Disclaimer: No one belongs to me! (fate is cruel)
A/N: AU POT story.
Thank you Cheeseburger of Doom, Jamoozalee, Ikyutakei, Arielle5, tezuka eiri, Suke-san, featherlight and LexaRose! You've all been so kind, I am very grateful for your support! (gives deep bow of appreciation)
Long chapter, and maybe not very action oriented. But this is necessary for the development of the story, please stick with me! (kowtows)
Chapter II: Shirakawa
...........................................
Shirakawa Village, Present Day
He kneeled there, unmoving; a solitary figure amidst the
swirling snow as the arctic wind whipped relentlessly at him. The biting cold
had stung his unprotected face initially, but the throbbing pain had segued
into blissful numbness. He reached out then, his gloved fingers slowly, almost
lovingly, tracing the surface of the ice-encrusted stone marker. There was
nothing distinctive about the stone marker: perhaps a foot high or so, its
smoky-grey surface smoothened by the passage of time.
"Ohisashiburidesu ne," Fuji
whispered softly, "Aya nee-san."
......................
Shirakawa Village, 1852
"Soujirou, what are you doing?"
"Eh?" The eight year boy jumped guiltily at the sound of her voice.
Quickly hiding his hands behind his back, he turned to greet her with
infectious cheer, "Ohayou, Aya-nee-san!"
Ayame found herself smiling back before she caught herself abruptly.
Narrowing her eyes in consternation, she repeated, "Soujirou Harumasa, what are
you doing? And don't try to distract me with your smile again!"
"Eh, what was I doing?" Opening his azure blue eyes and giving her
a look of affected innocence, Soujirou smiled beguilingly, "Nothing,
Aya-nee-san. I was just standing around admiring the autumn scenery."
"Soujirou." Ayame crossed her arms in front of her as she waited for his
confession.
"Really! I was just quietly admiring the scenery," Drawing his delicate
brows in mild reproach, Soujirou continued, "then you gave me a huge shock when
you shouted my name."
Ayame remained silent, fingers tapping as she stared pointedly at him.
Giving a small sigh of defeat, Soujirou extended his hand.
"Grains? What are you doing with grains?" Ayame asked in bafflement;
then she frowned with worry, "Soujirou, you better be careful. If you get
caught, you'll be beaten up again."
"Daijoubu, this is my own share. I have been cooking less of my
allocated grains and saving them up. Here, let me show you something." Gently
tugging at Ayame's hand, Soujirou led her to the side of the tree that he had
been leaning against and reached into a hole in the trunk.
"Soujirou, what..."The words died upon her lips when she saw what was
cradled in his palms.
It was a bird, barely a few weeks old, with feathers the color of
sun-ripened wheat; it chirped merrily as it fluttered its wings.
Soujirou smiled fondly as he gently stroked the soft, downy feathers, "I
found it on the ground with its left wing broken. It must have gotten injured
and separated from its family. I made a splint for its wing; it's getting
stronger now. In a couple of weeks or so, before winter arrives, it should be
able to fly again and look for its family."
Ayame shook her head, "Soujirou, you are a bag of bones, and here you
are scrimping off your meals. If you were found out, they'll punish you for
keeping an animal around and even use it an excuse to cut the meager amount of
food that you have now," Giving a small sigh, she wagged a finger in mock
admonishment, "You've always cared more for others than yourself. It's time
you..." Her words were interrupted by a fit of coughing.
Looking away from the worry-darkened gaze, Ayame prevaricated, "I am fine, I'm just coughing more than usual because of the recent changes in weather. I'll just take more herbs and I'll be back to normal in no time."
"You've been coughing for months, Aya-nee," Soujirou's voice was quiet, "I've seen the blood on your pillow..." His voice became insistent, "You have to see a doctor. I can come along with you if you..."
"Iie, I don't want to go outside..." Unconsciously, her fingers covered her cheeks. Her lips quivered as she continued, "I can't..."
"Aya-nee-san, your face...it doesn't matter. If anyone dare says anything, I'll...I'll hit them!" Soujirou's voice was fierce, his fingers curled into a fist.
"It's not what they say...it's...it's the look in their eyes," The revulsion; the scorn. "I really don't want to frighten the little children..." I don't want them to scream and run away from me.
"Aya-nee, your sickness..." Soujirou pleaded, "You have to see a doctor, otherwise it'll only worsen! Your symptoms are just like Miyoshi's otou-san's!"
"Please, Soujirou," Her face was white, her breathing harsh; but her eyes were set, "please don't talk about this anymore. I will not be going."
"Aya-nee," Soujirou felt a hollow despair welling up his throat as he buried his face against the folds of her kimono, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. You are going to leave me.
"Daijoubu, Soujirou. Everything's going to be alright. Believe me." Ayame smiled as she stroked the little boy's head soothingly.
Lowering his lids to once more conceal the blue of his eyes, Soujirou nodded even as he tightened his grip on the older girl.
......................
Soujirou lay on the ground, one arm cushioning his the back of his head, staring at the cloudy sky. It was one of those rare days when he could actually take a breather; invariably, he would come to the same spot: a sanctuary to get a moment's respite without the fear of being disturbed or discovered by anyone. It was a little clearing, hidden by sharp-edged rocks and gnarly bushes, discovered during one of his many escapades with Miyoshi.
We used to have so much fun! We would pretend that this was our fortress, we would play-fight with branches and spend hours just staring at the clouds. Soujirou closed his eyes. If he tried hard enough, he could still hear the phantom laughter of his best friend.
"Neh, Miyoshi, I think that cloud looks exactly like you." Soujirou smiled as he pointed at the sky.
"Nya, that white fluffy one?" Miyoshi stroked his chin in deep contemplation as he stared at the cloud, " Unnya, it doesn't! Looks as if it has pointy ears...I even spot a tail. Nya! It looks like..."
"A neko?" Soujirou supplied slyly.
"Exactly! A neko!" Miyoshi exclaimed, clapping his hands in agreement. A few seconds later, his eyes narrowed as he stared at his friend whose face was suspiciously straight, "Chotto! You said the cloud looked like me earlier."
Soujirou's face split into a wide grin.
"Unnya! Are you saying I am like a neko?" Miyoshi pouted as he jabbed a finger at his friend. "Nya! Take that back, Soujirou, or I'll...I'll..."
Soujirou's response to Miyoshi's threat was to smirk even more widely, "You'll what, neko? Meow?"
"Nya, I'll do this!" Miyoshi launched into his most fearsome attack – tickling; Soujirou responded in kind, and both boys were reduced to fits of laughter.
But Miyoshi was gone. Two summers ago, Miyoshi's father had succumbed to his debilitating illness. A few days after his burial, Miyoshi's uncle had arrived to take the boy away. Miyoshi had promised to keep in touch.
"I'll write to you as soon as I am settled down, Soujirou. Just wait for my letters!" Miyoshi's eyes, abnormally large on his grief-stricken face, had been bright with unshed tears.
Soujirou had waited. But the days trickled into weeks, and the weeks into months. It had been more than two years, but he never received a letter. He never received even a word about Miyoshi, it was almost as if his best friend had vanished from the surface of the earth. Where are ...
"Teme! How dare that bastard lay his hands on us!" Loud cursing shattered Soujirou's reverie.
"I can't believe the four of us were no match for him. Damn him! I think he broke my teeth!" There was a loud spitting sound.
"My guts hurt like hell! We didn't even get a single mon from him!"
Soujirou stiffened, he recognized their voices: they were the same men who used to beat up Miyoshi for money.
"Well, he's going straight to hell for what he did to us!" At that remark, the men broke into raucous laughter.
"That ahou! He still dared to ask us for directions after beating us up! The way to the village square, he asked! Well, I gave him the way alright! I just didn't mention that there's a whole stretch of quicksand on the way. He and that big wooden box of his can sink right down to the pits of hell!"
Soujirou's heart pounded as the voices and footsteps faded away. They are sending a man to his death! I have to try and stop him before he drowns!
......................
Kami-sama, please let me be in time! Soujirou prayed
silently as he weaved frantically through the forest, his legs pounding against
the uneven ground strewn with fallen leaves and branches. Where are you?
There was a sour taste of frustration in his mouth and gnawing fear in the pit
of his stomach as his eyes encountered nothing but seemingly endless miles of
bare, grizzled trees.
His footsteps slowed as the stretch of quicksand came into sight. He
scanned his eyes around, but there was no sign of life. Even the mournful cries
of ravens and the incessant buzzing of the cicadas have faded into silence. His
remaining strength fleeing from his body, Soujirou sank to his knees, panting
harshly as he forced oxygen into his starved lungs. Almost immediately, he was
seized by a paroxysm of coughing as the cold sharp air assaulted his parched
throat.
As his coughing gradually subsided, Soujirou became aware that he was no longer alone. The person had not made a sound, but Soujirou could sense his presence. The fine hairs on the nape of his neck stood as he felt the weight of the person's scrutiny upon him.
"Who's out there? You should show yourself." Despite his quickening pulse, Soujirou spoke unhurriedly, almost calmly.
"You were following me. Why?" There was no inflection in the voice: so devoid of emotion that the question could have been a statement. Yet, there was an indefinable richness to it: deep, with a dark, resonant timbre that stirred an unnamed emotion within Soujirou.
Soujirou turned in the direction of the voice and found a youth, perhaps seventeen or eighteen of age, standing before him. His breath hitched as he fully registered the impact of the youth's visage. He's beautiful. Hair the color of burnished mahogany; an almost ascetic face framed by hazel eyes that appear at once amber, at once jade in the afternoon light. His skin gilded by the rays of the sun, was touched with the sheen of gold and copper. He's beautiful, like a god. And just as cold and untouchable, thought Soujirou silently as he stared into the expressionless face and implacable eyes.
"You were following me. Why?"
From the corner of his eyes, Soujirou could see a wooden box next to one of the trees. I am in time after all! Soujirou allowed himself a silent sigh of relief. "I heard a group of local gangsters talking. They were beaten up by someone whom they had tried to extort money from. In retaliation, the directions to the village they gave were so that he would unknowingly go through the area of quicksand." Opening his azure eyes fully, Soujirou stared back at the youth, "I believe you are the person whom they were talking about. I came after you to warn you about the danger.""You ran all the way here to warn an absolute stranger." The youth's eyes were unreadable and his tone remained unchanged, yet, Soujirou could sense that the youth did not believe a word he had said."Yes. I ran here as quickly as I could. I was afraid that I would be too late, and that..."
"What do you want from me?" The youth coolly interrupted Soujirou in mid-explanation.
"What?" For a moment, Soujirou was confused.
"I trust a few mons would be sufficient." The youth dug into his slate-colored yukata and took out the coins.
Confusion morphed into anger as Soujirou stared at the handful of coins held in front of his face, "I don't want your stinking coins!" He moved to push the offending hand away from his line of vision when strong fingers snaked around his throat.
"I despise liars." The youth said calmly as he flexed his fingers, tightening his grip around Soujirou's throat, "How much are they paying you to follow me?"
"I came to warn you, bastard!" Soujirou was furious, "I didn't want you to drown!"
The fingers pressed further into his throat, stopping the flow of air. Soujirou clawed desperately at the youth's hand as his vision turned white. Hot tears spilled from the corners of his eyes, "Please...the quicksand...I didn't want you to drown."The grip loosened abruptly. Soujirou collapsed onto the ground like a broken marionette, harsh sobs wrecking his body as he curled into a fetal position.
"Why do you care?" The youth bent and kneeled down as he stared at Soujirou. "Why expose yourself to unnecessary danger?"
"I saw it drown." Soujirou's eyes were wide and unblinking, "A year ago. A fawn...it was trying so desperately to escape from hunters that it ran right into the stretch of quicksand. Its cries...they went on and on until it was finally swallowed by the sands." Shuddering with remembered horror, Soujirou closed his eyes, "It was a horrible death. I do not wish the same fate to befall on anyone."
He didn't know how long they remained there, him curled on the ground and the youth sitting in silence beside him: only that his tears had eventually stopped and the warm wetness on his cheeks had disappeared.
"There are scratches on your face." Soujirou's eyes flickered open at the unexpected remark.
Tracing the reddened lines on his face, Soujirou grimaced, "I must have gotten scratched by branches when I was running here..."
"Here." Soujirou stared at the small white packet held before him, and then at the youth. He made no movements to receive the offering.
"It's medicine. An old formula handed down in my family.
Follow the instructions to prepare it and put it on your scratches. It will
reduce the swelling and alleviate the pain."
"I don't need..."Soujirou started.
"Hn. You probably don't need it for your face, but the rest of you..."The youth's eyes were dispassionate as he noted the inordinate number of bruises and scratches on Soujirou's arms and legs, "When you get another beating at home, you'll find this useful."
With a flash of insight, Soujirou realized that this was probably as close to an apology he was going to get from the youth. Unbidden, his lips crept upwards as he said wryly, "I'll accept this then." I'll accept your peace-offering.
Something akin to amusement moved in the youth's eyes as he stood up to leave, "What is your name?"
"Soujirou. Soujirou Harumasa." Soujirou replied bemusedly as he watched the youth walked to the tree where his wooden box was located. With an easy, fluid movement, he hoisted the wooden box over his shoulders.
"I am Hijikata. Hijikata Toshizou." Turning to face Soujirou, Hijikata continued, "I thank you for your warning, Soujirou, although it was not necessary in the first place."
"What?" Soujirou was nonplussed.
"I always do my research. I know this is a quicksand area." At the look of disbelief on Soujirou's face, Hijikata lifted an eye-brow, "You will find that the element of surprise is always invaluable. If they had known that I was going straight to the village, they would no doubt have gotten the rest of their gang to come after me. I can deal with them of course, but I really do not want to create a ruckus when I am in a new place. I doubt the villagers will welcome me with open arms if that happened."
"Furthermore," Hijikata continued, "since they think I've met with a tragic end, when they do meet me again, they will be shocked. They might regroup, but plans made in haste are seldom perfect. This gives me the upper hand should there be more confrontations."
Turning around so that his back faced Soujirou once more, Hijikata's tone was reflective. "However, I didn't plan for you to appear." Tilting his head, he bade his farewell, "Sayonara, Soujirou."
......................
He was bored, so incredibly, suffocatingly bored. Downing yet another cup of heated sake, he stared out of the window, his face twisted with loathing at the rustic scenery before him. He hated to be back home, back to the rural backwaters of Shirakawa, back to face his old hag of a mother who just wouldn't die and relinquish her position as head of the Shirakawa clan, and back to face his virago of a wife whose sole purpose in life was to deny him of his little pleasures.
Speaking of little pleasures...his eyes drooped heavily as he thought of the past few weeks he had spent at Edo. Oh, he had fun. There was a splendor about Edo. The allure of bright lights, the smoky haze of sake fumes and mood-enhancing drugs, and the veritable trove of debauchery available for the discerning palate. He had always loved beautiful things. He loved to possess them, to use them and to break them. And there had been so many beautiful young things in Edo, he thought as a shiver of pleasure ran through his body. Even now, he could hear their desperate cries, could feel their hearts fluttering like frightened birds, could feel their young bodies writhing and struggling underneath him...
There was a sound of knocking. "Who is it?" He snapped.
"Shirakawa-san, you asked for more sake and some sweetmeats. They are here." It was one of the servants.
"Just leave the damn things and get out of here." The shoji screen slid open, and the boy came in with the heavy tray of food and wine. Shirakawa Anzu felt his tongue curled in dislike as he watched the skinny boy place the food on the table. Soujirou. Anzu had never liked the boy, with his skinny frame and dirty, matted brown locks. More than that, the boy never cried even when he was beaten badly: there was a perpetual half smile on his face and his eyes were always closed. His behavior robbed Anzu the pleasure of hitting him.
Soujirou was efficient. Within a minute, the shoji screen slid close once more, and the boy was gone.
With a grunt of patent displeasure, Anzu started to pour himself another cup of sake when he heard a cheerful chirping at his window.
"Well, well...what do we have here?" It was a bird, trilling its happy song as it settled trustingly on the man's open palm. For a moment, Anzu regarded the bird in silence, before his attention was caught by the two figures talking below.
Ayame. A look of revulsion came over his face as he regarded the girl talking to Soujirou.
Once she had been beautiful, like delicate sakura petals, soft and flushed with pink. Oh yes, she had been a beautiful, and very feisty ten year old girl. He remembered how he had trapped her in his room, how she had screamed and fought as he pushed her to the floor and tore at her yukata,...It was just too bad that his wife had interrupted them before he had taken the girl. In fury, she had poured the scalding pot of hot tea on the table all over Ayame's face...
Anzu spat. That was his wife. Always robbing him of his fun at the wrong time. Couldn't she have waited till he was done with the girl before she poured the tea? He had had no satisfaction that night, and instead earned a tongue lashing from his mother. For some twisted reason, his mother had allowed Ayame to continue to stay with the Shirakawa clan. If it were left to him, he would have kicked her out of the village.
Suddenly he heard a twinkling laugh. Narrowing his eyes, he stared, almost mesmerized, at Soujirou. He had never seen Soujirou laughed before, never seen the teasing way he tilted his head to one side and never seen the flash of small white teeth. Most of all, he had never seen Soujirou's eyes as they were now, wide open and impossibly blue, alit with joy.
Unconsciously, Anzu licked his lips. He could see it now...those blue eyes widened into terror, darkened with fear. That mouth of Soujirou, he could imagine several delightful uses for it. And he knew Soujirou would fight. That would make things much more pleasurable for him. Oh yes, Anzu thought breathlessly, his fingers clenching together as he felt himself hardened with desire, I believe he would be quite entertaining.
He was suddenly aware that there was something in his hand, "I forgot about this. Must have broken its neck."
With mild disgust, he flung the lifeless bird onto the floor. Wiping his hands, Anzu hummed as he devoured the sweetmeats.
A mild breeze blew, ruffling the wheat-colored feathers of the bird. It would never sing again. Nor would it ever find its family.
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Nya, it was rather long wasn't it? Yikes (hides from rotten eggs and tomatoes) Gomene! If it seems that I have introduced too many new characters, rest assured that most of them are somewhat linked – this means that Ayame is not a Mary Sue. Please be patient with me.
Ohisashiburidesu Japanese greeting, loosely it means: it's been a long time
neko cat
mon 19th century Japanese coinage