Don't tell my Beta that it's already published. She wanted to do second check for missing articles :P
This story is for the best FB Mai-Hime Fanfiction group :D You know who you are, ppl :P
Thirty seven stairs led onto the top of the temple. Clad in a white, hooded robe, the Scythe scaled them one by one. She moved in a slow deliberate manner not only because such was a must for the ritual she was about to complete. Rather, she was reluctant to complete it at all. Reluctant to commit a deed cruel yet necessary.
Maybe she would feel better if that one person was by her side as promised. The rules and protocols required her to enter the temple alone; there could be no witnesses to the Harvest. Still, the one she considered her spiritual mate promised her to be there, to lend her strength so she would not cower at the last moment.
For Goddess's will was not easy to abide. Deep from the past came her grudge towards people, grudge that required the Harvest to take place every seventy years. Should it not happen, Fumi would wipe out entire natural life, eventually leading to the demise of humans. In the core of this hatred, laid - as relayed by ancient texts - a broken heart.
The Scythe entered the temple and when the wooden doors closed behind her, she slipped the hood of her head. Honey-colored hair spilled in a cascade over her shoulders, its soft waves framing her unexpectedly calm face. Crimson eyes, the sign from Fumi marking her as the Scythe, opened wider as the woman tried to get accustomed to the semi-darkness filling the sacred room. Then, she took a lingering look around, hoping for the familiar presence to reveal itself. She could almost hear the husky voice bragging how easy it was to slip past the guards and into the temple. But it bragged only in her mind. The temple was empty, bar the Scythe herself and the few that lined her way to the inner sanctuary.
In the times when gods often trod among mortals, the same was true for Fumi, the guardian goddess of the Aswald country. She visited her believers in different forms, but most often as a young, beautiful maiden. Maiden so lovely in fact, that all it took was to bat her long eyelashes and men were ready to do any and every thing she asked of them. Fumi took great delight in their worship, blessing the lands ever so generously.
But even Goddess wasn't immune to simple infatuation. She fell in love with a young lad, whose unruly black hair made him look feral. At first, it seemed the feeling was mutual and the two of them spent numerous lovely moments together. But it so happened one evening, that they were attacked by a band of masked men while taking a stroll by the river. Fumi turned to her lover for help, doing it purely by some feminine instinct because she could easily dispose of attackers on her own.
He was gone. The one she put her trust in betrayed her, valuing his hide more than her safety. After the first shock faded, the goddess let herself be consumed by anger. She denied people her blessings, destroying plants and animals, first around her temple but slowly reaching further. When her terrified believers begged Fumi for mercy, she demanded from them a sacrifice of twelve girls, chosen according to several conditions. Aside from meeting a number of other requirements, the girls had to be untouched, in every imaginable aspect of the word.
The Scythe closed the distance to the first girl on her path to the inner sanctuary. All sacrifices were clothed in robes not unlike her own, but dyed with different colourings. With hands a bit unsteady, she pushed the hood back, revealing the scared face of a girl at the beginning of her adolescence. So young, younger even than the Scythe...
Caressing a heated cheek with one hand, she reached with the other one between the folds of her robe. Slowly, she closed her fingers on a small bottle of cool liquid that would soon be used to complete the sacrifice. With a steadiness coming from numerous hours of practice during her seven month long training before the ritual, she unplugged the vial and brought it to her lips.
Familiar sting spread over her lips as they were moistened by the concoction. The Scythe tipped the bottle further, letting the cool liquid roll down her tongue while she counted falling drops. Enough. She pocketed the vial and took a deep breath. This was it, she couldn't wait any longer for her mate.
"Picked at the spring of your life, when you bloom the fullest," chanted the Scythe first part of the sacrificial phrase.
"I will forever rest at my Goddess's feet," came the answer, quiet and unsteady.
Holding the girl with incredible gentleness, the Scythe dipped her over her left arm, using her right hand to catch her chin.
"May she welcome you with open arms," she whispered, capturing the girl's lips in a kiss. She caressed them for a moment before she let her tongue slip past their barrier.
The one in her arms slackened - the poisonous concoction was already working. The first kiss in the girl's life became her last one as well. With a heavy sigh, the Scythe laid her down upon the bed of silk pillows and looked at the others, still waiting for her kiss of death… The Scythe! how proper a name for the one reaping young lives and laying them down by Goddess's altar.
Damned be the Harvest, this wicked ritual that forced one innocent soul to take twelve others, innocent just as much. Damned be her crimson eyes and hair like wheat and all the other signs that marked her as Fumi's chosen one. Damned be the one that promised to stay by her and never kept her promise…
They knew each other since forever, sharing milk bottle first, bowl of porridge later and a draft or two of mead in the last weeks. They grew together, ate together, played and studied, and worked - together. Together they slept as well. And although her companion seemed completely satisfied with that, ever since they hit puberty the Scythe wanted something more. Or maybe she'd wanted it even before that but without the realisation? Still, she wouldn't say a word and satisfied herself with these scraps of attention that she was given for fear that should she demand more, her spiritual mate would be disgusted and leave her altogether.
While same-sex relationships were not stigmatised, they were not condoned either. It was even a bit of a wonder that no one protested when she was recognised as the first female Scythe in history. And her precious one, they never really talked how she felt about such couples. She was afraid that at the mention of this subject, distaste and repulsion would come to dwell in the usually compassionate emerald eyes.
Maybe she had learned of the Scythe's desires. Or maybe she was so disgusted by the very thought of watching two women kiss during the Harvest that she went back on her promise. But then, why promise in a first place?
Shaking these questions away, the Scythe took a step forward, reaching the second girl. She desperately clung to all her beliefs and teachings as the hood revealed yet another childlike face. The vial and the familiar sting of cool liquid. The hastily chanted words of the ritual. And the kiss. She all but rushed through the sacrifices, eventually resolving to moistening her lips before taking their hoods off. This way she had to look in their eyes - sometimes serene, sometimes a bit resentful - only for the short moment of chanting the sacred phrases.
Finally, the last one.
Closing her eyes with relief, the Scythe pushed the hood of the girl's head and chanted:
"Picked at the spring of your life, when you bloom the fullest…"
"I will forever rest at my Goddess's feet."
At the sound of a husky tone of a voice so familiar, so dear to her heart, her eyes shot wide open. Suddenly speechless, she shook her head vehemently in denial to what she saw.
"May she welcome you with open arms." And when she still couldn't find her voice, the girl explained: "That's what you're supposed to say now."
"Natsuki… Why… What are you doing here?"
"I promised I'll be with you during the Harvest. Did I not, Shizuru?"
"But-but I've never thought it would be like this. I…" The Scythe took a deep breath and then another one, to still her racing heart. "How could have this happened?"
Natsuki's smile held a hint of sadness as she looked away before answering, her voice quiet but steady.
"They tasked me with gathering girls for the Harvest. I found quite a few eligible but when I talked to them… Some of them were prepared for this since their childhood by their devout parents. Others were more than a bit surprised but they thought it righteous to lay their lives down for this cause. There were even some for whom this fate seemed better than the lives they lived." The girl sighed and shook her head. "But most of them, they were stupefied. They almost begged me - almost, cause, you know, you shouldn't say no when Fumi asks for you - to let them be, to overlook them in my search. So in the end there was the eleven of them and me." Once again she looked at the girls laying along the aisle. Rueful chuckle escaped her lips and she reached for Shizuru's hand. "I knew you'd make great Scythe. Just look what a beautiful sheaf you've made for Goddess."
"I won't reap you!" Shizuru gathered her spiritual mate in her arms and relief washed her over when her hug was returned. "Fumi can take anyone but you. And I don't care," at Natsuki's attempt at interruption, her speech quickened, "if you fit any bloody requirement of hers. Actually," suddenly, she was struck with an idea. "I can make it so that you won't qualify for a sacrifice. I'll do it with real pleasure."
She reached for the hem of Natsuki's robe, pushing her hand underneath, letting it grab at slim legs, but the girl only pulled her closer.
"You won't do it, Shizuru." As the low whisper sounded in her ear, the Scythe shut her eyes and swallowed hard, knowing the truth in these words. "Because you care too much. And because you know that once you've entered the temple, you cannot leave until the Harvest is finished lest it has to be fully redone."
One last desperate idea.
"Then let me…"
Soft hands kept stroking her back, as if to lessen the blow.
"You are the Scythe chosen by Fumi herself. I could never reap you." Natsuki pulled from her to look her in the eye. "I'd rather it be you than anyone else."
Shizuru cringed and blinked back her tears. How could she live after this, after killing the one so close to her heart? Soon, all thoughts vanished from her head as something soft touched her lips. This softness was tentative in its movements, tempting and pulling away almost immediately. The Scythe eagerly accepted its unspoken invitation, prying the softness open, exploring its warmth, getting drunk with rich and heady sensations she found within…
Until a quiet gasp brought her back to her senses, until a limp body weighed down on her arms. Desperately, she tried to understand what has just transpired. Natsuki was kissing her and…
Natsuki was… kissing…
Wide-eyed, the Scythe witnessed Natsuki's mouthing her last "thank you" before her lips froze in a delicate smile.
She fell to her knees, screaming her refusal to accept this death. With shaking hands, she swept raven hair from the pale face caressing it, willing it with all her might to come back to life.
Only after all her efforts came to naught, did she whisper:
"May she welcome you with open arms."
Gathering lifeless body of her precious one in her arms, the Scythe raised her face toward the ceiling, toward the heavens where supposedly Goddess dwelt. Tears were streaming down her face yet she kept her silence, unsure what words would come out of her lips. Would it be a wish that Natsuki's sacrifice wasn't in vain or would she rather curse merciless Goddess for depriving her of the one person she held dear?
As if clouds split apart on a gloomy day and sun peaked through them, Shizuru found herself bathed in a soft, warm light. And then she heard a voice, not coming from anywhere but resounding deep within her.
Why are you sad, my graceful Florist? You've arranged such a wonderful bouquet for me! And this Lily in your hands - what a splendid company she'll make.
Shizuru shook her head in confusion. What bouquet, what lily? It was Fumi's voice that rang in her, of this she had no doubt. But what was she to make of Goddess's words?
"I am no florist. You've made me your Scythe so that your broken heart would be appeased with girls reaped at their youth." She focused her attention back on Natsuki only now realising that the girl's dress was white as lily.
Fumi's presence left her just for a little while and then Shizuru felt some conscience gently touching her innermost thoughts. At first, she shuddered at this intrusion but when the inspection was over she felt unexpectedly bereft.
Once again, she heard Fumi's voice within herself. This time though, it sounded rather severe.
You've brought me an abundant harvest, young Scythe, and for this you deserve a reward. I can bring you to where your loved one will dwell from now on. I can grant you an eternity together.
Shizuru didn't need much time to consider Goddess's offer. After all, she was Natsuki's only family.
"While I am grateful for your kindness," this last word barely squeezed through her throat. "I have to decline such a generosity. Without me, the memory of Natsuki will soon be gone and what she'd done, who she was, it can not be forgotten. I will not allow for it to be forgotten."
And what you will say to your kinsmen? Will you speak of your righteous anger toward Goddess who deprived you of whom you loved the most?
Melancholy smile gracing her lips, the Scythe caressed Natsuki's face.
"I will not waste my breath for that. I will rather speak of her kindness and beauty. Of what a wonderful friend she was to me. Of all the things that she'd taught me."
Suddenly, a giggle bubbled inside Shizuru and once again she heard Goddess, her voice much like the first time, soft and tender.
Then see and learn.
In the times when gods often trod among mortals, it so happened that the guardian god of the Aswald country shirked his station. The region was gradually falling into decay, plants and animals dying, first around the abandoned temple but then further and further. One day, a fair maiden wandered into the temple only to learn that the irresponsible defector left behind a curse, making the first person to step past the shrine's threshold the new guardian god.
Fumi shouldered her new role with all the courage her teenage heart could muster. Having learnt of her fate, a few girls decided to keep her company in her unrewarding watch over the region. The twelve of them were put by means of a herbal concoction to death-resembling sleep that freed their spirits from the bodies. Dressed in colourful robes, they lay in the temple as a lush bouquet offered to the divine one. The girls lived their lives with Goddess in the spiritual form until their time came. Fumi's fate was still remembered by some people so they found another girls to attend upon her.
Somewhere during the years that followed, the ceremony of sending the twelve girls into a peaceful existence by Goddess's side became treated as a mass sacrifice, the girls no longer part of a bouquet but a sheaf, reaped in their prime by cruel Scythe.
The pain that Shizuru felt as she learned of the real story was twofold: it was the pain of Fumi's loneliness and the pain of Goddess's learning how people twisted what was once a willing sacrifice. On the brink of tears, she felt soft hand gently stroking her back. And she heard, for the last time, the voice that resounded deep within her.
Now go, my florist. And if you will, bring me a bouquet once in a while.
The voice was gone, the light has faded and Shizuru found herself back in the temple. Nothing has changed, Natsuki was lying dead and so were the other girls. Bracing herself to face the world, the Scythe pulled her hood on and swaggered toward the door. She pushed them open and squinted at the blinding sun.
When she finally could open her eyes, she was astounded by what she saw. The greenery that had always barely reached the temple yard, now overgrew it completely. Even the temple itself, its stone stairs and pillars were covered in luscious flora. Murmurs and rustles came from behind Shizuru's back and soon she felt somebody crowding behind her to catch a glimpse of this wonder. The girls, the sacrifices! Alive and in perfect health! One, two, three… ten, eleven.
Only eleven of them. The twelfth one was still lying at the threshold of the inner sanctuary.
Pushing through the excitedly chattering girls, Shizuru slowly walked to the unmoving form of her most dear one. She knelt by her and reached to push the hood of her head, to take one last look at the lovely face. A hood? Hadn't she taken it off before the…
The amused sparkle in the emerald eyes was soon accompanied by a low laughter. Shizuru turned away and involuntarily pouted at this untimely joke. Soon there were gentle hands touching her face and shy lips seeking hers and meeting them in a clumsy kiss.
"Natsuki," she admonished halfheartedly, too delighted to question the girl about her caress. "Goddess is watching."
"Let's make her jealous, then."
After the trip to Kraków, plotbunnies are multiplying like mad. I mean, whatever I read or watch, I get new ideas. Not sure how many of them will turn into the actual stories, though :P
And this story was inspired by some cheap erotica I read during 8h train journey.
Read and review, if you will (hey, I've learnt a new phrase!) :D