Disclaimer: Natsuki Takaya owns FB, and anything else you recognize is also not mine.
Chapter 38
Asheno wasted no time in sending a contingent of Dzuni on a mission to retrieve one of their number. The next day, he ordered Hatsuharu, Khezuke, and Hatsumi out to the Gashuni district. As the chauffeur drove, all three boys were looking out the window.
"I used to live here," said Khezuke quietly.
"Looks like a decent enough place," remarked Hatsumi. "A little run down in some spots, though." From the tidbits he'd heard about Lhasa, every neighborhood (except Mhagenu, of course) had gone slightly downhill since the economy slid into a depression three years ago.
Hatsuharu shook his head. "Not nearly as run down as Ghunene. It's hell there." The memory of the shack Khosure once called home depressed Hatsuharu's spirits even more. He frowned, observing the heavy clouds blanketing the sky. A gloomy, oppressive humidity pressed down upon the city. With an instinctive caution, Hatsuharu calculated the risks of a harithe, despite its being out of season. No, it would be just rain, no wind.
Finally, the sedan stopped in front of a two-story concrete townhouse, beginning to show dilapidation from age. A policeman, distinctive in the yellow uniform, stood in the open doorway, talking to an agitated middle-aged woman.
"Damn, I hope this doesn't involve…Shidora," Hatsuharu finished after reading the name again on a slip of paper. "Let me get out first. Wait here."
"Are you from the Shoma estate?" The woman immediately asked, after seeing Hatsuharu leave the ornate car. Only a Mhagenu resident could afford such a vehicle.
"Yes, I am." Hatsuharu nodded to the officer, who bowed to the woman and left.
"What was that about?" queried Hatsuharu. "You are Mrs. Shumura, I assume?"
"Shidora ran away again," Mrs. Shumura said, clasping and unclasping her hands. The repeated motion distracted Hatsuharu greatly. "She does it quite often, and the police are used to it. They just keep an eye out for her whenever we call them." Mrs. Shumura said it so matter-of-factly, that Hatsuharu had difficulty believing her at first.
"But to run away today of all days!" Mrs. Shumura sighed, with the air of a woman exasperated with a fickle house cat. "There are special circumstances this time," she explained to a disgusted Hatsuharu, "Shidora became quite upset when we told her this morning she was leaving, and that we'd only taken her in for the money. Life is harder these days, but I'm sure you wouldn't know that, being one of the overprivileged—"
"Thank you, Mrs. Shumura, for taking care of Shidora," interrupted Hatsuharu coldly and formally. "I assure you, the family is very grateful, and we'll take care of Shidora from now on. You won't have to be concerned about her anymore."
"Will we get the final check soon?" she asked.
Hatsuharu ignored the question and yelled to the waiting car, "Hatsumi, Khezuke, will you get Shidora's stuff into the car?"
They left as soon as they stuffed the last of Shidora's bags into the overflowing trunk, glad to leave the callous Shumuras behind.
"I don't think they were even that poverty-stricken," whispered Khezuke, when he shut the car door behind him. "Their furniture looked really comfortable."
"Ha, we know what they spent Asheno's money on," replied Hatsuharu bitterly. "In any case, we need to find Shidora. Our esteemed head said she was a tiger, so she's supposed to have a yellowish-orange hair."
"She'll stick out enough, if we can figure out where to look," said Hatsumi, balancing a battered brown leather suitcase on his lap.
"Shidora usually stays within the Gashuni area whenever she runs away, apparently," Hatsuharu said, scanning the streets and alleys as the car passed by. "That was the only useful information that woman had to offer." The first raindrops splashed on the windows, and quickly progressed into a heavy downpour.
"I hope she's got shelter," murmured Khezuke, his forehead furrowed.
Hatsuharu pressed the intercom button. "Slow down, please, Lonisi," he ordered the driver, who immediately obliged. Thus they wound their way through the streets of Gashuni, half an hour passing, then a full hour.
The car presently parked next to a run-down park, with heavy bushes. It still rained heavily, as the boys conferred on their next course of action. A dark shape apparated in the rain, headed for the car.
"Help!" screamed a voice. Hatsumi rolled the window down slightly, and they could hear the homeless woman's yells better. "There's a tiger in the park!"
Shidora left an indelible impression upon Hatsumi, in the form of a vicious bite on his left forearm. Back at the main kitchen of the Shoma estate, Shidora, wrapped in a thick blanket, kept apologizing profusely while Rhena applied a thick bandage to Hatsumi's arm.
"I panicked when I turned into a tiger," pleaded Shidora, her yellow eyes desperate. "Momma made me so mad, and I don't know what—"
"I told you already, it's fine," said Hatsumi, a little impatiently. The bite marks stung as Rhena drowned them in a healthy amount of alcohol.
"Good heavens, you have sharp teeth, Shidora, and a lot of them, too," observed Rhena. "Use them with care, dear."
"Why did I turn into a tiger?" asked Shidora.
"It's a long story, Shidora," said Hatsumi. "Agh!" Rhena had moved on to another set of punctures.
"Hotohori will be happy to have another girl in the Dzuni," concluded Rhena.
"We'll explain everything, tonight, Shidora," Hatsumi went on through gritted teeth. "And you'll meet everyone else. Yi! Rhena, can't you pour a little less alcohol on these bites!"
"I won't shirk my duty, 'tis not my way," Rhena chastised, "and you'll not be happy if one of those gets infected and your arm has to be cut off, Rhenuth Hatsumi."
"Oh, no!" said Shidora.
"Now, now, dear," cooed Rhena, smiling, "keep that blanket tightly wrapped, darling, I don't want you getting pneumonia. And Hatsumi's arm won't be coming off, not if I have anything to say about it." The alcohol bottle descended threateningly upon Hatsumi once again.
Aside from biting Hatsumi, Shidora's introduction to the Dzuni progressed smoothly. She and Hotohori got along well from the start, primarily because they came from similar backgrounds, where their guardians were concerned. In both cases, their guardians had taken the children for the monetary incentive. Shidora had also been a youngest child, who was totally devalued compared to her older brother and sister. Running away had been her only ticket to attention, and she was retrieved only because the Shumuras' money supply from Asheno would be cut off if they lost her.
Haku
Shidora had been at the estate for a week, and the ghost was silent the entire time. I made good use of the respite, guessing it would be all too brief. With help from Rhena, my room progressed from disaster area to merely disorganized, and Rhena tamed my formidable pile of laundry.
"Rhena," I said, while folding the last load of clothes, "do you know where the family doctor is?"
My seemingly dumb question surprised her. "Well, Haku, you should know—his house is on the east side of the garden." She critically surveyed old stains on a dark red hekasho well past its prime. "Gracious, Haku, your clothes are getting disgraceful. You ought to buy new ones. Wouldn't hurt you to be more careful about spilling, either."
"No, not the current doctor." The clothes could wait. "I meant the doctor who erased Dze's memory when Hatsuharu and I were babies."
She picked up another ancient hekasho and clucked at its deterioration, but her eyes eventually turned blank.
"Rhena?"
"No, I don't know," answered Rhena after a long pause. "He never gave me any information. Didn't I tell you that? And I didn't try to find out neither, because I knew Asheno was watching me. You shouldn't try—not right now, anyway. I want to make sure you're really well first." There was no need for her to say Asheno was also keeping a close eye on me; both of us knew that perfectly well. Since the dinner table incident, I'd felt Asheno's malevolent eyes burning into me whenever our paths crossed, which wasn't often.
"You should finish folding those shirts. I won't allow you to get any sloppier than you already are, if I have anything to say about it," declared Rhena. She looked at the laundry room clock, and rose from her stool. "Well, I must get dinner started. I suppose I should make one of Asheno's favorites." She grimaced. "He's been in such a foul mood lately." Grunting, she lifted the basket.
"Let me get that," I said, reaching for the full basket.
"That's very nice of you, dear, but finish those shirts," ordered Rhena. "I can manage this fine. Ah, yes," she stopped, turning to face me again. "I know about the ghost now, Haku."
"What?" I almost yelled. "What ghost?"
"Calm down, and hush, someone'll hear," Rhena shook her head. "Hatsuharu told me about your ghost wolf. Oh, don't give me that look, it'll be all right." Her body enveloped me in her familiar bone-crunching hug. "I still love you, and I won't treat you any differently. But I want you to be able to talk to me if you have problems. A handsome, growing boy like you shouldn't have to keep so many secrets. Too many worries make your face wrinkle earlier. Or is it your back gets bowed?" Despite myself, I gave a small smile. "That's better. Now finish those shirts."
"You're not afraid of the wolf, are you?" I asked. "Or me?"
"Darling," sighed Rhena, picking the basket up again, "in this house, Asheno's a bigger threat than any piffling ghost. Even a ghost with honest-to-goodness fangs."
Hatsuharu watched Haku struggle for control of the ghost during the entire dinner that night. As the only other person besides Hatsuharu and Haku to have personally observed the carnage Faran-Zhuku could wreak, Lhurone kept as vigil a watch, across the table from Haku. The excessive blinking and shaking of his head indicated a "fit," as the Dzuni had termed the moments when Haku would experience the same sort of incomplete visions he had at the very beginning of the ghost's takeover of his life. Suddenly hearing the voice of a distraught person from the past, or a younger Asheno screaming at the former Dzuni, never failed to disturb Haku, no matter how often he heard such bits of sound. This would be true for the rest of his life, as long as Faran-Zhuku lived.
Normally such "fits" only lasted a minute at most, and the ghost would restrain himself again. However, this fit had been lasting for a full five minutes, and Lhurone could tell Asheno was wondering if the ghost was trying to come out, to attack somebody, perhaps?
"You are excused, Haku," announced Asheno tersely. "Clearly you are feeling ill again."
In his relief, Haku didn't even thank Asheno, and ran at top speed to his room. Even as he opened the door, he knew the ghost would be waiting on his bed.
"So you were warming up for more?" asked Haku sarcastically. He immediately regretted his question when he saw Faran-Zhuku much the worse from wear. The wolf's ribs stuck out rather visibly—apparently, ghosts could become emaciated. The bald spots, cuts and bites were no better.
"But you were getting better," protested Haku. "Have you started chewing on yourself again?" Instinctively he reached out to inspect a bloody forelimb, and withdrew just as the vicious jaws just missed his fingers.
"Don't get too close," growled Faran-Zhuku, twitching his head. Haku wisely retreated until his back rested against the door. "But is rather nice you concerned for me."
"You haven't rested enough," ventured Haku when it seemed Faran-Zhuku had settled onto his bed more calmly. For the first time, looking at the wolf's precarious condition, it occurred to Haku that Faran-Zhuku could die.
"No," answered the wolf, sensing the boy's thoughts. "I been through much worse than this and lived. Unfortunately," Faran-Zhuku added as an afterthought, "for I seen and been through too many horrible things, and remember them all."
"Still, you ought to rest more," said Haku more firmly. Nevertheless, his fidgeting betrayed his uncertainty about how to answer to such an uncharacteristically personal admission from the ghost. Haku couldn't be sure, but he was fairly certain the ghost had just given him a look of pity. The red eyes, no longer shocking to Haku, focused squarely upon him. For a fleeting moment, he saw the abyss of time and hidden secrets that lay behind the wolf's unknown years. Such moments never failed to disturb him, even after experiencing them so many times. He didn't like being reminded of how little he still knew. Haku's sight blurred, every object in his room turning red until he saw nothing but a vivid, glowing redness.
It was also summertime in the vision, like in Haku's life. The wolf had transported him into Hathori's office, where the doctor did all his paperwork and accounts. Right now, Hathori stared blankly down at his desk, his eyes not processing the letters on the paper before him. The sun shone fully on his back from the one window in the room. A pen sagged in his right hand, with the free hand massaging his temple. Everything in the room seemed to share the doctor's fatigue and disorder. Papers were piled high on the desk, and had begun claiming space on any other available surfaces, like the chairs and bookshelves. The window provided the only source of light. Hathori's outfit was crumpled, and his tie knot hung twisted and loosely. Heavy bags under his eyes and reddened eyes attested to major sleep deprivation issues. He'd also neglected his shaving, sporting a two days' growth.
The door timidly creaked open. A sharply defined nose and a hazel eye peeked through the crack at the doctor who remained oblivious to the disturbance.
"Doctor." The door decisively swung open the rest of the way, revealing a concerned Karan. "You should rest, you've been working yourself too hard lately."
With a small exclamation, Hathori jerked and straightened in his chair. As he reordered his thoughts, he finally recognized the intruder. "Karan," he breathed, slumping. "We need more…"
"How can you think about supplies, with the condition you're in?" scolded Karan. "I'll take care of Lhadoman's file, and you get some sleep right now!" Before her boss could lift a finger, she grabbed the file he'd been staring at so blankly.
"Karan." Hathori thought once again, what a really good woman she was despite her slight propensity for nosiness. She was very different from Hana—she was perceptive, very curious, and also very talkative. He didn't mind the talking at all; it was refreshing in a household where so many secrets lurked. Hathori wished he could confide in Karan about the curse. It would make his job so much easier, if he had someone outside the Dzuni he could trust. The tight, exclusive Dzuni social scene could be very asphyxiating. Too much had happened with Lhadoman lately, and Asheno had been especially taxing, even lashed out at Shehure…
Reading the doctor's sudden wistful expression accurately, Karan quietly asked, "Is there anything you want to talk to me about, Hathori?" It was the first time she'd ever used his name in addressing him, and it surprised him.
Karan decided it was time she told him. "Hathori," she continued, keeping her voice low, "I know about the curse."
"What curse?" replied Hathori automatically, out of a deeply rooted instinct to protect the secret.
"The Dzuni curse. Lhoru told me about it, because she felt I could be trusted. She said it might enable me to treat Lhadoman more easily if I understood his problems better." Karan suppressed a smile at Lhoru's clumsy lie; she had no doubt Lhoru's real intent had been matchmaking. Perhaps she and Nharu, the doctor's ward, were in cahoots; Nharu never shied to praise Hathori in Karan's hearing. Certainly, Karan had admitted to herself long ago she'd developed feelings for the doctor, but he was so distant that she couldn't bring herself to act on them.
"She told you about it," echoed Hathori, slowly nodding.
"Yes." Karan let Hathori take the reins, wary of his reaction. Thus far his expression remained inscrutable, blank.
"So now you know about it. You know about it." Suddenly Hathori winced, and his hands tightened around the ends of the armrests. A new urgency appeared in his voice when he asked, "Karan, have you told anybody?"
"No. Lhoru made sure to tell me it was a huge secret, though I'd already sensed so," answered Karan promptly. The girl had had the same urgent, fearful look Hathori now possessed, when she told Karan to never, ever tell anybody about the curse. "Why are you afraid? What happens if an outsider learns of the curse? Lhoru didn't want to tell me that much." Karan's fingers ached, and she realized she'd been gripping the chair for dear life. She let go, and flexed her hands.
Hathori didn't notice. He slumped back in his chair, and motioned Karan to sit. For a minute, Hathori kept moving his lips, trying to figure out how to begin. Strange, the doctor thought to himself, that he should more relief rather than apprehension at Karan's revelation. Well, he had just been wishing for an outsider he could confide in, after all.
Finally, the doctor looked at Karan and asked, "What did Lhoru say about Asheno?"
"Asheno?" Karan instinctively grimaced. "She didn't say anything except that he was the god of the Dzuni, the Dzuni have to follow his orders, and that because he's the god, he's also head of the Shoma family. But I know there's much more to that, there has to be." Given an opening, all of her repressed negative views of Asheno spilled forth in a deluge. "He's insane, sadistic. It's clear as day to me that he doesn't treat or respect his family the way a family head ought to, in my opinion. Nharu acts terrified around him, Lhoru is scared of him, and I'm positive he gave Lhadoman all those bruises. Everybody talks about him in either a totally subservient, fearful way or with outright hatred. The servants gossip about his beating them! He's sick all the time and works you into the ground! I'm sure he hired me specifically to bother you, although I don't know in what way..." Realizing how personal she'd gotten, she left the last statement hanging. Her cheeks felt flushed and her breath came a little too quickly. Hathori was looking down at his desk, seemingly oblivious to Karan's presence.
"I'm sorry," Karan spoke hastily, embarrassed. "I became too involved. I'll go now, doctor." She began to rise.
"No, stay," ordered Hathori, waking from his ponderous mood. "It's refreshing to hear someone with the courage to admit Asheno is insane." He gave her a small, bitter smile. "The Dzuni have treated the family head with complete deference for so long it's become an unwritten rule never to call the head insane, except in extreme cases."
"And Asheno isn't 'extreme'?" One thin eyebrow rose in Karan's face.
"No, my father, Asheno's predecessor, was far worse." Hathori leaned forward on the desk towards Karan. Seeing her look of surprise, Hathori continued, "Oh yes, we're quite a close-knit family. But I don't want to go into that now. Everything you said earlier about Asheno is true, Karan. Each Dzuni god goes mad, suffers ill health, and dies before his or her 25th birthday. It's a very difficult life, and Asheno's no exception."
Hathori sighed, and shifted in his seat. "Asheno wants all of his Dzuni to remain very close to him, and he is most attached to Shehure. You've met Shehure, haven't you?"
"The pervert?" Karan did remember him quite well. He'd made plenty of lewd jokes at her expense, and all in front of Hathori.
Hathori chuckled mirthlessly. "Yes, you remember who he is. He's one of my dearest friends, actually—he doesn't always act like a pervert. It's always been his greatest desire to free himself of the curse, and he's been trying to find the cure for a long time now."
"And he found it? Is that why Asheno beat Lhadoman?"
"Not quite. Shehure hoped he'd found the cure, but it didn't work. You see, Lhadoman is special in the Dzuni. Are you familiar with the old Hothan story about the banquet the Lord of the Heavens invited the Dzuni animals to?"
"Yes," nodded Karan. "My mother told it to me many times."
"Lhadoman is the Cat."
"The cat that was tricked by the rat and missed the banquet?"
"Right. The cat has its own unique curse in the Shoma family. The bracelet that Lhadoman wears—the white and red one—prevents him from transforming into his true form, which consists of an ugly insectoid that gives off a terrible stench. He can transform into a regular cat if he gets sick or hugged by a girl, but unless he puts the bracelet back on quickly, he transforms into the true form. Traditionally, the family treats the cat as an outcast, and the cat is usually isolated in a small hut on the estate grounds, shut off from contact with the world."
Since first moving to Hoth six months ago, Karan had become fairly accustomed to its vastly different climate and culture. However, as she listened to Hathori speak about gods and a curse that turned people into animals, disbelief colored everything she heard. In Zi Alda, children were strictly taught that magic wasn't real, that it was just an illusion to deceive the stupid. Even though she knew Lhoru was a truly sincere and honest girl, she'd had trouble believing the girl.
"And this is real?" Karan found herself saying. "It's not just an elaborate form of control?"
"Let me show you." Hathori stood up, and walked over to Karan's side. "I'm one of the Dzuni. Hug me, and you'll see me transform."
Karan hesitated, shy about touching the doctor, much less hugging him. Silly girl, she scolded herself, calm down.
"It's okay, I don't bite in my animal form," Hathori said seriously. "Oh, one thing—don't put me in water after I transform. Just leave me be, I'll be fine."
Realizing Hathori really meant for her to hug him, Karan slowly rose. She ignored her jitters and grabbed Hathori, trying to end the hug as quickly as possible. Instead of finding a man pressed to her chest, Karan felt a rush of air in her face as a loud pop sounded. The doctor's shirt hung limply in her hands, no longer inhabited by a human body.
"What?" muttered Karan, desperately seeking some trace of life. She saw something brown flicker on the crumpled pants at her feet, and it dawned on her the brown object was a seahorse, no more than eight centimeters long. Sinking onto her knees, Karan looked at the seahorse in wonder.
"Doctor, is that you?" Her voice was hushed—the seahorse's diminutive size and fragile body made her nervous to speak at normal volume, as if doing so might crush the little thing.
"I see…" whispered Karan, as the full implications of the curse began to besiege her quick mind. Now she comprehended the strong undercurrents of fear in the family, the secretiveness that had so irritated her, why they might be willing to obey an otherwise maniacal leader, and why Shehure would want out of the curse…
"Ow!" yelled Karan, as another pop emitted from the pile at her feet and a human head connected with her own head. Rubbing the point of contact on his head with one hand, Hathori hurriedly sought to cover himself with the other. He pulled his pants over his lap, and Karan handed the shirt back.
"Do you understand better now?" asked Hathori, still crouched on the floor. When Karan nodded, Hathori said, "I'm supposed to be the dragon, but for some unknown reason, Dzuni dragons have always transformed into seahorses."
"You're cute though," Karan said, giving him a flirting smile. Hathori fought the urge to flirt back, and took a deep breath.
"Anyway," continued Hathori, "Shehure thought he'd found the cure, which was to find a person so warmhearted and open that she could even accept the cat in its true form."
"Lhoru, naturally," said Karan, shifting into a more comfortable position on the floor.
"Yes. Asheno was already itching to get rid of Lhoru and throw her out of the family, but Shehure convinced Asheno that letting her see Lhadoman's true form would chase her away for good. You see, Asheno is very jealous about the admiration Lhoru causes among the Dzuni, admiration he believes should be reserved only for him, and he loathes her. A week ago Shehure called Khazuma, Lhadoman's adoptive father, over to his house. There, Khazuma took off Lhadoman's bracelet, and he transformed in front of Lhoru. Lhadoman was extremely upset and ran away, but Lhoru followed him and managed to bring him back. She accomplished something very difficult, Karan. She willingly chased a smelly, hideous monster and salvaged it from a deadly despair, one Lhadoman could never have emerged from. Such a loving, accepting outsider is more than most Dzuni can hope for, much less the cat.
"It was a foregone conclusion that Lhado and Lhoru would become a couple afterwards. But Asheno threw a fit to end all fits when Shehure told him the plan had failed. He screamed so loudly, everyone in the main house heard him. He threw anything within his reach, and called Shehure stupid and incompetent."
"I heard the yelling," said Karan. "Personally, I'm amazed someone as weak as Asheno can have such a piercing voice."
Hathori frowned. "There's too much you don't know about him yet. Before that day, Shehure was the only Dzuni Asheno had never abused. Asheno trusted him that much. I'm worried now, though, because I believe Asheno now suspects Shehure has ulterior motives, and is not entirely loyal to him. Asheno's not pressing Shehure about that yet, and let's hope he doesn't.
"Later that same day, Asheno demanded for Lhoru, Lhado, and Khazuma to meet with him. That was when Lhado got the bruises and cuts you treated. Despite Asheno's rage, Lhoru and Lhado defied him and said they'd remain together. The most shocking thing for Asheno was when Khazuma told him he'd never allow Asheno to shut Lhadoman away after high school graduation. You must understand, Karan, no one has ever openly defied Asheno before. This is a very serious matter. I don't know how Shehure will be able to reassure Asheno this time, that the Dzuni still love him and will stay near him." Hathori sighed.
"All the excitement overtaxed Asheno's system, and he's been sick ever since then. It's so hard for me, listening to his feverish rantings about the family betraying him, begging me to erase Lhoru's memory…" Hathori covered his eyes.
"Erase Lhoru's memory?" gasped Karan.
"Yes, I possess the power of erasing people's memories." His mouth constricted visibly. "It's more like a deep hypnosis, really. I…erase someone's memory when Asheno orders me to, usually when a Dzuni accidentally transforms in front of an outsider. And in some other situations."
"Are you going to erase Lhoru's memory?" Karan looked Hathori straight in his jade green eyes.
"I don't know," replied Hathori impotently.
"Do you want to?" pressed Karan softly, yet insistently, certain she could sense a definite reluctance on Hathori's part.
Lhado and Lhoru loved each other, that was obvious to anybody who watched them together, as Hathori had done. They were completely absorbed in each other, as he and Hana had once been. Flashbacks of Hana's sunken eyes and unceasing tears of guilt, her hands desperately clutching at his shirt, returned as surely as winter arrived in Hoth every year. His own grief when Hana left, every one of her memories of Hathori destroyed.
"No," said Hathori, his voice stronger. "I don't want them to suffer, as I once did." The sobs took him off guard, and he surrendered to his fatigue, hunger, and bad memories entirely, crying more freely than he'd done since Hana's departure.