Chapter 18: "A Mean, Green Motherfucker from Outer Space"

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No sooner had Rei taught the hopelessly stiff Yusuke a basic box step than did Genkai arrive and cart her away. Rei protested, but Genkai wouldn't hear of it, leaving Rei to shout at Yusuke as Genkai hauled her off into the heart of the temple.

"Pick whatever music you like the most and just keep groovin'!" she shouted over her shoulder. "Let loose! Don't be so in your own head!" To Genkai she snapped, "What the fuck kind of weights do you bench, Grandma? You're like Hercules!"

"Flattery will get you nowhere." Genkai's hands in the small of Rei's back felt like iron, heavy and strong. "Move it."

"Move without thinking about it!" Rei yodeled at Yusuke, ignoring her. "Get lost in the music! Trust your instincts! Don't try so damn hard!"

She didn't get to see how well Yusuke heeded her advice — or was it really her advice at all? She was practically quoting what Kurama had told her about reading fortunes, after all…

Rei didn't let herself dwell on why she'd quoted Kurama, of all people. She listened intently as Genkai led her (or forced her, more accurately) down the hallway, hearing music kick in just as they turned a corner. Yusuke had picked a heavy metal song that sent urgent vibrations of double bass throbbing through the wall.

Wow, Rei thought. Now that's a choice…

Genkai escorted Rei away from the large entertaining hall at a quick clip, leading her all the way back to the main courtyard at the top of the stairs leading down to the highway. She didn't speak a single word along the way — not that that was out of character for Genkai or whatever. Genkai was a weird old biddy, that was for sure. Rei adored the woman, but the type for a pleasant or casual chat she was not.

"So, uh…" Rei stared at the back of Genkai's head like her weird pink hair might contain the lines of a script she couldn't read. "You really do need to talk to me, huh?"

Genkai, without turning around, grunted, "That's what I said, wasn't it?"

"Sheesh, all right…"

"As I said before, I've been reviewing your aunt's things while you were off making a fool of Yusuke, and—"

"And you found another Ouija board or something?" Rei surmised.

"No. Not that box of things. The other box." One sharp eye turned over Genkai's shoulder. "The one your friend Takeshi brought for you."

Rei stopped walking. Genkai took a few more steps before realizing Rei had fallen behind, at last turning toward Rei with one brow arched high, clearly not getting why Rei had taken to staring at Genkai with her mouth agape. It's just — Rei hadn't had a chance to look through that box yet. The psychic trinkets and fortune telling paraphernalia were one thing, but that second box of paperwork, journals… that was different. That was personal. That was —

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong, you fool," Genkai spat, "or are you just going to stand there like a moron?"

Rei's mouth shut with a clatter of teeth. Genkai huffed and walked away. On numb feet Rei followed after into the temple, to a familiar room with a brazier and a low table on the tatami mats. This was the room where Genkai had helped Rei commune with Himiko for the first time. Rei realized this when she felt the stuffy, perfumed air on her face, brow immediately breaking into a sweat. But while Rei recognized the room, she wasn't sure why Genkai had taken her to it, nor why Botan was sitting upon a cushion beside the table when they arrived. Botan lurched to her feet when Genkai pulled open the room's sliding paper door, long blue hair swinging beside her elbow.

"Hello, Yamato," she said, pretty face pinched and oddly sallow despite her smile. "How was your trip?"

"A lot of fun. Yusuke will have to tell you about it over dinner." Rei eyed her over. "But why are you…?"

. "Oh. Well." Botan chuckled (a thin sound) under her breath. "While you were gone, Genkai asked for… well, for a favor, you see, and I — "

"Botan," said Genkai.

Botan fell quiet. In the ensuing silence, Genkai bade Rei sit beside the table. As she sank, wary, onto a cushion, she at last noticed what lay upon the table: a familiar cardboard box with ragged edges, files and papers visible near the top. A few tomes sat beside the box; Rei spotted scraps of paper jutting from between the pages, marking unknown passages in their depths.

"While going through your aunt's things," said Genkai, "I found a letter."

Rei shut her eyes, but it was no use. She knew what the envelope that contained that letter would look like even before Genkai drew it from the interior of her red and white robes. She knew the tattered edges and the soft way the paper bent after years of being run between her fingers. She knew the stamp with the peeling edges, held to the envelope with a bit of tape (because she'd put it there when the stamp began to peel). She even knew the handwriting on the front that spelled her name, ink smudged after a decade's caresses beneath her hands. Although Rei had not held the letter in years, the obsessive way she'd read it when she first inherited her aunt's apartment years before had rendered the letter's memory immutable, sight etched into her mind like a name carved in cold stone. Rei even remembered the face of the lawyer who'd handed it over, the way his red silk tie winked in the light of a setting sun as he caught her late one evening after class. She remembered, too, the lump in her throat as she'd lifted the envelope's flap. An uneven tear in the paper bore testament to the way her hands had shook, rumpled nerves creasing neat planes into disorder as unsettled as the heart beating hard in her throat.

But Genkai did not know these things, and she held the letter out for Rei's inspection. "I trust you know what this says?"

Rei stared at the floor. "I do."

"Allow me to read it aloud for the class anyway."

Rei's stomach lurched; she blurted, "That isn't necess — "

But Genkai did not wait. She removed the letter from the envelope and began to read, her nasal monotone humming in the temple's quiet air. Like the sight of the letter itself, Rei knew the words by heart even though she had not allowed herself to read them in many years. She had no reason to reread the letter, after all. It only brought pain whenever it crossed her mind. But Genkai droned on like a swarm of buzzing wasps, each syllable as wicked as their sting.

Dearest Rei, the letter read.

If you are reading this, I am no longer of this world.

Forgive me if I ramble, but my time is short and my hand unsteady.

I do not expect you to understand the reasons behind my actions. It has been years since the day we last saw one another, and I have every confidence that you made up your mind about me in that time — just as I have every confidence your feelings for me are no longer warm, as they were when you were a child. But you are not a child anymore, Rei. And that is why I must tell you this, at last:

Though it pains me to admit it, and cliché though it must sound, what I did was for your own good.

(Rei, even without seeing the page of her aunt Chidori's shaky handwriting, remembered which phrases had been underlined. The words stood out in her mind like ink spilled on snow, black on white, vivid and inescapable. But Genkai kept talking, and Rei put the image from her mind.)

I know you won't believe that, Chidori had continued. I know you must resent me for not taking you in after the death of your mother — my dearest sister — and your father. However, it is my hope that the gift of this inheritance will aid you in the days to come.

Perhaps you will understand what I mean by that, someday. Perhaps you will not. I fact, I hope you will not. But that is a wish on my part, and a wish only time can grant.

I digress.

My home, the apartment I have bequeathed to you, represents and contains all of my worldly possessions. They are all yours, now. May they be a blessing and an aid in my absence. May they guide you where I cannot… though I confess that I hope you will never need any of what I have left behind.

I loved you like a daughter, Rei. I wish you well in life and in the pursuit of happiness. Grow old in peace, and think of me someday with fondness — though I know that, too, is a wish only time can grant.

I love you, though you may not believe me.

I love you, no matter how far apart we've grown.

I love you, and nothing will ever change that.

Your aunt,

Chidori

Genkai spoke Chidori's name nearly in a whisper. Rei hardly heard her, however. The chorus of "I love you" had placed a ringing in her ears, a sharp cry of pain and anguish that brought red to her eyes and tension to her shoulders. One fist lay clenched atop the table at her side, fingernails digging into palms, bright sparks of pain the only thing keeping Rei grounded and intact.

"You had no right to read that," she spat at Genkai through her teeth. "To snoop. To meddle. To — "

"It's a good thing I did, Yamato," Genkai interjected. "If I hadn't, I wouldn't have known to ask Botan here for that favor she mentioned."

Rei scowled. "What are you — ?"

"What do you make of that letter, Yamato? What do you think it means?" Genkai smacked the page with the back of her hand, paper rattling like wings in a gale. "Line by line, I want you to tell me. What was your aunt, Chidori, saying to you when she penned this letter?"

For a long while, Rei said nothing — because what the fuck was she supposed to say? Wasn't it obvious what her aunt, Chidori, had been saying? Was Genkai a fucking moron who needed it spelled out for her or something? But Rei was just a bit too scared of Genkai to say that (lest Genkai make her run, like, a hundred miles and sit under even more icy waterfalls to train or whatever) so she kept her mouth shut. She stared at the box on the table, instead, cataloging the items spread around it in an array of paper. Where Genkai had not used scraps of paper for bookmarks, she'd used ribbon, tails of brightly colored fabric trailing from the books and onto the table in rainbow spirals.

What had Genkai found in those books? Fuck if Rei knew. And fuck if she knew if any of it mattered, either.

"When I first came here," Rei said eventually, "after you helped me talk to Himiko, I told you all about my life. I said I would only tell the story once, and I meant that."

Botan didn't speak, staring at Rei through enormous, bright pink eyes. (Damn, did the girl wear colored contacts or what?) Rei met Genkai's deadpan gaze with defiance she didn't really feel inside; her hand snuck up to her wig, tugging it gently into place. Rei hated talking about this shit, and if Genkai thought she was about to get mushy and cry or whatever, she had another thing coming.

"Chidori… she was my aunt and I trusted her, but the moment I needed her most, she vanished," Rei said, hating the way her throat tightened with emotion at every word. "She didn't want me. She didn't do right by me. You heard the letter. She's apologizing. Must've felt guilty in her dying days for abandoning me or something, I dunno."

Genkai's left eyebrow hiked high. "Dying days?"

"The lawyer said she was sick, and had been sick for a long time," Rei told her with a shrug. "And you hear her in the letter — her time was short and whatnot? Maybe she didn't take me in when my parents died because she was too sick, but it's not like she ever bothered to explain, so..." She shook her head, tips of her short, bobbed wig brushing her smooth cheeks. "No. I think my aunt was selfish, happy to be my friend when she didn't have to care for me solo, but as soon as responsibility reared its head — "

"Yamato." Genkai's voice scratched the air like a nail on slate. "When do you think Chidori died?"

The question threw Rei for a momentary loop. But she came to an answer for the bizarre query quickly enough, she supposed: "I mean, the lawyer said it was only a few weeks before I inherited her apartment. You can't exactly leave something to somebody in a will if you're still alive…"

"How long ago with this?" Genkai asked.

"Long enough ago for this conversation to be annoying."

Genkai stared at her. Rei sighed.

"About a decade ago, when I was 18," said Rei. "Why?"

"The wording in this letter. 'If you're reading this, I'm no longer of this world.'" Genkai rapped her knuckles against the pages a second time. "Now that you know there's more than one world in the heft of existence, don't you think that vague wording is worth examining in full?"

"Not really. I don't give a damn," Rei retorted. "Chidori let me down when I needed her, and — "

Genkai bared her teeth. "Can you let go of your petty grudge for once and just listen to me?"

Rei startled, affronted. "Petty? You think this is — ?"

Genkai nodded. A wry laugh bit its way out of Rei's mouth, staining her lips with bitter fury even as it sent the heat of trembling rage into her blood. Rei was on her feet in seconds, but she didn't even feel herself move. She was too focused on Genkai, staring at the old psychic through blurred vision and with her heart in her throat. How dare Genkai say such a thing to her? She had no idea what Rei had been through, how Rei had suffered! She had no idea, so who was she to stand there and call Rei petty? How fucking dare she!

"My parents died when I was fucking child," Rei said in a low, urgent growl, "and that woman you call my aunt told the court she didn't want me." One hand slapped against her chest, stinging and rough. "Do you know what it's like to be a 10-year-old and be told that no one wants you? What it's like to be shuffled from foster home to foster home, totally alone and with no one to turn to?" Rei laughed, though there was no humor in it. "Chidori didn't even keep in touch with me! She didn't even write to me! I was a child left wondering what was wrong with me, what I'd done to deserve this, if I was too broken to love, if I was too fucking damaged for — "

Botan hiccupped, a single crystalline tear trailing down her ivory cheek. Rei watched it fall in silence, words bitten off at the hilt, breath coming too hard and too fast for her to continue speaking. If she'd kept talking, she'd have told Genkai that her hair started falling out right around the time she went into foster care. Every handful of it had been confirmation she was too broken, too defective, too ugly for anyone to love. No one wanted to adopt the balding, grief-stricken little emo kid who just sat staring at the wall, not speaking, too lost in depression to make a good impression. And the fact that all the kids at her home got adopted except for her didn't do anything to change those insidious suspicions.

But Rei hadn't gotten this far in life by feeling sorry for herself, and she wasn't about to start now. With stiff arms she grabbed the box on the table and swept the books, papers and other junk inside, out of sight. From the box wafted the barest trace of a floral scent; Rei refused to name the flower, even though she knew its name.

"Nothing I feel about Chidori is petty, Genkai," she said (a little sorry that Botan's hiccup had turned into a sob, yeah, but not so sorry that she'd stop what she was doing to comfort her). "Whatever her reasons may be, Chidori abandoned me in my darkest hour. No stupid apology letter can make up for that."

Genkai said nothing (for fucking once, Rei thought). She just watched Rei heft the box into her arms in silence. Rei wasn't entirely sure what she read in the crone's yellow-tinted eyes, but then again, she wasn't sure she really gave a shit, either. Thus Rei strode purposefully toward the door, trying not to notice Botan's heartbroken expression or the way she'd pressed her sleeve against her mouth, forlorn.

Just as Rei's hand alit upon the sliding paper door, however, Genkai spoke.

"I understand your feelings." Her voice, soft wind in the tall reeds, came gentler than before. "But even if this letter turns your stomach, there are things within it that bear scrutiny. Like that opening line, as I mentioned. As soon as I read it, I began to suspect something — something I needed Botan's help to confirm."

Rei kept her hand on the door, but she didn't open it. "Botan?" she said instead. "Why Botan?"

Botan took a deep breath and stood, too. "Genkai asked me to look into your aunt's death, Yamato," she said in the tone you'd use to speak to a frightened horse. "Spirit World keeps careful records of mortal lives, each and every one of them. Looking at these records is a simple matter for a ferrygirl like me."

Rei swallowed. "So you looked into…?"

"Yes. I did." Botan took a step forward, tentative smile on her mouth. "Now, before I tell you what I found, I should explain that Spirit World keeps records of a great many things. Births, deaths, changes in our predictions for the universe's timeline… but when it comes to mortals, we keep track of their lives by tracing their life energy."

"Their life energy." Rei considered this a second, hand falling from the door at last. "Himiko explained that to me, I think."

"That's great!" Botan gushed — but pleasure turned to despair, a darkness swallowing the light behind her brilliant eyes. "In the hall of records, there exists a field of lanterns, one for every mortal life in existence. These lanterns ignite at a mortal's birth, and they go out when a mortal passes from the world, reflecting the dimming of that mortal's life energy. When the lantern goes out…"

"The human is dead," Rei guessed (because it was obvious as hell and she wasn't dumb).

"Yes," said Botan, "and we keep careful record of when each lantern goes dark. Acting upon Genkai's instructions, I examined your aunt's lantern." The darkness in her eyes deepened. "And…"

"And?" Rei said.

Botan looked at the floor between them. "She is dead, as you said."

"Thank god." The tension in Rei's shoulders slackened, a rope pulled taut and then severed by a sharp blade. "For a second I thought you might say she was still…" But Rei's momentary relief cracked and broke when Botan continued to stare at the floor, eyes filling with inscrutable tears. The rope stretched taut across Rei's back again, tense as suspended steel. "Uh oh. What's that look on your face for?"

Botan took a deep breath. "Well…"

"Just tell her, Botan!" Genkai snapped, patience wearing thin at last.

"Oh, all right!" Botan exclaimed irritably. Her tears vanished into frustration, but she spoke no less sweetly to Rei than before when she said, "Yamato, I know this is going to be a shock to hear, but — your aunt's life did not end ten years ago. It ended two years ago."

At first, Rei thought she had misheard Botan — but when Botan stared at her in anticipatory silence, watching for Rei's reaction, she realized she had not misheard at all. "What?" was all she managed to murmur as she returned Botan's stare, still not quite believing that she'd heard correctly.

"The record of her life ended two years ago, not ten," Botan repeated.

Again, Rei couldn't quite process this. "But — " she stammered. "But I — how?"

"We're not sure," Botan admitted. "But that letter… it alluded to your aunt not being 'of this world.' And sure, that's a euphemism for death among humans, but…"

"But taken literally, I would hazard a guess that your aunt didn't die when she left you her apartment. I believe she only left Human World, perhaps faking her death in the process," said Genkai. "Perhaps she ventured into Demon World for some reason. Whatever the case, the fact that she left you all of her worldly possessions indicates she never intended to return." Genkai's chin lowered nearly to her chest. "At least not alive."

For a long while, no one spoke. Rei's arms ached around the box she held in them, but she didn't move or shift. She just stared into the middle distance, not quite hearing, not quite seeing. Just… existing. Because she feared if she moved, she might shatter into a hundred little pieces, uncertainty breaking down the crystalized emotions and conclusions she'd born inside herself for so long.

This — if all of this were true, and Chidori had only died two years ago, it would mean —

The mirror in her pocket burned, a sun pressed against her ribcage swaddled in thin cloth. Her hand would've wandered to the mirror if not for the box that occupied it. She breathed deeply of the sultry air, tasting the brazier's perfumed smoke on her dry tongue.

"I don't know what to say," said Rei, because this was true.

But Genkai wasn't convinced, saying "Don't you?" the way you'd call someone out for lying to your face. Stepping closer to Rei, she said, "Himiko knows the name of the demon who apparently slew your aunt. That name repeats itself in your aunt's books and records; I checked. And that means — "

"Stop it," Rei whispered.

" — and that means," said Genkai, undeterred, "that Chidori knew she was being hunted. She knew to leave you information and warnings about what might be coming for you. And that means she left because — "

"Stop," said Rei, louder this time.

But Genkai did not stop, forging ahead like a freight train. " — because she was trying to protect — "

"Stop!"

At last Genkai shut up, Rei's bellow for quiet plunging the room into thick silence. Botan's mouth parted in shock; she took a quick step backward, calves bumping against the low table with a whump. Heat from the coal-filled brazier in the corner felt like fire on Rei's face, but she ignored it, juggling her box into one arm so she could snatch her aunt's letter from Genkai's hand.

"You had no right," Rei said as she shoved the letter out of sight. "You had no right to pry, to meddle, to sneak — "

"Have you forgotten that you wanted our help?" Genkai observed.

"You had no right!" This, too, came out in a yell, one that cracked Rei's voice with emotions she wasn't yet ready to name. "Just — just leave me alone, dammit!"

Rei stormed out of the room without looking back, heedless of the way Botan called her name, begging her to wait (a call Genkai didn't agree with, telling Botan to let the fool girl go cool off — a command that only made the fire in Rei's chest burn hotter still). She wasn't precisely sure where she was going; Rei just let her feet guide her down the hall and then around a few corners, eventually taking her back to the main courtyard at the top of the temple's long flight of stone stairs. Since being — well, since being anywhere would feel better than being in this goddamn hellhole of personal revelations, Rei went to the stairs and took them two at a time down toward the highway at their base, heavy box of books and papers more than once sending her careening nearly over the edge of the steps. Eventually she stopped leaping down them and veered off their stony expanse, plunging into the forest and walking into the woods until only the highest roof of the temple compound rose above the treetops. Only when the barest peak of those eaves remained visible did Rei stop and collapse onto a stump, box landing with a thud atop her knees.

Birds sang in a tree overhead. Wing whistled through thin branches. The scents of earth and crushed weeds smelled sharply of green and growing things. Rei's heart hammered in her chest, hands clammy on her thighs, strands of her wig clinging to her sweaty face like the tentacles of some insecure, gossamer octopus. She peeled the tendrils from her face with a huff and bent over her knees to breathe, inhaling the scent of old books and musty pages — and the barest whiff of jasmine perfume, old and musty.

None of this had been on Rei's agenda today. None of this had been expected in any way, shape, or form. Hell if Rei knew what the fuck it was supposed to mean.

Not that the pieces weren't easy to put together. Botan had said her aunt had died just two years ago… right around the time Rei started her fortune telling business in earnest, in fact. Right around the time Takeshi came into her life, bringing other demon clients along with him. Right around the time she'd started telling fortunes for real. The timing of these things was impossible to ignore. But the connection between these events… what it seemed to suggest…

Rei shivered despite the sunshine beating a warpath against her bare nape.

Rei did not like thinking about what these events indicated. It was too painful.

Seeking a distraction (because what the hell else was she supposed to do!?) Rei slid the box off her lap and set it at her feet so she could draw from it a random book, fingers skipping purposefully around Chidori's letter. She selected a slim volume bound in letter into which Genkai had tucked a length of blue ribbon. Rei opened the tome to this bookmark and skimmed the page, eyes skipping like a stone over a woodcut illustration of a shark swimming through black water.

The caption of this image read: "The all-black eyes of the Mako shark are said to glimpse the future. Ancient kings were said to consume the eyes in hopes of gaining access to these supernatural powers."

Once again, Rei shivered.

What was it the demons had said about needing her eyes intact?

Had they been seeking Chidori's eyes, too?

Bending once more over her lap, Rei took a series of slow, deep breaths, trying to calm the heart racing inside her chest. But when she bent, something poked sharply into her ribcage — the handle of Himiko's mirror, object still resting serenely inside her pocket. Rei pulled it out and stared at it for a minute in silence, studying her sweat-streaked face and ratty wig (fuck, she'd need to brush it later) without a word.

Then, slowly, Rei tried to meditate.

It wasn't as easy to do without Genkai there to guide her, of course. Rei wasn't some self-help-book guzzling housewife who practiced mindfulness or whatever; she had little, if any, experience in getting into touch with ghosts, something for which she felt at once grateful and resentful. But despite having only been shown how to meditate once, she soon found her brain buzzing absently as she stared into the mirror's depths, the sounds of the wind in the trees and the trill of birdsong fading even as the feeling of the stump under her ass faded into obscurity, too. Soon she found herself falling away from reality entirely, coming to stand in a dark void illuminated by the glare of a single spotlight.

Himiko — the warrior shaman who no doubt had something to do with Rei's seemingly easy migration into the realm of the spirit — stood in this spotlight, her ivory kosode and necklace of jade magatama beads contrasting brilliantly with her curtain of long black hair and all-black eyes. Eyes like a mako shark's, Rei couldn't help but think, but she put the thought from her head. Something else about Himiko's eyes had caught her attention, after all.

Namely, the fact that they brimmed full of heartbreak.

Himiko was the most beautiful woman Rei had ever seen. Her aristocratic features, silken head of hair, and crimson lips made her appear like a character out of a storybook. The look of sadness on her face didn't suit her beauty at all, and Rei felt the urge to comfort Himiko the second she saw that expression in her dark, liquid eyes — but before she could say a word, Himiko stepped forward with her slender hands outstretched, looking at Rei as though she were the one in need of comfort. Which made little goddamn sense to Rei, but Himiko was weird AF, so…

"My child," lamented Himiko in her soft, musical voice. "Oh, Rei."

"Not a child," Rei said automatically, and then she shook her head, trying to focus. "Did you hear all of that? What Botan said?"

Himiko nodded. A pit opened in Rei's stomach, yawning and dark.

"And was she right?" Rei asked, hardly daring to speak. "Did Chidori die just two…?"

A moment passed — and then Himiko nodded again. Rei's stomach dived into the Marianas Trench, threatening to pull her down deep. But Rei would not allow herself to feel deterred.

"And is her death what made my powers start…?" she asked, courage failing her at the final moment.

Another pause elapsed — but Himiko nodded a third time, and Rei nearly staggered in place. It was almost miraculous that she remained standing, truth be told.

After all, it isn't every day one learns they've gained psychic powers at the cost of someone else's life.

"But… why?" Rei rasped, every word a battle. "I don't understand. I don't understand what she, what Chidori — "

"Don't you, though?" Himiko's voice floated on the air like dandelion down, seeking to take root inside Rei's heart. "Do you not understand what her abandonment of the Human Realm must mean in light of this?"

"No," Rei insisted. "Just — no!"

"Rei, my child…" Himiko shook her head. "Be not so damnably obstinate."

"I'm not being obstinate," Rei shot back. "I just — I just can't. I can't…" Somehow, Rei felt her throat tighten, her eyes sting with unshed tears despite her incorporeal presence in the void. "I've spent so long hating her, but this — ?"

"If you will not listen to me," Himiko said in her voice of silk, "perhaps you will listen to her."

Rei began to ask what Himiko meant.

Before she could force the words, Himiko raised her hand and snapped.

The darkness around them shattered, an unseen brick thrown through glass obsidian. Shards of darkness fell away to reveal splintered colors swimming forward, kaleidoscopic swirl knitting together to form an image Rei recognized at once: the interior of a public library, one Rei knew from countless childhood days spent inside its walls. From the greenery-dripping atrium in the library's center to the colorful posters depicting classic literature on the walls, it was precisely as Rei remembered, every detail rendered with the care and affection of a memory dearly held. The scents of books and glue, too, stitched seamlessly into the memory's vivid tapestry, filling Rei with nostalgia so intense, it brought a tear to her dark eye. She and Himiko stood between rows of books, sun from enormous windows placing icy highlights in Himiko's silken hair. But Rei hardly saw these things, eyes affixed instead upon the young girl sitting ahead of them in the children's section.

She had black hair, this child, and black eyes to match. She wore a neatly ironed dress, one Rei knew her mother had chosen for her that morning before school. The child rested a book on her lap to read, one pudgy finger tracing the words as her thick brows knit upon her forehead. Rei had never been the prettiest child, and the sight of that heavy unibrow on such a young face made her laugh on sight.

Her laughter ceased when she walked over, though.

When Chidori appeared from between shadowed rows of books, the child — that depiction of Rei's childhood self — looked up with a frown and a groan. Chidori stifled a giggle and slipped onto the cushion at Rei's side, gathering the girl into her lap as she pulled the book into her soft hands. The scent of jasmine perfume, Chidori's signature, filled Rei's nose with familiarity and pleasure. Chidori wore her rich black hair in a long, thick braid, gentle eyes hidden behind a pair of glittering oval eyeglasses. She looked just like Rei's mother, like Rei, like Himiko, the mark of family lying heavy on her pale brow.

Rei had been wrong, earlier, when she said Himiko was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. That title belonged to Chidori, and to Chidori alone.

"Rei-chan." Chidori's soft voice carried through the quiet library as she pillowed her chin atop Rei's head. "Did you need help?"

Rei pointed at the pages before them. "What's that kanji mean?" she said, lisping through the words one by one.

Chidori giggled. "It means 'pagoda.'"

"Pagoda," Rei repeated with the seriousness of a focused child. "And what's that?"

Again Chidori laughed — a sound Rei had not heard in some time, and one that filled her with warmth down to her toes. Chidori had always showed up right when Rei needed her most, and that day at the library — like so many days Rei had spent at the library with her aunt after school — was no different. Chidori always appeared precisely when Rei needed her, manifesting a preternatural attunement to Rei's emotions that had made Chidori as beloved to Rei as her own mother. The child-Rei beamed as she snuggled into Chidori's lap, safety and warmth showing on her young face as Chidori read to her from the book they held, child safe in the arms of someone who loved her.

"I love you, auntie," Rei said when they closed the book.

Chidori kissed Rei's crown. "And I love you, Rei-chain," she whispered.

Between the rows of books, Rei herself took a tentative step forward, heart in her mouth, hand outstretched, Chidori's smiling face framed in the space between her yearning fingertips —

Unforshadowed, the image of the library shattered like a window beneath a stone.

Once again the image fell away to reveal an infinitely eddying fractal of color, hues coalescing with a disorienting whirl into the image of a graveyard, warm books replaced by cold headstones. Rows of stony haka filled the gated yard like stern sentinels, plumes of incense and the sweet scents of flowers mixing with the heady petrichor of the weeping clouds above. A tiny Rei stood before a tall haka of formidable size, its grey face inscribed with the Yamato family name. Wooden sotoba around the monument bore the names of Rei's ancestors, material cracked and faded and weathered with time and exposure to the elements — but two sotoba looked fresh, wood springy and new, the paint upon them not faded in the least.

Rei, with her adult eyes, easily read the names these new boards carried.

They belonged to her parents, after all.

But to the young girl standing before them, hand in hand with a black-clad Chidori, the names were harder to read thanks to the tears filling her dark eyes. Rain pattered against the umbrella above their heads, sound nearly drowning out the murmur of the Buddhist priest reciting a poem at the graveside. Behind the child and Chidori stood a knot of mourners all in black. One of them held two framed portraits depicting Rei's dead parents; Rei refused to look at them. Instead Rei held tightly to her auntie's hand, clinging desperately to her cold fingers, drinking down the comforting scent of jasmine perfume, hoping for a smile, a laugh, the earnest promise everything would be all right even as grief ate a hole into her heart —

But Chidori only stared at the graves in solemn silence, and to Rei she said nothing.

Soon the priest ceased his chanting, kneeling instead at the foot of the haka to pray, hands skimming lightly atop the wreaths of flowers left by those who'd loved the Yamatos before their passing. Raindrops slicked the petals like fallen tears, soon joined by tears that dribbled from Rei's young and troubled eyes. She sniffed and dried her face on her black sleeve, crying softly into her aunt's side for comfort. But Chidori gave her none.

"Tell your parents that you love them, Rei-chan," was all she murmured. "Tell them goodbye."

"Goodbye Mommy, Daddy," Rei sniffled, trusting and obedient. "I love you very much."

"Good." Chidori's eyes shut, mouth curved with bitterness. She spoke so softly, Rei almost didn't hear her. "My sister. Brother in law. I promise that I will do the right thing." Her hand around Rei's tightened, cold. "I promise."

Chidori said nothing else. After giving the priest a nod, she pulled Rei away from the haka and toward the cemetery's gates. The crowd of mourners parted around them to allow passage, crowd closing up behind them like water after a shark. But as Rei and Chidori neared the gate, a woman stepped into their path. She wore a gray suit, unlike the rest of the grieving party, and under her arm she carried a plastic folder. This she held toward Chidori, glancing once at Rei.

"You're sure?" the woman asked in a strained voice. "It's not too late to reconsider."

But Chidori said, "I'm sure," and she took the folder. Opened it. Signed something within and handed it back, face as impassive as an ivory mask.

Once more, her hand around Rei's tightened.

"Rei-chan." Her lips barely moved when she spoke; she looked straight ahead, unflinching. "You need to go with her now."

"B-but…" Rei stared at Chidori in confusion. "But who is she?"

"She is your caseworker. She's going to take you to your new home."

But Rei did not understand. "My new…?" she murmured, searching Chidori's face for answers.

None came. "You must go with her, Rei-chan." Chidori let go of Rei's hand so she could push her forward, away. "You must go, now."

"But Auntie — " Rei gave a little cry and dug in her heels, reaching desperately for Chidori's soft touch. "But Auntie, can't I go home with you?"

Chidori, for a moment, said nothing — and when Chidori knelt and placed her hands upon Rei's shoulders, those hands felt as heavy and immovable as the haka of the graveyard just behind them.

"No, Rei," Chidori said in a voice as deeply set as mountains. "You can't come home with me."

Rei's throat thickened. "But why — ?"

"You just can't, Rei-chan." Her eyes had turned as stony as her hands, jasmine perfume no longer sweet. "I'm sorry. But I can't take care of you."

Rei didn't know what to do, what to feel. She said nothing, barely aware of the caseworker taking her hand. She felt it when the woman tried to pull her away from Chidori, though, digging in her heels without a second thought. But still Rei's heart felt nothing, cold as if carved from ice —

The caseworker tugged. "Come along, sweetheart."

The calm inside Rei snapped. "No!" she shrieked, reaching for Chidori. "No, Auntie! Auntie, I want — "

"I'm sorry, Rei," Chidori said, not sounding sorry at all. "But this is for the best."

Rei screamed, a primal sound of fear and pain, kicking and yanking at her caseworker's iron grasp, but it was no use. The woman held on tightly, dragging Rei down the sidewalk even when Rei knocked the umbrella from her hands, the pair of them doused in freezing rain. Chidori stood upon the concrete and stared after them, face inscrutable, her own umbrella sagging until it, too, lay inert upon the ground. Rain matted her dark hair against her cheeks like seaweed tossed ashore by a storm, black eyes mired in black strands. That was the last memory Rei had of her aunt, of the woman staring impassively after her, expression as unfeeling as though it carved from stone — but as Rei and her caseworker turned a corner down the street and disappeared, the Rei of the present continued to stand at the side of Chidori's memory.

She could not help but notice that this version of Chidori's cheeks were wet, and had been wet since before she let her umbrella fall.

As before, the memory collapsed into a phantasmagoria of color. This time, no new colors took its place. Rei found herself once more in the black space of the mirror, Himiko standing before her in her kosode of white silk, jade necklace gleaming in the faded light of this intangible space. But Rei felt tangible enough, breathing hard and fast as her heartbeat thundered in her chest. Himiko looked at Rei with pity undisguised.

"My child," she said in her musical voice, low and sorrowful like some forgotten funerary dirge. "Surely now you must glimpse the truth. Surely now the nature of your aunt's design has revealed itself to you. Surely you remember the bond you shared with her — "

"It doesn't matter."

Himiko's brow furrowed. "Rei?"

"It doesn't matter." Rei shook her head, fighting against the understanding she now possessed. "It doesn't matter if she did that to protect me — "

"But that is what she did!" Himiko cried. "She placed distance between herself and you, because even then she felt the eyes of Tutivillus — "

"It doesn't matter!" Rei spat. "I was still alone and abandoned with no explanation! No matter how good her reasons were, it doesn't undo the hurt that she — "

"But Rei," said Himiko with a gentleness that Rei despised. "Surely now you must be able to forgive — "

"Shut up!" The words emerged like a lion's roar, pain and hurt and anger rising like magma to Rei's lips. "Just — just shut up! I'm not ready, Himiko, I'm — I'm not ready!"

"But — !"

But Rei was not ready to hear what Himiko had to say. She was not ready to face the implications of what she'd seen. She wasn't sure when she'd be ready, precisely, but she knew that today wasn't fucking it. So Rei did the one thing she could think of, and she shut her eyes, reaching inside herself for control and willpower. Somehow she managed to find both, wresting the mirror down from her face and breaking Himiko's spell, leaving herself blinking in the sunny forest, scent of green and growing things crowding out the scents of funeral flowers, jasmine perfume and petrichor.

And yet, while Rei had managed to tear her mind from Himiko, a voice still echoed through her head, the image of regal black eyes surfacing briefly in the mirror's depths.

"My child," the voice said with low urgency. "The woods — lest ye seek your own demise, do not venture — "

Rei shoved the mirror into her pocket and out of sight.

Himiko and her stupid warnings, her stupid portents, her stupid everything. Rei practically fumed as she stood up to pace, deliberately crushing falling leaves under baleful feet. What right did Himiko have to force Rei to look back on one of the darkest moments of her life? Her parents' funeral and Chidori's rejection had haunted her for years; surely Himiko knew just how awful seeing that would make Rei feel. And to expect Rei to digest and accept all the shit she'd just learned, all the shit that changed everything (if it was true) — it was stuff Rei wasn't sure she could stand to think about, because it meant she'd spent the last goddamn decade hating the one person who had ever actually given a damn about her, and —

Rei chafed her arms despite the warmth of the spring day, feeling somehow cold within the grasp of the sunshine overhead. The call of nearby birdsong sounded as loud as gunfire. The scents of the forest, too, grated against her nerves, aromas of crushed leaves and disturbed soil pungent and overwhelming. Still, she breathed deeply of them, trying to ground herself in the moment as she tugged at the front of her wig for comfort. But try though she might, she couldn't get that look on Chidori's face out of her head, the way she'd seen tears of sorrow slicking her aunt's cheeks even before they were touched by rain —

She hardly noticed when she began to walk, beating a hectic track deeper into the woods, away from where she'd abandoned the box of Chidori's papers and documents. Rei just needed to get out of her head, that was all. Maybe she'd find that running trail Genkai had showed her the day before. Maybe she'd go for an impromptu stroll, take in the sights, try to get her mind off of everything. What Rei wouldn't give for a nightclub where she could wile away her troubles, not think, get lost in the rhythm of music and dance to her heart's content, where she could just be and not worry about —

Rei stepped forward over a bit of overturned earth.

Something moved in her periphery, and then something else wound tight and fast around her wrist.

The whatever-the-hell-it-was grabbed Rei so hard it sent her stumbling, knocking her off her axis and spiraling toward the ground. Only thanks to years of spins in ballrooms across to Japan did she manage to find her footing and not go crashing to the ground, but when she saw what had grabbed her and latched on tight, she sort of wished she'd hit her own damn head and knocked herself right the hell out. From within the bit of overturned earth she'd tried to step past, a vine had lashed out of the soil, fleshy green thing wrapping around her wrist so hard her fingers had already started to go numb. She stared at it in shock before wrenching her arm over her head, trying to shake herself loose with a cry of fright and anger.

Only Rei didn't accomplish much. No sooner did she pull on the vine than did another burst free with a shower of earth, skittering toward her across the ground to wrap its vegetative length around her ankle, too. Rei hollered and kicked, a strangled sound that sent the birds in the trees skyward in a chorus of squawks and lost feathers, but her cry died when the earth buckled and broke, grass tearing free with a rip and a crack. From beneath the roiling soil emerged a round, fleshy sack mottled with blue and brilliant orange, gigantic object ripping free of the ground to reveal a long column of pulsing indigo flesh, a hollow throat of plant matter that snapped and gnashed at the top like the mouth of a gaping maw.

Because it was a gaping maw, Rei realized with a jolt. The opening at the top of the plant was ringed with wickedly sharp teeth, a red tongue undulating within the pitcher plant's long neck. Saliva dripped from the rows of teeth around the opening, and where the drool hit the ground, the forest's vegetation withered and died with an acidic hiss.

"Holy fuck," said Rei, aghast. "What in the seven hells are you supposed to be?" She gulped when the plant angrily flapped the leaves branching off its base, panicked babbling spilling from her lips. "Oh, that's right — you're a mean, green motherfucker from outer space!"

In response, the pitcher plant (perhaps a touch offended at Rei's language, or something equally asinine) just opened its mouth and roared—and with an incensed shriek and a hiss, it lunged for Rei's frozen throat.

X

who can guess what Rei's quoting with that last line of dialog, hmm? she's sassy to the end…

sorry i didn't update last week…i sliced open my fingertip while getting the pit out of an avocado (EMBARRASSING) and it hurt too badly to type…avocados are delicious deathtraps and i hate how much i love them! but i have Pokémon band-aids so it's all right.

Cherryberry123, Sorlian, GinaLiz, Damanged Forest Spirit and Lady Skynet are gorgeous people who said nice shit last time and are the lights of my life and i love them to bits and pieces

oh, and i missed some of you last time, readers! like half of the people who reviewed 16 skipped 17… but i still love you! help me recover from my injury by leaving a comment? pllleeeease? i am pathetic and injured and could use love!

SEE YOU NEXT WEDNESDAY unless a mango tries to murder me or something LMFAO