Regaining control of my senses felt very much like lighting the trail of paper lamps hanging on the walls at my father's old clinic. Night had fallen over my mind, a soot-like darkness that consumed everything around me. I struggled through it, lighting one lantern at a time until my surroundings slowly came into focus. My awareness followed, padding along the trail of light with a halting clumsiness. Through a curtained blurry haze, I saw a heavy-set man sitting above me. His head was shaven, and he wore the dark contrasting colors popular among prominent doctors and physicians that practiced in larger towns and cities.
"Father?" I blinked, trying to bring this man's features into sharper focus. I reached for him, feeling my heart ache in my chest. I hadn't seen his face in so long. It felt like years since we'd spoken even though only months had gone by. But was it any wonder that I felt so relieved to see him? He'd been taken from me — stolen in the night with only a faint trail of blood to follow. I tried not assume the worst, but as months of endless searching went by, I began to believe it. My only hope was the bandit leader's words. 'Our men in Kyoto need him alive' — he'd said, and I could only pray that he still was.
"Don't move just yet, lad," the man directed in a low and kind voice. "You've lost a lot of blood, and your injuries are grave." Some of what he said made sense, but not all of it. I was injured? How? I fought to recall the last time I'd been awake, but the memories slipped through my fingers like oil.
"Father, I…" When I tried to move, a blinding pain tore through my back and my side. I couldn't stop a groan of raw agony from escaping me.
"Try not to speak," he said gently. "Save your strength." He lifted my wrist and checked my pulse then reached into a large satchel and pulled out a set of herbs that smelled familiar. My heart fell, hope shriveling as flowers beneath acidic rain. My father didn't speak this way. The man above me had a heavy city accent, and my father would never wear anything that would make him stand out in a crowd. Such was our way of life — helping humans where we could, yet avoiding them at all costs. Humans couldn't be trusted. Humans were treacherous as unstable ravines in a storm.
"Stop," I gasped when the man reached to pull aside the seams of my haori. My hand snapped up and grabbed at his wrist. Finally, his features sharpened. I saw a lined face with wide-set dark brown eyes and a large nose with a crook at its bridge. Bushed black eyebrows with hints of grey lifted high as the man checked the grip of my hand on him. His expression clouded with confusion.
"Your arm," he began. "How are you still able to move it…?" I struggled for a moment more before my hand fell back to my side. The walls shifted and spun, making my stomach churn in protest. When was the last time that I'd been this badly hurt? I couldn't recall. The man's expression softened, and he smoothed a calloused palm over my forehead. "Don't be afraid, lad," he said. "I'm not going to hurt you." He tugged on my haori, loosening my belt and peeling away the layers of ruined cloth. "I need to see how bad your chest wound is so that I can - " His words came to a grinding halt. He looked between my face and my chest. As I lay helpless, I knew the cause for his surprise. "How can this be… you're a…"
Woman — I filled in for him mentally when the words stoppered in his throat. Though my chest was tightly bound, I was sure that the bandages had loosened if not fallen free.
"But they said you were…"
They? Who was he referring to?
"Doctor Matsumoto," a voice spoke from a distance away. "What's your verdict? Will he live?" The man above me looked grave for a moment before pulling my haori closed with a sharp snap. Just as he finished adjusting my clothes, I saw a shadow approach.
"I'll need more time," the doctor replied. "And I'll need to work undisturbed."
"What's that supposed to mean?" another male voice intoned. "You're not going to say that we should leave him unguarded." Each syllable dripped with sarcasm.
"Not now, Souji," the shadow snapped. His voice was gruff and low, rumbling with irritation yet somehow pleasant all the same.
"These wounds are serious, Vice Commander," the doctor said.
"Then have Yamazaki help you."
"No," the doctor insisted quickly. Perhaps too quickly. I blinked again, and the shadow became a man's face. Familiar violet eyes triggered my most recent and lost memories. Flashes of city streets; the moon shining from beneath a heavy cover of clouds. Blood staining earth and stone and flesh. That's right. Some ronin wanted to rob me of my swords and chased me through the city when we encountered something horrible. I'd been fighting some sort of monsters when these men showed up and…and then what? I could barely remember the fight, and I certainly couldn't remember anything after it. Had they taken me somewhere? Where was I?
"You seem awfully determined to save him from our wrath, doc…" Souji pressed. "He's dead already as far as we're concerned."
"From what I understand, it isn't the Shinsengumi's aim to kill innocent civilians," Matsumoto countered. His shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. "Please. I need time and privacy now, Vice Commander." The violet-eyed man's brows furrowed in irritation, but he didn't resist. Turning away, he stepped out of my line of sight.
"Souji. It's you and Saito on patrol tonight." A pause, then — "If he tries to run, I'll gut him myself."
"There's no need for such harsh words," the doctor replied. "With these injuries, I doubt that he'll be able to move at all for at least several weeks."
"Hmm? Is that so?" Souji gibed. "At least we'll know who to blame if he escapes."
"That's enough," the Vice Commander barked. Suddenly, his voice wasn't pleasant at all. The sound of sandals sliding over loose stone echoed all around. The room fell silent after their retreating footsteps. When all had gone completely quiet, the doctor looked down at me.
"I don't know your reasons for hiding behind men's clothing," he frowned, "but I assume that you don't wish anyone to know your secret. I can't imagine why they brought you here or why they insist that I help you, but," he reached beside him, wrung water out of a small bit of cloth, and wiped the side of my face, "I can't let a child die like this. I promise to do all I can to see that you recover."
A child? It took me a moment to understand what he meant. Of course. To a human, I might look small and young. But as demons, time flowed differently for my father and I. By casual glance, no one would ever be able to tell that I was sixteen. I didn't enjoy being seen as a child, but in this case, it seemed that my appearance gave me a certain advantage. At the very least, this human had given me his loyalty, however temporary it might be. I wanted to question him about my situation, but it seemed that my body was at its limit yet again. I thought to close my eyes for just a moment, but as soon as I did, I couldn't open them again.
.
.
.
.
I don't know how much time passed. The darkness I wandered was deep and all-consuming. I would have stayed there longer if a distinct and very familiar sound hadn't snapped me back into awareness. The heavy curtains of my eyelids lifted, revealing an unfamiliar ceiling. Some distance away, I heard sharp, wet, and pained coughing. I couldn't remember where I was. The room around me looked alien, but this sensation, too, was somehow familiar. Father and I changed locations frequently during our travels, and when I was half asleep like this, I often failed to recall features of the places we stayed in, especially if I'd spent long hours making more doses of father's elixir.
More coughing. Stronger this time.
My body moved on its own after years of waking during the night. I rolled out of my futon, stumbling towards the noise. As I went, I did my best to straighten my yukata. It was far too large and scratchier than the one I normally wore. Binding my chest seemed like a hassle right now. Who was there to see me anyway? All I could think of was getting to my father and helping to ease his pain.
"I'm coming, father," I murmured. "I'm coming. Have you taken your medicine?" No answer. He must not have heard me. His cough didn't sound so terrible today. Had the elixir helped? I couldn't recall neither when I'd given him his last dose nor when he'd last suffered a fit from it. Somehow, lifting my arms to rub the weariness from my eyes was too exhausting. Everything, even walking, was a trial. Was I that tired? Perhaps I'd had too little sleep lately. With my body so uncooperative, I used my shoulder as a support, slipping along the wall of the room then out the sliding door and onto a wooden walkway. I followed the staggered coughing and gasping until I reached another sliding door. Strange. We usually slept close together in case this sort of thing happened in the middle of the night.
He must have moved away so he wouldn't wake me. Without hesitating for a moment, I opened the door and stepped into the room. In front of me lay a rather plain futon, the covers crumpled as though someone had left them in a hurry. In the corner of the room, I saw a figure hunched over, their broad shoulders shaking.
"Father, I'm here…" My words sounded sluggish, my tongue slow to form the syllables. In fact, I felt like I was partially paralyzed. Just what was wrong with me? Had I caught a cold? I raised a shaking hand to my cheeks, surprised to note that they were burning up. No matter. I could take care of a fever later. Right now, I needed to help my father.
I took a few more steps forward when one of my knees gave way. I stumbled, but regained my balance by grabbing onto my father's shoulders. I was about to ask him if he was in pain when something pushed me backwards. Already off kilter, I couldn't catch myself in time. My body dropped like a stone, the impact with the ground knocking the breath out of my lungs and making me bite my tongue. Pain assaulted me from all sides, slicing through my all rational thought. I saw stars and tasted blood.
The figure above me moved as quick as lightning, and I screamed when I realized that this was not my father at all. Something huge and warm clamped over my mouth. An enormous weight pinned me down at my thighs and shoulders. I flinched when something sharp rasped at the edge of my throat. Light glinted off the sheen of metal.
"What are you doing here?" the figure asked me. I blinked, and the image of my father swirled and changed. Brown eyes shifted to sharp green. Light brown strands of hair fell forward to frame a much younger face. I looked into cat-like narrowed eyes. The figure's lips curled over straight white teeth. I recognized the stinging at my neck as the edge of a sword a split second before it withdrew, the large hand on my mouth sliding down and taking its place. I knew that murderous jade glare. A name floated up from memory.
Souji.
The man that had nearly killed me in the alleyway.
"Weren't you told that if you ran, you would die?" he asked, his lips quirking into a grin that I was beginning to dread. "Not that I mind. I've been wanting to do this since that night anyway." His grip tightened on my throat. "So, what are you?"
My chest tightened. The doctor had said I shouldn't be able to move for weeks. I had no idea how long I'd been unconscious, but if these men saw how quickly my wounds healed, they would know I wasn't…normal. Knowledge of demons wasn't wide spread. My kin were considered to be a myth. But when they found one of us, the situation never ended well.
"I asked you a question," he growled. The light in his eyes wasn't hatred. It wasn't revulsion or even confusion. It was pure unsated blood lust. "Are you a rebel spy? Choshu? An Aizu sneak?" his smile widened as I struggled to breathe. "Aren't you a little young to be playing with swords in dark alleys? Or was that just a ploy to get you into the heart of Shinsengumi headquarters?"
"Shin...sengumi?" I sputtered. What was he talking about? Blackness crept at the edge of my vision. I squirmed under Souji's overwhelming weight, finally managing to get a leg and and an arm free. My leg was useless, but I used my arm to push against his shoulder. When I could, I found the pressure point that would cause his grip on my neck to falter and dug my thumb into it with all the strength I could muster. His smile disappeared, replaced by a look of promised death. I shuddered, trying to shuffle back from him as soon as I could, gasping to catch my breath.
His fingernails dug into my neck as I broke free of his hold. He grabbed at my ankle and dragged me back to him. Though he was strong and much larger, his size gave him little advantage in keeping me still. Despite his bold threats, it did seem like he was trying not to hurt me too badly in our tussle. Our struggle seemed to last forever, but all too soon, I was breathless and exhausted. My side and my back screamed in agony. I felt the skin there pop and strain, each snap sharp and painful. I'd forgotten about my injuries; I wasn't used to being injured for so long. If I wasn't healed yet, it meant the wounds were festering. It explained my fever.
"Stop squirming," Souji ground out through clenched teeth. His sword was gone. He needed both hands to have any hope of restraining me. He grabbed both of my wrists, lifted my upper body off the ground, then slammed it back down. Pain. Agony. I thought my skull would split open from the feeling of my back ripping apart. He opened his mouth to say something, no doubt to threaten me, then went utterly still. A beat. Two. Three. His emerald eyed had gone wide, a stupefied expression on his face. Another second passed, and I thought I saw a tinge of red flushing the very edges of his cheekbones and the tips of his ears. I followed his gaze down to where my yukata had been ripped open to reveal one side of my very naked and very unbound chest.
Honestly, I thought I might be too exhausted to be embarrassed. My wounds throbbed; no doubt they'd reopened and were bleeding. I should have been concerned about the fact that this man had just tried to throttle me. However, I'd never been naked in front of a man before, and suddenly I was very much aware of the fact that my yukata was hiked up to my waist and that one of this man's legs rested between my own. His sleeping robe had loosened, moonlight spreading like shimmering stars across his broad chiseled chest and abdomen. His thigh was rock hard against my leg; I flushed as I felt its heat, felt the hairs there brushing my skin. With his auburn hair mussed and his forehead beaded with the sweat from our tussle, he looked…startlingly beautiful.
I thought he'd toss me aside by now, but he just kept staring, and the more he stared, the more heat I felt rising up my neck, into my face, and up to my ears.
"Let me go," I demanded past the lump in my throat. My words broke whatever spell had frozen us both in place, and to my utmost surprise, he obliged. I scrambled away from him, rushing to readjust my clothes. When I looked back up, the shocked expression was gone from Souji's face. His lips were pursed and his eyes narrowed.
"If you think you're safe now, think again," he warned. The corners of his mouth quirked back up into a horrible bloodthirsty smile again. "I have no problem with killing a woman if she's a threat." He reached over and picked up his sword then stood, his own yukata still mussed and sliding off a part of his shoulder. In the span of a heart beat, the tip of his sword was at my neck again. "Get up. You better have a good explanation for all this. If you don't," he slid a finger across his neck. I had no doubt about what that gesture meant.
