Pain races through his body like his blade, a faint voice dark and demanding. He cannot make out what they say, he drifts off until more pain and the smell of iron directly to his nose bring him back to reality. A smack across the seller's face. "Awaken boy, awaken! Don't die here! I will not allow this, do you hear me?"
Atsumotchi...what happened? Only faintly does he remember things...fishes...flowers...Natsumi...himself. No matter how many times Atsumotchi slaps him, sleep gets him. The seller will be right back, he isn't wounded, will be right back...only a bit of sleep, to soothe the pain...
The medicine seller falls back unconscious, leaving Atsumotchi in worry and hopelessness. Can he even survive these fatal wounds? Energy surrounded him, he turned from a tanned man in a flicker of light to the pale, delicate him. Atsumotchi caught him in the fall, when he stumbled with weak knees, in this terrible condition. Liquid of his life spreads from wounds on his arms, his hands, and head. They flow down the lines of his eyes and nose until they drop off from his ears and soak into the sea blue Kimono. Atsumotchi rips his clothes apart until his bare chest shows off and binds his wounds as well as only possible. His wife won't come...the maid must be near somewhere. "Uba! Uba, come! Immediately!"
This man saved their lives. Protected them from their daughter and defeated her in the end. He couldn't allow his fragile life to slip between his fingers like sand when all of this is the fault of his coward actions. Had Atsumotchi only made Sugemi his wife...or acknowledged her and said the truth to Tori, so this could have been prevented. "Uba-"
"Here, I'm here!" She pants and holds her knees, closes her mouth in shock upon seeing the Medicine seller. "Is he-"
"No, get help as fast as possible! Immediately! A healer we need! And tell them the order comes from me and that they need to drop everything to appear! His life is bound to a thread! You must run all the way!" Without retort, she sprints off behind the castle, from the garden away.
He pets the head of the seller a few times. "Do you hear me, don't you dare die in front of my eyes." Atsumotchi glances to the side, the way he avoided since grabbing the medicine seller from her fangs. His daughter lies there, dead or unconscious he doesn't know. Curiosity and despair win the better of him, as he rips more of his clothes to bind better and holds him up to lean him against a nearby tree. Atsumotchi learned in war to position bleeding people up. If this is good, he doesn't quite know. In tensed posture and slow movements, he walks to Natsumi.
Peaceful features, as if nothing is wrong in the world. His vision blurs, drops of tears wet her cheek and take with them some black liquid he hasn't seen. Had he only treated her better...noticed this...had he been no coward...had he, had he, had he. A pitiful man could do nothing better but to mourn things that he already lost. Truly a whimper of nothing.
That a child would even turn into a Mononoke. That this is in the range of possibilities. It lets him fear the capabilities of human hearts. What if there are more Mononoke children? There are surely enough men like him to repeat all this. "I am sincerely sorry...maybe, with your real Mother, instead of the demon, you would have become the adventurous and intelligent seeker of truth that Sugemi portrayed inside of her favorite book she wrote. She even named you like her. Natsumi was the brave woman who slew evilness and looped through the holes of the world. Maybe you will do so in the next life."
Tori cradles her son in her hands, wiping in her tears. She can't even imagine all of it. This Natsumi kid, should she still be alive, Tori will suffocate her personally. "Nariaki, now you will get help. I hope it isn't too late." In the same moment, as the wind carries her words far away, Nariaki opens his eyes. Tori screams shortly in joy and presses the boy tight. "I'm so happy, my boy, so happy!"
"Mother? What happened? I was...there was a big bug and..."
"Do not worry my son, everything is alright. There are no bugs. You are safe. Soon help will arrive." She pushes the thoughts of the painful events away, the truth her husband revealed her that hits so deep. Tori truly believed that he loved her and thought of herself as a lucky woman to find this man. "Are you good? Your face, your face is so, so pale!"
"Nothing...I must be sick of what happened..."
You think so?
Tori shrieks and flinches back. "Mother?!" She shakes her head. That must just be her mind which plays games on her.
"Sick...Nariaki, you should find your father..."
"Where? And where are we, this is our garden! Why are we out here, why?"
"If I knew..." Such heavy eyes, Tori cannot hold them open. Everything must be safe; she hasn't heard anything for a while and Uba went further when Atsumotchi called her. The monster must be gone, dead, Natsumi must be in hell where she rightfully belongs to. Only a bit of sleep she needs, she'll be fine. "Nariaki, I need to rest...everything is alright."
"But Mother, your eyes!"
"What shall be?..." Far away from her, in a tongue, she doesn't understand. As if the world chokes her down right now.
"Mother, you're crying blood! You are so pale!" Tori grabs Nariaki's arm but her fingers are numb, she can't even feel the soft fabric. What is only happening? "Don't sleep, you need help, don't sleep!" It overruns her; drags her deep into slumber, the darkness of the world crashes over her like a wave. "Take care...Nariaki..."
"Mother!" A distinct boy's cry is the last she hears from the world.
Uba arrives with a bunch of men and a healer who Atsumotchi knows since ages, a man way older than himself. "Oh dear gods, your child seems in terrible condition-"
"Your patient is over there." He points at the medicine seller. "Did you not tell him anything, Uba-"
"Excuse me, I-" she pants and breaths heavily, barely can hold herself up on her legs. "I was so in a hurry; I couldn't find the breath to explain."
The old man rushes over without complaint, takes things out of his pack that Atsumotchi doesn't know of. Other men, guards that are usually in the front, stand there paralyzed from the sight of a child. "Sir, why would you let this wanderer get help, your daughter-"
"Dead, she's dead." Silence. A gasp from the back, the healer has his eyes wide open. "Concentrate! I don't want you to lose that boy's life! I'll whip you in public's eye otherwise!"
Atsumotchi stands up, wipes the last remnants of tears, and goes away. "Don't move her, don't touch her, leave her in that exact spot. Go over to the healer and assist him in everything. Anything he needs, get it in an instant. Get away from her." She is a Mononoke.
On his way to his wife, Uba shouts. "What-" Startled and shock by fear, he turns around. "What?!"
"Natsumi-" His eyes fix on the spot she lies on, only to find...nothing.
"The child is gone, how is that possible-"
"Is that the work of evil here?"
"What is only-"
"Quiet!" The men shut silent. "Healer do your job. No word will leave your mouth!"
"But-" One starts to protest but he shoots the worst glare possible. "None!" As fear shakes him like a storm, he sprints away to where his wife and his son are supposed to be. He can't hold back the tears. Whatever she dissolved into death or fled...he cannot do anything.
The men turn away. Old healer man fiddles with the wounds of the medicine seller. Her small sweet fingers wrap around the cold metal of the scale, closer and closer, tightly until they possibly are white, if not splattered by misfortune blood. Tree's bark presses into her skin, she doesn't dare any further look to them. It could betray her.
No harm...there was no harm intended for the seller's heart. For the seller's broken sympathy.
The men's attention flatters, away from her soul, leave her alone, and follow the command of her father. Why do they do that?
And why does she still live? The medicine seller shattered her soul with the sword. Or he didn't, seemingly. Natsumi takes a close look at the toy-like scale.
With a shake of her head, she bundles the last remaining energy and disappears into the darkness, protected by the whispering wind and the thick arms of the trees.