A/N: Well, here it is- Chapter two. I'll give you all fair head warning: I have no idea about the traditions and/or culture of the Ainu people- this is all pulled from the top of my head. So if I make a mistake, feel free to point it out (the more you know…), just try not to be too rude about it ;) Argh. Sorry about the boring beginning of this chapter- just had to try setting things up a bit (poor HoroHoro's past isn't nice and laid out in the manga like Yohs- so I couldn't be lazy like the last chapter XP) Just as a totally random note: My spell check keeps wanting to change 'HoroHoro' to 'Hoodoo'…

This Disclaimer has Issues: Actually, I do own Shaman King. Mmyep, Hiroyuki Takei, that's me. I just ate a bad ham sandwich that spontaneously changed my gender, age, and ethnicity. Really.

Beginnings

One Good Turn...

Dark eyes swept over the bulging sack with furrowed concentration as the mans calloused, powerful hands tugged roughly upon various straps and buckles, making certain nothing was in danger of coming loose during the week ahead. Several of the other men around him did the same as yet others checked their weapons- carefully evaluating the razor points, then hunching down to file this edge or that, before straightening and eyeing the head again. There was no room for error. It was a beautiful, mild-weathered mid-October morning, the sun just peeking over the snow-capped mountains to make the early-morning frost clinging to the yellowed grass and bare branches glitter. A fine day for the hunt. With luck, the weather would stay like this the length of the week. However, this late in the season, one could never be too sure… The gods of winter were unpredictable and harsh to any mortal foolish enough to underestimate their power. The witch of November was well known to ride the north winds as early as late September, stealing the breath of the old and sickly, covering their frail bodies in a deceivingly harmless layer of frost… The man groaned to himself as he ran his calloused hand through his strikingly blue locks- they were toying with fate to go out on the hunt this late in the year…

Then again, not much could be done to prevent it- Not only did the harvest run later than usual, but they had lost more land to the Machine. Apparently, some men from the city discovered crude oil beneath the bog-lands to the south- dangerously close to another Ainu settlement, the Polrükkoro village, and, as always, the men from the city had swept in like prey birds over carrion, waving useless pieces of paper claiming they had the rights to own the land. He felt himself sigh wearily, as if a human could possibly own the land. To make a long story short, they moved into the swamps, draining the waters and burning the plant life to make room for their gasoline-powered, pollution-spewing mechanical monsters. Obviously, the Ainu were forced out of their homes to wander the northern wilderness. His village welcomed them in and helped them resettle into their town- No Ainu ever left their brethren stranded. So thus, the hunt was put off until this late- it was now or never, if they didn't go their families probably wouldn't make it through the winter. The man swallowed the lump that rose in his throat as his thoughts drifted to his own wife and two children- he couldn't bare the thought of them suffering…

"Oi, Hororu," the mans head snapped up to stare at the younger man blankly. He blinked in surprise at the knowing grin lighting the younger mans (and several of the others) face as he pointed casually at something over Hororus shoulder. The older man blinked again as it sunk in and he slowly turned around in confusion.

He didn't turn fast enough…

"Gack!" was all the Ainu could choke out as he was hurled to the ground, the sound of warm laughter resounding behind him a strange contrast to the cold earth he was pinned on. All he could see from his right eye was a mess of spiked blue, his left tightly shut for fear of being blinded by the rather pointed poke-worthy locks, two much smaller arms wrapped tightly (and rather uncomfortably) around his thick neck. A strong hand reached up to ruffle the childs hair.

"Horo?"

"Hmm…?"

"…I can't breath." Hororu gasped audibly as he pushed himself off of the damp earth, pausing briefly to stare in anguish at his shirt (they hadn't even set out yet and he was already covered in mud!), before his gaze fell on the tiny boy still perched expectantly on his knee, chest heaving from having run so far and toothy smile threatening to split the five-year-olds face in two. The older man couldn't stop the grin that tugged at the corners of his own mouth as he stared down into the chubby face so like his own. It was only then that he noticed the small daypack swung haphazardly over one of the boys shoulders.

"And where are you off to this early in the morning? Usually I don't get to see your snotty little nose until lunch." He teased lightly. There was a brief pause as his son panted a few more times until he managed to get his breath back, then he puffed his little chest out and tilted his chin up with pride.

"I'm going with you!" he nodded smugly, as if finalizing the obviously spontaneous impulse. Hororu quirked an eyebrow in amusement as a few more kind-hearted snickers slipped out behind him.

"Oh, are you now?" he drawled in absently as he allowed his childs smug look to reflect in his older visage. The boy nodded again. "I hate to say it kid, but I'm 'fraid you're not quite big enough yet. Maybe you can tag along in the next year or two." 'Or ten.' He quipped cheerfully.

"But I am big now- Seeeeee?" the blue haired youth pleaded, drawing back his lips in an exaggerated smile to show off his missing tooth.

"Yeah, but what if a bug flies in through that gap Horo? Then what'll you do?" the blue haired boys face fell into a look of shock and horror. Then scrunched up in thought. Obviously he hadn't thought of that one… His face suddenly brightened as he beamed up at his father with renewed determination.

"I'll spit it back out!"

"Sorry kiddo, no can do. You have to have all your teeth to come on this trip." The five-year-olds shoulders slumped, his hastily packed daypack drooping sadly down his arm as he gave his father his best puppy eyes. Hororu gave him a re-assuring smile as he ruffled his spiky hair fondly. "Besides, I need you to stay home to take care of your mum and sister. I couldn't leave my two favourite ladies alone and defenceless while I'm gone, now could I?" HoroHoro blinked as his face scrunched up in thought once more.

"… I suppose not…" Hororu felt himself relax slightly as he gazed down into the boys contemplative pout.

"That's the spirit Horo, you're the official 'Man of the House' until I get back, k?"

"Okay." The child sighed dejectedly as he slowly hauled himself off his fathers knee to start trudging gloomily back down the path to the village.

"Don't be like that, I won't be gone long- just a week. When I get back I'll buy you a whole bag of marshmallows, and we'll go ice-fishing together, k?" Hororu called out as stood up and brushed as much mud and dead grass from his pants as possible. The boy brightened instantly as he whirled around to show his father one extended little finger. The blue-haired man grinned goofily as he held up his own pinky finger in return.

'I promise.'

With that, the boy nodded happily and waved before turning and sprinting down the path and out of sight, his daypack bobbing manically on his small back. Hororu couldn't seem to drop that slight grin, the memory of his sons smile warming him from the inside, even as he hauled his own over-stuffed pack onto his back and started off with his Ainu brethren into the dark forests dwarfed at the feet of the majestic mountains looming up to touch the early morning sky.

n.n

Wide, crystal clear, teary eyes gazed up from beneath the toadstool, her tiny, charred body trembling as she shrunk away from his chubby, outstretched hand.

He gave the little lady his friendliest smile, and was only a little discouraged when she cowered further away, as if hopping to melt into the mushroom stalk behind her.

Then again, he really couldn't blame her.

n.n

It had been almost three weeks since the men had left for the hunt.

He'd heard the rumours, the quiet whispers that would end abruptly whenever he, or another child they deemed weren't 'old enough' entered the room. He'd heard his mother weeping softly and praying to the gods late, late in the night when she thought he and Pirka were asleep. He'd seen the tense, set lines in the faces of the women and elders of the village, the way the older kids would pause in their daily activities or training to gaze intently at the mountains looming ominously near the village, the heavy black clouds engulfing their tips. He found himselfcopying this action and gazing up, up, way up the mountains. It was only when his little sister off-handily questioned what he was looking for did he realize he really didn't know. On the wind, one could taste the coming winter, the witch of November stealing away into the night, covering the grounds with thick frost. There was already snow on the mountain; it wouldn't be long before the valley his village was nestled in would also be covered in a blanket of white…

Yet still, there was no sign of the men.

So, now it had come to this. He crouched off to the side with the other children who had not yet 'come of age', his sister snuggling deeply into his side under their blanket as he gazed intently into the fire. The elders had called a meeting. He gazed around the fire, his eyes heavily shadowed under his head band, taking in all the faces and words exchanged with the firm mindset that he wouldn't forget a single moment, not a single word, not a single blink of this night. He wouldn't let himself forget.

They were debating the assembly of a search party. They would send out a group of able-bodied boys and women, even a few elders who could keep up, to find their missing hunters.

He half-listened to the deep breathing of little Pirka, her head rested on his shoulder, sound asleep like most of the other children. He refused to let himself doze off, despite how late it was.

However, sending a search party was as dangerous as it was useless. Why risk the lives of the wives and sons of dead men?

He watched the embers spark off the fire and waft up into the gloomy abyss above their heads. It was cold this night. He couldn't help but think of his father, sitting somewhere high up in the mountains. His gaze drifted over to gaze sleepily into the inky blackness beyond the trees, the firelight flickering bizarrely, almost sinisterly across the bare limbs. Beyond this forest, lay the mountains, and his father…

But if the men failed to return, then they would all be dead as well.

He wondered, idly as he felt sleep close in around him, he was just so comfortable and warm with his sister nuzzling gently into his side, the crackling of the fire and lowered voices of the elders fading to a soft din, a strange lullaby in his ears. But the night was so, so very cold… And he wondered as he drifted off into the sweet oblivion of sleep, he wondered if his father was cold…

n.n

He gasped lightly as he plunged his now bare foot into the knee-deep sludge, pausing briefly to glimpse back at the indent in the sticky mud where he'd lost his boot. The three-year-old quickly decided the boot was a lost cause not worth the effort it would take to fish it back out and continued his search.

Father said they grew around this area…

n.n

He paused on the path, daypack slung over one shoulder as he gazed back at the still-sleeping village.

The verdict of the previous nights meeting had been simple. There would be no search. It was too risky, with the threat of heavy snow ridding the icy November winds, to send a group of women and children up the mountain would be to send them to their deaths. Instead, they were to pray, either that the men returned on their own, or that they could survive the winter on the grains they'd stored alone.

HoroHoro couldn't accept that decision. He knew his father wasn't dead- he'd promised him he'd buy him those marshmallows, and his father always kept his promises. The blue-haired boy nodded firmly as he made a quiet promise himself- he would return. After all, he was the honorary Man of the House until his father got back. He knew he was supposed to be protecting his mom and sister…

But right now, his father needed him. With that, he spun on his heel and marched off determinedly towards the mountains.

No Ainu ever left their brethren stranded.

n.n

He panted heavily, his tiny chest heaving as his mud-coated legs (not to mention torso and arms) trembled beneath his weight. He was exhausted, but at least he'd found what he'd been searching for… If you could even identify what it was under the thick coating of mud he'd managed to cover it in while trying to worm his way back out of the cesspool. It didn't matter to the three-year-old Ainu however; he clutched it gingerly against his chest, as if it was the most precious treasure in the world.

Sure enough, she was still there, weeping quietly under the toadstool. He'd always hated to see girls cry…

n.n

He ducked his head and raised his arm in front of his face in a vain attempt to hold off the thick, heavy wet snowflakes that pummelled his tiny, five-year-old form. The snow was so thick you couldn't even see two feet ahead of you, the cold white already piled up past his knees, yet still he ploughed on, the tiny voice crying outfor his father being easily swallowed by the howling winds. He called and called until his throat was too hoarse to even whisper anymore… And it was so, so cold, both his coat and the sweater he'd been wearing underneath soaked through and through, his feet literally sloshing in his boots from the cold, wet snow seeping in. He'd lost his daypack somewhere down the path while trying to conquer a snow drift the size of him. He figured it was back somewhere around the place where he'd strayed from the path. Yet still he searched, the thought of his father being even half as miserable as he was providedmore than enough incentive to drive him forward through the bitter, clawing winds and snow, pausing only long enough to occasionally wiggle his nose, his fingers, or his toes in a vain attempt to regain feeling in his extremities.

n.n

He watched her tremble again as he stumbled rather ungracefully closer, before flopping unceremoniously to his knees in front of the mushroom. She just looked so… pathetic, quivering like a leaf, trying to hide her face behind her tiny, tiny hands. She was so… small, even smaller than he was…And he was sure she'd be the prettiest Koropokkur in all the north if she wasn't so singed and dirty…

Then again, that wasn't her fault- it was the Machines…

n.n

At least the snow had stopped… somewhat. He stumbled weakly, groping and fondling his way along between the trees like a blind man. Even the horrible burning sensation in his feet had faded away to nothing. Numb. He could see his fingers, stuck in a cupping position due to his soaked woollen gloves freezing in the bitter November winds, but he couldn't feel them anymore. Not even when he banged it rather hard against the side of a tree, he could hear a distinct crunching noise, but there was no pain, just… numbness. He was having an extreme amount of difficulty even twitching a muscle in his face, and he was so hungry… But his food was lost with his daypack… He couldn't tell where he was, how long he'd been wandering, whether it was night or day, whether he was alive or dead… Yet still, he continued on. First, he had to find his father, then he'd worry about finding his way back to the village. Everything would work out just fine, and when they got back, his father would buy him one of those jumbo bags of marshmallows, then he and Pirka would munch on them while wrapped up in his favourite blanket, the one his grandmother made, in front of the fire, and he'd tell her all about his adventure in the mountains. But first, he had to find his father. He kept repeating this mantra over and over in his mind until it became a never-ending drone, overriding his failing senses and giving him the strength to stumble on.

Yet deep in the back of his mind, where he could easily ignore or deny the thought, lay the knowledge that the one of the reasons he was still moving, was because he was afraid if he stopped now, he'd never start again.

n.n

She looked up at him in surprise as he held the drooping leaf out in front of him. He smiled at her again, this time a sad smile. "It hurts, doesn't it?" She blinked up at him slowly. "I know what it's like to loose your home." He lowered his head to stare at the muddy little Butterbur leaf he'd managed to hunt down. Suddenly, it seemed so insignificant and small. "It really… it really hurts." He looked up and smiled again "But what's destroyed can be rebuilt. A house is just an object, a tool. A home is where your heart lays…" the Koropokkur blinked up at him again, her tiny mouth hanging open in a little pink 'o'. He scratched the back of his head sheepishly (thus the mud stains spread!) " Or at least that's what my mom says." He gazed down at her again, she'd made no move under the mushroom, just stared up at him with those wide, wet eyes. He felt his own eyes begin to well up, and he wasn't even sure why. "I know… I know I can't expect you to ever forgive humans for what they did to your field- and your family… But mom says it's rude to not even apologize when you know you've done something wrong… Those men… Why won't you at least let me say sorry for them?" the three-year-old sniffed and wiped his nose with his (muddy) arm, the small, chubby hand holding the mud-caked Butterbur leaf trembled slightly.

Two, much, muchsmaller hands reached out to tenderly grasp the ends of the wilted leaf.

n.n

He couldn't stop shaking. He was beginning to get a headache from the sound of his teeth clacking and crunching… he could taste blood and bone, yet still, he couldn't force his jaw to stop chattering if he wanted to. He swayed as if drunk, his clothes literally frozen onto his skin. He couldn't feel… anything. Not his hands, not his feet, his arms, legs, face, ears… the numbness spread like some kind of black cancer, dulling the pain in his body, in his mind. He was having trouble… remembering… His father. That's why he was here, he needed to find his… but he couldn't even find himself… oh where were his legs that he couldn't feel them yet, absurdly enough, they'd still be attached to his torso? What about his arms, his fingers… fingers… That's right, his father pinky swore… pinky swore he'd come home and… buy him… marshmallows… He decided he'd tell his father he really didn't want to go ice fishing anymore when he found him. He decided he didn't want anything to do with ice everagain. He leaned heavily against a tree and forcefully banged his head against the side until he could think somewhat straight again. No! He wasn't going to give up! He couldn't give up! He promised himself he'd make it back to the village! He had to protect his mom and sister- they needed him, he was the Man of the House! He wasn't going to let something as stupid as a bit of snow stop him!

Suddenly, he stumbled, then he was falling, falling forever into the beautiful, white drifts, and there he lay like some dead thing. The snow… felt strangely warm. Yes, so warm, and so very comfortable. His breathing began to slow as he watched the flakes drift slowly down from the cloudy heavens to land gracefully upon his frozen body. He was… tired. It felt like he'd been wandering for ages- It seemed like another lifetime since he'd last slept. He couldn't be expected to find his father when he was this sleepy, that wasn't fair at all. He'd… rest here. Just for a little… a little while…

He caught a blur of green from the corner of his eye. He turned his head lazily to stare at it, squinting into the muted greys of the surrounding forest. He blinked in surprise at what he saw.

A Koropokkur… They were supposed to bring… good luck. He smiled inwardly at the thought of his sisters face when he told her he'd seen a Koropokkur… Suddenly, it dashed out of his line of vision. He groaned and rubbed his eye wearily, then struggled to sit up. That frost spirit… they were the people of this mountain, he absently wondered if she'd seen his dad kicking around anywhere up here… Upon sitting up, he found the same tiny spirit, using a dainty butterbur leaf to keep the snow off her tiny form, standing no more than ten feet away from him.

"Hey." He croaked out, honestly surprised at how horrid his own voice sounded. "Have you seen my dad around here anywhere?" The Koropokkur simply stared at him for a while, then turned and darted off again, stopping about twenty feet away. HoroHoro moaned and struggled to his feet, once again finding a detached part of himself absolutely shocked at how much effort it took to simply stand up.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

His eyes darted between the mountain spirit and his own clumsy, awkward feet, forcing his legs to hold his weight, forcing one foot in front of the other, step after step after excruciating step. Each time he drew near, the Koropokkur would scamper off, only to stop and turn expectantly toward him again. Every time he fell, or he was sure he'd lost her, he'd simply look up to find her there, waiting, waiting, forever patiently waiting for him to struggle back up to his feet and stumble along to catch up to her. He wasn't sure how much time passed with the two of them entangled in their bizarre game- It could have been weeks. It could have been hours. The five-year-old Ainu didn't know or care, all that mattered, all that his whole world currently revolved around was this simple act of one foot in front of the other-Koropokkur run, stop, turn- one foot in front of the other…

n.n

His head whipped up to stare at her in shock.

And she smiled.

n.n

The villagers bustled frantically, elders and healers frenetically rushing this way and that, buzzing around the unconscious blue-haired boy that had mysteriously re-appeared during the night after being missing for almost four days. The poor boy was frostbitten, starved, and had developed phenomena, indeed the stakes seemed to be against the child, but for now he was alive, and…

"Madam, are you sure you're alright?" Polikka, startled from her knitting, stared up at the concerned visage of one of the village elders. Imagine, acting so worried and kind to her so shortly after forbidding her to search for her own son… The woman smiled serenely up at the elder.

"I would like some tea, if you don't mind." She chirped lightly before returning to her knitting. The creases in the elders face deepened with concern.

"You're acting very casual for a woman who's lost her husband and is quite close to loosing her son." The Ainu woman stopped knitting once again to look up at the old woman with a confident smile.

"I'm not at all worried," she began, her eyes gazing past the shrivelled elder to the tiny visitor perched comfortably upon the corner of her sons pillow, Butterbur leaf wafting lazily with the breezes stirred up by the frantic healers, its holder sound asleep, leaning against her boys shocking blue hair. "My HoroHoro won't die." Polikka smiled wistfully, 'He's in good hands.'

Ending Rant

Well, thus ending chapter two of this horrendous thing. Poor HoroHoro, his story wound up not being nearly as light-hearted and fun as Yohs… It also wound up about two pages longer to-boot o.O Whoosh!

Special thanks goes out to my lovely reviewers, without you guys I probably wouldn't have even continued this fic (however, this could be seen as a bad thing…)

Jade Eye's: Whoah, I keep thinking you're called 'Jade's Eyes' for some reason… But thank you for your review- I always thought Yoh would say something like that to poor Anna XD (Not that I actually think Anna is ugly.)

Vash: Thank you so much for your comment- I'm sorry this chapter wound up being… not at all funny… Er, I'll try harder to throw in some more light-hearted moments next chapter.

Hannah-asakura: Thank you for the review- they make me feel all squishy and lurved inside :)