Printed paper split with a thin, tearing sound.
Hakkai looked down in mild chagrin at yet another ripped page in the book in his lap. He'd been doing so well, too. For the past twenty pages or so he'd managed without incident, painstakingly holding four of the long talons on his right hand out of the way while sliding the point at the end of his index finger under the top sheet of paper to turn it. Unfortunately it only took one moment of mis-calculation, of failing to take into account that his fingers were effectively now half-again as long, for the sharp edges of one of his youkai claws to catch and slice a deep gash in the paper.
The pages of the book hadn't seemed particularly dog-eared when he'd started, a testament to the fact that other youkai didn't seem to have this problem. Was it because they learned to handle such things since they were very small, before their claws became dangerous? Perhaps the ones that read trimmed their nails? Or maybe it was just him--that his mind still couldn't quite grasp the concept of being stuck in this form, when he'd only ever spent time as a human or a youkai with limiters before.
Hakkai sighed and closed the book, setting it aside before he mangled it further. The thick and rather dusty volume was one of a small collection that Hari had left with him, when he had responded positively to her offer of something to read. He glanced over at the pile on the bedside table beside the cracked lens of his monocle and the single silver ear cuff. Somehow, all of the books Hari had brought turned out to contain material on youkai culture or history. Hakkai took this to be an unsubtle hint on her part that he should get in touch with his "youkai roots" as long as he was here. He had only smiled and thanked her for the books politely. He had no desire whatsoever to explain to her that his being a youkai was a matter of circumstance, not heredity.
His movement as he set the book down caused the blond-haired youkai at the table across the room to glance over at him suspiciously. Hari had explained that neither she nor her sister, Ruri, were able to be around all the time; both had other duties in this underground youkai "town". Therefore, others took turns staying in the room. ...To see to his needs, Hari had said, but Hakkai wasn't naive enough to believe that was the only reason. Not that he could blame them. In their position, it wasn't very wise to trust outsiders, especially if those outsiders were other youkai.
Hakkai was never left on his own for more than a minute or two, even when he was sleeping. It seemed as if there were a different bat-winged youkai sitting in the chair by the table each time he opened his eyes. His current guard was jumpier than most. Ostensibly, the youkai was trying to mend some sort of snare with focused diligence. From this distance, Hakkai couldn't really tell what was wrong with it, but certainly it should have been fixed after the first hour. The winged youkai was actually spending most of his time staring across the room when he thought Hakkai wasn't looking, his blond brows drawn down in a wary expression. Occasionally the youkai would get up to poke at the fire, or to rummage through the drawers of Hari's workbench in search of various items. To stretch his legs, apparently--or maybe it was just to check that Hakkai wasn't up to anything nefarious out of his usual line of sight.
Hakkai shifted his shoulder blades against the rough rock wall behind him, pulling at the hem of the borrowed button-down shirt draped over his shoulders to keep it from bunching up between his back and the stone. The black shirt he normally wore beneath his tunic was dry by now, but was a pullover, and he wasn't quite up to managing that at the moment. His splinted left arm, bound up in its cotton sling, bumped against his bare midriff--just the right height to cover the old scar slashed at an angle across his belly. So far his hosts had politely declined to ask about the scar, although it was fairly obvious they must have noticed. It wasn't the sort of thing that anyone would likely overlook.
His movements disrupted Jeep, who had been curled up on the blankets fast asleep. The little dragon raised his head with an inquiring cheep, red eyes blinking sleepily. He'd gone out all day and most of the night yesterday, looking for signs of Sanzo, Goku, and Gojyo. Hakkai had been certain that he should have run into them somewhere along the meandering course of the river. But when Jeep had winged his way tiredly back and laid his head dejectedly down on Hakkai's knee, Hakkai knew that the dragon hadn't found a single trace of their other traveling companions.
Now, however, Jeep perked up, swiveling his small head in the direction of the tunnel entrance. A moment later, Hakkai's sharp youkai ears picked up the same noise that Jeep had heard, the sound of footsteps echoing on stone.
The blond youkai sitting at the table heard the noise at the same time Hakkai did, and he rose to his feet as Hari entered the room. The female youkai walked directly over to the table, depositing a heavy shoulder bag and two full canvas sacks down onto the wooden surface next to the broken snare. As she did so, she glanced over her shoulder at Hakkai, and smiled when she noted that he was awake and sitting up. She turned back to the blond youkai. "It's all right, you can go. I need to work in here for a while, anyway."
The blond youkai shot another one of those distrustful looks over in Hakkai's direction. "Are you sure it's all right?" he asked Hari. "I can help out with things for a little bit if you need anything."
She answered his spoken offer and unspoken concern with a little pat on the arm. "I'll be fine. But you might send someone over in an hour or so to see if I'm finished by then."
As the youkai reluctantly left, Hari started unpacking one of the canvas bags she had brought in. It appeared to contain medicinal supplies, mostly--glass vials and small tins and rolls of cotton bandaging. She glanced over at Hakkai as she set the first of the emptied sacks down on the floor, her eyes falling on the book on the straw pallet beside him.
"I see you've been reading. Are you enjoying the books?"
"Yes, very much." The information they contained about Gyuumao's reign might turn out to be quite useful, one of these days. Hakkai's tone turned a little rueful as he glanced down at the talons on his right hand. "Although I may have to replace your books eventually. I'm a little hard on them, I'm afraid."
Hari only chuckled. "Don't worry about it. Books are meant to be read. If they get a little beat up in the process, it just means that they were serving their purpose and not moldering away stacked on some protected shelf."
She untied the drawstrings of the second canvas sack, removed a few items, then tied it shut again. But not before Hakkai saw that it contained used bandaging. The white strips of cloth had been splotched with old blood. Apparently he wasn't the only injured person she had to tend. As she brought the sack over to the tunnel entrance and set it down next to the wall, he remarked, "Your job seems to keep you very busy."
"Yes." She frowned thoughtfully as she walked back over to the table, as if considering her next words. After a long moment she said, "There was another attack on the road yesterday."
Hakkai had to work to keep his face expressionless. Sanzo, Goku, and Gojyo were still out there somewhere. "What happened?" he asked cautiously.
"A supply caravan. They aren't as common, nowadays, but there are still those that balance the risks of traveling against the profits. Any group that braves the mountain passes has to go well-guarded. They expect to be attacked." She stopped what she was doing for a moment, looking into the fire. "As much as we would like to prevent the attacks, for the sake of both sides, we can do nothing to stop them. We can only leave the safety of the tunnels long enough to clean up afterwards, to bury the dead and collect anyone who might have survived."
She set the last bag, now empty, down on the floor at her feet. "There are always casualties. Youkai as well as human. Humans are weaker than us. They don't have our strength or speed. And yet...they're persistent. They give their lives to protect the things that are important to them; they devote their time to finding ways to compensate for their weakness, to find ways to destroy the things that threaten their safety. The dangerous ones, the ones with luck or determination or skill, those are the ones that succeed.
"I can't blame them, for killing members of my clan. The youkai affected by the dark aura are crazy, they don't even know who they are anymore. They have become no more than rabid animals, to be hunted down and killed so that they are no longer a danger to anyone else." Hari's hands clenched in the folds of her gray skirt. "And yet...rabies is only a disease. It's not the animal's fault that it's infected."
Hakkai lowered his gaze to study the floor, "There's no cure for the effects of the Minus Wave," he observed quietly. He refrained from pointing out that her analogy wasn't entirely accurate. An outbreak of a disease could be contained. The Minus Wave could not, and there were only a very select group--children and also itan like himself, Gojyo, and Goku, who were resistant to its power.
Hari sighed. "It's true, there is no cure." Her voice dropped to an undertone. "Not for lack of trying. We don't even know what it is, much less how to fix it."
Hakkai wasn't surprised that they should be looking for some sort of cure. What else could they do? What other hope did they have, cut off as they were out here in the mountains, than to try and find a way to reverse the effects of the Minus Wave on their own? Unfortunately, Hakkai knew that the only "cure" lay many miles West, in India. He didn't have the heart to tell her that, because there would be nothing she could do about it if she knew.
So he remained silent, watching Jeep stretch and preen his mane as Hari went about the task of clearing the surface of the table, putting bottles and simples away into the drawers of her workbench. Hakkai was about to pick up the discarded book again for another try at reading, when he heard the sound of more footsteps in the tunnel outside. They were rapid ones, this time, from someone with a much smaller stride.
"Mama! Mama!"
A little boy of about four years old burst into the room. He didn't slow at all, but ran full-tilt towards the workbench. Hari turned just in time to intercept the little cannonball, as he barreled into her and fastened himself immovably to her knees.
Two things were immediately obvious to Hakkai. One, the little boy's ears were round, not pointed. Two, the mass of tangled curls on his head was dark red. Hakkai was quite familiar with that particular shade of crimson. He knew instinctively that the boy's eyes would be the exact same color.
Hari face became transfigured with a radiant smile. She scooped the little boy into her arms, spinning him around as he crowed in delight. She spun to a halt, balancing him on her hip as his giggles subsided into a happy grin. "Well," she said, touching her forehead to his, "hello there, stranger."
A dark-haired youkai in jeans and a T-shirt stepped in through the tunnel entrance. He wasn't one that Hakkai had met before, but he looked similar enough to Hari that Hakkai would guess that the two were probably related. "I'm sorry," he apologized, ducking his head. "We heard you came back, and he insisted on coming to see you."
"It's all right. I don't mind. Has he eaten lunch yet?"
The youkai shook his head. "They're taking a group of kids down to the waterfall for a picnic."
"Oh, that sounds like fun." She smiled at the boy. "Why don't you ask Auntie Ruri if she wants to go, too."
"Auntie Ruri's gone outside," the little boy said.
Hari shot a rather alarmed look at the youkai standing in the doorway. "So soon?" she murmured faintly.
The other youkai only shook his head, looking frustrated and angry at himself. "I tried to convince her not to go. But it was impossible. You know Ruri. Nobody tells her what to do."
"Yes," Hari murmured, her eyes traveling downward to rest on the floor. "Yes, you're right." She forced a smile and tousled the hair of the boy in her arms. "Well, a picnic sounds like fun. You can certainly go."
The little boy cheered. He turned in his mother's arms to say something to the youkai standing in the doorway, but stopped as he noticed Hakkai. He suddenly went very still.
"Ah," Hari said softly, close to his ear. "I haven't introduced you yet. This is Cho-san. He's staying with us for a little while." She crossed the few steps over to the straw pallet, and gently set the little boy on the floor, holding his hand as she crouched down beside him. "Can you say hello?"
The boy's eyes were very wide as he stared up at Hakkai. He shouldn't have been surprised by Hakkai's appearance--this place was filled with pointy-eared, long taloned youkai. But...Hakkai watched the boy's gaze shift. He was apparently fascinated by Hakkai's strange eyes, and the dark pattern of the vine mark that twisted around Hakkai's hands, chest, and face.
When it became clear that the boy was too shy to speak, Hakkai took the initiative. "Hello. What's your name?" he asked gently.
The boy hid behind his mother's shoulder, but she gave him a nudge, and he reluctantly peeked out again. "Ichiro."
Ichiro. First son. "Ah. A good name," Hakkai said gravely. Encouraged when the boy chose not to retreat again, he added, "did you know that you have a number hiding in your name?"
There was a moment of hesitation, then little boy nodded proudly. "One."
"That's right. The number one." Hakkai leaned forward and said conspiratorially, "I have a number in my name, too."
Ichiro's eyes widened a little. "Really?"
"Yes, it's true." He smiled. "See? We're not so different, after all."
The little boy giggled, and hid behind his mother's shoulder again. Hari smiled at her son and reached around to pat him on the back. "Mama has to work some more. But she'll come to the picnic later."
"Promise?" the little boy said, rather plaintively.
"Promise," she repeated firmly, as she held out her taloned pinky finger. He wrapped his small pinky around it without hesitation, and they shook on it. Hari rose to her feet, picked him up, and walked across the room to pass him to the other winged youkai. "Take care of him. I'll be along in a little while."
Hari stood in the doorway and watched them as they left. When their footsteps faded away, Hari turned back to Hakkai, leaning her shoulder into the stone wall and crossing her arms. Her eyes on him were thoughtful. "You're good with children," she said, as if she hadn't expected him to be. "Do you have any?"
"Me?" The thought amused him. "...No. I'm afraid I'm not quite ready to settle down at this point in life."
"Ah. That's too bad." She gazed fondly off in the direction that her little boy had gone. "They're one of the greatest joys that life has to offer. Although I'm sure other people might profess to disagree." Her cheerful smile faded. "I wonder, do you know what Ichiro is?"
Hakkai looked down the tunnel, following her gaze. There had been no mistaking the color of the boy's hair and eyes--the exact same shade as Gojyo's. "Yes," he answered simply.
Hari remained very still, not looking with him. Absently she reached up to touch the hollow of her throat, as if to caress the surface of some piece of jewelry that she no longer wore. "That's the problem with pretending to be human," she said. Her tone was soft, self-mocking. "After a while, you get so good at it, you even start fooling yourself."
She crossed to the workbench, and busied herself with the jars and bottles there. Hakkai remained silent, and after a moment, she stopped her fussing and lowered her head so that here eyes were lost in shadow. "I'm sure you must think poorly of me, now that you know I've brought half-breed child into the world."
"Not at all," Hakkai said, the words completely honest.
She turned and regarded him with surprise. Then she looked away. "I know that it's forbidden. And there's probably a spot reserved for me in Hell. But...I'm just selfish. If I had this life to live over again, it would only turn out the same." She shook her head at herself. "It's okay if you resent me for that--for trying to warn you away from this, when I admit that I wouldn't change myself. But," she looked at him directly. "You're not human. You'll never be human. If you go on thinking that you can lead a normal human life, you'll only end up hurting yourself."
Hakkai glanced over at the bedside table, to where his monocle and single limiter lay. Is that what I'm doing? Trying to lead a normal human life? Somehow he didn't think that a journey West to stop the resurrection of a demon king, traveling with a Sanzo priest, a half-youkai, and Son Goku, and driving a dragon-turned-jeep exactly constituted "normal".
Some part of him recognized that she was only trying to help...but she was far, far out of her depth. He was in no danger of repeating her mistakes. He had enough of his own. He smiled politely at her, nonetheless. "Thank you for the warning. I'll try to keep that in mind."
Hari re-packed her shoulder bag with a different selection of items from her workbench, preparing for her afternoon rounds. Then she left, promising to be back in a few minutes with something for him to eat. Hakkai picked up the book lying on the pallet beside him after she had gone, opening it with a renewed vow not to damage any more of the pages. He had scarcely found the place where he had left off, however, when Hari's returning footsteps sounded in the hall. She appeared in the doorway, and then just stood there, with one hand on the stone opening and an indecipherable look on her face. He was about to ask her what was wrong, when she finally found her voice.
"It seems you have some visitors."
A/N: I'm aware that Ichiro is a common Japanese name, not a Chinese one--but IMHO almost nobody in Saiyuki has a Chinese-sounding name. ...Also if it's a person's own name, they probably have some idea of what it means, even if it's in a foreign language (lots of people know the roots of their own traditional Western names). So please forgive the artistic license.