Happy New Year to everyone!
Thank you for your lovely reviews OniKuShita, XxSapphire-fandomsxX, Marialena-Princess Of The Moon, lunardusk and 5namida!
-And here it is, chapter two! I hope everyone enjoyed the first one and thank you all so much for the feedback, we continue as we mean to go on – full of energy and plenty of giggles. We've got so much planned, you guys are going to love it.
MLC.
-Thank you for your support. We do have many things planned, so we hope you'll continue supporting us in this journey! Just a small note for me to the readers of my other stories. . . the fact that I am working on 'Worth Fighting For' does not mean my other project, 'Fiery Green' is abandoned. I have many chapters ready that need editing, so please be patient for a little while longer and enjoy our next chapter of this story, that we both love writing from the bottom of our hearts.
Aen Silver Fire.
Rated strong T for language
Worth Fighting For
~Chapter 2~
Kaoru... You left me with little choice, I am sorry.
I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive your selfish sister.
The transition took place slowly, beginning with the discarding of her traditional kimono and underclothes. Only in her near naked state could she begin the process of becoming the young scion of the Yukimura family. She had earlier procured a handful of linen bandages from her father's clinic and now was the time to begin the arduous task of binding her modest chest. Layer after layer of linen wound around her torso, siphoning off every breath of air from her lungs as she forced the sudden adaptation on her body.
The pale moonlight bathed her room in an ethereal silver glow, reflecting off of every polished surface, including the scabbard of the kodachi she was now to keep at her hip at all times from this point forth. For a brief moment, she paused her meticulous binding and took a moment to examine the blade under the light of the moon. It weighed heftily in her delicate hands yet if wielded by the hands of a skilled swordsman, it could take life without hesitation.
Would she become someone like that?
Wielding her family heirloom as an extension of her own being, taking life with ease and without regret to preserve her family honor. Could she allow herself to abandon her morals and her conscious?
She did not really have the luxury of choice.
The kodachi was soon sheathed back in its scabbard and laying on the floor beside the document which had haunted her mind since its very arrival. Each breath she took felt shallow, the bindings which clung to her chest were tight. For a second or two, light headedness over came her. She wished that certain things could've been avoided as each layer of her brother's old, musty clothing swamped her petite frame.
She wished that he, Kaoru, had never run away leaving her and her father to clean up his plentiful messes. The first, the under layer, of his clothing was now wrapped tight around her hiding the slight curves she possessed from any roving or suspicious eyes. It felt weird, to her, to be wearing her brother's old clothing in place of her own. There were no elegant folds or bright silks to accentuate anything and everything about her here. They were dark in color, presumably to hide any stains like sweat or even blood and they even induced itching sensations against her pale skin. She had to persevere.
This was her future now.
She began to wish, again. Wish that the heart-ache that her father, her dear father, would feel in the morning may ease over time. To wish that he may find it in his heart to understand the choices his only daughter made.
A second layer, once again, added to the clothed protection on her upper body. Her breathing was gradually becoming easier as her body adjusted to the pressure against it in the form of the linen strips, she uttered a quiet prayer to the gods above to gift her the strength to see this through.
A gentle breeze whistled through the house dancing over her bare face and long hair, consequently reminding her of it and the decision she knew she had been putting off for some time. She closed her eyes tight, wishing if just for one moment, she could remain in her feminine outward appearance so that she may half-enjoy having her hair brushed, toyed with and tousled into the perfect style befitting a woman such as her by Kosuzu.
Her dark eyes shot open, resolution steeled in her quaking heart. Her hand nervously reached out to the kodachi, gripping it tightly once it was placed in one palm whilst the other held a fistful of her hair. With a single clean slice inches of her previously long hair laid on the floor in a untidy pile.
She gulped, audibly, there truly is no going back any more. In a few swift movements of the hand, her hair was placed securely into a high ponytail tied tightly with a few left over linen strips from her father's clinic. The longest part barely touched the nape of her neck and pathetically, a part of her wanted to grieve. Grieve the loss of both her hair and the girl by the name of Chizuru.
And yet again, she found herself wishing. This time wishing again for Kaoru, wherever he was, to be safe in his journey through life as someone had to pass the Yukimura name on and she was in no position to do so, not now. He, Kaoru, was selfish but as was she.
The final part of her ensemble, the hakama pants, swamped her narrow hips hiding any trace of her former femininity. With her only family memento, the kodachi, sat at her hip she was finally ready to defend herself in any time of need which may arise in the coming weeks or months.
She spoke clearly, to no one in particular, "I am Yukimura Kaoru, the brother of Chizuru and the only son to the known physician Kodou."
She wasn't used to the light feeling of her hair and it was unlikely she would ever adapt, it was after all her pride and joy when it hung long down her back. Her cherished looking glass would have reflected a face she knew all too well and a thought of her twin brother dared cross her mind, Is this what Kaoru could have look like if he was still around? It only felt like minutes ago that she was being primped and primed to meet the frightening matchmaker and here she was, dressing in old musty male clothing.
A quiet chirp, from the pile of her old clothing, managed to distract her. Hurriedly she pawed through the pile to find the small crimson cricket which was bestowed upon her earlier for its apparent good luck.
With a quivering smile, she turned to the small insect, "If you are to be so lucky, why have things come to this?"
It chirps which she understands to be sad and sorry apologies, further chirps were decided to be groveling insistences that this was her fate and even the best of luck could not alter the fate of another.
She frowned, the first of many under the guise of her brother and places the creature into its little cage then safely between the many layers of her clothing as after all, she would surely need all the good luck she could get. The little cricket wanted to reply, to use his worn and likely hoarse human voice, to reassure her that she was one of the least selfish persons he had ever met.
When her father was to wake in the morning and enter her room, as he always did, he would find nothing but cuttings of her hair and a creased pile of clothing. When her father would look for the document, suspecting something was awry, he would realize that his worst nightmares could not compare to the despair which plagued his heart. His only daughter had decided to take matters into her own hands and he was powerless to intervene.
With sandals on and all other necessary clothing wrapped tightly around her, the cricket and document included, she found the restriction of her emotions becoming more difficult by the second. She had to act quickly as her plans could not afford to be foiled.
With quiet footsteps she maneuvered her way through the darkness of her home and out into the quiet streets. She had only a matter of days to arrive at her destination and thus had little time to dilly dally. As she walked the streets, lone and tired, she spotted a single white horse pounding at the ground with its hoof in an act of frustration.
She approached the horse and gently laid a hand on its head, smiling softly into the crimson eyes which looked at her with a mixture of horror and terror. It initially reared back, flicking its tail to show its distaste in her appearance and that was when she spoke, "I do not know why you are so fearful of me or so filled with frustration but you have nothing to fear, your worries are little in the grand scheme of things." Her lips curved into a sad smile, "You get to remain the beautiful, dazzling horse which you are and even live a life of luxury by having your mane brushed and food in your belly just for allowing others to ride your strong back... I... I, on the other hand, have to make my way to an encampment of men and fight because my brother shouldered me with his responsibilities..." Her voice was calm yet the tears which welled in her eyes threatened to spill, marring her otherwise pale complexion with hideous red stains.
She stood there, a hand out stretched to the horse before her, hoping in her heart that she could somehow gain its trust when a gentle nudge brought her from her thoughts. The horse had approached her, in near silence, as she spoke and somehow she hadn't realized.
Surely a horse of that stature would make a sound or two as its hooves clipped and clopped against the dirt. With a few gentle strokes of its mane, she spoke once again, "I've never seen such a horse as you, I'm sure that if you were to be a man, you would be one of undeniable beauty." She quietly laughed as the horse once again nudged her, giving her the go ahead to mount and ride off into the great unknown upon his back.
Little did she know the horse had been listening to her words intently, moved by the plight which the young woman before him spoke of. He could see through her disguise despite the length she must have gone to in order to keep her true identity hidden. He sensed something about the girl, something which was so very recognizable to him but he couldn't quite identify precisely what so soon after meeting her.
If he could smile, he was certain that one would be gracing his lips. She was strong headed and even quite foolish yet to do something so brazen as take another's identity, forge a life of lies and undertake something no woman should ever have to experience – he felt he had to do something, anything.
A corner of his mind taunted him whilst laughing in pure ridicule that the Oni once known as Kazama, the lord of the western clans, was demoted to such a lowly task of ferrying a foolish girl to her certain demise. Another corner of his mind, flowing with all the arrogance it could muster, insisted that this was his way to redemption, that the girl was merely a means to an end.
As they rode along the beaten paths, he wished he could talk to the girl seated upon his back, clinging so desperately to his neck with every fiber of her being. Occasionally the girl would whisper in his large ears a quiet apology for digging in her heels as insistence that his already hastened speed had to increase if they were to meet the deadline.
The heavens opened.
The tears she so desperately did not wish to shed fell from the sky instead, soaking her and her riding companion through to the bone with ferocity. The rain brought with it the pleasant smell of damp grass which helped to soothe her aching heart.
A unprecedented kink in the road left the horse she rode upon stumbling and spooked, throwing her flat on her back upon the mud. Instead of worrying for her own pains, she approached the horse which reared and tossed its legs around in a manner which seemed more fitting for a child throwing a tantrum.
"Please, I beg of you... Calm down." She quietly pleaded with the horse, willing for its demons to stop tormenting it and allow their journey to continue uninterrupted.
He, the horse, wanted to shout at the woman and to unleash hell for her insistence of a speed he was unable to keep up. It was when his eyes met the ones of the woman's that the rage boiling inside of him simmered down, she really was trying her best and he could not deny that he too had acted a little foolishly by uncharacteristically bowing to her every whim, especially in regards to speed.
His body gradually stopped lashing out in the only manner he knew how and with great difficulty he steadied both his breathing and his heart before tilting his elongated head towards her to prove that his earlier foul behavior was a thing of the past.
She approached him again and once beside him, she ran her dainty fingers through his thick golden mane in gentle brushing strokes. It was indeed pleasurable but to think that a woman's touch would come only at the price of becoming a horse despite his elegant features as a man, it pained his ego.
She spoke once again, "You really are a good horse despite your nervous disposition. I should think of a fitting name for you whilst we travel this road together."
A good horse... how he wished to instead be called a good man, something which felt he never was in life.
"I think, horse, that I shall name you Chikage." She whispered into it's ear, quietly and barely above a whisper as her breath was short from the intense speed they traveled at.
Chikage, eh?
He thought what a coincidence that this foolhardy maiden, riding upon his back, would gift him the name he already owned. A quiet chirrup from the confines of her clothing reached him, one that sounded all too familiar. He felt relieved for the fact that he would not be treading this long and tiresome journey alone and that Amagiri, as always, would be there to support him.
His mind couldn't help but wonder to the loud third member who was currently missing.
Vermillion, burgundy fires entangled with onyx thundering strokes. . . A hypnotic dance of scorching flames. An explosion of heat and soot, scarlet and black. . . an eruption of might and ire.
Emerging from the deepest pits of red was a form of a creature unlike anyone the world had ever seen. A cursed being. . . Debouching from the seemingly unending sea of red were twin sharp purple hues, staring at the world intently, aggressively.
"I fucking live!" he exclaimed violently, stretching every muscle of his body, agile as he always had been, to a horrendous extent.
His voice was dripping with his suppressed wrath; akin to acid. For he was, unjustly so, if you asked him, punished for a matter that, in his eyes, was deemed mundane. Why did he have to suffer under this horrible curse? A once proud Oni, a master of guns like no other, was reduced to this. . .
Skin colored a deep raven blue, nearly ashen. Teeth alabaster, sharp as kunai knives. Orbs glistening with mischief. His reptile mouth stretched a predatory, impish grin of anger and frustration.
He was called upon to breathe again, return to dwell in the land of the living, albeit uncannily, by the gods themselves. His duty clear as daylight; protect the foolish minx that dared resume such a disguise and ran straight towards her demise. Could she not see the folly behind her actions? Apparently. . . not one bit. If he was to voice a conjecture, he would claim the density of her nous reached levels beyond human -and inhuman- imagination. Kyo scowled, grunting in an undignified manner. In any case, Shiranui could undoubtedly recognize the girl, albeit very foolish, had guts to spare.
Firing a breath of searing flames, he crossed his tiny arms over his chest. The gesture only led him to curse uncouthly as it only acted to stress his plight. If he had a choice on the matter, he would rather transform into a mighty dragon; the very manifestation of fear, inspiring and commanding nothing less than reverence and awe. But no. . . Instead of changing into the fearsome creature of the myths, he was turned into a creature of epicly –small- proportions.
Despite his apparent discomfort, induced by none other than his pitiful form, Shiranui could not stem the force of a wild raucous laughter upon an inner realization. For that snotty bastard, Kazama, also paid the price of their failure. Amagiri was also doomed in a fate far worse than his own, he thought wryly.
Cackling evilly, Kyo wordlessly concluded. He would show them all what he was able to do, demonstrate who really deserved to be called an Oni of fearsome power, who was meant to be a master of schemes and deceit, who was the one that could lift this curse and grant them back their dear freedom. After all, Kazama was a freaking lame steed, Amagiri a good for nothing insect prone to be stomped to death at any given moment. Whereas he, albeit tiny, was, undoubtedly, a dragon; in an, admittedly, very far-fetched sense of the term, but still. . .
And as a dragon he shall roam.
Almond eyes veiled with worry and sadness, flickering weakly, watching intently, shrouded by the vast verdant beauty of Kyoto's flora. A chaste chant licking its way out of her rosy lips, a prayer towards the most benign gods . . . to help her overcome this. . .
Her mind was a convoluted mess; a mayhem of scattered thoughts was raging within her. Unprecedented anguish. A song of quivering breaths escaping her mouth treacherously. Paranoia crept over her, vines of trepidations claiming her resolve, smothering her.
Chizuru dared lift her slender arm hesitantly, gently imploring the numerous leaves to make way and finally allow her to take a proper glimpse of the-absolutely horrifying to her eyes- encampment up ahead.
She nibbled at her lower lip awkwardly, precariously close to drawing drops of scarlet blood. She curled her fingers around the scroll at her side; that horrendous piece of paper that spelled nothing but despair, served only as the bane of her very existence, culling her willpower, mental and physical strength away.
The moment her suave hues glanced upon the vast land ahead and noticed the barracks of the soldiers, she furled and fidgeted uncontrollably; a lump, like no other, that throttled her very breath and willpower alike, settled itself in her throat, proliferating the might of her fright, giving birth to rivers and rivers of acid that rendered her mouth arid beyond belief.
She heaved a sigh and brought her hands upon her chest plate, gripping at her clothes. Her heart was galloping, mourning, singing its own lullaby of distress and lament. This very gesture only acted to emphasize her plight. For the clothes she was clad in were nothing like her usual own; a sorrowful reminder of her mission and most dire situation.
A violent sway of the leaves suddenly roused her from her private reverie of self-pity. Chizuru whipped her head to the side, allowing her eyes to drift around searchingly.
"Who goes there?" she decided to demand in urgency and might she, only a moment ago, thought impossible to muster.
"It is I!" A voice boomed abruptly, making Chizuru shiver and flounder in consternation, bit at her lips anxiously.
Despite her evident trembling, the question that slipped past her lips, scarcely louder than a mutter, could not have been thwarted. "I . . . who?"
"Fool!" The vehemence of the response she received only led her to quiver further. "It is I!" the voice persisted. Chizuru gulped, very visibly and audibly so, and shook her head around insistently in silent surrender. She truly had no earthly clue as to who that person, or rather being, was. She could do nothing but pay avid attention to the words that were offered to her and hypothesize.
Staring blankly at seemingly nowhere, she remotely acknowledged the thundering storm or raging thoughts, weaving further confusion inside her mind; ataxia and bewilderment she retained no hope of fighting against.
Was it. . . a ghost? A ghost of her ancestors awakened from the dead to literally hurl her back home for being impertinent enough to entertain the audacious thought of being, even remotely, as worthy as to pass as her twin, Kaoru, and bring honor to her family? Could it be?
"Heed my words!" the holler echoed and echoed and echoed in her ears incessantly. And heed she did, out of pure unadulterated terror and awe."If your identity is revealed, woman," the word punctuated purposefully, "the penalty is Death!"
A gasp, very unexpected in its sudden intensity, left her lips, trembling hands were brought to press at her arid mouth. "Wh-what should I do?" she mumbled, desperately seeking, imploring the heavens for a tiny ray of hope to guide her path— Could it be possible . . . that said hope was the appearance of this spirit creature whose voice weaved nothing but awe and fright inside her soul? She promptly received her answer.
"You need not fret. For I have come to ensure your disguise shall be ever concealed. I was sent by the Gods themselves to guide you in your path of deceit."
Chizuru hurried to kneel nervously, bowing so very deeply, that she could taste earth in her mouth. "I beseech you, o' great Spirit of the Heavens! Guide my path. Help me in my journey!"
A raucous cackle suddenly erupted, before the voice responded, "I acknowledge your begging pleas, woman! And I shall magnanimously comply with your wish."
A boisterous rustle of leaves put Chizuru in great alarm. It was a clear sign that the Noble Spirit was nearing and would soon appear in all its magnificent glory before her humble eyes. She pressed her forehead against the dirt in even greater vehemence, while the being continued, "Hence forth you have nothing to fear, for my omniscient self shall provide you with my vast knowledge and wisdom."
Instinctively, her gaze, bestowed naturally with curiosity, shot up, sensing that the Great Spirit had finally slid into view from behind the thick, serried bushes, and involuntarily her attention was diverted from his voice to his. . . form.
Realizing that her gaze towards the heavens did nothing to help her regard the creature –as it seemingly did not even tower her kneeling self- she cast her eyes downwards again, in search of the peculiar voice that so demandingly roused her and inflicted great apprehension and distress to befall her.
Her lips oddly parched as she, aghast, flabbergasted and gaping facetiously, was met with a very peculiar sight. Perhaps the strangest she had ever set her maroon eyes upon.
It was a minuscule salamander-like creature, as far as she could discern, eyesight clouded by a treacherous surge of disbelief. A whirlwind of questions was spinning furiously in her mind at the sight. Scouring around the numerous possibilities of this. . . ensemble. . . she found nothing satisfying.
The one characteristic that grasped her attention the very fist second she regarded the bizarre and outlandish creature was his bright sizzling violet eyes, glimmering like twin fires of indigo-colored molten lava. His body dark blue, nearly ebony, that offered a very magnificent contrast with his glowing foxy hues.
He suddenly grinned at her, ivory teeth shining in a predatory manner. "The name is Shiranui Kyo. Shiranui-sama for you."
In an unusual act of defiance, the horse which she had so fondly named Chikage, bore his front pair of hooves into the body of Shiranui with intensity that easily matched the burning frustration in his eyes. Over and over did the hooves collide with the small dragons body, every ounce of pent up frustration channeled into each clatter.
"You deserted me!" Chikage growled inside of his mind, "Then you have the nerve to show yourself before me in the body of such a sly beast!" He continued his assault with his hooves, over and over until exhaustion took over.
Chizuru vaulted maniacally, grasping the horse's body and struggling to push it away from the miniscule being. Her hands hauled Chikage back like a woman holding her lover back from a pointless fight between two men.
In the midst of chaos, she could distantly register the poor insect's maniacal chirrups. Chizuru was mostly certain the cricket's cage had been opened once more. Her assumption was verified the moment the now very familiar flash of crimson brushed across her eyes and came to land over the steed's golden mane.
Regardless of the dramatic –and very much facetious –scene Chizuru had to inhibit a rivulet of snickers from spilling out of her. Because, it ridiculously felt as though the lucky cricket was struggling to pull at the horse's hair and force it to withdraw, much like Chizuru did, aiding her in her endeavors.
"Chikage! Please, stop!" she pleaded in utter urgency. At this pace the salamander-like creature would be stomped to death any minute now.
The horse snorted, almost humanly, and ultimately abated, glowering at this ludicrous display of a creature that only a moment ago was suffering under his merciless hooves.
"Go—" his voice hoarse and rasp as the creature breathed out, "Go screw yourself, Kazama!" he spat out aggressively meeting the horse's glower with a insistent glare of his own. "You too, Amagiri!" he added seemingly as an afterthought.
Chizuru had to devote her utmost into restraining the horse from stomping the creature, claiming to be called Shiranui, once more.
Kazama? Amagiri? she inwardly wondered. Were those some kind of foreign words she had no hope of comprehending?
Pretending that dreadful stomping incident never transpired and that his ego was not in the least bit assailed, Shiranui dusted himself and cleared his throat, assuming a proud stance, steeling his incisive orbs upon her.
His fiery staring did anything but pacify her. Gulping nervously, she willed her vocal chords to work. "Wh-what are you?" Chizuru dared utter out, "A. . .a lizard?" she hesitantly spluttered; a faint clamor, impossible to thwart, slipping past her puffy lips.
"Lizard?" Shiranui parroted in disgust, cursing uncouthly behind gritted teeth. "Dragon." He gestured towards the entirety of his small physique. "Dragon! You really are as stupid as you look," he groaned in annoyance.
Chizuru assumed a very pain expression, marring her sweet, innocent features with a distinct sense of discomfort and unease. Really. . . who was he that dared call her stupid? He was, necessarily, a talking lizard claiming to be a dragon. And that very realization also brought forth a very pressing matter she made sure to shortly point out.
"You. . . talk!" she stated more than asked, greatly striving to even articulate coherently.
Shiranui rolled his eyes indignantly and huffed. "No. You're denser than I thought," he mumbled mostly to himself.
"You. . . are," she dared start apprehensively, but was sadly interjected.
"Intimidating? Awe-inspiring?" he offered suddenly, guffawing in pride, flaunting his long dark tail around haughtily.
Chizuru only arched an inquisitive eyebrow, "Tiny."
Shiranui hardly managed to stem his gasp. Feigning the last conjecture did not affect him in the least, he countered, "Of course! I'm travel sized for your convenience!" he snorted once more. "If I was my real size, your cow here would die of fright!"
Apparently very much displeased by the comment, Chikage tapped his hoof against the earth threateningly. The sheer audacity of the spectacle had Chizuru wonder if, exactly, animals could entertain rational thoughts and makes sense of human –as human this being's words could be- speech.
Smirking arrogantly and yet in a very unforgivably lackluster manner, Shiranui resumed undeterred, "My powers are beyond your mortal imagination, girly," He winked impishly and abruptly leaped dexterously, magnificently landing at Chizuru's unsuspecting shoulder. She gasped at the sudden contact, and slowly veered to regard the creature resting at the side of her neck." For instance," he started again, hues gleaming in mischief, "My eyes can see straight through your clothes!"
Her rebuttal –if that could even be considered as such- was to slap his obtrusive self away in great ferocity, covering her humble chest with her hands as frantically as she could. Shiranui violently landed face-first on the ground, darting uncouth insults at the young woman and the animals alike.
It might have been a figment of Chizuru's imagination, but she was uncannily sure she saw the horse smirking devilishly at the spectacle and heard a chirrup emanating from the folds of her manly clothes.
"Fuck! That's it!" the mysterious creature spat out vehemently. "Dishonor! Dishonor on your whole family! Amagiri, aren't you Horsey's secretary? Make a note of this," he added, steeling his gaze at –presumably- someone who Chizuru was unable to discern, before diverting his attention back to the girl poignantly, throwing a tantrum."Dishonor on you! Dishonor on your cow!"
"I am sorry, I am sorry!" she impulsively breathed out, embarrassment creeping at her voice, offering one more deep curtsey. He just touched a subject very dear and important to her. After all, dishonor was exactly what she was trying to eschew from the very first moment she decided to proceed with this maddening plan.
Chizuru crouched down and bowed deeply, stealing an askance furtive glace at Shiranui, who stared at her kneeling form intently. "Shiranui-san," she started tentatively. He only grimaced, evidently quite displeased by her refusal to address to him as Shiranui-sama as instructed. "I sincerely apologize!" she swallowed hardly." I am sorry for hitting you."
Shiranui gulped, struggling to rid himself of the overwhelming surge of frustration, that he now felt invading his senses. Ire evoked by the mere fact that he was so ridiculously tiny enough to be bulldozed by a weak girl such as Chizuru was. His apologies mattered for him not. His pained and unforgivably assailed ego, though, was another –very much worrying and alarming- matter entirely.
He huffed and craned his neck to the side, making his tiny bones crack emphatically."Foolish woman. Attacking the lone man that can help ya." He sneered, mentally scorning himself, because, no matter how greatly he felt and regarded himself as such, he was no man at this point.
"You. . . can. . ." Chizuru released a deep sigh that was held captive in her lungs, "-really . . . help me? How?" she dared inquire.
Shiranui rolled his eyes. "Hm? You think you can trust that fucking snow-cow over there or the ladybug to help ya?" he let out a poignant bark of laughter, "I was, still is, mind you, a man of caliber! Ain't none that can help ya better than I can."
In response to the haughty declaration, Chikage neighed in irritation. If only he was the one that could make use of human speech instead of Shiranui. . .
Chizuru blinked innocently in confusion, "What do you mean?"
Shiranui slapped his tiny palm against his lizard-like visage indignantly. "Do you even know how to be a man, girly? I bet you haven't even been deflowered yet."
She tensed. Bloody red came to mar Chizuru's cheeks, a blatant sign of her systole and her lingering taste of utter discomfort. Must he stress matters so deeply? This... this had nothing to do with –
"What do you say?" he cocked a lizard-ly eyebrow at her, crossing his tiny arms over his sternum and tapping a small foot against the ground insistently.
Only then he realized that his palms and fingers itched horribly. How greatly he wished to reach for his precious guns and demonstrate how fearsome he truly was, compel the girl to heed his words and revere him in all his glory. But, alas, no gun was at his disposal at the moment. It made him feel empty, inane, incomplete. As much as he wanted to lament, wallowing in sentimentality would serve no purpose at this point.
A wistful pout played upon Chizuru's lips. Truly, she had no earthly clue of how to carry herself, treat the other men, respond to their queries in a seemly manner. She never had any kind of –even remotely- similar experience to harness in order to fabricate and see a plausible to an end.
"I do not know. . ." she finally uttered out. It was, naturally, a very difficult concept to digest. Not only will she have to suffer and plunge herself in the deepest, most fearsome of pits, but she would have to do it escorted by the most peculiar creature she had ever set her eyes upon. A creature that was not even bestowed with a proper name or definition, for she, still, could not comprehend if Shiranui was a dragon, a lizard, a salamander, or just a figment of her wild imagination. If he was the latter, she had every right to drown herself very promptly. After all, talking to an imaginary friend could not, under any circumstances, pass as a fortunate sign. She could only hope the creature was, truly, breathing and real, regardless of how disturbing this very thought alone was. Chizuru had to make do with whatever was given to her.
"Don't know what?" he nearly growled. "I am not gonna beg, ya know. You are the one who needs my services; not the other way around, girly."
"I mean—" Chizuru hurried to rectify, "I don't know how to be a man. I am. . . not Kaoru," she mumbled, voice quivering as she thought of her lost, but dear, sibling. She greatly willed herself to believe she could magically transform herself as her brother. But, no matter what, a voice within her whispered her truths she was now unable to bear; that she was not.
That, of course, did not connote that she should resign and rescind her plans, halting all her attempts before they could even properly commence. After all, the Heavens themselves brought Shiranui upon her path to guide her. She should and could utilize a helping hand-regardless of its size- and devote the entirety of her psyche to a very clear and steady objective. She, admittedly, was in grave need of whatever aid she could get in this... greatest of the greatest shenanigans the world had ever seen.
Another prayer towards the heavens; Honor her family.
"Please, " the words slipped past her lips as a trembling lullaby, "I am counting on you." , However humiliating it was in itself, she bowed deeply, her beautiful eyes shut closed.
He let out a victorious chortle, "That's what I am talking about, girly!" Shiranui exclaimed enthusiastically. "And no slapping or I'll bite your hand off."
A slight sway of her hair alert her that the dragon-like being had tapped his fingers upon her scalp, gesturing at her to straighten her posture. The moment she did, Shiranui did not hesitate to leap at her shoulder yet again. This time, Chizuru thought nothing ill of it. She regarded it as a consummation of their pact instead.
"Now, tell Horsey to get my bags, and ladybug can—"
But, alas, Shiranui, lamentably, never managed to finish his sentence. For Chikage thought it very proper and befitting to huff indignantly at his direction, a windy force Shiranui was truly unable to parry, and had him land at Chizuru's feet; very ridiculously so.
Authors' Notes
Many of you guessed right. Mulan was indeed our wonderful inspiration for this story. With that being said, buckle your seat-belts, and happily wait for the next chapter! Many lovely people will make their appearance! Let's prepare to welcome them all with a generous applaud! As for the characters that have already made their debut, did anyone guess Shiranui's role as our beloved Mushuu? How about Chizuru's dazzling white horse? He is quite charming, isn't he?
Thank you for reading!
Reviewers will get special autographs from 'Snow-Cow', 'Ladybug' and 'Salamander'! Every review is a gentle stoke on Chikage's golden mane! Or a kick if you wish, but we surely prefer a simple caress. He is very moody when angered.