.
.
"If I were a hafuri, I think I'd be a shield. I was a pot lid, after all."
Kazuma stops scrubbing. The sleeves of his shirt, which are rolled up past his elbows, are damp, and the bucket of water he had been sloshing through is now rust-colored.
"You're not real," Kazuma says. Touma smiles at him.
"You still answered," Touma says.
Kazuma ignores her and goes back scrubbing the blood.
"I knew when you were named that you were an ill-omen." The elder is standing just outside the periphery of his vision. He can see the long folds of her kimono trailing in the shadows. "Penetrating our master's body. A thorn in our master's side," the elder says, and Kazuma scrubs harder. "Having the audacity to think you were anything more than a worthless nail."
"I never said I worth anything," Kazuma says. He stares hard at the streak of blood on the wooden panel, his hands tightening into fists as the water from the sponge seeps into the floorboards.
"Do you ever wonder, child, who it was that stung her?"
"It doesn't matter," Kazuma says. He doesn't look at her. The elder smiles.
"I was Bishamonten's guide. Nothing escapes my eyes. You've thought about this, haven't you? How your little friend was jealous of you-"
"Touma wasn't jealous," Kazuma says. He glares at the floorboards. "She was happy for me-"
"She was a pot lid and you were a nail, and yet you fail to see the root of her jealousy. She stung her," the guide said. Her old voice edged with a satisfied smile. "She stung her and you were the one to blame-"
"No!" Kazuma says, and he knocks over the bucket of water.
There's no one in the room right now.
"Maybe you shouldn't have gotten so close to Ane-sama," Tsuguha says.
Kazuma whirls around and sees Tsuguha standing at the corner of the room. "Maybe if you'd paid more attention, I would still have my head."
"I was saving Veena's life," Kazuma says. "You were strangling her. You turned into a phantom-"
"And whose fault was it that I turned into a phantom?"
He thinks of that day at Iki Hiyori's school, and how the sorcerer had snuck up behind them.
"How could I have known?" Kazuma says. "It was something I never anticipated." At his shoulder, the elder smiles at him.
"You let the girl die because of your inattention."
"No," Kazuma says, softly. He shakes his head. "No, that's not what happened, no-"
"It was your fault," Touma says. Beside her, Tsuguha steps forward.
"It's just like before. It was your fault."
"Your fault," they say, chanting. They surround him, coming closer. "Your fault. Your fault. Your-"
"It is all right," Veena says, softly, and Kazuma knows he is hallucinating. She's standing in front of him, wearing that pale shift she likes and bathed in a soft white light.
"Veena I'm sorry," Kazuma says, hoarsely. "I'm trying so hard but I'm making all these mistakes."
"You should rest," Veena says. She smiles down at him benevolently. "Even while I am unconscious, I can feel your suffering."
"What?" A quiet horror dawns on him. Veena smiles.
"Yes," Veena says, and a thin trickle of blood begins to drip down the side of her temple. "Even now, you're still hurting me."
"No, Veena, wait-"
The trickle turns into a waterfall.
"I will always forgive you," Veena says, and she collapses on the ground.
"Veena!" Kazuma runs toward her, hoisting her against his chest. "Veena! Veena! Veena-"
"Who is Veena?" a little girl asks.
Kazuma opens his eyes.
.
xXx
The spell Iwami gives him is intricate, but not so complicated that Kazuma isn't able to master it fairly quickly. Of all the powers and abilities a shinki can possess, spellcasting is the only one in which Kazuma is decently proficient: it doesn't matter that he's half-blind and physically weak, or that his vessel form is useless as a weapon. All spellcasting needs is precision and concentration.
The knife he had slipped into his pocket is dull and rusted, but he still winces a little as he pricks the tip of the blade into his finger. Carefully, he paints a wet circle of blood across Kugaha's chest - a necessary step before the incantation - then picks up a roll of bandages. Kugaha is unconscious thanks to the same sleeping spell he used when he was trying to force Bishamon's succession, and Kazuma's mouth thins slightly at the irony.
"Kazuma-san." Kugaha's voice is thick and his eyes flutter open, the sleeping spell wearing off to reveal a rare moment of lucidity. "What are you doing to me?"
"Quiet," Kazuma says, and he pushes Kugaha's torso sideways, hefting him upwards to tug the bandage around his ribs. He mutters a quick spell to shut Kugaha up, since his being awake will mess with Kazuma's concentration, then watches satisfied as Kugaha flops back over.
The form of the snake begins to burn into his arm, and Kazuma breathes hard through his nose, the pain searing like a brand. Soon the skin bubbles then discolors, until the faint lines of the snake curl around his forearm like an arabesque.
He tosses another spell, a simple one meant for disguise, and steps back, silently taking stock of his handiwork: all at once, Kugaha's body seems to evaporate, heat waves of the concealment spell dissipating until it looks like Veena is the one lying on the bed. For a moment, Kazuma is reminded of the time after the massacre, but he pushes away the memory, shaking his head and pushing up his glasses. His forearm burns. His face is drawn as he tugs down the sleeve of his shirt.
He remembers the first time he learned that spell. Veena had walked into the library, lonely and bored and looking for her exemplar to talk to. "What's this?" she had asked. She leaned across the table where Kazuma was working, going over several old scrolls laid flat on the tabletop. Her hair brushed across the yellowed parchment as she reached one slender arm in front of him and plucked one of the scrolls he was reading. "A disguising spell?" Her nose wrinkled. "Why on earth would you need to know this?"
"If Nushi-sama needed me to infiltrate another group," Kazuma said. Carefully he took the scroll away from her, rolling it and tucking it into his sleeve. "I can use this to disguise my name. I can even masquerade as another god, if it pleases you."
"That seems dishonest," Veena said (although he didn't think of her as Veena back then). "I would rather fight head on than resort to guile and trickery."
Kazuma lowered his eyes. His hand, which had been resting on top of the parchment, clenched into a fist, and he felt his face flush with shame.
"Need I remind you, Nushi-sama, I cannot draw a proper borderline. Spellcasting is the only means I have with which to protect you."
Veena sniffed. "I would not be much of a war god if I needed you to protect me."
At the time, her words hurt him. They weren't close back then, and it isn't until several centuries later that Kazuma understands it was her way of making conversation. ("That's what I said?!" Veena had been horrified when he reminded her. "Kazuma! You know that wasn't what I meant!")
He smiles at the memory. But then Kugaha makes a gurgling noise, which snaps him out of his reverie.
"Hell's bells and useless spells," Kugaha says, sotto voce. "Our master's exemplar! Exemplary garbage!" The whole thing is disconcerting, because he looks like Veena but the voice still sounds like him.
"Why are you talking?" Kazuma says, irritated. "I already bound your names-"
Kugaha starts to laugh, and the concealment spell dissipates. Whatever enchantment the sorcerer has him under, it's undermining the power of Kazuma's invocations - that, or Kazuma's concentration is slipping, and he doesn't like to think of the implications. "She's always surrounded herself with useless garbage," Kugaha says. "I can see you're still no exception."
"Sleep," Kazuma snaps, and Kugaha droops forward.
It would be so easy to kill him now, prostrate and unconscious on the bed. Kugaha's breathing is shallow and his eyes roll side-to-side beneath closed eyelids. He's dreaming, Kazuma thinks, and his eyes track down to the pulse point on Kugaha's neck, which is beating imperceptibly. What is he dreaming of? He resists the urge to slash at his throat, even though every part of him wants nothing more than to see the spray of Kugaha's traitorous blood splashed across the clean white walls.
.
xXx
"Veena," Kazuma says, and he carefully opens the door to her chambers. "I'm here."
She doesn't answer, of course, but there's still a chance she could still hear him. He kneels beside her bed, gently stroking her forehead.
"I'm sorry I took so long," he says, softly. He tenderly fans his thumb across the skin of her brow, and she takes a breath, as if she could actually feel him. "I brought Kugaha. I'll have to move you."
His gaze lands onto a streak of dried blood, just behind the back of her ear. "I'm actually surprised at how easy it was," he says, and his voice breaks a little. He sniffs, then laughs quietly. "I used umbra to hide our names. The hardest part was carrying Kugaha into the compound."
If Veena were awake, she would laugh with him. Physical strength was never your strong suit, she'd say.
He grabs Kugaha by the armpits and bodily lugs him up, dropping his body heavily onto the bed. For a moment, it looks like two Veenas are sleeping next to each other, and the image is disorienting to him.
The real Veena is covered in a multitude of wounds, not the least of which is the large gash which scales down the meat of her back. Gingerly, Kazuma slips a hand beneath her knees and wraps his arm behind her torso, picking her up bridal-style and resting her weight against his chest. She moans softly, and Kazuma switches positions, moving her over his shoulder the way one would carry a heavy bag of flour, so that the pressure isn't against her wound.
Around him, shinki are talking. Kinuha is standing at the edge of the corridor, her face pinched and worried, as she speaks quietly to the others. With his name hidden, she doesn't see him; none of the other shinki do, and he passes by them unimpeded. Veena whimpers but he shushes her quietly.
He lays her onto the bed. Above them, moonlight filters through the bars of the window, making zebra stripes of shadows on the floor. Quietly, Kazuma lays a blanket over her body before gently clasping her hand in his.
"Veena," he says, softly. "When you wake up, I might not be your blessing anymore."
There are motes of dust floating in the moonlight, and he can see the wetness along her lashes, the soft swell of her bottom lip as she breathes.
"I'm going to ask Yato to make me a stray," Kazuma says. His grip around her hand tightens. "I know you won't like it. But I've been going over our options and this is the only way.
"The sorcerer is Yato's father. Did you know that, Veena? He's the one who wished Yato into existence. He's the reason Yato's survived this long.
"I know you won't abide by it. You're too kind. If you knew what would happen, you wouldn't want Yato to die, either.
"But we have no choice! I keep thinking about it, and going over it, and the only way we can end it is if Yato dies...and I die, too.
"I'm sorry," he says, and tears start streaming down his face. "I keep trying so hard but I'm always failing you."
He sobs quietly. His shoulders shake as he hunches over her, clasping her hand against his face.
"The elder once said my name was an ill omen. That no good can come from a shinki that hurts you. But you're so kind-" he blinks hard, fresh tears starting to spill, "-you've always been so kind. Kugaha once said you are happy to surround yourself with useless trash. And in a way, he's right.
"I'm sorry for always hurting you."
He crumples forward, weeping softly. Her hand is warm and so much smaller than his, and he grips it desperately, the mark of his name shaking as he cries.
The room is otherwise quiet. Finally, Kazuma gets a hold of himself. His eyes are red and swollen and his chest is tight with half-choked sobs, but he manages to stop crying.
Outside, it's starting to snow. Kazuma rises to a stand and starts to leave, but then thinks the better of it: he turns and drapes another blanket on top of Veena, covering her to keep her from getting cold.