Chapter 2 Youth is Such a Wonderful Thing


Japanese language notes:

Wazatori- a kabane that has lived long enough to gain proficiency in a specific art or has had enough experience from its time as a human to retain some of its muscle memory in Kabane form

Koutetsujyo- iron fortress


From a rocky outcropping in the hills surrounding Tsurugashima Station, Daito carefully studied the attack. He had deliberately sabotaged some of the track leading into the city, provoking its defenders to come out. Know your enemy and what they are capable of, he thought, gritting his teeth.

The other godwalkers teased him about how cautious he was. "The humans are just sacks of meat," Ren had said while punching him painfully in the arm. "I don't know why you waste so much time studying them before you wipe them out."

Still, such was Daito's skill as a strategist that Minokichi let him have free reign on assignments as long as he took the territory he was ordered to. And what Minokichi decreed, the others went along with. Generally speaking, at least, Daito thought to himself. He still got heckled from time to time, but Minokichi's unspoken favor protected him from much worse.

Tsurugashima was supposed to be an easy assignment. Overwhelm their defenses. Kill the minimum amount necessary to subdue the rest. Bring back the remaining population for integration into the herd. Make note of any special cases or skills for medical study and experimentation. Easy.

There's nothing external to indicate this city would be any different, Daito thought as his eyes scanned the tall station walls. A light wind ruffled his spiky raven hair. The humans followed a predictable defense pattern as they moved forward to repair the track. He had thrown a few wandering kabane at them at first and the humans had rebuffed them easily. Nothing outside the usual. For these humans to have survived this long they would at least need some basic combat skills.

Daito hadn't been impressed. Summoning his godwalker energy, he then drove the kabane to attack in a more coordinated effort, massing on single points of the defense until they were overwhelmed. The battle progressed as he had anticipated. The humans were falling back, unable to hold the line. And then something unexpected happened.

Two figures swirled onto the battlefield and began decimating his forces. A male and a female with the speed and strength to rival a godwalker, they worked in unison, defending and attacking in a fluid series of motions too fast for the human eye to follow.

But Daito wasn't human. His eyes tracked the pair as they destroyed one clump of kabane and moved onto the next in perfect synchrony. That level of coordination takes years of training, he silently acknowledged. And yet, they seemed to be defending the humans around them. How odd.

Determined to test their cohesion further, Daito sent in a team of five C-level wazatori. They weren't his best, but certainly passable warriors. Using them against humans was normally overkill, but for those two he wasn't sure. Within minutes, all five of his wazatori were decapitated or blown to pieces and the pair didn't even seem to be breaking a sweat.

Interesting, Daito mused. The speed and skill that these unknown warriors exhibited was unlike anything he had encountered outside of the Cove. Minokichi will be curious about them. But just to be sure, Daito threw one more attack wave at the green-haired young man and the woman in the flowing red jacket. This time, he included a squad of fifteen of his elite wazatori strike force, normally reserved for breaching the toughest city defenses. Often times, their attacks were single-handedly responsible for the defeat of a city. Their speed and ruthlessness could even overpower some of the weaker C-class godwalkers. Daito sent all of them straight for the unknown fighters.

Again, the pair wiped them out mercilessly. Not even one wazatori was able to stagger back to his lines when Daito signaled a retreat. Clearly, Tsurugashima needs more study before I can proceed.

Whistling for one of the carrier pigeons, Daito pulled out a small strip of parchment. In small neat calligraphy, he wrote the following message: Enemy threat at Tsurugashima higher than anticipated. Possible godwalkers present." Blowing on the ink to dry it, Daito tested an edge with his finger. When satisfied, he rolled the parchment up and snapped it into a tiny tube that fastened around the pigeon's leg. It should be able to reach the Cove by nightfall.

As the pigeon streaked away across the sky, Daito laid down on the hilltop, arms under his head. All he could do at the moment was wait to hear what Minokichi's response would be. The godwalker let out a sigh as he watched the clouds move lazily overhead. Having a moment of respite was a rare thing in his world, and Daito was determined to enjoy it while he could.


WUMP! Ikoma landed flat on his back, again. Mumei had been teaching him some jujitsu drills she had learned from her brother. So far, all that had really sunk in was that Mumei could toss him on his rear from a hundred and one different directions.

"Don't tell me you're getting tired already," she teased, bending down over his prone form. Her dark hair, like a silky curtain, tickled his cheek.

"Of you, never. Of jujitsu… maybe," he admitted.

She laughed and extended a hand to help him up. Ikoma took it, and hissed as the strain tugged on his sore muscles.

"What's wrong?" Her voice was laced with concern.

The green-haired kabaneri rolled his right shoulder, slowly. "It's nothing, just a little sore."

"Come here," Mumei commanded. She abruptly sat down in the grass with her legs crossed and patted the space in front of her. Her tone brooked no argument and Ikoma was wise enough to know by now not to try. Sighing, he sat down in front of her, knees touching hers lightly.

His companion frowned at him and twirled her finger. "Turn around, Ikoma."

"Where's the fun in that?" He grumbled, facing away. His complaints were quickly silenced as Mumei began roving her fingers along the planes of his back, rubbing soothing circles along his sore muscles. He couldn't contain a groan of pleasure as her hands caressed his skin, melting away stiffness as they went. "That feels so good. Thank you Mumei."

He grabbed one of her hands and began kissing her finger tips.

"Not yet." She pulled her hand away and flicked his forehead lightly. "I'm not finished." Again, her hands resumed their rhythmic work of pulling the knots from his shoulders. "Brother always demanded at least thirty minutes. He said anything less was unsatisfactory."

Ikoma's brows drew together. "Wait, you gave Biba massages?" He tried to keep the edge out of his tone.

"We gave each other massages," she corrected, while rubbing at a particularly large knot. He tried to turn around to stare at her incredulously, but she clucked her tongue and shoved his shoulder to keep him facing forwards. "It wasn't a big deal. It was something we did for each other, a comrades in arms sort of thing."

Clenching his fists against his thighs, Ikoma tried hard to banish the image of Biba caressing Mumei's slim shoulders. Suddenly he wished he could kill the man all over again. How dare he touch Mumei! Comrades in arms? What a load of- His eyes widened as another thought suddenly occurred to him.

He cleared his throat. "Ah, Mumei, you haven't…" he coughed once into his hand, "given anyone else on the Koutetsujyo a massage, have you?" He was impressed by how casual he was able to keep his voice while his fingernails bit into the palms of his hands.

His companion paused her ministrations to tilt her head curiously. "Of course I have. I thought it would fall within the acceptable bounds of human friendship. At least, no one ever refused when I offered it."

Ikoma wanted to drag a hand across his face, instead he settled for a long-suffering sigh. "Who?" he said softly.

"Oh let's see, Ayame-sama, Kajika, Yukina, Kurusu…" She felt his shoulders tense at the mention of that last name and she smiled deviously. "I was going to ask Sukari if he needed one later today. He looked so tired in the control room-"

She was cut off as Ikoma suddenly spun around, trapping her hands in his. "Don't," he whispered quietly. His head was looking down so that his hair hid his eyes. At his miserable expression, she took pity on him.

"Ok, ok, so maybe I was kidding about that last one," she conceded. As he peeked up hopefully at her from underneath his bangs, her heart melted. "And you can't seriously believe Kurusu would ever relax enough to let me give him a massage. I can't believe you fell for that one." She would have punched him in the arm, but he was still cradling her hands in his. But at least he was grinning now.

Ikoma leaned in closer. "Sometimes you are so…"

"Charming?" she suggested at the same time that Ikoma finished, "-irritating."

Mumei opened her mouth to give a rebuttal of how easily he was fooled and how silly he was to be jealous. But she never got the chance because at that exact moment, Ikoma tilted his head and captured her lips in a deliciously sweet kiss.

He pulled back, holding her face gently in his hands. "Promise me you won't give any of the other guys massages," he urged. Mumei reached to steal another kiss, but he shook his head. "Promise me."

"Fine, fine," she sighed dramatically. "From now on these hands are for Ikoma only."

He growled his pleasure against her throat and she ran her hands through his hair, lost in the sensations that were thrumming through her body. Later on, after ravishing her body with kisses, Ikoma stared down at her beautifully flushed face, leaning over her on his elbow. "How would you like it," he teased, "if I started giving Ayame-sama and Kajika spontaneous massages?"

Mumei's eyes flashed dangerously. "I wouldn't like it at all," she spoke softly, but her voice was threaded with iron.

She was eyeing him like a cat creeping up on an unsuspecting woodland creature. Suddenly, Ikoma regretted his attempt at leveling the playing field. "Not that I ever, even considered," he stammered. She still had that predatory look in her eyes.

"Of course not," she purred, coiling against him seductively.

Why do I get the feeling that she's toying with me again? He wondered briefly. Probably because she is, he concluded, after taking in her mischievous expression. Mumei pulled him close and nuzzled at his throat, dragging her teeth lightly over his skin to nip at his ear.

Ikoma sighed against her as blood rushed to his head and…other places. She seemed to instinctively know how to drive him wild. It was so easy to lose himself in the feeling of her soft skin, the smell of her hair, the gentle brush of her eyelashes against his cheek.

She brought his hands up to the zipper on the front of her jumpsuit and pulled it lower, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of her breasts. He looked at her through lidded eyes, burning darkly with lust and reached for her almost involuntarily, slipping his hand beneath the soft fabric of her top to caress the flesh underneath.

Normally, Ikoma was very strict about propriety. He stubbornly refused to move past kissing, citing their age differences and the fact he didn't want to steal her innocence. Whatever that meant, Mumei muttered to herself. She had a devil of a time trying to get him to do anything, even though she knew he wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to, she smirked internally. It was clear from the way he kissed her that Ikoma wanted her in all sorts of ways. And the way that his kisses made her feel, Mumei knew that she wanted him in all sorts of ways too. Now if he just wouldn't be so damn stubborn about it, she thought. Hence today's shirt with a zipper streaming all the way down the front.

And now, finally, finally, he was touching her, thumbs rolling over her nipples till they became hard underneath his fingertips. Mumei gasped as he reached down, pushing the fabric of her shirt aside to take her left breast gently in his mouth. He sucked on her nipple, swirling around it with his tongue and she thought she might just die of pleasure. When he scraped his teeth lightly over her sensitive skin, Mumei knew she was about to lose her mind. She clutched at him desperately, hips bucking in an instinctual motion she did unconsciously. But it felt so good, she wanted to do it over and over again. He groaned against her skin and pressed into her.

And she felt, oh God! She felt it. And then she was fumbling with the ties of his pants, dying to see if it really was like all the girls said it would be, dying to feel him and please him, and know that pleasure for herself.

But her scrabbling fingers on his drawstrings broke the spell Ikoma had fallen under. In an instant, he recoiled off her, hand covering his blushing face. "Mumei, gods! I'm sorry! I don't- I don't know what I was thinking." She glared at him, hair splayed in the grass, as she tried to catch her breath. Her chest heaved through her half open shirt, and he looked away, embarrassed. "I'm so sorry," he whispered miserably.

"What for?" Mumei demanded. She rose onto her elbows and deliberately left her shirt open. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye briefly, before looking away again.

"For taking advantage of you." His voice was hoarse. His hands, balled into fists, pressed into his thighs to the point that it would bruise.

"You weren't taking advantage of me," she scoffed. "I wanted it."

"You're too young to know what you want!" He snapped back, and instantly regretted it.

Mumei looked down at her lap. "Too young?" Her voice was quiet.

"Mumei, I didn't mean-"

"So, I'm too young for sex, and yet somehow I'm old enough to risk my life every day defending people older than me?" Her head snapped up, and Ikoma's heart clenched painfully at the tears in her eyes. "Too young to have a relationship with the man I love, but old enough to be used by a creep like Biba? Poor, stupid Mumei. You're too young to know what you want, best let the adults take it from here. Cuz you're all doing such a great job of it." She stood and brushed herself off imperiously. Mumei planned to turn and storm back to the Koutetsujyo, leaving a speechless Ikoma in her wake.

But at just that moment, the alarm bells started tolling. It was a kabane attack. She looked at Ikoma and her anger melted away, only to be replaced by a deep, searing sadness. "Not too young to die, though." She zipped up her shirt and turned towards the station gates.