Genbu no Miko: The Winter's Tale
Chapter 4 – The Frost in the Void
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize isn't mine. Sadly.
The snow fell in ugly clumps that settled unevenly upon the dirty ground as patches of the fresh brown dirt mixed with the presumably pristine white of the snow. Splotches of crimson that further stained the pure colour remained stark and accusing under the beam of the silver moonlight. Perhaps even nature had sensed the carnal savagery that had taken place as it offered its condolences with the soft song of mourning entwined in the strands of the wind, waiting to be unraveled by those who would listen.
And in that bleak picture, two dug trenches in the layers that laid thickly upon Hokkan as if some kind of a blanket that failed in its purpose for its inability to provide warmth. They did their best to salvage the brutality that marred what would have been a beautiful picture of ideality. Yet reality is just so – cruel. With the last of the bodies buried, nature took over the job of repairing the damage done to landscape.
The snow fell again. Softly in whirling flakes that floated and drifted in the air before they fell onto the scene of devastation with a soft sigh as if offered in mourning. They gathered and gradually formed a layer over the scene. The red specks, the brown earth and the stink of decay interwoven with the tangy scent of blood – all faded with the snow's brilliantly laid façade.
And so just like that, a village vanished in less than half a day. Who would have known the difference? None perhaps if not for the melancholic tombstone that stood over watch, guarding the village that once was.
With that done, the two left.
Amidst the deepening darkness, something or perhaps someone would be a more accurate term, moved – joining the shadows that lengthened across the land. A streak of silvery white that flashed so briefly in the dark as the figure moved seemed symbolic – as if marking that hope for the bleak future had arrived.
As if setting a closure to the ghastly scene, the heavy curtains of night fell fast, shielding the stage as the darkness that lay before them grew increasingly thicker and impenetrable. The wind that accompanied rose in volume as it blasted into their ears with a piercing shriek. There was an urgent need for them to seek shelter until the sun rose and visibility returned.
Having been born and bred in the icy mountains of Hokkan, Tomite moved with a confident sureness albeit in the darkness with a firm grip on Takiko who led the horse behind her. Whatever doubts she was to have or fear instilled by the darkness and also from the trauma of having seen so many dead, she didn't show. There was a certain sense of security that his calloused hand provided, the faint warmth it gave in the cold, comforting.
Assured by this, she followed. The journey was silent. Neither spoke a word. What was going through each other's minds, that had no idea – but each was obviously preoccupied until…
Snow flew up in an untidy splatter that settled into a messy heap while Takiko laid face-down on the frosty ground. The horse neighed and Tomite stopped.
Annoyed by his lack of concern as he stood unmoving there before her, Takiko huffily got up, her cheeks with a faint blush as she stomped passed him.
"Tonight, we sleep here." That was all he said, with a voice as crisp as the wind.
And that marked the end of their day's journey.
The fire that ate hungrily at the wood, from which it was borne, swayed happily in the slight breeze that accompanied the two others in the cave. Other than the contented crackling from the fire, the quiet breathing filled the cave. Deeper in the memories of its occupants, something stirred.
The tangy smell of that thick liquid that seemed carelessly splashed across the snowy landscape as if some kind of a masterpiece of a demented artist…
The lifeless bodies that accompanied the messy splattering of blood…
The shattered huts and the wispy smoke that rose from the burning pieces of wood…
The deathly silence that hung in the air…
It was all too familiar…
And the tears shed by the lonely child who survived… who would see them now?
Down the meandering lane the child took, in his hand a bucket full of fish that stank of a pungent horrid smell as they piled atop of one another lifelessly. Yet a smile on the child's face as he whistled a light-hearted tune, bobbing his head to the rhythm as his feet picked up the pace as well.
And further down the lane he walked on.
The smile he imagined on his parents' faces upon seeing his catch made him feel contented and blissful. Life in the village was quiet and smooth – but what more could he ask for? Just three meals a day and a happy family. They lived in a small wooden hut and the furniture within was rather old but sturdy still. His mother was a seamstress, while his father, a carpenter who often brought him hunting. Life was good.
It was his mother's birthday that day. She loved to eat fish. He had no idea why – the taste of those cold-blooded slippery creatures was simply too odd for his taste but since she liked it, he had gone to the river some distance away that had not frozen to fish.
And now as dusk had begun to fall, as the sun pulled back its rays, sinking down beyond the horizon; the child happily made his way home.
It would be right to say – he never expected the scene that would await his eyes.
He never expected the scent of blood to meet his nose. Not the sight of corpses strewn all over the place; not the broken pieces of wood that stuck awkwardly out of the snow as if some sick creation of a maniac. The cruel gashes on their bodies that suggested countless stabbings they had received; the familiar faces he had grown used to seeing since the day he was born, now contorted in an inexplicable expression of unimaginable pain…
And as the wooden bucket in his hand fell onto the ground with a dull thud as the slippery dead fishes slid out, the child ran hard and fast to the hut at the end of the village. The door was left ajar and in the doorway an unmoving hand laid. The body it was connected to was badly mutilated – yet from the clothes and the callous on the hands, the young child had no doubt of its identity – this was his father.
Further in still was yet another corpse – it laid in the kitchen as a messy heap upon the floor with its face down. The thin fingers of the hand were tense as they remained in that position of a seeming desperate plea for help. Knowing full well who it was, the child turned her over – he needed to see her face; he needed to be sure.
Her eyes… The dark blue ones he had inherited from her remained wide and opened as they stared blankly and he thought, accusingly at her murderer. With a hand, he had shut them and it was at that moment, that he had made a vow – to take revenge on the Kutou soldiers who had robbed him of his everything in a single day.
That very day, Chamka Tan died along with his family.
A searing heat that emanated from the symbol on his back spread through his body.
He buried them, while the snow added onto the layers, masking the devastating carnage that had just taken place, the meaning of the symbol that was on his back echoed in the void of heart.
The pristine white piece of land that now stood in place of the destroyed village reflected the emptiness.
The emptiness in his heart…
And that day marked the birth of Tomite the seishi.
He woke up feeling perspiration lining his face and neck as he breathed heavily trying to get himself under control from the nightmare that was a scene that had replayed itself in his mind all too often enough. Opening his eyes, he let out a startled yelp as Takiko peered curiously at him with much concern.
"What… what are you doing?"
"I… You were gasping just now… I…was worried for you…"
He looked away, not meeting her eyes.
"Nightmare?"
"If only it was," he said quietly. Propping himself upright, he faced the fire which cast an eerie amber glow on his face, leaving part of it in the shadows. The dark eyes glinted in the flickering flames as he fed more wood into the fire.
In a tone that mirrored his, Takiko said, "I see…"
Seemingly preoccupied, she too stared into the fire, as if hynoptised by the dancing flickering tongues of the flame. "If only it had all just been a nightmare…"
For a moment, neither said anything. The silence in the air wrapped around them like a blanket, giving them the comfort they needed.
In the neighbouring Kutou, the old witch who went by the name Chika, grabbed a handful snow and crushed it in her hands over the orb which reflected images of priestess and her seishi. The fine white dust fell over the crystal as an eerie light that emanated from the dust grew and enveloped the tiny globe.
Within the orb, the image shifted. Behind the two, a pile of snow started to grow; taking form as it seemingly pulsated with life.
Perhaps they should have noticed seeing that it was taking place behind them…but they didn't. Too deep into the memories that haunted them, they failed to realize the danger they were in.
A whizzing sound accompanied the streak that entered the cave with blinding speed awoke Tomite from his trance as he grabbed Takiko and dove to the side. Yet another long snake of ice followed heading right towards them!
"Wha…? What's going on!"
A/N: Oops… Long update… Sorry… I feel so slack now that the exams have ended… Been obsessed with games lately… Took me quite awhile on this chapter while being plagued with all the distractions of books, games and anime… hehe… Hope you like this chapter though! Please review! Thanks!