Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Status: Incomplete
She woke in the middle of the night when the world was silent and all she could hear was the rush of the wind outside and her sister's soft snores. She blinked in the darkness, for a moment feeling the haziness of the moment before the clarity of a clear mind. The hay was scratchy under the thin sheets of her futon, and she was warm under the downy blanket, and for a moment, all she wanted to do was close her eyes and snuggle back into the itchy bed and blankets and forget why she had jolted out of her bittersweet dreams.
Then, Hitomi blinked, and opened her mouth to greet it.
"Hello."
Green eyes creased in amusement. "You are bigger than I remembered. How curious, how you humans age."
She said nothing, riveted on the way the moon shone down on its sleek black pelt, its two-tails twitching back and forth, feline smile trapping her in her very skin.
It sat on the windowsill, a present from their neighbors for her parents' twentieth marriage-year, it's paws neatly tucked underneath its breast.
They watched each other, spirit and girl, and the world heightened; Hitomi could feel the way the wind battered the house. How it howled and whined for something unknown, how it begged for something to talk to. Child, come here, it seemed to tell her, and Hitomi wanted to move, but she was trapped. The spirit watched her, and she could not move.
For the first time, she felt a frisson of fear.
The echo of something deep ricocheted within her and sweat as icy and cold as the night trickled down her spine.
Finally, she spoke. "Do you need something I can offer you?"
The spirit smiled. "No. What would I need from a human such as yourself?"
Hitomi shrugged. "Shelter, perhaps? The night is cold, and young, and the frost covers the ground well enough to freeze through your toes."
It gave her a look, as if to say I am a spirit, and spirits do not feel the cold, not like humans do.
"You are still naïve." It told her. Its shifted on its paws, tails flicking back and forth, black silk fur glittering in the shuttered moonlight. Behind it, a tree groaned. "Strange for a human supposed to be as old as you."
She blinked, mouth pursing. "I am only eighteen."
It smiled at her, quiet and eerie. "In this life, yes."
Hitomi froze. She felt the way her breath caught in her throat. The way her hands clenched, and the knuckles whitened on her blanket. Her hair shifted, falling into her view as she looked at it from underneath her eyelashes. "So, you believe me."
The hope felt scarce, a terribly young, beating thing in her hands; as if any false movement could break it with the wrong twist of words.
"I have spent years looking for your truth. The kappa crowed to the councils about you; a silly, foolish human who harbored delusions about death." It told her, hopping down from its perch on the windowsill.
It slinked into the house, drawing itself up into a regal squat. Up close, she suddenly realized just how big it was; its head came to her chin, and its eyes were narrowed and green, and so very glittering. Its paws were the size of her fists, its tails the length of her arms.
"But," it mused, its voice so low and rumbling Hitomi could feel it thrumming inside her chest. "You have not been the only one. And the old ones remember well."
She sucked in a breath.
Her voice was shaky, naked desperation evident as she spoke. "There are others…like me?"
The spirit smiled; it wasn't quite as comforting as she hoped. "Of a sort. Some do not know of where they are like you do. They do not quite dare to believe. Others, once realizing where they have landed, take their own lives. They cannot deal with the knowledge looming over them. And some, like you, live on, dangerously all-knowing."
"Can I…Can I meet them?" She whispered, low and hopeful.
"No." It shook its head, and her chest cracked in two, face falling, crushed. "They have lived long before you have, and long after. There are none like you now."
"How long after?" She asked, hands digging into the blanket. Her voice was hoarse, desperate, and for a moment, she sounded exactly like she had before. "Will I meet them?"
The spirit flicked its tail. "We spirits know the paths of fate, but we know not the intricacies. You may, or you may not. That is for you to discover. For you to stumble upon in all your human clumsiness."
She was quiet for a long, eternal moment. Her eyes were glassy, mouth open, and she seemed to hardly breathe. Outside, the wind howled, and the spirit continued to watch, tails flicking back and forth, and back and forth, before it interrupted the silence.
"You must follow. I have come to collect the debt owed."
"Debt owed?" Hitomi echoed, and she the frailty she had donned, shed like water in the summer sun.
It smiled, nasty and mean. "All these years of protection do not come free, child."
"But I did not ask for it." She told it, eyebrows furrowing.
The spirit shook its head, "It matters not. What's done is done. If you do not follow the laws, I will feast on others tonight."
Its eyes flickered over to the sleeping form of her sister, sprawled out across the futon like a starfish, and Hitomi's eyes hardened.
"I do not take well with threats, spirit." She answered, voice low and hard. "I will follow you, like you have demanded, although not of my own will."
"Will has nothing to do with it." The spirit snorted in scorn. Then it looked at her, head tilted, eyes narrowed. "I will wait for you, at the edge of the barley fields. There, you will find the onibi and you shall find me."
In a flash of thunder and howling wind, it disappeared, the feeling of its tails brushing against her cheek, echoing against her skin.
Hitomi rose and followed, not looking backwards.
…
The night was cold, the rain even colder.
She heard the squelch of the mud underneath her toes, and she shivered against the rising gale. Overhead, the winds howled their secrets, thunderous in their anger. Something bad had happened tonight. Something evil and destructive, as dangerous and wrathful as the hounds of Culann when spurred. The world of spirits raged, furious and bitter and her ears rang with their cries, tears spilling down her face.
They have done enough, the wind raged, and Hitomi bowed her head to shelter herself from the rage. The balance has been disrupted for too long.
Her overcoat was soaked, and she was frozen to the bone when she arrived at the field. Her teeth chattered, face bone-white, as she looked, eyes squinting in the early morning dusk. The sun had begun to peak over the horizon, but the clouds were bruised and black, the thunder not letting up.
"Where are you?" she dared to speak. Her voice was weak in the gale. "Where are you, spirit?"
Her eyes travelled the rice paddies, and barely fields, searching as far as she could. She thought, vaguely, as she stood chilled to the bone, that the spirit would laugh at her for her eyesight so weak, so very human.
And then, just as the storm heightened, and the sky flashed with lightning, she saw it in the far distance. The flickering of blue-green fire on the field, an eerie glow spreading around it. Next to it, she saw the flicker of two split tails.
She tugged the frozen, soaked overcoat closer to her frame, and walked forward. Her feet trudged through mud and saplings, muttering prayers for the sprigs she trampled, and promised that she would fix them when she could. Her head was bowed low, and the wind picked at her form as she tried to urge herself forward.
Hitomi stopped at the foot of the fire, blinking when the spirit twined itself around her legs.
She felt, for a moment, bitter jealousy that it looked as dry as it had before.
"Come." The spirit commanded, and Hitomi nodded.
They walked for what seemed like hours; through rain and hail and thundering worlds. The wind screamed its rage, and the earth groaned, its anger deep and vicious, cracked deep into its very soul. She felt so very, very small against this anger, this brutality, and more than once, she stumbled, her feet slipping in the hay and mud and underbrush, her coat feeling colder and colder to the bone, until it slid off her shoulders and she did not bother to pick it up again.
The spirit led her through the pathways in the wood, climbing over felled trees, travelling over rushing streams, waiting for her to follow the light of its onibi, its tails flicking impatiently, eyes glittering in frustration whenever she stumbled a little too long.
It urged her to walk faster and faster as the brush of dawn threatened to burst through the clouds.
And then, finally, it stopped in a clearing.
She shivered, teething clacking together so hard, she started to shake. Her dark locks were plastered to her face, face so pale, even her tan could not take away from her sunken cheeks.
"We are here." It spoke, breaking the spell of silence that had followed their journey.
The onibi winked out like a light, and darkness fell around them like a blanket.
"What do you want?" She chattered, and as it turned to look at her, she suddenly felt fear.
Its face was different in the darkness, and unfamiliarity of the forest; wilder, fiercer, more savage. It looked at her, and she felt its anger, deep and furious, like the breaking of a dam.
It pointed towards a tree with its tails, one that she had not seen before. It towered over the clearing, its branches spreading out like those of a messiah. It covered the rest of the trees, choking out their sunlight, and she shivered, afraid when she saw it. Its trunk was gnarled and broken, and dark sap trickled down it, and in the flashing of the storming, raging night, it looked eerily like light.
"This is a jubokko." The spirit spoke, and Hitomi began to tremble.
The tree groaned and creaked, and malevolence filled the air, choking her.
"W-What d-do you n-need me to d-do?" She managed to push out, even as she cursed herself for getting into these situations.
The spirit kept its eyes on the trunk, tails twitching. "There is a child, inside. It is dying, cold and alone."
It turned towards her. "You must save this child."
Hitomi faltered. "I-I wasn't a doctor—I don't know how."
"That is not one of my concerns." It shrugged, utterly unconcerned. It looked at her, intensely, eyes narrowed. "But know, if you do not, I shall feast on the girl you call sister, and call her forth to the Shinigami's stomach, where only the walls will know her screams."
Bitter, hot tears stung her nose. "I don't know how. I don't know how!"
It flicked its tail.
"Then learn." It hissed, and at the rush of wind, it flickered away.
Hitomi sobbed, and she felt the fear claw at her heart.
Then, she took a step towards the tree.
Her mind had never felt clearer.
onibi: demon fire
jubokko: yokai-spirit trees
Enjoy :)