Minor character death and some violence, at the end. Be cautious if you skipped the violence in the last chapter.
No-Face cast a brisk glance out the window. It was a calm, beautiful night, with little flurries of snow cascading from the snowy gray sky. Shimmering icicles hung from slender branches, and the alabaster plains sparkled like a field of diamonds beneath the moonlight. It reminded No-Face of one of those painted winter nights, serene and hauntingly beautiful, as if standing in the middle of that snowy field would either bring you to safety or adventure, and you'd have to go there to actually discern that answer.
No-Face reminded himself primly that the snow wasn't ordinary snow and that the cold outside wasn't the ordinary, much-awaited cold of winter. It was all a byproduct of the Dark Spirit's freedom. A wave of nostalgia swept over him.
No-Face shook his head slightly. Don't give up. Sire Daisuke brought hope with him. The Lady had hope. Haku had hope. Lin and Kamaji had hope, and Chihiro had hope, too. They all envisaged a clear, bright future, and if so many strong-willed persons believed, then there must really be hope in this dire situation.
After all of this is over, No-Face thought with forced brightness, I may have a chance to go and find out more about myself and my family. Zeniba did say once that it's possible that I wasn't always a no-face.
No-Face set the kettle to boil and sprinkled one of Zeniba's homemade teas, withered green leaves with vanilla and cinnamon, into the bottom of a large, empty ceramic cup. The tea smelled heavenly without the aid of steaming water, and an appreciative smile flashed across the shadowy spirit's face before it straightened itself to his typical neutral expression.
The kettle hissed shortly, and No-Face removed it from the burner and poured a generous amount of water into the cup. The tea's scent strengthen deliciously as he lifted the cup, apparently immune to the radiating heat as he pressed his palm against a hot ceramic side, and idly admired the gracious view from a cushioned windowsill.
Ever since Zeniba left for the Imperial Palace four days ago, No-Face was left to be the protector of the house. He hid it behind his usual meek demeanor, but he was initially displeased that not only such a responsibility was forced upon him without his consent but also because Zeniba didn't even offer to show him the Imperial Palace, not even from some distance. But he soon realized that he was being flat-down unreasonable: Zeniba was now a trusted adviser of the queen, and such a critical time was no time for luxuries. Besides, leaving a witch's house unattended was a fatal move. With everything from weathered books to pristine potions hidden practically in every corner of the dwelling, the house was a chest filled with exotic treasures inside.
And No-Face was the protector of those treasures.
No-Face was certain that the days following Zeniba's leave would be horrendous for the most part, with numerous attacks to spirit away a magical antidote or, say, a valuable manuscript. He was relieved, though, that Zeniba took the platinum seal with her to the Imperial Palace so its presence no longer endangered the place with its presence. (The platinum seal was a recent invention made by Sire Daisuke which was ten times as powerful as the gold seal – it was made for the sole purpose of causing the drift between worlds that would pull the Dark Spirit into a parallel plane). He was certain that the house would be burned to the ground by now if Zeniba didn't take the platinum seal with him. However, except for a skirmish with a mischievous swamp sprite, everything so far was peaceful. He was beginning to hope that there will be no real attacks, because despite his monstrous origin he wasn't sure how much he could protect without turning into a monster himself.
Hours passed swiftly, and before long the sky was lightening up with the first signs of morning as stars twinkled out of existence. The first rays of sunshine broke through the canopy of pine and naked trees, slowly gifting the world with its shiny golden tint that would increase tenfold in a matter of a few hours.
No-Face took the sign of day as time to sleep and sharply wrung a wet cloth, twisting the fabric over and over in his hands before it was nearly bone-dry. Nonetheless, he hung it on one of the bare clotheslines, picked up a bucket full of brown water, and flung it outside through an open door. He cast a quick look at the shady trees around him, nodded to the lantern who waved friendlily at him in return, and briskly shut the door.
He wondered for the umpteenth when Zeniba would come home.
He drew the curtains together to block out any signs of daylight and ceased all lights by muttering a little darkening spell. It was almost pitch black, with only the tiniest slivers of light making it through the windows' cracks, but he knew his way around well enough without light so he moved around the room, fluently avoiding objects, swept down an empty corridor and entered his bedroom. It was dark there, too, with a narrow bed in clean blue sheets and a cabinet blanketed in darkness.
No-Face was about to get in bed when he heard it: a low, beastly howl.
He froze for a few terrifying moments and then, with a deep shuddered breath, forced his stiff legs to carry him over to the one window in his room. He parted the curtain slightly, just a crack big enough to see through with a single eye, and his brain screamed with realization the moment his invisible, lifeless eyes met with a perfect embodiment of horror.
A monstrous wolf, more like a werewolf in appearance. Its giant-like muscled build was covered by thick sheets of sharp, gray fur, and a pair of wickedly glowing yellow eyes swept the cottage hungrily. Steely claws were sunken into the frosty, soft earth, and a breeze blew gently at the wolf's form silhouetted by the dawning sunlight. It smiled a sinister, calculating smile, as if judging from what angle it was best to ransack the house.
No-Face let out a grunt of dismay as he hastily backed away from the window. This was no ordinary spirit, not even some wicked ghost that was rumored to haunt abandoned areas. This was a monster from the Dark Spirit. The worst type of monster there ever was, and the type of monster that could turn the entire household into a pancake in two minutes flat. He flattened his trembling hands against his legs and, without bothering to select a weapon, practically barreled out the half-closed door and flew unceremoniously into the darkened living room. It was brighter than before, but he felt the bruises forming on his thighs from hitting something too many times.
Another howl resounded from outside. No-Face briefly wondered about the wolf's intentions for causing the noise before he began to chant every protection spell he knew. He felt the magic pulse through the air and shield in the house in multiple layers, and for a fleeting moment he felt the wolf's presence, intimidating and belligerent, slowly cower from the show of protection. Then it dashed at an inhumanly fast speed.
CRASH.
It all happened so fast, that there was hardly any time to react. Even if there was, No-Face could never imagine the disaster about to follow. The wolf barreled into the door, and it shattered at impact as if it was made out of fragile glass instead of sturdy wood. Splinters flew into the air, and No-Face threw both of his arms to his head out of pure instinct. A moment later he saw a coffee table crushed, several of the clotheslines were laying on the floor, and fire. Dozens of flaming tongues erupted from debris, swallowing it up in mere moments before hungrily going to the next flammable victim. A shudder ripped through No-Face's body; the contact between the "highly concentrated" magical energy and the wolf (who undoubtedly had something like that of his own) caused heat, and now the heat turned into fire.
The house was burning, and there was a villain standing at his doorstep nonetheless. There was a fire he needed to quench and a monster to fight. And do both tasks quickly, before either could flourish into a full-fledged catastrophe.
All of that thinking took exactly two seconds. Almost as soon as the flames began engulfing strayed objects hazardously, No-Face lurched forward and swiped at the beast with his own clawed hand. Blood spurted out from the deep scratch, but the wolf attacked back vigorously as if the pain in the arm was nonexistent. It knocked No-Face back, right on the fire-infested floor, and he gave a withering groan of pain as the flames burned through his shadowy cloak and licked painfully at his back. Yet, he noticed in semi-joy, he succeeded in quenching some of the fire. He quickly murmured a fire-quenching spell, and a fraction of the flames seemed to evaporate into thin air.
The next moment, the wolf was on top of him, exposing his blood-dripping canines in a nasty snarl. No-Face threw his arm over his face protectively just as the wolf attacked, thrashing him around like a helpless prey in between painful strikes. No-Face felt his innermost monster tickle his brain, and he fought against it as much as he thought the physical beast on top of him. He knew what would happen if he will surrender to his temptation – the Bathhouse incident was more than enough proof. The world around him turned hazy and his focus zeroed on his two opponents, both equally abhorred.
"Let me help you," the mental monster said as gently as it could in its gravelly voice. "I am you, and you am I. We're one, and together we're unstoppable. Why don't you let me in so we can win?"
He gnashed his teeth against a searing pain in his right arm and threw a powerful punch with his one uninjured arm. That hit was strong enough to break another person's jaw, but this hit only made the wolf flinch as if dealing with a nuisance. I'm losing, he realized, feeling the smoky air hitch in his throat. He quickly muttered a spell that succeeded in distinguishing half of the fire, but the remaining half quickly spread like a plague. He only succeeded in buying himself a little bit of time.
"Indeed you are losing," the monster continued. No-Face felt that he was losing that battle even more than the other one; the mental weakness caused him to tremble. "Let me come. Let me come and whisk you away where you won't need to lose anymore; let me help you, let me be with you, let me possess you so we can strike justice to the horrendous monster in front of you."
Temptation … what a beautiful thing.
Suddenly, he felt his veins bulge under the pressure of thriving blood. He felt his mask grow hot and solid with rage. Thoughts, hostile and unforgiving, swelled in his head. How dare this beast comes to Zeniba's house, he thought. How dare he comes and destroys it – how dare he shows his presence anywhere NEAR this house! He'll pay, he'll pay, he'll pay –
No-Face felt herculean strength sweep into his possessed body full-force. He bathed in it; he was it. Every wispy, ebony cell making up his magical shadowy body hummed in reply to the zips of electricity. Now there was no meek spirit and an inner monster as two separate beings; they emerged into one, forming No-Face – the No-Face – who was born into existence in a single perilous moment.
He relished the strength, which was the gift instead of the curse his opened Pandora's box gave him. He grasped the wolf above with both of his hands, immune to the shot of pain bolting up his wounded arm, and flipped it over as easily as if it was a feather. Then he pinned the monster against the floor and stood over it. His lips curled into a cruel snarl and a shadow of the fierceness he felt settled over his mask.
Suddenly a groan, ominous and terrifying, rang over the room's chaos, and both spirits looked up in alarm at the ceiling. Fire already crawled over some of the beams, destroying the wood mercilessly like an accursed plague. A wooden beam above them rocked dangerously on its loose hinges, creaking and groaning wretchedly as it rocked, and then it was falling from the ceiling.
Panic kicked in, and with lightning-fast reflexes he did not know he had No-Face pushed himself off the ground, leaped out of harm's way, and sprawled across the floor just as he heard the beam crunch where he stood moments prior. He pressed his spinning head against the ash-covered floor and bit back a fierce sob.
He lost control. He gave into his temptation and hence turning into a monster, like he did in the Bathhouse. He opened his version of Pandora's box and was overwhelmed with the curse he, and other no-faces, were forced to carry. Because of that, Zeniba's house was burned, all of her potions and records were destroyed, and Zeniba …
Sobs of shame and self-loathing racked his body. After all that she did for him, after sheltering and caring for him for years, he let her down so hazardously, stripping her of everything she ever had, the one time she depended on him. And she was so certain that he would be the perfect protector …
"So you defeated my pet, after all," a rough voice growled cruelly. "Congratulations on such an achievement."
No-Face looked up and saw a transparent form of an unearthly hideous creature. Its fur was as black as coal, and it ran up and down a misshapen body which seemed to be made more out of jagged rocks than flesh. Its tail, long and thick but split into two at the end, slapped the ground, and it had the most horrifying pair of burning red eyes.
"Ah...ah?" No-Face murmured weakly as he struggled to get up to his feet. He looked around and saw, much to his surprise, that the fire was no longer burning. There was no sudden gust of wind nor an abundant volume of water to quench the fire, but not even the tiniest flicker remained. Only two halves of the house, one burned to the ground and the other in the sorriest yet standing state, served as proof of the fiery catastrophe.
He shivered uncomfortably. Who, or what, could cause so much fire to disappear miraculously in such a short period of time? Even Zeniba couldn't do that, and she was one of the most powerful witches in the Spirit World.
"Oh, I have many names," the creature replied casually, flicking its crimson eyes unsympathetically over the crumbled house. "Many dark words are synonymous to me, but no matter what they call me they all fear me alike."
No-Face was shivering now, even though he felt fairly hot. "Ah... ah …"
"How quick you are," the Dark Spirit commented sarcastically. "Of course it is me."
No-Face clenched his hands into fists. "Ah, ah, uh?" Why are you here?
"Bonus points for bravery. Most run away screaming or, if I don't let them leave, begging for mercy." It gestured a thick paw, which miraculously didn't scratch anything by the sheer size of those claws. "And yet, here you are, asking what's my own personal business."
No-Face felt dread sink to the very bottom of his stomach. Something in his mask must have shown it, because the next moment the Dark Spirit threw back its humungous head and laughed out a growling laugh.
"Surely, I'm not that intimidating, am I? This is a mere projection of me, not the real me!"
Then it looked at the fallen body of the wolf with almost a fatherly tenderness, but in the moment any traces of grief were gone. "I have sent it for multiple reasons, and one of them was to test you," it said easily, as if speaking about the weather. "At least the werewolf served the purpose before it died like a loser."
No-Face was too tongue-tied to say anything.
"We have met before, you know. You were a very … strong-willed person back then, despite your age," it added matter-of-factually.
No-Face's locked jaw dropped open in pained shock;
"Actually, I think you are still strong-willed. Lots of your character changed, but your will-power didn't. To be one of your kind, not turn into a monster, and be where you are now … impressive. Truly impressive. Of course you had the help of your sister, but you still deserve a chunk of that credit."
A gust of confusion ejaculated a horrified groan from the trembling spirit.
The Dark Spirit's eyes narrowed maliciously, even though its tone was still mockingly light. "You'll have answers to all of your questions soon enough."
No-Face took a shaky step backward and looked up at the dawning blue sky. The sun was now higher than the trees, sending its golden warmth worldwide, and he felt a pulse of hope. If he could hide in the forest …
Swallowing down his dread, he spun around on his painful feet and darted in the opposite direction. He crossed the remains of the house in three large steps, fled through a gaping hole in the wall, and practically flew over the wide stretch of snow. He ignored the pain of burns and wounds; he ignored the exhaustion replacing, flourishing energy he felt only minutes ago. He told himself to keep going one step further, to push against his physical boundaries and break through, so that he'll find refuge in the shady trees ahead of him where he'll be bound to have all the rest he needed. His hardest efforts did prove to be fruitful, for right when he was certain that he'll faint after several minutes, he was only a meter or so away from the delightful trees. He could practically smell the snow, taste the morning oxygen in the air …
Suddenly something yanked him backwards unceremoniously, and his bruised feet let him fall to the ground. Snow bit him with its coldness, but for a moment he couldn't climb to his feet. It was as if his entire body was paralyzed from head to toe, and no amount of brain orders could get him to twitch a muscle.
"Get up," the Dark Spirit snapped in a tone as hideous and hard as itself. No-Face suppressed a shudder without giving it much thought and, much to his surprise, stood up without saying a word. Then he bended his back to give a respectful, sweeping bow, and his jaw remained locked against the cry of anguish threatening to rip the air. Again, no amount of thinking made him do the tiniest movement. The brief feeling of panic was overcome by enlightenment: the Dark Spirit was controlling his body, so now he couldn't do anything at all.
"I came here after the platinum seal," it said. A clawed hand swiped out and jerked No-Face's head so that he was looking straight into those fiery eyes. "Where is it?"
No-Face's pursued lips smothered a horrified gasp. The platinum seal was a recent invasion made by Sire Daisuke, and it will cause the drift between worlds that would zap the Dark Spirit into a parallel world. It was exceedingly powerful, even more so than the gold seal.
But the words were out before he could stop them. "The platinum seal is no longer here, sir."
How is it possible that I just spoke in a voice?
The Dark Spirit sighed exasperatedly. "That's of no use to me, you pathetic no-face! Did Zeniba take it?"
"Yes." Again, the reply was involuntary and automatic.
"Where is it?!"
No-Face imagined him clenching his jaw, biting his tongue, anything to keep himself from speaking again. He imagined the worldwide catastrophe it would be if the Dark Spirit got its hands on the platinum seal. He imagined all the lives that would be lost and the hell that would be everyday life. He drowned in shame, feeling more traitorous than every act of treachery ever committed in history and put together.
Surprisingly, his mouth remained shut.
"You don't know," the Dark Spirit observed dryly. "Very well, then; you can be of good use to me some other way."
The next moment, the world seemed to fall around them, and their bodies dissolved into millions of tiny atoms swirling in nonexistence.
I hope all of my readers had a happy Christmas and an equally happy New Year. I hope 2015 will be a better year for all of us. Again, thanks to all of my readers for reading and especially to my reviewers for reviewing! I hope you liked this chapter and I would appreciate it if you gave a moment of your time to type down a few words of your thoughts. Till next time! :) :) Rebellion-10: Thank you very much. I'll try. :) NarutoSwag99: Okay, thanks for input of opinion! In case you were wondering, this chapter DOES NOT indicate added chapters; we are, henceforth, nearing the end.