving would help them more than pretty words. However, in this very moment, in which Fai wasn't here to be diplomatic on his behalf, he felt the that he wished he knew what to tell this man. (He wondered whether he was getting soft.)
"I will do what I can to stop these slaughters but I need your help for that," he insisted. "The farms in this valley have had the highest frequency of attacks, over the last years - we can guess that their nests are somewhere close by." The man was quiet for a long moment, emotion passing over his down-cast features. Some of them were anger and hurt, Kurogane knew.
"I cannot tell you for sure," he answered woodenly, stepping out from the shelter of the house's entrance. His eyes wanderd over the hills and plains of the valley that lay beyond the woven fence of his yard, finally pointing at the forest that spread to the east. "I have seen them retreat to Mount Kamunabi and Oomizan, but this will be of little help to you. They come from all sides when they attack, and there are as many places they could hide in as there are caverns up on the hills. They aren't stupid - they know we could come after them if we knew where they nest."
"Right," Kurogane murmured, mentally going over his options. "Do you know anyone on the neighboring farms to lead us up these mountains?"
"No one approaches the line of trees anymore, my Lord. I must apologize, but I am of little help to you in your endeavors," the man replied, casting a glance over at Kurogane."I can only tell you of them what I am sure you have already heard - the ground shakes when they approach, and you can barely see them by night. Some of them grow to be as tall as a house and spit flammable fluid, others are small as dogs, and climb the roofs of burning houses easily. They feed on cattle and on humans, but they never hunt down all of us," the man wound his arms tight around his chest as though it had suddenly grown colder. "They know how to preserve their food sources."
Kurogane felt the skin in his neck prickle with unease. "It's fine," he grunted. "I'll send someone back to Suwa to get an army over here, to protect you until we've found the nest. We'll try the other farms, for now."
"May your path be blessed with good fortune," The man said and it sounded heartfelt. Kurogane inclined his head. He stepped back towards his men, having them slide back into their saddles with a gesture and a word, intent on continuing their way through the drifts of snow.
They were barely outside the farm, when something small caught Kurogane's eye. A child had stepped out of the shadow of the fence. It looked like five, at six most years old. Its hair was bright red and stood around its head like a crown. With its kimono gathered around its knees so that it wouldn't stumble, and the large eyes amidst the childish face, it was hard to tell whether he was looking at a boy or a girl. It was running barefeet, and Kurogane was almost sure that it wasn't supposed to be out in the snow. However, it stepped closer as Kurogane passed it by. It was staring up at him, seeming anxious.
"I know where they live," it said abruptly, and though it wasn't speaking loud, the words reached Kurogane clear as a bell. He pulled Byakuya to a halt and turned briefly around to look back at the farming house, but saw no one outside in search for the child, yet.
"My Lord?" one of the retainers called out questioningly. Some of the men had stopped amidst the snowy rice fields to wait for him, looking over their shoulders.
"Ride ahead, I will be right behind," Kurogane shouted. He waited until they had exchanged a brief look, nodded and continued to ride on. He turned back to the girl. Byakuya was prancing nervously, throwing his head back with a snort. The small human moved back half a step, watching the hooves nervously. "What did you mean by that? How would you know where they live?"
"They travel by night, when most people won't notice them," the child said. "But they send bad dreams - their howls do. They keep waking me. I can hear them, and I know of their paths."
Kurogane stared at the child for a long moment. He couldn't deny that children often saw and heard things that adults wouldn't notice. "Have you seen where they come from, then?" he asked.
The child pointed straight to the west. It didn't seem to feel the cold that was seeping into its feet and hands. "They always come from Mount Kammabi," it said, fusing the syllabels of the name in childish tumble. "They travel to each of the other mountains that surround the valley, to Reihou and Oomizan and the ones beyond, but they will always return to Kammabi." It stopped there, seeming a bit unsure of whether to continue.
"What?" Kurogane asked.
"You have to promise to not tell my father," the child said anxiously, hands clutched in front of its belly nervously. Kurogane cast another glance over at the farming house, but still couldn't see anyone outside. He finally swung his foot off the horse's back and dropped down into the snow. He kneeled in front of the child and looked it straight in the eye. A flower that Kurogane didn't know was tucked behind its ear, and Kurogane wondered where it would come from, during this season. Just as the child's naked feet and its light kimono it seemed dislocated amidst the snow. Probably a girl, Kurogane decided now that he looked at the child this close, too small and too thin for her age, and dirty, either way.
"I promise," he said earnestly. The child favored him with a small smile and then, after casting a furtive glance to the side as though someone might listen in, leaned in a bit, as though to whisper into his ear.
"I sometimes follow them," she said quietly. "The adults say the ground vibrates under their feet when the demons are close, but its truly them calling to each other - it's so low that most people can't hear them, but I do. The animals do, as well. If you look very close, you can see the moonlight shining off their fur, but the rest of them you can barely see, as though they were ghosts.
"I've watched them for nights. I can show you which path to take," she said slowly. "They move very carefully when they fear that someone might see them, but further up, the marks they leave in the snow grow less careful and you can easily follow their path. I know because I did. But my father can't know, he would be very angry."
"You shouldn't go up there," he said lowly. "It's dangerous and that is why your parents tell you not to." She lowered her gaze, fiddling with her hands.
"I know," she whispered.
"Why do you go, then," he probed.
"Because they are going to kill us, anyway," the child said, and she sounded surprisingly serene, like a fact that she had come to terms with. Kurogane felt a shiver run down his spine. "My mother keeps saying that, and my father won't say otherwise. I think they're right."
Kurogane wondered whether this child wasn't much older than she looked. "Listen," he said. She looked up at him out of big, dry eyes. "I am going to find and kill these demons. Whatever it costs."
"You shouldn't go," she said a bit too fast. She seemed anxious. "It's dangerous. They... they killed my brother," she said hollowly and Kurogane gritted his teeth.
"They won't kill you," he said, in the end. The girl opened her mouth as though to protest, but then closed it, simply looking at him with an eerie silence. "Go home, now. Your mother will miss you, if you don't."
She smiled a wavering smile at him, before she turned and took a few tentative steps in the direction of the farm. Kurogane mounted his horse, pressed his feet to the beast's side, and took off towards his men. They were watching him when he came back, and all they needed were his firm nod and a word. They were hard-pressed if they wanted to climb the mountain and be back before sunlight ran out.
Reality found Fai on his knees in the darkness, sucking in breaths of air thick with incense. His tongue lay in his mouth like a fuzzy animal that had crept there to die, and a slow, pounding headache had spread in his temples. His legs had fallen asleep and he unfolded them from under himself with a slow grunt of pain as the circulation resumed.
"You were gone for longer than usual," a quiet, female voice told him. "The ninth hour has come and passed." Fai closed his eyes for a moment to calm himself, shifting to sit cross-legged and straightening his back. Only then, when his features had settled and his posture composed, he turned to look at the other miko. Arashi held a cup with tea out to him, her features calm and unmoved. Fai sometimes felt that this incarnation of Arashi was as indestructible as Suwa Taishi itself. But now, after hours of meditation to watch over his steps in the other world, even her face looked drained of color and her forehead was glistening with a thin layer of sweat.
He swallowed the sour taste in his mouth and his voice scraped unbecomingly across the single word of "thanks," as he accepted the cup. His eyes shifted to take in the rest of the room behind him briefly; the remaining three miko were huddled together at the side of the room, facing in their direction. As he met their eyes, they averting them quickly. Their whispered conversation came to a stop, and the girl that had talked tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes downcast in embarrassment. Dissappointment. Possibly gossip. Either way, their patience was running out. Fai only hoped that he would succeed before it turned into resentment towards the strange foreigner that claimed to be a magician but knew so little about the ways of Nihon's magic.
A slow shiver ran down his spine when he was once again reminded that this had been the seventh attempt to help him reach the gods, and the seventh time they had failed. And it won't be the last one, a vicious little voice whispered at the back of his head. His muscles that were tired from going unused twitched and he almost let the cup fall. He hurriedly swallowed some of the tea, letting the bitter note settle him.
"I am sorry," he said into the silence, his head bowed. Arashi watched him for a moment, then she turned towards the girls.
"Leave us," she ordered the assembled miko that were still quiet and subdued. "You may rest in the entrance hall, and otherwise are free to return home. I await you at dusk of tomorrow morning."
The miko stood to offer their goodbyes and thanks and filed out of the room swiftly with one last glance at the pair that was engulfed by the light of the fires. Finally, they were alone with the flames and the ever-present gurgling of water. Fai looked at her, but her gaze was still concentrated on the doors, her face blank as to not betray any emotion.
"The kekkai will last for another day," Arashi said, still not looking at him. "I will raise a barrier by morrow that will protect the village and the path towards the fields and the shrine. You should try again, after the solstice, when the magic is still strong in the air and the gods are sated."
"I'm not sure it's worth it, Arashi-san," Fai burst out. She turned to look him in the eye, and a hint of worry shone in her face. She didn't seem surprised, though. Fai sighed and rubbed a hand over his heavy lids. "I don't know whether your gods will ever accept a foreigner to use the lanes - I sometimes wonder whether there isn't too much knowledge of different magic stuck in my head to make it possible for me to truly understand your ways."
"You have a lot to learn, but you also have enough magic to rival that of the Tsukuyomi," Arashi reminded him quietly. "Your doubt won't help you to find them and beg their help, Fai-san. It's the way of a child to give up this early."
"I'm wondering whether it isn't more childish to continue and tire you and the women of the shrine," Fai murmured. He turned the cup in his fingers, brushing across the beautiful black enamel. "It's a gift to realize when to stop something, too."
"Most miko don't meet the gods at the first try, some won't ever," Arashi shook her head; she sounded stern, and a bit exasperated. "But I have trained more novices of Shintoism than just you - all the abilities and talents you need to master the channels rest within you. But the step on being taken worthy is something that I can't teach you. This is a test you have to solve, by yourself."
"I simply don't know what to learn to get past this stage, Arashi-san - I don't know where to look for what I'm missing. I'm not one of your students, I'm not even Japanese. There are things I will never fully grasp about your culture and ways," Fai broke off as he realized how petulant and bitter he sounded. He let out a small, unamused laugh at himself. "I'm really being childish. I'm sorry to speak like this, I simply get frustrated with how slow I'm progressing."
"I tell you, Fai Flowright," Arashi said after a short pause, drawing his attention by the shimmer in her dark eyes and the use of his name. "Suwa needs you. If you do not trust my words when, then ask your husband."
"I'm sure 'my husband' finds colorful words when it comes to my usefulness," he said with a crooked smile.
"You know that is not true," Arashi said with a soft smile, taking the cup from him. "Go home for now. Do your exercise and rest. Don't dwell on the darkness - it has swallowed better men and women, before."
Fai thanked her, and left the shrine on stiff legs. The entrance hall was already empty when he passed by, and he took a moment to stretch with a drawn-out groan. He let himself fall over and touch his flat hands to the ground, feeling muscles in his back pop and loosen. He slowly came back up, relief flooding his tired body as he stretched over backwards, arms akimbo. He looked at the shrine upside down, blood flowing down into his face. His eyes glided over to the carved statue of Takeminakata almost on their own.
Fai straightened himself, taking the statue in more carefully, the way he had when he had first set foot into the shrine. The depiction of the God of hunting was gruesome, showing him in the fight that had made him lose both arms. The appendages were lying at his feet among a slaughtered heap enemy. His torso twisted in pain and his mouth opened in a scream of rage and sorrow. He would run from the fight, after this fight had happened, and he would find his new home at Suwa, sheltered by the woods and loved by the beautiful Yasakatome despite the shortcomings of his body.
Fai shivered despite himself. He turned his back on the blackened wood, thirsting for the cold, fresh air outside.
hakama - kimono "pants," worn over an actual kimono
haori - padded kimono jacket
ri - ancient Japanese measure of length, approximately half a mile long
shogi - paper-spanned gliding doors that seperate rooms in traditional Japanese houses
Suwa Taishi - "taishi" is name affix used for shrines
zouri - straw sandals similar to flip flops, worn with tabi, two-toed socks
ancient Japanese account of time - is confusing. The hours are not only counted backwards, they also exclude 1, 2, and 3 and vary in length depending on the season.
| 9 midnight 8 7 6 sunrise 5 4 | 9 noon 8 7 6 sunset 5 4 |
no subject
It's so... dark, and powerful, and thick with magic; this story feels old like fairy tales do, the grim ones, and your words are absolutely haunting. I love your interpretation of this culture, of this shamanistic religion, and all of the smoke and shadows involved, and Fai's gnawing doubt at himself is absolutely in character. But it's still hopeful, all the same; you can feel that too, and- oh, I'm not making sense. It's too amazing for me to be actually coherent. <33333
/sits at your feet patiently like a child waiting for the rest of a story
no subject
I only hope to get out the next part, fast - this one is a bit meager to be read without the complementing second part. :p *doing her best*
no subject
It is like I felt the cold snow under my feet and shivered as the goddess stood behind Fai... it is written so wonderful!
And Kurogane riding through the snow-covered landscape, looking for the demons to hunt them down and protect his people... god, I love this!
*is completely awed and curious about the next part*
<333 and hugs
no subject
Ehrlich, als du mir heute (gestern >.>;) im Otmar gesagt hast, wie sehr dir der Teil gefallen hat, ist mir wirklich das Herz aufgegangen. Danke dir so sehr für deine Unterstützung! Ich war doch SOWAS VON NERVÖS wegen dieser Geschichte... Danke dafür, dass du mir Mut gemacht hast! :DDDDDD
HAB DICH LIEB! /SNUGS TIGHT
no subject
You.... can just... have me. My firstborn child. My soul. My super-secret chicken salad recipe. HAVE IT ALL.
I seriously love every single part of this. I'll gush and tell you all of them later when I'm not busy pointing, jibbering, running around in panicked, joyous circles, and so forth. Oh, wait, I'm not doing any of that. I'M LAYING ON THE FLOOR DEAD. I LOVE YOU. ♥ ♥ ♥
no subject
THANK YOU SO MUCH! :DDDD /sags in relief
Oh god, thank you for the chicken salad recipe, cause chicken salad is AMAZING! (Your firstborn you better keep, I'm not that good changing diapers and the child would grow up having rotten teeth from all the chocolate. Same about your soul, you'll get it back FAT.)
I LOVE YOU, TOO! ♥♥♥
no subject
*can't think of all the words needed to describe love for this*
no subject
I'm sorry to hear you're sick, and I hope you're getting better soon! Thank you so much for the love~ /HUGS YOU
/hands over panacae = chocolate
no subject
no subject
no subject
I am trying to put my thoughts into words and I I I
The images you conjure in here are so fantastic and all of your description of the magic and how it works from world to world and especially in Nihon are so thorough and amazing. I'm seriously sitting here wondering how you came up with all of this <3
My favorite thing, though, is how you have them set up working on two sides of the problem and how it is vital that they both succeed. This is really where they're the best and you bring that out so wonderfully through Fai's angst over not being able to complete his part. <3<3<3<3<3
I am sooooo excited for the rest of this.
/loves all over you
no subject
THANK YOU SO MUCH! You're wonderful! :DDDD /HUGS YOU TIGHT
I really craved to write an adventure of some sort, and to try and get the dynamic right that they would have with only the two of them left. /fails so bad at fluff
And you just actively spurred me into going over the second part of this, to hopefully post it soon! <3333
/loves all over, tooooo