A/N: Hokay, here's the second chapter. I know a few of you are very interested in this story, but I must say, what you're reading is merely a preview. I'm kind of in a writer's slump, so don't expect a lot of updates right now. However, in good news, I am watching Yu Yu Hakusho, so hopefully the creative juices will start flowing again.
Piles of books scattered over the cherry oak desk, not an inch of wood could be seen. Their bindings thickly coated with dust, their covers almost crumbling at the touch, this horrid state of disrepair a result of age and disuse. Now, after years of never being opened, they were finally exposed to the still night air and the prince's thirst for wisdom. The soft glow of candlelight scarcely illuminated their words of untold majesty as he read page after page, his weary eyes watering and aching at the tremendous strain put upon them ever since the guests departed. With only the company of thousands of volumes of forgotten lore and the historical attributes of his kingdom's past, the stillness of the room was oppressive and the silence, deafening, save the sound of paper turning every-so often. Nevertheless, in spite of this solitary evening, he pursued his search for knowledge and understanding of the enchanted blade. The moon peered through the window, as if inquiring of his reading, but he took no note of the luminous orb or any of the mundane things surrounding him, lost in his thoughts and in the hope that the stranger's proclaimations may indeed be true. Countless passages based on the tales of the Katana no Shoushin and of the people said to have grasped its might described only the carnal warfare and destruction left in its wake. Not one example indicated the sword contained healing powers. Until, after hours of probing and prodding, Hitotsu at last found an incident, which denoted the sword's use for such a purpose.
The tale spoke of an elderly man whose wife of many decades grew deathly ill. Far and wide, the man sought a cure, but none could be found. Torn with grief and sadness, yet unwilling to give in and allow his wife to die, he sought out the sword, reasoning if it could not save his beloved's life, it could at least spare her from dying alone. So for many months he searched and returned successful. Intently, the prince read on to find the end result of the man's quest but found the page missing, torn from its place among the others. Enraged, he threw the book aside and trudged up the glossy stone steps, down the hall to his room, where a soothing bath awaited him. At his request, the servant poured fragrances into the steaming liquid, filling the room with the scent of lilies and wild flowers. The prince sighed in relief as he stepped into the depths of relaxation and contentment. As he lay in the gentle rolling waters, his mind wandered back to the legend, contemplating whether the stranger knew the ending to the healing tale and therefore spoke of the prospect of his mother's health being restored. In order for his mounting questions to be answered, he would have to find the Enigmatic Fire and ask. Shaking his head, he decided to worry about such burdensome things later. Without a doubt, Nazonohi would return to the palace just as he had come. There was no need to fret. So for the time being, Hitotsu allowed himself a small portion of peace, free of all anxieties.
After a full half-hour, the prince emerged from the bath, his slender body wrapped in a silken robe of garnet. His scarlet hair draped about his shoulders, dripping with fragranced water, as he made his way to his mother's room. Though the hour was ungodly, he entered her chamber, observing her placid slumber while she dreamed away in her own little world. With his fingertips, he gently stroked the side of her face, then kissed her softly goodnight.
Entering his own chamber, he was greeted by his personal servant, Suichi, who helped him dress for bed. Relishing in the feel of the satiny fabric against his skin, he thanked Suichi and bid him goodnight. The old man gave a wide, toothless grin in response and left.
Enveloped by satin sheets, velvet pillows, and a comforter of premium down feathers, he slid the silk curtains, forming privacy around his canopy bed, closed and shut his eyes to dream of far-off places, of sloping valleys, and towering mountains in the distant lands. Wrapped in a shawl of moonbeams, Sleep tiptoed into his abode to sprinkle him with stardust and sands of Arabia and to sing to him the song of fancy. Smiling, he nestled down further within the folds of his bed, awaiting the lullling melody. Then, the sound of a window being silently forced opened made his breath quicken. Wide-awake, he sat upright, staring past the silk curtains surrounding his bed, past his bedroom door, trying to locate the room in which the prowler had entered. Using his acute hearing, the prince traveled through the darkness until he arrived at his mother's door. "Oh no," he cried and, grabbing his sword from under his mattress, raced down the deserted corridors to the threshold of adulterated sanctity.
Gripping his sword firmly, he took in a deep breath, fearing the worst and stealthily infiltrated the chamber. Darkness encased the room and concealed all life within it. So impenetrable was the gloom, he could not see his hand an inch from his eyes. Since sight was of no use, he tuned his other senses and detected another presence besides his soundly sleeping mother. Though the residual taste of the warrior's spirit was familiar, the size of the aura was insignificant, adding up to no more than that of a common housefly. A chilling breeze ambled through the drapes on the far side of the room. Yet no housefly could have broken into his abode and cause him so much dread. Circling around, he groped for the side of his mother's bed, but instead of feeling the cottony fabric of her summer blankets, something quite foreboding had replaced it - inhuman flesh, the smell of which and the texture being far different than his kin's.
Jumping away, he whipped out his sword in front of him towards where the intruder stood and, in a stern voice, called out, "Who are you? What have you done?"
"Forgotten already?" Before his very eyes, the weak aura blazed a powerful ice blue scattering sparks of dark red flame and purple, growing stronger at a rapid rate. Hitotsu was amazed at the drastic increase and was struck with awe. Who was this stranger?
Suddenly, a small flame flickered in the gloom, hovering in thin air amid the glowing spirit, and illuminated a blood-red eye. "No, it can't be," he stammered.
"Oh, but it is." The stranger said confidently. Hitotsu watched as the flame danced towards the hanging white lantern by his mother's bedside and lit the oil and wick, casting an orange glow across the walls. The fierce display of power died down as the light grew and the prince clearly saw that this young man was indeed Nazonohi.
Before the words could leave his mouth, the young man stated, "If you're wondering, I have the ability to mask my body signatures to amazing proportions, but I knew, considering your skill, you'd discover me no matter."
The prince was flabbergasted, but soon was distraught with other concerns. His eyes sailed over to his mother, wide with dread, but the stranger assured him, "She's fine. I did nothing to her."
"Then why are you here?"
"I merely wished to ascertain the severity of her condition." Nazonohi sat with crossed knee upon the canopy of the bed, staring down at the slumbering soul beneath. "She really is in a sorry state."
Infuriated by Nazonohi's insolence towards the former Queen, the prince protectively hunched over her, glaring fiercely at the intruder, and snarled, "You leave my mother out of this!"
Silence. The grandfather clock chimed in a melancholy tone that the hour of midnight had steadily approached. After the twelfth toll, the prince busied himself with tidy his mother's sheet and asked, "What are you doing here, really? The hour is quite ungodly. You must have a better reason than my mother's health."
"Perceptive, aren't you?" Nazonohi smirked. "Our search begins tomorrow."
"So soon," the prince inquired. "You asked but yesterday and there are so many things left undone."
"Like," His tone implying the need for a good excuse.
Hitotsu thought of one he believed would suit the seemingly slight stranger. "Tradition denotes prior to a long and harrowing journey, which this most assured shall be, a gallinaceous feast must be prepared and eaten..."
"Forget it," snapped the dark flame. "We're setting off in the morning and that's final. No fancy dinners."
"I at least need to inform my people." The prince headed for the door to make preparations but Nazonohi immediately jumped from the canopy and blocked his escape.
"No. You shall do nothing of the sort."
"Where do you get the gall to give me orders? For you impudence, I should slay you!"
"A sword is the only weapon you have?" The enigmatic stranger chuckled, bounding over to the open window. Staring out at the velvet darkness surrounding the castle, he rested his arm against the marble sill. "Well, considering nearly a hundred men under my command are waiitng outside, it appears I have the upper hand."
Hestitantly the prince approached him and followed his gaze. His hand flew to his mouth to cover his disbelief. Below him, filling the castle courtyard and streaming out into the moors and forest, were hundreds of thousands of hideous and grotesque creatures, some resembling man, while others were most beastly and ethereal, all armed with weapons promising mass destruction and eradication of whomever stood in their path. What surprised the prince most of all, was not only the vast amounts of subjects the stranger had been produced in such short time, but the fact he felt nothing. He sensed no presence or life besides his mother and Nazonohi. The only sense the hordes touched was sound. Their voices, gruff and sickly sweet, the churning sound of metal scraping upon metal, being sharpened for their upcoming posts, all coiled in Hitotsu's ears like vile worms.
Fighting the urge to turn away, he asked, breathless with confusion and disgust, "Why can't I sense them?"
Nazonohi merely laughed, a chilling and hollow note, which left a bitter taste in his mouth. In those few moments, Hitotsu swore the stranger's face had changed. The passive and coldly stoic quality was gone. His eyes glowed a deep scarlet, his features laced with hidden intent and maliciousness. His aura became ominous, filled with animosity and ill will. The prince shivered, shutting his eyes and hoping what he was seeing - feeling - was nothing more than a bad dream or a misconception. After a few moments of silence, he peeked open an eye and saw Nazonohi, his hard-set scowl and seriousness having returned, or having never left. Giving him a stern look, he bluntly stated, "I'll be back at dawn. You had better be prepared." With his words, a strong wind blew, causing the candle to flicker wildly, and with the dancing shadows, the stranger faded into the darkness.