A.N. :The "night parade" here is partially influenced by the "Hyakki Yagyo" and the "Wild Hunt". Wikipedia has very enjoyable articles on both, with links to better sources.

I'd like to blame Kate Elliott's "Cold Magic" for this plot bunny, but I haven't actually moved past chapter two yet and it's been sitting on my shelf for almost a year, so I will pin the blame squarely on chapter two.

!

!

!

Kaoru knew the stories well enough- the demon's procession, the night parade that killed or spirited away anyone unfortunate enough to be caught out wandering on too dark nights. She had never believed though, not really. It was only a myth, a story designed to keep children indoors at night. Now, with the pebbles on the path dancing beneath her feet as though disturbed by hoof beats she could not hear, Kaoru began to wonder if perhaps she should have listened closer to those old tales.

She stepped to the side of the path, fingers clamping purposefully about the hilt of her shinai. Whatever was coming, she wouldn't run; it would be a wasted effort anyway, flat and barren as the land was. Wind whipped about her, carrying with it a breath of winter's chill and finally the steady thrum of riders on horseback, laughter and the faint sound of music. Kaoru drew a breath, willing herself to stay calm.

Her first sight of the host strained that resolve almost to its breaking point. She had hoped that her imagination had run away with her, that perhaps mounted travelers had chosen a lesser-known road, but no one could mistake either the horses or their riders for anything natural. The horses were sleek and muscled, manes and banners streaming behind them- even they seemed intimidating at a distance with the unholy fire in their eyes and the way they seemed almost to fly toward her. Beside them ran creatures she had only ever seen in shadow plays or printed paper: small, twisted creatures that clawed their way across the ground with alarming speed, hulking beasts of fantastical colors with too few or too many eyes.

Leading them was a man whose crimson hair streamed behind him, whipping about in the unseasonably chill wind. Though he seemed more normal than the creatures snapping at his heels and trailing at his side, she could not mistake him for a human even with all the space still separating them. Kaoru's gaze had locked with his when they were still forty paces apart, and she could have sworn her heart had stopped for a split second, shinai falling from nerveless fingers to clatter forgotten in the dust. She couldn't even muster the will to run when his horse skidded to a stop less than a foot from her, though no rocks or dust flew from its hooves to beat against her.

When he dismounted, closing what little distance remained between them with a graceful glide, some measure of self-awareness trickled back. Kaoru wasn't sure where to look: at the man who despite his unremarkable height seemed to loom over her, near enough that she felt the heat of his body prickling the hairs on her exposed skin or at the red string tied about her little finger that had snapped taut the moment her eyes had met his own. The world seemed to spin about her, sights and sounds blending into a cacophony of sensation that threatened to deprive her of consciousness, but she would be damned before she played the part of the fainting damsel. She scrambled for the chant her father had taught her as a child during her play, never dreaming his daughter would actually need it. The night parade didn't exist.

Except it had gathered about her, blocking any possible escape, and every strange unblinking eye seemed to be fixed on her and the crimson-haired man.

Her eyes followed the string, lit by the ghost lights her erstwhile captors carried. It connected her to his unexpectedly slender hand, held splayed before him, perfectly steady unlike her trembling fingers. Kaoru followed the arm up to its shoulder and finally to the eyes not so far above her own; she saw her own disbelief reflected there, not unmixed with frustration.

Who are you? The question hovered on the tip of her tongue, but she suspected the answer would only add another question to a steadily growing list of them.

"Who are you?" Despite her best intentions, the question slipped free. Kamiya Kaoru was known for a handful of things among her acquaintances; biting her tongue had never been among them. "What are you?" One question begged the other, and if she was going to take the risk once she may as well take it twice.

"And what is this?" Her voice rose, desperation quickly becoming anger. The sinking feeling in her gut warned her she wouldn't like the answer. It looked exactly what she had thought the red string of fate must look like, only that wasn't possible. Whatever rules governed the spiritual world- and until tonight she would have sworn there wasn't one- could not extend to her, a human woman who had never had the time to dream of something so frivolous as a fated love.

The man didn't answer but his eyes locked on the same string, flashing back to her face incredulously once more. She didn't have time to be offended before he had grabbed her hand, expression hardening into a stone mask she couldn't even begin to read.

"Come." He spoke the single word with all the assurance of a lord commanding a loyal vassal, confident he would be obeyed. Kaoru had the distinct impression most of this host had never questioned the authority he wielded before. She dug her heels into the dirt, leaning her weight back until she had enough space to throw herself to the ground. She stretched, reaching for the abandoned shinai out of habit more than anything else, but in a flash he had kicked it out of her grip and fixed her with such a glare it might have frozen a lesser woman's blood.

Kaoru prided herself on being made of sterner stuff, but even she felt a frisson of fear run down her spine at the glance. Desperate, she grabbed a handful of dirt instead, throwing it at his eyes in a last-ditch effort to make him release her. His grip faltered only for a moment, then tightened to bruising intensity as he yanked her up, tossing her over his shoulder as if she were a sackful of grain. Screaming all of the filthy words she could remember, she raked at his back, throwing her leg into his gut with as much force as she could muster. She had the satisfaction of hearing him gasp for air- perhaps he was not so different from a human after all- but the next moment he had thrown her into the saddle, mounting behind her and whirling the horse so quickly she would have fallen but for his arms caging her on either side.

Whatever else she had to say was swallowed up by the wind whistling around them, and she couldn't take another breath with his weight pressing her firmly into the pommel, one hand knotted in his horse' mane and the other twined tight in her clothing. She didn't yelp at the sharp tug of her hair, too focused on trying not to see the scenery passing them by in a blur. Kaoru had never been on horseback, and she promised herself right then that if her feet ever touched precious earth again she'd never be tempted back into a saddle. Not if she lived a thousand years with a few to spare.

Between the shock of being abducted by a demon and the lack of air as her lungs were steadily crushed against the saddle, Kaoru didn't bother to fight the nauseous feeling that overwhelmed her, finally allowing herself to slip into the comfort of oblivion while that damnable scarlet thread still taunted her even in her bizarre dreams.

!

!

!

!

"Battousai." Megumi's lips pursed with displeasure, still reluctant to address him by the name he had been given. Once he would have been sympathetic, but the years weighed heavily on him and he had well and truly grown into the title. "There is a human girl in my quarters." Her one visible tail, still white as snow despite her age, flicked with annoyance but her face remained as studiously composed as ever; he expected no less from her.

"Yes." He didn't elaborate, and she didn't dare to press him on the matter. For once he considered inviting her opinion; what was he to do with the girl? He glanced down to his finger, shifting his focus until at last he saw the thread once more. He didn't have a name to put to the feeling that settled at the back of his skull; it was a bewildering combination of dread, anticipation and satisfaction all at once. He hadn't felt so much in too many years to count, and he barely remembered the knack of it.

Foxes were territorial beasts by nature, and Megumi was a true woman of her kind. He could feel the effort it cost her not to protest, and the moment she decided to press her luck another way. "How long will that be?"

"Until I decide otherwise." Mere hours ago, he had been very certain he didn't have a 'destiny', that no god could be cruel enough to bind someone to him so irrevocably. Then he had felt the painful tug, seen the string that might as well have been his own heart's blood, and helpless as any of the lesser spirits he had followed it to the young woman who even now lay in Megumi's chamber. Why he had taken her there, Battousai still wasn't certain. Not one of his kind would have eyed him askance for taking her straight to his own rooms; he could have ravished her in the grand hall- something his comrades had clearly expected- and been greeted with no more than knowing smirks.

He remembered the naked fear in her eyes just before it had turned to anger, the half-snarl of desperation as she had reached for a weapon, anything she could find even if it was only a pitiful handful of dust. Despite the whispers bruited about his domain, he had a shred of conscience left and it would not allow him to trample on her spirit by so bluntly reminding her of her defeat. He glanced back over his shoulder, telling Megumi without words that she had overstayed her welcome. She didn't scurry out, but she wasn't slow to leave him either.

Battousai found his feet carrying him toward the room where he had left the girl. This would be the pattern of his days from now on he knew, unless they mutually accepted this bond it would continue to draw them together regardless of their preferences. Or at least that was how all the old stories were told.

Wandering through halls that echoed with hollow emptiness, past others that assaulted his ears with the sound of drunken revelry, he made his way to the wing where Megumi kept her rooms. She had chosen the one farthest from his own, someplace he was almost guaranteed never to wander. Someplace the others wouldn't either, and that was the crux of it. Not all of the creatures he kept watch over remembered their consciences, if ever they had one to begin with. Nowhere in this realm would a human find absolute safety, but this was the nearest it could come.

He stopped at the threshold of her room, vexed that he had given into the unconscious impulse, annoyed that a nameless human already had him wrapped about her little finger… in the most literal possible sense. Of course it was his own fault she remained nameless; she had struggled and twisted so much even in the saddle that he had finally woven a sleep on her. Perhaps if he had attempted to answer her questions, offer her some assurance that she would be safe in his keeping, he could have had her name from her.

A Human's name wouldn't hold half the power of his own, but it would have bound her to him in some small way. Enough that he would at least have had something to call her besides "the girl." More accurately "the woman", he thought, but time didn't move the same in her world either.

For the first time in mortal ages, Battousai found himself wrestling with uncertainty. Should he wait for her to wake and stumble through this labyrinth looking for him? The thread would guide her, but who knew which path it might take? He could set Aoshi as a guard, have her brought to him as soon as she stirred, but Aoshi wouldn't be half so forgiving as he had been. And some pit of jealousy stirring in his gut didn't want her seeing anyone else but him when she first woke. That settled the debate. He slid the shouji open, stealing into the room as quietly as a cat.

She slept on, limbs splayed every which way, loose raven hair tangled and caught under her elbow. The sleeve of her shirt had come unfastened to bare the curve of her shoulder; his eyes fixed on it for a moment, following a constellation of freckles that ended on the delicate outline of her collar bone. Someday he would trace that path with his tongue, sucking bruises into the pale flesh while her nails raked him in a very different way. Startled at the thought, he very deliberately turned his gaze to her face. She was pretty in an earthy way, and his kind had never shared the peculiar human reticence surrounding sex and attraction. Still, if his… bride was human, he would compromise.

Her chest, rising and falling in the steady rhythm of sleep, stilled just long enough for his eyes to catch it, lashes flickering and finally clenching closed once more; she sensed his presence, even only half-awake.

"I know you're awake." Battousai was surprised to find a thin tendril of amusement creeping into his tone. There was something vaguely endearing about her refusal to do anything the way he expected. Rather than fainting dead away when confronted by his procession and its horrors she had demanded answers of him; his compulsion hadn't worked on her either, and his back still stung with the proof of her defiance. He had expected her to come awake fighting, and positioned himself in front of the door to block her flight.

Instead she pushed herself up onto her elbows, wincing when it caught her hair. She tugged viciously, shifting her weight to wriggle into a sitting position before fixing him with a glare that could have lit a candle at a hundred paces. Even then she managed to surprise him; rather than hissing and spitting, her tone was perfectly measured when she spoke: "Where's my ribbon?"

She pulled her hair back, fingers catching in tangles that she combed out by rote.

He had debated whether he would return it to her; sometime during their flight it had come undone, and he had bound it about it his wrist for safekeeping. When she asked in that tone, so obviously trying to cling to some semblance of normalcy, he found himself pushing back his sleeve, tugging the blue ribbon loose and presenting it to her in much the way a hero might have presented the head of a dragon to his beloved. Not that she seemed particularly impressed; she eyed his hand like a poisonous viper, snatching the ribbon from his fingers as quickly as she could without actually touching him.

"Thank you." She muttered stiffly, binding her hair and settling her clenched fists on her lap in a way that suggested she wouldn't be shy about using them.

He clasped his hands at his sides, the better for her to see them, but her gaze turned unerringly to the sword at his hip instead, lingering there with obvious nervousness. He shifted, adjusting his sleeve to block it from her view, and embarrassed at being caught staring she quickly locked her eyes on his.

When he had first seen her on the path he had been so consumed by sheer disbelief he hadn't truly taken the time to actually look at her eyes. He committed them to memory now, the sapphire blue shade, complementing the curling dark lashes that lined the tip-tilted curve of them. They swept over him searchingly from his feet to his face, dwelling on the unnatural red shade of his hair, pulled behind him in a sensible pony-tail much like hers.

He knelt, far enough from her that she wouldn't think it was a threat, close enough that he could reach out and touch her if he dared. Not yet. It was not his privilege yet, but his fingertips already ached to twine with her own and feel the strength he could see reflected in the toned muscle of her arm. He remembered the shinai she had carried, lying forgotten on the path too far away for her to find now and wondered if her hands would be as calloused as his, the skin of her palm work roughened and firm.

Mostly though, he wanted her name.

"Where did you bring me? Why?" She glanced at her finger, doubtless guessing the answer to her own question but unable to see it without first learning the trick of concentration it took to glimpse beyond the veil of the natural world. It would be easier here in this border between worlds, but it was a skill that had to be taught.

"Are you going to answer any of my questions at all?" She finished dryly, visibly swallowing her frustration.

With a start, Battousai realized that he had only addressed her once and then only to command her obedience. He ought to choose his words carefully, say something that would soothe her nerves and set her at ease with him… but the newly awakened imp in him couldn't resist needling her, delighting in the new and confusing emotions that had been bombarding him from the moment he had dragged her kicking and screaming into his world.

"Among my kind, it's customary to offer a name before asking too many questions-"

He meant to offer his own, a tentative peace offering between them, but she cut him off with a clipped "Kaoru. Kamiya Kaoru."

Kaoru. She gave it to him so easily, but his blood sang with victory. He could find her now, no matter where she went. Time and distance were immaterial when it came to true names, and he felt the truth of hers deep in his bones like it had simply been waiting for him to remember it.

"Kaoru," there was no need to repeat it, but he enjoyed the way the syllables rolled off his tongue, "I am…" Which name to give her? Not his true name, nothing that could compel him, but perhaps his lesser known name? He hadn't heard it spoken in so long he wondered if he would even respond to it. In the end, he offered her his title instead, "Battousai."

She arched a delicate brow, lips thin and nostrils flaring. It wasn't a name like she had given, but it was enough to call him by until he could trust her enough to offer another.

"I don't need your name, I need to know why the hell you abducted me." She buried her head in her hands and for a moment he thought she would cry, but she drew a quiet, shuddering breath, lowering her hands to push herself into a kneeling position. He could see her visibly swallowing her pride before forcing a plea from her mouth, and wondered what could possibly have changed her from the spitfire of last night into the young woman that grated: "Please, I don't know what you are or why you brought me here and I don't really care, but I need to go home."

Much as their fledgling bond pricked him for denying her, the only answer he offered was an immutable "No."

!

!

End Note:

This is going to be my first long fic for this fandom but definitely not the last- concrit will always be very appreciated. (Reviews in general are appreciated, but concrit is emtreasure/em.

While this is an AU, I'd like everyone to be as in character as they can be considering the change in universe if that makes any sense. I'm also working on my "show, don't tell", so please let me know if I skew too far in any direction. Rating may increase in later chapters. It's not currently part of the plan, but just in case- Schrödinger's explicit chapters will be clearly marked.

Thanks for taking the time to read, and I hope you enjoyed!