o o o
Celebratory trumpets augmented and fireworks whirl pooled the blue night as reverberations of excitement stomped valleys, filling humble homes of folk with laughter. The cosmic-sized festivities summoned daimyos, who waged plundering freeze and blistering heat to partake in the investiture. The night bristled, and the swirl of stars failed to sparkle. From the palace, they trembled in black, through a sinister web of frost and above corroded rivers in another corner, the same stars wrestled anxiously to shine.
They hadn't been gone long, but the journey seemed to trudge a month-long pace at least. The front rider sized the monochromatic mountains and forest and peeked a glance over his shoulder. "Think you can hang on another fifteen minutes? There's a small town ahead. We can stop for the night and continue in the morning."
Fifteen minutes was quite the feat, a treacherously late realization as she shriveled to fetal position and tumbled off the horse.
"Yuki!" Takuma turned and dismounted.
She curled and curled, whimpering from searing slithers of unstoppable pain that cut and tore through her chest. A cold hand, trembling and pale, clenched into a trembling fist. Her eyes watery from the recurring rifts, squeezed the dimness of the passing world.
He gathered her around the shoulders and hauled her up. She slumped, having no comparable strength or will. "We overexerted ourselves and our time looking after you," Takuma rambled, the iciness of his tone bitter and blacker than the wind harrowing his lustrous hair, "What's happened to you?"
The huntress was wilder than the arid desert as her screams shrilled out the echoing chasm of the guttural wind. She was naught of thought or full of words and hoarsely whimpered, "Hurts."
Takuma unhooked a pouch and bent over his knee with the offering, "Sip on this, it'll take the edge off."
She took her head away, cringing from another curvature of roiling pain, "The night I left grandmother queen's palace, it flared up," She raggedly disclosed, "I don't know why it's starting again."
Takuma prodded the pouch earnestly, "You'll feel better after trying this."
Against her better judgment, she digested the contents with a mechanical swig. Blood drops inked her lips, erased by a cold fist. The drink did not alleviate the pain one bit, and although it was expected, Yuki grew restless and upset. Takuma took notice of her growing ailment and made errant jerks of the head as he led them quickly to town. He purchased a night's stay easy at the only inn and led her from the vicinities of wagging tongues and rootless passersby. She was surprisingly agile in that he escorted her to the rooms and held out superbly the minute the sliding door engaged in the lock before she melted on the floor with a shocking lack of sustainability.
Takuma readied the pouch as soon as she shrank back, clutching her chest. "Do you have better ideas?" He frowned guiltily and eased her against the wall as a means of support.
She had revealed a less appealing side to the men of the Ichijo house, and to continue with the theme damaged not only her pride but the propensity to outdo her previous milestones as a prominent hunter, if she ever hunted, that is. Judging from the manners of the noblemen, they were eager to shove her in a hovel of Kurashiki, never to be noticed or found, which was alarming as it was irritating. She did not know how to live under someone else's conditions. Tragic enough it was to not continue hunting, she knew about the tribulations that would ensue if she forced her way through the doors of the Hunters Association, or dare she, pull a harmless fight in the markets.
They hadn't touched the borders of Kurashiki and already she tumbled from a mysterious reaction. Holding an Ichijo noble in attention could never endorse her best interest even if she hoped it would. She wanted to hide underground, jump inside a well, behind a sliver opening of a cave or let the ocean swallow her in its abyss.
She did not know yet or how, but it was all she could do. "Let me deal with it alone." Yuki passed a pale hand on her perspiring forehead.
Takuma shook his head disdainfully, "Not for a minute."
"Give me privacy." Her favorite order was effective on Zero, alas, the silver-haired hunter was not here. She was met instead with a stubborn glare from the conscientious nobleman.
"Is this the time to rule out help over pride? Have some sense." He chided but not after plaguing suspicion severed higher conscience from a guilty heart. He knelt on her right and gripped her hand, "I'm not leaving your side. I promised to get you home." His justification was sound, and the huntress withdrew from an oncoming argument by clenching her eyes shut.
The next time she opened her eyes, he peered fast into her face. His eyes glowed from fiery fear, a consequence of theories he spent outlining deep into the night. Wedged against the wall, she sat up but another ricocheting light of pain chiseled over her shoulder. She sagged in defeat, a mess of unresolved will and commotion of emptiness that could not and would not dwindle like the fragile moon in the morning light.
"You've been going in and out," Takuma observed through the slit of his eyes. "Have a sip of blood wine." He held the cup to her lips.
She grimaced before dutifully sampled the sweet blood and relished in the thrill of intoxication for a nanosecond.
Takuma remained hunched, elbows on knees and eyes narrowed in excruciating interest.
Yuki restrained emotional exertion and closed her eyes. The stiffening in her posture indivisible to the hardness of statues and stone walls.
Her silence was ample. With undeviating heaviness, Takuma stood in ponderous gloom. His gaze sterile but skeptic upon the tight-lipped huntress and sat behind the floor-table that managed the weight of weapons, pouches, cloaks, and parchments. His eyes scaled her twice over and closed in the submissive hymn of truth quivering from the furrow of his brows as he waded through the riddle for the fifteenth time.
"I wish I didn't have to say it, but it can't be helped," Takuma whispered sadly.
Her brows twitched and one eye winked in his direction.
"The reason you're in this condition is clear. It does us no good hiding anymore," Takuma folded his arms and met the expression of tacit displeasure across the table. "I've dug proficiently on blood bonds to say this and I mean it with inclusive fairness that—" His lips flattened in jaded Ichijo grimness, a familiar rendition of the intimidating Grand Marshal, Asato Ichijo's frown, only younger and gamely on Takuma, "It serves you right. Good that it hurts. I didn't take you for someone who scams a man of compassion, among other emotions. I admit I considered you better than most women, but you had to do it."
"Exactly why," Blurry-eyed and obviously indisposed, she swayed with each syllable trickling her lips, "Or what have I done that convinced you to look down on me?"
"How often did you take his blood? Little difference it makes considering you're receiving the repercussions of the exchange. Blood bond is intricate and best suited for mutualism, to strengthen your power and increase your survival. By the look of things, you gained, and he lost. You have the power to bond with the donor and ran away. Then it started hurting, didn't it? Now it's starting again."
She closed her eyes, hugging the spasm of pain peeling the grainy wall of her chest. Scalding torch jammed and twisted in the flesh of her heart.
Physical pain ends. This is incomprehensibly ongoing.
All like words she pondered over the sinister year of captivity under the Toma clan. The nagging and ritualistic agony wrecking her chest remained constant. She lived on the verge of death, not in sentence, but a giving noose from life. Numerously she cursed her Aristocratic abilities that seemed heinous in pushing her through waves of captivity. That year there might have been a passing moment, a second, where she held the pain in her heart like a combustible ball of hopelessness and thought it wasn't really her own heart breaking. The noise and scratch marks fumed into white mist, and tears trekked their solitary voyage down her cheeks in response. How could her heart beat when she was as good as dead?
"Because the farther you go, the louder his blood screams. You're barely trenching the leftover feelings he's experiencing." Takuma's voice singed the contorting mess of her mind.
Sharply, her eyes opened to gauge the vampire who no longer spoke in quizzing riddles. "Does it ever end?" A faint and innate part of her knew the answer but she decided to hear his.
At the spark of hope in her eyes, Takuma's will shook. The taut determination of Ichijo blood, fermented with years of harsh scolding and snubbed indifference by his patriarchy let him master irregular emotions bereft of Ichijo men alike, and yet he managed to keep his heart, mind, and soul open for the mere occasion of living a fuller life. But it was in this reverberating moment he felt emotion bubble in the socket of his throat, his eyes softened and his lungs gave out.
Oh, Yuki
He sighed beneath a longwinded pause as his lungs hankered for air.
I'd sell the Ichijo army to the Toma clan if that meant you never learn the truth.
The secret was not the answer, but it gave Takuma impetus to swallow his desires and endeavored to light the wick that had gone out. Shadowy illusions could never quell the ache and mocking stars never appeared to the blind. "Depends on your level of intimacy." He quietly gave in.
Yuki kept a solid hand on her chest as if preventing it from beating too fast. She wearily peeked around the room they shared, surrounded by the hollow dance of firelight, the distant chorus of vagabonds outside, and the piercing ring of reality the blood bond she shared with a pureblood, as well as the war waging the zenith of her simple world where she didn't have to mind others. While it was easier, she could not withstand turning a blind eye to the literal pain festering in her body due to said pureblood. The nagging pain watered her head in mantle-like heaviness that she couldn't salvage strength or logic, so she sat soundlessly in the corner, propped against a wall in hopes of redemption. Doubtful it was. All she could do was sit and let the pain gnaw through skin and bone, nourish on her boundless soul. Perhaps one day it would eat the rest of her.
Intimacy, a requisite of blood bond. A strange notion to Yuki who hadn't lived near enough to vouch for its depths because she was no wiser than the last drop of sake melting out of the bottle, and she hadn't near enough sense on bonding with a pureblood. The fear of abandonment and contempt paralyzed her heart from beating. It was not overdue or too late, but it was acknowledged she was wounded and reacted out of those wounds sealed by the lack of mother's love. Kaname had been right. He earnestly meant well.
As a mortified Yuki wrapped arms around herself and lingered in the sigh pooling out of cold, hungry lips, she decided she wasn't near enough compatible to bond with a pureblood. She browsed the room for her blond companion, mute in hysterical gloom by himself and found it strange to tumble on such an incredible topic with the man who looked nothing like the prince of satin brunette hair and whose voice revolved the room in silk warmth.
Intimacy was not obscure than it sounded. It was coming undone, layers shredding to ripples of wonderment and velvet laughter. Sometimes breathtaking, but only between lovers and companions drawing closer. As far as Yuki understood, she and the prince were neither. Out of sheer goodwill, he acted on charitable triumph, while she did not know better than fill the cave in her belly. Pure instinct. But now she was to live out her life incapacitated by the intensity of separation and fail at aspiring another blood bond with a different vampire in the future—a girl could dream—a life mate, a mutually conclusive union—all because this separation flooded a pain so deep and dampened her soul. It was…
Cruel.
Yuki Hanako - once noted and obtrusive huntress of the Hunters Association, sole daughter of Kurashiki lord, Haruka, and renowned royal, Juuri Kuran, irrepressible blood sucker of the official pureblood crowned prince - laughed. Not full of jollity and pleasurable motivations but the hysteria of misery was surprisingly well-found. Her hand firm against her chest as reverberations of laughter tickled the catching breath she struggled with. Her eyes large and foggy from suppressive fatigue and the gravity of her choices.
Looking up at the sound, Takuma's mouth flattened in seamless surrender. Without a guarantee or promise of what was to come, he regarded the foolish girl who was not worth taming or fighting and felt waves of sadness shatter the adolescent barge of patience and empathy he reigned. "Did I miss something?" He asked.
Her lips rode back and forth in a waning, frolicsome smile as she acclimated him on the anguish awaiting her. "I'm going to die painfully. Stick a knife in me already, I can take it. But this is preposterous. Don't you resent women flocking pretentiously toward him?"
Resent, Takuma did. He resented any ill attention toward Kaname. The wise and foolish, together, would agree. Courtesans were sifted like rice in water and a meager were remarkable and apportioned to the palace. Of that handful, even fewer held designation to serve the pureblood. But Kaname was never eager to distill attentions and favors upon them, as they were falling leaves in the autumn sunset, who were trained on detachment and fairness and advised to preclude relations with males around the palace. That part was clear, but it wasn't why Takuma resented women circulating the pureblood. Kaname deserved so much more—deserved better. As ravishing as geishas were, neither could they level his depths or carve an iota of sentiment to light his cavernous mind. Kaname was darker, needy and indifferent, timeless and ongoing like the universe, and it would take a woman of another dimension to satiate a fraction of his abstraction. So, no geisha or washed up princess was suitable, Takuma concluded.
He spied Yuki out the corner of the eye, a frown engaging his mouth, locked. He was certain Yuki did not harbor any or minor positions in regard. Being generous and soft mannered, providing a starving vampire like Yuki with blood was considerate of Kaname, at first. Except he continued the behavior time and again, as a token of affection or concern one could call it. One logical reason posed worthwhile that she was Juuri-sama's biological daughter—the ripple of tumultuous frustration loosened into slithering white and Takuma came to terms with the situation. Yuki technically ranked among the elite as half royal, blood of Kaname, a body outside of his, tied closely to his heart. The answer seemed plausible to a degree. Takuma bleakly regarded the simpering girl.
She was bound to Kaname eternally. He now streamed her narrow plows and governed channels of her moving body. She could feel proud to be close to the crowned prince, but Takuma swore he knew better. Though she was trouble, she did not want trouble. She was no more than a foolish free-spirited, fire-spitting, hard-headed huntress who'd drunk from a pureblood to stave off hunger.
o o o
Kotaishi Kaname Shinno received his investiture early evening. Fireworks rained over the crowded palace. It would seem the festivities would unfurl for days to come and it was no surprise the most jovial and exuberant were the pureblood king and queen. The Kuran clan were amiable to travelers, primarily purebloods that came to bow allegiance to the heir-apparent. Done without coercion or fear, they toasted and boasted about the forthcoming success Kurans harnessed, which would ultimately raise their status and finance. The common reason to support powerful purebloods was the return in investment, and since the Kurans accommodated purebloods firstly and satisfactorily, their loyalty remained reverent and true. If the question was about a clan's safety, samurai force could be obtained through meticulous connections. Like a lot of deals between prestigious clans, the Kurans remained consistently at the core, followed by houses: Shoto, Toma, and lastly Ichijo. Several clans were accounted for, but the ties of power were carefully laced between the four.
The bird with three limbs lost significant muscle followed by the Tomas departure and it could only be repaired by a clan of equal or ideally unsurpassable power.
The ceremonial robe was already stifling despite the boundless layers of silk. He made no adjustment or gesture to show his discomfort. His eyes rose from the double doors bolted with gold metal. An unlatching of locks echoed from inside, and the gate shifted free to allow the new member. The division was appropriately sealed upon his entrance, and the leeway to embark this new trajectory suspiciously turned bleak.
The floor was garnished, a foggy luminescence trickled the floorboards into shadows. Kaname planted his feet and absently took a gander of the foreign chamber that was an amenity of the king. For a secret room, it was distinctly cold, a chill rolling as a poisonous snake's tongue against his skin. The rich softness of the rug left depressions of the king's footprints who stood regal as a beaming eagle, proud and resplendent under the encapsulated moon in the surrounding firelight.
His first time in the chamber did not weight much of a welcome. Kaname waited as the king turned his gaze intently, a contest of unmistakable demand and tolerance.
"One day you'll inherit my throne. This chamber room is infiltrated by crowned princes and kings solely for the purpose I'm about to reveal to you." Shigeu passively glanced over his shoulder.
A wooden tray cradled by two carved poles appeared past his sleeve. Inside of the tray lay a gold sheath, conspicuous and heavy for the average samurai to wield in battle but not approximate for the convention of battle.
Shigeu lifted the gold sheath and motioned toward Kaname in agile steps. He only looked up after Kaname was directly in front of him. "There are myths about this, but I prefer keeping it to myself. This item was passed down to my father, whose father passed it down to him and so forth. One day this too shall be yours. Do you know what it is?"
Kaname's mouth flattened by the second under the unruly glare of the sheath. "I would be honored if you educated me one more time, Ou-sama."
Shigeu clasped the heavy gold determinedly. His jaw set and crimson eyes turned grim from thought. "When I was a boy I was enraptured by its beauty. Then I saw my father wield it. Not until the one hundred thousand army was annihilated from a single swing did I realize its true power." He turned his wrist, the motion wound a rippling spark from his thumb and index finger. "The first Kuran to drop from heaven wielded it to rule."
Sharply, a blistering force of light struck, exposing a long sword, brighter than the moon above, teething the gold hue of the room with burning white. "Only blood of blood can harness the 'Light of Heaven.' "
Kaname shielded his eyes behind a hand.
"A normal person is unable to invoke its power. Several attempts to steal was made, I've kept it here for safe keeping. Now I give you permission to explore and make this room yours." Shigeu rewound his wrist and the light disintegrated into noiseless silence. The sheath remained empty and stale in his light and gentle grip, a complete retraction from its unbridled intensity.
"Thank you for your generosity," Kaname replied.
"I can finally share the responsibility of the crown with someone trustworthy. Like the Kuran legacy, you must guard the weapon with your life." Shigeu advised. "I took your word to become crowned prince and heir-apparent to heart and you didn't let me down. You'll have to bear heavier burden hereon. I haven't formally prepared you for the task. Any future error on your part is my lack of guardianship and I'll bear the consequence as it comes."
Kaname lowered his head heedfully. "I yield to you, Ou-sama. I am here to deliver my best."
"I'd like to see what your best is. Do not seek to be the perfect and kind leader. Be a balanced leader. Know when to be just, when to be understanding and always seek stability. I understand your heart is not up for the task, and it's selfish to demand you to relinquish any endearing and important aspect of your life for the crown, but if you don't, your suffering will be great. A king's legacy suffers when he suffers. His bleeds on his own people." Shigeu returned the sheath on the tray.
"Thank you for your counsel, Ou-sama." Kaname whispered without looking up.
o o o
Night unraveled and the distant cervices of the world pooled with white stars. The road turned steep. Several travelers passed them by, most rejoicing and singing about the pureblood's investiture ceremony. The breeze was lush and the bed of crawling roses drizzled at the hazy contact. Their horses crept toward the estate as Takuma turned over his shoulder to inspect his silent traveling companion.
In Kaname's manuscripts, Kurashiki was center stage of optimum relations between humans and vampires. The class system was nearly absent. Almost every citizen was employed by lords. Starvation and sickness were correctly prevented. The merchants sold rice, cotton, and oil; produce was exported by canal to the next town. Medical clinics were free. Though vampires roamed in abundance, the needs of the humans were efficiently fulfilled, and local breweries only supported blood donations from the healthy. The office of the Hunters Association performed at an ideal of vampires like Zero and Yuki who trained to hunt from an early age, those that were born hunters, and strong credible humans. According to the crowned prince, the city was economically and socially equipped, and the man behind the curtain was the commendable Lord Tsunamasa.
A mixture of thrill and nervousness corroded his composure. Takuma dismounted the horse and began to approach Yuki. Despite her troubling state, she was dexterous enough to descend on two feet. Her expression was withdrawn. Through the expansive courtyard, doors shifted, and a figure appeared momentarily. It peeped in remote inspection of the midnight gloom, finally registering the new horses.
Stepping out of the curving roof, Zero peered into the limits of the white-blue hue. His eyes widened as his breathing staggered. She stopped mid-way on looping the horse's reins. Her eyes polished by a rim of surprise and restrained pain. The reins plummeted to her feet that rocked in a slithering run across the skittering gravel.
Takuma felt the wind swarm and whip his left cheek.
She dove for him, but he was already catching her around the back and hugged her tightly in a nerve-wracking fold. "Zermm—!" Yuki was shaking as her pale hand clenched his collar.
Zero's grip tightened around the noticeable thinness of her frame. Her short hair fluttered against his closed eyelids. She trembled harder and a sob quivered the back of her throat. His fingers grasped short, tragic snippets of hair as he cupped her bony cheek. "Let's go inside." Zero led her dazedly through the front door.
The foyer was a blur and the singe of the fireplace replaced the salty burn of tears. Yuki was pulled indignantly in the wide living room that had disorderly hosted a gathering of sort prior, but the evident marker was the staple red chair in front of the fireplace, the seat where her irreplaceable father and lord of the house resided.
He turned abruptly at their storming footsteps and slanted into a trembling jog as Zero glided into view. At the end of his hand stood a gasping, tearful brunette.
Thinner, paler, but definitely her.
Haruka was shoving aside Zero urgently. She ran willingly into his open arms. Zero retreated as the lord sobbed in his daughter's hair and she on her father's shoulder. He fumbled against his moist cheeks and rubbed them dry by a sleeve.
o o o
The king's command was law. Now the law required Kaname shadow his appointments, join the council, appear at public administrations, and resolve the power struggle between the houses Kuran and Toma. It was unlikely of him to announce the answer without mandated and justified search. While Kaname was incredibly intelligent, he was cautious. Before springing to assumptions and blind faith, he wanted to understand the true colors of the houses.
Despite their minimal population, the Kuran wielded pureblood influence over relatively all vampires. The level of power was hazardous, and that gave impetus to share power between Shoto, Toma, and Ichijo. Kaname did not care to research the skeletons of the fair-hearted angels that were the Ichijos, each one appealing in character as they were to the eye. The Lord of the house had been the king's trusted counsel for innumerable years. To spend eternity together fighting the many faces of traitors and humans, their deep level of friendship was, to say the least, indestructible.
As small and fragmental the Kurans were in number, the Tomas were grand in contrast. The more secluded Kurans became, the Tomas doubled in number – hence – power and forged military networks and a host of armories, banks, and fabric businesses. Their financial pockets ran deep, which attracted feeble and starving humans as accomplices. Their drastic overpopulation revealed more half-purebloods than claimed. Almost every street walked a Toma, Kaname believed, no soil was left untouched by them. There was no house large enough to fill the gaping sea of their political prowess. Lord Toma could undoubtedly find himself a mountain or an island to dwell for the rest of his days as he dismantled the royal house brick by brick.
There was also the mysterious house of Shoto. The king rarely disclosed about the clan who were powerful and unique to the nation, as well as vampires. The clan was the heart of hunters but trusted a tolerable amount by the Kurans, including the grandmother queen.
Fumiko raised a brow at the luminescent stature of six foot three inches. It maintained upright and rigid as the very mountains eclipsing the sun in the afternoon. "I am surprised," She murmured and debated after a deep breath. He continued to be upset with her custom of handling the tragic subject of 'Yuki' and was not done coldshouldering her to his heart's content. "You came at all."
"I was entrusted to find a solution to our ever-growing problem. You're the one with sharper memories and better eyes than shadow-spies." He faced the window, admiring the powdery sweet dusk of orange and lavender caressing the clouds. His dark eyes remained focused in an uninterrupted daze as a wrinkling breeze brushed the collar of his white shirt and bangs of hair.
Fumiko did not retort, but curled her fingers around her teacup and sipped in silence.
"Now, tell me, or I'll be forced to use my own methods."
"You cannot infiltrate my mental barrier, although, I'm willing if you are." The proud grandmother queen joshed, however, she suspended her laugh at the nerve-racking glare directed from her grandson.
"I had better ideas. How about marching to the Shoto house and inquire on his welfare? I understand no pureblood lord, commander or guild leader – hard to keep count of the names he goes by – would turn away the respected grandmother queen."
Her chest tightened from turmoil. Indignation clawed the caressing softness of her elegant and iconic features. Her red eyes blackened, and the corners of her lips transformed into a sharp black wire, cutting the lower half of her otherwise youthful visage. "You'd be surprised. He has little time on his hands."
"How unbecoming for a pureblood." Skepticism snorted back from the unturned pureblood prince.
"I know you've inherited a load on your shoulders. The Shotos are better off left alone. We'd do ourselves a disadvantage swinging an ax down our own legs."
"Every pureblood of high command bowed to me yet Ou-sama continues to hold Lord Shoto in high esteem. You claim he's our comrade. Why didn't he show at my investiture? Had another pureblood been absent, Ou-sama would not have tolerated it."
"You cannot be upset over missing the lord. So, he missed your investiture, big deal. You're not close anyway."
"Why is Ou-sama cryptic about the clan?"
"Your father is a rotten boy who refuses to listen to a word of caution or anything I have to say. He's as wretched as you." Vexation swirled up her nostrils, fuming out of her ears, Fumiko muttered under her breath. "Does it look like I always know what he's up to?"
The prince's blank stare blazed in silent accusation.
"Ugh. Alright—fine," She waved as a heaving sigh of guilt whimpered out of her, "No one tells the Shotos what to do, not even your father."
"All clans swore their power and loyalty to us."
"Except for the Shotos. They 'tolerate' our family. Rest assured they do not desire the throne."
Kaname leaned against the sill of the window, an arm snuggled across his chest in a drooping fold. "You misunderstand my inquiry; I won't be threatened when another pureblood tries to claim the throne."
"That's a relief since you're tasked to protect it. Your father and Lord Shoto are very old acquaintances. He was your grandfather's taisho, and he is the only person your father has ever feared."
"Are the Shotos whom we know them to be?"
"I have known the lord my entire life. I can vouch for him. He is a true force of good if he wants to be and has shown us greatness one time too many. He is imperishable and once tempted he has an impeccable ability that can make Lord Toma's antics seem like child's play."
"I can find immeasurable iotas on Tomas and Ichijos. I cannot find a fragment on his clan. Either Lord Shoto cares a great deal about his reputation or he lived an unimpeachable pureblood life." Kaname voiced dryly.
"Are you doubting me?"
"You lie without blinking."
The remark sawed through her and did her blood run cold; her mouth hung agape.
Kaname averted, "If you say he is honorable, I guess I can take your word for it."
"Hah! You honor me so." Fumiko rolled crimson eyes heavenward, "Shotos created hunters. Kurans created vampires. There was a period of unending rifts between hunters and vampires until your father converted the Hunters Association to support the crown."
His eyes narrowed, "And Lord Shoto let him?" Kaname waited.
"Yes." Fumiko mouthed and sipped her tea.
o o o
To stand before the individual pertinent in the city's transformation left him reeling in awe. He soon began to tremble out of nervousness and thought quickly. "Y-you have a lovely home." He felt the words themselves shiver from laughter in the darkening hour.
The lord turned to spy casually at the handsome blond with green eyes. "Thank you, the land has been in our family for a thousand years. My grandfather and father rebuilt this house four hundred years ago after an earthquake."
"They did a marvelous job." His gaze rode hungrily on the high ceilings and smooth stoned floors that flowingly trickled into lustrous wood nestled under rugs. He smiled widely at a shadow whisking about the kitchen.
Haruka examined the beaming boy for a moment. "The earthquake destroyed the city, leaving everyone homeless. My grandfather decided to cut our land and dispersed it among the people." He lightly began to pour tea into a cup.
"Generosity runs in your blood. Have you always been interested in mayor ship? Oh, thank you." Takuma accepted the offered tea.
"Watching over Kurashiki has been our job since the dawn of our bloodline. My time on the seat was short-lived, you might've heard."
"Are you considering campaigning again? I doubt its necessity. Citizens will pour votes in your favor posthaste."
"I prefer sitting back and letting things run its own course." Haruka exemplified the statement by taking his chair and folded one long leg over the other before he reached for his tea. Takuma neatly followed the portrayal across the living room. "Kurashiki is peaceful the way it is. If another mayor wants to rise, I will provide full support."
"You have an unconquerable reputation. Lords compare you to international kings and queens. I had the honor of bearing witness to Ou-sama praising your ethic and dedication. Isn't it out of reverence why no one campaigns?"
"Empty words make no strong men. Praise never had the king." Haruka sampled his tea. "I was fortunate to come from a cherished clan, son of Ichijo. The only work I did was maintain my forefather's legacy. Something you are familiar with."
Takuma nodded thoughtfully, "My duty and fate were pre-designated before my birth and the day I was given a name."
"Noble clans are fiercer with their children. The day you'll hold your child, you'll understand." Haruka stated. "I, however, did not do the trait justice. As repercussion for my over gentleness with Yuki, I resigned. I did not want to tarnish the evergreen memories left behind by my clan. If Yuki were another man's child, they'd have done what little is done for alley dogs. But she is lucky, that rascal girl."
Takuma chuckled warmly.
"She can run around free and do whatever she likes, no one will hurt her. In its own way, I thought Kurashiki could shield her forever. She can live whichever way she wanted. It's easier for her to rest in the shade of my protective tree, but it's only for a limited time. All of us, even vampires, must go someday. I pestered her on marriage, to pawn off my fear of being disabled from protecting her. If she married a man of noble status, the reputation and status could protect her blood." The father murmured over his tea and studied the snagged threads of the rug.
"An understandable burden," Takuma spoke up from the end of that rug, "Yuki has shown how tough she is. I respect how well you raised her, not to go on waiting on a man's word or on another person to cherish her, but to find her heart's desire in a confusing and opposing world. And if anyone tries to hurt her, she will break their legs—that she will."
Haruka laughed, nodding helplessly.
"Because she damn well remembers her father would never let her be touched unlovingly by any creature, ever."
Ms. Laison tiptoed onto the rug, bowing her head. "Dinner is ready."
"Why don't you bring it to my office?" Haruka set the tea away, "I have some questions for the up and coming lord."
Takuma sat up in alarm and pushed the tea on a table. "Wh-what kind of questions?"
Haruka undid his sleeves, his brows jagged in concentration that his eyes disappeared beneath them. "When Yuki joined the Hunters Association, I didn't know how to stop her. That is no place for girls. She never disclosed her 'assignments.' " He lowered his arms slowly, free from the constricting buttons, "I encouraged Zero to follow and report back to me. She will take what happened a year ago to her grave, which leaves me with you."
Takuma's mouth opened and closed in indecision. He stood, nervousness tickling his bones again and acknowledged the interminable question burning through his gaze. "Of course, at-at your discretion, my lord."
Dawn sparked, thawing the cold land, over soapy water churning upon shores, enveloping the sea breeze that steered incoming merchants from out of town. Markets gradually reverted its regular commerce. Noble lords were up and about their homes, and farmers practiced their gait through tea, cotton and rice fields. Kurashiki rose with the brisk scent of cotton and sweet bread.
Takuma hadn't the chance to appreciate a comfortable and charming environment before. It put Kaname's harmonic descriptions into perspective, and he certainly found himself in awe by its seamless networks. His home prefecture carried unique appeal like Kurashiki its canals and bridges, but the present atmosphere remained unparalleled.
The Lord of Kurashiki, whom citizens adored and continually sought advice from was a considerate host and requested his extending stay. He could not ride back after the exchange in the lord's office late in the evening and accepted his offer. A walk about the city in the brisk morning agreed with Takuma, who had left a dreadful looking lord in the office. Miles from the estate's courtyard land spilled like green silk, cutting through forest meshing, but not without the thorny hedges of crawling roses pillaging in multiple lanes. In one of the lanes stood a petite figure, fragile as fogs defrosting in heaving wind.
"You're out early." Takuma crept soundly but unshakably toward her.
"And you never slept." She responded without averting from the birthing sun.
Takuma smirked at her profile. Limed in the morning glow, her hair crinkling around her collar, but not nearly thick to conceal the frown straining her mouth. Her eyes were dark, profound in unspoken pain, withholding no humor or distraction, an alarming contrast from recollection. "Neither did you." He replied.
"I have my reasons." She folded her arms, hugging herself against the breeze.
Takuma gently gestured toward her person. "Are you hurting now?"
"It hasn't stopped."
"Maybe I can find a remedy in the books once I get back?" He suggested.
"Something along the lines of completing the blood bond?"
"It is a helpful start." Takuma nodded, eyes large in earnest hope.
Yuki shook her head, her frown graver by the second and turned toward the bushes of roses tended by her father like most things on the estate, including her. "I never should have drunk his blood."
"You didn't know."
"I could've stopped myself. Everything up to now could have been avoided."
"No point crying over spilt milk. Kaname was happy to help. Hadn't it been for him, you wouldn't be here." He continued placating.
"Exactly." She was more ill-tempered and hot blooded than lions and everything wild that quenched from warm blood, she growled out of frustration, "Hadn't it been for my errors, he wouldn't have to do these things. I put him there."
"Would you rather he left you for dead?"
"I would rather none of this happened. I would rather be worlds away, or I'd rather we never met."
"Lucky for you—you get to spend your life at home—freely might I add."
"You mean a life where I'm stooping to purebloods while they jerk off over the crown? I can neither hunt or go where I choose and see you off after you've babysat me. And if that's not enough, marry a nobleman and become a 'lady', birth ten kids and sew nappies."
"Will you get a hold of yourself?"
"Isn't that what's happening?" She demanded. "Why did I ever fight hard at the Hunters Association if it was to be taken from me?"
Takuma sighed, "The arrangement was to let you live. Everything turned sedentary the minute the objective was accomplished. You're better off here than you were a year ago."
"Takum—"
He shook her kindly by the arms. "Aren't you?"
She clenched her teeth, averting in silent agreement.
"It's never fair, Yuki. A price always has to be paid."
o o o
"Earlier we experienced significant drought and we seem to be low on rice this year, breweries have similar difficulties. Fortunately, we do have a surplus of cotton from the previous year. In addition, the textile industry deems a partnership with several inns in our district. How does it please you?"
The crowned prince looked on in perplexed grim down his left sleeve. His right arm dangled from the knee and musically circled the index and the thumb.
The accountant cleared his throat, gruffly at first, and when met with stern silence, tried it softly a second time. "We understand the storehouses are less fuller than usual and trade is dribbling, but we can refashion the situation with, uh, how about selling fireworks? A confectionary festival lifts spirits in no time." He searched the distant pureblood pleadingly and flipped through his book. "Or not. Metal sounds sustainable. We can definitely compensate through it. How does it please you?"
It was difficult to mind the ungainly vampire of five foot three inches who looked feeble enough to be skewed by Kaname's claw. Nonetheless, what fool would resume festivities after his recent investiture, and with what intellect could a crowned pureblood indulge in latter activities while the very disgruntled Lord Toma suspiciously lurked from nowhere?
The prince soundlessly debated the administrative staff. The plump man adorned in green silk robes grew blood-curling annoying by the syllable. First, he was frightened of Kaname for unforeseeable convictions. Second, the royal house ledges were not updated for two seasons. Third, the man's demeanor resembled a buzzing, nagging dung fly pestering him for frivolous queries that did not sponsor interest or near enough grief.
"We'll sell through half of the cotton this season. Our merchants will return to deliver the recent production. I can arrange for wool if it does not please your highness?"
"Rain." Kaname started.
The accountant leaned forward on his knees at the abrupt word. "We are seeing less rain as the year's pass. The Qing often hold ceremonial dances and parade in honor of the god of rain. We're seeing humans commonly participate in these tributes. Does your highness wish to establish a ceremony this year?"
"Has the pureblood with the art of thunder and wind cut ties from us?"
"No, your highness."
"Arrange a meeting."
Surprise sparkled through his deep hazel eyes, his brows lifting, "Might I alert you, the pureblood master does not entertain guests."
"How long has it been since the royal house met him?" Kaname went on without budging from his purpose.
The accountant lowered his head, "Memory fails me. It could be a long discontinuity of sixty years I presume."
"Arrange it anyway. I'll head out alone." Kaname rose from the stairs of the assembly room he'd grown weary of pacing.
"But it's not customary for royals to travel alone." The accountant reminded, "Shall I also make arrangements for Ou-sama's shinsengumis to accompany you? The journey is far."
Kaname trained a curt brow lift upon the bowing, trembling man.
"Ah, ye-yes, your highness. I'll get to it at once." He nervously collected his pallid hands within his sleeve and scurried out of the doors.
Purebloods solo traveling was forbidden. A rare breed and unprecedented powers aside, purebloods attracted attacks, danger, rebels, and outlaws for the simple immodesty of subduing one and stealing one's blood. Most of his life Kaname rode adventurous escapades through books. He had never harmed a soul and not until he tore through Taito Takamiya's jugular had he ever taken a life. For a while, the hot blood splatter, the stench of his insides spilling into the world reaped an intense relief, so thrilling and numbing that caressed his own soul, and he could never walk like an innocent man who feared severing the thread of life again. For an even longer time before that Kaname dreaded his claws consuming another creature's blood as the habit itself would consume him for eternity. He did not understand then the strange relief from the misery of validating his father's approval was pertinent to his disemboweling goodness. Like his father, his father before him and his father – all Kurans seized the opportunity that had become inevitable and demanding – just for a father's affection, just for a throne.
He was away and gone from the king's palace. A road of inevitable eternity, steep depths longer and vagrant than the crashing sea. The edginess of unfamiliar roads and valleys beckoned their shrill wilderness in whippets of fresh air and abundant sun. For two days he tore into moors, catching hints of farmers and lords, merchants and soldiers, some traveling monks and hunters. He was a worshipped name, an itinerant enigma. The only whereabouts of his they knew were from word of mouth by palace attendants. Only scholars, daimyos, and a handful of hunters knew his face. He evaded his regalia, fine silk and curtaining robe for a foreboding black hood. Not claiming to be a warrior or a champion of sword fighting, but he was armed with weapons ordained on his investiture, a sword and knife once owned by his grandfather. Embedded in the pocket of the hood was the anti-vampire rod. Artemis's quiet presence comforted him to a certain degree, eternally patient to be of use. He did not mind the idea remained redundant on the trip for he did not intend on committing to extra warfare with another pureblood house.
Politics was truly maddening and curdled his blood from irritation. He imagined, if he had a human body, the distress would lead him to death by multiple aneurysms. It was a wonder how compelling pureblood bonds were, and in that, what made a hundred and eighty daimyo purebloods salute to his investiture. He received the demonstrative opinion that the king was not completely reliant and trusting of daimyos. Not because of the distinct abilities of daimyos, but purebloods had a tendency of turning on one another and absorbing the other's life force. Another reason why the pureblood council and Kurans solidified echelon throughout the nation. The king persistently savored his legacy and believed in the protection echelon spared over others. Kaname was not abled on the parameters of whose life was superior, the human child or the supernatural. He distinctly was uninterested in favoring one specie over another. Yet, being the latter specie predetermined its own claim on the situation, especially now that he was heir-apparent. Undoing his forefather's work would impel an upheaval among daimyos. Not doing anything demonstrated his laissez-faire attitude and cowardice to lords like Lord Toma. Just to be fair Kaname loved being laissez-faire majority of the time but his free pass was expiring.
There was no right or wrong on whose life was most miserable. The slave plowing the fields in skin-breaking sun or the influential man mourning various 'comrades' who had ultimately betrayed him. Kaname wondered if the task of leading the nation was fair to the people. Would his life be tight bound by regulations and suffocating as the king's? Whereupon failure and death tolls, could true peace be salvaged? The nation was blindfolded from the rest of the world, and the dominant eternally won at the expense of the weak. To dilute Lord Toma's forces he needed to harmonize the daimyos first. At present, the lot were in compliant, yet it left some to be contested. He didn't take the matter lightly, not if lords born of supernatural benefits like rain and thunder were kept at arm's length for decades.
In the exceedingly shadowed forest, the rustle of wood creatures and passing birds came exposed to his penetrative red eyes. There was no subtlety in the scent of blood weeping through the stream ahead, venturing from lands far and wide. Kaname eased his grip on the horse's reins and calmed the creature to a feasible trot. Its deep-seated brown eyes wisped close from the gentle caress of pale pureblood fingers down his hairy neck and whipped its tail. The shadows called out to him ten feet up the trek. The dry heat tickled the heaving trees. Kaname slowed the horse swiftly upon the two.
An old man, white and weathering topknot tilted his inconsolably wrinkled face toward the looming rider. In his arms was a rasping woman of equally dilapidated attire as he. "Kind of you to stop," The old man raggedly wheezed, "We haven't seen a single person come up this route in three days. We've been stranded here. My wife and I decided to see the healing tribe north of the mountains. Seven moons have passed and her illness won't go away. The journey has been tough on her. I'm not sure we can make it."
Kaname regarded them stately and peacefully. The smell of disease was ripe and her blood was not rampant as it would a healthy person. Their knapsacks were rolled and cast to the side, beddings and cooking equipment, and their sandals were worn out from walking. He fished what water he could treat with little fire for drinking. She was shivering and turning whiter by the second, the foul scent of her sickness escaped her lips. Kaname swung down the horse in one move. His long legs landed firmly and snaked the food and water the palace personnel insisted on him from the pelt, kneeling beside the couple.
The red eyes caused the old man to stiffen and shrink back.
"I have more than enough food and water to share. Have some." Kaname opened the pouch, but the man tersely stopped the gesture.
"Have mercy on us and be on your way, vampire lord. A sip of water from you will cost us our life. We've sold our land and cattle to make the journey. We don't have anything to repay you with." The old man sadly tugged his wife protectively.
"I do not have the need for it compared to you and your spouse. I am also headed up the mountain." Kaname answered.
Incredulously the old man's eyes widened. "What kind of vampire are you?"
The line of his mouth within the hood loosened its strained seal. "If I had the ability to heal her disease, make no mention of my hesitation, and I would ease her pain without question. It's just that my blood can become toxic to humans who are not inclined to turning into vampires much less hunters."
The man was stumped by the tall hooded vampire that turned and began arranging the saddle. "Why would you help us?" The man frantically uttered.
His suspicion was expected and Kaname smiled to himself. "I traveled with someone who hated purebloods. Her hate was deep as her laughter was loud. Would you believe I saved her life even though her crime was punishable by death? A man is what he believes in. I believe in getting through to people. What do you believe in?" Kaname posed.
The man cringed in discomfort. "Forgive us, my lord. I have never met a pureblood invested in the good of others upon leisure. Our whole lives we've served our daimyos and lost our sons to famine. To meet a lord willing as you, we are eternally grateful. I dare not risk my wife's life any more than I have."
"I won't bring harm to the both of you, you have my word." The prince calmly went on to say in a soft and congenial manner, "The mountain is another few days journey with rising gusts of wind. I'm afraid the forest is not safe to linger in. Your wife needs care and proper medicine right away. I grow weary of the silent road and wish for company. I'd be happy to share my horse with you."
The old man regarded the hooded pureblood tearfully and submitted to the offer. Having never received goodness or a compassionate word in his life, he was touched by the pureblood's generousness and sobbed.
The prince did not delay further and with the briskness of sharp wind, picked the weak woman and helped her into the saddle. Not long he assisted the old man as well.
o o o
Kurashiki radiated in the sunrise. Her canals roped its fiery arms and fingers into the sea. The marketeers were fair and similar. Chattering wives nestled in tea houses for stories. Roaming traders were amidst conversation with storeowners. Yuki could smell the city rousing wake. The singe turning to smoke, the fatigue of travelers riding in, sweet bread and cakes. The absolute fragrance of roses trailing her father's estate and endless grass. Cyrus shifted its hooves and shook its head to ward off the buzzing gnats.
Yuki caressed the horse's head. Her fingers lingering in the hair of its neck. She hadn't considered the origin of the horse's name, except she liked the sound of it. A book from the opium den inspired an attachment to the name and it seemed appropriate for the horse she'd stolen from a neighboring lord. She'd raised the horse well, at least she thought she did. He was intelligent, and if he could speak, Yuki swore, the horse could hold a debate saltier than Lilly's glare. Upon sensing her return, he rattled the stable doors for a fair good hour until someone—Yuki appeared. For the remainder of the time, the horse resorted to stand outside her window, peek in the kitchen to keep her in sight. He was seen trotting after her in streets and through the estate.
Ms. Laison smiled lovingly from her seat, a hand under her chin and her eyes alight in merriment. Footsteps echoed from the next room. She shot to her feet and turned to greet the lord of the house.
"I've prepared some tea and breakfast. Shall I move it to the office again?" She inquired.
Haruka blinked at the caretaker of the home with appreciative and admiring eyes. "No, I'll have it here. Thank you." As she arranged the table, he settled in a chair and accepted the fresh steaming tea she placed in front of him. Middle ways in the estate Haruka spotted Yuki on Cyrus, patient in the sunrise. "Has she said anything to you lately?" He asked.
"Not really." Ms. Laison answered. "It is good to have her back. I'm not sure she feels the same."
Haruka's eyes narrowed at the speculation.
"Have you ever seen her not strangle one person or the other up to no good?"
"She'll get used to it."
Ms. Laison shook her head and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "She is weak."
Haruka leaned back in the chair, cradling the cup in a palm. "Increasing her blood consumption will fix her right up."
Ms. Laison debated the response, looking back at the dishes arranged on the tray. "I'm worried." She admitted suddenly, "She doesn't say. I don't know what took place and it is too soon for her to let go, but she's become…"
She did not exclaim her thoughts or feelings bluntly. Often she was found staring into space, huddled in her bed sometimes for days and went unspeaking.
"Quiet." Haruka filled in. On horseback, her hair fluttering behind her as her arms rested against her hips. Haruka sighed at the sight. "Yuki is quiet."
The same streets, same merchants, even the same lords she pissed off too many times she dare not count. The same puddle in rice fields. The tree next to the lake. Everything in Kurashiki remained as it was the time she left. How come it did not feel like Kurashiki at all? Her life had been morphed by the illusory hands of time. Yet in some ways, life remained the same. Her home was tranquil and safest than anywhere in the country. Except it did not feel like home, not anymore. The wind passed her thoughts silently in the breeze to the shaking trees. Yuki urged Cyrus across the field into the farmland. All who recognized her called out. Some marveled her astounding release from the council.
"They say the king acquitted her of punishment. She stayed under the protection of the Ichijo clan ever since." The laborers murmured amongst themselves in the field.
Her hearing honed skillfully on the watchful group.
"Haruka-sama must've appealed her release." Another laborer whispered.
"The king always praised Haruka-sama. Letting his daughter go must've come at a price. He intends to find her a noble suitor and send her away."
"No, I heard someone inside the palace supported her release."
"That is not likely. Haruka-sama may know a few influential personnel, but no one overpowering enough to reject the council's decision."
"Two years ago two purebloods came to Kurashiki in secret. I heard one of them was royal blood and had business with Haruka-sama."
"I remember!" A third worker chimed.
"The news was all over town. One of them must've had a hand in it."
"Wherever the girl goes she brings trouble and requires someone to bail her out. The lord whose property she burnt vowed not to attend her debutante. Isn't she riding a stolen horse?"
"I am." Yuki lightly tugged the reins and hollered from the road below.
The laborers ceased on their hunched knees and picked their heads attentively. "Ye, yes, Yuki-sama?"
"For the record, I went back to Lord Seisen and offered to pay for the damages. His pride wouldn't let him and he refused. Cyrus has been well-trained and has helped accomplish over a hundred assignments at the Hunters Association. After all, I was sentenced to do community service and devoted my life and body to the Association, but feel free to chatter about my innumerable offenses." She tossed three coins in their direction, "When you're bored go to the tea house for the rest of the story about my 'release' from the terrifying council." She saluted and nudged Cyrus onward. "Can't wait to hear all about it!"
The laborers wizened and glared at one another.
She could always count on bystanders rioting rumors on her account, however, no one would dare be confrontative. Yuki was less concerned about her reputation forged by the words of the majority. She could not risk exposing the truth of her rescue from the cell, or the abduction and slavery. She did not have the heart or mind to share, the past was best left behind. For now, she stayed entertained by the diverse stories of her return.
Late evening Yuki wandered home. Her father was neat at his designation, glancing over paperwork by the hearth while Ms. Laison soothed her mind by fretting over vases and bowls to arrange roses she'd nipped from the garden. Her father barely glanced at his daughter, but she landed wearily and noisily beside him. She orchestrated a mute sigh and slanted her head on his shoulder.
Haruka paused his perusal to look at her. She was not disheveled, which meant she did not race to the inns and breweries. Nor did she wrestle or swordfight with street urchins and visiting brawlers. Yuki continued to maintain the habit of rousing early, showering, combing her hair into brunette silk, trim her nails. To say the least she appeared more endearing and rosy-eyed than he recalled. Her skin was paler and her signature tussle was swept in a relaxed wriggle against the collar of her summery yukata. Ms. Laison had loosened the belt for her to saddle Cyrus. She took the horse for an unreturnable run it seemed, returning late, exhausted and cold-skinned.
"Don't you have somewhere to char off to without telling me?" Haruka grumbled at his paper.
"No." She hadn't opened her eyes and wrapped an arm around his torso. "I'm staying with you for a long, long time."
"Ms. Laison, help me out here, I need to take the easy way out," Haruka summoned, "Is my poison ready?"
"It's been ready, Haruka-sama." Ms. Laison replied from the doorway. "Shall I bring it out?"
"I'll have it in the garden behind the shed where the hole is overly small to bear my enervation of this girl."
Yuki's arms constricted across his waist. "Very funny." There was not a remote smirk or grin quivering into her face.
Haruka closed a larger hand on her tightening elbow. He received a meaningful reiteration about her abuse from a Toma relative before the young Ichijo lord's departure. Despite the clan's predisposition at winning everything, Yuki was fortunate to be free of them. As he understood returning her to Kurashiki was not only wise but sensible. No one in Kurashiki would allow harm to befall at the hand of purebloods, Haruka would see to it personally. They would never talk about what happened a year ago, he knew. Yuki never disclosed harm done to her body on missions. Always she returned home and greeted him with a crooked smile, reeking of things he did not want to name. In the meantime, she could loiter to her heart's content, hassle him out of his wits. It was fine, all fine. Just so long as she was safe and sound.
I owe the prince a great debt. Haruka squeezed her elbow.
o o o
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