And then the school semester was over and there was MUCH rejoicing!
Indeed, my fans, rejoice and be glad, for I will be updating more often and you will be entertained to your heart's content! Yay! Alright so, warm fuzzes are over and done with and I am off on another fantastical adventure!
This number is for EvilVampireDucky for loving Katsumi as much as you do. There's always some apprehension whenever you introduce an OC, but Katsumi has been getting so many compliments! Thanks for the review!
Also, a little shout-out to animelover56348, you got me to over 150 reviews! I really couldn't wait to hear your thoughts on every chapter! Really, that was so cool. But those 3 things you're worried about, don't be. I really hate clichés just as much as you do. So, no worries; just trust me. I've got this.
Ps: I think you're gonna like this one.
Chapter 21: One Shot at Redemption for the Innocent
If you had told me a month ago that I would have been where I was now, I'd have hit you. Maybe broken a bone or two, just for good measure. I'd don't really like being told I could end up in feudal Japan, locked in a wooden cell, missing a month's worth of my life. But honestly, who do you blame when you find yourself looked up in a room with no windows and only one door? And you cannot reach that door because you are tied up with leather straps, hands behind your back and connected to a metal hook in the floorboards. It isn't like this is the worst I've been put through, but the odds are stacked against me and I'm not much of a positive person at the best of times.
My knees are aching something fierce, my back protesting the slightest movement I made, my chest growing stiff in the awkward position. Things could always be worse – the morning mantra of my parents. I'd been in here a solid thirty minutes. The screaming outside the door had finally dimmed – most of it between the woman who first attacked Kennon and Ganjou Purotekuto. Sometimes I could hear Kennon's deep voice silencing the woman with but a word. Every now and then I'm pretty sure Boketsu interjected a word or two as well.
But Kennon left ten minutes ago, and the only thing separating me from a gruesome trial was a frail wooden door.
I sighed, the action causing pain but I shoved it aside. The crowd that had been inflicted by an Influence swore that I had provoked them. I had attacked Kennon. Ganjou seemed like a patient and wise man, would he listen to the fifteen people of his village or me, a stranger? It wasn't like I had much to back up my case, my word against theirs. Kennon's account might buy me some time, but I know better than to put my trust in him. He looked wary – and that's putting it lightly – when he dragged me away from the training ground and into this separate shack away from the village. Hardly said a word as he tied me up and left me here, not even a backwards glance before the door was bolted.
But the ill-fated time of my demise was not yet. It could wait. I had time. So I relapsed back to the battle, wiping away the men and women, pushing aside Kennon as he prowled across the fight. The fear and the anxiety of the battle and the last twenty-four hours set aside on a shelf; I'd deal with it eventually, I promise… Darkness the only thing left, I focused on the voice that practically purred at the back of my skull.
"Ask me."
It was unfamiliar, and yet spoken with such intimacy I could not deny it. There was a connection between me and the speaker. It was small, only a voice in the thickening darkness, but it wasn't entirely useless – like a lighthouse shining through a raging storm. Focus – wasn't that what my parents had been shoving down my throat?
Alone, secluded, and shut-off I settled deeper into the darkness reaching out randomly at scattered pieces of my mind – like plucking shards of glass off the floor.
I remembered a she-demon with wildly pink hair; we circled each other, crowded by demons as they watched with bated breath. A sport? No. A duel. Yes. I had engaged in a duel with this she-demon. And from what I was remembering she was winning…
"Filth! Monstrous filth! What have you done?!" Tayorinai screamed as she clutched at her ragged strands, one side of her flowing hair was two feet shorter than the rest. "Human whore! Pathetic little rat!" I slipped my dagger away and held my katana at the ready. But my hand hurt and my shoulder was stinging madly and the rest of my arm was sticky in hot blood. I couldn't let her get another hit like that. My side reminded me that there was more than hair to worry about. She was crazy fast. I needed to say close to her, but I couldn't let her hair touch me.
With practice honed from childhood, I pushed the pain aside.
Her rage bubbled over and she screamed, "SAY SOMETHING YOU STUPID HUMAN!" Wind rushed and threatened to brush me aside like I weighed as much as a scrap of paper. I held my hands up and tried to fight it. Something warm and wet trickled down the sides of my head, but I focused on the maniacal laughter that seemed to come from all around me. The wind changed direction and with near panic I managed to plant my feet to keep my ground.
I hated that laughter.
Opening my eyes I glanced at my shoulder. There was no blood soaking the fabric there, but I remembered the pain now, a dimmed-down version of it as if it were someone else's pain I was sympathizing with. Shame I couldn't looked at my hand. I clenched both into fists. No blood there either and no scars as well. That brought a sharp frown to my face. I should have the ugliest hand in the world from that fight. She had practically ripped the flesh right off the bone! I spent a few minutes stroking my hand, my fingers, the flesh between then, my palm and the back of my hand. Nothing. Only smooth skin. Not even a cat-scratch.
Focus…sighing, and ignoring the sharp pain it caused, I closed my eyes again.
Crossed at an X I managed to stop the mass of hair but the loose strands stabbed at me in a million different places. I couldn't stop myself this time. The pain caught fire and I screamed as she ripped her hair out at a terrible angel. Blearily I watched the blood gush and rain to the floor in a puddle. I had always had God-awful nightmares of dying in my own puddle of blood!
I glared up at the she-demon. Oh, now I'm done playing.
I rushed her. Usually I don't do it considering there is little control to it, but she pissed me off now. Her sick smirk slowly melted to the closest thing to fear something like she can feel as I jumped and landed on her back. As we both fell to the floor I stabbed one knife deep into her shoulder blade, and as she cried out to call her wind I grabbed a bloody fistful of her hideous hair. When she realized what was about to happen next her sick eyes widened a fraction and I cut all her hair off.
Stunned she landed face first into the floor and I rolled off her back to stand out of arm distance. In a moment she sat up and stared in awe at the piles of dust around her. Then she sobbed. Her wet cries broke and echoed eerily in the silence of the room. She said incomplete words, her breathing hitching as she reached out to what was left of her power. I took two steps in quick, jerky, painful movements then I swung.
I could still hear the hollow thunk as the she-demon's head hit the floor when I opened my eyes. Blood, sharp and tangy, coated my mouth, but when I spit it was clear. Tayorinai. I remembered her name. And as soon as I had, it was as if I hadn't forgotten her at all. The former Lord of the East, the bitch had called me out, snarling and prancing as if the world waited on her next breath.
But why was I with the East Lord? Why had she requested the duel? Pieces were still missing. She was jealous, a blind man could have seen that much. Her rage was specific to me and something she thought I took from her. But the what – the catalyst wasn't there. I had a jigsaw puzzle laid out before me, but all the important pieces weren't there – gaping black holes that left the picture without substance.
With no small amount of effort I shoved my legs through the hole my arms made to allow my arms to lay in front of me. I collapsed afterwards, spent and wishing for a bed. Why am I so damn tired? Amnesia is exhausting, apparently. A big, four-poster bed in a stone room came to mind unbidden and I waited to see if it would take me somewhere I wished to go.
Before I could decipher the meaning of the bed the door opened, revealing Ganjou with an unreadable expression across his face. I huffed at him, unbearably tired, before I pulled my body into a sitting position. It hurt so much, the fight from before mixed with the exhaustion of missing a chunk of my life and the phantom pain of a time I shouldn't have forgotten. But don't let anyone tell you I don't have manners.
The head of the providence glared at me, an odd expression from a man with the most comforting laugh. With quick movements he grabbed the back of my neck and ripped off the bandage around my head. He got hair on his way and I cried out in alarm before I kicked him in the inner thigh. I had aimed slightly to the left, but he was out of the way before I could hit him where it'd count. The shock of hitting so close made him shove me to the floor and back away. I had a few choice words for him when he came at me again and shoved my face to the floor, I missed the metal hook in the wood by millimeters.
He moved my hair from one side to the other, his movements didn't hurt now. His fingers seemed to be gentle with me subdued and I think he was looking for something. But the only thing back there was my head-wound. The damn thing that caused me to lose my short-term memory. Five tense minutes past before Ganjou pulled back and left me alone again. Groaning I pulled myself up again. The bandage was left in a pile next to me. There was a brownish stain along one small part, dried blood. For a head-wound there was much less staining than I thought there should be. Usually head-wounds are a bitch to staunch.
Frowning sharper I realized I might have been bleeding when I meant Shinnen, but not when he took me to his village. Maybe the blood clot after the fight with the river demon? Never happened before. But when you're under pressure and running on adrenaline and…and maybe if I wasn't so tired I'd have tried harder to believe that lie. The more I thought about it the more I became certain I never had trouble with head-wounds in the past, not ones that I could account for anyway. And my memory from before my trip down the well was pretty intact. Hell, I'm a fast healer but this seemed to be stretching it a bit.
Impossible to check the wound with the angle I'm in. But there doesn't seem to be any kind of ach at the back of head like there should be. The rest of me hurts, bruises on top of bruises. But I think I'm just tired. So bloody tired. So damn, bloody tired it isn't funny. When was the last time I slept? Not last night – last night doesn't count. I hardly slept last night as I imagined Kennon creeping in and slicing my throat while Boketsu watched.
The image of the big, four-poster bed loomed in my mind again. The room was of stone, a medieval bedchamber that holds no familiarity to it. But I've been here before, at another time when I ached all over. I was nursed in this bed.
A spot between my eyes began to sting. Remembering hurts too.
So start at the beginning.
Oh, good call conscious. Why didn't I think of that?
Last thing I remember clearly was laying on my back staring up at the stars. I remembered my cousin throwing me down her well, the prank she tried to play, Inuyash the half-demon, the two humans that look to my little cousin for leadership, the little fox demon sitting on Kagome's shoulder, and their story about the sacred jewel shard.
I was tired of the boisterous group, seeking solace. The grass tickles my cheek, the only bare part on me since I have a tank top, an over shirt, and a light jacket on to hind my dueling knives. The stars are bright without the pollution of the future clouding the ozone. I remember laying there in awe in the silence under the expanse of the bright stars.
Well, that's a good, solid visual. So how did I manage to go from normal to kimono?
There was an…unsettling…presence.
…A horrible sound, worse than a screaming baby, worse than nails on a blackboard, worse than the screeching of tires on pavement rose and demolished the calm serenity of the night. It didn't stop but an echo answered nonetheless and rose to create and ear bleeding crescendo. Unconsciously I moved to shield my ears even though it would have done nothing to ease the pain.
Then I saw the creature causing all the agony. It looked like a snake, only taller than any tree and thicker than the houses of the village. Its jaw was wide and reminded me of a Venus flytrap. Complete with serrated teeth and all. The awful screeching continued, even though the monster's mouth had closed. A voice, deep and dripping with malice spoke within the sounds of pain. I barely hard it.
"I must have the jewel! I must have it! I must devour and destroy and demolish all in my way of obtaining power!"
I jerked away from the memory, my body protesting something fierce. I remembered the snake demon well and the horde that followed. Demons, monsters, nightmarish creatures attacking from all sides – the way my cousin's arrows could fly, Inyasha's brute force that caused more damage than good, the monk's spell casting. Miroku – his name was Miroku – and he was a devilish man with a hand possessing a mind of its own. I owed him a slap to the face the next time I see him…
There was a woman, too. Beautiful, powerful, with a giant boomerang. Sango, the demon hunter. The woman with the sharp eyes and the pretty little face, and the terrible longing for something beyond the hunt for the next kill. A woman I felt immense uncertainty about, all I ever lived for was the hunt.
They battled and suddenly the jewel was in my possession. I have it in my hands in one second, in the next I'm fleeing with a ravenous horde hot on my heels. After that…darkness, followed by sunshine and the sharp tang of blood on my tongue.
No. No. Not just on my tongue, there is blood everywhere. A pool of it surrounding me, chunks of demon bits everywhere – hanging in the trees and tossed about the ground, flung some distance away and laying forgotten mere inches from me. So much blood you can't even think, you can't breathe for it will taint your next breath. It congeals around my legs, clings to my jeans, stains my arms and has dried on my face.
I scratched at my neck and cheek. But for some damnable reason I felt like I had dried blood all over me.
Coughing I shrink away from the memory. Is it real? Is it mine? The movement hurts but it's a dull feeling compared to the hysteria trekking its way across my mind. The rest of the world spins and blurs and I keep coughing to rid my mouth of the taste lingering there. So much blood. And not a drop of it is mine. With each gasp I remind myself the blood isn't here now, the scent is of only wood and my own fear. The bits and pieces of demons are not within my sight, only the bare walls and the single door.
But none of it helps. I keep coughing; keep crouching in on my body. The smaller I am the less of a target I am. Before I can stop, tears gush down my cheeks. The roars of the snake demon's echoing rage drowns out the sound of my sobs, the stench of dead demons and dried blood fill my nose and mouth until I'm drowning in it. The sight of Tayorinai's strange hair and ugly face blot out everything else, no sun, no wood, no anything. Nothing left but a dark and smoothing voice…
"Ask me."
OneShotatRedemptionfortheInnocent
I wake up in the same room, no widows and only one door. But I'm not tied up anymore, and there's a bowl of rice and vegetables nearby. My stomach growls in protest. I don't think I'll ever eat again. With a groan I manage to sit up. The light from under the door is faded and flickering – fire, nighttime.
I slept the whole day?
That isn't so surprising.
The reminder of blood and death is still fresh in my mind. But things are a bit clearer. Well, least murky than when I woke up. So, really, not that clear at all. But I remember Tayorinai and I remember our little duel and that I won. I slayed a Lord – the capital "L" kind. There had been some really unhappy people about that I'm sure.
Kagome and I had been separated, but I saw her again. I managed to give her back her jewel. I went back to my own time, too. But that was a critical analysis on my part: I didn't have the jewel anymore and I had only brought my twin knives with me this first time while now I had everything.
Well, everything but my katana and one of my knives.
Well, technically I didn't have anything on me. Kennon was ordered to take everything, even my switchblade, before they threw me in here. Took my pretty boots, too, bastards.
But, there were still so many holes, so many lost pieces calling out to me I couldn't begin to tell you where to start. And not much of what I was remembering match to what I was feeling. Now that my hands weren't bound I examined them. No scars. No evidence at all that I had tangoed with Tayorinai. Not so much as a scratch proved that the memory was correct.
Was it a lie? Something someone implanted?
But the pain was sharp. I could still feel the razor edged strands ripping flesh. You don't just make that stuff up, right? Unless I'm a little more broken than I thought.
What happened to me in the last month?
The door creaked open as Ganjou and Boketsu stepped into my room. Both had a hand on a hilt, both had a hard edge to their gaze when it landed on me. Something unsettling chilled the air as they stood before me, looking down at me. My stomach clenched then dropped out of the room. Coward.
For a long moment no one said anything. And I sat there wondering how the death penalty is issued in feudal era Japan. Beheading? That would be easy, and clean. Appropriate too. Simply ironic if they did it with my own blade. Yeah, probably a beheading, public no doubt.
"Girl, pay attention." Boketsu snapped, in her matronly and disapproving fashion.
With a great deal of effort I withheld my snarl.
"Katsumi, who are you?" Ganjou started. My eyes narrowed before I could pull up my poker face.
"I thought that was for you to figure out." Keeping your voice even while you await certain death is tough work, but not impossible if you've had parents like I did.
Ganjou does not approve my sarcasm. Less does he approve of my sudden coldness and suspicion. Not sure what he was expecting when I have the two most important people of this providence with my life in their hands standing before me with caution and a hint of fear.
After another long pause stretched out before he started again, "My son says you saved him." He frowned sharply, twisting his features into something ugly – ugly didn't look right on the man with the warm laughter. "He tells me the young men and women training with him were under some kind of…" he struggled for the term, "spell." The word left a bad taste in his mouth.
I nodded, waiting to see where they were going with this before I said something offensive again. They hadn't killed me yet; so far, so good.
"Why weren't you affected by the spell?" the old woman asked.
I looked at her, weighing my words and buying my time. Finally I shrugged, "I'm not a part of this community. These kids seemed to have some sort of dislike" – and I'm using the word loosely – "for Kennon that I do not share." I stretched my legs out as I pressed the back of my head to the wall. "Perhaps that was who the spell was intended for, people who harbor animosity towards your grandson."
They stood there absorbing my testimony for a few minutes – a few long, damned minutes – before sharing a look with one other. You know the kind I'm talking about; the look grown-ups share when a child asks a difficult question, the look of two people about to lie to you. Ganjou turned toward me but spoke to the woodwork in front of me to the side of my knee, "And you jumped into the fray, disarming fifteen, highly trained people to rescue my son?"
I shook my head, "Kennon managed to do take care of most of them, I only protected his back." I smirked at the spot Ganjou was looking at, "He has a bad habit of turning his back to the wrong foe." He went for the weaklings before taking care of the major threats.
Boketsu raised one, thinly arched eyebrow then huffed, "And not a scratch to your name," she waved a hand as she gestured to all of me.
"Not a scratch," but it meant differently to me. I didn't have a single scratch on me. Not from all the scuffles in my life. Nothing to prove I was a walking, demon-killing machine. Well, nothing except the ugly mark across my midsection. That seemed to be the only mark on me.
You've always been a fast healer, Little One. My father would say in that quietly amazed voice. But he'd be examining my arm or leg as he said it; the words not necessarily to me but at me. Something to be poked and prodded and ignored. No feelings, no desires, no anything human about me.
Wow. That was a morbid thought.
Ganjou sighed heavily, bringing me back to the topic at hand. "Katsumi, you are a mystery." By the sneer of his mother this was not a compliment. "But you have proven yourself quite the extraordinary woman. First you save my son and my village from the demon poisoning our water supply, and then you protect my first born against children under a spell-caster's charm – without killing anyone from my land as well."
"Ganjou…" his mother warned.
"If not her, then who will?" Another look, full of frustration over a topic discussed with a fine-toothed comb, before he turned back to me. "Katsumi, you must understand you are in a difficult position-"
"I hadn't noticed," I rubbed the back of my neck.
"-And you have left us with little options." He sighed again, his age showing in his slumped shoulders and weary eyes.
When the silence stretched uncomfortably long again I interjected, "What exactly am I being accused of, Ganjou?"
He hesitated, giving his mother the option to answer, which she did, readily. "We live in troubled times, girl. Our lands are in constant peril from the East and the West. Both struggling to rule the last unstained human providence." She sneered down at me, but I couldn't muster up the effort to care. "Suddenly you show up, with only a name to yourself."
"And my silver, and my awesome boots. Don't forget what's mine." I really wanted to be sure they hadn't taken my only possessions as trophies.
Her eyes narrowed, "Yes, the strange blades and the dragon-scale boots. My mistake." Too much condescending grandmotherly venom is enough for one day. I think I'll stop interrupting her now.
"And now the Siren of the Forest is on our doorstep, after years of silence and peace."
I'm not sure if there are Sirens on land, their a hydro-originated species and I have never dealt with them personally, nor has anyone from my troupe. But I know the basics: they're territorial with pack tendencies – sticking to hunting in groups and living in communities. But they only stick to water. Ever.
Maybe my ancient Japanese is rustier than I thought?
"A demon as invaded our providence," Ganjou spoke up again. His voice shook with so much emotion I clamped my trap for the remainder of his speech. "She has done very little to us, made her presence practically nonexistent, but it seems she has decided to encroach upon the people who reside here."
"The river demon was one of her henchmen," Boketsu picked up, clearly unhappy that she was sharing the information with me. "She sent him here to test our defenses. With him dead it seems she has decided to take matters into her own hands." Her lips pursed for a moment, the hardened leader of old showing in the gray of her skin and strain of her eyes. "You have great skill, girl. Greater than any warrior I have witness." That must have wounded her pride quite a bit to admit.
"We believe that with your skill-set, you may be able to find redemption in the crimes against you."
That last comment stung, I snapped, "You never actually said what you thought I was guilty of." Neither one answered me. So they don't believe Kennon. Thanks anyway, handsome.
"Find the demon living in the forest, Katsumi. Kill her and free our village." His smile was sad and cold. "And then you will find peace."
Peace? When had I ever wanted peace? I wanted my damn memory, Mr. High-and-Mighty! I wanted the last month back! Hell, I'd settle with a face to that dark voice!
I don't say any of this for obvious reasons. Instead I glare at the two of them, the kind of cold and calculated stare that has been the last thing many a demon ever saw. Ganjou physically flinched. Boketsu's eyes widened. "Take your peace. I do you a favor and then I'm gone." I shook my head when they tried to jump at a counteroffer. "No. I really don't need you or your damned providence. I murder a demon then you never hear from me again. That is how this plays out." With effort, effort I make damn sure they don't see, I stand to my full height.
"I'll need my silver, two day's supply of rations, a fresh set of clothes, a map of the forest if you have one, and my boots."
So this would be one of those "Transition Chapters" where not a whole lot happens but is necessary to get from one point to the next. Hope that doesn't disappoint y'all. I mean, it is necessary. And hey, before Katsumi just did things. Now she's analyzing her own life, gaining perspective. That's nice – but we all know I'm biased.
Check it out: 2 chapters in one month! Go me! How do you like the treat of school being over? I have summer school coming up of course and 2 jobs I have to juggle, but I'll try not to do what I did this spring. That was kinda under special circumstance anyway, I had to write a 17 page paper. Well…It had to be 10 pages and just turned up being 17…
So yeah, that 5 month lapse should happen again. I hope you enjoyed the progress and I can't wait to hear from you! Review and tell me your thoughts. Even if it's something short, leave me something!