Chapter Five: I'll Forgive You if You'll Just Come Back Home

A/N: I apologize that the "official title" differs from the dropdown. Length restrictions, you see. This chapter's songs are "Long, Long Time Ago" by Javier Navarrete (the lullaby from Pan's Labyrinth) and "Song for Bob" by Nick Cave. As a reminder, most of these songs can be found in the linked playlist from my profile.

He held his daughter's note gently, reading her unusual handwriting – the way it spiked across the page, aggressive and impatient – smiling at his imagining of her. It was short but that was largely because she skipped pleasantries, the hi how are you's of letter-writing. All is well, it said, then immediately contradicted with a tale of Kuno's rudeness, which ended abruptly with a report of debts paid and money remaining. He weighed the purse in his hand – about what he'd expected, if not a bit more. The courier bowed and left him, his signature on the receipt all he needed. The poor boy was terrified of Lixue – he had no idea what she said to him, but when he had come to the door, he was clutching the parcel with the money like it was life itself.

It was the end of the letter that made him curious. A little rock from the top rolled into my hand. Was this the reason she wasn't returning? He sighed, rubbing a palm over his face.

"Ah, my girl. You've been gone for five weeks and don't have the thought of home in your head…" Chao chided his absent daughter. It was probably harder on him than for her, since he'd never been gone for more than a few weeks and she had always been here, waiting for him at the house, ready for her papa to come home. But she… she'd told him once, about his… death. She seemed used to him being gone, but he doubted he'd be used to the empty feeling the house had without her anytime soon. Like they often did, the words she'd said to him against the rain-painted window rose to his mind. "Do not give me to a man I do not love, do not take away my freedom, and in return I will aid you in far better ways." Was she fulfilling her promise to him? Should he rely on her, his youthful and naïve daughter – no, not naïve, not anymore – to find and lay out the path for the father?

He tossed the leather pouch from hand to hand as he wandered, thinking on their unusual circumstances. He loved her very, very much, but… was it really alright for her to wander about on her own? Powerful or no, she always seemed to be on the edge of violence, waiting with those sudden and hard expressions for someone to trip and show their belly to her. If she should show those fangs to someone who could handle her, he might lose her. To say nothing on if she already had, and that was why she changed, a punishment she didn't remember in a place she didn't desire to be.

At first, he had wondered if he should fear her, the lotus-tigress who came and devoured the insides of his sweet daughter to inhabit her shell overnight. The wondering swiftly left – she obviously had nothing but affection for him, though it was tempered with caution and endless care, as though he might blow away. When they had spoken on the roof, he had seen deeper, beyond the rocky coast into the dark waters where her hurt swam. He didn't know her, but… he didn't need to fear her. He knew this instinctually. In fact, now he might know her more truly – 'his' Lixue had always been gentle, but it was a false security, as she had a flashfire temper that was both unpredictable and explosive. This one, at least, gave no illusion of tameness. It may be backwards, but her new reined-in aggression was safer than the smiling steel trap he knew. …Used to know. She's dead and gone now, old boy. Get used to it. He chided himself, catching the purse and tossing it again.

"Oh… what's this?..." he felt something unusual in the shape of the pouch, and opened it to investigate. A thin chain peeked out from between the coins, and he tugged on it, freeing a miniature snarling Bai Hu pendant from its metal grave, a note folded into a bow on its head. He opened it, the tiny script barely legible. A better guard.

He laughed.

oOxXxOo

"Mistress," Adisa wheedled, obviously delighting in her annoyance. "Are you sure we can't just stop to have one? The boat doesn't leave for two days, we've got plenty of time."

She sighed. He made her do that a lot. "You have an obsession with food, Adisa. Go get one if you want, but you'll just have to catch up to me when you're done."

"Mistress." His tone became serious, and she looked at him. "Food is something to be shared."

"So you keep saying," she monotonously replied. "But I've never had a problem eating alone."

"And the result is that you rarely eat at all." He pouted at her, touching her shoulder briefly and removing it again before she could glare at him.

They had passed through a tiny village just a short while ago, and he smelled something with fish in it cooking in an even tinier shop that doubled as a storehouse for the handful of people living nearby. She didn't know why it was such a big deal for him that she didn't eat; granted, he'd always bugged her a little about it, but never to this degree.

It was true for a lot of things about him now, actually. He was him… but to a larger degree. She wasn't sure if it was because she'd been away from him, or something else, but she couldn't make herself entirely at ease with him now. He'd been a companion for her, a confidante, and he still was… but whereas he had been a reliable something to lean on before, now he clutched onto her, needing her attention and approval in a way she'd never expected from him. When she got annoyed, he'd wilt, and when she praised him, he'd sparkle. It was a dependence she wasn't used to.

She blinked at him, looking up at him as he smiled at her, his gentleness shining through. She'd heard the whispers when they passed through, look how handsome he is, how kind a man he must be, look how he dotes on her. She doesn't appreciate him. Why can't I have a man like that instead of a potato for a husband. She'd noticed he was handsome, yes, like he'd always been. The rough-hewn, dependable handsome, the kind that didn't belong in finery or gardens but surrounded in steel plate and armor. He seemed so much taller now, but then again… she was younger than she used to be. He was… young, too, the smile lines around his eyes and mouth still barely begun, but he was still a man. If she'd been human, she'd be, what – 15, 16? Not yet through the woes of puberty, expected to grow into being a wife, as she'd surely be by now. Those who saw the two of them together likely believed her to belong to him. The thought made her look away from him. She'd never thought about being younger than him too hard before. It had just been, like the fact that winter comes after autumn and that water flows downstream. Why did he follow her? Didn't he have a family to look after? She didn't actually… even know if he had a family. She never asked. The thought churned.

"Adisa…" their footsteps crunched on the loose-packed road, treaded out by feet and not by stone.

"Yes, mistress?" came the swift response, his voice rumbling in his chest. Tell me what you need.

"Did you… leave anyone behind? When you came for me." She asked, running her fingers along her palm.

"No, not really." He murmured, catching her mood some. "Just some sisters, my ma and pa, a few dozen cousins. But we all wander. It's expected."

"A few dozen?" she repeated, unsure she heard correctly. She didn't have any cousins, let alone… several dozen! "How big is your family?"

He shrugged, stretching his arms above his head. "About average for hyena demons. Average for us, average for wolves, average for frogs."

So… a lot of family, then. She'd once found a pond filled with little baby toad demons, their minute tadpole bodies jerking along in the mud, their intestines showing through their skin on their bellies. Mouths open as some of them suffocated in the air. Not many of them live to adulthood.

He grinned, putting his arm around her shoulders. "Why do you ask? Coming to fancy me, hmm?" he teased her, and he laughed when she jerked away.

"Just wondering where to send my condolences when you end up being my dinner one day," she quipped at him. "I've always wondered what you taste like."

He leaned closer, his nose brushing against her hair when he spoke. "Don't tease me so, mistress. I'd gladly let you take a bite if you're hungry."

"Flirt." She punched him in the stomach, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to wind him.

"Oof." He laughed and backed off.

He had only been kidding, but something about the reminder that he was a man, and that he recognized her as a woman, shook her confidence a bit. He'd always been flirty, but it had never been so direct, and it had never felt so… sincere. Like he really would let her eat him if she were hungry, or perhaps that he didn't mean a gift of flesh for her stomach, but rather…

"I've decided to rest." She announced. He nodded wordlessly, sensing that she wasn't alright.

They sat together in the shade of the trees, Adisa chewing on a blade of grass absentmindedly, staring up at the clouds. She studied the shadows of the trees further away from the path, straining her ears for the sound of the ocean. They weren't far; they were following the coast a little ways before going back to the shore. Catch a boat to Japan. Neither of them knew exactly why, but both of them felt like there may be answers across the water. She'd been quizzing him on his Japanese, but he'd done terribly. Some things must be different beyond her Adisa's attitude. He was clumsy, and a little dense sometimes, the quick wit and grace she'd come to rely on completely absent. Thankfully, he'd still learned something of languages and the court in his life, but whatever had made her into a tame and dutiful daughter must have also changed his life. It bothered her.

A soft touch on her arm brought her out of her thoughts. Adisa lay in the grass next to her, looking up at her with baleful eyes.

"I'm sorry, mistress." He whispered to her. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

She sighed and put her hand on his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You're alright, Adisa. I'm not mad."

He let his breath out, like he'd been holding it. "Good. I… was afraid you'd stop wanting me around." He smiled and nodded to himself before closing his eyes, resting his hand in hers atop her arm peacefully and without presumption.

That was another thing on the list of not-hims. Being so open about his feelings, spouting out every time he felt happy or sad or hungry – especially hungry – instead of an ambivalent nudge in whatever direction he needed her to go in to solve the problem. It was different, seeing him so clearly, instead of the purposeful fog he'd kept so meticulously before.

"Oh yeah." She remembered that she'd tried to ask him a question before. "Adisa, how long were you dreaming about me before you found me?"

"A few weeks."

"How long exactly?" she pressed.

He opened his eyes a little to peer at her. "Eh…? Why do you want to know it all of a sudden?"

"I have a theory. Humor me."

"Well… let me think. It was… about… three and a half weeks from the first dream. Well, the first one that I remembered the next day." He murmured to her. "Imani was upset about the moon not being a perfect circle yet, so she had to wait to stir her love potions for a few more days. They sell out as quick as she makes them."

"…beyond everything I want to know about what you just said, I want to double check. Are you absolutely sure that it was three and a half weeks?" She pressed him, goosebumps trying to prickle their way to the top of her skin. It was too precise to be a coincidence.

"Yes, three weeks and three or four days exactly." He closed his eyes again. "Depending on if you count the day before my dream or the day after."

"No way." She breathed. It was just too, too coincidental.

He'd begun to dream about her the first day she'd woken up, when she'd cried in her sleep and couldn't stop staring at the morning glories outside her window, trying desperately to remember what she'd dreamed about.

She let go of his hand and stood. "Let's go. I can't sit still anymore."

"But you just… yes, mistress." He stood and dusted himself off. "Shall we?"

They walked in silence for most of the day that followed. He watched her sometimes, and she pretended not to notice. Sometimes it bothered her, but most times it didn't. His head was full of questions about her, the her he'd dreamed about, he told her so. Sometimes I don't think you're real, and I've gone mad, he said to her once. Just like everyone said I was.

He didn't look so tired anymore. He slept near her, a respectful distance away, but close enough that if she so much as kicked in her sleep he'd wake up to see if she was alright, if she hadn't run away.

It'd be sweet if she needed protecting. As it was… well. It'd be harder to not run away, at least for some peace until he found her again, but she stayed.

Tonight, she waited for him to fall asleep before quietly sitting up and looking at him in the dark. He'd complained some when she'd just laid down on the ground the first day, decided that since she'd stopped walking, it was now time for sleep. Now, he curled up in the shadow of a tree, hands curled up under his chin and his hair fluffed out like a sleepy squirrel. He'd adjusted quickly. He was very good at being human, complaining and softness, but under it she knew he was still made of something harder, his base ingredients pushing him beyond the mortal life. For all his human qualities, he was very much a demon, and sometimes it showed itself.

She gripped her ragged hanfu, the weeks of travel and constant use wearing it to threadbare in patches. She'd forgone the shoes a few days after Adisa joined her, wore her hair in the ponytail with a strap torn from their discarded bodies. She looked like the homeless waif she was. She didn't care. Something fiercer tore at her insides, tugged and ripped away strings from her heart, squeezing her too tight for breath. Pricked at her. Bit her. Dug its claws in to where she couldn't reach, hard enough that she couldn't shake it away.

She whispered to him, knowing he slept far too hard to hear any of it, but needing to say it to… somebody.

"I'm starting to remember the last minutes of my… last life. It was hot, and dark. Someone called for me… I think I had a mate, Adisa. That's the only explanation I have for the change in my scent. Who was my mate…? Who do I miss so much?" She sighed, her whispers barely audible over the contented breathing of her hyena. She stood, looking at the moon through the leaves. It was… nights like this… that made her hurt the deepest. She could forget during the day, but at night, when the moon dipped the world in silver and blue and silence… she yearned for something tangible and warm, a specific something she needed desperately and couldn't place. "Why didn't he find me like you did? Wouldn't I be important to him?"

She closed her eyes and listened to the leaves hush each other. "Maybe he's dead. Or maybe I didn't actually matter to him. Maybe he's young, or mortal, and hasn't been born yet, but I don't… I don't think that'd be it." She tried to chuckle, but it died as an idea that never reached her throat. She touched her neck, wondering. "It would have to be someone older, someone stronger, and… no, I don't think that's it at all."

She dropped her gaze back to her sleeping hyena. "Where is he? Why do I only remember his voice calling me? Those words, are they his too? What song? Why did this happen? What happened, Adisa? Why are you not you? Did I do it to you? Who…"

She gripped her teeth and clenched her fists. Peppering a defenseless and sleeping man with unanswerable questions did nothing but stir her more furiously. They were working on answers. She'd just have to deal with the new him, and rely on him less, despite his need for her to rely on him more. He simply wasn't as capable, or knowledgeable, as he once was. He didn't always understand. They were going to Japan, to see about the rumors of battles that amounted to no more than pissing contests to try and find a place for her father to learn his art. It was tumultuous there, that much was certain, and it was sure to only get worse. Furthermore, it… seemed right. Like she needed to go. She felt it, Adisa said he felt it, and regardless of if he lied she knew he'd accompany her.

She didn't sleep that night. Too many thoughts pricked her, too many sticky what-ifs clinging to her fingers and her mind and her feet, looking at her with bulbous and unblinking eyes.

The moon passed over her, walking as leisurely as it always did, and she watched it.

She waited for the sun to rise before shaking Adisa awake.

He grumbled but rose, rubbing his eyes, his mistress already disappearing between the shadows of the sleeping trees.

Shake and rattle it, does the answer drop freely? No, the fool broke it.

oOxXxOo

The trip across the sea was long and dry, surrounded by the glaring shine of sun on the water and salt crusting everything she touched. This time, there was no storm. There was no creature rising from the depth to crush and sink and devour. There was no desperate swimming in the endless nothingness, dying of thirst. There was no wish for the trees in the glade in her imaginary castle.

There was only the wind

and the water

and staring at the blank white line

where the ocean met the horizon.