Drenched in Gold
RIN
It is your duty, sweet daughter.
In doing this, you will save lives.
You will protect us all.
You understand, don't you?
My sweet, sweet daughter.
Freedom is such a small price to pay.
[ * ]
The Imperial Magician was, once again, stroking my fingers.
His fingers were thick and round and hard, like over baked sausages, and they were hot, uncomfortably so. Warmth oozed off him like pus from a sore. To be near him was to risk suffocation, or a sweat pool shimmering wetly against the soft silk of your kimono. I was used to his heat, though, and his inappropriate touches, his breath heavy and hot, the unexpected brush of skin against skin. Though, in this case, it felt more like skin brushing up against tough leather.
Perhaps Father saw. Sitting directly across from me, his stern face raised up, hard eyes a steely grey with a bluish, metal shine, could have easily twitched his head side ways and seen the dull brown sausages that caressed my milky skin, moving slowly, rhythmically. But either my Father never saw, or couldn't summon the energy to care. Instead, he focused on the woman on the other side of the room, a beautiful lady wrapped in soft blue silks, speckled with cherry blossoms, fat orange koi dancing and splashing at her ankles, and a great silver moon blooming like some godly flower over her left breast. Thick turquoise hair was strung back in two pony-tails, tumbling artfully down her back, and glistening coolly in the early morning sunlight. Her skin was the same milky white shade as mine, pale but not so much that it becomes pasty.
All in all, she was a beautiful woman.
It was the eyes that let her down.
Perhaps they were once beautiful. Perhaps they once shone with life, bright green flecked with blue, round and huge, like polished jade. They were not beautiful anymore. Today, they were flat, dull, lifeless. Eyes like dead stone. She stared forward unseeingly, dead to the world, dead to the man sitting beside her, dead to the comforting and protective hand that clutched her shoulder. It was a disturbing thing, to stare into her cold, cold gaze.
I wondered, briefly, if I looked anymore alive then her.
"I must thank you for this again, Kagamine-dono." The man was saying. He was the same age as his pretty sister, ten-and-six, a strong man of modest height and broad shoulders and a shock of turquoise hair. His eyes were narrow and sharp like daggers and shimmered a pale blue, like ice, potted with the green of old emeralds. His kimono was a pale cream colour, the pants stained grey, with a thin brown length of cloth that wrapped tightly about his slender waist.
"I do not know how to repay you for your generosity -"
"Enough, child." Father said calmly, but sternly, and the boy instantly fell silent. He knew better then to disobey the lord of his province. With a flick of his wrist, Father could have his whole village burned to ashes, his throat slit and his sister ripped apart limb by limb, and no-one would so much as utter a whisper in protest. "You needn't thank me again. My daughter has known all her life where her fate lies. Though she will be meeting it sooner then expected – at fourteen, rather then sixteen – it matters not. She knows how to behave, what to do. Your sister was nothing more then a temporary Keeper. It was always planned that she would be put aside."
The young man nodded. Father might have seen it for a sign of respect, but I saw it for what it was. An attempt to hide the confusion twisting across his expression, evidence that he couldn't tell whether or not my lord father had just insulted his sister's honour, whether they have just received a compliment. Was his sister truly expendable? Just some toy to be played with, tossed about carelessly, then thrown away when entertainment could no longer be found and left to rot in the gutter? How could he say such things...? I have served him so loyally, offering my sister in the first place-
I blinked.
My eyes hurt.
"You and Miku-san may leave." Father said dismissively. He stood, and the Imperial Minister scrambled to his feet and released my hand; I could feel sweat bubbling between the thin lines in my palm, sparkling wetly in the shadowy crevasses between my fingers, and dribbling down my wrist. The boy rose, too, after a moment of respectful hesitation. His sister clung to his arm, her legs wobbling dangerously, eyes rolling crazily in their sockets; briefly, she slumped against him and did not move, shivering all over, empty eyes staring out darkly. Then she blinked and seemed to regain her strength somewhat, and her brother tugged at her arm and steered her away.
The door was a sliding paper door, the trade mark of all Japanese houses. The door whispered roughly as it opened, whispered roughly when it closed. Father's lips moved, his voice low and gruff, and the Imperial Magician bowed deeply, so that the wide sleeves of his gown pooled around his ankles and the sharp spike of his brown-streaked-grey beard stabbed into the smooth flooring. Then he moved swiftly from the room. His presence was no longer needed.
Father turned to me.
He didn't speak, but it didn't matter, because I already knew what he was going to say.
[ * ]
The Garden of Secluded Harmony was one of four gardens on the estate. The others were Garden of Falling Stars, Garden of Heavenly Radiance, and Garden of Cherry Blossoms; all were beautiful in their own unique way, but Secluded Harmony was my favourite. Here, there was a broad lake of dark blue water that glistened with a silvery sheen in some places, sparkled gold in others, speckled with whites and greens. Tall trees bent sideways, with long, needle-thin branches twisting and forking and jerking through the cool spring air, dripping with pale purple blossoms that would soon bloom into large purple flowers, petals soft as velvet and dotted with white swirls. The grasses were kept short and shivered in the faintest breeze, murmuring quietly. A wooden bridge zig-zagged over the lake, all polished and gleaming golden-brown.
On the far side of the lake, a few meters away from the bridge's base, there was a building. Small, wooden, with a roof of ebony tiles. Paper enchantment clung to the door, covered every inch of it, all with kanji symbols painted on with thick black ink.
Father walked me to the bridge, but from there, I would go on my own. He glanced at me briefly, eyes like cold steel, and then he looked away, staring straight ahead, and I started off over the bridge. The boards creaked softly under even my little weight; koi fished danced and splashed through the lake's shadowy depths, seaweeds writhing like murky tentacles, bubbles popping loudly upon meeting the surface. Birds tweeted merrily in the nearby trees, and the fragrance of blooming flowers tickled my nose. The wind was cool and moved gently across my skin.
Then I reached the hut, and the world held its breath.
Shadows were thicker here, stretching long and angrily, darkly, hands of darkness reaching out. The grasses were less loved and haphazardly trimmed; occasionally, the grass would explode from the earth like green spears, and only a few paces away it would be ripped apart, weak and dying, dust and dirt peering through the pale green foliage. The birds were silent, the breeze was chilling.
I moved without stopping.
I felt no fear. I had been trained since birth not to feel fear.
I touched my hand to the enchantment-coated door, and my fingertips began to tingle. The enchantment peeled away and the door swung inwards with a low and echoing creak, and inside the darkness was suffocating, thick like water, a wall of black stone. I strode in unblinkingly, following the sharp beam of light that sliced through the shadowy world like a glowing golden arrow. I reached out to my left and felt the lantern hanging from the iron hook and quickly pulled it off. I struck a small fire with the matches that sat close by; the flame was small but burned fiercely, almost angrily, spitting fluttering orange sparks and sending waves of heat rolling over my fingers. I quickly lit the lantern, glancing away as the oil burst into hungry red flames. Candlelight spilled around me, tinged orange and red, and I pushed the door closed and the latch clicked into place.
Cautiously, I moved forward, and allowed the blazing orange flame to light my way.
I took not six steps, and reached the iron bars. Taller then me, maybe taller then my father, and wrapped in more enchantments. Beyond that was a dirty floor riddled with clumps of grass and food scraps and a winding iron chain that glistened redly in the fierce firelight. The chain twisted and jerked like a metal snake slithering through the undergrowth before, at last, it wound tightly around the ankle of my charge.
The boy was not a particularly terrifying image. Curled up in a ball, arms hanging limply between his legs, one foot pulled in while the other stretched out harmlessly, he seemed to be a simple child sleeping the morning away, perhaps conserving energy for the exhausting farm work most peasant boys must endure. He wore white pants smeared with dirt and grime and a tight fitting black vest of some thin material that revealed every line and bump that arched or criss-crossed over his slender torso; a toned body, muscles evenly spaced, with his shoulders bare and lightly tanned. The right side of his body was wrapped in a length of soft silk, dyed dark blue and decorated with highly detailed depictions of flowers in full bloom, flowers with short, jagged petals, coloured in dull reds and ghostly grey; it pooled about his waist and was kept there by a long strand of yellow rope. His hair was girlishly long, but strung back in the tight pony-tail, looked short; the locks were drenched in a molten gold that caught the candlelight and shone like strips of stolen stars, turning amber and red and orange where the light split and bent and scattered.
I made no sound, made no move to announce my presence, but he chuckled anyway. It was a dusty sound, low, hoarse, crackling.
A pair of striking blue eyes rose to meet my own.
I blinked, and suddenly they were a smouldering scarlet, and his body was pressed right up against the enchanted iron bars. He reached out as if to touch me, but the air shivered and a bright green light flashed, and he jerked his hand away, cringed in pain. Then he looked at me and grinned lopsidedly, showing unnaturally sharp white teeth.
"So..." The demon whispered, the husky sound shivering through my body. "...you're my new Keeper, eh?"
An idea I thought I'd try out. Len's a demon, Rin is his Keeper. More on that subject will be explained in the next chapter. The dead-eyed girl was Miku. I think its pretty obvious who her brother is :3
My first RinxLen story :D I normally prefer to write them as twins, but I thought I'd give it ago, give Len the angry, sacrastic personality I normally reserve for Utatane Piko and do a 360 on Rin and make her emotionless. The rating may or may not change, depending on how violent or lustful I choose to make Lenny boy ;)
Review for more~
Thanks for reading! I apologise for any grammar mistakes!
[ EDIT ] Went through and got rid of some of the mistakes the lovely ~honorificabilitudintatibus (sorry if I spelt that wrong! xD) pointed out! Thanks :)
- ravenbynight