Hello. New chapter? So sorry it's been taking so long to get these up, but the teachers decided to dump an assload of work on me, and my sister got it worse. I could barely get on the computer to actually do my homework, like I'll actually be able to edit my original stories or write fanfiction…T_T So I'd had resort to simply reading one-shots every once in a while. Don't worry though. This is one story that will never be abandoned. :) And school's over now (gazing lovingly at my middle school diploma) so I should be able to write more. Summer band starts on Monday though...expect the most updates during July, cause in August I've got marching band.
Sorry to keep going on like this, but I've heard that there is a hacker going around deleting accounts (two I know have already vanished). Does anyone know if this is true? I know there was one in 2009, and I think back in 2005… *Afraid*
Let us begin!
The house was quaint and simple, no fancy decorations but for the odd photograph here and there. The man ignored Wakana's staring as he led her through the humble abode. He was completely unsociable, unsmiling, and shuffled so quickly Wakana had to jog just a little to catch up with him. With his back turned, she stopped and took a good look at.
He wasn't really much, with a round face and a drag in his left footstep, causing him to limp heavily. His thin salt and pepper hair was balding in the front, his face heavily marred by wrinkles and a long thin scar across his chin. Abruptly, he stopped, and Wakana bumped into him.
"My daughter and her husband sometimes stop by and stay with me; this is their room. You are not to be going in here," he commanded harshly. Wakana smiled and nodded her consent.
"Of course…" she paused and looked at him expectantly, chewing her lip when she realized she had not even had the courtesy of asking his name. Or even introducing herself.
Then again, that tiny, mean part of her whispered, the Ossan didn'teven give you the opportunity.
"Oh! Forgive me! I'm Okinamachi Wakana," she said, bowing respectfully, looking up, clearly expecting his name in return.
He merely harrumphed and limped on, not stopping or looking back as he spoke.
"Mizaki Takeshi. Follow, let me show you where you and your mother will be staying."
=0=
As Wakana dealt with Mizaki, Kokoro had reached the town in no time, heading back from the local school registration, happy, a rare feeling for her nowadays. She fingered the thin chain around her neck. She walked up the haunted hill with a bounce in her step, stopping to look at trees and wave at people as they came out on their porches to enjoy the afternoon, now that it wasn't ridiculously early morning. After almost being run over by a careless teenage boy on a bicycle, she had taken to walking by the side of the road. Eventually, the pink and purple and green trees faded into darker, more somber colors as she neared the base of the mountain. The houses became fields, and the people lessened to nothing until she was walking by herself up the dusty path. Her pants were light brown, the same colour as the dirt, where they had been dark blue washed out jeans before. Her short hair tickled her forehead.
And suddenly, her walking slowed, and her big dark eyes; identical to her dead daughter's, fell half-lidded. Her fingering of the chain stopped to nothing and the slim, rough hand with the dirty fingernails dropped lifelessly to her side.
Come here, a voice she didn't know was speaking to her whispered.
Across the street, surrounded by the rough dark trunks of the two close trees, stood a beautiful man. His looks were almost unreal, and blurred. Though Kokoro did not see such miniscule details in her impassive state.
As she crossed the narrow road, her hand rose and fingered the chain much more roughly, in a desperate sort of way as she stumbled and landed on her knees at the images feet. She mumbled under her breath, grasping at the shadowy, wispy legs. Though under control, that last bit of rationality screamed with fear.
"I-I should have been there. Shouldn't I have?" She breathed out, mumbling things and curses. Her gaze was focused solely on his knees; she did not see the thick black coils of mist rolling off his shoulders. Nor did she see his malicious smirk.
"Oh…I'm so sorry for loosing her."
Perhaps, the tiny bit of rationality remaining with Kokoro, she knew something was wrong. But the effects of the yokai's fear and the post-martum depression had effectively shattered any rational thought the woman might have had.
The yokai tilted her chin up, looking at her glassy-eyed gaze. He smirked viciously, and then smiled gently and comfortably.
"Would you like to redeem yourself? The one you had lost will be pleased."
Kokoro had a sudden bad feeling, which was soon crushed by the yokai's fear. She nodded, and bowed, her forehead touching the ground as she had not yet risen from her knees. "Please grace me with your name, I am Okinamachi Kokoro."
Long, soft hands reached down and pulled her chin up to face him.
"You may call me Amano."
Obediently, she stood, chain slipping from her grasp to rest between her sizeable breasts, a small round pendant that clicked open visible. Two pictures, both her daughters, lay in the locket.
"Yes, Amano-sama. Let me redeem my sins Amano-sama. I must do so."
With shuffling, dead footsteps, Kokoro satumbled into town with a phantom. There, halfhearted, she bought a ticket a hopped on a bus, a phantom walking behind her with wicked footsteps, murmuring quietly into her ear.
=0=
Unknown to the yokai, a long red arm dangled from the branch of the tree where the encounter had occurred. The akateko wriggled away, hand leading and forearm dragging after. Something was up. Its master had to know.
The long red arm scrambled through the treetops, elbow stubbornly hidden in the treetops as it passed hundreds of arms identical as they dropped systematical down from the trees when it passed by. The trees rustled loudly with their movement as they writhed with their awakening.
After an arduous journey to the top of the mountain, it hung limp at the egde of the bare clearing. The darkness was stifling in the viney area. The bright red hand flicked its wrist carelessly and suddenly, a small piece of paper fluttered down to the ground, with a vague message.
A sharp contrast to the bright red hands now surrounding him, an oldish yokai picked the paper up deftly, skimming the message, no change of expression coming across his face.
A pest on the mountain, it read in thin, wispy handwriting that looked as iff the brush had barely touched the sheet. It is looking for your approval.
Closing his eyes, Gyuuki placed the paper on the ground, watching through the barely open slits as it dissolved in the eerie wind.
=0=
The room Mizaki had shown Wakana was somewhat spacious, yet bare. The windows were actually intact, though spiderwebs shined in the corners of the frames and walls. Two flat mats were folded neatly, along with bedding and thin pillows. Boxes were piled up against the wall adjacent to the windows, and the floor was a gray hardwood. She threw her arms out and spun in the room, the empty space of it exhilarating. The quiet air settled.
Mizaki had left her alone in the room after scowling and ordering her not to open the boxes. As if what was in them would interest her anyway, but she had merely agreed obediently, just to appease the unpleasant man.
She ran to the corner of the room (ah! To be able to run! Inside!) and flipped out her mat, watching a small amount of dust flung off the thin mat. Just looking at the bed, a feeling of exhaustion came over her in waves, and she flopped down on it, unmade and everything, and fell into a light pleasant sleep.
Said unpleasant old man was watching the forests going all the way up Mt. Nejireme. Though there was no breeze to speak of, the treetops waved as if moved as if they were hairs on a brush when one runs their fingers hard over the bristles, bending and folding. He sighed, the sound near inaudible in the rustling of the trees.
Mizaki gazed down at the flowers and plants the young girl –Wakana, was it?—had left scattered on his porch. Ignoring the mountain for now, he turned tail and headed into the silent house.
Through the thin doors, from down the small hallways, he could hear soft feminine snores.
Talk about pathetic, he thought, she comes here and falls asleep. Kids these days.
Of course, there really was no reason to blame the young woman, he just needed something t occupy his mind. Even though he loved this mountain, life on the base of Mt. Nejireme could easily get a little dull.
He breathed heavily and shuffled to the kitchen, dragging along his bad leg and carelessly throwing open a cabinet and grabbing a small jar of tea leaves, putting a pot on the stove to prepare himself a cup. The shuttering of the leaves outside intrigued him and he looked outside again.
Gyuuki.
Ever since he was a child and his father looked down on him and told him the terrifying tale of Gyuuki, and told him firmly, don't go into the forest, Mizaki had seen the trees wave unnaturally in a dark, ominous breeze whenever something happened on the mountain. Especially the young teenagers that dared each other to go to the top at night. Rarely did these daredevils return, and oftentimes, they were witless and shivering, begging and unknown man, seen only by them for mercy. A fair few of them were injured too.
He feared the yokai on the mountain. And he knew there were more than one, for he had seen several, red hands that dangled from the treetops eerily, and beast claws that came for him when he tended the forest in the evening time. Viscious howls often tore through the night, lulling him to sleep.
What a shame, for such a beautiful mountain to be tainted by such vengeance. And now he was alone; his wife, gone, children long since abandoned him, opening his doors to random girls and women who begged for shelter. The truth was, he didn't think he could carry on anymore, walking all the way about the mountain, tending to various tasks.
These girls, they would stay for a day, promising to aid him, and then run as soon as night fell and they had the unfortunate luck of staying awake to hear the yokai wake.
=0=
Kokoro stood in front of the mirror of a dingy motel bathroom, fixing big hair and applying generous volumes of makeup to cover up her dingy flaws. The one who had introduced himself as Amano stood behind her, hands grasping the bare shoulders of her torn up shirt, which exposed as much skin as possible. The sun was setting outside of the room, steadily turning the light filtering in from the bottom of the door darker and darker until she was standing in shadows. She was barefeet; her big dirty sneakers to the side of her, shoved carelessly under the sink. 'Amano' stroked her hair carefully. She looked back at him with dull eyes, though a dark twinkle was visible as she awaited his next order with eagerness.
And that's that! I'm so sorry if you're a bit confused; all will be explained later! So now I end up introducing OC's. I'm sorry, but they are necessary, as they don't offer us much on Wakana at all! Sorry there isn't much RihanXWakana in this chapter, but I promise you there will be a lot more once they officially meet.
I apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes, I literally typed this up this morning in 45 minutes.
And also:
I AM SO SORRY FOR THE MIDGET CHAPTER THAT THIS IS!
Really, I make you wait for a month and then I give a midget chapter? Why me? I swear, that there will be no more insanely long-ass waits like that, it was the end of the year, I'm so sorry...I'll try to make them longer, can't guarantee I can. *Rubs chin thoughtfully*
Poll for title will be up until the next time I update; then the title will change. Please don't forget to vote! Or if you're anonymous, tell me your vote in a review. Simple as that. Please. So far only three people have voted...
Until next time~
YellowWomanontheBrink
