This fic... is turning out to be much longer than I had anticipated. Updates will be slow-going. Footnotes denoted by asterisk marks - check the end for explanations.

Warning: This story contains shounen-ai, Tsuuten/Genshi. Tread carefully! ^_^

R&R, onegai shimasu. *bow*

What the Eyes Cannot See
Chapter 1 : When Youth Fades to Darkness

"Hehehn." The boy stared intently as the two crickets duked it out in his make-shift boxing ring, crudely constructed from a few thick blades of grass and some small rocks. Two of the opposite corners held a small, battered piece of torn cloth pinned under a stone - one yellow, the other a dirty white. It was a childish hobby, but being scarcely more than a child, he could enjoy such minor pleasures, and did so quite often in fact. He fidgeted in anticipation as the slightly larger insect took the advantage and tore a limb from its smaller cousin in a painful looking tear of exoskeletal flesh. It wasn't the best of fights, but provided entertainment none the less.

He hooted loudly, as a referee would, when the smaller cricket finally ceased its twitching and the victor crawled away, leaving the carcass for the ants. "Aaaand the yellow corner wins!" Snatching the two small, coloured rags, he toppled the ring and ran off. His laugh carried on the wind, and he let his arms spread like a bird's wings, rags trailing from his fingers. The sudden motion had disturbed a nearby flock of birds, sprinkling flustered feathers and startled cries into the breeze. He grinned and hooted again, chasing after their panicked forms.

"One day, I'll be able to touch the sky!" His giggle continued all the way home.

"Mamaaaaaa, I'm hooooome!" It was a bit past lunch time. He really hadn't intended to be late - it was the crickets' fault for taking so long! Not that he'd really tell her that... Pausing to stuff the coloured strips under his shirt, he stepped into the threshold. "Mama?"

From the corner of his eye, he saw a faint shadow scurry away. His mother turned, her face flushed and startled. Closing her eyes in a motion to regain her composure, she sighed. "Where have you been young man?"

/Out of sight, out of mind./ Disregarding the shadow as a rodent, he grinned at his mother. "Sooooorrry. I got caught up in some things on the way back." He plopped himself down on the ground near the table. "I promise I won't do it again." He ducked his head and lowered his eyes, waiting for her to finish chastising him. He was hungry, after all, and didn't feel like yelling back.

He peered up at her when she said nothing. She had her back turned to him, and was apparently fixing his meal. He blinked. /Odd. Must be in a good mood... She hasn't been like that since.../

His thought process was cut short as she turned and presented his food to him. He grinned in spite of himself. It was nice to see his mother in a good mood. Her hair, cut in traditional mourning style, had already regrown to shoulder-blade length. It had been a while. He ate in silence, mindful to not leave any rice pieces behind*.

"You're growing to be quite a fine young man," his mother mused aloud. "You resemble your father in many ways." She reached out and lightly pet her son's hair. "You even have the same green hair." He looked back at her, quietly. She rarely discussed his father, and on the occasion that she did, he could see the tears being held back. What concerned him now, however, was the fact that he no longer saw unshed tears in her eyes, merely a fond remembrance.

/What had happened today to put her in such high moods?/ He slurped the last of his rice, and set the bowl down, leaning forward on his elbows. /And am I really getting that old? I'm only 14, geez./

He grinned at his mother. "Too bad you're my mother, huh? Not many pretty girls around here."

She blushed lightly at that, as she did every time he complimented her. He'd gotten good at that particular skill, since it was one of the few ways to cheer her up. Not that she really needed cheering up at the moment, but her behavior was a little off today. He didn't know how else to act.

"You flirt. You should use your charm on the girls." His expression turned sardonic. She knew he never flirted. How she knew that was still beyond him, but he just never found it to be an interesting thing to do. /A wasted talent,/ she had said once. /Maybe you'll grow into it,/ she had said. /Wait a few years./ It didn't really matter to him - he just didn't care about the girls.

"Heh," he countered. "Why find myself a pretty lady when I've already got one at home?"

She rolled her eyes at the retort and ruffled his hair. "One day you'll understand, Sonshou." Standing, she took his empty bowl and left to clean the mess he had made, effectively signifying the end of that discussion.

/One day? Like that'll ever happen./

He couldn't remember the first time he had done it. It had been during so many years of his life, that it was like a habit; an obsession of sorts. He had completely stumbled over it after the first few times, and since then couldn't stop. He was also pretty sure this had occurred many years before he was ever born, but he preferred to leave those type of speculations to sages like the fabled Roushi.

/Bet he's an old fart who's so used to traveling the 'way of the mind', he can't even use his own eyeballs anymore. Who's got time to waste on thinking anyway when there's so much to do?/ He didn't relish the thought of becoming one of those old men who were always splurting out philosophical nonsense. /Idiots don't even know how to live./

It made him tired during the day, but that's why he always took a nap in the mornings while out in the field. It wasn't like his mother knew or anything. Or maybe she did. He could never tell. But this was one thing he would never reveal to her outright.

He waited until the moon reached its highest point before quietly sneaking out of the house. It only happened once a month, and he couldn't remember a time when he had missed it. He visited every night because he liked to, but the night of the full moon was always special - he'd learned that a very long time ago. Maybe he was obsessed. Oh well.

He slipped his sandals on and grabbed a throw from the hallway. Pausing only to put it on as guard against the night chill, he slid the front door open and stepped outside. He grinned and breathed in the cool mist.

There were many reasons he liked the night time. It had such a surreal beauty to it that contrasted against the glaring brightness of day. The mists which formed during the night diffused the light of the moon into a pearly haze, obscuring anything beyond the distance of a few paces. Some nights, he couldn't even see more than 5 feet in front of him. Other nights, the mist was so thin, you could see the stars peeking at you. Both had their traits he admired.

Tonight wasn't particularly special, nay for the brightly shining moon. He was partly thankful for it, it would make the trip a bit easier. He snatched a bucket by the doorway, and made his way towards the river. It wasn't the river itself that was so special to him. It was the lake it fed water into.

Though he loved the night time, he didn't blindly love it. Night was a very dangerous time to go milling about, especially with all the wild animals roaming around. He'd heard tales about intelligent animals who could talk, and he didn't want to bump into a smart, man-eating tiger along the way. He needn't worry about muggers since his home was far from any large village, but there was still the off-chance that a random warrior would pass through. He loved the night, but he wasn't stupid. He respected it.

Wary, and light on his toes, he made his way to the river bank before following the water's course to his final destination. The faint trickling of the water filled his ears, and he made his steps as quiet as possible. /No need to break the calmness with noisy shuffling. Besides, it might be time by now./

He hunched over as he approached the shore. He'd done this countless times, yet every time he still felt a faint rush of adrenaline. Perhaps it was for the best - he had yet to mess up. Crawling towards the log he used as a nightly seat, he silently dipped the bucket in the water. This place almost disturbed him by its quietness in the dead of night. The water itself no longer made noise, the crickets all seemed to avoid this area, and all the night animals kept their peace. It was as if they could sense the magic about this lake. Slowly, he let the water trickle from the bucket back to its source. The noise seemed so imposing in the surrounding silence. If he didn't know what he was doing, he might have stopped on principle. It seemed wrong to disturb such a place.

He wasn't fascinated by the solitary noise. He wasn't fascinated by the water. Nor was he fascinated by the ripples of the moon shining off the disturbed surface. What fascinated him were the blue sparkles forming in the center of the lake and emerging like glowing crystals. Water sprites.

Quickly, he hid behind a nearby bush, clinging to the buckle handle. He'd never actually talked to one of the sprites before, and even if he wanted to, he was sure he would be a huge, bumbling mess. He'd heard stories that they were a mischievous sort, and found himself ill-suited to match their wit. The most he could do was disturb their peace and watch in the shadows. Once, he mustered enough guts to toss a pebble a fair distance into the lake before bolting like a crazed animal, afraid of some divine retribution. He hadn't returned for weeks, still too afraid the sprites would pass some horrible judgment on him. For now, he stuck to the slight disturbance to jostle them from their home. His courage stopped him there.

It wasn't the sprites which drew him here tonight this time, though. Every other night he could spy on their antics, and he just wasn't as interested as he would be other evenings. Tonight was the full moon, which drew out the more fabled beast. The kitsune.

Though he might've held the guts to disturb the water sprites, he held no such bravery for disturbing the kitsune. He left that job up to the bickering sprites. He really couldn't understand what they were saying from his hiding spot - it was more like annoying, high-pitched squeaking - but he could tell they were most displeased by being disturbed. And it was their vocal annoyance which always drew the kitsune.

The very first time it happened, he about had a heart attack. A faint grin graced his lips at the memory. He'd never run so fast in his life. Not even when he had tried throwing that pebble.

While he knew a little about water sprites, he knew even more about kitsune, and nearly all the stories about the fox creatures were unpleasant. It took him another few weeks before he returned to the lake after that incident as well. After a few months, he discovered the kitsune only appeared on the full moon. He wasn't quite sure about the reasons for that, but so long as he knew the schedule, he wouldn't be so unprepared. He felt himself fascinated by the creature. It was dangerous sort of hobby, he knew, but he liked living a little on the edge. How many people could say they've seen a kitsune and survived once, much less even half the number of times he had?

Quietly, he waited for the sprites' voices to carry. It took longer some nights than others, and he hoped his wait wouldn't be an extended one. At least he was sure the sprites would be at it for another few hours. Well, until the kitsune showed up, that is.

He blinked as he heard a faint rustle of leaves in the otherwise silent landscape. The tiny creatures of myth hovering over the water drew quiet, and looked into the direction the noise came from.

He frowned. Normally the water sprites fled in terror from the fox spirit. Mischievous though they may be, they could never match wits with the mastermind known as a kitsune. That was another reason he never wanted to disturb the grand beast himself - he was sure he would somehow wind up selling his soul to the wily creature. This time, however, the creatures of water stayed in place, silent, expecting.

Flitting his eyes around, he searched for the source of the noise. Now that he thought about it, the kitsune never made noise in its approach. His frown grew. /What...?/

He squinted against the darkness as some black masses flowed to the shore a fair distance away. His eyes narrowed further. /Sheep? What the hell are sheep doing out here in the middle of the night without a shep...herd./ His eyes quickly flit around, searching for their master. Right now was certainly not the best time to meet up with a psychotic man, kindly shepherd or not. Especially a psychotic, kindly shepherd. The only possible weapon he had was a measly bucket! And that kitsune was surely roaming around, as well.

His eyes finally fell on a form floating along with the sheep. If it weren't for the circumstances, he would have burst out laughing at the notion of a shepherd using his sheep as a form of transportation. But, now was not the time for humour.

The stranger's amber eyes pierced through the darkness, pinning his hiding place as easily as it had been daylight in an open field. His expressionless eyes were disconcerting in the darkness, the only light coming from the blue hue of the sprites and the ivory haze of the moon. He practically looked like a ghost.

He blinked down to check for legs*, and was even more disturbed to find rather long, dangling pant legs. His thoughts ran in a fever-pitch. /Those're legs all right. Pretty well covered, but those are legs. Where do you get pants that long? And those clothes of his are weird, too. I've never seen a shepherd wear that before. What kind of person would wear-/

Abruptly, the wildlife around began to murmur, whispering short nothings, all blurring into a single, soft noise. He cringed back when the noise slowly formed into a chant. Disjointed, and mantra-like in pace, his eyes widened when the words clicked in his head. /That's.../

"He's the farmer's son..."

"He disturbs this peace..."

"That is the one who visits every night..."

"He's the one called Sonshou..."

"He is the seed of the future..."

"That boy is the young leader..."

"That's the one who will match Roushi..."

"He's the one we seek..."

"He is the one..."

The yellow eyes met his in a long stare. "You are the one."

He about wet his pants. "Oh... shit." Dropping the bucket he was so few moments ago clinging onto for dear life, he fled. Never ran so fast in his life? Well, this time he ran faster.

Footnotes:

(1) It's bad luck to leave any pieces of rice uneaten. For each piece uneaten is a year bad luck. It was a superstition told to children to make sure they ate everything.
(2) It's a common belief that the dead, aka ghosts, don't have legs.