A/N: Once again, thank you for the reviews! It brightens my day to know that there are still readers out there :).

Chapter 3

It was dark now, but lanterns burnt brightly against the wooden stalls and tents of the market.

The suffocating smells of hot oil and dried fish stained the air as two plump hands worked dexterously, kneading a fistful of sweetened rice dough on a worn cutting board. After a few counts, the hands doused the dough in syrup and thumbed out six marble sized balls, which were then scooped onto a plate made of folded paper.

"Two irons."

Coins exchanged hands, and the flimsy plate found its way onto a pair of fair palms. Reito turned away from the stand and gathered the plate onto one hand, using his other to pick up one of the sweets. "Care for a daki?" he asked.

The woman turned to look at her companion and smiled at his dirt stained cheeks. Reito had decided to lean fully into their disguise, and she couldn't help but to give in when he asked to dust her face to match his own. Now, in their tattered tunics and pants, she felt almost like a caricature. She took the offered sweet and placed it in her mouth. Her brow creased at the taste.

"It's sweet, isn't it?" Reito said, watching her, and popped the daki he had been holding into his mouth. A grimace crossed his face. "Yes, very sweet."

Shizuru chuckled, and they made their way through the street. It was crowded; every so often she could feel the hasty push of a hand or elbow - constant reminders of why she had never liked going to the market. But she hadn't had any scratch in a while, and she needed it soon.

The sudden sound of firecrackers filled the air.

"Come, gather around! The tale will soon begin!" The voice was deep and so magnetic that the pair couldn't help but to follow the sound. A large crowd had already formed around the speaker, and a few young children pushed their way through, taking seats on the frayed mats in the front.

Beside the speaker was a young man, and near his feet was a series of crumpled wooden dolls. The young man moved his hands and the dolls danced - a puppeteer without the need of strings.

Interesting, Shizuru thought, amused. She had only seen this type of gift once before.

She watched the dolls move as the older man began to speak.

"Let me ask you: have you ever thought about how the five kingdoms came to be? How did the Gods choose which land to rule? Perhaps you have wondered about the moonlits and the gifts given to the Kissed, but never understood where they came from.

Well, let me tell you: how anything and everything started with the love from a mother."

The speaker nodded at the puppeteer, who moved his hands, and a golden paper ball floated silently in front of the audience.

"It is said that the kingdoms were fashioned from clay and stone from the ocean - pulled from the deep where the sun refused to touch and only blind creatures dared to swim.

It took thirteen days and thirteen nights for the Mother to sculpt our lands. They say her hands were rubbed raw with blood and sweat as her pottery wheel turned and her hammer rang against the chisel.

For the next five days she slept, and slept. And all the while, her creation began to grow. Plants began to form and cover; creatures were born, bursting out from the ground."

The golden ball drifted to the floor and seemed to inhale before popping and unfolding into a map. Drawn on the map were five islands surrounded by sea. The smallest island sat in the center and was encircled by the others in the north, east, south, and west. Its intricate details glimmered under the lantern lights.

"When the Mother awoke, she summoned her five children and showed them what she had crafted."

The puppeteer moved his hands and five dolls jumped forward, dressed in elaborate robes.

"Each child was gifted a piece. First, the most northern land - Cardair - was given to Ama, seeker of knowledge and collector of words. The west, Artai, was given to willful Uthar, a child obsessed with war and fire."

As the storyteller spoke, one by one the wooden dolls leapt into the air and onto their piece of the map. Their robes lifted and fell, almost as if to float away.

"The south, Aries, was given to steady and reliable Heike. The east, Zipang, was given to mysterious Raijin. And the center, Fuuka - the heart - was given to gentle Eibin, singer of tales and lover of flowers."

At the last few words, a wooden doll dressed in blue robes fell lightly to the center of the map, and all of the dolls spun once together.

"Satisfied, the Mother went back into slumber, leaving her children to tend to their lands.

Unlike his siblings, they say Eibin had been enamored by the land his mother gave him. He would sing, and sing, spinning gentle breezes and pulling warmth from the sun. Greenery sprouted on the ground where his fingertips would stroke, and he gathered the light from the moon and wove it into a flower - a moonlit - and praised it to grow.

And grow the flowers did, spreading across fields and mountains, and sprinkling the forest floors. As long as the moonlits grew and flourished, so did the land."

The doll representing Eibin reached its arms towards the sky. There was a loud pop and a rain of paper petals drifted down. The audience cheered and clapped.

"The soil became fruitful," the storyteller continued. "And then humans were born and they began to build, and as Eibin watched on, he began to love them.

In fact, they say that he had grown so fond of humans that every so often he would kiss the top of the head of a child born. Those who received the kiss would be pricked with a small mark on their skin and given a gift - a random talent… something beautiful.

And so Eibin's lands grew and grew as humans spun their powers and time went on." The speaker dropped his voice and paused.

"But not everyone used their gifts for good. Some became pillagers, killers, crooks of the worst kind.

We call them Scorned, because as much as Eibin could love, he could also hate. He hated them for turning what should be beautiful into horrors - hated, hated them so much that he cursed them, and the marks on their skin began to burn."

Another series of dolls with black charring jumped forward, representing the scorned. They writhed and fell upon the ground.

"They say that when you are scorned, the burning travels from your mark, and across your body, ending at your eyes. And at the same time, your mind begins to splinter and break, driving you mad. It is said that as the Scorned fall into the abyss of death - when that burning finally takes their eyes and makes them blind - they'll see the wrathful face of Eibin before he turns away, leaving them in the dark."

The audience fell quiet, and the storyteller raised a hand to his mouth and cleared his throat. He raised his hand towards the puppeteer, who moved his fingers, causing a flurry of confetti to rain down on the audience. In the air, above the audience, danced more wooden figures, dressed in the reds, blues, and golds of Fuuka.

"It was around this time that Eibin created his own humans. He wove them carefully with his own tears and blood - his creatures that would rule over the kingdom.

And how he loved them… For those with royal blood are all born without markings, and yet, they are all given some of the greatest of gifts."

The dancing dolls in the air pranced around the tops of audience members' heads before drifting down next to the map.

Shizuru watched the dolls and raised her hands to clap with the audience; then the subtlest of movements caught her eye and she paused. She turned to look towards her side. There was a flash of light - the movement of a mirror painted in red.

The holder of the mirror caught her eye briefly and left the crowd. She watched as they headed towards the back alleys of the market, and quietly moved to follow.

A hand touched her arm before she could take a step. "Bored already?" Reito asked. She could tell from the look in his eyes that he had seen everything; despite his carefree demeanor, she had felt his watchful stare on her all evening. Before she could speak, he smiled knowingly. "I'll be waiting here."

She returned his words with a small smile and made her way to the alleyways. The light from the market lanterns was dim here, barely catching the walls. There was a glimmer of light around a corner, another flash from the mirror, and she followed.

The mirror holder stood at a dead end. It was quiet here, and the sounds of the market could barely be heard.

Shizuru walked up to the figure - a young man, who wordlessly held out a closed fist. She placed her hand under it and felt a light weight drop into her palm.

The young man broke the silence. "Extra payment for your last contract - what you've asked for. Yamada sends his thanks. It was a job well done."

Shizuru glanced at the objects in her hand - two small vials laid still, filled with a thick, black liquid.

The young man spoke again. "When you leave, you are not to look back until you reach the corner of the alley." The sound of the voice was so stiff, Shizuru couldn't help but to raise a brow.

She did not move, and instead watched him carefully. It was about the count of five beats before a flash of confusion crossed the young man's face. Oh? she thought. Now that was different - Yamada's messengers never showed emotion… Was he new to the job?

She bit back a smile. A tug of mischief slithered into her heart, and she couldn't help but to tease.

"And if I do look back?" Shizuru asked, her voice light and sweet. She leaned in, tickling the other's nose with her breath. "What will happen then? Will you have to kill me?" She dropped her voice low. "Have you ever killed before?"

The messenger kept his face stern and stoic, but she could see him tremble ever so slightly under her unblinking gaze. He clenched his fist tightly and the trembling subsided slightly. My, my. Let's not go too far. Shizuru let her smile break through, and took a step back.

"Send Yamada my regards," she said, and went back from where she came.

The area where the storyteller had once been was now empty. The audience had dispersed, save the single figure of her companion.

Shizuru could see a dozen questions swirling in Reito's grey eyes, but as she expected, he said nothing. As if reading each other's minds, they both quietly made their way through the market to a place more secluded.

"And now?" It was Reito who spoke first. They had stopped at the side of a building, their bodies half hidden by shadow.

Shizuru wordlessly handed him a vial of the black liquid she had received.

Reito arched a brow. "What is it?" He raised the vial up to take a closer look, his grey eyes watching as the liquid moved, almost as if alive. He paused. That movement - he had seen something similar before. "Is this scratch? Scratch is supposed to be blue."

"Indeed," Shizuru replied, keeping her voice light. She had been hoping that the scholar could have provided her some answers, and concealed her disappointment. "It's new."

"So you've seen this more than once." Reito glanced at her. When her smooth expression didn't change, he spoke again. "When did you start taking it?"

"Oh? Whatever do you mean?" Shizuru cast innocent eyes on her companion. There was a casual smile on Reito's face, but his eyes had changed, and his stare was severe.

It was true - Shizuru was not a stranger to scratch. It was made from the sweet nectar of moonlits, sometimes cut with alcohol, sometimes laced with other drugs. Normally moonlit nectar was harmless; a little too much of it could make someone light headed, and a little more than that could make a man drunk - but the concentration in scratch could drive one to insanity if they weren't careful.

It's like drinking sand, one of the scorned had told her once. It was common for the scorned to take scratch. Shizuru hadn't asked why. She had even kept a vial of it out of amusement, but never to try.

Then one day she had felt uncharacteristically tired. She had brushed it off at first; after all, she hadn't been sleeping well. But who would have known that it would creep up on her during the night? She had first been woken up by the quaint giggling of the wind, and then the bone breaking sound of branches being snapped. It was shortly after that she heard the whispers, quiet at first, then louder - until it became screaming like the buzzing of a thousand bees writhing to the back of her skull, begging her to use her voice, begging her to kill.

Oh, how desperately she had wanted to claw them out.

Taking scratch had alleviated the pain almost immediately, and she had found herself in almost a dreamlike state. Just darkness and quiet - a feeling between tranquility and fear.

Reito didn't push any farther. His expression became thoughtful, and he glanced down at her from the corner of his eye. "So that's why you've called for me. It's about this." He held the vial between his forefinger and thumb.

She gave him a smile.

Whatever the man was feeling in the moment, he made a note not to show it. "Very well then." Reito placed the vial in his pocket.

It was a few hours later when the two parted ways. The market crowd had thinned and some of the stalls had closed up for the night. Here and there the lanterns were snuffed out, leaving patches of darkness amongst the strings of light.

Shizuru had taken a quick turn into one of the alleyways. She had planned to head back to the Sanctuary, where she had hidden her clothes and belongings earlier, but then she had heard the soft sounds of footsteps trailing purposefully behind her.

They had been following her for a while now - never too far, never too close. Just enough. And although their footsteps had been quiet, it wasn't too quiet. It was clear they wanted to know that they were there.

It was after a few more twists and turns, when the darkness was heaviest and only the creeping sounds of crickets filled the air, did Shizuru turn around. The dagger hidden in her sleeve settled near the crook of her wrist.

"Is there something you need?" she asked, her tone a little too polite.

The figure stepped forward, cloaked in brown. A mirror flashed in their hands - it was hard to see, but it seemed to be red. The figure spoke. "New contract." The sound crackled like burning firewood.

Shizuru recognized that voice immediately. It was one of Yamada's main messengers; an old woman. It was true that most times the messengers would just follow her until she stopped to speak to them, so she was no stranger to the situation. But still, how odd, she thought. Perhaps it was how the moon shone sickly in the sky, or how the air felt so stagnant, almost as if rotting - but there was something just a little strange. Something off.

"And the details?"

"Not here." The old woman rasped. "Yamada wants to speak to you directly. Follow closely."

The old woman turned around. They continued to walk along the walls of the alleyways, every so often moving around the odd sleeping body and bottles of liquor that littered the ground. The dagger was held fast against Shizuru's palm.

Then the old woman stopped. She placed her gnarled hands on one of the walls and moved them against the stone bricks, down, down, until they grabbed onto a rusted iron grate near the bottom. She pulled on the bars and the grate broke off easily.

"Inside." The old woman said. "I will not follow. The hole drops down. When you land, head straight and take the first turn to your left."

Shizuru looked at the opening with slight disdain, but Yamada had stranger meeting places before. She crouched near the opening - it was just large enough for a person to fit through.

The older woman watching her did not move. Her weathered face was as stoney as always, and her black eyes were clear. It seemed as if the messenger was not trying to deceive her.

Without another thought, Shizuru slipped through. The drop was not high, and she landed almost silently on the stone ground below. Above her, there was the sound of the grate being put back in place, and Shizuru looked around. She was standing in an intersection of tunnels. On the stone around her, she could see large, winding patches of moss. They seemed to be stretching, reaching for something.

As the old woman had instructed, Shizuru headed straight down the tunnel in front of her, keeping close to the walls. As she kept walking, she noticed a light. There was an opening where the tunnel split into two more paths - left and right. It was the left that was lit.

She stopped before rounding the corner, and pressed herself closer against the stone. Bright torches shone nearby. In the light she could make out four figures. From moving shadows, she could count two more hiding nearby. They were garbed in leather, cut in soldiers' fashion. Each one had a sword hanging from their hip. They weren't Yamada's usual guards.

She could see Yamada standing near the center, garbed in black clothes with his hair wrapped in a single braid trailing down his neck. He wore circular glasses, and had a goatee that was trimmed close against his chin. His face was clear from emotion and unperturbed.

"Shizuru." Yamada called. "I'd usually be more patient, but we're in a little bit of a rush."

Shizuru smiled. She was not afraid.

"My apologies," she said as she walked out into the light.

Yamada raised a brow, taking in the sight of her in tattered civilian clothes. "Well, you look different."

Shizuru followed his eyes down and pulled her lips into a wry smile. "It was… short notice." She glanced at the other men in the room. They looked surprised at her appearance, but even so, they all kept a hand on the hilt of their swords. "Now then, another contract?"

"Ah, yes." Yamada said, clasping his hands together. He didn't react to the movements of the other men. "This one may be a longer one than you're used to. The job is to escort someone to Artai. Someone will receive her once you land in the kingdom. The patron is offering unlimited scratch, land, money, whatever you could desire. It's a good deal, isn't it?"

Unlimited? It was obviously too good to be true, Shizuru thought. A trap? But she knew the man was smarter than that, and out of all the plans he would have made, this one would have been the last.

Her eyes narrowed, but she bit back her tongue and spoke sweetly, cocking her head endearingly to one side. "And if I wanted the heads of half the men here, would that be granted?"

Yamada seemed unmoved, his eyes serious. "It's possible." At his voice, three of the six men unsheathed their swords and held the blades under their own necks.

That uncanny feeling of strangeness pricked at her skin, but she kept her smile in place. Perhaps the man was serious after all. And this patron… As intriguing as it was, Shizuru wasn't sure she wanted to find out. "Well, well. While I appreciate the eagerness, I'm afraid I must decline." Behind her, she could hear the patter of three pairs of footsteps approaching.

I'll have to use my voice, she thought. She had stopped using it to kill where she could, but this time it seemed she wouldn't be so lucky. Perhaps if she only killed half with it, maybe then the burning wouldn't be so bad. The soldiers had started to creep closer. As she began to move with a dagger in hand, she saw one of the men run up to Yamada, sword drawn. The metal began to eat into the older man's neck, drawing beads of blood.

Before the sword went any further, Yamada spoke, his voice heavy. "Wait."

Everyone stilled in place.

"There is one more thing I can offer you," Yamada said, looking at Shizuru. "You should know that you're not the only one left."

Shizuru locked eyes with the man, her red eyes unblinking. "What do you mean?"

"Fifteen years ago, during that incident at the Head Sanctuary, one man managed to survive. He asked to have his identity stripped and to be hidden away. I was personally responsible for his request. If you take this job, I'll tell you where he is."

Shizuru's grip on the dagger turned her knuckles white. You're not the only one left.

"He's ill. He doesn't have much time left." Yamada smiled. "Don't you want to know why everyone killed themselves that day? If so, decide quickly."

It took two heartbeats before Shizuru stepped toward him. "Very well then."

The soldiers nodded at each other and retracted their weapons, and Yamada wiped his neck with the cloth from his sleeve, seemingly unbothered. The soldiers took the torches and began to walk toward the end of the tunnel, away from where Shizuru had entered.

"I'll give you the details," Yamada said, and gestured for her to follow. He made no effort to acknowledge what had happened in the moments before. The man walked briskly. "As I said before, you'll be delivering someone to Artai. You won't be landing in the main port, but in a small dock near a fishing village. You'll have to leave now."

"I'll need to get my belongings," Shizuru said.

"Leave them. Your first stop will be a small town, a days trek away. One of my men will receive you. There, you'll get a set of new clothes and some weapons to help you on your way. He'll give you your next location."

The tunnel had split to a path on the right. Here, the opening was larger. Faded stone carvings ran around the mouth of it, and the moss yet again seemed to grow madly, as if stretching. It was here that the group stopped.

Yamada held out a small sheet of parchment. "I've written down the details of your first location. Memorize it and destroy it."

She made a move to take the paper, but Yamada's grip tightened before she could pull the sheet away. "Shizuru," he said, his voice serious. "This should be an easy one for you. Don't ask too many questions - just get it done. When you come back, ask for money and land. You'll never have to do another contract. You can live however you'd like, wherever you like."

Shizuru raised a brow and her lips pulled into a smile. "I never took you for a caring man."

"Well, unfortunately, it's not just your life on the line." Yamada placed a hand on his neck and smirked. "A mother's wrath is a dangerous thing. I plan on staying alive. You should too." Before Shizuru could ask what he meant, he loosened his grip on the paper, and gestured to one of the soldiers carrying a torch. The soldier nodded at Shizuru to continue to follow.

As Shizuru walked with the lone soldier, she could hear the soft sound of water lapping against an edge. Holes in the stones above the tunnel allowed some moonlight to filter through. In the distance, she could see two silhouettes.

They approached the figures, and Shizuru could hear the sound of droplets clearly. The tunnel's floor ended, and where it stopped was replaced with water. Sitting near the edge was a wooden boat, large enough to fit four. From the light of the torch she could see that there was another soldier already in the boat, holding a long wooden paddle.

Shizuru cast a look at the other figure nearby. They were dressed in a heavy cloak with a hood that obscured their face in shadows. The torchlight touched the expensive looking cloth, painting it gold. This must be the person I'm accompanying, Shizuru thought. The person was thinner and smaller than she had imagined… Almost feminine.

The soldier beside her moved to snuff the torch, and a flicker of a flame danced outward. Shizuru caught the gaze of her patron before the light went out. It was green - those eyes she had just met. Familiar. Now where had she seen those before? Shizuru felt that tickle of uneasiness again, and suddenly the memory of the girl laying in the box clicked in her mind.

Ah.

Her lips curved into an ironic smile. Oh, how fate was a tricky little thing. She spoke, and her voice was lazy.

"So, we meet again."