A/N
Yay, I get to introduce the main character (other than D)~!
As for the... extensive descriptions, just know that there is something in those descriptions which is imperatively important. Maybe you'll figure out which one and make the connections later (although I doubt it, 'cause I overdid it just to make it difficult) ^^
Last chapter's title was already translated, but this one isn't. So~: ライダー - RAIDAA - Rider. Simple as that
Requiem for Ether
A paradise in the clouds—Hell in the Heavens
Son-Gyoukumo Kousui had certainly lived up to his name.
When the rider entered the village at a leisurely pace, he was immediately greeted with carnage.
Strung in every single doorway was a corpse: men, women, and children. Their hands and feet were nailed to the doorway, a massive silver stake through the heart. Carved into their foreheads was オマモリ (omamori), a good luck charm to ward off evil.
Through the streets were long trails of blood, like red silk in a river. It was lurid, and still wet.
This had only just been done.
Screams and sobs echoed off the walls, swirling into the early morn air. Were the rider to glance to either side of himself, there would be nothing to greet his eyes but one of these mutilated corpses and their sobbing family members. Women were lying on the ground, thick tears dribbling down their cheeks as they screamed and sobbed, pale digits clutching at the body's blue feet and trouser pants. The children either stared in silent horror as they went into shock, or stood around screaming irrationally, too mortified to do much else. Even some of the men had tears in their eyes, faces pale and stricken, either unable to move, or lost in an enraged madness as they beat at the motionless corpses, ordering them to wake up, that this wasn't funny. Most haunting of all were those who were silent. Those who simply stood and stared at the screaming people all around or the cadaver nailed to their door with empty eyes, unblinking, unmoving, unfeeling.
The scent of blood and death was overwhelming, yet the rider indicated nothing. He just stared ahead, urging his horse to continue forth. It was frightening how unmoved he was by the scene surround. How cool his countenance was, pale and cold and empty.
As he looked around, the rider came to realize something: everyone was young. He spied not a single person over thirty. And the majority of the people, dead and alive, were teenagers.
This village was practically composed of children!
Yet he betrayed no surprise or distaste or any other thought. He merely stored away the information for later analysis.
Despite the carnage all 'round, the rider continued forth, his horse's hooves clopping unsettlingly in the puddles of blood and mud.
...
"My deepest apologies for the rude greetings Hunter-dono received."
Silence.
"I am sure the sight was not much to one so well-traveled as Hunter-dono. Even so, it was entirely unacceptable—"
"There is nothing to apologize for," the rider interrupted with a deep, empty voice.
Yama Kaiden looked down, away from the man's penetrating gaze. Her black eyes were heavy with stress.
"Understood," she said quietly. They were not the ones at fault; it was Son-Gyoukumo who wreaked such horror upon Boushitsutengoku. However, for someone so reserved, it remained unacceptable to reveal such a thing to an outsider. It was too personal. Outsiders did not understand this.
"What will you do?"
The girl's head jerked back up at that question. What would she do? The only thing she could do at this point.
"I am unsure. However, Son-Gyoukumo has already delivered his retribution, so I may only hope he is content."
An unspoken question lingered in the air: "Will Hunter-dono hunt him for us?" The man before her was a Vampire Hunter, as she had already acknowledged in her every address. Yet she did not ask him for this. Nor would she. Hiring Vampire Hunters was what had resulted in the slaughter of one forth of her village. There was no way she would risk bringing such misery upon her people again by hiring another Hunter. And the village no longer had the money to spare for any such payment; all had been lost with the lives of those four—including what little hope there had been.
She nervously smoothed an invisible crease out of her kimono, eyes averted. Just waiting for a reprimand of some sort. For him to call her a complacent idiot. To say that he could easily slay Son-Gyoukumo.
To her surprise, no rebuke ever came.
"It is doubtful," she continued, "Son-Gyoukumo will take Hunter-dono's presence well. He might kill more people in a rage, possibly even Hunter-dono. So it is with great regret that I bequest Hunter-dono leave Boushitsutengoku by nightfall.
"We shall, of course, supply Hunter-dono with supplies and water for his horse. Our hospitality is at Hunter-dono's disposal."
Something else unspoken. They had plenty of water, and plenty of rice in the fields. But no one to harvest the rice. And therefore an impending food shortage. With so few people left to make the harvest, efficiency would plummet, and the harvest would be too small, despite the decreased population. Already was Kaiden's mind overwhelmed with the stress of planning the upcoming harvest, calculating who was fit to work what job, and so-on. Just this meeting with the Hunter she could not hire was detrimental. It was stealing time she should've been spending working. Oh yes! And the hunting hounds had all been slaughtered, so now what little protein had been in her people's diet was gone, as well as about half their food... Oh, maybe they could find a nearby river and try to fish some food? So much to do! She didn't have time to be entertaining this Hunter she couldn't hire.
"Would Hunter-dono be so kind as to excuse me? I shall call a servant to attend to you for the time being."
The two gave ojigi. Yama Kaiden's ojigi was far deeper than the Hunter's, yet his seemed to hold more respect; she seemed more rushed, than anything.
And thus Kaiden shuffled backwards from the chashitsu (tearoom), giving another ojigi as she reached the doorway. A servant slid open the shoji screen, to whom she whispered a few words before making her exit.
The servant turned to the Hunter. "Ah, Hunter-sama." It was a six year old girl. She spoke a crude formal, rather than keigo as Yama Kaiden had, but it was comically sweet in such a high-pitched and innocent voice. "Hunter-sama's horse has been taken to the stables, and is being cared for. Meanwhile, won't Hunter-sama like to take a rest at the sabou (teahouse)? It must have been a long journey." The nearest town was six days ride away.
"Yes."
...
The Hunter gazed blankly from the window of his room at the village sabou. Boushitsutengoku didn't receive many visitors, so an inn would be impractical; therefore, they just placed what few guests were ever to be had in an empty chashitsu. It was just as nice as any hotel, however, for the sabou were cared for with the utmost diligence. The tatami mats were without a single loose fringe or tear, despite the dilapidation of the streets just outside, and the shoji screens smelt of freshly pasted rice-paper. His bed consisted of a rolled out mat made of finely-woven blue silk with a soothing wave pattern; it looked like the precision work of a kimono-maker.
Everything about the room was of the finest quality.
It made the Hunter truly obtuse. The shoji screens were fresh white, the tatami a light tan; the woodwork was of a cherry stain, his sleeping mat aquamarine. And the Hunter was garbed entirely in black, head to toe. From his black, flexible armor plating, to his onyx cloak, to the wide-brimmed midnight hat overtop his head. Even his hair was black. And, to contrast all this darkness, the Hunter's skin was as pale as the moon itself. His ethereal beauty was all that belonged within the well-kept chashitsu.
"What're you doing, D?" a scratchy voice asked from nowhere. The Hunter's lips had not moved, nor was there anyone else in the room. So who was it that had spoken?
And the mysterious voice received no reply.
The room was thick with a pregnant silence, a tension so overwhelming, it could be pierced by the longsword strapped across the rider's back.
Being 11:00 Morning, one should have been able to hear the bustling of the villagers all 'round. Yet there was no such thing. No carts rolling along the crumbling streets, no vendors calling out their goods, no children playfully scampering and laughing along the way to wherever it was they went, no one holding friendly conversation with one another. Only. total. silence. It was unsettling, really, how not a single noise cried out. Were someone to drop a pin, it would be a nuclear bomb in this silence.
This was no ordinary silence. It was a deathly still kind of silence, an endless moment in time, a foreboding, an unsettling prélude to that which was to come.
Something was coming.
And it was no ordinary something.
A steaming cup of o-cha (green tea) sat untouched on the table. The steam curled up in wafting swoops, swirling shapes sifting between abstract and hauntingly recognizable. At one point, it seemed to form the countenance of a woman with a face—
Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the apparition swirled into yet more abstract curls.
The Hunter, who had been gazing emptily out the window this whole time, was nowhere near facing the o-cha, so it was not any wonder he had given no reaction to the face, especially considering the chances of him having eyes in the back of his head.
Outside, meanwhile, the world was equally quiet. Which wasn't much of a wonder, either.
The view through the window was of a great niwa; a kokeniwa. Heavenly green koke (moss) created a lush blanket overtop the ground, climbing up the seven Japanese maples strategically placed to direct the flow of feng shui. A placid ike sat unmoving in the center of the garden, a sterling mirror to the ashen ether overhead, ringed by a slate-gray ariso; along this edge was the continuous, velvety koke blanket, dotted with azaleas ranging in color from white to red, a stark contrast to the surrounding green, and white satsuki. Several ishidoro dotted the waters alongside small iwajima. There was also an arrangement of kamejima. All this echoed of the ancient Kusen Hakkai Ishi; and with this revelation, the ike could easily be considered sansui, as the worship of the mountain became clearly apparent. The kokeniwa was a kanshoniwa, no doubt. Thus the koke grew to hold great meaning in its absorption of sound, a shima of silent peace, garbed in bamboo and two-needled pines. Jutting into the ike was a gabled gazebo whilst small curls of incense smoke came—a place for prayer—placed atop a dejima, a small patch of bamboo stalks growing to wall in the single dirt pathway amongst the koke which trailed off amongst the foliage.
Creating a kokeniwa here was actually quite ingenious. Not once had the cloud cover ceased, so none of the plants received much direct light; it was heaven for koke. The air was cool and damp, but at a decent humidity, and there was dew everywhere, the roads bejeweled with puddles galore, their placid surfaces reflecting the ever ashen skies overhead. In the distance, thunder rumbled, echoing off the mountains surround, but dulled to near silence by the koke. Such all-encompassing quiet was unsettling, putting every sensation on high alert. Thus its being a kanshoniwa. Total silence, with nothing to distract, left much room for contemplation as one prayed at the gazebo overlooking such a beautiful scene, the scent of burning incense and dewy koke creating a rich aroma which enveloped the senses. Time seemed at a standstill here, shadows unmoving with no Sun to direct them, no urban noise invading. Truly a paradise.
A paradise in the clouds, Heaven in Hell.
For, despite the niwa's peace, this world was not in the least calm.
Normally, the quiet of the niwa urged contemplation and deep thought. At this moment, however, there was a stiff tension in the air. And the rider sensed this unfailingly, although still nothing crossed his beautiful countenance.
Finally, sound pierced the stillness. A musical pitter-patter rippling in the sansui, pooling atop the koke river, shivering down the pine needles: rain.
Even this noise failed to pierce the tenseness, however. It needled through it, created little holes which seemed to tear with great cries. Great screams and bloodshed which tied the tension even tighter together.
What little light had been piercing through the cloud cover began to fade.
Across the niwa, with a fine black line, darkness encroached, despite its being midday, as the world fell into the blackness of night at noon.
...
Boushitsutengoku is an ancient village, placed high in the Northern Japanese Alps. To reach the village, one must trek through the rugged mountains, cross rushing rivers, and traverse intimidating gorges and ravines, many of which are without bridges or proper roads. Always, there is a thick snowpack, and glaciers dominate the high landscapes, for, in this region, cloud cover is eternal. The climate is due to a minor glitch in this sector's weather controller, and while the rest of the Honshu holds a moderate range of temperatures and weathers, this tiny region receives constant cloud cover which never wavers or fades, if only to darken with autumn thunderstorms. The people living in this environment, Boushitsutengoku in particular, have adapted their way of life to suit the controller's glitch.
For many months of the year, there is fantastic snowfall which stops all farming; thus, it is of the utmost importance to harvest as much food as possible come autumn, and even in summer. The houses are built of sturdy light-gray granite, hand quarried from the mountains surround, and black slate roofs in order to withstand the winter snows; meanwhile, all the inside walls are shoji screens, as well as at least one outside wall, in order to moderate between the hot and cold temperatures of summer, the structures themselves elevated several feet aboveground. Through the village are several canals channeling all the runoff rainwater to the nearby Haiame-gawa, or irrigating it to the rice fields surround—the people's main source of food. The rest of their diet consists of eagle, bear, and horsemeat, along with whatever small game their hunting hounds can catch.
This tiny village has existed with its miniscule population for seven millennia, under Noble rule a majority of the time. The Nobility was attracted to the region by its flourishing onsen and mountain scenery. Soaring peaks provided the perfect fortress once humanity turned the tables on their rule, as well. And their werewolves were well suited to the cold and rugged terrain, which made for excellent hunting games. Boushitsutengoku has been used since time immemorial as a base for these games, the people so crushed by the Nobility's cruelty that they would never even consider rebelling, even as their women were stolen as sustenance and pleasure, their children for unimaginable experimentation, their men for cruel games of slaughter. In return for their deathly servitude, the villagers were given permanently fertile soil, more due to volcanic ash than anything else, immortal homes which did not burn down, and genetically engineered rice and sakura trees which could withstand the harsh winter months. Thus, they were given a permanent livelihood when many wished for nothing less than death.
For seven millennia, the mortal inhabitants of Boushitsutengoku have lived in the shadow of a Noble castle. A tyrannical ruler has been ever pervasive, the killing games growing more and more grotesque with every passing century, the experiments sicker. Their lord determines who is fit to live in the village and who shall perish by personal preference; this preference tends to lean towards the young, beautiful, helpless, and naïve. Thus, for seven millennia, no citizen of the tiny village has lived beyond thirty five. And children are subjugated to cruel experimentation and adult livelihood when they are nowhere near ready. Children becoming husband and wife, eleven year old girls bearing babies of their own. Incest ran rampant as the population dipped time and time again, as the number of workers to harvest the rice and feed the people faded. Brother with sister, father with daughter—it doesn't matter! So warped are they, the very concept of right from wrong in many normal aspects are nonexistent.
Nor is there anyone to intervene.
Boushitsutengoku is locked in by heavy snowfall the entire winter, most of the spring, and the latter half of autumn. This alone leaves the very possibility of connection with the outside world to summertime, of which is a fleeting and grievous season. No one visits the tiny village, for everyone knows of the absolute control its lord holds. There is no resistance, nor has there ever been any such record. None is willing to risk their own lives in order to rescue these condemned people.
Hope has grown to a faint concept present only in old books stored in a safe beneath Shichou's compound. Those texts are but fairytales to these forlorn folk—practically folktales themselves...
A/N
山灰天 – Yama Kaiden – "Yama" means "Mountain"; "Kai" means "Gray or Ash"; and "den" means "sky or heaven". GoogleTranslate calls it "Heavenly Mountain Ash" lol, but I had "Mountain" and "Ashen Sky" or "Ashen Heavens" in mind when I created the name, as though the eternity of the mountains and the gray sky are synonymous, that they are in a forsaken paradise
灰雨川 – Haiame-gawa – "Hai" means "Ash"; "ame" means "rain"; and "gawa" means "river". They're in the Northern Japanese Alps; therefore, there are volcanoes, plus the region's trapped in eternal cloud cover, so it's a play on the environment as "Ash-Rain River" or something along those lines
An ojigi is a Japanese bow. It is usually from the waist, men with their arms at their sides, women with their hands in front. In the instance it's utilized in this chapter, Kaiden and D are sitting on the floor, so the form's a bit different: hands in front, on the floor, forehead actually touching the floor if you go low enough. Kaiden went down to the floor, D only halfway, as you can probably guess from the description
Niwa – Literal translation is "pure place", but it's also used to reference a garden
An onsen is basically a hot spring
Shichou means "Mayor"
It should also be noted that Japanese has no plural forms; therefore, I'm going to follow that grammar, even with Japanese words added to the English dictionary. Thus, "The two gave ojigi" instead of "ojigis"
I made lots of Japanese garden references, I'll admit. Had to really work hard to look that stuff up O.O Here's the main site I used: learn. bowdoin. edu / japanesegardens / glossary. Html
When Yama Kaiden speaks, she addresses herself as "Atashi", which is the feminine form of "I", implying that she is weak and humble. She also utilizes lots of keigo and teinei, which are extremely polite
As for the comment about "formal and keigo", there are different levels of politeness. Kaiden used keigo, which is the most polite; the little girl used "formal", which isn't quite as polite, but still very much so. Children work their way up to keigo from casual (also known as "child-speech"), and the child is six, so formal is actually pretty advanced for her age. Also considering politeness, it's very rude to order anyone to do anything, so they always phrase anything of the sort as a suggestion-question. At least there's an English equivalent for that one...
Also, In Japanese, it is rude to use "you", so you just always address the person by their name, instead. In English... that's not possible without sounding stupid. Even so, I've tried to mimic that emphasis, so forgive the awkward wordings
Meanwhile, D never addresses anyone directly. He doesn't say "you" or their name or anything. And while this is easily accomplishable in Japanese... it's pretty much impossible in English. So just know that if D ever says "you", he's not actually addressing the person directly. For example: "What will you do?" In Japanese, it'd be 「何を為ますか。」 (nani wo shimasu ka), none of those words of which mean "you" ('cause it's implied)
For more information on the setting, you can visit this site: factsanddetails. com / japan. php?itemid=965&catid=25&subcatid=170
I picture Boushitsutengoku as being in the Matsumoto Northern Alps Area, near Matsumoto (notice the reference to fine silk-weaving?)