Lhadoman's mother bears no relation to Kisa from FB.
Disclaimer: FB isn't mine, nor is anything else you recognize.
Chapter 25
Asheno
That was the way it used to be. They came to me so easily, like birds have always done. The Dzuni instinctively knew to always return to me, their god. But no, not this generation. They try to avoid me. Me! Nothing went right with them. They didn't transform when hugged by members of the opposite sex. Haku and the dragon girl transformed on random occasions. Hatsuharu fights against me, and that idiot boar is starting to follow his lead.
I was supposed to get my Dzuni back. So I could die like I was always supposed to. My health stays the same, neither improving nor disintegrating. I, who is supposed to suffer and give his life as a sacrifice for the Dzuni!
All the trouble to bring back the curse, to allow me to die as I was fated to, to have my ultimate revenge on him…him, the one who broke the curse.
The sparrow chirped cheerily on my finger. How dare it sing happily. The delicate bones crunched as I closed my fist, squeezing the life out of the bird.
Yes…at least I had located the other Dzuni. Soon they would all be back, in their proper home. Yes, the situation merely called for extra patience. They would go to school, see how abnormal they were, be ostracized and teased by the rest of the student body, and realize they all belonged with me. Me, the only one who could save them.
But Hathori probably knew these children existed. Damn him…I can't order him to erase his own memory. The only thing to do is never let him into the house and keep that Rhena woman close by. Hathori helped him break the curse. I know it.
No matter. The time would come when my former Dzuni would watch the new generation submit to me. Heh heh, if Hathori had told the others about the children, they had most likely spent these past years in torment over the possibility of the curse returning. Yes, I like that. Especially him, who worked behind my back, poisoning the others against me, broke the curse and made me live…I would make sure he saw me breaking the spirit of his Dzuni successor.
Ah, Asheno, priorities, priorities. Now about getting the cat back in Lhasa. Time to start acquainting the cat with his fate as the outcast of the Dzuni.
A rhythmic scratching attracted Haku's attention, as he staggered out of his room, shirt untucked and pants wrinkled. In the last two weeks, undisturbed sleeps were few and far in between, with the overload in visions Haku had been subjected to. His nap had been blessedly dreamless. His ears traced the scratching to Lhurone's room. The placid teenager sat on his bed, finally fully recovered from his injuries. The bed was actually worthless, since Lhurone could now not sleep unless in a standing position. A growing pile of wood shavings fell between his legs as the knife flicked back and forth over the wood.
"Hello, Haku," Lhurone looked up into Haku's questioning eyes. "I suddenly felt the impulse to carve a random piece of wood. Apparently my Dzuni possesses amazing woodworking skills when it decides to."
"I still can't get used to your new sophisticated vocabulary," Haku muttered as he took the wooden piece from Lhurone. "I remember when you used 'fuck' every other word." They laughed.
"My Dzuni is very articulate as well, it would seem," shrugged Lhurone.
"Lhurone, do you realize what you've made?" As he turned the carving over in his hand, Haku's eyes widened in amazement.
"Hmm? I suppose I didn't pay close attention. It just happened."
"This is a flute."
"Oh, Haku, look at those rumpled clothes! Did you spend the night in a brothel?" Khosure's teasing voice sang from down the hallway. "Perhaps a few lovely ladies were entertaining you?"
"Shut up. Lhurone made a flute."
"Lhurone, I always thought you had an artist's soul tragically trapped inside of you," Khosure exclaimed as he stood on his tiptoes to peek over Haku's shoulder. "Ooooh…"
The flute still had a few knots to be carved out, but the surface was already smooth. A horse's arched head formed one end of the flute, with its open mouth serving as the hole. The mouthpiece end flared to counterbalance the weight of the horse's head. The instrument sat well in the hand.
"What's that on the sides?" Khosure grabbed the flute. "Wings?" The etchings of feathers were clearly visible among the holes and sides. The mane melted into the carved lines.
"Can you play it?' Lhurone took the flute and put the mouthpiece to his lips. A peaceful low melody emerged and caressed Khosure and Haku lovingly. Worries simply floated away on the notes, rinsing out all negative feelings, encasing the teenagers in a soft, fluffy warmth.
"Well, that was a surprise." The comment by Lhurone interrupted the blissful spell grasping the other two. "I've never played an instrument before."
Khosure blinked his eyes. Rationality returned to Haku.
"Wow, what kind of Dzuni are you? Do you know yet, Haku?" asked Khosure in a still-spellbound voice.
"Some kind of horse…" said Haku, "but like the rest of us, your Dzuni is going to be completely different from what Asheno expects, Lhurone." He had yet to see the actual horse in his visions, and didn't have a good idea of what the horse had been like. A rumbling diverted his thoughts.
"I got to eat something."
"Yes, go, you look like you were the one in a gang thingamajingy," Lhurone said, waving the flute towards the door.
Continuing to feel muddled, Haku stumbled down the stairs. At the bottom, dizziness overcame him and he veered to the left, stopping on the back porch. As he refocused, he found himself looking at the fountain. But wait, Hotohori had left it in smoking, blackened ruins…did it get rebuilt already?
"What is that smell? Is it the monster?" The dreaded voice. Asheno's voice as a young child. It had come out of Haku! Haku looked down and saw the creature he'd seen at the cat's birth, except it was now slightly larger. A bracelet with alternating crimson and ivory white beads lay nearby. Oh, not another vision. And from Asheon's perspective, too!
Asheno turned to Shehure, now fourteen. The elder boy wore a polo shirt and khakis, a rare occasion for the hekasho lover. Haku heard himself demand in Asheno's voice, "Why is he here?"
Shehure smiled reassuringly. "Lhadoman is only here to pay you his respects."
"Well, I don't want to see him anymore. He doesn't belong here!"
A whine escaped Lhadoman, looking confusedly at Shehure and Asheno. Shehure, arms crossed, regarded the pathetic creature seriously. Haku discerned a look of pity flickering across Shehure's face.
"Go on in, Asheno. I'll deal with him."
Asheno ran back into the house as Shehure approached Lhadoman, saying, "There, it's all right. I'll just wait here until you turn human again, ok? Then I'll take you back to your mother."
His mother was constantly telling him she loved him.
"I love you, Lhadoman," she'd say, pulling up his sleeve to make sure the bracelet was still there. Whenever the bracelet slipped off and Lhadoman reverted to his true form, his mother would tear through the house, upending everything in a desperate search, not looking at him until she recovered the bracelet.
Then there were the times Lhadoman asked her why she never took him outside. Her response usually took the form of: "You're so cute I don't want anybody else to see you." He knew it was a lie. The five-year-old spent most of his time sitting in his room, wondering what lay beyond the curtain that blocked his view of the outside world. He'd become quite a good reader—Shehure often gave him a big bag full of books when his mother took him for a rare visit to the main house. Lhadoman kept the books hidden under a loose floorboard he'd discovered. He didn't think Mama would approve of his reading books.
The only other activities he had were having silent meals with his mother, and listening to his father scream at her. His father was a short, ugly man, and he drank a lot.
"Out drinking again, bum?" The one time Lhadoman saw both parents together, his mother became unusually animated. "When are you going to get a real job, you worthless man?" She followed him into the TV room. "When I married you, I thought you were…"
"Shut up, bitch!"
"Who are you to tell me to shut up?"
"You're the one who had the little monster, Khisa!" She stormed out of the room, face white, and stopped when she saw Lhadoman, gripping his cold cup of juice.
"Go to your room, Lhadoman." Khisa's shoulders sagged and she walked to the sink, picking up dishes to rinse out. The boy lost no time in obeying her.
Maybe Khisa had once been pretty, but now Lhadoman saw the sharp cheekbones, the dark shadows under her unfeeling eyes, and how her clothes hung on her frame loosely. The strained smile whenever Lhadoman talked to her. The doctor, an elderly man with thick glasses, often tried to check on Khisa, but she brushed him off with an "I'm fine, doctor, thank you." She stopped seeing her friends a long time ago.
One day Lhadoman sat in the sunlight (he enjoyed bathing in its warmth), reading a fantastical tale about a brave prince rescuing a princess from the clutches of an evil witch. The witch rode her giant black panther through the clouds in pursuit of the prince and princess, getting closer, closer, closer…CRACK! The loud explosion ricocheted for a split second. Lhadoman flipped onto all fours, hair on end. He relaxed as the house remained silent, but his nose caught an unfamiliar, tangy smell.
Cautiously, he edged the door open, and seeing no one, made his way to the stairs. If Mama found out he'd left the room without permission, she'd be angry. Remembering to dodge the creaky step, Lhadoman peeked around the banister to the kitchen door, where the sunlight bounced off a metallic object. The black, glistening object looked a little like the space weapons Lhadoman read about in a picture book, but it was so small and only one color. He'd probably be able to hold it in his hand.
As he edged closer, a hand came into view, open as though stretching towards the shiny toy. Oh, it was his mother's hand…Lhadoman froze, his amber eyes reflecting the pooling blood from…he saw no more after he rushed back into his room, resolving to shut himself up until Mama woke up again and called him. He didn't move even when his father screamed.
"The poor woman, it's no wonder she committed suicide."
"Having to look after a child like that."
The whispering accompanied the speeches and its acidity and scornful pity undercut the mournful tone of the national song as it played while Khisa was lowered into her grave. Lhadoman didn't even hear any of the song, the whispering blocked all other sounds.
"The cat is so difficult to deal with."
"Such an unpleasant little thing. They always are."
"Yes, nothing like the rat."
"Oh, yes, the rat is a beautiful child."
The last comment, made by a trusted old house servant, induced Lhadoman to finally raise his head to his surroundings, looking for the rat boy. Shoma Huki stood at a second-story window in the main house, watching the proceedings. His fine hekasho couldn't hide the fact that he had a sickly body, all too obvious from his thin, pallid face. Asthma plagued Huki on a regular basis, and rarely did Asheno, fearing for his favorite's health, allow him outside of the main house. Like the cat, Huki knew little of the world outside his room. Whenever he met his father, Huki saw the same bitter, angry grimace that now graced the face of Lhadoman's father.
Huki frowned sadly as the coffin was slowly lowered into the family crypt, nonplussed by "The Flame Trees of Thika." It'd always reminded him of rainy days clearing up, only to be followed by a darkening of the clouds and more rain. It held a promise, a false promise of happiness and beauty which would never arrive. The cat made eye contact with Huki, and Huki gave him a solemn nod, trying to convey his sympathy.
"Huki is such an intelligent boy, and sweet, too."
"Too bad the cat couldn't be the sickly one instead."
"Well, he gave his mother enough trouble just by being the cat."
"If Khisa had had a normal child…"
So the rat was looking at him, smiling at him. Lhadoman stared at Huki. What a wimpy kid, sick all the time and skinny. Why did everybody love him so much? And everybody hated him, just because he was the cat, and blamed him for his mother's death…Lhadoman rewarded Huki's gesture with a ferocious glare, and ran from the circle of mourners into the garden.
His nimble feet flew over the paved walkway, past unseeing statues and wilting flowers long past their blooming days. A hint of the snow and ice to come lingered in the grayish tinges lining the leaves. Breathing hard, Lhadoman staggered to a stop in a part of the garden unknown to him. But the voraciously crawling branches and the swarthy plants, tangling with each other, brought comfort through their resemblance to Lhadoman's stormy emotions. Here were friends to listen to him, who wouldn't criticize him or point their fingers at him and whisper behind covert hands…
"It's not my fault!" he screamed, the dammed tears flooding forth. His fists banged against his thighs, and he bent over, sobbing.
"I didn't kill Mama! It's not my fault! IT'S NOT MY FAULT!"
"You're right, it's not your fault." The soothing male voice caused Lhadoman to hiccup, straightening in surprise.
"I didn't kill Mama," weakly repeated Lhadoman.
"No, you didn't kill your mother," affirmed Shoma Khazuma, five years older than when Haku saw him last. The young man was now a professional martial artist, and had recently opened his own teaching center in northern Lhasa, near the foot of the mountains. For a few moments he regarded the silently sobbing boy. Then Khazuma asked, "Lhadoman, do you know who I am?"
Distracted by the sudden question, Lhadoman ceased crying. Wiping a red eye with one fist, he said, "You're a martial artist, right? I've heard people at the main house talk about you."
"Yes, that's right." Khazuma smiled, then knelt down and placed a large hand on Lhadoman's bony shoulder. "I have a question for you. Would you like to live with me?"
"Live with you?" Lhadoman scanned Khazuma with new interest. The last few days under his father's wing had been horrible. His father kept wandering the house, muttering and taking deep gulps from a liquor bottle. The times Lhadoman dared approached him, his father flung vicious curses and attempted to smack the boy (only to miss because the liquor interfered with his coordination too much). By contrast, the man in front of Lhadoman was clean, young and very pleasant. A dark cloud crossed Lhadoman's mind.
"But I'm the cat." Nobody wanted anything to do with the cat, he could see that easily enough.
Khazuma only chuckled ruefully. "That's not a problem. You see, my grandfather was the cat before you were born. My grandfather was a very good and kind man. I'm only sorry I didn't know him better," he muttered, as a regretful afterthought.
"R-really?" Never had Lhadoman heard one positive sentence uttered about the cat before.
"I've spoken with Asheno and he gave me permission to take you home." Even though only eight years old, Asheno held complete sway over the Dzuni. "I think being near the mountains, in a high place with clean, fresh air, will do you a lot of good." Standing, he lifted Lhadoman and swung him up onto his shoulder.
"Eep!" yelped Lhadoman.
"It's about time you saw more of the world besides this compound," declared Khazuma, exiting the northwest corner. The world suddenly shed its tired, autumnal appearance and took on a gleam in Lhadoman's eyes. He would see mountains close up, meet new people, and for all too brief a time break free from his jail.