Tibi Soli Peccavi
j-chan [joudama]
jfaulkne@hotmail.com
*** *** *** ***
Prologue:
Saisho no deai
[Encounter the First]
The mazoku stared at the
man who could not see the smiling face he displayed to him. "Sou...quite
a problem you have, neh?"
The young priest, who's name
was already beginning to be praised for so many good and wondrous deeds, said
nothing for a long moment . Then: "Not one whose resolution would be
found speaking to one of...your kind."
"Maa, maa!" the mazoku
said, his smile widening ever so slightly; taking on a slightly sinister aspect
that the priest in red--this young paragon of human virtue--could not see.
That thought made the smile
widen further. "No need for such a tone of voice. We are only
talking."
"So speak, mazoku."
The mazoku pouted. "So rude,
and here, I came to offer my assistance."
"The aid of a mazoku?
Such things rarely come cheap," the priest said.
"Quite true, quite true,"
the mazoku said. "However...sometimes, mutually beneficial deals can
be struck, neh? I have something you want, you have something I would
want."
"And that would be?"
"So impatient! Don't
you even want to hear what I have to offer you?"
"What could you possibly
have to offer me that I could want?"
The mazoku's eyes opened,
and the slitted pupils dilated slightly. "The one thing you can not
grant yourself...the power to unseal your eyes."
The priest started.
"Wh-what? I-impossible. My eyes...my eyes can not be unsealed...they..."
"Not by human magic, no,"
the mazoku said, closing his own eyes. "At least, not by any you know.
But I know of a way. It is possible."
A look the mazoku was not
used to seeing was on the priest's face. Hope. A most disagreeable
expression, really.
"How? How? It's
impossible!"
The mazoku chuckled slightly.
"But there is a way, my dear priest. And when you are ready...perhaps
I will tell you."
The man let out a strangled
cry. The sound was sweet to the mazoku's ears; it was the sound of one
who has had his dream appear real before him, and then fade out of reach as
soon as it is recognized; intangible again after so long.
The mazoku stood up.
"Well...this has been fun. Since you have no need for one of...my kind,
I will leave. Wouldn't want to sully your name." The mazoku walked
away, internally counting to see how long it would be before ...
"Wait!"
Ahh. A moment sooner
than he would have guessed. The priest was hungrier for this than he
had been for anything. It was a gnawing hunger, a hunger that was a
sweetness to the mazoku; a hunger that bespoke more than even the good priest
was aware of--a hunger that could be stoked, a hunger that could awake the
sleeping beast within--both the Dark Lord...and the man's own dark urges;
so close to the surface needing only the slightest touch...but ahh, was that
not why he had been sent?
The priest's words were as
strangled as the cry of pain that had come moments before. "Please...please...is
there a way? I need only to know that there is, that..." He fell
silent, choking on the words, scarcely able to believe he so pleaded with
a mazoku. A mazoku!
"Oh, there is a way...but
you won't find it in any White magic or Shamanist spells. It is not
in the realm of either. It was White magic that bound your eyes, and
only Black magic can unbind them."
The man paled, looking as
if he had been struck. "What? White ma...no...no..."
"Yes," the mazoku said.
"Surely you can sense that? Or is it so close to you that you never
did? White magic, the magic you have studied for so long, is that which
binds your eyes. White magic is the root of your curse. None of your
good deeds, none of your skill with White magic, none of it, will undo what
has been done. Why do you think all White mages who see you say that
nothing can be done? Why your own power is useless? All you do,
all the power you give to White magic, only strengthens the binding on your
eyes. You do so much good, hoping in some way you'll be repaid...and
yet you yourself sense that the binding only grows stronger...neh?"
The look on the man's face--the
horror, the pain, the realization of the truth of the mazoku's words--there
were no words for the joy the mazoku felt at them; no words for the beauty
of seeing the young priest's delicate features show so plainly his pain.
This rising young priest, whose names was so lauded already. So easy
to make his true nature, the nature of Shabranigidou, to come to the surface...and
the more base, the nature of a man. For when all was said and done,
for all his good and noble deeds, he was still simply a man--a paragon of
humanity. And that would be his fall.
For the mazoku had spoken
the truth. That was not himitsu.
Or rather, it was not *his*
himitsu. He could not speak for others.
"Ja ne," the mazoku
said with a smile and a bow. "Think about what I've said, and when you
are ready..." his eyes opened, "we will talk again.
"Neh?"
*** *** *** ***
sore wa
*** *** *** ***
Shinjitsu
Truth
The priest:
How I could pretend his words
were nothing but the lies of a mazoku--a damned mazoku--when my own heart
told me they were the truth? When part of me sang out at his words;
part of me felt and colluded with the blasphemy coming from his mouth?
Oh L-sama, L-sama...such
words, such things...could it be? How could this be? I had lived
my life seeking only to do good! But...but did I seek it because I had
hoped that I would be rewarded? That these cursed eyes would one day
open, and would one day see? Was my goodness nothing but that?
Is what he said true?
I can not believe it...I
can not...I...I...but...it is the truth, is it not? It is...is it?
L-sama, what I feel. What I feel right now!
If it was true...how could
it be thus, that a mazoku...that I have lived my life only *strengthening*
the binding on my eyes? L-sama, is there no justice? Could it
be that all my good deeds have only cursed me more?
L-sama...lady...if what he has said is true...if...my lady...no...
***
The red priest looked up
with a sigh. "I know you're there. Stop lurking like a frightened
child and say something."
The servant swallowed.
"S-sorry to disturb your studies, my lord...but a message has come in for
you. The person delivering it said it was of some import, and..."
"Bring it here, then," the
priest said, closing his book tiredly. Every day, nothing, nothing,
and still more of nothing. It was wearying...it seemed the more he searched,
the more elusive a cure was...the more it seemed that perhaps...perhaps the
mazoku...
He stopped the thought angrily.
No. The mazoku...it was not possible. But even after all these
years...it still seemed...
"Thank you." he said automatically
as the servant pressed the message into the priest's hand. "You may
go now."
"Yessir," the man said nervously,
bowing as he left, grateful to be able to leave. As soon as the man
was gone, the priest let his fingers run over the text of the message.
|
My lord. My name is Madrigaru Greywars. I am writing you on
behalf of my adopted son. His true mother died giving birth to
him, and I and my husband raised him as our own. However, I
am ill, and I know that I am not long for this world. It is because of this that I write you now. I pray you, continue to read. This is not an idle request, although I know you surely must receive messages like this daily, asking you to help. But this is not a request. This is something you must do. Not only to aid a child, but because it is your duty and your responsibility. I have raised and loved this child who is not mine all of his life. I have not asked of you any of what many have said I should have. I did this out of respect for the dead, but now that I am about to join them, I will see that my requests are carried out. I am not dead yet, but I shall soon be, and I will see this done before it is too late. Because this child means more to me than anything in the world. I love my husband, but he and the boy do not get along well. I can not let him stay here without me. And so, even though I know it was against the dying wish of his mother, I write to you, because the boy can not stay here. The boy's mother's name was Zera. |
The priest's hand pulled
back and he nearly dropped the paper. Impossible...
He began to read again.
|
The boy's mother's name was Zera. This name will not be unknown
to you. And it is who you think. It is for this reason
that the child is your responsibility. I promised Zera on her deathbed
that I would watch out for her child; that I would raise him as
my own and care for him. It is because I take this vow so
seriously that I break my other promise to Zera and call upon you. Please, for the boy's sake. Take the child. I am not long for here, but I can not die until I know the boy will be cared for by his kin. Please. But if you will not come to him, then I will send him to you. Because he cannot stay here. |
The priest's hands shook
as he put the paper down. Zera...Zera was dead? And a child...she
had had a child? Zera? His daughter was...and she had had a child?
He was on his feet before
he was aware of it, and calling for the servant who had just left. The
servant came quickly, but already the priest was pacing. "Prepare a
carriage." he snapped. "I have business I must attend to. See
that a bag is packed; I will be leaving in ten minutes."
"Yes, my lord," the man said,
and hurried to do as he had been bid.
A child?
Zera...Zera...why didn't
you tell me? Why didn't you come back to me? Zera? Was I
so horrible, Zera? Zera!
She has been gone for so
long. She slipped out that night, in the middle of winter...she fled
during a snow storm, and it was not discovered until the snow had settled
and her tracks were gone. She had always been so smart, Zera--she knew
it would be impossible to find her. I long ago believed her to be dead.
How could she have survived? And to find out that she had; that she
had had a child...a son...
L-sama, why did you take
her from me? Why did you make her run? Was it so terrible for
her? L-sama...was I so terrible that she made a woman swear she would
never tell me the child existed?
Is it another curse, Lady?
A curse? I do such much good! I try so hard...and yet you take
everything! You took Zera from me...but perhaps...perhaps...is the boy
a gift, Lady? If I do this, will I find through him somehow my eyes?
What was done to Zera...I did for that, Lady, to find my eyes, but it didn't
work, Lady...it didn't work, and I lost Zera forever. And it was proof
the mazoku was wrong...I had followed the Black Arts when I found that evil
spell, and when I had tried it...when I tried it, I lost my Zera and gained
nothing.
But...the boy--he is my atonement,
is he not? Is he not? If I raise him as I should have my Zera...if I
keep him first in my thoughts, and not my eyes...will he show me the way?
Will he?
Lady?
*** *** *** ***
"Maa...so the priest
still searches his holy books for a cure?"
The priest slammed the book
shut. That voice...
"Mazoku."
"I have a name, you know."
the mazoku said, smiling. His smile faded. "Neh...you haven't
forgotten me, have you?"
"I tried."
The smile returned.
"But I'm so unforgettable!"
"What is it you want?"
"Me? Ahh...that doesn't
matter yet. But what you want..."
"It is nothing I can get
from you."
"Correct. *I* can not.
But I know of what will."
"You sing an old song, mazoku."
"Wait and see; you may find
this tune has a few variations."
"Come to your point and then
leave."
"Very well," the mazoku said
cheerfully. "I..."
The study door opened suddenly,
and the mazoku stopped his words.
"Re...Fath...Grandfa...sir?"
the young boy said, peeping into the study hesitantly.
The priest turned to the
door. "Yes?"
The boy looked at the priest
with wide eyes. "Sir...dinner is ready. If you'd like, I can bring
something to you...I know you're busy now...Oh! I didn't know you had
a guest. I-I'm sorry..." he stammered, cringing slightly and biting
his lip.
The priest shook his head
absentmindedly. "No, no, it's all right."
"W-would you like me to bring
food for your guest as well, sir?"
"Yes, that would be fine.
And I've told you, you needn't be so formal. I *am* your grandfather."
"Y-yes, sir." the boy said,
and disappeared behind the door.
The mazoku smiled.
"Neh...what a beautiful boy! But you wouldn't know that, would
you?"
The priest felt his smile
tighten slightly. "He has a beautiful soul. Even I can see that."
"Yes, well, no one is perfect."
"How old is he?"
"Twelve come this spring."
"Really? He looks younger.
Must be the eyes--such huge, wide-open eyes he has! Looks almost like
a girl, he's so pretty. Such round cheeks and large eyes! Not
that you would know, of course."
"Are you quite finished?"
"How long has he been around?"
"His mother died not long
after giving birth to him, and he was raised by foster parents. When
his foster mother died, I took him in. He's only been here a few months."
"Sou, sou. Well,
he certainly does brighten the place up. Nothing like the smile of a
beautiful child to make a room seem lighter, neh? Not that you've
ever seen one, though."
The priest bristled.
"Come to the point, mazoku. Why have you come back?"
"Simple. I think you're
ready."
The priest started.
There was a faint knock on
the door then the boy came in, carrying a tray. "Re...grandfather-sama,
I have...are you all right, sir?" the boy said, his eyes widening at the look
on the priest's face. The boy put the tray down and rushed to the priest's
side. "Sir? Sir? Are you all right?"
The priest took a deep breath,
then put his hand on the boy's shoulder. The mazoku watched this closely,
saying nothing.
"Yes, yes, I'm fine.
It's all right. My guest simply surprised me."
The boy shot a look at the
mazoku, and the mazoku smiled to himself at the depth of instant hate within
that look. Well...this boy was interesting, wasn't he? He was
going to be a good test for the priest, a very good test...But something nagged
at the mazoku. Something about the boy...the mazoku couldn't quite put
a finger on it, but...
"Are you sure, sir?
You look pale...would you like me to pour you a cup of wine? Or tea?
I think we still have some of that tea you like after you've been researching...
Anything?"
The priest smiled faintly,
patting the agitated boy's shoulder. "No, it's all right. Really.
You needn't worry so. Here, bring me our food. And then I want
you to head to bed; it's growing too late for young boys to still be up and
about, is it not? And you meet with your swordmaster in the morrow.
You'll need your rest for your lessons."
The boy gave the priest a
wide smile. "Yes sir!" The priest smiled back warmly, hearing
the smile in the boy's voice.
"Neh...you enjoy learning,
don't you?" the mazoku said.
The boy seemed surprised
to see him; it wouldn't have surprised the mazoku at all to find out the young
boy had forgotten he was there. He was an alert child, but for him,
there was nothing in his world except for this priest.
The child nodded. "Yes,
sir. I didn't have lessons before, even though I'd wanted to for a long
time. I get to learn so much here, thanks to Re...Grandfather."
The priest smiled.
"The boy is a sponge--making up for lost time, are you not, lad? Bring
us our food, then off to bed with you."
The boy nodded, then gathered
the trays and brought them to the table where the two sat. "Good night,
Grandfather; good night, sir." he said, bowing slightly to each, then left.
The mazoku watched the boy
leave. "Neh...the boy is quite attached to you, isn't he?"
The priest shrugged.
"Yes, it would seem so."
"And you to him?"
The priest measured his words
carefully. "He has been here only a few months. But I will not
deny he has have an impact on me." He picked up his wine glass and sipped
slowly, wondering what the mazoku was planning. "Even though I am blind,
I do see how the boy brightens the room."
After a long moment, the
mazoku's eyes opened. "I want the boy."
The priest choked on his
wine. "What?"
"The boy. I want him."
"You...you..." the man spluttered
slightly.
"Not forever. Just
one night. Give him to me, and the secret to opening your eyes is yours."
There was a pause, a slight
pause that lasted an eternity. Then: "How...how dare you?" the priest
spluttered.
"I'm patient...I'll give
you time. After all, it has been almost thirty years since we last spoke.
His mother wasn't even around back then, was she?
"Hmm...how about a year?
That enough time? Yes, I believe that will do it. I'll return
in one year. Give me my answer than. Ja ne." the mazoku
said with a smile, and vanished.
***
The priest:
At that moment I considered
it. And in that moment, I began to hate him. Hate that shining
boy. Hate him because he was so happy here. Because there was
a light around him even I could see; a light in that darkness. Because
he still had hope. He still thought that I would save him; that now
everything was right with the world, because I had saved him from his hell,
and I knew by the way he cried out in the night that it had been hell.
He had built everything up around me, around the great and wonderful priest.
He thought this, while I
considered trading him to a mazoku. I considered it only a moment, but
I still considered it.
That I could think such things
about someone who put so much faith and hope and love in me. That I
could repay that with this sort of betrayal. That he could be so pure,
that he could hold me as this paragon, while I thought only that I could use
him to grant me what had been so cruelly kept from me. That I had saved
him from his hell only to be considering delivering him to a demon.
That in the end, I would
have learned nothing for Zera. That in the end, I had not changed.
I hated him because he made
me hate myself.
Every day it grew.
Every day I heard his happy chirping of my name, every day he fluttered around
me making sure I was all right, every day he had a cup of tea waiting for
me when I finished researching, every day he was upset that I couldn't find
a cure for my blindness and cried out that it was unfair, every day his eyes
followed me with adoration I didn't need to see but could feel. Every
day, I hated him more.
And because I hated him...and
because I hated him; because I wanted to destroy that purity that was like
a mocking laughter, when the mazoku came back, I told him to take the boy.
Give me my eyes, damn it! Give me my eyes, and take away this child
who hurts me so much with his adoration. I don't deserve it, and I *hate*
him for it! Hate him for it so much I want to see him destroyed.
So much I want to see it ripped away from him. Take the boy, I said.
Take the boy and kill him for all I care. But give me my eyes, damn
you! Give me eyes to see his tears when he discovers what I've done.
Let me see the blessed relief that his hatred will be.
The die is cast, the deal
is done. But...but I can not abandon him! I will go. I will
wait outside the doors, and I will make myself listen to his cries, and I
will know that I have done this out of my own selfishness. Let it tear
at me; I will deserve it.
Because...because I love
him.
*** *** *** ***
sore wa
*** *** *** ***
Himitsu
Secret
The mazoku:
The first meeting, so long
ago to the priest, seemed like only moments ago for me. And the second
only an eyeblink. And now the third.
Take the boy. Take
the boy and kill him for all I care, but give me my eyes.
How fickle, the emotions
snaking around his heart. Amazing that a simple question could cause
that. A simple offer of a trade, and this human suddenly is filled with
self-loathing refocused on the boy--refocused on the boy for nothing more
than being so foolish as to love him.
And such games we will play.
My playground is filled with toys tonight. It always has been.
The priest, the daughter, the boy, the little toy marionettes go round and
round and round when you tug the strings. A word here, and the priest
falls. A "lost" book dropped in a path and the daughter is gone.
An offer here and the boy is traded. A string is pulled and the little
puppets do dance on their strings with no idea the strings are even being
pulled.
So take your seats, and do
be so good as to enjoy the show.
***
The mazoku polished the
jewel in his staff, the smile still on his lips. "Well, then.
No need to waste time. Would you be so kind as to show me to the boy's
room?"
The priest smiled tightly.
"Follow me, then."
Tap tinkle tadum tap tinkle
tadum tap tinkle tadum; the footsteps of the priest preceded by the sound
of his staff finding the way before him. Carefully listening, the mazoku
noticed only the barest hesitation the closer they got to the boy's room.
And more noticeably, the closer they got, the quieter and quieter the sound
of the staff, until only a few feet from a door, the priest no longer used
it.
The mazoku smiled slightly.
"It's not too late, you know. You can still back out, and I'll leave
the boy alone. I'll be taking the cure for your eyes with me, of course,
but..."
The hand on the staff tightened
and there was a faint bell-like tinkling as the metal rings struck against
each other. "I already told you my answer. There was no going
back once I agreed. And you know it as well as I do."
Shoulders lifted in a shrug,
hands raised slightly. "But I would let you back out of this if you..."
"No tricks, mazoku." the
priest said sharply. "I won't let you trick me out of my eyes.
You have him until you leave that room or the sun rises, whichever comes first."
"Maa, maa, that wasn't
in the...!"
"Those are my conditions."
"Sou ka." the mazoku
said, voice indicating his annoyance. "I'm not some minor underling,
you know. Those of us on the upper levels don't need to play the same
silly games as..."
"Mazoku are mazoku." the
priest said sharply. "And those of you on the upper levels need to be
watched even more closely and can be trusted even less."
The mazoku laughed.
"I suppose so. The same could be said of humans, neh?"
The words were pointed; the
priest flinched.
"Dragons, too. They
lie worse than anyone else. Have you had much dealings with them?" the
mazoku continued, pretending to be oblivious to the priest's reaction, aside
from allowing his smile to widen because he knew the blind priest could not
see it.
"That's his room."
the priest said, his voice very calm despite the feelings behind his words
and thoughts. The rings jangled as he pointed with the staff.
"As soon as you pass those doors, the deal is finalized."
"But of course. See
you in the morning!" the mazoku said cheerfully.
Ahh, how this puppet danced!
***
The boy was sitting quietly
at his desk, intently studying. The mazoku was reminded of the priest--not
simply for the physical similarities, but there was also an intensity there
was well. The boy had not even noticed when the mazoku had entered the
room.
The mazoku shut the door
loudly and cleared his throat to get the child's attention.
The boy looked up with a
start and blinked. Such pretty eyes. The mazoku wondered if perhaps
the priest's eyes would be the same color. The boy looked a little startled,
which was to be expected. "Umm...c-can I help you, sir?" he said politely,
looking confused. But he had tensed, and somehow grew very still even
though he moved. It was not the lack of motion, but a quality to the
boy--very much like an animal that has decided to freeze rather than flee.
"This your room?" the mazoku
said with a smile.
The boy nodded, eyes still
very wide. The mazoku wondered what he saw with such wide eyes.
Something enough so he sat very still in his chair, almost like a thing of
stone.
And then the boy spoke.
"Yes, sir."
The mazoku kept his smile,
and walked over to the boy. "What are you doing?"
The boy seemed to relax slowly,
as though deciding the mazoku was not a threat. The thought only made
the mazoku's smile brighten, which seemed to relax the boy more. The
boy looked at his work for a minute before turning back to the mazoku.
"Work one of my teachers asked me to do."
The mazoku leaned in to look
at the work, close enough so his cheek brushed the child's. And to his
delight, the child tensed again. But no need to scare him just yet,
and so he straightened up. "Astronomy? Or astrology?"
"B-both, sir. Although
I like the astronomy part better. I like the stuff that's concrete.
The stars don't tell us our fate, after all. Just us." As he spoke,
the boy's hands tightened around the hem of his shirt, twisting it slightly
in his hands. It seemed a nervous gesture. The mazoku looked at
the small hands--the boy's hands were like the boy himself, long and slender,
and surprising delicate for his age and gender--like his hands, he still looked
almost too pretty to be a boy. And as the boy grew aware of the mazoku's
attention to his hands, he dropped his shirt abruptly and picked up his pen.
The mazoku laughed and patted
the boy's back, but left his hand resting against the boy's neck, where it
joined his back, fingers curving slightly around the graceful collarbones.
Such soft skin. Too soft for a boy. And he could feel the boy's
pulse under his fingertips. Feel it quicken. And feel the boy's
breathing change as well--faint, but... The boy was on edge again.
Fear. Prey. Let him feel hunted. Good.
"You are a pragmatic one.
A lot like your grandfather."
"I...I...Thank you, s-sir."
The mazoku stood where he
was, not moving, his hand still on the boy's neck. Only now, he let
a fingertip trace the boy's hairline. The boy's hair was very thick,
and soft, where it grew out. He could hear the boy sharply inhale and
grow very still again with that same tenseness as he had had when the mazoku
had entered the room. Only now, it was more palpable. The boy's
nervousness permeated him and everything around him. His eyes seemed
to dart around nervously, even though the rest of him was still, so very still,
under the mazoku's single fingertip. And he was biting his lip.
Just barely; almost more of a hint of biting his lip than doing it--an inner
corner of his lip tucked between his canines. And a faint tremor--so
faint--in the boy's long, slim fingers.
"What else have you got there?"
"A...a...a little...little
alchemy. I just finished that. And some history. Then I
have to go to bed." The boy's voice almost cracked, and there was a
faint hint of desperation in the voice. "I..I mea...I have to go to
sleep...because...because I have to be up early. For my lessons.
In the morning." The boy threw the mazoku a widely desperate look.
"Yes, yes, you must finish
up your work. Do you need any help with it? I'm quite good at
history."
"I...I'm all right with it,
thank you."
"Well, if you change your
mind..." The mazoku traced another slight pattern on the boy's neck
and felt the boy shiver at the feeling, then took his hand away. The
boy seemed to relax the instant the hand was gone, but he was far from relaxed--he
was still the cornered animal, freezing so it would not be seen, but every
muscle tensed to flee.
The mazoku walked away from
the boy and laid on the boy's bed, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling
and tunelessly whistling. The boy stared at him, seeming to be trying
to decide whether or not to speak. Uncertainty was all about the boy,
adding a different kind of tenseness than had been there before. He
turned back to his work after a long moment, but it was obvious he was unable
to concentrate; the mazoku knew that every other moment the boy's eyes were
flicking to him; to the bed. And although the boy was still, his muscles
were moving beneath his skin.
The boy's quill pen snapped.
"Sir...is there...I mean...why are you...um...I..."
"I'm just waiting until you
finish your work. I was going to check it for you."
The boy frowned, blinking
again. The mazoku smiled again. "But...can't you...I mean...well...why
are you in here?"
"I'm waiting for you to finish
your work so I can look over it for you."
"But...I mean, thank you,
but..."
"No, don't thank me.
Just finish your work." And the mazoku began to hum again.
The boy's mouth snapped shut.
And he sat, frowning, in his chair, a living statue. But for the play
of muscles--muscles still but not. So frightened. So confused.
So beautiful.
"I'm done." the boy said
a little too loudly. The mazoku knew the words must have rung in the
boy's ears; he saw the boy startled somewhat at his own words.
"Ahh, that's good." the mazoku
said, jumping up and walking to the boy, smiling. "So let's take a look.
Your grandfather told me once you were a smart lad. From what I remember,
you had quite an appetite for learning. Very rare in a boy your age."
The boy said nothing.
Just watched the mazoku with round eyes. Eyes that never once left him.
So the mazoku simply smiled at the boy. The boy did not smile back.
The mazoku turned to look
at the boy's work. And he put his hand on the boy's neck again.
And he stood very close, his hip brushing against the boy's shoulder.
The boy's eyes were fixed on the paper the mazoku looked at, and yet the mazoku
knew the boy was acutely aware of every move he made.
"Ah! I found a mistake!"
the mazoku said, pointing with his free hand. "See this? You've
missed this one."
The boy looked where the
mazoku pointed, and frowned. "I...I did?"
The mazoku nodded.
And leaned in closer as he pointed again, his cheek almost against the boy's.
Almost. "See here?"
The boy stared for a moment,
still trying to drag his thoughts into the coherencies of history. Then
the boy let out a small "Oh!" as he saw the place the error the mazoku was
pointing to. He turned his face to the mazoku and startled at how close
their faces were; startled at how his lips nearly brushed the mazoku's cheek.
"I...I...ah...thank you."
the boy finally said, ducking his head sharply as he turned it forward; cheeks
reddening to a delicate pink as he grew tense again. His hands dropped
again to his lap and tightened around his shirt, twisting it again in his
hands.
"Aren't you going to correct
it?"
The boy startled again.
"I...I broke my pen. But..."
The mazoku smiled.
"Well, that's easily mended." he said, picking up the broken pen and fixing
it.
The boy's eyes widened.
"You know magic?" Then he smiled to himself. "Of course.
That's why you were meeting with Grandfather, right?"
The mazoku nodded, his face
again very close to the boy's. "That was one reason, yes." He
handed the pen to the boy and the boy took it. But the mazoku held on
for a moment, to allow his hands to brush the boy's. The boy's eyes
widened again, and he seemed to shrink into himself. The mazoku was
close enough to see the boy was sweating nervously and his hands again had
a faint tremor. But the boy said nothing, only dipped the pen into his
inkwell and quickly corrected his errors. But his hand shook; his writing
was not steady, and on the last word, the fine quill tip snapped again.
The boy let out a slight wail that was halfway to a moan, and the mazoku patted
him on the shoulder.
"Don't worry about it. You
were finished anyway." he said, and let his fingertips trail along the boy's
neck again. The boy inhaled sharply, going very still and very tense.
"I...I've finished my work,
sir." the boy said very carefully, each word spoken slowly to keep it from
shaking. He also kept his eyes straight ahead. "Is there anything
else?"
The mazoku smiled.
"Yes. As a matter of fact, there is." The mazoku's hand tightened
against the boy's neck, and the boy left out a sharp breath, tensing further.
The mazoku pulled the boy out of his chair, and pushed him onto the bed.
And as he leaned over the
boy, his smile widened, and his eyes opened.
"And you know it as well
as I."
The boy's eyes went very
wide as he saw the mazoku's eyes, and for a moment, he struggled. Then
abruptly, the boy abandoned his fight and went limp, and there was a strong
resolution within him. And as this happened, a truth floored the mazoku.
This boy has been attacked
before. And more than once.
The mazoku pulled back in
surprise. Well, this wouldn't do at all. The boy wasn't even afraid
anymore...not much, anyway; not enough to reach the levels of terror the mazoku
had been expecting. There was something almost placid about the boy
now--he acted as though he knew if he just closed his eyes and waited, it
would be over soon. Where was the use in that? He had intended
to scare the boy--make him scream a few times, make it sound as if the boy
was being badly used and certain to almost be killed--and see if the priest
would come or not to save him. But there was no fight from the child,
only a sort of internal deadening as he began to hide within himself.
The boy would not cry or scream out, he knew.
This would *not* do at *all*.
The boy was surprised when
the mazoku pulled back and let him go. There was a faint foreboding
about the boy; a confusion because what he expected was not what happened.
"Well, boy...seems I'm not
the first to show up in your room in the middle of the night, am I ?"
"No." the boy said simply,
sitting up.
"Who?"
The boy hesitated, and his
hands shook again. "I--I'm not supposed...I mean...I...Father said..."
The boy stumbled over his words, and then suddenly let lose a torrent of tears.
"Why won't you all just leave me alone?"
The outburst calmed almost
instantly into hiccupping sobs, which quieted to nothing as quickly as they
had started, before they could go further. This was not a child for
whom emotional outbursts of sorts were the norm, and the mazoku had no doubt
that the boy let loose and cried as he had for that split second very rarely.
But the boy's eyes pleaded with him in some way, and somehow--somehow despite
himself, the mazoku was moved by the child's pleading eyes.
Mazoku he was, but monster
he was not.
"Maa, maa, this is
unexpected." the mazoku said. He reached over and took the boy's face
in his hand, tightening almost painfully on the boy's chin. The boy
didn't flinch or move, just waited, a veiled look suddenly covering his eyes.
"Listen to me. You are weak. Until you're no longer weak, you
can't stop what happens to you. But if you are strong, then no one can
hurt you like this again."
Something sparked in the
boy's eyes. He didn't move or try to pull away. "Sir..." he said
in a trembling voice. "How do I get strong?" His eyes latched
onto the mazoku's. "I don't want...not aga...I want to be strong.
I don't want to be weak anymore. I...how? How do I get strong?
I...I can't stop you. I can't. But...but just tell me that so
one day...so...I...so that one day...no one will...I..."
The mazoku abruptly let got
of the boy's face, stunned again this night, his smile faltering, and his
eyes opening again. "Asking a mazoku for things is not something you
want to do, boy. Especially for something like that. I won't answer
that like this. I should, but I won't. But...maybe you should
ask your grandfather. After all, he is very strong. Ask him to
make you stronger. I'm sure he will."
"Does...does he know you're
here?"
"Yes." the mazoku said.
And he smiled, closing his eyes. Ahh. Yes. This *would*
do.
The boy's lip quivered and
his large eyes filled with tears. "He...he...he...does he know...he...what
you were...he...?"
The mazoku smiled.
This might do quite nicely, since his other plan was obviously going to accomplish
nothing at all. "Oh, he knows."
Well, he would give the boy
credit. He didn't burst into tears. Instead, he just sat there,
eyes wide, shaking. "He...he...gr-grandfather...he..."
"You were a trade, you see,"
the mazoku continued. "In exchange for you, for a night, I would tell
him how he could see."
"He...he was...he..." the
boy whispered. Now the boy couldn't help it. Two tears, one from
each eye, overflowed and ran down his pale cheeks. Suddenly the boy
angrily wiped the tears away. "I...I don't believe you!"
The mazoku smiled.
"You don't? Why ever not?"
"I...I...he wouldn't...I...I
just don't! Grandfather! Grandfather! GRANDFATHER!!" the
boy yelled, jumping up and running to the door and banging his fists against
it. "GRANDFATHER! I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!!! GRANDFATHER!!!
Help me! Grandfather! Why won't you come? NO!!!
DON'T YOU TOUCH ME!! GET AWAY FROM ME!!! DON'T TOUCH ME!!!!" he
screamed when the mazoku laid a hand on his shoulder. "NO!!! GRANDFATHEEEEEEEER!!!
GRANDFATHER!!!!!"
The boy continued to scream
and bang on the locked door, his voice taking on a tone of hysteria.
The mazoku watched with a faint smile, knowing that the priest was standing
outside the door. And he had no doubt the child knew it as well.
And if he didn't, well...
The mazoku shrugged.
"Scream all you like, he's not coming. You should know that he's right
outside the door, listening to you scream."
Tears began to run down the
child face in a torrent at that, and he began to bang on the door louder and
scream more. "GRANDFATHEEEEEEER!!! GRANDFATHEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRR!
No!!! GET AWAY FROM ME!!! NOOOO!!!!!" he yelled when the mazoku went
to physically pick up the boy and move him away from the door. "NO!!
LET ME GO!!! PLEASE!!! DON'T...DON'T!!! I DON'T...GRANDFATHER!!!!!
HELP ME!!!!!!!!!"
The mazoku let the boy go.
"Fine, fine, scream out your lungs a little longer. But he won't come."
He let the boy scream a little longer, then went over to the boy and pulled
him away from the door forcefully and covered his mouth, muffling the boy's
screams. He knew what that would sound like to the priest, and it was
easy to ignore the boy's weak kicks and punches.
Although the boy did get
in a good bite. A sudden clamping against the boy's mouth in a hard
and painful way assured both that the boy wouldn't try it again and that the
priest got to hear the boy let out of a cry of pain, as well as hearing the
sounds of the boy struggling. When enough time had passed with the boy's
cries muffled, the mazoku smiled, let out a gentle, "Gomen, neh?" and
carefully shifted his hand over the child's mouth and nose so he couldn't
breathe. The boy panicked and fought all the harder, but his movements
and cries grew weaker and weaker, and soon the child passed out. As
soon as he had, the mazoku let the boy go--after all, killing the boy would
do him no good, and very likely might undo everything he was trying to do
with the priest, the priest's own words notwithstanding--and laid the unconscious
child on the bed.
The child immediately started
breathing again with a loud gasp, but did not awaken. There. Now
there would be nothing but silence, after a long struggle and then that loud
tortured gasp, for the priest to have heard. While he waited for the
boy to wake up, the mazoku amused himself by looking around and seeing the
things the child had collected, then he settled himself to the task of correcting
the boy's homework.
The mazoku had just finished
correcting the math when the boy regained consciousness. When the boy
did, and got his wits back together, he jumped out of the bed and ran as best
he could on shaking legs to the door again, coughing and choking. But
he was exhausted--he rapped at the door once feebly; let out a final "Grandfather!"
before his voice gave out. He gave one final knock at the door before
he collapsed.
"Grandfather..." he whispered
sadly with no voice left.
"Isn't coming." the mazoku
said cheerfully, getting up from the child's desk. "Ahh, it's like I
expected." He walked over to the exhausted boy and picked him up.
The boy tensed and the mazoku shook his head. "You have nothing to fear
from me anymore. I've done all I came to do. So, let's put you
to bed and have you stay there this time, all right? It's late for little
boys to be up, neh? And you have had a rather rough night.
You should sleep."
The boy let out a faint,
hiccupping sob. Before the mazoku could carry the boy to his bed, the
boy's exhaustion took over and the boy fell asleep, his head against the mazoku's
chest, hands grasping the mazoku's shirt in a way that was almost like a young
infant's, seeking some sort of comfort in touch.
"Well. Children can
fall asleep anywhere." the mazoku chuckled to himself, before laying the boy
on his bed and tucking him in. He then dried the boy's face, drying
the tears that still clung to his eyelashes and cheeks; the sweat that still
trickled down his forehead. "Hmm. I suppose things are too nice
and tidy now, aren't they?
"Things were pretty mild,
all things considered. I will have to do something about that."
The mazoku's eyes opened, and he smiled.
***
The mazoku:
How very distasteful.
I had not expected this. I did not foresee at all, when I made this
agreement, that one of my marionettes had a broken string. I should
have seen it, I should have known it from the moment I saw him. But
I was too preoccupied with his grandfather, and the boy wasn't around much.
But looking back, I should have known. His past was all but screaming
out for anyone with eyes to see it.
And I certainly should have
known when I came in the room. After all, his reactions, looking back,
showed very clearly that he knew what was coming. The marionette didn't
dance the right way. His terror had not been the terror of an innocent--it
was the reaction of someone who knew what was going to happen and who knew
they were powerless to stop it. That was why when I pulled on the string,
he hadn't given any more than a rudimentary fight before acquiescing, and
I believe that was more shock that I was a mazoku than that I was attacking
him. He hadn't cried out. There was only a baseline of panic;
not near the level of someone being attacked for the first time...or even
the second or third. I should have seen, *that,* neh?
The boy had been had used
far more than once by force. But I did not foresee how young he had
been when it started. Maa, maa, you can't say I should have seen
*that*.
It's no wonder, then, that he adores
his grandfather as he does. In his mind, his grandfather saved him.
But look what has happened
now.
I am mazoku. Lover
of chaos and destruction; of pain and sorrow. But this...this surprises
even me. And you humans call *us* the demon race. At least we're
open about what we are. You love the shadows far more than we do.
Ahh, but no need to dwell
on such things. As far as I am concerned, things are working out quite
well. When the boy awakens, he won't know up from down or left from
right. The red priest is in quite a state right now. And the one
thing he wanted most--even more right now than his eyes--I won't let him have.
I won't give him the boy's hate. He'll have to earn that himself.
But this boy...this won't
be the end. I will find him again. So he can't remember me.
Not then, not at first. In time, yes. But because he has to believe
what he thinks happened--what he had expected to happen--to have happened,
I know he will never listen to what I have to say when I find him next if
he remembers me.
He must believe what his
mind has filled in, because that priest has to believe it as well. For
what I have to do here, I can't run the risk of the priest discovering otherwise.
But if he remembers *me*, well, there'll be no chance of him listening to
me or wishing to have anything to do with me after this. He can not
know who and what I am or associate me with what he thinks happened.
I will have something to offer him, and he will have to be willing to listen,
which he won't be if I leave my face in his mind.
What I offer him is not much,
but it is something he will want to know and something that will be owed to
him, but something he could not possibly handle now--even I am not that cruel.
I will offer him the truth.
When he's ready.
***
The mazoku walked out of
the room when the sun rose, and the priest was waiting for him.
"He's sleeping quite soundly.
So we should be quiet, neh? Wouldn't want to wake him. I rather
tired the boy out."
The priest's face changed
only slightly; only a tightening at his mouth displayed anything.
"I fulfilled my half of the
bargain. Give me my sight."
The mazoku shrugged.
"I can't do that. But I will tell you how to unbind your eyes."
"Tell me. Tell me now!"
"Still so impatient!
But here it is. The reason you have never been unable to unseal your
eyes is because within you, sealed in your eyes, is Ruby-Eyed Shabranigidou."
the mazoku said, and gave the priest a scroll. "This spell tells how
to raise the Dark Lord. You must find the ingredients yourself, though.
I can't give you everything."
The priest looked stunned.
"Raise the Dark Lord? You want me to raise *Ruby-Eyed Shabranigidou*?
And *that* will unseal my eyes?"
"Yes. Hmm. I
wonder if your eyes will be the same color as your grandson's? Wouldn't
that be ironic?"
The priest didn't answer.
But his mouth tightened more. And the mazoku's smile widened.
"Well, looks like our business
is complete, so I'll be taking my leave." the mazoku said with a smile and
a bow. Then he vanished, but his voice still remained.
"...Oh, and I took a few
liberties. With the boy's mind, I mean. He's not going to remember...much...of
what happened. How much he remembers depends on how strong his mind
is. He might not even remember that you that wouldn't come to save him.
He called out for you the whole time, you know. So it seemed a little
too cruel to leave him with memories of *everything*, given how much the boy
loves you. No need for you to lose that love, neh? "
The mazoku's voice faded,
and the priest's hands began to shake.
***
The mazoku:
So, I have collected one
more secret. I wonder if the time will ever come to tell it...when the
time will come to find this boy again.
Because I will find him again.
And I will observe him. And one day, pose to him a similar question
as I did his grandfather. What I tell him then will depend on what he
says. And if he is like the red priest...ahh, we shall see, won't we?
But for now, I shall wait.
What you do...saa,
that's *your* concern.
*** *** *** ***
desu ka
matawa
*** *** *** ***
sore wa
*** *** *** ***
Touitsu
Unification
The chimera:
Long ago, when I was a child,
I dreamed of him. I dreamed of what my father must be like. Or
grandfather. He said grandfather; my mother had always told me father.
And she had always been so insistent, saying they had been my real mother's
last words before she died.
No matter. I dreamed
of him.
I dreamed of him every night.
I dreamed the wonderful red
priest would come to save me. I dreamed that he would take me away to
a place where I could sleep without fear of the door cracking open in the
night, a place where I wouldn't have to worry that I was going to be hit or
see my mother crying trying to protect me.
I never wondered why my real
mother had fled. Why she had hidden. I never *thought* at all.
I only dreamed.
And one day, I woke up.
***
...deneppah...tahw...
***
The boy woke up sobbing.
He sat up and looked at his hands, and saw they shook. He clasped them
together, trying to stop them from moving, and only then was aware of the
fact that his entire body was shaking.
His throat hurt. He
wasn't sure why. And something felt wrong. In his head.
Jumbled. Things felt all backwards and forwards. Not right.
He sat with his head in his hands, trying to clear his mind out and try to
put the sounds and images into something he could recognize. He had
no idea how much time was passing, or if time was truly passing at all. The
boy only listened to his heart beat and fought off his confused panic.
And slowly, things began to right themselves somehow. Things began to
make sense again, and he wondered if he had just had a very bad dream.
Then he suddenly realized
he could not remember anything--*anything*--of the night before. His
last memory was of going to his room to study, and then nothing. He
strained for a bit, and still...noth...
The boy's eyes flew open
and he raised his shaking hands to his mouth.
Nothing except for the
memory of the door closing. Looking up and seeing a shape...someone...it
was...
Nothing.
And then
If you are strong, then no one can hurt you like this again.
And he hurt. He hurt
in a way he had not hurt in a long time.
And then
Oh, he knows.
And then
You were a trade, you see.
And then
Mazoku eyes.
And then
Scream all you like.
And then
He's not coming.
And the boy hurt.
***
The boy walked out of his
room slowly, feeling numbed somehow. Part of him knew it was better
to feel numb than feel. Numbness was what got you through everything.
When you were numb, you didn't have to feel. If he could stay numb,
he would be all right.
"Eh, boy."
The boy looked up, startled
slightly.
"Why are you just standing
there? Your food will grow cold." the servant said, not completely unkindly.
The boy looked at him with blank eyes, then blinked a few times.
"Oh. Food. Yes,
I should eat." he boy said.
"Eh, you all right?"
"I'm fine." he said by reflex.
He was fine. Everything was numb. A safe numbness. A safe
numbness where there was no pain. Safe.
"No, you aren't."
The boy blinked again.
And then he opened his mouth and lied. Lied as he had lied for a long
time, in what had been a lifetime ago. Lies he didn't think he would
tell again. Not here. Not in this place. "I just didn't
sleep well. I had a bad dream, and couldn't go back to sleep."
"Oh? What about?" the
servant said, crossing his arms. The priest's grandson was normally
a cheerful lad, and he couldn't imagine what would be so bad as to leave him
looking so dazed. But he did have something of a sleepless look about
him--the boy had to have had a rough night to look as he did.
The same lie from that other
lifetime came to the boy's lips. But it twisted there for a minute,
shockingly bitter in his mouth. It was the same lie he would tell his
grandfather when his grandfather would ask him why he cried out at night.
The same lie. But it stung him out of his numbness.
"That there was a mazoku
in my room." the boy said.
The servant smiled.
"Yes, that is something to have a nightmare about. But don't you worry
about them. After all, your grandfather will always protect you against
them!"
Numb.
He's not coming.
"I know."
the boy said.
Numb.
You were a trade, you see.
And then
the boy smiled.
Numb.
Scream all you like.
And then
the boy walked away.
"Good morning." the priest
said when the boy sat down across from him.
"Good morning." the boy said.
"Did you sleep well?" the
priest asked.
"Yes." the boy said.
"You?"
"Yes." the priest said.
"That's good." The
boy looked at his food and felt nauseous. He pushed it away and reached
instead for a cup of tea. He sipped it slowly as the priest ate.
"You're not eating."
"I'm not hungry."
The boy watched the priest.
He wanted to see if there was something there. Anything. He knew
that the priest was lying. And he knew the priest knew he was lying.
And if they both were lying, then the fragments the boy remembered had to
be the truth. But the priest didn't act like there was this secret truth
hanging over them. The priest simply ate his breakfast. And the
boy sipped his tea.
In silence.
"Grandfather?"
He's not coming.
"Yes?"
"Will you make me stronger?"
"Stronger?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
But if you are strong, then no one can hurt you like this
again.
"Because I'm not. And
I want to be one day."
"Why?"
Scream all you like.
Silence.
And in the silence, the boy
wept silent tears.
And in the silence, the boy
looked at the priest, and saw mazoku eyes.
The priest ate.
The boy wept.
In silence.
***
The boy:
Grandfather, Grandfather...is
this true? It can't be, it just can't....did you...Grandfather... why?
To see? Just so you could *see*? Do I mean so little? Am
I worth so little to you? If you had asked me, I would have told you
to do it; I would have, I wouldn't have hesitated, for you...but...but you
didn't ask, you didn't care...all you had to do was ask...
The tears won't stop, grandfather...these
tears won't stop. Why won't you help me? Why don't you notice?
Why? Why won't you...why didn't you?
Why?
***
He ran through the woods,
no thoughts, no words in his mind, for there were none that could express
his grief. For the boy grieved. He grieved, although he did not
know that it was that that he did. He knew only that something hurt
deeply within him, and he felt as he had when his mother--when the woman who
had raised him--had died. And so he knew this despair, and knew that
this was the truth of the world: that there was only this pain, and anything
else was but a respite that would be taken away; given only to increase this
pain.
And so the boy grieved.
Grieved for his loss of innocence, although he did not know that that was
what it was. He grieved for his dreams shattered; he grieved for this
knowledge he had gained.
And so the boy wept.
And when he had cried himself
out, when the tears could no longer contain what he felt because tears were
too gentle, he raged his grief. He raged that he had been forced to
learn this. He raged that his dreams had been shattered. He raged
that his life had been as it had; that he had suffered as he had. He
raged that he had been seen as worth so little; that he had been and was only
an ends of some sort, unimportant enough to warrant thought as to his feelings.
He raged.
He raged, because if he did
not rage, he would die. That he would take the only power he knew he
had--the power to no longer exist--and show the world that it was the one
thing he could do and that they could not force him not to do. And in
his heart, in his mind in a place he was unable to fathom, he knew that this
was why he raged. He knew that if he did not rage--that if he succumbed
to his tears once more--he would die. And the boy swore that he would
never cry like this again. He would rage if he needed. But he
would never cry.
And when his grandfather
had come after him when the sun was setting into night, the boy had turned
his rage that was grief on him.
"Make me strong!" the boy
yelled. "Make me strong! You told me once you would protect me.
Make me strong! Keep your promise that way, since you can't do it any
other way! You've never taught me anything! So do it now!
Make me strong!"
And in his voice, underneath
the rage, there was a pleading tone; a begging from the part of him that remained
a child throughout everything, a begging to show him that there was something
good within this world, something to show he was of enough worth to be loved
and not simply used; the child part of him that was dying and desperately
needed a simply word or gesture to continue to live and trust.
He didn't need much. He only
needed his grandfather to see beyond the hate and see how much he needed him...he
only needed to be shown...he needed...
"You want me to make you
strong?" the priest said, frowning. And then a smile touched his lips,
and somehow, the boy's heart lifted. The child in him rejoiced with
the hope that seemed to surge from nonexistence within him.
And then something changed;
the priest's smile became something else, and the boy knew that something
had gone very wrong.
"You want to be strong?
Very well...I will make you strong."
And the priest raised his
hand.
And for the boy, there was
trust before the darkness, a hint of a smile before the nothingness; in his
heart, a cry of hopeful joy that somehow, things would turn out all right
because only someone who loved him could smile for him like that; in his eyes,
tears because he had faith that the wonderful priest would make everything
better and save him as he had once in what was for the boy a lifetime ago.
And then came the darkness.
And in the darkness, a scream.
Scream all you like.
And a whisper.
You were a trade, you see.
And a truth.
He's not coming.
And a hurt.
But if you are strong
And when the boy next awoke
and saw what had been done to him, the boy knew then that he could not even
rage. And now, as he looked at his stone skin, he knew he could not even
kill himself.
He could not hope. Hope
was a cruel emotion he could no longer allow himself. He would expect
nothing but this pain. He couldn't allow himself anything but the bleak
emptiness and despair he felt now.
That, and the pained hatred
over his grandfather's betrayal--both of his body and his childish dreams--that
flared like molten lava within him.
Because for him, there was
nothing else.
***
The chimera the boy became:
I know he was there the night
the mazoku came, and I know he could hear me. I knew because when I
first came, at night, I would cry out, and he would come. Whenever I
cried out, he came. I don't know why I did; I suppose it was nightmare--once
I was in a place where I had nothing to fear, I was suddenly afraid that the
dream would burst, and I would be back where I had been before. And
so at night, I would cry out for him. Because I needed to know he was there.
Because I needed to know the nightmare was a nightmare and not real.
Because I needed to know I was safe. I needed to know he was there.
Because he wouldn't hurt me. I always believed that. I believed
it until I learned otherwise. I believed it until my dream exploded, and found
I was living a nightmare from which I would never awaken and from which the
'wonderful red priest' would never save me.
But even though he had cursed
me...it was a gift, wasn't it? As much as I hated it...as much as I
hated it, part of me knows...part of me knows that I don't want to be cured;
that as much as looking for a cure drives me, I'm not really looking, am I?
Part of me doesn't want it...I don't want it because now I'm safe. The
part of me that is still that boy who cries silently in the night is finally
safe. People look at me with hatred and disgust and I hate it...but...but
they no longer look at me any other way. No one touches me.
...no one wants to touch me...
And I'm...I'm safe. I'm
safe, aren't I? That's why you did it, right? It wasn't just because
you hate me, right? Right? You...you helped me, right? I'm
safe now, aren't I?
Grandfather?
*** *** *** ***
desu ka
Epilogue:
Saigo no deai
[Encounter the Last]
"There are things," the
mazoku said, "that you should know."
The chimera said nothing
for a long moment, letting the hate in his eyes speak for him. Finally:
"What? Say what you came to say then get out of my sight. I never
want to see you again."
"Maa, maa, so rude."
The blaze of hate was like
nectar. The mazoku's smile widened ever so slightly. "I just came
to offer the same thing I did to your grandfather."
"I don't have any grandchildren
to pimp." the chimera snarled. "Not that I ever will," he ended bitterly.
"Oh, I wouldn't be sure of
that," the mazoku said, his eyes glancing over to the door of the inn where
a princess--one still very young, but not as young as she had once been; one
whose blue eyes had not changed--had entered. Even though she was veiled
for her travels, she could not hide her eyes. He saw as her eyes landed
on them and she faltered slightly, then quickly took a seat far from them.
Her eyes did not leave them, and he knew that they would not.
He turned his attention back
to the chimera, who had noticed none of this in his hatred. And he smiled.
"But do you think you wouldn't? Really? To have your cure...do
you really think, ten, twenty, thirty years down the line, you would still
say 'no'? That you wouldn't give up something--someone--precious to
you?" The mazoku glanced for a brief moment had the disguised princess,
then continued after letting his words sink in. "But that's not why
I'm here. When I approached the red priest for the first time, you didn't
even exist. Your mother didn't even exist. Such a good lad, really.
It was such a waste, him being so good for so long. Ahh, well.
He almost resurrected the dark lord."
"Get to your point.
You're making me ill just looking at you."
"I know. Why do you
think I'm taking so long?"
There was a pregnant silence
before it birthed stillborn words.
"Get out."
"Not yet. But I'll
deliver my message and go. Sometimes, the mazoku tell a few of our himitsu...and
when they do, they are shinjitsu. It is because of that that
we tell them so infrequently. It's rather bad for our image..."
"Did you think I would never
remember it was *you*? Did you think that the memories wouldn't one
day come back? Of what really happened? What finally released
the seal on my memories?" the chimera snarled, his entire body tense.
The mazoku raised his hands
and shrugged. "Only time. You're too strong for a permanent block.
But." The mazoku opened his eyes, and they met those of the chimera.
"You still don't know the truth of that night. You haven't broken the
whole seal. You've only cracked it open. The truth and the illusion
I had to create are still bound together. And one day, when you are
ready...I will tell you many things. I will tell you all of what happened.
I made a promise to myself that I would. And perhaps I will tell you
your cure as well.
"But for now, I will say
this--memories can be constructed around memories and then again around memories.
I didn't touch you that night, my dear little chimera, aside from carrying
you to your bed when you wore yourself out screaming for the grandfather who
never came. Well, that and suffocating you a bit, but that didn't do
you any harm, because I didn't intend it to. Everything you think happened,
everything you felt when you woke the next morning--those were built upon
your own memories of things that happened long before then. What need
did I have to do anything, when your own mind filled in gaps as it saw fit
for me?"
Another long silence.
"Maa...ja ne," the
mazoku said with a smile and a bow. "You asked me once, a long time
ago, how to get strong. You didn't know what you were asking or who.
But now...well. Think about what I've said, and when you are ready..."
his eyes opened, "we will talk again.
"Neh?"
Within the eternal winds of fate.