Title: Sennyo no Chishio
Author: Suzaku Ou Fandom: Rurouni Kenshin Pairing: Saitou x Sanosuke Rating: Part 1, PG-13 with warnings for violence, partial female nudity, and yaoi lime. Disclaimers: 1) Rurouni Kenshin and all its characters belong to Watsuki Nobuhiro, Anime Works, and somebody else I'm forgetting because I don't own the manga. 2) This story takes place 2 years after the end of the Revenge arc/Samurai X. It assumes that Saitou and Sanosuke are already together romantically before the action of the story begins. Better authors than I have tackled getting these two together in the first place- I probably will one day, but it doesn't fit in this story. 3) This is a Gothic short story in reverse, and the prose style is as dense and occasionally slow as in most Gothic stories.
Sennyo no Chishio
I.
Wabitsutsu wa
Kasaneshi sode no Utsurika ni Omoiyosoete Orishi tachibana
It was in dejection That I broke off this orange blossom For it brought to mind The scent with which my sleeves were steeped When they were piled on yours in sleep
Kenreimon-in Ukyo no Daibu
Translated by Phillip Tudor Harries
Her screams cut through the night like dead whistles through a broken flute. They cut through his ears with a feeling like jagged steel, once more broken off and clutched in the fingers of the damned. In his life, hearing the screaming of women at night was a disgustingly familiar thing, but never had it been quite so eerie. The agony he could hear in that woman's cry was not something any living being should have been able to convey in sound. It sent icy trickles of doubt and nausea traveling through his stomach, but he would not have been the man he was if he hadn't gone after her. Not to investigate what was happening, but to stop it. His sandaled feet kicked up clouds of dust along the street, clouds that looked white in the darkness of the night air. The combination of those misty coils around his feet and the white of his clothing, luminous in the moonlight, might have made this young man seem ghostly. Or, perhaps not. There was something earthy about Sanosuke, earthy and full of life. Even his brownish-black hair stuck up in soft waving spikes like leaves straining skyward for sunlight. He passed the blind walls of houses, seeming like dead outlines in the silence that had swallowed that woman's screams. No one else moved in the streets, all seeking the comfort of their own houses it seemed. Mice fleeing the shockwaves of a cat's paws. Sanosuke continued unafraid, glancing down each alley after the dangerous sort of company he would soon have. The closer he came to where the sounds had been coming from, the more the silence seemed to grow, until he could hear the rustle of his own clothing and the whisper of spring's first leaves dancing in the frozen wind. He could also hear a slow, sucking cracking sound that he didn't recognize, but was certain didn't mean anything good. Fighting down his own fury, he advanced into a narrow cul-de-sac between houses. It was a place where, in better times, laundry had been washed and hung to dry, and children had played with balls and sticks. None of that laughter or chatter remained. Sano had planned to go in a charge, fists smashing to the bone, but his plans disintegrated at the scene played out before him. She stood in the midst of a rapidly forming circle of blood. Blood was leaking from the necks of fallen bodies- large, able-looking men stretched out at her feet. The bodies were like giant, ugly humps of meat, in stark contrast to the blood. Black in the moonlight, it trailed in sticky, caterpillar webs into odd, magical-looking patterns. Sano had seen blood spatters many times, and he knew in the pit of his stomach that blood shouldn't flow like that. But worse than that was the woman. She was tiny and delicate-boned, with long black hair that trailed around her in the winter wind. Her kimono seemed to be red, intricately made, but it had fallen loose over her shoulders and now hung over her elbows, displaying the long slender outline of her back. In her fingers were clutched the blood-matted hair of these men, dangling their missing heads. Trapped in their lax faces and sightless eyes was an expression of horror visible even in the dark. She turned, slowly. Her body was arched back, as if she were dancing with the heads of these murdered men. Her full breasts were bare, with flat copper nipples that looked red, and her face, which was beautiful, was transfixed into the pure ecstasy of orgasm. Sanosuke took a step back. Memories of grandmothers' tales and an inborn instinct told him that not only was this not a creature of his world, it was also a scene never meant to be witnessed by men. Her eyes, squeezed shut in fierce joy, opened slowly. They caught Sanosuke's eyes with eerie precision. Her eyes were laughing with a cold, secret amusement. Never breaking eye contact, she kicked up her little feet and danced out of the circle of corpses, disappearing through a narrow margin at the edge of the cul-de-sac. Sanosuke woke up as if from a trance. His body was soaked in icy sweat. Though he couldn't be sure because of the darkness, he could have sworn that her eyes were blood red.
The first thing he needed, he told himself, was a hot bath. That cold-blooded scene wouldn't leave his head. Every time he closed his eyes, it was there. It was disturbing, and also annoying. As a man used to facing his fears with his own bare hands, it was hard to guess how to face a fear he couldn't fight. He needed to warm himself. Things would be better when he was warm. He growled at the childish thought, slipped out of his sandals and opened the door to his home. Empty, darkened hallways nonetheless made a welcome change from the street. Something about the familiarity of the place he slept was comforting. Somewhere between the hall and the bathing chamber, Sano lost his kimono jacket and, one-handed, dealt with the ties of his hakama. Halfway in the process of losing those, he noticed the amber glow of an oil lamp in the bedroom and glanced over to a familiar, lean figure propped up on cushions and smoking a cigarette. The red glow of the tip reminded him unpleasantly of that woman's eyes, but then the thought slammed itself into his brain. Violently. That's Saitou. Hakama slipping silkily around his knees, Sanosuke felt himself blush. But why? It was nothing that the other man hadn't seen before. It was just that he hadn't intended to be putting on a strip show, and. "I'm taking a bath," he said shortly, and leaving his hakama behind him, entered the bathing chamber. He lit the taper lying in its tray by the door, and was granted limited vision, murky with a violet tint. Mysteriously, the hot water was already there. Sano had the distinct feeling that it was unlikely Saitou had been responsible, and made a mental note to thank his landlady. As he slipped into the welcoming hot water, he heard the sound of footsteps along the hall and turned just in time to see Hajime in the doorway, the end of that cigarette still dangling from his long fingers. He was half dressed down, not wearing gloves, and his uniform jacket was missing, leaving only the tight black shirt he wore underneath, and trousers. His slicked-back black hair shimmered red-violet with the phosphorous glow of the taper. "That was a little abrupt for you. What's wrong, lost gambling?" Even when he really tried, Saitou had trouble sounding like anything other than an asshole. Sanosuke closed his eyes and tried to shake it off, interpreting for the hidden meaning beneath the insulting demeanor. "If I told you, you'd think I was drunk." Sanosuke imagined Saitou's eyebrow lifting, since he couldn't see it. The ex-Shinsengumi captain ground his cigarette out in the taper tray and sat down near the edge of the bathing tub, reaching out to wrap a hand around the back of Sanosuke's head and pull it toward himself. Sano moved into that pull willingly, knowing what was to come and realizing he wanted it very badly. Their lips locked together, sliding over each other with the usual momentary quest for dominance. Saitou's tongue slid between and danced the inside curve of Sanosuke's lips before tracing the length of his tongue. The kiss was odd, really. On Saitou's side it was strangely matter-of-fact, and on Sano's strangely desperate. "Well, not too drunk," was the low-voiced, level reply, after Saitou pulled away. Dangling his fingers in the bath water, he continued. "So tell me." Sanosuke leaned further into that water himself and told him. His voice stayed level, even though once or twice he feared it might tremble and betray his stunning lack of courage and manliness during that hellish scene. At the end he said, "And you'll say it was the moonlight, or my imagination, but Hajime, I swear her eyes were red." Saitou was silent for a long time, long enough to make Sano sweat. When he looked up, the dim light reflected off his amber eyes and made them glow like those of a wolf stalking by night. "I've been placed on that case. Hunting that woman. They call her Sennyo no Chishio." The Blood Fairy. Sano repressed a shudder. That was very appropriate. Saitou continued, "She has killed fifteen men now, under this guise of a witch or elf. She lures them with her body and then cuts off their heads. She takes the heads." Sanosuke was starting to experience a sinking feeling in his stomach. That would definitely fall under the category of Aku. Soku. Zan. But this creature. it wasn't some earthly killer or evil woman. It made him very, very nervous. "So you're going after her?" "Aa." "Hajime, you." He struggled for a way to put this that might somehow convince him. Ha, convince Saitou? And maybe the sun would come up from the west tomorrow morning. ".you think a normal woman could have done that? Just decapitate three large men?" Saitou shrugged. "I think you're missing the point. If she were a normal woman, someone else would have caught her." He forced himself to just say it, levelly, like an adult. "I don't think she's human." Wait for it. "Ahou." Saitou rose fluidly to his feet. "You're welcome to believe those children's stories if you like, but I don't." His shadow disappeared from the room, leaving even more of a sense of unease inside it. Sanosuke growled and struck the water with his fist. "Don't call me an 'ahou,' you damn snob! I'm the one who's actually thinking about this, here!" He subsided, muttering, "The point is.if you listen to those stories, you know it only matters if they believe in themselves."
After his bath, Sanosuke slipped through the cold air, into the blankets strewn around the bedroom. He wouldn't have been surprised if he found Saitou gone, but was relieved and pleased that he was still there. He slipped his damp, nude form around the slightly taller body of his lover, just holding him so tightly his arms ached. This continued for a few seconds, until Saitou moved in his arms, extinguishing the lamp and beginning the rough, demanding caresses that would pull Sanosuke into sex that was unusually passionate, even needy. They hadn't made love like that in a long time- like new lovers, uncertain of each other. It showed that both of them weren't entirely happy with this state of events.
Author: Suzaku Ou Fandom: Rurouni Kenshin Pairing: Saitou x Sanosuke Rating: Part 1, PG-13 with warnings for violence, partial female nudity, and yaoi lime. Disclaimers: 1) Rurouni Kenshin and all its characters belong to Watsuki Nobuhiro, Anime Works, and somebody else I'm forgetting because I don't own the manga. 2) This story takes place 2 years after the end of the Revenge arc/Samurai X. It assumes that Saitou and Sanosuke are already together romantically before the action of the story begins. Better authors than I have tackled getting these two together in the first place- I probably will one day, but it doesn't fit in this story. 3) This is a Gothic short story in reverse, and the prose style is as dense and occasionally slow as in most Gothic stories.
Sennyo no Chishio
I.
Wabitsutsu wa
Kasaneshi sode no Utsurika ni Omoiyosoete Orishi tachibana
It was in dejection That I broke off this orange blossom For it brought to mind The scent with which my sleeves were steeped When they were piled on yours in sleep
Kenreimon-in Ukyo no Daibu
Translated by Phillip Tudor Harries
Her screams cut through the night like dead whistles through a broken flute. They cut through his ears with a feeling like jagged steel, once more broken off and clutched in the fingers of the damned. In his life, hearing the screaming of women at night was a disgustingly familiar thing, but never had it been quite so eerie. The agony he could hear in that woman's cry was not something any living being should have been able to convey in sound. It sent icy trickles of doubt and nausea traveling through his stomach, but he would not have been the man he was if he hadn't gone after her. Not to investigate what was happening, but to stop it. His sandaled feet kicked up clouds of dust along the street, clouds that looked white in the darkness of the night air. The combination of those misty coils around his feet and the white of his clothing, luminous in the moonlight, might have made this young man seem ghostly. Or, perhaps not. There was something earthy about Sanosuke, earthy and full of life. Even his brownish-black hair stuck up in soft waving spikes like leaves straining skyward for sunlight. He passed the blind walls of houses, seeming like dead outlines in the silence that had swallowed that woman's screams. No one else moved in the streets, all seeking the comfort of their own houses it seemed. Mice fleeing the shockwaves of a cat's paws. Sanosuke continued unafraid, glancing down each alley after the dangerous sort of company he would soon have. The closer he came to where the sounds had been coming from, the more the silence seemed to grow, until he could hear the rustle of his own clothing and the whisper of spring's first leaves dancing in the frozen wind. He could also hear a slow, sucking cracking sound that he didn't recognize, but was certain didn't mean anything good. Fighting down his own fury, he advanced into a narrow cul-de-sac between houses. It was a place where, in better times, laundry had been washed and hung to dry, and children had played with balls and sticks. None of that laughter or chatter remained. Sano had planned to go in a charge, fists smashing to the bone, but his plans disintegrated at the scene played out before him. She stood in the midst of a rapidly forming circle of blood. Blood was leaking from the necks of fallen bodies- large, able-looking men stretched out at her feet. The bodies were like giant, ugly humps of meat, in stark contrast to the blood. Black in the moonlight, it trailed in sticky, caterpillar webs into odd, magical-looking patterns. Sano had seen blood spatters many times, and he knew in the pit of his stomach that blood shouldn't flow like that. But worse than that was the woman. She was tiny and delicate-boned, with long black hair that trailed around her in the winter wind. Her kimono seemed to be red, intricately made, but it had fallen loose over her shoulders and now hung over her elbows, displaying the long slender outline of her back. In her fingers were clutched the blood-matted hair of these men, dangling their missing heads. Trapped in their lax faces and sightless eyes was an expression of horror visible even in the dark. She turned, slowly. Her body was arched back, as if she were dancing with the heads of these murdered men. Her full breasts were bare, with flat copper nipples that looked red, and her face, which was beautiful, was transfixed into the pure ecstasy of orgasm. Sanosuke took a step back. Memories of grandmothers' tales and an inborn instinct told him that not only was this not a creature of his world, it was also a scene never meant to be witnessed by men. Her eyes, squeezed shut in fierce joy, opened slowly. They caught Sanosuke's eyes with eerie precision. Her eyes were laughing with a cold, secret amusement. Never breaking eye contact, she kicked up her little feet and danced out of the circle of corpses, disappearing through a narrow margin at the edge of the cul-de-sac. Sanosuke woke up as if from a trance. His body was soaked in icy sweat. Though he couldn't be sure because of the darkness, he could have sworn that her eyes were blood red.
The first thing he needed, he told himself, was a hot bath. That cold-blooded scene wouldn't leave his head. Every time he closed his eyes, it was there. It was disturbing, and also annoying. As a man used to facing his fears with his own bare hands, it was hard to guess how to face a fear he couldn't fight. He needed to warm himself. Things would be better when he was warm. He growled at the childish thought, slipped out of his sandals and opened the door to his home. Empty, darkened hallways nonetheless made a welcome change from the street. Something about the familiarity of the place he slept was comforting. Somewhere between the hall and the bathing chamber, Sano lost his kimono jacket and, one-handed, dealt with the ties of his hakama. Halfway in the process of losing those, he noticed the amber glow of an oil lamp in the bedroom and glanced over to a familiar, lean figure propped up on cushions and smoking a cigarette. The red glow of the tip reminded him unpleasantly of that woman's eyes, but then the thought slammed itself into his brain. Violently. That's Saitou. Hakama slipping silkily around his knees, Sanosuke felt himself blush. But why? It was nothing that the other man hadn't seen before. It was just that he hadn't intended to be putting on a strip show, and. "I'm taking a bath," he said shortly, and leaving his hakama behind him, entered the bathing chamber. He lit the taper lying in its tray by the door, and was granted limited vision, murky with a violet tint. Mysteriously, the hot water was already there. Sano had the distinct feeling that it was unlikely Saitou had been responsible, and made a mental note to thank his landlady. As he slipped into the welcoming hot water, he heard the sound of footsteps along the hall and turned just in time to see Hajime in the doorway, the end of that cigarette still dangling from his long fingers. He was half dressed down, not wearing gloves, and his uniform jacket was missing, leaving only the tight black shirt he wore underneath, and trousers. His slicked-back black hair shimmered red-violet with the phosphorous glow of the taper. "That was a little abrupt for you. What's wrong, lost gambling?" Even when he really tried, Saitou had trouble sounding like anything other than an asshole. Sanosuke closed his eyes and tried to shake it off, interpreting for the hidden meaning beneath the insulting demeanor. "If I told you, you'd think I was drunk." Sanosuke imagined Saitou's eyebrow lifting, since he couldn't see it. The ex-Shinsengumi captain ground his cigarette out in the taper tray and sat down near the edge of the bathing tub, reaching out to wrap a hand around the back of Sanosuke's head and pull it toward himself. Sano moved into that pull willingly, knowing what was to come and realizing he wanted it very badly. Their lips locked together, sliding over each other with the usual momentary quest for dominance. Saitou's tongue slid between and danced the inside curve of Sanosuke's lips before tracing the length of his tongue. The kiss was odd, really. On Saitou's side it was strangely matter-of-fact, and on Sano's strangely desperate. "Well, not too drunk," was the low-voiced, level reply, after Saitou pulled away. Dangling his fingers in the bath water, he continued. "So tell me." Sanosuke leaned further into that water himself and told him. His voice stayed level, even though once or twice he feared it might tremble and betray his stunning lack of courage and manliness during that hellish scene. At the end he said, "And you'll say it was the moonlight, or my imagination, but Hajime, I swear her eyes were red." Saitou was silent for a long time, long enough to make Sano sweat. When he looked up, the dim light reflected off his amber eyes and made them glow like those of a wolf stalking by night. "I've been placed on that case. Hunting that woman. They call her Sennyo no Chishio." The Blood Fairy. Sano repressed a shudder. That was very appropriate. Saitou continued, "She has killed fifteen men now, under this guise of a witch or elf. She lures them with her body and then cuts off their heads. She takes the heads." Sanosuke was starting to experience a sinking feeling in his stomach. That would definitely fall under the category of Aku. Soku. Zan. But this creature. it wasn't some earthly killer or evil woman. It made him very, very nervous. "So you're going after her?" "Aa." "Hajime, you." He struggled for a way to put this that might somehow convince him. Ha, convince Saitou? And maybe the sun would come up from the west tomorrow morning. ".you think a normal woman could have done that? Just decapitate three large men?" Saitou shrugged. "I think you're missing the point. If she were a normal woman, someone else would have caught her." He forced himself to just say it, levelly, like an adult. "I don't think she's human." Wait for it. "Ahou." Saitou rose fluidly to his feet. "You're welcome to believe those children's stories if you like, but I don't." His shadow disappeared from the room, leaving even more of a sense of unease inside it. Sanosuke growled and struck the water with his fist. "Don't call me an 'ahou,' you damn snob! I'm the one who's actually thinking about this, here!" He subsided, muttering, "The point is.if you listen to those stories, you know it only matters if they believe in themselves."
After his bath, Sanosuke slipped through the cold air, into the blankets strewn around the bedroom. He wouldn't have been surprised if he found Saitou gone, but was relieved and pleased that he was still there. He slipped his damp, nude form around the slightly taller body of his lover, just holding him so tightly his arms ached. This continued for a few seconds, until Saitou moved in his arms, extinguishing the lamp and beginning the rough, demanding caresses that would pull Sanosuke into sex that was unusually passionate, even needy. They hadn't made love like that in a long time- like new lovers, uncertain of each other. It showed that both of them weren't entirely happy with this state of events.