Cucumber Lady and Ferocia: thanks for the reviews! I hope you enjoy the rest.
As always, feel free to review. So...we've found out how the curse was broken, but there's still the unresolved manner of the new Dzuni vs. Asheno. Who will explode first?
Disclaimer: FB isn't mine, and nor is anything else that you recognize. I borrowed the Shuro episode from Yuu Watase's Ceres (which I also don't own!).
Chapter 42
Shoma Shala wandered about the hallways of her father Shehure's house. Her mother hadn't returned from errands yet, and Shala wanted to make sure she was all right. Today was the seventeenth anniversary of her brother's disappearance.
As the youngest of the five daughters Shehure had with Mahalina, Shala had been only six years old when Asheno summoned Hararu to the main estate. She remembered what he looked like only because he had resembled Shehure exactly. Otherwise, all Shala could recall was that she adored him because he played with his baby sister often. Unlike her eldest sister Anha, she hadn't paired up with Hararu to pull pranks on their parents, or walked to school together with him. Her knowledge of his personality stemmed from her vague memories of adoration and her older sisters' reminiscences.
Due to Shala's young age at the time, she picked up only the tension from her parents when Hararu didn't return from the main house for a long time. Then her mother had started crying a lot, and Shehure rarely slept well, and spent much of his time yelling into a phone. Anha, Zhumara, and Neza, her three eldest sisters, were also irritable and anxious. Shala and Mathara, the second youngest girl, began to cling to each other, and found comfort in long hours of make-believe.
No one told Shala the full truth until she was in her last year of high school. Shehure finally decided all of the girls should know about the old family curse and its fallout. The girls were old enough, and he believed he owed them an explanation for his thorny relationship with the family's head, Asheno. At that point, they did not have a viable relationship: Asheno had effectually banished Shehure and the other Dzuni from his presence, and Shehure despised him because he was convinced Asheno had taken Hararu and the others to bring back the curse.
The most shocking part to Shala had not been the curse itself; rather, it was that so many children had been summoned by Asheno to the main estate and disappeared. Many of them were cousins of Shala's, but she didn't know most of them well, except for her uncle Hatsuharu's children, and Hotohori and Ahama. Each Dzuni's eldest child had gone missing at the main estate, and in same cases, some Dzuni lost all of their kids. For example, Hatsuharu and Rin had lost both their son and daughter. Shala forced herself not to rehash Rin's depression and the hard times. Most of the affected parents had undergone long periods of depression, actually. They were still together, all the Dzuni, their spouses, and children. It was odd, thought Shala, that the curse should still pull the family together so tightly after being broken for so long. The family had never dispersed, as some of its members had loftily predicted.
Somehow, after he'd summoned the "the thirteen" (as the doomed group of teenagers was known), Asheno had managed to effectively silence the servants, a miracle within a family known for chatty servants. A servant occasionally went missing here and there, but no rumor could ever be verified. Thus wild speculation reigned. The thirteen had become Asheno's personal servants, and he never let them out, just as he once treated Hatharu. Or perhaps they'd been sent to a remote location deep in the mountains, maybe even to Lhose. Or Asheno sent them to Gogotha and Zi Alda. However, he'd definitely bribed the police to keep from investigating. Shala knew that for sure—the Shomas were more than rich enough to do so, and had probably been bribing the police at least since the curse's nativity.
Shala's stomach growled. She'd overslept that morning, and skipped breakfast in order to attend orientation for new faculty members at Karori High School. Classes would start in five weeks. As Shala poured canned vegetable soup into a beat-up pot, she dared to mull over the dreaded thought everyone held strictly off-limits: that Asheno had killed all thirteen. It seemed the most logical conclusion. Otherwise, it was too strange that for the last seventeen years, no sign of the thirteen had emerged, even when rumors were investigated and people questioned. Privately, Shala was convinced her father also believed they were dead, but like everybody else, he didn't have the heart to admit it to anyone. That was obvious to Shala the night he gave them the long explanation about the curse, and told them he was sure Asheno had tried to bring back the curse.
Shehure relayed to his family the story Hathori brought back of having seen babies that appeared suspiciously like Dzuni babies over fifteen years ago. Since then, Asheno had expressly forbade Hathori to return to the main house without his permission. Apparently the curse was back, but in a subdued form, if Hathori remembered correctly. Those babies didn't change when hugged by the opposite sex…
The other surprise from that night was the revelation that Hotohori and Ahama were Hararu's half-siblings through the same mother. Upon hearing the news, Zhumara had immediately declared the plan perverted and departed angrily. Zhumara had always tended towards more conservative ideals. Only persistent diplomacy on Anha's part managed to reconcile Zhumara with Shehure and Mahalina again. For her part, Shala found herself gravitating towards Hathori, Ahame, and their wives. They were now like close family to her, and they'd shared the same losses as her family. Shala now knew Karan and Mhine quite well, and had worked part-time for both, assisting them in their tasks.
Finally, the soup was boiling steadily, and Shala turned off the burner. Thinking about such unpleasant matters exacerbated the hollow feeling in her stomach. Shala settled into a chair at the kitchen table, and began eagerly scooping hot soup out of her bowl.
The front door opened. "Mama?" Shala called, liquid sloshing in her mouth. "Is that you?"
"Hi, Shala," said Mahalina, carrying two large grocery bags into the kitchen. The passage of time had been relatively kind to her. Her mousy hair was only just beginning to exhibit small grey streaks, and she still maintained her characteristically wiry body. Occasional bouts of extended crying had deepened the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth. Mahalina took off her coat, and tossed it willy-nilly over the back of an empty chair. Her neatness habits were quite compatible with those of her husband. Mahalina's old friend, Eghu Dzasa, once remarked that their equal amounts of messiness was one sign she knew Mahalina and Shehure were perfect for each other.
"I wasn't expecting you. Didn't you have orientation at Karori today?" Mahalina riffled through the pantry, and brought out a large container of dried fruits. "Here, have some of these, just soup isn't enough. You starve yourself enough as it is."
"The orientation was only for the morning, Mama," explained Shala. "The heavy-duty stuff doesn't come until later."
"My gods, you slurp your soup as noisily as your father! Sometimes I swear you were born half-dog," sighed Mahalina. "Try to control it when you're eating out in public."
Shala smiled mischievously, and Mahalina thought, as she had so many times before, how similar the facial expressions of her youngest daughter was to those of her father's. Of all the children, Shala seemed to have inherited the most of Shehure's personality. There were differences, of course—Shala did not seem as inclined to selfish manipulation as Shehure, for which Mahalina was deeply thankful. But it could be so hard to tell what the child was really thinking. Though Shala looked exactly like Mahalina (prompting much teasing from Shehure), she did not blurt her emotions freely as her mother did at the same age.
"Anyway, Mama, the orientation went very well. It was so hot, though! There was no air-conditioning whatsoever," groaned Shala, scraping the bowl for the last drops of the soup.
"That's the way it was at my orientation, too." Mahalina grinned, remembering. "Outside was much cooler than inside, and we all sweated through our clothing."
"Since I was already in the neighborhood, I figured I'd drop by," Shala said nonchalantly. She set down the bowl, and faced her mother. From the knowing look Mahalina gave her, it was clear her mother knew the real reason for Shala's visit.
"I'm fine, dear, you don't need to worry so much about me. I have five children to nag, still." Tapping the table's surface with her fingers, Mahalina told herself to be prepared for four other calls from the rest of the girls today. No doubt Anha had ordered the younger girls to check up on their parents today.
"Actually, I'm glad you stopped by today," Mahalina said, taking the bowl and carrying it to the sink. As the water flowed and rinsed the bowl out, Mahalina continued, "I have a favor to ask of you." She decided to let the bowl sit in the sink a few minutes longer, and returned to her chair at the table.
"As you've probably figured out already, Shala," continued Mahalina, "all of the formerly cursed Shomas have been on a sharp lookout the last several years for any sign of young Dzunis."
"Since Hathori saw those babies, yes," Shala nodded. Sometimes Shala thought that was the only thing that had kept some of the ex-Dzunis from completely succumbing to grief and despair. She wondered how many of them thought the new Dzuni were the children of the missing thirteen. Shala had long ago theorized that this was so, although she was much more unwilling to consider how Asheno brought it about.
"Right, Shala." Mahalina sighed. She and Shehure talked about this topic many times recently, and she still felt a pang of conscience at the possibility of getting their daughter entangled with Asheno. "Last year, Karan noticed a boy who resembled your uncle Haru on Sonu Street. But the boy vanished before Karan could speak to him. Later, Mhine happened to see the same boy going into Mhagenu Junior High."
"That's the school right near the main estate, isn't it?" Shala asked. "But why would Asheno send them out into the open if he doesn't want anyone to know about them?"
"Your father thinks only a few Dzuni might actually be in Lhasa now. It would be easier for Asheno to control the movements of a few Dzuni, rather than all thirteen, at one school. Besides, Shala, bringing in tutors for home-schooling would also carry its own risk. Asheno would have to keep them quiet."
"True…" Shala frowned. Personally, if she'd been the one trying to hide a group of children from the outside world, there would have been no necessity to educate them at all. Why not just isolate them?
"Remember, Asheno is insane," said Mahalina, observing the doubtful expression on Shala's face. "I never liked him the few times I saw him, because there was always something wrong with his behavior. Honestly, I still can't explain why after all these years. Maybe it was drunkenness from the drinking parties I went to with Hana, Hathori, Ahame and your father, but it was a gut feeling I just had, and still have."
"Drinking parties? You haven't told us about that!" A bemused smile graced Shala's face.
Mahalina chuckled, and tossed a piece of dried fruit into her mouth. Still chewing, she said, "That's a story for later." She became serious again, and patted Shala's hand. "Dear, I know you don't understand what I mean about Asheno's insanity. It's hard to comprehend if you've never seen or spoken with him, which you haven't, thank goodness—but please take my word for it. In any case, your father thinks it's lucky you'll be teaching at Karori at just the time these Dzuni should start entering high school."
"Why in Ghobrin would Asheno send these kids to the same high school as the last Dzuni? That's too loony, even if he's as crazy as everyone says he is!"
"No, no, Shehure and I agree with you completely." Mahalina scooped a handful of dried fruit from the crumpled bag. "We also think it's unlikely they'd be sent to Karori. But kids from different high schools always talk to each other, and if there really is a new group of Dzuni going to one of the high schools, you'll quickly hear about them. Your father and I would like you to keep your ears sharp for any rumors about unusual-looking students. There'll be plenty of other normal Shomas attending high school, but you'll learn to differentiate them from the Dzuni, if they do exist."
"So I'm supposed to spy and report back to you?"
"Well, yes, something like that." Mahalina winced, but the conspiratorial smile on Shala's face slightly eased her fears of being seen as a manipulative parent.
"I shall do my best to fulfill my sacred duty," Shala declared, mocking the stereotypical heroes in the horrible fantasy books she loved to read in primary school. Shehure would always gripe when it came time to purchase such books for Shala's birthday, and Mahalina would remind of his countless risqué romance novels.
"Of course, what should I do if the Dzuni end up at Karori?"
"Um…" Damn, thought Mahalina, Shehure and I didn't think that through. "Well, just don't get involved with them and talk to us first. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
Hatsuharu
For three weeks, the Dzarans had refused to give custody of Shuro back to Asheno. The impasse between the two sides became steadily more antagonistic as the two weeks passed. The strain was evident from Asheno's increasingly short temper and sour moods, and the rising anxiety the three of us felt being around Asheno. I found myself glancing at Haku whenever we were in Asheno's presence, to cut off any chance of his picking a fight with Asheno.
As the temperatures finally rose outside, we began to venture outside more often, to my relief. The mushy ground from the quickly melting snow pulled at our boots and splashed with each step, but we were too happy to escape from Asheno and see colors other than white covering the landscape. I was amazed to see hardy yellowish-green plants and bushes begin to appear a week after the great melting, much less any vegetation in this hellhole. The murin farms bustled with activity as the creatures woke from their hibernation and left their nests, shedding their winter coats. We regularly saw the weavers and dyers leave the factory stores with large bags full of murin fur. Children ran gaily in the squelching mud, and suddenly the streets of Lhose filled with people. Lhoseans never wasted the all-too-brief summer season, and I would've been the same.
The night after we first arrived, Tori introduced Shuro to me and Haku, after his performance at our hotel.
"No wonder you didn't want me to flirt with you, Hotohori," Shuro exclaimed, "when you've got these fine specimens looking after you! I had no idea you were such a player!"
As usual, Tori took the comment too seriously. "They are not my boyfriends, Shuro," she hissed.
"Take it easy, Tori," I said, still marveling at Shuro's inexplicable tan and vaguely disturbed that I'd thought Shuro had a beautiful face for a boy. I'd never had any remotely homosexual thoughts before, and I tried to ignore the heat in my cheeks.
"Yes, you need to lighten up," agreed Shuro. "It's time for some drinks!"
"Oh, no," moaned Tori. Shuro smiled wolfishly, and turned to me.
"Have you tried any Lhose drinks yet?" Shuro asked me, his eyes innocently wide.
"Well," I started, noticing the barely detectable reddish tinge on Shuro's face, and leaving it to a trick of the stage lights. "No, I haven't. What are they like?"
"They pack a punch, Hatsuharu," Tori said resignedly.
"Let's try some, then." Haku's voice jolted me. He'd been silent the entire time, and his presence forgotten. An amused smirk crawled onto his face when I looked at him.
"We'll try a variety, not just the grape," decided Shuro after considering the drink possibilities. Tori's lips tightened. All three of us were ill with hangovers the next morning. At least we were oblivious when Asheno visited to call Haku and me idiots.
Today, I sat with Haku, Tori, and Shuro in Shuro's room at his parents' house. We were totally silent, in contrast to the frequent bursts of yelling from the family room, where Asheno was meeting with the Dzarans. I had tried to convince Asheno not to take us along with him, but he'd been adamant. From what I could hear of the argument, Asheno couldn't understand why the Dzarans wouldn't let Shuro go, and the Dzarans didn't want to tell him the real reason why. Truthfully, I couldn't figure out why either.
"Can you give me one concrete reason Shuro shouldn't leave Lhose? One…reason...that…makes…sense?" growled Asheno. The situation was rapidly deteriorating. "Don't tell me Shuro would be depressed to leave Lhose! Anybody would be happy to LEAVE Lhose!"
"That's true, I would be happy to leave Lhose," murmured Shuro lifelessly. It was the first time he'd spoken since the argument began an hour ago. Well, it had started out as a reasonably calm discussion of conflict of interest, but as I say, the situation deteriorated. Shuro lay on his bed, staring up at the off-white ceiling. The room was messy, with CDs and sheets of notebook paper with scratched-out lyrics scattered everywhere. Shuro evidently didn't believe in making up his bed, or keeping his clothes organized. I'd had to remove a carelessly tossed shirt before I could sit on a beanbag. Posters of well-known Hothan musicians covered the walls, and I recognized all of them.
"Asheno hasn't started throwing anything yet," observed Haku. "That's surprising."
"Asheno's not too pleasant, eh?" asked Shuro, sitting up at last. Tori looked worriedly at me, and I found myself at a loss for what to say.
"Tell us why we should give him up to the likes of you!" screeched Mrs. Dzaran, a stumpy little woman I immediately disliked when I stepped in the door. The husband was a colorless man, long cowed into silence by his wife, I guessed. "You come in here demanding us to give up our only child, and you have the audacity to yell at us!" Blatant rudeness to a Lhose native is a major social sin.
"You are breaking our agreement!" snapped Asheno. Our guardian is a master of gaining the advantage in a screaming match, and today he was in fine form. "At this rate, I may be forced to sue you. And I know how loath the likes of you are to become involved with a Shoma. I'm the only reason you have more money than the average Lhosean." I could imagine the superior leer appearing on his face now, and I glanced at Shuro, concerned about his reaction to finding out he was raised only for money. Shidora, our tiger, had not reacted well to the news.
A pregnant pause followed. "No, Shuro will stay here, with the only family he's known." Mrs. Dzaran was a brave person to talk back to Asheno like that, I will admit. "His father and I decided long ago. He will stay here and earn money for the family, through his music. I will not let a man like you take possession of him!"
"No!" yelled Shuro. "No!" He leapt off his bed and ran wildly out the door, his eyes bulging. We followed him out the door, drawn by the urge to watch the ensuing drama.
"Shuro! Get back to your room this instant!" Mrs. Dzaran's face had turned purple with rage.
"No, Mother! Why can't I decide my own future? You know Lhasa has better exposure for musicians!" Shuro begged desperately. For the first time I noticed his voice had risen in pitch. "I hate this place! It's too cold, and I always have to wear warmer clothes than everybody else! I don't look like anyone else, and people always stare at me! I want to leave!"
Asheno had withdrawn, letting Shuro engage his mother in battle alone. I stood behind Haku in the doorway, resisting the urge to rush in and separate Shuro and Mrs. Dzaran, gripping her crying son by the shoulders.
"Shuro, Shuro," she cooed while simultaneously glaring at him, as though trying to remind him of something without being forced to speak it aloud. "You know perfectly well we've always loved you, and taken good care of you. People in Lhose love your music, and you are more successful than you probably would ever be in Lhasa. It's so competitive there. We only have your interests at heart, darling." She squeezed his shoulders.
"My interests? My interests? It's in my best interest to freeze and live in a icy, hick town forever?" roared Shuro, no longer crying. The floor and door frame vibrated slightly, causing me to stand straight up. Tori gasped, and Haku flinched from the strong harithe-like sensations. Such powerful windstorms made buildings shake as the house was now doing from Shuro's voice.
"Shuro, no!" whispered Mrs. Dzaran, sensing the vibrations. "Lower your voice! You'll destroy the house!"
"You've only been concerned about yourselves and the town! Never about me!" Shuro continued bellowing at the same volume. A crystal vase on the coffee table shattered, spraying glass over the scarlet patterned rug and forcing Asheno to cautiously step away from the broken glass. "You wanted the money this man gave you! Oh, yes, I know about the frickin' contract! You left it lying around and I read it a year ago!" Cracks began snaking through the wall containing our door frame, and I quickly pushed Haku and Tori into the room and away from the wall.
"Shuro, please!" I yelled, "it's going to collapse!" He actually heard me and fell silent, breathing hard and eyes still fixed on his mother. Mrs. Dzaran now had her hands over her mouth, fearing for the house and, quite possibly, her life. Apparently she decided to throw caution to the wind, and tried to use Shuro's silence to her advantage.
"Shuro, please think about what would happen if you went to Lhasa and your voice were to get out of control…"
"That's bullshit and you know it!" yelled Shuro, though at a manageable volume. "I only lose control of my voice when I lose control of myself! It doesn't have a mind of its own!"
"But it's not normal!" shrieked Mrs. Dzaran. Asheno listened closely, as did the rest of us.
"There! Right there! Even you think I'm a freak! And thanks to your small-town schizo superstitions, you think I'm the god returned from the dead to destroy Lhose!"
"What does he mean?" a confused Haku asked Tori.
"It's an old story around here," whispered Tori back. "After five hundred years, the evil gods of Thika would be reborn and destroy Lhose. Shuro told me."
"But Shuro, when you were a baby, glass would shatter when you cried, and you only got more powerful as you grew! The neighbors started to notice and whisper about you—" pleaded Mrs. Dzaran.
"It's just a myth, dammit!" Shuro stamped his foot.
"Shuro! I had to—"
"How does a myth, a goddamn MYTH, justify dressing me up as a boy and messing me up for life?" Ripping and popping occurred as Shuro grabbed his shirt and violently pulled it apart, revealing what was clearly a woman's chest, albeit an underdeveloped one. Shuro stood still, his…her chest heaving with each breath, bared for unrestricted viewing. A stunned silence ensued, with Mrs. Dzaran collapsing into a chair and staring at Shuro's chest like everyone else.
"Boobs?" I said faintly, almost reflexively, finally ending the silence. Shuro and I blushed simultaneously, and Shuro hurriedly closed the shirt over her chest again. Haku sniggered, and instantly forgetting my embarrassment, I elbowed him. Shuro began sobbing softly, pushed her way through us, and ran back to her room.
"Mrs. Dzaran," spoke Asheno evenly and coolly, "I expect that Shuro will be packed and ready to leave for Lhasa in two days' time. I shall send my servants over, if you need the extra help." He smiled condescendingly at the white-faced woman. "Thank you for your cooperation. The terms of our contract have been fulfilled."