Ku
I learned early on not to take my kitsune form around Machigai. Though it did not always go badly, I had no control over my emotions. I wanted no control over my emotions, but still, some whim of mine made me want to keep her alive. I felt like I had to prove—to Father, to my sisters, and especially to myself—that I could do this. So I always took my human form around her, and years passed. All went well.
I noticed, in this time, that it was difficult to keep a shape other than my true one for long periods of time. I could keep a human form for about a month fairly easily, but after that, it would grow exponentially more difficult each day. At a certain point, the strain would become too much, and I would burst into my kitsune form, full of impatient and unreasonable anger. I would then turn on anyone or anything that moved, and my nine tails would whip out, crumbling walls and ripping chunks from the floor. It would sometimes be hours before I could calm myself to any extent. It was more than my usual transformation; I seemed to lose consciousness, awareness of my being, and later, it was only with much difficulty that I could begin to remember what had happened during that time. When I would first calm a bit, I would survey the wreckage in confusion, not realising that it was me who had caused the destruction. When one of my sisters finally told me that it was my doing, I would throw back my head and laugh, my raucous hilarity echoing off the walls. What a trick, to do this without even realising it myself! How delightfully strange!
It wasn't until I returned to human form that I would even wonder about Machigai. She seemed to have tremendous luck, for she survived many such mindless rampages, though she did break her arm once. Not many children could fare so well being raised by a demon.
Though Father had said that she was too human, Machigai proved to be an extraordinary child. She learned to speak early, and to crawl, and then to walk. She neither cried nor smiled much, she was solemn and inquisitive, and a fast and determined learner. And, unlike me, her curiousity was balanced out with good sense. She seemed to know instinctively to stay in the corner of the cavern where she lived, away from my sisters. And, though I knew it was impossible for a small child to be so intuitive, I got the feeling that she knew that I was more than I seemed, although I had stopped taking my demon form around her by the time she was a year old.
She grew to be a beautiful child, too, inheriting her mother's china doll face and large, gentle eyes. Her face was softly rounded, but she soon lost her baby fat and grew tall and thin. She kept her soft grey hair cropped short with a knife I brought her, but she was always feminine looking, even as a small child. Because I seldom took her out to the human world, her skin remained a proper noblewoman's pale shade. Altogether, she had a definite human beauty about her.
When I would take her to the surface, to the human world, Machigai wouldn't frolic about like most children, but rather would stare at everything fiercely, with an almost unnatural focus, as if she wanted to absorb as much of the trees and sun and flowers as possible before returning to the dim cavern. Sometimes, she would sit quietly for hours, just warming herself on a rock or watching the wind sway the tree branches. I knew from my observations of humans that this was unusual behavior for a child, and I wondered if, despite her pleasing face and startling intellect, there was something missing form her essential makeup, or if her brain had been somehow damaged during one of her falls as an infant. But other than these long, motionless silences, she seemed fairly normal, so I didn't worry.
I didn't worry much about Machigai. I was calm around her, measured, and careful, for I had extraordinary strength, even in my human form, but never gentle. It was not that I in any way deprived her; I was just cool, matter of fact. I wished to keep her alive, I had no reason to do her harm, but I was her caretaker always, never her mother, so I never spoiled her or cooed over her. She was well provided for, but never to the point of excess. She would be my legacy, but not my daughter.
I could never tell if Machigai thought of me as a mother. She was difficult to read, an enigma, a conundrum. She seldom spoke and never laughed. So, despite my keen powers of observation, I lived with her for years, and never knew who she really was.
It was difficult, more difficult than I could have imagined, to keep my true form a secret all those years. To spend most of my time in human form confused and disoriented me at times, and gave me severe mood swings at others. These intense emotions often caused me to change, pushed into demon form by my exuberance or fury. This happened a few times during the time I took care of Machigai, but I was usually able to run away from her before I changed, and then change back and return before my sisters ate her.
Then, one day, when Machigai was about nine years old, I completely lost control. I grew so enraged over some jibe of Ichi's that I began to change, right there, in front of Machigai. I had enough self-control left to slow the transformation, but not to delay it. As my chakra bubbled over me, morphing my body, Machigai let out a gasp of surprise. This somehow angered me, and, whirling on her, I swiped at her, scoring four deep gouges across her chest and face, breaking the china doll.
Underneath the blood, her breast still rose and fell, but the small part of my brain that was still conscious of my actions knew that if she was still in there when I finished my transformation, she would not survive. And I wanted her to live, though I couldn't quite remember why.
So I scooped her up in one half-hand half-paw and threw her. I threw her up, out of the cavern, to the surface, to the world of humans. Away from me.
And I never saw her again.