ENTRY #7

Haunting Memories

I DO NOT OWN NURARIHYON NO MAGO

Heyyyy!

I had a huge writer's block the entire fucking year, I know sounds unbelievable but even my grades suffered because of it. I got pulled out of the advance Literature course I'd been taking because I hadn't turned in half the work. It's a wonder I didn't fail it.

The preview that you guys saw in the previews chapter went to shit. So yeah, I have to change it.

Thanks always for reading guys and I am really sorry for the long wait, but hey this chapter's huge! So maybe it makes up for it a little?

IMPORTANT: This chapter is in a trial format, it has several flashbacks within it. I am completely willing to rewrite this chapter if you feel the flashbacks are in any way hard to follow or displeasing to read. Please let me know what you think of them. I'm using them to move the story along faster and they would only be prominent in the next two to three chapter's at most.


"Yura was... sad. She didn't like talking about what she had been doing or... what her plans were. She avoided people almost all the time. So, I thought maybe... I could help. She's so strong and... refuses to let any shortcoming beat her. She cried. She must have felt really alone for a... really long time. Later, I told Ryuuji, because he... always knows what to do."

- Keikain Mamiru


AGE 11

This is hardly the first time Kiyotsugu finds himself waiting in one of the many rooms of the Nura Mansion. Like most of the other rooms in which Kiyo has been allowed into, it was painfully bare, but clean. Not an iota of dust in any of its surfaces. Next to him was a low wooden table with a pot of tea in beautiful china and a plate Mitarashi dango. Kiyo had yet to take a bite of the food.

A woman with really long hair (really long hair) had brought it in mere minutes before, it isn't the first time that Kiyo saw her but he still doesn't know her name. He hasn't exactly made friends with the members of the Mansion, not by a lack of trying mind you. Normally, Kiyo wouldn't have spared a passing thought to the unnatural length the woman sported. Though, knowing in whose house he is in, led him to stare at the woman warily despite knowing it is rude.

Kiyo really likes youkai, he finds them fascinating but he is painfully aware most youkais don't like him. Nonetheless, manners have been drilled into him from attending countless high-end parties and business meetings with his parents, so he had bowed his head and thanked her for the refreshments.

Kiyo wishes he could feel more relaxed. Every time he takes a visit to the Nura Household, and unearthly chill seems to settle on his spine and refuse leave. Kiyo could compare it to the feeling of being unknowingly watched, which makes no sense. Kiyo doesn't think he's being watched, he knows it. The smaller youkai aren't exactly inconspicuous.

Kiyo still remembers his first visit to the mansion. Why, it hadn't been that long ago, maybe somewhere close to a year. He had been outside the gates many times but had been always rebuffed. He hadn't been close with Rikuo when he attended school, that had been the place of Ienaga Kana. But his harsh words that day coupled with – what he knew now, and probably had known subconsciously then – Rikuo's subsequent actions in saving their lives had dragged him to the haunted household many times.

Kiyo had been meaning to talk to Rikuo and apologize the very next day, had even attempted to rope Kana along. But both of them had missed school. So Kiyo waited. Kana returned by the end of the week, Rikuo never returned at all. There were days in which Kiyo thought Kana wasn't quiet back either. She had arrived for the first time on a Friday morning with dark shadows under her eyes and pale skin. Quieter, meeker, sharper… more broken than such a young boy like Kiyo thought someone could be.

So, he'd desisted on getting her to apologize to their wayward classmate for now. Kana needed to time to put distance between her and what had happened to them. Kiyo thought maybe Rikuo had fallen sick or gone on a trip or something. And maybe it was for the best, he wasn't sure any of his classmates were ready to bring it up, and with Rikuo's claims on youkai... Things would have to be answered.

Kana had been the one most obviously afflicted but all of them had been scarred that night, cave-in's were scary enough but being attacked by a group of youkai and then watching such a mystifying battle had done something to the children. Looking at Kana, Kiyo didn't know if it was a good thing.

Leaving Kana alone, Kiyo waited for the brunet boy to come back to class. He waited and waited and waited, until weeks turned into months. By the end of the term, there was no news on Nura and Kiyo finally asked a teacher.

"Rikuo-kun pulled out, Kiyotsugu-kun." The woman said. "His family didn't give us any specific reason, other than the fact that he's receiving private tutoring at home."

Baffled, Kiyo lost no time on tracking Nura. He had wanted to ask Kana, but the girl had hardly said a word since her return and Kiyo didn't want to agitate her any further. Thankfully enough, Shima knew where Nura lived. With a thank-you and a wave. Kiyo departed.

Something had stirred in his heart at the sight of the magnificent wooden gates. They were (still are) an intimidating construction despite the subdue and traditional architecture of the whole property. Later on, Kiyo would know it to be a youkai thing. Their essence sipped into the structure, and gave it a aura of power inanimate objects shouldn't possessed. Even humans that were not spiritually aware had enough common sense to shy away from the things they weren't meant to mess with. Kiyo clearly had been born without that fundamental part because not even his unease kept him from ringing the doorbell.

He would be by those same gates many more times, and be thrown away each. Sometimes it'd be a sweet blue-haired girl (Ah, you see, Master Rikuo is like super busy! But I'll let him know you stopped by.), others it was a blonde-haired man (You can't come in, leave.), others it was a very pretty woman with brown hair (Ara, a friend of the Young Master, you say? I'm sorry, boy, but we cannot let anyone in).

They weren't the only ones; monks, children, and at one point even an old man. They all came to open the door, but they never let him in. Almost all of them referred to Rikuo as "Young Master" or "Lord Rikuo". Was Nura's family wealthy? Kiyo had wondered.

Though his actual meeting with the boy he had searched for had been another thing entirely. Unpredictable to a fault, though why had Kiyo expected any less when dealing with ayakashi? Kiyo hadn't found Nura Rikuo, Nura Rikuo had found him.

Kiyo had gotten out of school late that Wednesday. He had been by Nura's house again the day before, but the blonde-haired man (who had grown progressively more irritated with his visits) had told him that Rikuo wasn't in. Kiyo knew most of the times that the excuses the servants (were they servants?) gave were lies. How busy could an eleven-year-old be? But he could do nothing but keep trying.

It had been almost a year since the incident with the bus, and things had finally died down. His father still insisted to send him to school via private driver instead of taking the bus. As long as the chauffeur allowed for the small deviation to visit the Nura Manor every other time, Kiyo couldn't care less.

The girls weren't as jumpy and even Kana had snapped out of the zombie stage she'd gone to. She still denied the whole affair and the only times in which she acknowledge, she used the little breath she had before a panic attack to curse the youkai that saved them to hell and back.

She had become insecure and very clingy. She scared easily, and was sick all the time. Kiyo felt bad for her. He really did, but Kana had become kind of insufferable since that day. She was spoiled by the teacher's left and right, and was always hanging Maki and Torii as if her life depended on it.

There was also the fact that, since Kiyo didn't hate all youkai for the sin of existing, Kana hated him on principle. Whatever. Thinking of his fellow classmate only served to sour his mood. Kana would eventually realize the error in her ways. Kiyo trying to tell her she was wrong only ended with Kana crying and him being punished by the teacher, which wasn't cool.

He shook his head to get rid of those thoughts. He was thinking about going over to Shima's today. They had a test tomorrow, and Shima was so much better in Math than Kiyo was. All those numbers, if there were multiply tables on hand why the heck should he have to memorize them? School was so stupid.

Those had been his thoughts when suddenly he felt it.

A chill worthy of the underworld, creeping along his skin, Kiyo became achingly aware of another presence next to him. The market was full of people, and his impromptu companion was hardly the first to pass by Kiyo or walk with him that day, but somehow, Kiyo knew this was something else.

His coal-colored eyes met crimson red. A devious smirk was sent his way as the youn youkai who had saved Kiyo strolled next to him, in a very public market, in very real sunlight without a care in the world. Kiyo stopped dead in his tracks but a sharp glance and a "Keep walking, Kiyotsugu" from the new arrival set him into motion.

"Walk towards the park, we have much to discuss." And so Kiyotsugu did. What else was he supposed to do, Kiyo didnt want to admit it to himself but he was scared. The boy next to him, despite not looking much older than himself was a very powerful creature capable of commanding a hundred youkai. Not exactly someone on the lists of persons Kiyo wanted to mess with.

But, as they walked towards the more secluded section of the Central Park in downtown Ukiyoe Kiyo couldn't quell his excitement either. He had been waiting for this moment, part of his plan had been to become a demon investigator in order to thank his saviour for what'd he'd done. This was so much more convenient. A million questions raised through his mind, the most important though, from when did the youkai knew him?

Finally they arrived at a small patch of garden hidden by lush trees, they were entering summer after all. The young ayakashi stepped away and faced Kiyo, his red eyes were scrutinising and Kiyo would lie if he said that his hair didn't stood on end at being stared by such a dangerous individual. The silence stretch for a long time, and finally the youkai spoke.

"You don't seem overly worried." He noted. "Being alone with me." Kiyo stood confused for a moment.

"Should I be? I mean, you saved my life." Kiyo said, smiling brightly. "I still haven't been able to thank you for that, if you and your friends hadn't arrived at the cave in, me and the other kids would've been done for." Kiyo's eyes darkened minutely, it really had been an awful day. He met unnatural crimson eyes right on. "So thank you for that."

"You're thanking a youkai?" He said, disbelief clear in his voice, a rueful smirk on his face. Kiyo hesitated, but the tone of the question betrayed that it was not meant to be answered. Finally, Kiyo only settled for nodding, though the other boy hardly payed attention. His mind seemed a million years away, in a instant his eyes refocused with the same swiftness as when he had became lost in thought. He smirked at Kiyo lightly.

"It is my job to exterminate arrogant vermin like that." He said. "Regardless, I hope to ask you for a favour, Kiyotsugu."

"If there's a way, I can repay my debt to you...uhhh..." Kiyo drifted off, just who did he owned a debt to?

"I am the Third Heir of the Yakuza Clan of the Nura, Nura Rikuo."

Kiyo hadn't been expecting that...

His thoughts were broken with the arrival of the Young Master of the house himself, he was waring a read yukata and stood barefooted. Even in such daily clothes he makes an imposing figure. His red eyes settled on him with their paranormal intensity in seconds. The blue-haired girl, Yuki Onna, as he had heard Nura call her before, slids shut the shoji door behind her master. Nura lost no time to sit opposite of Kiyo, his sword (which Kiyo noted never left his side). As he pulls his hand away, Kiyo doesn't miss the glimpse of white bandage under the long sleeve, not when he had been looking for it.

"What is it, Kiyotsugu? I hardly think this haunted mansion is your favorite place to visit." Kiyo is pretty sure the second statement is a question, the young heir probably doesn't put it above Kiyo to do something like drop by for a social calling. Now that he thinks about it, neither does Kiyo himself.

"I bring news. There's brewing trouble."


"Tanrou! Rokuson! Formation B!" Yura ignores the sidelong glance she's sent by her shikigami; they are inanimate existences for Kami's sake! They are not giving her disapproving looks. This is further proven when they obediently settle in the positions and jump to the attack.

They are wonderful, all blue fire and silver wind, all attack and violence. Yura has seen them both in action countless of times, but they still impress her. How can you not be blown away at such beauty? They are precisely synchronized during the drill that Yura's so tired from going over; she doesn't even think she'll actually use it in battle. Especially since it's not completed. By the time her saint beasts have settle, the dummies have gone through hell, but three are still standing.

Yura lets out a frustrated groan; she's been at it for hours. Pushing herself as far as she can go is the only thing that relaxes her these days. It's actually the only thing she does these days. Her mother is as bipolar as ever and her bouts of worry and then of cold-discipline are a rollercoaster ride Yura is not willing to be a part of. She shakes her head, looking across the training field. It's a pretty good job, not what she's expecting, but good. A sharp stab of pain flashes through her mind, she knows what comes next.

"Good job, boys"

The shikigami stroll in her directions and she must admit that they may look a little peeved, though that may just be the fact that they are vanishing slowly. She has been training all day, and since shikigami cannot get tired, then she's the cause for their annoyance. Does her skipping school bother them again? Yura lets herself fall to the ground as she sways; her stamina is still not good enough. As another exhaustion wave hits her, her shikigami poof out of existence, leaving nothing but twin figurines of ofuda floating lightly to the ground.

Yura lays in the grass, it's thick and crass and not comfortable at all but she just doesn't have the energy to move anywhere else. She's not tired enough to pass out and yet she has absolutely no energy to move. She curses when she realizes she's alone to her thoughts. She's tried to avoid that the whole day, and she doesn't want to think of that now. But, alone and weary, the tears she's been suppressing make their appearance. Yura only hates herself more for it but she can't stop.

It wasn't fair. The things they said, the things she said, the things Ryuuji said. Why was everyone against her? Did she have a giant Kick Me sign on her back? Because please, whoever's in charge of it, take it off. Yura curled on her side, but instead of comfort it only brought more crying.

"Hey, onmyouji girl! I think there's a monster in the closet, you should go get rid of him." Yura sat impassively at her desk, she wouldn't let their mockery get to her. She wouldn't.

"Keikain-san, please, there's something there!" Another girl said, and then another classmate until almost all of them were there, looking at her and asking for help. Yura missed the contemptuous glance, not surprising since she felt cornered and scared. She didn't like her classmates, and she certainly didn't appreciate any attention coming from them. "I mean, I'm terrified! Or I would be, if ghosts were real!"

"I saw one of your family members on TV last week, does it bother you that your family makes a living by ripping people off?" Another tells her. "I mean, pretending to purify houses and convincing people they're been haunted…that's so pathetic!" Yura grits her teeth. She's holding on to her desk so hard that her knuckles are white with fury.

It is always like this.

Finally, as she attempts to tackle another problem from the math homework due todday, Yura can't take it anymore. She picks up her bag, pushes by the stupid, stupid girls around her desk and leaves. She didn't even make it to first period today. She can usually manage, she'd stare the girls in the eye long enough for them to become self-conscious. They'd upped the insults at first, but would eventually leave and Yura could get through the day.

But she'd had a long night and an even longer week. Her mother had been her cold self and Yura hadn't seen Ryuuji most days so their had been no one to talk to. Stress is at an all time high. She is stuck in training, and exhaustion was running her rag. She didn't feel like listening how much of a failure she is from stupid civilian girls that will never understand how easy their lives really were. Yura reminds herself of her failings enough, and where she to ever forget, her mother certainly won't.

Just as she gets a look of the school gates, a hand takes a hold of her arm. For one terrifying second, Yura thinks one of her bullies decided to try something new and come after her but when she turns around, it is not an eleven-year-old girl but her brother's face that greets her. Yura isn't sure this is any better. Ryuuji's frowned is impossible to miss and his glare is set right on her.

"You're skipping again?" He is quick to accuse. "Have you been in school at all this week, Yura?"

Yura doesn't know what to say. She wants to yell that it's none of his business, that honestly, as a Keikain it is pointless for her to even go to school. But those are petty arguments. By law, all children, even demon-fighting ones, needed to finish middle school at the least. She opened her mouth, but what could she say?

"You can't keep doing this, Yura. Mom's gonna flip. And—" He starts saying something else, but Yura interrupts.

"She doesn't need me to do anything for her to flip." Ryuuji just glares and continues as if he hadn't heard her. Yura glares right back.

"And you're gonna get kicked out!" He tells her, pulling her back inside the school building.

"Keikain don't get kicked out." She states matter-of-factly, digging in her heels and wrenching her arm until it is free of her brother's hold. He attempts to catch her again, but she quickly puts some distance between them. Ryuuji's frown manages to surprise her by darkening even further.

"No, but they do repeat the year if you cannot pass finals, which may I remind you, are right around the corner." Keikain children aren't kicked off school. In turn for free services were the school to ever need them, absences and late arrivals are overlooked. Faculty members —regardless of whether they believed it or not— are notified as of the children familial duties.

But if Yura doesn't score high enough there was nothing from keeping her from failing the year.

"I know that and I'll pass. Like I do every year." She tells him. Already turning away, there is no point in discussing this with Ryuuji. He won't understand what she feels. Ryuuji's classmates never mess with him; in fact, they admire him.

Ryuuji has always had that mysterious and dangerous aura most Onmyouji seem to posses. It doesn't matter if his classmates believed him. They don't care. They just know not to mess with him. Apparently, Yura's own classmates didn't get that memo. It is so frustrating.

She is one of the strongest exorcists her clan had ever seen at this age; and her talent gave her a good standing position among her family. But here? In the "real world" as some people called it, she was a freak. She was just a weird girl from a weird family.

Never mind it was her family who sacrificed and sacrificed every time it was necessary for this city. That it was the "weird family" the one who fought tooth and nail for this people; to keep Kyoto clean and pure, and not tainted by ayakashi. What did they cared that she went in the search of monsters for them to be able to go sleep and not worry about them hiding under their beds or in their closets?

Ungrateful fools.

Never mind that Yura had to give up her childhood and her future for people that would never truly know how high a price their ignorance came for. Her thoughts only managed to make her walk faster, but her brother's long strides quickly caught up with hers. He was not happy.

"How are you gonna pass? Cheating? You go hunting every night, and train all evening. Any free time you have is spent sleeping or eating. When exactly are you going to study, huh? How are you gonna learn the material?"

"I'll figure it out, Ryuuji."

"Yura, are you listening to yourself? What the heck's wrong with you? Stop being an immature brat and go back to class." He ordered, but no matter his bravado they both knew he had no power over her. She wouldn't be the first Keikain child to go astray when it came to school, as long as she kept up with her training, her family didn't care. Well, her mother would. But since when did Yura care what she had to say?

"Leave me alone, Ryuuji."


Rikuo had been pondering the information brought by Kiyotsugu this morning when he subconsciously notes the smell of medicine, pollen and sake. His thoughts, ranging wildly between a course of action to the benefits of telling his dad all the way to the how the internet allowed Kiyo hear ayakashi gossip before Rikuo, were interrupted by an arrival.

"You know your mother hates when you smoke, Rikuo." Zen's voice drifts in the midnight breeze along with the chiming bells at the mansion's gate. Following his voice is Zen's silent arrival. The cherry tree gives one firm shudder as the Bird youkai lands among its blossoms. His red eyes glowing with power, excitement and daring - Bloodlust too, Rikuo notices.

Rikuo's chuckles are marked by exuding bouts of white smoke. His smirk is positively perverse, his answer dripping with amusement. It's one of those nights, isn't it?

"Only when she finds out." Is all he says on the subject.

"Funny." His companion deadpans.

He takes another long drag from the ancient pipe, filling up his hollow chest. It leaves him tasting strawberry-scented ash from within. Some days, Rikuo thinks he smokes to fill himself up with something - anything - but on others, the smoke entering his lungs only seems to accentuate how damn empty he is. He can't tell which type of night it is right now. He'll know eventually.

"Following that thought," Rikuo starts casually. "You know your father doesn't like you being outside on chilly nights. Winter is right around the corner." Although Rikuo means it as a friendly jab, Zen knows the worry is genuine. Rikuo has always been such a worrywart.

"You don't like my wings."

"No, I don't."

"It only bothers him when he finds out." His friend drawls, parroting back Rikuo's own answer. The reply pulls out a small smile from the Young Master, and with the ease of years in between both kids fall into silence. There really isn't much to say. Despite their tranquil façades, both Zen and Rikuo are equally tensed about what's coming.

Rikuo continues puffing away, taking his time to appreciate how the s

Sakura trees of the Nura mansion blossom year round. He vaguely knows it has something to do with her mother's powers, but he hasn't really asked. Huh, he probably should at some point.

The Sakura petals seem particularly breathtaking on the full moon lighting. So pink they flash silver, and for a moment they seem to be razor sharp, instead of fluffy and soft. (And why is he seeing weapons were others merely see beauty?) Rikuo lets out a smoky sigh. The night sky, despite being illuminated by the glowing satellite that they know as moon, looks darker than ever. The stars seem fader than usual, as if backing off the moon's territory. Acknowledging her title as queen of the night sky. Her reflection can be seen upon the pond at the feet of the tree as it is depicted with almost supernatural clarity.

Naturally, Rikuo thinks of Kyoka Suigetsu. He still remembers the time his grandfather showed him the technique. That had been before… that. He spent hours upon hours watching the moon upon the pond. Poking the water and seeing the ripples, standing and walking around it. Hoping it'd just reveal its secret. His prompting brought him no answer, and despite knowing the technique; Rikuo is ashamed to admit that he still doesn't understand it.

The Young Heir of the Nura lays comfortable in one of the branches, wearing a thick black yukata with a matching Haori. His laid-back attitude betraying nothing of his thoughts. A small, almost imperceptible shiver encompasses him, and makes him buried himself deeper in his thick haori. While winter isn't quiet upon them, he wasn't kidding when he told Zen the night was particularly chilly.

"Shouei is arriving by dusk tomorrow, and we'll mobilized the night following his arrival." His second in command informs, breaking the silence.

"Good. I want to wrap up this deal, before that old coot or his nutty son change their minds." Rikuo murmurs. "How many people know about this?"

"Your father, your mother, and us. Shouei will be notified upon arrival."

"I still have trouble believing my father is letting me lead the negotiations." Rikuo says, exhaling a long wisp of smoke. He scoffs softly, before smiling wryly. "I thought I'd be a hundred years old before I could do anything without his supervision." Rikuo says it lightly, but Zen sends him a questioning look. Rikuo knows that he never ever willingly talks about that night. Zen's raised eyebrow means one thing:

Does this mean we're talking about that?

Rikuo does nothing, because he doesn't know. He never wants to talk about it. At the same time, some days, it's all he can think about. As Rikuo maintains his silence, Zen speaks.

"Can you blame him?" Rikuo needs all his strength to not flinch. The wound on his arm throbs, as if knowing it is the center of the conversation. He just pulled through a nasty infection last week and the wound is finally starting to lose the angry red that had surrounded it.

"I guess not. The first time around was… eventful." As nonchalant as it sounds, Rikuo has to take a long drag from the dragon-carved pipe in order to keep the memories at bay, The pain, her face, the Rage, the lingering void left. An emptiness that he's had for so long he cannot recall life without it. The wound, wrapped in white bandages, throbs again. It's a prickling. An itch that's not quiet an itch. A small trickling of annoyance that disguises itself so well that it makes Rikuo's head spin. He doesn't know if it even really bothers him at all, or if it's all in his mind.

But the pain feels very real, and for a moment black dots dance along his vision, Rikuo grits his teeth to avoid himself from trying to follow the illusionary spots with his unfocused eyes. He worries that Zen will notice how out of it he is, but as the dizzying passes, Rikuo remembers how good he's gotten at hiding this kind of things.

Zen's next statement evaporates any notion Rikuo previously had about getting away with it.

"It's hurting you tonight, isn't it? Much more than usual." The blond doesn't meet his friend's eye, but his gaze is hard and distant. Rikuo doesn't like that he's the source of worry for anyone, but for the past year, it appears he's the only thing people in the Nura Clan want to worry about. "This ordeal has you remembering, doesn't it?" Despite the phrasing, it isn't really a question.

"What makes you think that?" Rikuo knew it was a deflection, and a bad deflection at that. He can't help it. No matter how much he tries, he can't even recall the last conversation he had about it. If he has ever talked about it at all.

"You wouldn't be outside otherwise. Not with this cold. You just recuperated from that little issue last week, you wouldn't risk getting sick again when we're leaving tomorrow." Zen says, meeting his eye for the first time since they started this conversation. "But you couldn't help a smoke, you're a true addict my friend."

Despite the humorous hint in his last statement, there is nothing light about Zen's tone. Rikuo thinks about arguing the part regarding his addiction to smoking, but then— Kana's face, and the blood on her hands and… Ash was spreading through his tongue in soothing waves. Addict, huh? Rikuo thinks, taking another withering drag from the quickly dwindling pipe. Zen may be on to something.

With nothing to say Rikuo hums, wanting Zen to drop the subject but hoping he won't. A part of him wants to talk about it, but another recoils at the mere idea. The memories are as strong as if it had all taken place just a short hours ago, instead of the whole year and a half it has been. Himself and his arm are equally as raw.

"Do you remember when we met?" Zen's voice is casual and conversational, but his question is all it takes to push Rikuo over the brink, and not even his bad habit can keep him grounded a moment longer. A blink later, Rikuo gets lost in memories he wishes he could forget. Remember? It feels like it has just taken place.

The opening of his door brings him out of slumber sluggishly. The smell that wafts in wakes him up swiftly. Rikuo's whole body tenses. In one swift movement it coils upon itself, ready to snap at a moments notice. To defend, to shred, to kill if necessary.

Yuki Onna wakes Rikuo everyday, and Rikuo knows she smells like tasteless winds and dry ice.

It is not Yuki Onna entering into his room.

In fact, now that he's looking for it. Her scent isn't close by. She should be right outside the door at this time of the day. It is unlike her to leave Rikuo alone and a pang of something aching to worry is felt briefly in his abdomen.

The intruder smells like medicine, pollen and sake. He shuts the door softly but not silently. The sound is deliberate, making Rikuo think that he's either bad in stealth or not trying to be sneaky at all. He walks towards Rikuo's bed and stands, breathing evenly. He waits a few moments before reaching for him and that's when Rikuo makes his moves. Black tendrils of fear materialized and chaos soaks the bedroom like a downpour on unsuspecting travellers.

Rikuo shakes his head. He doesn't want to remember those months. He looks at Zen.

"How could I forget?" He answer, but even he detects the shakiness in his voice. Zen seems about to reply, following the conversation but whatever possessed Rikuo to want to discuss this topic is long gone and wariness settles into his bones like a second skeleton, adhere by pain and fear and somehow he feels vulnerable and breakable and Rikuo hates feeling that way.

The conversation he had with Kiyotsugu springs to mind, maybe it won't hurt to check it out. What his dad doesnt know won't hurt him.

So, he interrupts whatever it is Zen wants to say for. "Let's go out tonight."

Zen face's twists into a scowl, he wants to talk about Rikuo's past and he knows that they should. Leftover psychosis issues are never good things to keep around. Psychological triggers can be anywhere and everywhere. But, it is one of those nights and Zen can't possibly resist and so he sighs and nods. Hoping he will not regret this decision later.

He is a demon though, how is he expected to resist something so sinfully sweet like temptation? And how can he be expected to understand something as humane as regret?

Zen watches his Master unleash his fear slowly, almost lazily. Unlike that first time he surprised Rikuo, the fear emanating from the Nura Heir is a soft wave that chills the air instead of black smoke that attacks. It is by no means a pleasant feeling. Fear isn't supposed to be pleasant. Fear is hate, unpleasantness, madness, terror: pure, unadulterated shivers.

Fear is an abstract concept, but also a dangerously real weapon. It is inexhaustible but it is not always there. It is a whip that coils itself tenderly upon it's target, one that protects fiercely its wielder; but it is also fickle when other players are around. Only those who do not acknowledge it can handle it, but in order to use it you must accept it.

Somehow, the Nura Clan Heads must accept the fact that everyone fears something - including themselves - while never being afraid themselves. Fear is a dog that doesn't follow the "never bite the hand that feeds you" agreement. In fact, it is more like an ungrateful child or a scorned lover.

Just looking for a chance to rebel, to strike back.

Unpleasant. Useful. Ugly. Fascinating.

Zen thinks many things as he doesn't resist the invocation wave that passed through him. And watches fondly as youkai after youkai —members from Rikuo's ever growing night parade— make their appearance all itching for some fun (chaos, fighting, drinking) as much as Zen. And if the glowing eyes are any indication, as much as Nura Rikuo himself, and that could be an incredible or a terrible thing depending who you were.

They will dance under the moonlight tonight.


As they glide through the night, high upon the cloudy sky Rikuo's serpent flies faster than Rikuo's mind can avoid sweet (bitter, tortuous) remembrance of a time gone past. His arm throbs and suddenly, he is reminded why he hadn't gone out in the first place.

Too late to turn back now.

His Night Parade is thrilled and hungry, bloodlust at an all time high and, despite the atmosphere and the boiling of his blood, Rikuo's mind is cloudy with memories.

"Rikuo- kun!"

"Is your heart truly a burden?"

"Zen… heir of the Bird Cl…"

Rikuo shakes his head firmly, decisively. He doesn't want to remember, he won't. He doesn't want to remember her or anything that happened that night. The following months are almost a blur and he likes it that way. Zen asked him if he remembers, Rikuo knows he does. He also knows that he doesn't wish those occurrences in the forefront of his…

Control was out of his hands. Again.

Rikuo jumped at his enemy intent on murder until the moment the blond boy at the other side of the room displays transparent, purple wings that sprout magnificently out of his back. Now, Rikuo may spend a lot of time inside but he knows what those wings are. He backtracked with so much speed, that he ended up in a heap back on his bed, ducking under the covers as his room is bathed by a downpour of incredibly detailed brown feathers.

Once they dissipate, Rikuo stood up to face his attacker once again. For the first time, he takes a long look at the intruder. The boy in his room couldn't be much older than himself. He was wearing an olive green yukata with some feather design. He had eyesso dark red that Rikuo automatically thought of wine.

Rikuo's mouth twisted into a scowl, pulling harshly at the corners of his mouth.

"Where the hell is Yuki Onna? Who the hell are you?" He demanded. The whole affair was giving him a headache he didn't need.

"What the fuck are you doing?" The other shot back.

"Excuse me for being surprised by someone sneaking into my bedroom as I'm sleeping. Now, who the hell are you and what did you do to Yuki Onna?" Rikuo yelled.

They stared at each other for a long time, neither backing out an inch. Rikuo looked almost innocent, with sleepy eyes and still in his blue pajamas. But innocent did not mean harmless and the small pulses of fear being let out are hard to miss.

Zen shook off his surprise to stare right back at the tiny youkai, his dull eyes lighted up at the challenge. His chest rose and for a moment he struggled trying to hold back a cough. If Rikuo hadn't been looking for it, he might've missed it. In the end, a glint of curiosity is born in Zen's gaze. He sighed and relented.

"I'm Zen, sole heir to the Youkai Bird Clan, currently allied to the Nura Clan. A meeting was set between me and you by your father, Lord Rihan." He said dryly, and with a more annoyed air he continued. "I'm guessing he didn't mention it."

"You still haven't told me what happened to Yuki Onna." Was Rikuo's sole reply. Regardless of who this boy claimed to me, it is strange that Tsurara didn't continued her bodyguard work. It is uncharacteristic of her.

"She was notified of my arrival and left to give us some privacy." Zen said this while calmly taking a seat at the foot of Rikuo's futon, and finally sheathing his wings. Rikuo stared at them with displeasure long after they were no longer visible.

"You don't like my wings." The Bird Youkai stated, Rikuo searched for any signs of offense in his companion's voice but found none. So he nodded. The truth is, Rikuo knew the price of those wings. Her mother's best friend had had them; she had been the In House medic in the clan. A wonderful doctor thanks to her wings, the same wings that ended her life.

Although Rikuo had been too young to suffer her death, he hadn't missed her mother's sadness. Regardless of how hard she fought to hide it. They'd had three In-House doctors since then, they had all shared the same fate. Although it hadn't been proven if the constant use of the Cursed Wings accelerated death, it hadn't been proven it didn't.

"No, I don't. Those wings are more efficient in killing their owners than enemies."

When Rikuo returns to himself he's hanging from Zen's hand. Feet over the abyss.


While Yura said that Ryuuji doesn't have any power over her it isn't exactly true, he'll be incredibly pissed at her when she gets home. And despite her attitude, Yura doesn't like having her brother mad at her. He is the closest person to her and she doesn't like to disappoint him but when it comes to this…

Yura just doesn't know how to explain it to him. Her brother is her hero. He's strong and talented, always being incredible in what he does at whatever the cost, whether that deals with their world or in the normal one doesn't matter.

Maybe Yura has the natural talent, but even that pales in comparison with Ryuuji's mind. She doesn't want to tell him that she is bullied. It seems silly. She fights demons on a daily basis, but she can't deal with a bunch of little girls? Her brother will think of her as weak.

And Yura isn't weak. She can't be. Weak onmyouji died.

And despite how her world is shaky at best, the thing Yura wants to do most is live. It is something that she recognized when she understood that the one thing her mother wanted to do most is die.

Her mother has a child that loves her, one that could've grown to love her, a family that is willing to do anything and everything for her. Yet, the one time that she draws the short stick, the one time it is her that tragedy's strikes, Yura's mother crumbles like a House of Cards.

She can't even pull through for her children.

After her father's death, Nadeshiko stopped taking care of herself, she didn't care that she was pregnant or that she had another small child that was suffering his father's passing. And it almost killed Yura, her mother had almost died in partum. And if her birth hadn't killed her, people had assumed that the post-partum depression certainly would.

But despite no will, Yura's mother pulled through. Despite every expectation, Keikain Nadeshiko's heart did not stop beating.

Some days, Yura wishes it had.

As terrible as it sounds, Yura could've lived with her mother's memories. With the retellings that people are more than willing to share. What Yura suffers the most is knowing that her mother had been an amazing woman and that instead of meeting that version of her, Yura has to deal with a bipolar and empty shell. Barely a husk that isn't even a fraction of the woman her mother had been.

Yura has always known there is something wrong with her mother; she knows that she isn't all there. But she still remembers vividly when she understood that what her mother has is something more serious that she had thought or truly grasped.

It was one of those days in which Yura was debating to choose what life she would face that day. Both uniforms lied on her bed, as they always did, when her mother barged into the room. Nadeshiko had been up unusually early, on further thought she had probably being woken by some nightmare if she had gone to bed at all. In a desperate frenzy, she had tackled Yura onto the floor, and what had probably started as a hug became a death trap. Nadeshiko, while a petite woman, was still several times larger than tiny Yura, and she was on top of her.

Yura, surprised, had screamed.

Her mother had been crying and sobbing as she choked the literal life out of her daughter. However shameful to admit it, Yura had been so scared that she had started crying herself. She couldn't breath and she didn't understand what had gotten into her mother. Adding to the confusion her chest was throbbing, suffering from an unnatural pain. She screamed and kicked at her, trying to rid herself of the weight.

She thought she was going to die, as she ran out of breath, coughing and wheezing. Right there and then, with her mother squeezing her while lying atop her. And then Ryuuji found them and he had to manhandle their mother into another room kicking and screaming. Fortunately, at fifteen, Ryuuji had the physical strength for it.

Yura emerged from the incident with a bruised rib, and scarred for life. Her mother was taken away and didn't come back for several days. When she did it took Yura months to stop reflectively flinching whenever her mother was in the vicinity, despite her grandfather's many assurance that such an incident would not take place again.

Her mother's shrieks and sobs were a nightmare not even youkai could compare to, the crying of the broken. The image of her older brother –who was barely taller than their mother– wrestling Nadeshiko off from Yura was burned into her mind. Right along with the painful rainbow of colors that had bloomed in his cheek by a flailing elbow, gained by his trouble.

Her mother had always been scary and strict, but she'd never been dangerous. The worst part is that she didn't want to be dangerous, but her mother didn't have any self control at all. In the rare times that she was happy, she was a 100% happy; when she was scared, she was terrified; and when she was angry, she borderlined on psychotic.

And there was no predicting her moods or controlling her reactions.

It scared Yura, how the smallest of things set her mother off.

Muffled footsteps pull her from her thoughts. She thinks it is Ryuuji, the sun is high enough that school must have let out already. And Yura knows her brother isn't the type to "cool off" until his piece is said. But it is Mamiru's taller and broader figure that casts a shadow over her.

Silently, Mamiru takes sit in the grass next to her taking a couple of seconds to admire the destruction from around the training ground. Satisfied with the grasp of his surrounding, a necessity for all onmyouji so ingrained that is carried about even while in the safety of home.

Immediately, her fellow onmyouji's eyes pinned her, and Yura hates how they make her stomach churn. Despite, how embarrassment and slight guilt are cropping along her gut, she refuses to let him know his weighing stare has any sort of effect. Not hard, considering Yura is trained to fool creatures that can smell fear.

Mamiru is a better and a worse scenario than Ryuuji.

Mamiru is never belligerent, not even when introducing ayakashi to their death. (and how can someone make death look passive?) He is also infinitely more resilient, unlike Ryuuji who gets easily frustrated and tends to guess what Yura's problems is more times that he listens to them, Mamiru has an iron clad patience. He could sit their the whole time Yura is, and then follow her and do the same thing to wherever she leaves next.

And if he doesn't get anything out of her today, he'll do it again tomorrow, and the next day, until Yura can't take the awkward, tense silence another seconds and explodes in a magnificent show of her mother's famed temper. Ryuuji only asks Mamiru for this when he is serious. Which means that he's really not going to let the matter drop until Yura starts giving plausible explanations for her behavior. Mamiru is the easiest way for her to crack.

How could it not? He just sits there, next to her with a look so intense Yura almost feels her skin tingle, almost as if it wants to catch fire any second. Brows only in the slightest of frowns as if he was mad but not at her. Eyes filled with such honest worry and determination that it is painful to see.

Well played, Ryuuji. Well played.

"Would you leave if I told you to tell Ryuuji that it's none of his business and that I'm fine without his help?" Her older cousin only shook his head. "Would you believe me?"

Silence. Then another shake of his head.

Yura didn't know if she wants to sigh, or curse or scream or just close her eyes and wake up at a point where she is old enough to deal with her life.

"They…" She starts, turning bright red. She can't believe she is about to confess. A part of her entertains the thought of lying. But what is the point? She will keep skipping school and while she can probably (and that is a huge probably) fool Mamiru, she has absolutely zero chance of fooling her brother.

Maybe it is the realization that she is cornered.

Maybe it's Mamiru's patient silence.

Maybe Yura's just exhausted of keeping it all in.

Whatever it is, Yura takes one gulp of breath and then tells her surrogate brother everything. She tells of the mockery and the bullying, of her difficulty in class, of her mother, of her sleepless nights, of hours upon hours of training. Yura feels naked and vulnerable and feels her age for the half an hour it takes.

It's not everyday Keikain Yura feels eleven-years-old.

They say that talking about one's problem's brings freedom and can alleviate the person. Yura doesn't know if she feels alleviated. But she certainly feels drained. Mamiru, sweet, dangerous Mamiru doesn't appear to have any commentary to her story and honestly, Yura prefers it that way.

And so, Yura leans back into the grass from were she has sit up to talk. She lays there contemplating her brother's reaction to what she's been hiding. Would Ryuji even care? Would he dismiss her? Would he laugh?

Yura falls asleep long before settling upon an answer.


Zen notices when his Boss' back muscles go slack, and he needs no other signal.

Rikuo's remembering. In a flash, he reaches the head of the white serpent fast enough to grab his best friend's hand, stopping his descent.

Well, this hasn't happened since a long time ago.

The Nura Boy is exactly what Zen thought he'd be, except he isn't.

When the Second Commander talked to him at his home regarding his son Zen thought of him as an arrogant spoiled child, probably fairly strong for his age, and with a sense of duty a mile long. He'd be stubborn and hard headed, only able to think in a straight line. He probably had a hero complex and he would be cranky due to pain over all that.

Then, Zen actually arrived to the Nura Complex. He had been there before, once. If there was one way to describe the place it was rambunctious. Noisy. Wild. Yet by eleven o'clock a.m., the property is as silent as a graveyard. Zen didn't get it.

The place was unrecognizable. The silence deafening.

A woman was waiting for him by the door as he got off his carriage. She had creamy skin, barely hidden by a revealing kimono. She had long hair and bangs in a ponytail, the same coffee color of her wide, almost sleepy looking eyes. She smiled and bowed.

"Welcome to the Main House, Young Master Zen" She said. "I'm Kejourou, Head of Staff." Zen bowed in return. "Please follow me." With that she started walking in the direction of the house.

The few servants that pass by were subdue but not sad, as if they were under orders to be quiet. They bowed swiftly when he passed them but no pleasantries were exchange.

"It's… very quiet around here, Miss Kejourou." He said, almost hesitant to voice his concern aloud. Kejourou's gaze saddened.

"It didn't use to be like this." She started, while guiding him through mazes of halls. "Our master has been really down, and due to the issue with his human side, he has trouble sleeping around the morning. The entire house keeps quiet in fear of disturbing him."

"That sounds bothersome." Zen said. "Having to keep so many youkai quiet for your Master's beauty sleep." His tone was only slightly irritated, slightly.

"No one has to." Kejouro explained patiently, walking ahead of the young heir. Her back was straight and fit, swishing hair giving a glimpse to the strong muscles just beneath the skin, to the erotic dipping of the shoulder blades. Her tone was achingly condescending.

"What do you mean?"

"They do it of their own accord. The Master is this house's cheer. He's playful and joyous, he's kind but he's also strong. He's always looking up to the older youkai and he takes special care of those who look after him. He embodies what the Nura clan stands for, protects those around him; especially, those who have trouble protecting themselves. He is still but a child, but he will grow up to be greater than he's predecessors, that much is easy to see." Kejouro continued, never disrupting their even pace.

She irradiated admiration, and possessiveness. Zen had heard that Main House Youkai were completely ensnared with their leaders but this was ridiculous. When she continued her voice was endless shades darker. "Or at least, it used to be easy to see."

Zen wanted to ask what had happened; the unnerving loyalty reeking in the older woman's words had captivated his attention. It had him think of this Nura Heir in another light. Zen wanted to see the veracity -or the emptiness- that lay in the Hair Youkai's words. But before he can ask, someone else interrupted.

"Kejouro." The owner of the voice was a man Zen recognizes on sight, the Second Hair's right-hand man, Kubinashi. He came to a stop in front of Zen's guide and stared at him curiously over her shoulder.

"Kubinashi, this is the Bird Clan's heir, Zen." She said formally, the blonde dissected Zen with such intensity that the young heir feels his wings stir in dissatisfaction. He doesn't like feeling as if he is being examined under a microscope, Kubinashi may have been a legend but Zen was a youkai heir. For what purpose was he being analyzed? "He's here for…"

"For Lord Rikuo." He interrupted, pinning Zen down with a chilling stare. "Let's just hope you do better than we did."

Who was Nura Rikuo to have so many people worried about him? Was it because he was the Young Master of the House? Hardly. Hereditary positions rarely cemented such genuine loyalty in youkai. Zen decided to wait and see. And see he did, because when he ended up accidentally surprising Nura Rikuo. The only thing his fellow child seemed worried about, was the location of the Nice Snow Woman who had been at his door.

Even when he introduced himself as a fellow Clan Heir, which should have brought to Rikuo's attention the utmost necessity to treat him with the highest respect — Rikuo would need his support and approval to take over his family's empire one day — the boy was dismissive, because his priorities lay elsewhere.

And then came the most shocking statement. The Young Nura, in an act of brazen honesty or unsurpassable stupidity, told the heir of a clan who held the highest regard for their wings that he dids not, in fact, like them. To Zen's own face.

Nura Rikuo said he'd rather suffer, than let a friend endanger himself to heal him.

Maybe Nura Rikuo wasn't what Zen had thought at all and suddenly the desire to help him was something more than a mere task given to him by his superior. More than a burdensome responsibility placed upon his young shoulders.

It was a worthy goal.


IMPORTANT: This chapter is in a trial format, it has several flashbacks within it. I am completely willing to rewrite this chapter if you feel the flashbacks are in any way hard to follow or displeasing to read. Please let me know what you think of them. I'm using them to move the story along faster and they would only be prominent in the next two to three chapter's at most.