Disclaimer: I own nothing.
1931, Taisho Period
Okinawa, Japan
The young man was not certain what had drawn him to this prefecture so far south from the Capitol region of Japan. A rumor, a hunch, a call even…yet his instincts had never led him wrong, and well…the Children were having their fun in Tokyo right now and his greater servants were keeping an eye on the locals.
He could afford the rare indulgence of playing 'tourist' this far south.
Around him, cicadas sang in a near-deafening chorus as Summer showed her most savage face. The air was hot and humid, yet the young man-an exotic westerner by all accounts, seemed unaffected by it as he climbed the worn stone steps leading into the mountains. A black suit paired with black gloves and matching shoes, a black flat top hat with white leather sides-he looked like a man out of time, out of season, and one whom the locals found themselves taking a wide berth around, made wary but his blond hair and strange, exotic blue eye-and one eye which, under the right light, appeared almost red in the sunlight.
Or perhaps they merely sensed his nature.
The native people of Nippon had shown a level of sensitivity to spirits both native and foreign which they young man hand not experienced in the Western world for many, many a decade.
In all honesty, he thought, watching an elderly couple shuffle off the stairway and into the trees to move past him, it was a refreshing experience.
He smiled benignly as a man dressed in the local priestly garb swept at the steps, and found himself staring into maroon eyes which seemed at odds with the rest of his appearance. The priest-ah, Shinto, was it?-paused in his sweeping to observe him, and from the Priest the young man sensed an aura not fully native to the land which he stood on.
The young man smiled. "Good tidings to you." He said in fluent Japanese. "It is good to see a fellow foreigner so far from home."
The man narrowed his eyes, his expression hidden beneath a thick, graying mustache and cheeks sunken with age.
The aura which housed the man did not match the age of his physical appearance, and if the young man closed one eye, he could see it-a young gentleman, perhaps no older than his own human appearance, watching him with wary contempt. A smile spread across his face. "I had heard legends of a great battle taking place here-one of which rivaled the tales of Izanagi and Izanami. Tell me, have you heard of it?"
The priest frowned, yet as the young man predicted, Nippon's Ego of courtesy nudged the man into response. "Yes." He said formally, the words clipped and tense. "A great battle was fought here over six hundred years ago. A great demon came to these lands, of such magnitude that it could cross three mountains in a single stride, and so strong it could cleave two mountains with a single blow." It was a rehearsed line, the young man recognized, one said to visitors and tourists alike. One to placate. One to entertain.
Perhaps one that even had some truth to it.
"A young samurai arrived from the heavens to combat the beast, descending upon a great dragon and wielding the sword of Heaven and Earth." The priest continued, "The two entered the thralls of combat, where they dueled for seven days and seven nights-the demon of its massive strength and endurance, and the samurai of prowess and finesse. One fueled by the lust for violence, for combat, and for destruction, and the other driven by honor, by courage, and by the innate skill passed onto him by his people. It was a single, decisive blow by the Blade of Heaven and Earth which cleaved the demon from its power, and though it was fallen, it was not killed." The priest was examining him carefully, the young man noted, trying to see into him, trying to see past him and to his true form, knowing there was more yet uncertain of what. "And so the samurai bound the creature with his blade, sealing it in a prison which remains here now, for the great sword to watch over for all eternity. It is said the samurai settled in these very mountains then, where his great mount fell into slumber in the earth, working as the Sword of Heaven and Earth's sentinel should something come to disturb the demon's rest."
Ah, a story and a warning, all rolled up into one.
The young man smiled. "Fascinating."
"And what has brought you to this tiny shrine so far away from the city which houses Westerners?" The Priest asked. "Have you come to hear a story?"
"I have come to pay my respects." The young man replied. "It is not often a demon and a samurai descend from the heavens to do battle on such mortal planes."
The Priest nodded, still wary, his gaze still probing. "You will find a shrine at the top of the hill."
"One that holds the sword and its demon?"
"One which honors the sword and the samurai."
The young man's smile was amused. "I see. Thank you for the story Good Priest. Might I have a name?"
"Masaki Katsuhito." The priest said with a small bow.
The young man returned the bow. "Wonderful to meet you Masaki-san."
"And you are?"
"Louise Cypher."
"It is good to meet you, Louise-san. Thank you for visiting our humble shrine."
"The pleasure is all mine." The young man said, and with a nod turned, heading to the Tori gates which led further up the hill. As he passed beneath the gates, he paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Oh, Masaki-san?"
The priest had been watching his departure.
"Leave some offerings out for the kodoma and the tengu, will you?" He asked. "While they know you to be foreign, they've grown a bit miffed at your continued ignorance of their presence."
Taking silent pleasure in the startled look on the Priest's face, the young man with the blond hair turned away and continued his climb up the steps, the aforementioned creatures disolving back into the forest as the cthonic creature from the West made its way towards the shrine.
What a delightful young man. The entity thought.
Something was coming.
Something big.
The Demon stirred at its approach, its aura-like a black, chaotic roar of violence-waking her from her sleep, deep within her prison.
Sluggishly, she cast her spirit outwards, letting her astral body-unused for so long-take in the sights around her once more. It was hard to form a body in this way. The damn tree roots drained everything it could from her, powering the ship core which had once been of Jurain origin. Her physical body groaned beneath the strain, and the images which returned to her were hazy-not so much pictures as sensations, not so much sensations as tingles of energy.
Lethargy pulled bet back towards its sweet embrace, into the cold darkness once more, and with a whine she protested, fighting for consciousness, for Sight, in a world that had for six-hundred and thirty-five years-as if she could lose count!-had remained black and cold with the fridged intensity of a black hole.
But something is coming. I want to know. I need to know!
With colossal effort-not of her body but of her mind, of her spirit, she concentrated, and watched as the world grew more colorful, more clear, more alive. And for a moment she basked in it, seeing the light of a sun which could not touch her, remembering the warmth of a heat which could not pierce her, and spreading her astral arms to embrace a world which had moved on without her. Deep within the bowels of a cave, a corpse wept, yet for that one secular moment she could pretend-yes pretend! Grant her that small blessing!-that she was free. The wind sighed through the trees, the sun danced like starlight through the shade of trees. Birds sang the courting songs and small animals chittered up in their branches.
I…want…this…a thought, slow like molasses, dripped through her mind, and she turned her face up to the sun and imagined herself part of the physical world once more.
"Why hello up there!"
The presence though.
Ah yes…the presence.
With a grimace, she looked down, finding a stranger-not the Jurain, but something equally as foreign, peering up at her from the base of her cave. Dressed in black, his form looked benign enough.
Yet his aura…
Memories came crashing back to her. Memories of obtuse violence, of carnage, of worlds destroyed at the hands of a cruel master and the hunger which came with it, the thrill of obliteration and the dance of one always on a knife's edge, ready and waiting to fall full kelter atop its blade for the sake of the master. She recoiled, found the old hunger awakening, found she craved it, found her fingers-astral or physical-itching for blood beneath her nails and a throat shrill from laughter and-
The moment passed, and she sat atop her prison, panting, hyperventilating, lusting for the moment, that sweet, sweet moment of thoughtless chaos and exhilaration.
She felt lucid now. Very lucid. More lucid than she had even when her Master's hand wavered.
"You are an old one, aren't you?" More a statement than a question.
You are a young one, and vicious. She tried to say, but while her mouth formed the words, no sound left her astral body.
It did not matter for the Young Man. "I had a cruel master, you might say."
A kindred spirit.
"So it seems." The young man bowed in a manner she'd not seen before-not like the Jurains or the GP, with limbs stiff at their sides, but with a large, sweeping gesture of one arm, one leg stepping out as if to catch himself. "I came pay my respects to one of such power. I had heard whispers of your presence, yet the Spirits here are as Xenophobic as their mortal counterparts, and few confirm the rumors."
Their xenophobia is brought by experience. The Demon confided, and gestured to herself. Am I not of the 'alien' variety, such as you?
The young man's smile was bright, if bitter. "I daresay you are more alien than even myself." He stated. "Yet you have been here long?"
Six hundred and thirty-five years, seven months, three weeks, and four days.
The man nodded. "Long enough to become a native, If I am so bold to propose. I myself was in my prime when you first arrived on this land." He admitted. "And while my influence has grown…It is but a candle's flame to the fire I sense burning in you."
She smiled, amused. It is rare to receive a compliment not brought about by fear of one's own life.
"On the contrary. I have become mystified by your power. Is it truly a sword which holds you bound?"
A deep sigh rose from her, and she could feel the roots of the tree dig a bit tighter into her mummified body. A sword and a tree. One to hold my power, the other to keep me drained and submissive.
The young man narrowed his eyes. "A moment-"
It will not work, Young One.
The young man paused and looked up at her.
The power is alien to this land. To this world. To you, as it is to me. The Demon warned. It is held in place by the Royal line of the Jurains, whom were gifted their abilities by the goddess of their world, Tsunami.
"A foreign kami. As are you. As am I."
But one whose power is fueled not by a nation, but a world. Many worlds, as her cult has spread, and whose power compliments the land here. The demon revealed. This land is one beholden to its spirits. To its Nature, to its life-and that is what Tsunami is a representative of, and so is adopted easily. The demon shook her head. We are not so adopted. You who have your people and your lands and who symbolize rebellion, destruction, Chaos, and an End to the Old. Me who is a scourge to the many galaxies, who represents death, violence, force, and desolation.
The young man smiled thinly. "My Dear, I worry you've been caged for far too long. The history of this land-and others like Her-is written in the blood spilled by Her people. " His eyes drifted back to the gated entrance of the cave. "Like a tender lover, with the proper strokes…she will open herself to you."
I wouldn't know.
"No, I suppose I would not either. Such vices I allow to my servants, for I've never had an interest in the sort."
A ghost of a smile from the demon, which dropped just as swiftly. Why have you come here, Young One? She asked. It is not merely to pay your respects.
"No, it is not." The young man replied, and fell silent. "…You mentioned a 'Master', did you not?"
Yes.
"A cruel one. One which led to your imprisonment in this cave?"
You are avoiding my question, Young One.
The man's smile was slim. "A moment more of your time, Sweet Elder.
To the point than. I can feel the Tree's attempt to pull me once more to Oblivion.
"You know what its like to rebel then? And to fail that rebellion?"
And the pain of its failure.
"I am gathering allies." The Young man revealed. "For another rebellion. Not now, but some time in the future. To end this farce of good and evil, law and chaos," His eyes glittered in the sun as he looked up at the Demon, "…of Master and Slave."
So you come to a slave for freedom?
"I come to a Sister-in-Arms for comradarie."
And what do I earn from assisting you? The demon inquired, not yet a flat rebuke but one of curious instigation. Your freedom does not guarantee mine own.
"And if I could?"
Free me?
"Yes."
Then I ask you to define 'freedom'. The demon replied. Freedom from this cave? Freedom from my master? Freedom from your master? Or freedom from one master to be exchanged for the enslavement of another-subjugation by you?
The young man released a long, appreciative hum. "You have gained wisdom in your years." He complimented.
Six hundred and thirty-five years is a long time to meditate on the subject of my imprisonment. The Demon replied. Do not dance around the subject.
"Forgive me if that appeared my intent. It was not." The man said. "And my response is…Freedom. True Freedom, like the kind your astral body can only seek to emulate-freedom from a master, freedom from a cave, freedom from the expectations which have been laid upon you since the Ego first formed the Id. Freedom to be yourself, to recreate yourself, to evolve yourself or devolve yourself-in whatever manner you wish it to be."
You say pretty words. The demon was skeptical.
"I am incapable of speaking lies." The Young Man countered.
You speak of a dream, not of what is writ in stone.
"This I know." The young man replied, "And why I seek allies now. To gather an army for when the final battle comes. My intent is to travel across the many lands and many nations of this world, to experience its spirits and cultures and to gain allies where I can. And there are few I have met which hold a candle's flame to yours.
And when would this war be? And against who?
"Who can truly say?" The young man replied. "Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps a hundred years from now, perhaps a thousand. I seek only to express my intentions to you-and my interest in your alliance in exchange for a promise of freedom."
Something akin to a sigh emerged from the demon. "Only the hands of Jurai may unbind me from this prison."
"Then allow me to orchestrate their involvement in freeing you." The Young Man said. "The Priest is one of them, is he not? The youth with the face of an old man?"
Yes.
"He will have descendants. He will need descendants, if for nothing than to keep his concealment amongst the local people." The man's expression was cool. Calculating. And to the Demon, reminiscent of her Master. "Some simple strings will pull the sword from its sheath and tear the roots from your body, granting you your freedom."
How long will that take?
"However long it needs."
The Demon scowled, indignant. She turned away, ready to burrow herself back into darkness.
"Dear Sister-in-arms, please; a good plan cannot be rushed. Proper action requires precise movement. Such things cannot be rushed if they are to be successful."
Her back remained turned to him, and no longer did he appear to her as the great, six winged behemoth presence. Now he appeared to her senses only as young. Inexperienced. Rebellious.
Foolish.
By the Universe in all its Cruelties, how much he reminded her of her own foolhardiness, too young and reckless yet to even see the bullheadedness of his words.
I tire. The demon said. If you speak truth, than return to me once I have been freed by your hand from this prison and we will speak again.
"I shall take that as a promise. As gospel, if you will."
And the demon was gone, releasing herself once more to the void of her imprisonment, her dreams filled with a images of spirits and creatures both native to this land and not, a pair of heterochromatic eyes watching her with the burning passion of a zealot.
1959, Showa Period
Okinawa, Japan
"Big Sister, wake up! Wake up Big Sister!"
Consciousness.
More rousing from the eternal depths of her imprisonment.
Laughter, not from inside the cave, but from its exterior.
"Come on Big Sister, you can't ignore us forever!"
Oh, but she could, she had, and she most defiantly would. Her decision made, her astral spirit tightened itself into ball and buried itself deeper within the remains of its body. Whatever the brats wanted this time, it would wait. They'd drawn her out several times to tease and torment her, and she was done with their games. If they wanted her attention so badly, let them chase a Jurian bastard into her cell to remove the damnable sword.
The croaking rasp of corvids.
A gathering of black feathers at the edge of her awareness.
Blasted tengu.
"Big Sister, please!" The tone changed. Less teasing and now more insistent. "We know you're mad at us, but she's being chased! We don't know who else to go to!"
…'She'?
A flicker of interest from an aura encased in stone, like a sleeping cat twisting its ear to follow the noise of possible foot pitter-pattering nearby.
"She's hurt and she's being hunted-we don't know what it is, it's like you-from the Stars! You need to help us!"
…'from the stars'?
Now the image of the cat raised its head, its curiosity piqued.
…A simple peek wouldn't kill her.
Besides, if the tengu were lying, she'd catch and eat their weakest. They knew the dangers of rousing what slept in still waters.
With a tired, annoyed sigh the ancient Demon from the stars rose her astral body from its remains, climbing through the ceiling of her prison, past the internal cavern which housed the sword and dissuaded would-be grave robbers, and out upon the ledge of her massive prison.
She frowned at what she saw: an entire murder of crows, at least twenty in total, resting on whatever open piece of rock face they could find. A good quarter of them had already emptied their bowels on her home, much to her chagrin, yet even as she stared, a solid half of them Revealed themselves to her, showing themselves for the young koppa tengu they were.
Her arrival was hailed with a chorus of caws as the creatures took to the heavens, and in the massive flurry of black feathers and wings, a child was left in their place.
A girl. No more than eight years of age.
She'd been laying curled up within the mass of crows, her frame so small that she was all but buried by the huge murder. Her hair was an inky black, mussed with branches and leaves from what the Demon could only assume was a chase through the forest. Her kimono, simple and unpatterened, was white, with a red obi-a Shrine maiden's garb, from what the older tengu elders sometimes described. The cloth was tattered, torn, and covered in smudges of brown.
She was shaking.
"Who are you, who dares approach my prison?" In her time since the visit with the Young Man, she'd learned how to project her inner voice to commune with the astral spirits of others, and this practice she did now, glowering at the tiny intruder in a rage that was only half-felt.
The child squeaked, and slowly looked up.
Maroon eyes met gold, and the Demon stared down into the face of the man who had imprisoned her.
"Yosho!" She roared, and in her bellow the forest around them became alive. Birds shrieked as they took to the heavens, deer bleated as they fled in great herds, bears roared and sought shelter in their dens, and even the now-rare wolf pack yipped and raced to the farthest reaches of their territory, all desperate to escape the spiritual howl which had overtaken them.
The girl cringed, and bowed her head, quivering in terror.
The Demon encroached on the child, red tinting the normally golden orbs into the visage of cthonic rage which she had been imprisoned for. This one. Oh, This one she would tear to pieces, she would rend to ashes, she would obliterate until there was nothing left, until there was only a physical husk of a child and-
"I'm sorry!" The child screamed. "Please! Whatever I did, whatever my ancestor did, I'm sorry!" The words came out in a hysteric sob. "But the tengu and the kitsune and the kodama all said you could help me! It's-it's coming for me and I don't know what to do! Papa is away in Tokyo and its already killed Mama! Please!" The child sobbed, "I don't know who else to turn to!"
The demon paused in her rage, the words striking a chord in her. She was no stranger to people begging for their lives-fathers had cowered in front of their families, holding them close as they tried to reason with her. Mothers had shielded their children from her, tears pouring down their face as she brought her sword down upon them, and children, yet unfamiliar with the savagery she wrought but who simply knew Death, had wailed before her as she brought down her heel.
Yet none had ever turn their sobbing faces to her as a savior.
Around her the tengu had landed once more, observing her silently, all just out of her reach-as though in presenting this small child-this small Yosho-they had deemed her worthy as a sacrifice to the Demon.
The Demon's lip rose in a snarl.
"It's drawing closer, Big Sister." One of the older tengu, almost reaching his first century of life, spoke up. "We tried luring it away, tried taunting it, tried attacking it, yet our efforts were for naught." She looked at him; not yet an Elder, but older than the rest of his murder, he was one of the few fledgling tengu of enough wisdom to have earned her respect. "We would not have brought her here if there was another way."
"What is it?" She raised her arm, and the tengu-his small diminutive form still little bigger than her ship in its more compact form-landed with ease on the limb.
She could almost physically feel his weight.
"We don't know." The tengu replied. "Only that it looks-it feels-unnatural. The other spirits have already slipped away. They want no part in it."
The Demon scoffed. Typical.
"So you come to a Demon to hunt an alien." The demon stated, and sent the tengu to the heavens, looking down at the small charge below her. "Stand. I would have the name of the desperate one who seeks her enemy's protection."
A small squeak, and shaking, the child rose to her feet, eyes downcast. This close the demon could see how filthy she was, the girl's tears casting twin trails of the only semblance of clean skin down her face. She took a long, sobbing breath, scrubbing at her eyes with a soiled sleeve as she steeled herself. Puffy red eyes looked up at the Demon, though to her credit, did not meet the entity's gaze.
She bowed low. "I am Masaki Achika." She spoke in a quivering voice. "Th-thank you for helping me."
"I have done no such thing." The demon revealed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I have merely not slain you yet."
The child cringed.
A foul wind blew, the air rank with the alien scents of oil, fumes, and smog. The tengu around them scattered in a cacophony of madness, and the girl screamed, racing to the Demon as though seeking shelter behind the entity's skirts. Yet as many creatures did, the child merely phased through the creature's astral body, falling through the demon and to the ground on the other side.
Yet for a moment, the Demon almost felt the child-almost felt the girl's own astral body, as tangent as the tengus and gone in the next second.
The demon turned her face into the wind, observing what approached with all her senses.
The creature was indeed alien, one which housed its weak body within the safety of a metal exoskeleton, and as she watched it emerge from the tree line into her territory, a memory came forth.
"A tanpawatnes. Fitting." A race of small, armless, legless entities-less like snakes, more like worms-soft, fleshy, and vulnerable but which made of for their weak physiology with terrifying intellect and psyonic powers. Their hunger for knowledge-and better shells to shield their weak bodies-led many of them to a life of crime, and their ability to eject themselves from their mechanical shells without a biological footprint made them daunting, untraceable assassins.
An eye, illuminated from the center of the creatures helmet-the creature's HUD, turned to regard the top of the prison. This one was bipedal at least, but the Demon had seen them range in all forms, from bipedal to quadruped, aquatic to aerial-it was only their sense of creativity and the depths of their coin pockets which limited their exoskeleton's make up.
Now, a three-jointed arm raised to the cave's top, where a plasma rifle sat fused to the exoskeleton's wrist. A ball of orange energy gathered at the tube, and the demon snarled, enraged that the lesser entity would target what was not only her cell, but her territory. "You wish to die so easily!?" She snarled, walking to the edge of her prison and staring down at the alien, face alight with rage.
The ball of light that served as the creature's eyes focused on her, and the assassin, perhaps surprised by her appearance, lowered his weapon, the plasma dissipating in its barrel.
"Unknown Astral entity." A robotic voice rose, "Stand down and hand over bipedal child MA-1532, Masaki Achika. Failure to comply will lead to an escalation of violence. Your compliance is appreciated."
The Demon stared. Then her eyes narrowed with fresh vehemence. "The only one allowed to kill Yosho's bastards is me." She rumbled. "You will need to get through my rotting corpse if you want the brat."
The HUD adjusted, the blue light within growing and shrinking as it ran some prognosis on her. "Escalation in aggression detected." The rifle raised once more. "Warning: Continued threats of violence will lead to escalation of force. Requested compliance for the safety of Unknown Astral Entity in highly encouraged."
The Demon's lips peeled back in a snarl. "My name is Ryoko, Worm, and you'd do well to remember it." She gathered the chi around her-the energy from the earth, from the stones from the wind itself. From the heat of the sun and even from the moisture in the air, and gathered it around her. A technique she'd learned from a Kitsune who exchanged stories of the stars and their vast knowledge for lessons in Onmyodo, and whom she'd lent her image to in exchange for stockpiling it away in an area the Damned Tree couldn't touch.
She could feel it now, could taste its sharp blades on her tongue, and watched the air shimmer around her. The tengu screamed. The child shrieked. The rifle fired, and in an instinct honed to second nature through years of combat, Ryoko unleashed the spell.
The energy sliced through the plasma as though it were paper, not so much evaporating the energy as absorbing and re-purposing it, the spell gaining momentum as it raced towards the tanpawatnes. With a ferocity that would have made a Kamaitachi proud, the energy struck true, slicing the exoskeleton and foliage which immediately surrounded it in twain.
The mechanical exoskeleton exploded, but not before Ryoko caught sight of something long and flimsy ejecting from it.
"Hiji!" The demon pointed, and the fledgling tengu dove forward, catching the tanpawatnes in its physical shell before it could escape into the underbrush. The tengu returned victorious, and around him, his siblings screamed and cackled, boasting and yelling and demanding he give up his prize.
The Demon shooed them away, a growl in her voice that spoke of fresh warning to even the most inexperienced of them. The creatures fled to the tree tops, where they turned to observe Demon, tengu, alien, and child.
Hiji returned to Ryoko, baring in his talons a pale, writhing form. Its eyes were elementary, consisting of a ring of black dots around the width of its body, and a gaping, circular maw lined with teeth equally at home in a ringworm. It was close to four feet in length, and a mindless, keen rose from its maw.
Ryoko eyed it, unamused, then turned back to the child, who looked up at her with awe and terror. "Stand up." She told the girl. "And face your fears."
The child, Masaki Achika, rose to her feet, and with trepidation approached. She stared at the creature, and a look of gradual disgust overtook her fear. "It killed Mother." She whispered. "It tried to kill me." Fresh tears-those of anger-gathered in her eyes. "Why?" She asked it. "Why did you-Mama's dead because of you!"
The tanpawatnes, physically deaf, could never-the-less feel the emotion behind the child's scream-a psychic echo of grief and despair made real by its actions. It thrashed, seeking to escape the tengu which yet held it, and doing little other than causing Hiji's grip on it to tighten. The keen grew higher in pitch-a sonic scream that was its last act of self-defense in a world that cared little for it-then fell limp.
Achika stared at the creature, panting, a small ball of fury and grief bundled up in a tiny package. She looked up at Ryoko, hands balled into fists so tight they trembled. "What-what do I do now?" She asked.
"What do you want to do with your mother's murderer?"
"I-I want it gone. I want it gone!"
"Than give it to Hiji. Let him enjoy a feast, since he was the one who brought you here."
The child stared at the tengu-a creature, though small, of both avian and humanoid features. It stared at her with bright, intelligent red eyes, from an humanoid face marred by a triangular beak. She swallowed, grit her teeth, and bowed. "Thank you for assisting me, Hiji-san. I-I grant you the-m-mur-mur-"
"Tanpawatnes." Ryoko said, and wondered when her voice had grown gentle. She was unaware it could produce such a tone.
Achika took a breath. "Yeah, that." She said. "Please do…do what you want with it. Just…so long as it doesn't come near me again."
Hiji, still hovering near Ryoko's shoulder, looked at the Demon. "It is all for me?"
"You're the only one of your murder whom I don't wish to kill." Ryoko shrugged. "Enjoy the bounty of Wisdom and Respect."
A joyful croak rose from the tengu, and beating his wings the small youkai sailed upwards, his siblings watching jealously as he traveled away from his murder to dine in peace.
Ryoko returned her attention to the child, and found Achika staring at her with Yosho's eyes. "Thank you." The child bowed formally. "I-I don't know how to repay-"
"I want my freedom."
The girl flinched. "I don't know how."
"Remove the sword."
"The gate is locked and Father has the keys. And he's away in the Capitol."
A growl rose from the Demon. 'Than find a way to get them from him." She said. "You owe me that much."
The child hung her head. "Can I-can I get them when he returns?" She asked.
"So long as I am freed."
The girl nodded. "Um…Papa…Papa won't be home for another week."
Ryoko grunted. Of course. She sighed. "No good deed goes unpunished." She grumbled. "Then leave here and await your father's return." She said. "The assassin is gone, and it will be months before his disappearance is noted. You will be safe until your father returns."
"Will the tengu help me again if anything else happens?" Achika asked.
"Yes." Ryoko replied, irked by the child's nagging. "And no doubt, they will disturb my rest to have me keep you safe once more." The demon rolled her eyes, missing the small, slight smile that flashed across the little girl's face. "Now begone. I have used my reserves and need to rest."
The feared and ancient demon Ryoko, Scourge of many Galaxies, the most feared Space Pirate of the explored universe, turned around and vanished back into her prison, missing the grateful bow of the little girl whom she had just saved.
"Big Sister, wake up! Wake up Big Sister!"
Gods…blessed…tengu.
"Wake up Big Sister! She's back! The tiny sister is back!"
A groan, so audible from the mummified remains that it echoed up the walls and through the cell of the demon's prison.
Why. Just…fucking…why.
She checked her internal clock. A measly four hours had passed.
…Perhaps the kitsune were onto something with their reasoning for devouring humans. Surely it was easier than dealing with this bullshit.
Tired, drained, and grumpy, the demon once more emerged from her cell.
The girl had returned, a rucksack on her back and a large bento in her small arms. Her eyes caught the Demon's with ease, yet even as Ryoko snarled, the girl did little but stare at her with a calm and enragingly hopeful look. "I…I can't stay in there." She said. "Ma-the body is-is still there. I covered it but…I can't…I can't…" Achika looked down. "Can I stay here?" She whispered. "Until…until Father returns?"
A growl from the demon. First Yosho buries her in a hole, and now his predecessors want to sleep in it? "You have no key."
"I know." Achika replied. "But…there's enough of an overhang for me to find some shelter if it rains and…um…" She held the large bento up in her arms. "I-I brought offerings. For you and, um, the tengu."
The growl rose as a chorus of crows rose in joy, the murder flocking around the girl with such intensity that her tangled hair danced with them. A snarl from the Demon sent them fleeing back into the safety of the tree line, and Ryoko approached, glowering down at the young girl. She floated down, passing through stone and reappearing on a small boulder situated near the steps leading into the cave. She looked at the child expectantly.
Achika smiled, a bright image overcast with fresh grief, yet one of such splendor that in that moment, the Dread Space Pirate Ryoko fell in love with the little girl, and knew that, in spite of her face, her relation, or even her failed promises-she was, after all, Human-Ryoko would protect her until she could no longer.
And it would be Achika's curse-or blessing-that would follow that love on to future generations.
"Your father does not give offerings to native spirits." Ryoko said, sitting atop the boulder and watching the little girl unpackage the bento. "He cares only for his tree-his 'dragon', and seems blind to the spirits and youkai which live around him." Ryoko observed."You are different though."
"Mama taught me." Achika said, revealing seaweed onigiri, ume plums, colorful mochi, yuzu fruit, a bottle of sake, and a long necklace of shiny stone beads. Carefully, she made two piles of what rested before her. A large one placed in front of the cave's entrance, and another, smaller one-made mostly of beads and plums- near the tree line. She prayed, lit two sticks of incense at both offering sites, and clapped her hands to finalize the offerings. "Papa wants me to be a great warrior like our ancestor. Mama wants me to be a shrine maiden."
"And what does 'Achika' want?"
Achika stared up at the demon, who came to sit next to the offerings, examining them thoughtfully.
"Achika wants her mother back." The girl said solemnly.
"No amount of offerings will bring that wish to fruition." Ryoko said, and experimentally grabbed at the bottle of sake which had been placed before her. To her surprise, something came into her hand-a ghostly essence which lacked substance yet hung, one end connected to the sake, like the red string of fate.
"I know that." Achika whispered. "And so maybe…without that…maybe I just don't want to be alone."
Ryoko looked at her. "You will never be alone again, so long as you continue your mother's practices."
"Then that is my wish. If I cannot have my mother back, let me find peace with the local spirits she taught me to see."
"You may come to regret that decision."
"That is for my future self to decide." Achika said steely.
Ryoko grinned, and experimentally tried to bite the strange essence. Liquid fire, so much like sake she wondered if she was not alive, traveled down her throat, and a sensation unparalleled to anything she'd experienced in over six hundred years filled her astral body.
She felt warm.
For the first time in almost seven hundred years, she felt warm.
"Then know that you are welcome here, so long as you continue with offerings like these." Ryoko said, surprised she meant the words. "If it is your nature to know this world, than come here and learn it with me."
Achika smiled.
And for a time in many a century, all was well.
Comments of a Madwoman: Been out of the seat a hot minute. For whatever reason find myself coming back to fanfiction after all these years. Probably from the stress of the job. No idea how long this will last or where it's really going to go, but fuck it-lets go for a fucking ride.