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Author's Notes: Oh…My…Goodness, I am sooooo sorry! Arghhhh. I kept you waiting for soooo long and then I end up giving you this... thing. I can't bring myself to call it a chapter. Okay, it obviously is a chapter –and the longest one at that– but it's NOT good. Okay, that's not exactly true. In ways, it's very good. The sensory detail in some parts is really done well. However, in other parts, I think it's not as well-written as it could have been. Also, there is not much action is this chapter. It's almost a filler I guess, for what's about to come.

Disclaimer: -Insert standard disclaiming phrase here-

Background Music: Lord of Ideals (Naruto Movie 2 OST)

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Cloaks
By Sarehptar
Chapter Eight-
Moon, Skin, and Housemates

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There are some things remarkably similar between you and I. Not blood, no, we could not get farther apart in that, but there are some things… We both suffered from nightmares. I can't begin to count the times we'd run across each other, wandering aimlessly by moonlight down the corridors. I'd learned quickly that ordering you back to bed had little effect. Instead, we'd fallen into the habit of talking away night hours; talking about the weather, the world, anything but the reasons we could not sleep. When you first came to the castle, these sleepless nights were frequent; the dark circles under your eyes frightened me. But as years passed, your nightmares faded, leaving me alone in the corridors—unlike you, whose fell dreams abated through death and care, my nightmares only became more numerous.

There were nightmares reliving the Master's death, there were nightmares where you died (usually by my own hand); later came nightmares of Rath: he killed me, he killed you, he killed himself… But no nightmare of the Master or of Rath has ever left me in the corridors as often as the dream I have had since the night I offered to make you strong.

"Master!" You raced, brown boots tossing up leaves and pine needles, down a dark, unending forest path. "Master!" You taunted, turning as you ran to smirk over your shoulder. I followed, pants of breath spiraling like clouds of mist into the frigid air.

"Garfakcy!" I reached out vainly, trying to catch you, to stop this pointless running.

"You'll never keep up like that Master!" You chuckled, lengthening the darkness between us with each step. "Master!" You teased again, now just out of my line of sight. I was suddenly overcome by a choking, crushing sense of terror that bit at my burning lungs. How could this sprightly child be you? What was missing? It was—

"My name! Why won't you use my name?" As if drawn by the question, you were suddenly there, looking up at me with empty, childish eyes.

"Oh, I couldn't say that! That'd be disrespectful to you Master. The disrespectful have to die." The disrespectful have to die… Words stolen straight out of my Master's mouth. How had you learned that? What made you believe those words? Where had this travesty of humility come from? I looked down at you, panting, appalled. I didn't want this humbleness…

"But Garfakcy, I don't want to be-" What did I not want to be? It came to me, not as a thought or even a coherent idea—it came as a broken, hazy picture: an image of the Master, scowling over me. "I don't want to be that man. I never want you and I to be like… He and I." I reached out to take a hold of you.

"Master," You tore free of my hold, "Don't be confused, we'll never change: I'll always be your servant." Cruel, cruel reassurance to my ears! I stared, horrified, as you smiled up at me—the same smile I had worn for him, my Master, the man I had so loved, the man who had never loved me. I wanted to rip that smile from your praise-eager face. Anything! I would have given anything to see your prideful sneer, your surprised gasp, your pleasant little grin—any emotion but the one you wore.

"I'll do anything you like Master." You promised, but as that heartfelt vow crossed your lips, you began to step away from me, fading quickly into the forest. And I knew, like some twisted joke, that your very promise, your very words were pulling us apart, dropping a veil of blackness between us.

I sat up in bed, tangled in my thick sheets, drenched in cold sweat. The darkness weighed oppressively and silently on me, and I threw back the covers and almost shouted to the candles, which roared a little too enthusiastically to life. The stone behind their graceful silver wall holders blackened from the heat, and pale burning wax began to roll in waves away from the miniature blazes. Even the light did not help to diffuse the strange and frightening air of the nightmare, and I knew that I needed to get out of the room. Leaving the candles shining, I staggered into the hall, almost tripping on the hem of my long night robe. The stillness of the corridor pressed down on me just like the veil in the dream, and I realized my hands were shaking.

Suddenly, a blaze of silver light caught the right side of my face: a wide open window. I rested my trembling elbows on the sill, allowing the cold of the stone to sink into my skin and calm the shaking. The balmy breeze brought me scents of rotting leaves and living creatures in the forest, and the gleam of the full orange moon on the horizon soothed away the lingers traces of the inexplicable fear that had come from the nightmare. It seemed that I almost might be able to forget what I'd imagined and fall asleep again when I heard a soft footfall behind me.

"Garfakcy." I spun about, and the laughter and empty smile of the dream came flying back into my mind. At that moment, I didn't want to see you—to risk seeing some trace of myself in you that might mold our actions into…

"What's wrong Mast-" I flinched horribly, and you didn't continue. "Is something wrong?" Something was wrong, but what words could I use to tell you so?

"I don't want to be…" I started to speak, and I realized that I'd chosen the same words as I had in the dream. I couldn't find the voice to continue. Silence wore on between us, and I could tell you were dying to ask what I didn't want to be. I couldn't even begin to explain to you what sort of horror came from that dream: it frightened me to think that I might become like my Master had been.

"Garfakcy… What's my name?" I barely said the words, and I knew they sounded absurd.

"What?"

"What's my name?" I pressed, and you fell silent for a moment, brow creased in comical confusion.

"K-Kharl." You stuttered other the word a bit, not used to using it alone, without a humble little addition.

"Never forget that." I turned back to the rising moon, half-afraid to hear your reply. "Whatever you add it, don't stop using my name." I didn't offer any explanation, but hoped that the nearly hidden desperation in my voice might enforce my point.

"I won't forget." You promised automatically, but I could tell you did not understand. How could you? How could anyone but me truly understand? That single word, 'Master'… That word had been a wall between my mentor and I, a dark veil we dyed with human blood. That wall—it kept me ever killing, ever fighting, ever begging for praise. That word… it had stolen my innocence and left me always hoping, always smiling, always dreaming that the love I had for him, my protector, my mentor, my Master, might be returned. To be called Master, and only Master, was to make me as he had been, to make you as I had been. Not for all my unreciprocated adoration of him would I ever consign you to that fate. Not for anything in this world would I let you live as I had lived—always loving, always unloved.

Though it would not tear away the veil that had fallen with your use of 'Master', if you never lost my name, the curtain would never be black—we would never be Master and Servant completely. You would never go unloved as I had. And… As long as we did not become as he and I had been, I could live with a twilight veil. Or, that's what I told myself then. But I, with my longing to be loved, to have a home, a family—that part of me was not satisfied with twilight. It was that part of me, that desire, which led to Rath's creation.

My mind is losing track—I'm dropping hours and days from my memory. If I were telling this to someone, I would have lost them already. All this talk of nightmares, and I hadn't thought of the half-day that occurred before them.

"Do you want to be strong Garfakcy?"

"Yes Master Kharl." To my dying day, today, I have not known what made you start that ridiculous humility. You never told me what went through your mind; what made you subconsciously, unknowingly, build a wall between us. Maybe it was the way I had spoken of my Master to you. Maybe it was… I'll never really know quite what thoughts started the "sama". Perhaps it would take a human to understand that.

"Yes Master Kharl." You murmured, closing your fingers over the white feather in your hand and glancing past me to the demon's bleeding corpse. I wanted to step between, to block your sight of what my claws had wrought, but I didn't move to stop you from looking. Maybe I secretly wanted to know what you would say. What, little human, would you think of me, who murdered my own kind? The silence cut more than the branches I had fought to reach you. Nothing. There were no words of scorn or fear from you. And when I looked into your eyes, searching for the grain, however hidden, of repulsion, I found… Gratitude. It troubled me that you would think nothing of the blood under your feet, or the blood on the claws of my hand near your shoulder. It bothered me, but I was relieved.

"Garfakcy," I muttered as we started walking back to the castle. "I asked you to stay inside."

"I-" Your face turned an unhealthy color –red– and you stopped looking at me, little form admonished. "I'm sorry Master Kharl!" You seemed to love the title already. "I was only… It was…" Where had I heard those stumbled excuses before? A memory in a memory now, my own childish voice crying stupid reasons for having lost the prey. "It was cold and I thought firewood…"

"It's all right." I smiled (such a strange thing, already a habit). It was your turn to look relieved. As we neared the castle, I realized something was odd. Something… Ah! The things I'd dropped! The music box had fallen open, and a soft, tinkling melody was drifting into the woods. Where had I heard that song before?

"Amazing Grace..." You mumbled under your breath.

"Amazing Grace," I repeated, recognizing the tune finally. Amazing Grace… The night Master had found me, in the human's village I'd been listening to that hymn from outside on the church steps. I shut the box, ending the song. What a sick coincidence.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch, like me…

I scooped up the black journal and pulled the heavy door shut behind us. My, I realized, it was rather chilly in here. Or maybe it was only the rips in my robe… But you shivered too, and determining the place to be too cold for either of us, a wave of my hand and well placed words brought the main hall fireplace blazing to life. I think you slapped your forehead with a palm, grumbling something about a 'fiasco'. Silly human. I went upstairs, amused by the way you trailed behind, as if attached to me by an invisible leash. I almost wanted to push you away, just to see if humans possessed some magical ability to tie themselves to others.

The second floor was just as cold, and I lit wall torches as I went. When I stopped at my door, you almost ran into my back.

"I think I'll get dressed now, though it's a little late in the day…" You nodded, but which statement you were agreeing with, I wasn't sure. I heard your footsteps scuffing down the hall as I shut my door. The afternoon sun poured in my window, making it unnecessary to light candles, even in the closet. It was cooler today, so I tugged out a thick red robe and a gold-colored overthrow. Ha, that outfit… One day, in a moment of undue sincerity, you'd told me (in an extremely somber voice) that red and gold simply did not match my lilac hair.

The wounds from running through the forest had already healed, leaving only a few dark spots on my night robe as proof of their ever existing. As I tossed the bloodied thing into the (growing) heap of clothing across the room, I heard you standing outside in the hall, tapping your foot impatiently on the stone floor. Fiddling with the gold sash, I wandered out to you. I wonder why I didn't realize: you weren't holding the feather anymore. All played out as it has, I suppose it doesn't matter. The ancient clock in the hall chimed three, and I knew that now was the time to start on my unspoken promise. I would have to find a way to give power to a human—a human, whose form could not perform magic or accept the energy of a youkai. How? Could I do something so unprecedented? Even if it had never been done before, there had to be something… And research meant—the library. Even if there was nothing to find there, it wouldn't hurt to look. Noting the irony, I wandered back down the stairs and toward the room I had just left, this time with you in tow.

As I pushed open the ornate glass doors, I heard your quickly stifled gasp. Yes, the Master's library was rather incredible, wasn't it? Though I'd never seen any other library, I knew the Master's collection was expansive—even after all my years of living in the castle, I hadn't been able to read all the books in the giant room. You were looking all around again, peering at the volumes like ancient treasure. A humbling thought took a hold of me: What if you could not read them, these leather-bound tomes? I couldn't remember a time when I had not been able to read; the thought disturbed me. But now, with such a difficult task before me, the subject of literacy would have to wait.

The library sections were marked in a scrawly hand –not the Master's– on paper that pre-dated many of the books they labeled. I swept the section on esoteric magic into my arms, and filing through the alphabet, found a dusty, dark corner marked 'humans'. Many of the books there had not been touched in decades- perhaps not since before the Master's Master, or even before that. Their rice-paper pages were yellowed and crumbling, some eaten through by moths. I was afraid to even touch them, but surprisingly, they held up fairly well.

I took up residence in a thick, aging armchair by the fireplace, dumped my books on the floor (some more gently than others) and snatched an enormous journal off the top of the stack. The smooth writing was dull, bled and barely legible, but I quickly got used to it—and I was amazed by what I found. You must have wandered away after a while, because I remember looking up from the book after hearing you shout "Look at this mess!" So, you'd found the things I'd tossed about earlier. I noted it quickly and fell back into the manuscript, unable to believe that something like that had been rotting in the library so many years.

The sky was a warm midnight blue when I stopped searching for a way to make you stronger. On that vein, I had gotten nowhere—there had been no magical way to solve our problem. But the trip to the library had not been useless, far from it. I had found a number of books whose content astounded me. In that dusty, unread humans section I had found demons just like me. There were tons of journals there, journals from all types of youkai, like only in their ability to feel. They felt emotion, just like I did, they loved—they loved! They lived by themselves, tortured by loneliness; they wondered the world, searching for reason behind their feeling… Some of them, when they could find no companionship with youkai, renounced their race and lived among humans! They disguised themselves, took human names—some took human mates! It was almost beyond me, those 'youkai' remembered only as words.

They felt as I felt, they took human company as I had… they left this world with only an unloved book for eulogy. I was not alone anymore then, but I realized I could not be one of them: content to leave this world unnoticed, lonely, living a lie… I was so relieved to know them, and so frightened to know I was like them. Were you and I part of something much larger, part of an inexplicable clashing of races in a world not suited for either of us? It terrified me that we might pass out of existence as those emotion-driven youkai and their human companions had: without changing anything in this world. I swore to myself as I left the chair to find you that I would not die unnoticed. If it meant my life, I would do something the world would never forget.

It was the only promise I ever kept, and I kept it well—they will never forget me.

It turned out you were in an armchair several rows away, breathing heavily in sleep. How very young and human you looked. I turned over the last few days in my mind, in awe of how fully and completely things had changed. I was now responsible for an innocent little human, responsible for a castle, and responsible for myself. Being responsible for you meant more than just letting you live—I had to provide for you like the demons in those books provided for their companions, and that meant finding you food. Following that logical process, finding food for a human meant buying food from humans… in the humans' village. Really, the thought didn't bother me as much as it should have: I was almost curious to see how much had changed since I'd last really looked about the place.

"Garfakcy." I called, soft enough not to startle you, but loud enough to rouse you from your comfy-looking sleep.

"Uh?" You looked up slowly, big emerald eyes cloudy and barely open. "What?"

"You've gone to sleep in the library. Your room is upstairs. You'd be more comfortable there, wouldn't you?" Your only answer was to sluggishly pull yourself off the chair. Half-asleep, you caught the cuff of my robe to hold yourself upright, and almost nodded off again. "Come on." You allowed yourself to be led, via the sleeve of my shirt, out of the room and upstairs. As you bid me another half-mumbled 'good night', I couldn't help but think that there were some things about humans one had to enjoy. Perhaps I wouldn't have smiled if I had known what was going to happen later that night. I certainly never expected to wake up frightened, to find you in the hall, or to act so ridiculously. With humans, I have come to realize that very little is certain.

The nightmare that had sent me out in the hall that night had driven out all thoughts of visiting the human village, but glancing rays of sunlight that burnt my sleep-deprived eyes brought the thought of breakfast to mind. I'd managed for the first, and nearly last time, to wake up before you. Missing sleep hadn't helped you at all, and I had no idea when you would awaken. The thought that you would wake up hungry prompted me to begin preparations for a journey to the humans' village. The fine robes I was used to probably wouldn't pass well in the town, particularly if I wanted to be ignored. A struggle ensued to reach the back of the closet, and about ten minutes later, I found something reasonable—a rather old, plain outfit I'd used when working with chemicals prone to dying fabric strange colors. Suitably dressed, I wandered down the stairs and into the rotunda room that had been my apprentice laboratory. Twin golden perches on the West Wall stood unoccupied, meaning the birds had gone off to hunt, probably because I hadn't fed them in days.

The place had been cleaned by the spell-servants right before the Master died, which meant the usual sea of clutter was all "properly" shelved. I hate having to search through all those closed cabinets! It took me less than half an hour to effectively destroy all trace of cleanliness in the room and find what I needed: a small silver mirror and a tiny bottle containing round bits of crystallized ash. Ash is one of this world's most amazing substances: it can be manipulated in hundreds of thousands of ways because, unlike almost all other things, it not only absorbs magic, it can also memorize the power put into it. A single thought can be enough to awaken an enchantment held within the dust. I remember drawing an ash-crystal from the jar and muttering to myself,

"A thought can set it off… It's too simple. Even a human could use it." Something clicked. Even a human, even Garfakcy! I might have forgotten all about my trip to the mortals' village if my stomach hadn't twinged painfully. When was the last time I'd eaten? Developing ash magic could wait, I decided, and crushed the little pill I'd pulled from the jar. As it began to run like sand through my fingers, I thought quickly, calling up an illusion spell stored inside it and focusing on hiding the things that made up my youkai appearance.

It took less than a minute, and putting the mirror to use, I inspected my "human" disguise. The toss-about lilac plume I normally called my hair had become thin and hung low, past my ears, which had lost their usual points. Brushing now white blonde bangs aside, I found my eyes had faded into a cloudy blue. The claws were gone from my fingers, and a quick look proved my fangs had shortened into human canine teeth. Even though it was only an illusion, the magic dampened my senses, making it hard to hear or smell as well as normal. That wouldn't be a problem in the humans' village of course, where mortal scent would have drowned out everything anyway, but in the forest, which could still be filled with territory-seeking youkai, I would have preferred to have my senses alert.

Nevertheless, I had to take what had been given. Wading (less than delicately) back to the door, I managed to escape into the hallway with only a few pieces of laboratory equipment clinging to my ankles. Here, out of the waist high mess, the mirror could be put to full use. It was a convincing disguise, wasn't it? With my shabby outfit, my less then radiant looks, and the almost my almost sad-looking human countenance, no one would care enough to throw a second glance my way. So I was ready, wasn't I? I had wandered into the main hall and nearly to the front door before I realized that you might awaken while I gone. It wouldn't be prudent of you to wake up and wander off into the woods in search of me. Ah! I'd leave you a note! I took me only a few minutes to snatch a paper and a quill from a desk in the library and quickly scribble out:

Garfakcy,
I've gone to the humans' village to buy food. I'll be back in a few hours. Please stay inside.
Kharl

There, that looked about right. Suddenly, it occurred to me: what if you couldn't read? I hadn't taken the time to ask last night. So what would happen if you woke up and found a paper with unintelligible scribbles all over it? You'd didn't have to read to understand pictures, did you?

I might have had beautiful handwriting, I may have been exceptional at hurried writing down alchemedic symbols, but I have never been an artist. It's safe to suppose that my quick drawings were not very well done. I'd come off looking like a blob with poofy, pointy hair, the humans' village looked like a double row of bread boxes, and the sun, which I'd taken pains with, looked like an innocent circle which had suddenly decided to grow menacing spikes. There! They weren't by any means beautiful, but they worked. Leaving the paper in plain sight, I hurried out the door.

Any observer would have marked me a crazy person had they watched me walk through the woods that day. Every tiny sound sent me into spasms of mad glancing, every movement made me look about wildly for potential enemies. How could humans live like this—not being able to tell what was really there? If I'd had my youkai senses, a demon stalking me wouldn't have been a bother at all: I'd have been able to tell instantly if it posed any threat. Being so impaired was horribly frustrating. I found myself walking faster and faster, and then almost running, determined to reach the humans' village where mortal scent and sound would overwhelm me and make useful the loss of my senses.

Despite my human countenance, the sprint to the city affected me as it normally would, meaning the hard run had no effect on my breathing at all. In fact, as I slowed before the fringes of the wood, the rapid beating of my heart was from excitement more than anything else. How many years had it been? How many generations of mortals had been buried in my absence? How much of the city would be the same murky back-alleys I had known in childhood? The answers, it seemed, were less forthcoming than I predicted. The houses nearest to the wood were exactly as I remembered human hovels: molding thatched roofs over thick and uneven walls of dry clay or mortar and brick. Nothing new, nothing that suggested change for the better or at all. The outskirt roads were still unpaved and rut uneven by the tracks of feet and wagons. The trees still pressed right in on the little communities.

It wasn't until I wandered nearer to the town's center that realized how much really had changed. Instead of the quaint buildings that had once been the thriving court square, I found garish white-washed monstrosities, done up with trim of every color and beset by wooden signs proclaiming what was being sold inside and out on the cobblestone street. Everywhere were these vibrant, obtrusive banners, and everywhere below them were crowded wooden booths, overflowing with wares and the humans who sold them. From all directions came the unending shouts of these "shopkeepers"—fighting to be heard above the bustle of humans, wagons, and the salespeople. "A deal! A deal here!" They shouted, appealing to the crushing masses of mortals that flooded the square and pressed against each other, politely (or less that politely) struggling to purchase what they needed.

Never before had I seen so many mortals in one place. There seemed to be no end to how many humans and vendors could be crushed into the small area. If I were discovered, did I have the strength to defeat them all? A quick shudder, easily suppressed. There were important matters to be dealt with, and watching the human crush from a distance was not one of them. Steeling myself, I wandered off the quiet dirt road and into the square. Instantly, I was swept up in the endlessly moving crowd and was borne along the wave of townspeople. There again was a difference: these humans were not the simple, happy, subsiding people I had watched as a child. The ever changing faces around me were not the rosy cheeks I expected; they were cold, gaunt, half-starved and desperate. The luster was gone from their many colored eyes. Were these half-dead creatures really human? They seemed nothing like you, so alive.

Here, carried along by the tumble of human movement, I could feel the texture of their fabric—not the fine cloth I had loved to run my hands across, but coarse and rough spun garments, as dull and lifeless as their wearers. Everywhere I looked these clothes flashed below my eyes, assaulting me with the scents of a melting pot of mortal flesh. Salt and the unique human smell of oil, blood flowing in their fragile veins… things I thought that, under disguise, I wouldn't have able to smell. It must have been the sheer closeness of their bodies that enabled the scents to reach my hindered nose. Yet, strong as they were, the smells of living human skin could not completely drown out the lacing undercurrents of filth, fear, and more apparent, death. The stark odor of rotting flesh drifted on the breaths of racing mortals pervading from dark corners and alleyways. I was not the only one smelling it, I realized. A young girl passed a dark crevice in the buildings and pressed a pale hand to her face, attempting to block the putrid scent from toying about her defenseless nostrils. This place was not the quiet, small, happy village I remembered—this was a city plagued by suffering, corruption, and decay.

But was that any business of mine? Having seen more than my fill, I stopped staring blankly at the human crowd and decided to attend to my chore. Food… Probably not that hard to find. Ah, a very correct assumption. Everywhere I turned there seemed to be another stand selling things that looked edible. I must admit, I went a bit mad. You see, I'd never really been shopping before, and the variety was almost overwhelming. I must have confused the first human vendor I approached—I'd starting picking things off the shelf, sniffing them to make sure they could be eaten, and then stuffing them into the crooks of my arms so I could grab more. First the red ones, which had a sharp, clean smell, then the orange ones, which smelled faintly like the red ones but sweeter and stronger. Then several different kinds of green ones… I even managed to find yellow kinds!

When I truly couldn't hold anything more, I dumped the huge pile onto the counter. The clerk eyed the mound, eyed my less than grand looking outfit and sighing, started to count out the "fruit". I may not really have known what I was buying, but I knew how to buy it. Years could not have changed the banking system too much. Easily, I knelt down and ran my hand across the cobblestone street, gathering up some dead leaves and several loose pebbles. A precise flick of the wrist and… Opening the hand I closed over the litter, I found exactly what I expected: heavy, shining gold coins.

"Oi!" The man behind the counter growled, "This is gonna be 7000 Dire!" Dire? It was an unknown word to me, but if childhood in a humans' village had taught me anything, it was that gold could buy anything. "Is that… Is that gold!" His voice was a surprisingly low hiss, like he wanted not to be heard.

"Yes," I smiled and dropped it into his hand, which had frozen palm up, expecting my "Dire".

"Real?" He snarled, murky brown eyes narrowing in suspicion. I nodded again. After all, they were perfectly real now… Judging from the tone of his voice, he would have taken it, even if I'd called it fake. The gold disappeared into a metal cashbox, and smiling, he bagged the fruit quickly. "Arigatou!" He shouted brightly as I wandered off. It made me wonder really, how much was gold worth to these humans?

After the silly fruit purchase came silly vegetable purchasing, and after the vegetables came meat, which I found to be only chains of complex Carbon molecules: molecules ridiculously easy to replicate in a laboratory. Just when I thought I was almost finished, I came across a small vendor selling packets with pictures of fruits and vegetables on them. When I got close enough, I realized they were packages of seeds. With my bags heavier and the seed salesman's pocket considerably fuller, I decided I was finally ready to go home. It seems fate was against my leaving the village however, because just as I started to push my way out of the square, a fancy white coach sped up the street and through the crowd, which parted like the Red Sea around it. Unused to whatever routine the humans and coach had already established, I was left standing in the path of the horses. I might have moved, I might have been afraid of being trampled, if I hadn't known exactly what would happen when those horses got close enough to me.

Yes, just as I imagined, the innocent animals shrieked and reared to stop a yard from me. Nickering, they tried desperately to back away. That's what happens, you see, when normal animals come in contact with youkai—they simply can't tolerate our presence. With the exception of birds, I've never been able to keep company with mortal animals. The driver on top of the carriage shouted some curse word and lashed at the shivering beasts. Realizing just how much of a scene I was making, I stepped off the street, making room for the coach to pass, which with the driver's loud encouragement, it did. As the white painted wood started past, the gold-gilded curtains flicked back, giving me a fleeting view of a beautiful but cruel looking man. His scowl and creased brow were easily forgotten, but his brilliant green eyes…

"'He's strikin' isn't 'e?" A friendly voice chimed from behind me. Almost caught off guard, I turned about and came face-to-face with a large, smiling female.

"Ah, yes." I muttered, plagued by a strange familiarity. His eyes…

"Tha's the Baron. 'e comes through 'ere everyday." She threw her dark plaited hair over a shoulder. We were in front of a fabric store I noticed, and when the women bustled behind the cashbox, I understood the shop belonged to her. "Wha' about you spooked 'is 'orses so?"

"Animals… generally dislike me."

"Wha's ta dislike about you? You look like a pretty li'l thing ta me." Unsure of what exactly she'd said, I tried to smile politely. "You're a foreign'r?" She peered at me curiously. "I've never seen you in 'his village before."

"I've been traveling," I lied easily, and ridiculously curious myself, started to look around.

"Wha's your name?" She asked, probably for the sake of the conversation. Now there was an answer I didn't have planned! What could I tell her?

"A-Avis." I stuttered out the first word that came to mind. Avis… the beginning of the chemical name for a caustic acid made from demon's blood.

"Avis… Tha's a nice name, I guess." She paused then smiled again. "So wha're you lookin' for taday?" I almost said 'nothing', but a sudden idea came to me instead.

"Do you have something heavy, to protect one's clothing while cleaning?" The woman broke out laughing.

"You mean 'n apron?"

"Of course." I nodded, though my conception of an apron couldn't be the same as hers. To me, an apron was a floor-length, wrist-length covering made of demon skin and bone, designed to protect flesh from corrosive chemicals.

'''ere's some o'er there." She pointed to a far corner. Yes, a human's "apron" was very different: it had no sleeves, and was certainly not made of demon skin. It took me a few minutes, but at last I found one about your size. It was rather bright, but I was sure you wouldn't mind.

"I'll buy this." I said as I brought it up to the counter.

"'hat's very cute! It's gonna be 3000 Dire."

"Will this work?" I offered her a handful of gold I'd made in the square. Her dark eyes widened more than a fraction, and she took the metal with trembling fingers.

"D' you hav' any idea 'ow much 'his is worth?"

"Not really," I smiled.

"You could buy my 'ole shop with 'his! You're definitely not from 'round 'ere!" Another innocent smile on my part… "Sure you wan' ta give me all 'his?"

"It's not worth much to me. If it can buy this entire shop, it must be very valuable. Why do you not use gold anymore here?"

"We 'aven't used gold fa' twelve years. Na' since 'his Baron. 'e's not a good man. 'e don't care a mite about the village- 'e's one a' those high-up folks, only cares about power. 'e stopped lettin' us use gold an' forced paper notes on us. Dire. I 'aven't seen a real coin fa' years—they all wen' inta 'is pocket. The village 'as been tryin', but things are fallin' apart. Can't you tell? 'ere's na enough food, na enough money or medicine. Things are getting' worse faster now. You pro'lly hear about the demon tha' attacked less than a week ago." I hadn't needed to hear about it… "I 'eard he was one a' tha pretty ones, an' so strong 'e didn't need ta touch anyone ta kill'em. 'e kidnapped a li'l thief boy, I 'eard. Pro'lly ta eat 'im!"

"Really?" I asked, hoping I was better at lying than I felt. Taking the bag off the counter, I added it to my other purchases and headed ("casually") toward the door.

"Be careful—travelin's dangerous when youkai are about!"

"I'll remember that." I almost laughed.

It took less than ten minutes to push my way back through the masses of humans, wander out of the square, and meander back down the dirt roads. At last, far from human sight and just within the first line of dark trees, I let the illusion drop, managing to hold in my joy at returning to my own form. I strolled slowly back toward home, restored youkai senses making the trip much less rushed than before.

The castle came into sight again finally, with the last sunlight of the day staining its dark towers a beautiful crimson-gold. Never before had it looked so delightfully inviting. It almost seemed like any happy, peaceful home, until I realized that someone was shouting inside the front doors. Someone…you! What if a demon had gotten in? What if humans had come? What if! I shoved open one the doors with my free hand and frantically looked around inside, searching for an enemy. I really shouldn't have worried (another emotion human contact has taught me): I did find demons in the main hall, but they certainly weren't enemies.

"Master Kharl!" You shouted, racing toward me. "I'm really sorry Master Kharl! I tried to get them out, but…" You looked a little worse for the wear: your hair was out of place, your clothes were rumpled about…

"It's all right Garfakcy. Left Bird and Right Bird live here too."

"Left Bird… and Right Bird…"

"They were a present from my Master. I hope they didn't frighten you."

"You could've warned me!" Your little human voice chided. Left Bird flapped angrily from his perch on the stairwell, and I started laughing. I tried my best to hold it in, but failed miserably. The look on your messy-haired face… "You think it's funny!"

"I'm not," another chuckle, "Laughing at you," chuckle, "It's just Left Bird… says I should have," laugh, "Warned him." I manage to get my giggling under control (barely), and searching for much needed air, said, "It's seems we were all surprised. Forgive me. Left Bird, Right Bird, this is Garfakcy. He's going to be staying here too." Right Bird bated irritably. "Yes, of course I know he's human!" You had fallen silent, and seemed completely thrown by our actions.

"Formal introductions for birds…" You mumbled under your breath, probably wondering if life with me could get any stranger (it did). A piece of paper fell off the mantel, letting badly drawn pictures glitter in the light of the fireplace's dying embers.

"Ah, my note. You got it then?"

"Yeah. What was with the pictures?"

"So you can read."

"Of course—yeah, I can read." I cringed a little at my unnecessary blob people.

"Ah, speaking of people, look what I brought!" I proudly held open the bags of food for your inspection. "I even bought little seeds so we don't have to go back to the village." You probably weren't paying any attention: half of you was buried in one of the large bags, checking every single purchase. "Oh! And I bought this for you." I grinned, and dug the apron out of one of the other bags. You looked up from the fruit and blinked at the cloth.

"The shopkeeper said it was 'very key-ooot!' What do you think?" I knew I must have been smiling expectantly.

"It's…uh…pink."

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Author's Notes: Okay… I know it was bad, and the ending was weird. But I figured it was long enough. So anyways, what'd ya think? I told ya, it had its moments.

Review Responses:
Aquajogger: Hee hee… This chapter was kinda… Ugh. I liked the parts at the beginning… But yeah. Thanks for all the super awesome compliments, and thanks for updating your stories! Oh, PLEASE help me by answering the question in bold up there… Thanks again!
Kage Ohkami: …More compliments! (swelling ego) Please don't compliment this chapter, I hate it. Okay… The beginning was okay, but everything else was evil! Argh… Anyways, thanks for the wonderful… "neatness". Please answer my question (in bold up there..)
qadsjlkahsdf: Umm… Interesting name ! Anyways, thanks for the nice compliments, I hope you'll help me out with my pressing question (the bold up there…)
Kigt: Heh heh… -sheepish laugh- I'm really sorry about that. I think I'll go write that in at the top of the first chapter… The entire story is written TO Garfakcy. Thanks for reviewing, and if you read this chapter, I hope you'll answer my puzzling question!

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