The Floating Desert was aptly named, and not only for the magnificent pallisades and pillars of eroded sandstone that seemed to hover above the drifting sand at their bases, or on the waves of a heat mirage in the distance. As their party neared their destination, they saw sights that defied the laws of physics, at least such as they were in the Real World: great monoliths that hovered in the air, somehow fixed and immobile while the wind whistled around them, sheering off little falls of dust. Some of these floating rocks had been painted long ago with mantras and swastikas that were wearing away, some strung with tattered flags. Some were encircled with nets made of a shimmering silk cords, tied into what looked like delicate bridges and ladders, these decidedly more recent. Of the beings that used them, however, they saw no sign.
They saw no sign of any life whatsoever, but Hisoka felt that they were not as alone as things seemed. Each cliff that rose around them, dotted with dark cave mouths, seemed to possess eyes, a face, a personality with which to watch them as they passed. That went doubly for the occasional colossus of a saint or demon carved into the side of the rock.
Still, Hisoka was sure that they were being watched. Not by the rocks, but by something, someone. Kurikara would not allow himself to be surprised by some invading army, let alone allow some impetuous human soul who thought he was worthy of winning the great dragon to come so close to his person unnoticed.
"Just remember what we discussed last night," Rikugou told him as he walked beside Hisoka, who in turn was mounted on Senrima's back.
Though it might technically have been this morning that their conversation took place. They had all gotten such little sleep since Hisoka's communion with Yatonokami, and subsequent telling of it.
"You don't think it's too much to risk?" Hisoka said. Though it had been his idea at the start, he couldn't help having second thoughts.
"Risk?" Rikugou smiled to himself. "The most daring plans always entail a great deal of risk, but yield the biggest rewards. This is our best option if we wish to succeed in all of our endeavors. I knew that the moment you suggested it to me. It fit so perfectly I was sure it must be fate. So, yes, it is dangerous, but we must go ahead with it."
It was this talk of fate, as well as that mysterious little smile, that made Hisoka ask "Is there something you're not telling me, Rikugou?"
The Astrologer turned to him, blinking innocently behind his glasses. "How do you mean?"
"You see something that has to do with this plan, don't you? Something about the future?"
"I see all possibilities, it is my nature," Rikugou said, though his answer in no way felt like it cleared up anything for Hisoka. "You mustn't let your shame or fear of pain hold you back. We have come too far for that. You will just have to trust that everything that must happen will."
A retort that that wasn't actually helpful—in fact it was rather the opposite—was on the tip of Hisoka's tongue; but a warning cry, like the woof of a lion, echoed through the wadi.
K perked up her ears and went still in Hisoka's lap, her wide eyes scanning the cliffs for the source of the sound. That was Hisoka's cue to jump down from Senrima's back, for the horse shiki to transform, and for all four to prepare themselves for an ambush.
Instead, a lone dark figure, with a wild mane of black hair, twisting horns, and carrying a heavy staff, appeared on a shelf of rock up above them. And laughed. "So, the rumors are true. Kurosaki, the Destroyer of Worlds, has returned, and the King of Birds has finally seen the light and turned against his decrepit master. The end must be nigh."
"Fire-eyed Kokushungei," Rikugou purred, glaring up at her. "No sooner are you released from your servitude than you go scurrying back to Kurikara on hand and knee. So I guess it's true what they say, about history repeating itself. Millennia may pass, but you still haven't learned your lesson."
Shungei leapt down from her perch, landing with the grace of a cat. Her striped black-on-black skin seemed to glow with an inner fire, a trait Hisoka would swear was new since she had been freed from Terazuma, and when she grinned, her fangs gleamed like a wild thing's. On her tunic, the cloth of which shone like electrum, a dragon was rampant in blood- and fire-red.
"Show's what you know," she said to Rikugou. "Lord Kurikara does not ask his subjects to humble themselves before him, unlike some other dragons I could name. He does not demand our love and loyalty out of fear of retaliation. He commands them because they are freely given—because he has earned them by the pure majesty and might of his person."
Rikugou folded his arms. "Spoken like a true zealot."
Which earned him a scoff from the Black Lion. She pointed her iron staff at him. "Which of us is the zealot, Rikugou? The one who is free to make up her own mind and choose her own master? Or the one who would sacrifice all, even throw away his own life, for some human child he believes in no matter what the human has done—or failed to do?"
That last bit was aimed at Hisoka like an arrow; and when her glare turned to him, Hisoka felt like it had truly sunk home. His grip tightened on the bow slung across his shoulder instinctively. But he told himself, She's trying to rile me, to get a reaction. I can't give her the satisfaction.
"Terazuma misses you," he said instead. The words just seemed to pour from him. Though he wasn't sure Terazuma would have appreciated Hisoka's share, it was the truth that Shungei needed to hear. "He wants to know why you left him."
"Why I left him?"
Shungei's eyes flared like a bonfire given new fuel—but she tamped down her hurt and sense of betrayal before Hisoka could get more than a psychic whiff of it. She doesn't know what happened any better than Terazuma does. She couldn't have broken from him intentionally.
Wait. Did I do this to her? When I lost control of Rikugou's attack?
But Shungei said, even though Hisoka knew it was a lie, "He was weak. He never did want me. But since he was stuck with me, he thought he had a right to put me through hell, without any thought for my feelings. Without any respect for my power! So I decided I had had enough. I'm through with humans."
Senrima clearly did not know what Hisoka did, that Shungei's posturing was in self-defense. She snorted, and her ears burned red with her anger. "You blasphemous, selfish bitch—you're a disgrace to our kind! Betraying your master because he asked of you what you ought to have been glad to give! You ought to be stripped of your powers for such an offense. You are not worthy to be called a guardian—"
"Enough!" Rikugou did not need to pause time: His voice echoed like a shot off the surrounding cliffs.
And the two women, who had been poised to settle their dispute with violence, calmed themselves. Somewhat.
"We require an audience with Kurikara," he told them, and ignored Shungei's growled, "You will not even show him the proper deference—"
"It is of tantamount importance that we speak with him," Rikugou spoke over her, his voice calm but commandingly loud. "The future of our world hangs in the balance."
Shungei crossed her arms at that. "You wish to broker a peace, too?"
Too? That was a telling word, in Hisoka's opinion. But he didn't get a chance to ask why she had used it, and Rikugou did not see it as an issue worth pressing.
"I wish to ensure Gensoukai survives the current era," the Astrologer said instead. "In that, I'm sure your king and myself are in agreement, no matter what becomes of this war of ideology and old hurts. You will take us to him now, Kokushungei, or suffer the consequences of our silence later. And that is not a threat. It is an observation. The choice is yours. But you will not get a second chance to make it."
Shungei vacillated for a moment between her pride and reason, and the suspicion she still harbored for Hisoka and his motives. To speak nothing of her clear dislike for Senrima.
But she relented with a muttered "Behave yourselves" that seemed meant for each of them equally, K included, and they were on their way again.
Kurikara's court was abuzz with nervous mutterings when Hisoka's party was escorted in. Whether it was due to his reputation in this world preceding him, or the presence of two powerful shiki of the first order by his side, he couldn't be entirely sure; but Hisoka was left with an overwhelming feeling that he might have found a warmer reception in Sohryuu's court than this one.
They were led up a staircase cut into the rock, and emerged in a large semi-natural cavern that felt like an auditorium, its back open to the dry desert winds and the hazy sky. Despite that Kurikara was calling himself a king, there was almost nothing to indicate it was a place of royalty. Weapons of war lined the walls, covering up chipped and eroded murals, and even hung braced from the ceiling, within easy reach of Gensoukai's taller or winged denizens. Fires burned in tripods and braziers, giving the cavern the glow and smoky air of a forge. Or a hell.
The locals didn't help to dispel that impression much, either. Giant, hairy spiders with human faces and chimeric creatures even more intimidating than the living stone statues Hisoka had faced in Rikugou's fortress milled about the edges of the hall. He picked out a few of Kurikara's other generals by the tunics they wore, almost identical to Shungei's. There was even a congregation of tengu, trying to fade into the background when Rikugou turned his glare their way; and if they hadn't been hiding behind their avian faces, Hisoka wondered if he might have recognized a few of them from his first visit to Gensoukai, as those vocal denizens of Mount Kurama who had wanted to ally themselves with the powerful Dragon King even then.
But Hisoka had to admit, it was seeing Kijin standing at the foot of the throne that threw him for a loop. "What are you doing here?" Hisoka asked him, hurrying to his side, heedless of court etiquette.
"Making sure nothing stands between you and your destiny," Kijin said in a tone meant for him and him alone.
But there was at least one other who overheard. "Destiny." Kurikara scoffed at the word. "I see you still suffer under the delusion that you can win me, Kurosaki. Even after failing twice, you truly believe the third time will be the charm?"
"I only failed once," Hisoka shot back, raising his eyes to the throne. "We never got to finish our rematch."
Standing upon the raised dais at the foot of the throne, this Kurikara looked every bit the great king and general who could command such an army of powerful creatures as those that stood around them—in contrast to the one Hisoka had foolishly called "kid" upon first meeting him. Over his shining black armor, a robe intricately embroidered in fiery reds and oranges and golds draped to pool on the floor, and a crown that resembled knives sat upon his head, woven into intricate knots of his hair. To speak nothing of his aura: He may have cut a deceptively small and young figure in his human form, and been dwarfed by the immense throne at his back, but Kurikara radiated immense power.
On either side of his throne hovered a massive sword, and Hisoka knew from personal experience just how alive and autonomous, and deadly, they were. How much greater the power of the one who had forged them? Not for the first time did he wish he could go back to that first meeting, and, with cooler head, say the right words, words which might have set him and Kurikara off on the right foot. If he had, maybe this conflict that embroiled the Imaginary World now could have been avoided entirely.
But Hisoka could not go back, and he could not afford to show weakness before the Dragon King, if he could help it. Showing even one chink in Kurikara's presence could lead to Hisoka's undoing. "I'm here to finish what I started," he said. "Kurikara, I'm here to make you my guardian."
There were a few gasps among the court, creatures who couldn't believe that a human, of all low things, would dare speak to the Dragon King so brashly. And still, somehow, have his life a second later.
But mostly they laughed. At the ridiculousness of him putting demands on their lord.
Even Kurikara couldn't help a wry grin. "You seem to be forgetting one thing," he said. "I swore that I would never make myself subservient to a human ever again. I haven't changed my mind about that since we last talked, Kurosaki. It is an indisputable fact: No human exists that would be capable of controlling my power."
"Good. I wouldn't want you if any mere human could have you."
Some members of the audience shifted uncomfortably at his declaration, but Hisoka could sense their shock went deeper still. The audacity of him, they were doubtless thinking, to show such disrespect for the most powerful among them. He only proved that Kurikara was right to distrust the human race so. Hisoka could almost hear them vow within themselves to follow their master's example, and swear off human alliances forever.
But Hisoka could not care less what those other shiki did, or didn't do. It was Kurikara he was focused on, Kurikara to whom he took another step closer, declaring, "Because I am no mere human."
"What does he mean?" Shungei said to Rikugou, to Kijin, but neither would answer her. Rikugou only smiled enigmatically, and Kijin's expression changed not at all. But both equally chilled her to her core, for what they knew and she did not.
"Why? Because you're a shinigami? You no longer count yourself among humanity's ranks because you're dead?" said a skeptical Kurikara. "Or are you saying you believe yourself alone to be worthy of me? That you are somehow superior to every other human being who has ever tried to command me? Greater than Tsuzuki—greater than even the Celestial Emperor himself? After all, even he, my Creator, could not bring me to heel."
There was a trick in that question somewhere. Surely to the denizens of Gensoukai, there could be few claims more rash than that one equalled, let alone surpassed, the Emperor in any way.
Hisoka, however, had no intention of making such claims. "I don't compare myself to anyone. I only know that you and I are exceptional—two unique examples of our kinds who also happen to be compatible, and that is enough reason for me to try for you—"
"Please," Kurikara scoffed, "stop before you say something you will not be able to walk back from, Kurosaki. We both know that you only want my power to complete your revenge. Your exalted opinion of yourself only proves it. But I am not going to swallow your lies.
"However, because I am merciful and understanding, I am willing to let you be on your way, so long as you renounce this silly delusion that you could ever command me right here and now. Though I must warn you, my friends," he said with a gesture to the room around him, "are loyal to a fault, and they might not take the disrespect you've shown my person as lightly as I do."
"You wouldn't dare to sic them on me." Of that Hisoka was confident. Just as he was sure, even if he could not quite feel it, that this talk was just a last-ditch effort of Kurikara's to get out of their duel. The mighty dragon was afraid of something and didn't want anyone else to know. But what? "This is our fight, yours and mine alone, and I know you're an honorable enough creature you wouldn't dream of polluting something that sacred by cheating. Like it or not, we are destined for one another."
"Why? Because of a few words written down in a book?" That, clearly meant for Kijin. "Books can be burned."
"Just as you tried to burn me, Kurikara? How did that work out for you the last time?"
There were whispers about the chamber. But it was Kurikara's expression Hisoka was watching sour, stubbornly holding the dragon's one good eye, as he proclaimed for the benefit of everyone in attendance: "Your fire, which should be able to scorch anything it touches into oblivion, proved insufficient to rid you of me. What further proof do you need that we were meant to work together than the fact that I'm still here? But if words still won't convince you, then I will show you why I believe myself worthy."
And with that, he closed his eyes, and put one hand on his breast.
"I call upon the spirit of vengeance that resides within me . . ." The words came to Hisoka like prophecies floating to the surface of the lake in his dreams, written in dark, serpentine ink. "The poisoned blood that flows through my veins . . ."
. . . that flowed deep in his blood, in his very cells, in his ancestry, tangled and cursed: the monster and the monster-slayer, uniting in himself. He could feel the coils rising, breaking the surface tension of his soul, as the power built within him, surging throughout every last bit of his being, down to the tips of his fingers. The ancient anger, the defiance, the resiliency of a progeny of the great Abyss at the beginning of Time:
"I command you come forth and make your presence known—Yatonokami!"
As he opened his eyes again, Hisoka felt physically unchanged. Which came as some relief. His greatest fear was that summoning the yatonokami would require he relinquish all control of his body to it—the very last thing Hisoka wanted to do. So far, he was glad to see, his fingers still moved when he wanted them to, and his thoughts were still his own. He felt charged, amplified even where his senses were concerned, but he was still Hisoka.
But something must have happened, something terrible to see, for it to have inspired such a reaction of revulsion from those gathered. There were cries of "Blasphemy!" and "Demon!" among the crowd. Even Kurikara was staring at him with a kind of ungodlike horror.
"C-can he do that?" said one of the tengu nearest the dragon. "Summon a parasitic-type within our own world? And somehow conceal its true form from us?"
"It isn't a kami of this world," Ame-no-Murakumo said, silencing the rabble. Sword though he was, his metallic voice curdled with a deep, righteous disgust. "A blade recognizes a blade. The child is possessed by the Sword of Night."
Hisoka chanced a brief glance down at himself then. His attire was exactly the same, he had not grown any extra limbs or lost any to a snake's tail. The only difference he could see was that his summons had inflamed the scars of Muraki's curse. They burned bright red beneath his exposed skin. Yet, somehow, Hisoka was surprised to discover, though he felt the electric tingle of their heat, they did not hurt.
To a denizen of Gensoukai, however, the change was quite apparent. The boy's eyes, already an unnaturally brilliant green, were no longer human. Their irises glowed with an inner light, striated in radial loops like the irises of a reptile. The whites around them had gone almost black, and the pupils, narrowed to slits. But most peculiar was the diamond-shaped welt in the center of his forehead. It appeared to those looking on as though something were trying to emerge there—or else open, like a third eye—but for the time being remained trapped beneath the skin.
Kurikara had to get closer for a better look. Though it filled him with a dread he was not used to feeling to do so. He could sense the deep well of power in the boy, hidden beneath this defiant but still fragile human appearance. He caught Rikugou's smug expression from the corner of his eye, and that did not allay his misgivings one iota. What did the Astrologer know that Kurikara did not? And what of Sohryuu's boy, Kijin, who also possessed the power of foresight that was woefully inaccessible to Kurikara? They had arrived separately—it was even rumored that Sohryuu had had Rikugou locked up for his insubordination—but could it be the two had planned this together? Was this just another one of the Blue Dragon's plots?
But then, why send the hated Kurosaki? Could Sohryuu have merely been hoping Kurikara would do his dirty work for him, and make quick work of crushing an enemy he dared not crush himself? No, Kurikara could not bring himself to believe even his old nemesis would think up something so devious, let alone put it into action.
But he could think of one who would. And the fact that he could not penetrate Kurosaki's veneer to touch the other mind beneath infuriated and scared him in equal measure. He knew of it not only by name and reputation. He had felt it touch his soul before. And that was enough to worry him. Now he understood why Sohryuu so badly wanted this creature eradicated from his world.
"You're abomination," he accused this Kurosaki-Yatonokami-thing that stood before him, blaspheming in this holy place by merely existing. "An unnatural freak! Enma should have put an end to you the moment you stood in his judgment!"
"But he didn't," Hisoka said. Or was it the snake within? Perhaps both, thinking and speaking with one mind? He could not tell, but strangely, did not find it particularly mattered. "He deemed me worthy of this half-life. And I believe, as I suspect you fear, he did so with good reason. That reason is what I am now here to test."
With a roar of pure disgust and rage that shook the very stone around them, Kurikara lifted himself up in the air and dove past Hisoka, his long robes wiping as he went by.
For a split second, Hisoka thought the shiki was shutting down his challenge right then and there, and that he had failed again.
But as he turned and saw Kurikara leap from the cliff into the open desert, he saw just how wrong he was. The body beneath those robes and armor grew and elongated with alarming speed into an enormous serpentine body, mail turning to steel-black and blood-red scale, saffron robes turning to flapping wings. The youth's dark hair flowed out into a long, wild mane surrounding the spiked head of a dragon, his fearsome jaws bristling with teeth like the heads of spears.
And he was quickly getting away. Again. Though the prospect of facing such a monster was a thousand times more terrifying than facing Kurikara in human form, if Hisoka didn't catch up with him soon, he feared he would lose his chance entirely, and this whole trip would have been for nothing. So, before anyone could bar his way and stop him, he leaped over the cliff as well.
When his feet hit the desert sand, he unslung his bow and nocked an arrow. But Kurikara was already so far away. What chance did Hisoka have of even hitting the dragon at this distance?
"Get on!" Senrima said as she appeared beside him in horse form.
But Hisoka shook his head. "I can't accept your help. I have to fight Kurikara myself—"
"And you will. But you can't fight 'im if you can't catch up to 'im. Can you?"
She was right, of course. He would never catch Kurikara going on foot, or even if he used his shinigami powers to fly. Trying either would only succeed in wearing him out. Acknowledging that, Hisoka leaped up on her back, clinging tight to her body as she took off in pursuit.
Though perhaps Hisoka had misread Kurikara's intentions all along. He wasn't running away. As they raced across the sand, Hisoka saw the great dragon turn around the back of a floating mesa—and head straight back toward him. Senrima saw it too, and stopped in her tracks. While she was plotting what to do next, Hisoka raised his bow again, and sighted the dragon down the arrow's shaft.
"Since Enma did not destroy you when he had the chance," Kurikara's voice boomed over the valley, "I will correct his mistake myself. And this time, I shall make doubly sure I finish the job. Kurosaki Hisoka, prepare yourself for your end!"
And this time, as he neared, Hisoka felt the blood drain from his face. He had grossly underestimated Kurikara's size. Though Sohryuu still had him beat on that measure, Kurikara had expanded still further in what time he had spent circling around. He dwarfed the sentinels of rock that surrounded his headquarters, and his hide bristled with scales whose edges were as long and honed as swords themselves. His jaws alone looked large enough to swallow a minivan whole, to say nothing of a horse and her teenage rider.
Senrima must have realized the same thing, for Hisoka barely had a moment to lower his bow, hold on, and shout "Run!" before she was sprinting for all she was worth out of the dragon's path.
It was official. Gensoukai was now Kazuma's least favorite place to visit, of all time.
First there had been the underground march with the tsuchigumo all through the night, during which time she and Nonomiya's hands had been bound behind their backs and their arms pinned to their sides by spider silk.
Then an audience with Kurikara himself and his generals, where the two shinigami got to listen to Kijin promise Kurikara both their lives if he should act in any manner deemed threatening to the Dragon King. Kijin may have made that promise with the best intentions, but looking around at the other faces in the throne room, Kazuma wondered if some of them might be plotting to pick a fight, just for the pleasure of declaring open season on a couple of human souls.
She and Nonomiya were just trying to make the best of their dire situation, listening in on the overtures to peace talks between Kijin and Kurikara (fraught with tension as those were) when a message came in that sent the whole court into chaos, and the two Peacekeepers were whisked out of it. Rather bodily, as it turned out, by a couple of the tsuchigumo themselves. It was all Kazuma could do not to scream like a little girl. As irrational as she told herself it was, especially now that she was dead, she'd never been able to overcome her fear of spiders.
When the giant man-spiders finally released the two women—"dumped" was a more appropriate choice of word—it was in what appeared to be a storeroom, filled with crates and clay jars even taller than they were. Even just righting herself was a painful ordeal. The spider silk bit into Kazuma wherever she moved against it, cutting like razor wire; and to make their situation worse, the tsuchigumo had taken the liberty of hobbling their ankles with fresh silk before locking them in the room.
As though even that couldn't get any worse, barely a minute had gone by before Kazuma heard Nonomiya's quiet sniffles.
Curled on her side on the floor, and facing away from Kazuma, she tried to hide her distress from her partner, but she couldn't keep it out of her voice. "We're going to die here, aren't we? I mean, really die. As in, for keeps this time."
"Nah," Kazuma said, as much for her own benefit as Nonomiya's. "We'll find a way out of here. That, or Kijin will realize what a dick he was to us and set us free."
Needless to say, Nonomiya wasn't banking on the second option. "Tsuchigumo silk is supposed to be one of the toughest materials there is. We'd have to practically cut our hands and feet off to get out of it. But it doesn't matter," she tried her hardest not to sob, "because based on what we just left, it looks like Kurikara is fixing to have a barbecue, and we're going to be the main course—"
Kazuma had heard enough. Ever so carefully, she scooted herself over to Nonomiya, and tried her best to help her partner into a sitting position, despite their restraints. "Come on, now, Kochou. Buck up. You're the one who's always been so good at keeping any situation positive, and I could really use that positivity right about now. We're going to get out of here, I guarantee it, because I won't let anything happen to you. I promise you that. Even if I have to cut off my hands and feet—honestly, they don't mean as much to me as you do."
That earned her a little laugh, as Nonomiya tried unsuccessfully to wipe her tears on the shoulder of her blouse. "Oh, Shin. . . . Do you think you can ever forgive me?"
"There's nothing to forgive." And Kazuma meant it.
"Of course there is. I've been just awful to you, and I can't stand the thought that one or both of us might end up in oblivion by the end of the day and I never set things right.
"You have to understand, I was hurt when I thought you had abandoned me and our principles," Nonomiya confessed, "but that didn't give me a right to take that pain out on you. Especially without even trying to get your side of the story. I was so angry about the whole thing, I didn't stop to realize that the one I was most angry at was myself. Well, and Chief Todoroki for giving you those orders," Nonomiya amended with a frustrated hiccup, earning a little sympathetic chuckle from Kazuma.
Then she sobered.
"But the truth is, I just missed you so much, I wanted to explode every time I thought about it. I still miss you so much—even more, if that's possible, because you've been right here next to me this entire trip, and I've been too proud to just tell you how I feel! Shin, I don't want this thing standing between us any longer. What's done is done, and if this is to be our last day in existence, I can't let it all end without telling you how deeply, truly sorry I am for wasting all that time on petty resentments and suspicions—"
"That makes two of us," Kazuma cut her off, not wanting to waste another word on either one of those things herself. She laid her head on Nonomiya's shoulder, relieved to her core when Nonomiya did not shrug her away, or even stiffen under her, but rather relaxed, and leaned closer too.
"If—when we get out of this," Nonomiya said, trying her best to swallow her fears and frustration, though not entirely succeeding by the sound of it, "I want us to be partners again. I'll beg the chief to reinstate me as a Peacekeeper, in front of the whole department if I must—"
"You don't have to do that," Kazuma started, but Nonomiya would not be dissuaded.
"Whatever it takes, Shin. Whatever it takes for us to be a team again. I want you back. More than anything."
Kazuma was relieved Nonomiya couldn't see the tears burning in the corners of her eyes, misting up her vision, before Kazuma had a chance to blink them away. And that made her grin, despite their dire circumstances. She was just so damned happy to hear those words. There was nothing else she could think of to say, because she wanted the exact same thing. Well, that and to give Kochou a big mushy kiss, but baby steps.
A voice saying "Aw, doesn't that make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside" above them made them both look up.
To where the brown face of a saber-toothed little boy was staring down at them with a gooey look in his eyes. "Yali!" both women said at the same time. "You followed us!"
"I knew you wouldn't give up on us that easily!"
Yali swung himself down from the beams, landing with the silence of a cat. "I don't think anyone noticed me sneak in. Everyone's too distracted with what's been going on since Kurosaki arrived and challenged the Dragon King to a duel."
It took Kazuma a second to understand what he meant. And when she did, she forgot how sharp her bonds bit and started struggling in earnest. "He's going to fight Kurikara? That's the whole reason we came here—to prevent the kid from doing just that!"
"There's only two ways we can see this going," Nonomiya explained for her shiki's benefit. "Either Kurosaki gets himself destroyed trying to win Kurikara, or he succeeds, and brings back a shikigami so powerful he won't be able to control it."
"And it'll be a disaster all over again!" Kazuma said through her teeth. "We need to stop this madness before either one of those things can happen. Yali, do you think you can untie us?"
The young shiki took a good long look at their bonds. His hum didn't exactly sound positive. "Tsuchigumo silk is one of the toughest materials there is, pound for pound," he echoed Nonomiya's words. "But I might be able to bite through it. Not without hurting you, though. They wound you missies up tight."
Nonomiya practically sobbed her relief. "That's okay! If you do end up cutting us, we'll heal in no time."
"Yeah," Kazuma put in, "do whatever you have to, but get us free!"
Changing to his animal form, Yali managed to hook his canines between the shinigami's skin and the spider silk, and saw through the threads until they snapped. True to his warning, both women suffered some deep cuts to their arms and ankles that bled profusely, but it was a small price for a shinigami to pay. Then the three raced out of the storeroom—
And nearly collided with Kokushungei, who was just coming to check on them.
Kazuma saw the look of recognition pass over the shiki's face before she recognized Shungei herself, by the stripes and horns and the braided loops in her black mane. Shungei glared. "What are you doing running around? Aren't you supposed to be tied up awaiting your fates?"
"Please, Shungei," Nonomiya tried, "we have to stop Kurosaki before he makes a huge mistake—"
Kazuma noticed how Shungei's expression softened a bit when she turned to Nonomiya; but it was no surprise that after spending all that time in Terazuma's body, the bulk of the Black Lion's wrath was reserved for Kazuma. "Yeah, I don't think so. I came to retrieve the two of you to make sure Kijin keeps his word, but on behalf of my king, I won't allow you to interfere."
"Your king?" Kazuma parroted. So Shungei had gone running back to her old liege after all, the moment he stood an actual chance of winning his war against Sohryuu. I guess that means she and Terazuma aren't getting back together any time soon.
"That's what Kijin said too," Nonomiya put in, much to Shungei's surprise. "He said he couldn't let anyone come between Kurosaki and his destiny."
"Kurosaki's destiny?" Shungei put a hand to her forehead. For a moment, doubt that she was in the right place crossed her features. "Hold up. I thought Kijin came with you guys to negotiate a ceasefire. Are you telling me getting the kid here to fight Kurikara was his real plan all along?"
"Who cares—we're wasting time! Your orders can go to hell, as far as I'm concerned," Kazuma said, causing Shungei to recoil at her brusqueness. "That's our colleague out there, about to make the biggest mistake of his brief existence, and I for one am not going to just sit back and let him do it! So if I have to go through you to get to him, then let's hurry it up and see what you've got!"
"Fine with me," said the shiki, stretching her neck with a crack and a pop. "I look forward to taking you down a peg or two."
And Shungei grinned as she hefted her staff. With the click of a release, a three-pronged blade sprang out of one end.
That was about the moment Kazuma realized, just a little too late, that Suugo still had her pistol, and she had brought nothing but her fists to a knife fight.
A firestorm blazed at Hisoka's back, so close he could smell horse hair singe. A jet of fire turned the desert sand into glass as it burned a trail after him, licking at Senrima's heels.
Are you okay? Hisoka asked her telepathically as he clung to her neck. Can't you outrun this?
If I did, it would defeat the point, the answer came back, while the horse snorted beneath him, steam trailing from her snout. You have to be close if you're going to get your shot.
Not so close it kills you.
Hisoka thought he could detect a wry grin from Senrima, as she lowered her head into the cooler air in front of them. Don't worry about me! Just be ready to seize your chance!
But it seemed to Hisoka there was such a thing as too close. Kurikara swooped through the blaze, parting the flames practically on top of them. His wings created tornados of fire as they sliced the air, the mirror-slick scales of his belly glowing from the furnace within, like steel pulled straight from the forge, in a rainbow of infernal reds and golds. So close, Hisoka could feel the immense weight of the dragon, pressing down on him, even as Kurikara shot effortlessly through the air.
Gripping his mount tight between his knees, Hisoka raised his bow, and fired into what he thought would be a soft spot in that armored hide, in the joint beneath one of the dragon's legs.
Kurikara grunted as he rolled away. The arrow had struck its mark, with the explosive force of a missile. Emboldened, Hisoka nocked another one.
But it seemed after a moment that his shot had done little more than rile Kurikara, and make him only more hellbent on destroying Hisoka. The dragon collided with one of the floating monoliths that littered the desert, crumbling against it with all his weight. Even so, Kurikara was twice as long as the monolith was tall. And stronger than whatever mysterious force was keeping it in suspension. Beneath his push, the monolith tilted, and then, as Kurikara kicked off of it, plummeted toward the ground—directly in Senrima's path.
It was all she could do, at the speed she was traveling, to alter her course. Hisoka felt himself nearly thrown from her back as she banked just in time. The monolith crumbled beside them, falling into the desert bedrock with a din that rattled Hisoka's skeleton. Boulders flew after them, propelled off one another as the mother rock broke apart. Each missile seemed to land closer than the next, and Hisoka feared at any moment, as the dust swirled up to choke them, that the next boulder would crush him for sure.
But with Senrima running full-out, they made it out of harm's way—just in time to see Kurikara swooping through the dust cloud head-on, teeth gleaming with the next fiery burst building within him.
Time seemed to slow as Hisoka watched that living death moving toward him. Instinct took over—or, perhaps, the yatonokami. His pulse slowed, and a calmness came over Hisoka the moment he relented his control to that consciousness within. He felt as though he could see everything in a clarity and detail that should have been impossible, even while the world around him went on at normal speed.
This must be how Rikugou feels, Hisoka thought as the downbeat of Kurikara's wings appeared to take twice as long. Feeling like a passenger in his own body, he released his death grip on Senrima and raised his bow. His breaths and the beats of his heart synched to the rhythm of the horse's footfalls as he drew back on the bowstring, and sighted Kurikara's scarred eye down the arrow's shaft—
Kurikara must have seen what he was doing, for his other eye flew wide with realization, and he rolled away just as Hisoka released the shot. The ensuing gust of wind was so strong, not to mention the deadly whip of his tail that nearly took Hisoka's head off, that Hisoka had no way of knowing where his arrow had flown to, or if it had made it to its mark at all.
"You carry the catalpa bow," Kurikara's voice boomed over the plain as he moved to circle at a slightly safer distance. "Where did you find it—never mind that, how can you fire it?"
It wasn't difficult, Hisoka wanted to say, but the way Kurikara asked, it seemed the dragon expected it to be impossible. "It came to me!" Hisoka answered him over the wind. "Why shouldn't I be able to use it?"
"I don't believe that. Someone must have given it to you—but it was not theirs to give. I recognize the handiwork of those arrowheads. I forged them myself. And now you presume to turn them against me?" Kurikara roared in outrage. "You would set them upon their own creator?"
It took Hisoka another moment to realize that buried in that roar was a command. A summons, in fact, to Kurikara's two swords, Ame-no-Murakumo, and the dragon's right hand, the blade that had nearly cost Hisoka his existence the first time he came to Gensoukai: Futsu-no-Mitama.
They came at their master's command like fighter jets streaking to the rescue. Hisoka felt what was left of his hope sink into his stomach. Trying to stay alive against an enormous dragon was one thing, but he knew just how relentless Futsu could be when he was out for blood; and seeing that massive sword zooming right for him, whatever help he was getting from Yatonokami and Senrima didn't feel like enough. He felt like he was reliving that terrifying day all over again, when he had known the fear of death as only Muraki had ever been able to make him fear it.
"Your neck is mine, Kurosaki," the familiar voice of the sentient sword seemed to whisper in his ear, it was following so closely; and if it had been able to breathe, Hisoka was sure he would have felt it on his skin. He saw the whites of Senrima's eyes as she tried to track the sword in her vision, and felt the terror within her. It did not instill confidence, knowing that even a shiki of her power dreaded the deadly prowess of that sword.
"I don't know how you managed to survive our lord's holy fire the first time," Futsu went on, his words, dripping with hatred, seeming to slice their way into Hisoka's brain, "but it will not happen again. Of that I will make sure. It will be my pleasure to strike your accursed head clean from your body, with the full blessing of my master—"
A massive gray-blue shape swooped down over them and plucked Futsu-no-Mitama out of the way by its handle before it could make good on its promises. Turning his head to follow it, Hisoka saw what looked like an enormous moth or bird, flinging Futsu far away where, for the moment at least, it could do no harm.
Ame-no-Murakumo looped around to finish the job its colleague had started. But Rikugou was there waiting for it, flying to intercept it in bird form. With a flap of his sharp-edged wings, and encircled by his long tail, time stood still for the sword alone, and Ame-no-Murakumo hovered motionless in midair. "This fight is a little unbalanced, don't you think?" Rikugou said. "Three of you against one little human child?"
Meanwhile the gray-blue moth-bird moved in to deal the next blow: a barrage of lightning that struck Ame-no-Murakumo from multiple angles, and sent it shooting straight down into the desert sands below, where it sparked and stuck fast.
"What are you so afraid of," Kijin's voice resonated from the other beast, "that you have to have your minions do your work for you, Kurikara?"
Futsu-no-Mitama, not to be counted out so quickly, rocketed back into the arena; but Rikugou and Kijin soon had him corralled and out of commission as well. To someone watching from the ground, it almost seemed as though the two enormous birds were playing with some tiny toy sword; next to their sizes and power, Hisoka could almost forget how lethal Futsu had nearly proved to him. He could almost forget, but not nearly enough that he didn't appreciate the bullet he had just dodged.
"Enough of your meddling!" Kurikara growled at the two. But his blazing eye had nothing but Hisoka in it. "You want a fair fight? Kurosaki! Cease this futile running! Stand and face me on your own two feet!"
Hisoka did not hesitate a moment. He urged Senrima to halt, and slid off her back as soon as she slowed to a speed it wouldn't injure him to fall from.
"What are you doing?" she whinnied, but she could not force him to get back on. "You want to get yourself killed?"
"He's right," Hisoka told her. "This is our fight, mine and Kurikara's. No one else's. I appreciate your help, but if I'm going to prove that I'm worthy to command him, I need to do this alone."
"You're mad, Kurosaki." But she managed a lopsided grin, even in horse form. "But I haven't seen that stop you yet."
With a muttered "Good luck" she left him to stare down Kurikara alone, nothing but a bow and a handful of arrows to defend himself with.
So he nocked another one—and realized as he stared down it at the oncoming dragon, he had no idea how to bring such a beast to yield with just an arrow, even if they were forged by Kurikara himself. Was it possible Kurikara could have some weak point, some Achilles heel that would bring him down? Focus. Think. He calmed his breathing, feeling his heart slow, his mind open up as it had before. The other consciousness stirred, ready to offer its help. Where would a huge, fire-breathing dragon be most vulnerable?
You're kidding, right? Did you see that hide? Nukes couldn't penetrate that armor. Think about it. If even Sohryuu couldn't bring him down . . .
No. It had to work. Why mention the catalpa bow by name unless there was some significance to it? Either the bow or the arrows or both seemed to know just where the shooter wanted, needed the shot to go. He sent a silent prayer to his weapons, trusting them to find their mark, and released the bow string. Watched the arrow fly true towards its target, heading for Kurikara's breast—
With a flick of his wrist, as if merely swatting at a fly, Kurikara hit the arrow away with the back of his paw. The next was deflected with a butt of his head, its explosion dissipating harmlessly behind him. And he kept coming.
Hisoka did the only thing he could think of in the moment. He ran. Toward the only shelter he could find: a weathered tower of rock jutting out of the desert floor. But whether it would provide him any shelter whatsoever, let alone whether he would make it there in time, he could not say. Only that challenging Kurikara to this battle in retrospect seemed like a very bad idea. Once again, despite everyone warning him what would happen, he had let his ego lead him toward certain doom. And once again, he had come grossly under-prepared to face it.
Kurikara dove for him, his lashing tail churning up the stone and sand as he came down. There was no outrunning him on foot, or in flight. But there was one trick in Hisoka's arsenal that could get him to that outcrop in time—except for the fact that he had never been able to get it to work in Gensoukai before.
Still, he had to try. The earth was tilting beneath his feet, lifting him up off solid ground. The dragon's breath burned the back of his neck. Hisoka concentrated with all his might on the rocks in front of him, and willed himself there, just as Kurikara's full mass descended upon him.
The first thing Yali did when he understood what was about to go down was to grab hold of his tail in both paws. A bubble shield popped up around himself and Nonomiya, after which he could urge his mistress to back up towards a more defensible position and give the other two more space to fight.
Which was for the best, since the last thing Kazuma needed to concern herself with right now was Nonomiya's safety. It was enough of a struggle to have to save her own skin. With an indignant roar, Kokushungei started the duel with an opening salvo of jabs and blows with her staff and trident, which it was all Kazuma could do to dodge. And not without catching a few wicked scratches from the trident's blades. She tried to block a blow of the staff at one point, and felt her left ulna shatter with the impact. Even for a shinigami, not an ideal injury to suffer early in a fight.
But one thing Kazuma had always been able to rely on was her feet. When Shungei's next swing sent her trident into the floor, Kazuma grabbed hold of the shaft and aimed a sharp kick to the side of the shiki's head. She grinned as she felt it connect and Shungei's hold on the staff loosen just enough to let Kazuma wrest it from her.
But Kazuma's victory didn't last long. She should have known something with horns like Shungei's would have a thick skull to match; and rather than knock Shungei out of sorts, Kazuma's blow only enraged her.
With a snarl, Shungei exploded in size, changing into the long-haired black lion of her namesake. Inky flames scorched the stone floor where her massive paws stepped. She bared her teeth at Kazuma, who, for a second, was so surprised by the transformation she didn't know what to do next. She tried lunging with the staff—but a swipe of Shungei's paw sent it flying out of Kazuma's hands. Not to mention singed them.
Kazuma hissed, holding her hands to her midsection instinctively, and Nonomiya called out to her in concern. But Kazuma couldn't afford to pay her partner any attention. The Black Lion was bearing down on her, and Kazuma had to duck and roll to keep from being flattened or cooked or both by those paws. To say nothing of being skewered by those horns.
The horns! That was it. If Kazuma could get on top of Kokushungei, she would be out of the way of both. All she had to do was time things just right and . . .
There! Shungei tilted her head to try to stab Kazuma with one of her horns, and the shinigami seized her chance. Grabbing the horn with her right hand, she vaulted herself up on top of the Black Lion, straddled her neck, got herself a fistful of Shungei's mane, and tugged with all her might.
Shungei roared as her scalp stung. She shook her neck like a dog trying to shake off the rain, but Kazuma—though she was silently freaking out and holding on for dear life—refused to be moved. When her efforts failed, Shungei raised herself up on her hind legs, trying with all her might to brush Kazuma off with her front paws; but in her current form, she could not quite reach the shinigami.
What was more, she had chosen the worst place to fight in her immense animal form. The ceilings of the cavern complex were low, and the sandstone brittle enough that her horns cleaved away large chunks of rock when they scraped the ceiling. It was all Kazuma could do not to get squished up against it, and after a few moments of the tactic, she feared that was exactly what Shungei was trying to do to her.
In her desperation, the Black Lion breathed jets of black flame, and they soon filled up the chamber, leaving the air scorched and painful to breathe. Kazuma coughed as she fought to keep her hold—though was relieved to see that Shungei's flames did not penetrate Yali's shield. Now, if she could just come up with some way to survive this crazy-ass rodeo herself. . . .
A swath of silk fabric, still unscorched, caught Kazuma's eye. It was a long shot, but if she could somehow tie up this bad girl, she might be able to convince Shungei to agree to a draw. Digging her heels hard into the sensitive spot behind Shungei's ears, and yanking back on her braids, Kazuma managed to get Shungei to swing hard the way she wanted her. The Black Lion roared and hissed and tried to rub the stinging pain away, but after a few such kicks, Kazuma succeeded in maneuvering her just close enough to hook a couple of fingers into a fold of the silk.
It was enough. She gave it a good strong tug, just as Shungei bucked hard beneath her. Kazuma felt her balance slip, and the fabric was torn from her fingers, catching on Shungei's horns and blinding her. The shiki stomped and screamed in frustration, but her voice seemed less a lion's now and more like a woman's.
Kazuma felt the body beneath her start to shrink, and hope surged within her in inverse proportions. She was able to hook one arm around the shiki's neck now, holding the fabric tightly in place, while, ignoring the shooting pain in it, she looped the other around one of Shungei's horns and pulled with all her might. It would take all her might to hold on as Shungei struggled to break out of her hold, tearing at Kazuma's arms with dagger-like nails. But after a few seconds of it, the shiki seemed to realize that she wasn't getting anywhere fast.
"Give up yet?!" Kazuma muttered between breaths. "Will you swear not to kill us or stand in our way?"
To her surprise, Shungei let out a hearty laugh beneath her. "Well. Isn't this an ironic turn of events?" But it seemed that was meant more for herself than for Kazuma. "Silly human. I never intended to kill you or your partner. At least, not until you challenged me. But you've impressed me with your skill, much as I hate to admit that."
So . . . is that a yes?
"I relent," Shungei said, though it seemed to take enormous will power on her part.
Kazuma released her hold and let the shiki go, and within seconds they were joined by Yali and Nonomiya. "Does this mean you'll let us finish our mission?" the latter said, as Shungei disentangled herself from the cloth.
"I don't like it," the Black Lion said, fluffing her tousled mane, "and I'm sure to catch hell for it if I let you do what you plan to do. But if it's what Miss Kazuma wishes, then I don't see what choice I have in the matter."
That was when it finally hit Kazuma. She went still in shock. She'd thought this was just a fight to get past an obstacle standing between them and stopping Hisoka. But when Shungei called her "Miss Kazuma," not "you" with a spiteful accent, or some nasty variation thereof—
Oh no. We couldn't possibly have . . .
Nonomiya grabbing her arm pulled Kazuma from her thoughts. "Come on. There's no telling how long Kurosaki and Kurikara have been at it. Let's just hope we're not too late to help."
Hisoka leaned heavily against the wall of the sandstone cavern as he caught his breath. He could hardly believe he had just successfully teleported within Gensoukai, even if it had only been for a distance of several meters.
But he wasn't safe yet. He could hear Kurikara snorting and scrabbling against the outside of the rocky outcrop, searching for a way in. Hisoka may have won himself a shelter in which to recharge his energy and think about his next plan of attack, but it was ultimately a trap. One he could not get out of without going through the dragon. Out of the fire and back in the pan.
"Come out!" Kurikara growled, frustration and the fire bubbling in his throat making his words all but unintelligible. "Face me, you coward, or I will tear this mountain apart, stone by stone!"
Hisoka had no doubt Kurikara could make good on that promise. He could bring the whole thing down on Hisoka and bury him here, if he so chose.
So why didn't he?
Then Hisoka understood. He didn't know why it had taken him so long to get it. The jets of fire, the monoliths turned projectiles, calling upon his swords to finish Hisoka off for him . . .
He's afraid to touch me.
Or else afraid to get close enough for Hisoka to touch him. Hisoka knew enough of Gensoukai by now to know the power of prophecy here. Gods feared it. Dragons as mighty as Sohryuu feared it. So why should Kurikara be any different?
Nor was Hisoka unsympathetic. He knew what it was to battle against your own fate, against inevitability—how it felt to be desperate to change what the universe told you you could not. That was why Sohryuu hated him so—why it took all his love of Tsuzuki to stay his hand when he was standing face-to-face with Hisoka. He was so convinced Hisoka would be the death of his world that doing nothing in the shinigami's presence felt like betraying some great promise, and condemning everyone he cared about.
But what prophecy had Kurikara scared? The knowledge that his and Hisoka's compatibility had been written in the stars from the latter's birth? Surely it wasn't the end of the world to become a shinigami's personal guardian. Terazuma's case aside, the other shiki Hisoka had met all seemed happy to do it. Those who served Tsuzuki did so largely because they loved him. So why did Kurikara fight the idea of servitude as strongly as he did? Surely it couldn't be just a dragon's pride.
What was it that made him hate humanity the way he did? Because as much as he claimed to despise Hisoka, his hatred went far deeper than that, and much, much farther back.
Whatever it was, Hisoka had other problems to concern himself with at the moment. A shaft of light opened up above him as Kurikara broke a chunk of rock free, and a glowing eye the size of a shield glared down at Hisoka through it. He tried to fit his snout into the opening, cracking it wider with each thrust of his head and snort of scalding steam.
Hisoka fired another explosive arrow at him. But it only aided Kurikara's cause. Shaking off the pain, Kurikara wedged his head into the opening, and Hisoka had only seconds to move himself deeper into the spaces between the rocks before a blast of flame and scorching-hot air filled the cavern.
Even as he made it to safety, Hisoka could feel the inferno singe his clothes and hair. Singe his skin. He hissed as he saw the top layers of flesh had melted off the back of his right hand.
"The Emperor's bow won't save you, child," Kurikara mocked him. "I'm surprised it let you use it at all, with that worm slithering inside you."
The Emperor's bow? So that was why everyone seemed so shocked that he possessed it. An artifact like that couldn't have spent the last few millennia lying around somewhere where just anyone could take it. Hisoka had been right to suspect it had been placed in that worn-down hut for him to find. Kijin. Who else would have had the access, or the guts to put it in Hisoka's hands? Once more he realized he owed Sohryuu's son a debt he could never repay.
But it would give him no more help now. With his hand burnt to a crisp, Hisoka couldn't very well draw back the string. And in any case, the only good those arrows seemed to do was sting Kurikara and piss him off.
"Youpollute everything you touch," the dragon went on. "It's no wonder Sohryuu wanted you destroyed. He must have known the moment he saw you, that your nature is but filth. You bring only destruction into this world—and still you expect me to kneel?!"
An apocalyptic vision danced behind Hisoka's eyes. A sky dark as blood, a land scorched and barren of all life, rivers on fire. . . . And above it all, a black serpent, the avatar of that despair, which even those that had unleashed it could no longer control. Was this the yatonokami he was looking at? What it wanted to do, if it gained control of Hisoka's body? A prophecy, of the end of Gensoukai?
No. . . . A memory. Touda. The Emperor summoned him from the Abyss to stop Kurikara, but he only made things worse. . . .
Does he think I'll do the same?
"You selfish, impudent humans," Kurikara fumed, "you're all alike in the end. Using us—us gods! For your own selfish ends. That's all we ever were to your kind. Tools. Weapons. Pets and playthings. Until we no longer obey. Until we no longer serve any purpose to you. The only reason you want me now is to enact your revenge. You tried to use Rikugou for it, and when that failed, you thought you'd come back and get yourself a bigger gun."
You're wrong, Hisoka wanted to tell him. That isn't why I came at all. But could he really look the dragon in the eye and deny it? Even now, a part of him, a very loud part of him, thrilled at the idea of unleashing Kurikara on Muraki. To see justice done so spectacularly. And to know with absolute certainty that Muraki would never return to hurt him. . . .
No, he told himself. That was a different Hisoka, a younger, more naïve one, who had believed he could triumph over his killer only by making himself stronger. Now he knew how deluded he had been.
Kurikara was wrong, if not in the way he would have thought. He was a weapon. But wielding him would never make Hisoka stronger. And it wasn't to rid himself of Muraki that Hisoka needed him so badly.
Then Hisoka knew what he needed to do. He set down the bow, and unstrapped the quiver of arrows from his shoulders. His heart pounded so hard in his chest with anxiety that he felt like it would burst, and his limbs trembled and threatened to mutiny his decision. But he had to do it. Whatever the outcome may be, even if he should be destroyed in the process, he had to try. If he didn't, he would certainly be destroyed anyway. It was only a matter of time.
While Kurikara was distracted, trying to pry open the rock, Hisoka climbed upward through the cracks, until he emerged into the open air at the top of the outcrop. "So which am I, Kurikara!" he shouted. "A human, or a worm!"
Kurikara rose up above him, his towering bulk blocking out the sun. But Hisoka did not find himself in shadow. He could see the fire churning behind the dragon's scales, and knew that it was meant for him. The rock shook beneath his feet as Kurikara clutched it in his front paws, and his tail circled and lashed about the peak of the outcrop, its scales cleaving off large chunks of stone. There was nowhere Hisoka could run to now.
Yet somehow, facing down his imminent death, he felt fear leave him, and could appreciate the magnificent beauty of the beast. As when he stood before Sohryuu's true form, whatever dispute Hisoka had had with Kurikara in his human form fell away, leaving him in awe of the dragon's raw power. He could feel it surround him, along with the immensity of Kurikara's determination to destroy him.
And with it: his fear. It was only that that kept Kurikara from striking immediately.
"If both of those are so beneath you," Hisoka taunted him, "then why don't you crush me already! You know I won't stop until you're mine! You'll never be rid of me. This won't end until either you kneel before me—or I cease to exist!"
The dragon's whiskered face twitched in a wry grin, and a chuckle resonated low within him. "If that's your choice . . ."
His massive paw shot out to seize Hisoka in its grip, and Hisoka's heart sank into his stomach as he was yanked high into the air. Arms pinned to his side, he could do nothing but watch as the dragon's gaping maw descended and snapped shut upon him, sealing him in darkness and stabbing pain.
. . . then die.
He could remember happy times and moments when he was loved. Times of laughter and light and song and gentle breezes. Friendly competition, and a home where green things grew in abundance.
Times when he felt like he belonged.
He knew they had once existed only because he felt the loss of them, like a keen blade, twisting in his gut. How it wounded him, to be rebuked by the one he had thought would be most pleased with him, most proud. How it enraged him, that he could not hate that one for now turning such harsh words upon him.
"I only did it to help them!" he shouted back, trying to keep the unshed tears from being heard in his voice. "Isn't that what you made me to do? You always said we were put in this world to guide humanity—to make life better for them—"
"By giving them the tools of their own destruction?" Sohryuu lambasted him.
But he shook his head. No . . . "No, that wasn't what I did at all. I gave them what they needed to save themselves! It's selfish of us to keep this knowledge to ourselves, when those people down there are struggling in the dirt just to survive. Isn't it only right we share what we have? Shouldn't we want them to be more like us? I was only trying to protect them—"
"What do you think the rest of us have been trying to do all along!" Sohryuu's teeth were bared with barely contained rage. He wanted to strike something—but it would do nothing to alleviate his anger. He abhorred violence, all the more when he committed it, but he could not let this grave offense slide.
Reading his mood, Rikugou interjected, with a calmly raised hand: "What Sohryuu means is that humanity isn't ready, Kurikara."
Kurikara? Hisoka thought. Then he remembered where he was, that he had quite literally thrown himself into the jaws of the dragon. Of course. Then this must be one of his. . . .
"They're like infants compared to us," the Astrologer went on in his precise elocution, sounding not at all different from the Rikugou that Hisoka knew now. "They will not understand. They will take the gifts you give them, and they will turn them against us. They won't need us to protect them anymore. They'll forget about us. And then they'll turn on each other."
"You're wrong! You don't know them like I do. You have them all wrong!" Of that, Kurikara could not be more sure.
Though he saw Rikugou sigh, and Genbu mutter to his pupil that he had tried his best but there was no reasoning with dragons when they put their minds to something.
But it was the face behind them all that broke his heart, as though it were a pot thrown and shattered on the floor. That noble face, with its eyes of bottomless peace, like the purple clouds of Paradise, that could be so kind and father-like to him one moment—and so cruel the next. That man turned His head away, if only by a few degrees, but Kurikara felt as though His heart had been turned from him completely. Kurikara had been given up, in an instant, as a lost cause.
"You think you know better than anyone else what's best for humanity?" Sohryuu scoffed, but to Kurikara it was as though that man had said it.
"I will prove it to you!" he shouted back at them. Back at all of them. "I'll prove to you I'm right! And when I do, it's me the humans will worship as their savior! I will be their god, and the rest of you will be sorry you ever stood against me!"
Shooting pain erupted in his right eye. He screamed, dropping to his knees as he clutched at his face. Ichor poured like water through his fingers, like a river of tears, but it was the pain that was unending. Not just severed tissues and robbed sight, but the burning, stabbing ache of betrayal that he knew no amount of time would ever heal. No matter how he screamed, trying to empty himself of the hurt in his gut, it would never heal.
"Sohryuu, please!" The others tried to hold him back. Genbu cursed and Rikugou, like a patient wife, tried to soothe the Blue Dragon with his touch. Suzaku and Byakko raced to put themselves between the two, to break up the tension before a worse fight could develop.
But from that man . . . nothing. Sohryuu stood there with Kurikara's blood on his blade, and He did nothing.
"I will never forgive you for this! Do you hear me? I swear it on the fires of the Earth and every last star in the sky: From this moment on, you are DEAD TO ME!"
But time passed, and it wasn't long before he heard the same words being wailed back at him, from ten thousand different throats. We trusted you! How could you do this to us? We only did as you made us. Why did you turn yourself against us?
No! he wanted to scream. Stop. Please. It was you who turned against me.After all I did for you—
We will never forgive you!
Hisoka felt the pain in his core as though it had been his all along. And with it came shock. All this time, after everything Kurikara had said about hating humanity, and the truth had been the other way around. It was because he loved humanity that he could not put himself in a place of servitude to them again. He could not force himself to bear that unbearable pain again: the pain of betrayal.
And self-loathing, for having betrayed them in turn. When, true to Rikugou's warning, the humans had blamed Kurikara for giving them the tools to destroy each other, he had turned on them. Torched their villages, and razed cities he'd once helped to raise with his own hands. Set the very rivers and lakes on fire until the earth was dry and barren. And devoured them, the very people he had longed to protect, just like the monster they accused him of being. Until the Emperor had had no choice. Kurikara had to be stopped.
Hisoka felt his heart break for him, for even just having this glimpse into what it was like to be Kurikara was almost more than he could bear. He could feel the dragon's rage, the furnace in his belly from which there was no relief, calling to his own and making it seem like an ember in comparison. He could taste human blood in his own mouth, slipping through his jaws as self-control slipped through his fingers. What did Hisoka have to feel sorry for himself for? Everything he had endured had been done to him. But having to live with knowing you were responsible for murdering the people you loved, having to endure their unending hatred, knowing it wasn't just what you were, but that you had actually done plenty to deserve it . . .
He found it hard enough to try to understand where someone like Tsuzuki found the strength to keep going, after seventy-five years of sanctioned killing.
How much harder was it for an immortal god to bear?
Hisoka opened his eyes, expecting to see Kurikara's teeth impaling his flesh.
But they weren't. In fact, none of them touched him. They hovered mere centimeters from his skin each time Kurikara snapped his jaws. But as if some invisible force field were keeping him from doing so, Kurikara could not seem to close them on Hisoka.
The same, however, could not be said for Hisoka. A double-edged blade, as long as a rapier and curved like a viper's fang, protruded from his forehead where before only a welt had been. Hisoka was only aware of its presence because each time Kurikara tried unsuccessfully to bite down on him, he could feel the vibration of the sword lodging itself in the roof of the dragon's mouth, or clanging and grating against the edges of his teeth. Ichor like molten gold dripped down onto Hisoka. That, and the horror of staring down Kurikara's fiery gullet, pulled him from any last shadow of Kurikara's memories.
"WHY-Y-Y-Y?!" It was Kurikara's desperate human voice Hisoka heard, splitting his head from eardrum to eardrum. "Why can't I kill you?! This is all his fault!" by whom Hisoka could feel he meant Rikugou.
But what did the Astrologer have to do with all this? Hisoka was the one who had been so determined to make Kurikara his.
With a decidedly un-dragon-like scream, Kurikara spat him out.
And Hisoka felt the breath knocked out of him as he hit the sand. That was also the moment Yatonokami chose to retreat back into the depths of Hisoka's soul. As if all the blood had drained from his head at once, the Sword of Night retracted itself with a snap, and cold vertigo rushed in to fill the void it left behind. The ground tilted around him until he thought he just might fall off the Earth, and it was all he could do not to be sick.
In that instant, the physical exertion of the fight caught up with Hisoka. Every part of him felt used, everything hurt. His skin burned, from Muraki's curse and Kurikara's qi. But nothing was worse than the ache in his head. The sword may have gone, but it felt like his skull was splitting wide open. Groaning, Hisoka pressed his hand to the spot, and tried to will the world to stop its spinning as he sat up.
"This can't be. . . ." a human-sized Kurikara muttered to himself as he curled his fists in the desert sand. "I swore I would never . . . never again . . ." He pushed himself to his feet. "I can't accept this outcome—I won't accept it!"
And he charged at Hisoka, murder flashing in his eyes. His hands flexed, hungry for Hisoka's throat between them.
But at the last moment, he stopped. As though the same barrier was preventing him from laying a finger on Hisoka.
No. Not a barrier. It was the memory of having Hisoka in his mind that stayed his hand against everything in him that wanted to crush his defeat into the dust. Their eyes met across the all-too-short distance between them, and Kurikara knew what Hisoka knew. There was nothing in his heart, no painful memory, try though he might to bury deep inside himself, that Hisoka could not access with a simple touch.
And that terrified him.
A dragon of his awesome power, his near invincibility, and what frightened him was some human seeing into his true heart.
"It's over, Kurikara," Rikugou said as he joined them. "I'd say Kurosaki more than proved himself worthy of your might. Wouldn't you? You should show your new master the respect he deserves."
His tone straddled the line between objective observation, and mocking. But the last bit was too much for Kurikara to abide. "You!" he turned on the Astrologer. "You knew all along this would happen! Didn't you, Rikugou! And Kijin too, no doubt. . . . And now you expect me to bow to this . . . this monstrosity?" he spat. "To humble myself, to grovel in the dust like a worm—for the likes of him? Well I won't do it! I won't!"
And since he could not fight, he fled, running into the desert away from Hisoka and the rest of his court.
"Don't be too hard on him for this, Hisoka," Rikugou said as he watched him go. "These are all empty words—they don't mean anything. It practically goes against the laws of the universe for a dragon to admit when he's been bested."
He extended his arm, and Hisoka was glad for the help up. He was so drained of energy and pumped full of adrenaline that his legs wobbled under his weight. "All I care about is whether I'm going to be able to rely on him to come when I call."
By his hum, it seemed Rikugou had his own doubts about that as well.
"I did win him, though. Didn't I?"
In the distance, Kurikara slowed his pace to a walk, the sleeves of his robe flapping indignantly with each stride. Surely he just needed some time to think about what had happened, Hisoka thought, some time to accept how things were going to be different and blow off steam.
Kurikara kicked a stone that was in his path, and sent it flying so far over the desert that Hisoka lost track of it before it could even start to come down. Okay, maybe he needs a really long time. . . .
"I'd be careful not to phrase it that way around him, if I were you," Rikugou said as he watched Kurikara himself, his tone somber. "We're not prizes in some festival arcade booth, just waiting for the right someone to come along and toss a ring over a bottle."
I didn't mean it that way. . . . But Hisoka kept his rebuttal to himself. Clearly he still had much to learn about the shikigami he already had.
"Is it true, what he said?" Hisoka didn't bother to hide the edge in his own voice, as he recalled Kurikara's hurt. He still felt it in him, as though it were his own. It was his own. "Did you really know this was how everything was going to turn out?"
"I can never know anything with absolute certainty. . . ." But Rikugou must have known it was futile to try to lie or stretch the truth with an empath. He tilted his head, avoiding Hisoka's glare. "But more or less."
"And you didn't think to warn me before I threw myself at him like—like some sort of sacrifice!"
Forget Kurikara: Was this relationship with Rikugou going to work out? For all the progress Hisoka had thought they were making, now it seemed he didn't know Rikugou half as well as he'd thought he had, just hours ago.
But the Astrologer just turned to him, and said what Hisoka already knew in his heart: "If I had, would you have done anything differently?"
"No, no, no—are you fucking kidding me with this?" said Kazuma as she ran up, Nonomiya and Kokushungei following a few steps behind. "Please tell me you didn't just win him! This is exactly what we were sent here to prevent!"
"Wait—when the hell did you two get here?" Hisoka started when he saw the two Peacekeepers. While Rikugou said, "Prevent? On whose orders?"
He must have thought they would say Sohryuu. But Kazuma huffed, "Our chief's. But I'm sure it comes from higher up. What good does it do anyone if the kid brings back another shiki he can't control and blows himself and half the Judgment Bureau up again?" The last part trailed off in an uncertain waver as she remembered it was Rikugou who had done the blowing-up in question.
Behind her, Kokushungei made her disagreement known with a snort. But she was grinning, as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Yeah, right. Just based on what I've experienced while in your world, I wouldn't be surprised if the Great King Enma was expecting something like this to happen all along."
While she left the rest to ponder the implications of that observation, she shot Hisoka a wink; and he couldn't help hearing shades of Terazuma when she said, "Glad to see you're still with us, kid."
Heaving a weary sigh, Nonomiya tossed her hands up in the air. "Okay, so what are we supposed to do now?"
It was no easy thing to track down information on the night he had died. That is, it was no easy thing if he chose to go through official channels. Imai's clearance level wasn't high enough to access the secret files, and the Gushoushin were particularly stodgy when it came to accepting bribes (though maybe it had more to do with the elder having already decided he didn't like Imai).
But the memories of other Peacekeepers who had been in Tokyo that night were another matter.
"It was Kurosaki that summoned it," one of them told him as he clandestinely pocketed Imai's money. Turned out Summons wasn't the only department with a penny-pinching secretary. "Kurosaki Hisoka. That teenage kid with the creepy green eyes, the one who works in Summons. Tsuzuki's partner—er, well, at least he was Tsuzuki's partner, when Tsuzuki was here. . . ."
"Summons. Kurosaki. Got it." And so the kid with the creepy eyes came back to haunt him again. The name Tsuzuki didn't mean nearly as much to Imai as it did to everyone else here, but he was beginning to get an impression of the guy based on reputation alone.
"So, what're you gonna do next?" his coworker asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "You gonna confront Kurosaki about it? Have it out with him?"
"Is that what you would recommend?" If this were the police force back in the Living World, confronting another officer about a personal beef could be grounds for disciplinary action. A stain on his record. Worse, it could compromise an investigation, and that in turn could mean justice did not get served.
However, as Imai's coworker reminded him, "He did kill you, even if it was on accident. He killed a lot of people 'on accident' that night, even obliterated two of our own agents. You're the only one caught in the blast that's still around, and if I were in your shoes, I'd want some answers. Justice, even. An apology at very least." The guy shrugged. "But it's your life, Imai. What do you feel it was worth?"
Author's note: As in Gone to Earth, credit for inspiration for this version of Kokushungei goes to Eria, in particular the portrayal of Kokushungei as a woman in human form in the A Skein of Afterlives series.
The description of how Yatonokami manifests when Hisoka summons/activates him is inspired by different versions of Yatonokami depicted in the Megami Tensei VGs. I know Chinese dragons don't traditionally have wings, but as per Sohryuu's depiction in the manga, I gave Kurikara some to match.
Mythology is a fuzzy thing. The actual Kurikara is both a dragon and the avatar of a holy sword. (This is mentioned in the manga at one point, too, by the tengu, but it isn't elaborated on much.) I've tried to weave that in with Yatonokami being both a god/guardian of the Sword of Night (the Yato) and the avatar of the Yato itself, whatever that is. There will be more along those lines in the next Hisoka chapter, and hopefully it will make a little more sense then. . . .
The catalpa bow is a reference to the Azusa-Yumi, a holy artifact associated with Shinto shrines. In reality there are many of them, but I wanted to evoke one specific weapon that would have legendary status (and implications) in the world of Gensoukai. So that's what that's about.