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[FIC][Shounen Onmyouji/Tactics] and all come to ash
Riiiiiight, so. Holy crap this is huge?
A while ago, I did a "give me crossover prompts!" post, in which![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sjen asked me for Shounen Onmyouji/Tactics, and encouraged me to expand it to a full-fledged fic. I ... don't think she was expecting it to be as gigantieffinhuge as it turned out to be, but here you've got it -- it's a nicely palindromic wordcout, but holy gods and little fishes, it's long. For my canon, I borrowed bits and pieces from the manga, anime, novels, and dramas, and pieced them together in what (I hope) is a fairly consistent whole. For the record, the story takes place after the Tsugumi storyline in tactics, and as an AU departing from the end of the Kazane arc of Shounen Onmyouji (for those of you following the anime, it would be an AU from the anime ending).
Highlight for SPOILER EXPLANATIONS:
THAT SAID AND DONE-- the fic! Which has been broken into two parts by sheer necessity, I'm sorry! ToT
OH MY GOD PEOPLE, PET ME OR SHOOT ME, WHICHEVER SEEMS MORE APPROPRIATE. DDDD:
and all come to ash [part 1]
Shounen Onmyouji/Tactics -- some Haruka/Kantarou, Guren/Masahiro if you squint, but mostly gen(!)
Spoilers for the Tsugumi storyline (tactics) and AU for the Kazane-Hen ending (Shounen Onmyouji)
14141 words
In which Minamoto Raikou makes a gamble, Kantarou meets several gods, and Touda gets badtouched a lot.
+++++
That last summer, no fireflies gathered at Kifune.
+++
They say that if you visit the Seimei Jinja in Kyoto on a certain night, near the end of spring, there is a ghost that walks the grounds. From sunset to sunrise again on this one particular night, a man paces the perimeter. And if you're unlucky enough to catch his attention, his burning eyes will haunt your nightmares for the rest of your life. During the rest of the year, if the sun is just right and you happen to be lucky looking in the right direction, you might see the sweep of a plumed white tail disappearing around the corner.
Over the years, a number of specialists have been called in to try and exorcise the ghost. None so far have been successful.
"Raikou-sama," Watanabe says. Despite the rain pouring down in sheets, he remains stiffly at attention, face deadpan, and in the darkness, he doesn't look terribly different from stone lions that flank the torii gate. The shrine grounds stand empty before them, cloaked in a thick haze of rain; flickers of oni-fire dot the grounds. Ibaragi has chosen to hide herself for this, but from somewhere indeterminable nearby is the sound of a shamisen being played.
Watanabe takes all of this in solid dependable Watanabe, with water dripping off his craggy nose. His eyes are dark. "Are you sure this is a wise decision?"
"Hmm?" Raikou flicks the brim of his hat up, smirking. "Are you afraid, Watanabe?"
"I don't believe this is the best of our options," Watanabe says, staring straight ahead. Rain blows in his eyes, but he continues to blink in slow, measured beats, like it means nothing. "There are other options we haven't yet followed."
"Of course there are," Raikou says. He reaches up and pats Watanabe's cheek. "But you see, Watanabe, in this modern day and age, there are very few opportunities to prove oneself. My ancestors defeated the Tsuchigumo, sealed Shuten Douji, convinced Soujoubou himself to train us in the arts of war. Yet, as time goes on ..." His hand slides down, and he tips the brim of his hat again, to shield his eyes from the rain. "I will prove myself with the defeat of the Oni-Eater. But if I gain other victories along the way ..." He smiles, all his teeth showing. "That's not so bad, is it?"
Watanabe tilts his head just a little to look at Raikou. His expression is still opaque. "... No, Raikou-sama."
"Splendid!" Raikou turns again, his eyes narrow as he studies the shrine before them. The oni-fire flares up high and solidifies against the driving rain; the shamisen's song picks up to a sudden fevered pitch. He sets his hand on Doujikiriyasuna's hilt and he smiles. "Well, then. Watanabe! Let's go god-hunting."
+++
"Aaaahh," Youko sighs. She stands in the living room, arms crossed, and stares at the weather like it's a personal insult. "And I was going to do laundry today, too ..."
"There isn't much helping it, though," Kantarou says, with a cup of tea cradled in his hands. "If it's raining, it's raining, so Youko-chan should take today off!"
She slants a glance back at him, then rolls her eyes. "You're just saying that so I'll cut you some slack," she accuses. "Kan-chan, honestly, just because I can't do the laundry doesn't mean you've got an excuse not to work!"
"Ehh, Youko-chan, stingy," he pouts. "I do work hard, you know that! And maybe since you're not doing housework, we could spend time together! You know, as a family!"
"Kan-chan, Haruka-chan's not even awake yet!" She sighs, scrubbing both hands through her hair. The tips of her ears peek out, flat against her skull. "I work and work, and you two ungrateful louts are always just taking advantage of my good nature!" Now her shoulders slump dramatically as she staggers to the wall, leaning against it. "Ahhh, what kind of life is this, anyway ..."
"Youko-chan," Kantarou protests. "We're not that bad!" He puts the cup down and starts to rise. "Maybe Haruka's lazy, but I'm good--"
The edge of his sleeve catches the cup and knocks it over. Though it's only a short distance, it shatters the moment it hits the ground.
Tea spatters in a wide pattern across the tatami, and Youko yelps, saying something about a towel as she hurries from the room. Kantarou sighs -- one less cup to use in case clients or other guests come -- before he shakes his sleeves out of the way and begins gathering up the broken pieces, then stops and shifts a little, tilting his head to get a better look.
At the right angle, the spilled tea looks like rising flames.
+++
"They say you were a contemporary of my ancestor," Raikou says, chin in hand. He taps Doujikiriyasuna lightly against his thigh in measured rhythm. "Is that true?"
The captured god just glares sullenly. The chains that bind him are an heirloom of the Minamoto family, originally forged to hold vengeful spirits and now reinforced with the spells of an oni, and they glow faintly in lines across his throat, his chest, all four limbs. Spells have been painted onto his bare flesh, each line stark and precise; they ripple with every movement the god makes. As an extra precaution, candles gutter at each point of a pentagram, forming a barrier that only the creator could cross.
It's been a week, and the god hasn't said a thing. At Raikou's question, his eyes narrow and he hunches his shoulders, like he's gathering himself for an attack, making the chains rattle.
"Oh, don't be like that," Raikou chides. He gets to his feet, and stretches his arm, uses the end of Doujikiriyasuna's sheath to tip the god's chin up. There's something close to madness in those gold eyes, but they're still inhumanly intelligent, and angry enough to char a man's flesh from his bones.
Or, at least, he would, if he could move, if the barriers and spells restricting his powers somehow failed. Raikou smiles pleasantly at him.
"I wonder," he says idly. "A youkai is compelled to obey the human who names it, but a god, now ..." He slides the sheath away, but the god remains with his head up, staring at Raikou with burning eyes. "That's something that's more of a contract, isn't it?" He steps closer, halfway into the kekkai, and hears Watanabe shift uneasily; he's very much in reach of those wickedly-sharp claws now, if something goes wrong. "How about it? Would you like to help me?"
The god spits in his face. Raikou's smile doesn't falter.
"Don't be like that," he chides gently. "You don't know what I could offer you."
This gets him bared fangs, and sputters of flame unfurl and then dissipate around the god's bound hands. Raikou watches these with interest; hellfire, it seems, looks no different from normal fire.
"Really," he adds. "I've done my research, after all. Isn't there someone in particular you'd like to see again?" He waits for two beats of silence, then goes on, "Like, perhaps, a beloved master?"
The god's eyes widen. Then he scowls, so blackly that Raikou almost laughs. "Don't fuck with me," he says; his voice is rough and harsh, as though from longer disuse than a mere week; it sounds more like the hissing of snakes than human speech. "You couldn't do anything like that. The gates of Yomi don't open for mere humans--"
"Not humans, no." Raikou opens his eyes wide and spreads his hands, the picture of innocence. "But perhaps you know the story of Minamoto no Yoritomo, who slew a nue that was tormenting the emperor?" He searches the god's face, then goes on, "As it turns out, that's not quite the case. He took her as his own, and even gave her a name, how sad. But also ..." He smiles. "A nue, whose ability calls the souls of the dead back to this world. Wouldn't that be nice?"
"Shut up!" the god flares, and struggles so hard that he actually manages to scrape his chair forward a half-inch. Raikou moves smoothly back to maintain the same distance between them. "It's impossible! You can't -- you couldn't --"
"I don't make promises I can't keep," Raikou says, smiling; this time, he reaches out with a hand instead of his sword, cupping the god's chin in his hand; he can feel hot skin cleanly through his glove. He leans down and feels the god strain against him; those teeth are sharp and strong enough to take off a good portion of his face, if they could connect. "If I say I can, it means I can. Wouldn't that be nice?"
The god stares at him without a word. Raikou can see an old, tired despair that the god himself is unaware of. He smiles, and risks pressing his thumb over slack lips, feeling the fangs beneath.
"Think about it," he says, and leaves the room with Watanabe close behind.
+++
Haruka comes down for lunch and finds the living room awash with youkai. Kantarou is hip-deep in them, with more perched on his shoulders and atop his head, looking wryly amused; Youko is sitting beside him, her mending on her lap, and looking distinctly annoyed. Everyone seems to be talking at once, and Haruka pauses to cover his ears briefly; it doesn't do much good. A few youkai notice his presence and immediately make room, wide-eyed and whispering -- the Oni-Eater, the Oni-Eater's here! -- but most are focused on Kantarou, babbling at him nonstop, and from Kantarou's smile, it's hard to tell whether he understands what they're saying or not.
"Oi," Haruka says, not uncovering his ears. "Oi. Kantarou."
Kantarou looks up; a small mouselike youkai slips down the side of his head and clings to his hair, covering half his face till he lifts it gently out of the way. "Ah, Haruka!" he says brightly. "Good afternoon!"
"It's not 'good afternoon' at a time like this," Haruka says. "What's going on here?"
The question sets off a new wave of chatter; each little youkai guest seems to be vying to be the one to explain to the Oni-Eating Tengu, and Haruka winces at the level of noise. Youko twitches as well, her ears out and laid flat to her skull. Kantarou, on the other hand, sips his tea and still seems more amused than anything else; he holds up a hand and -- surprisingly enough -- the youkai fall silent.
"One at a time," he says, then picks up the little youkai who'd been sitting on his head before. "Why don't you start?"
It squeaks, wide-eyed. "Um, um," it says. "Um, a little while ago, something strange happened!" It spreads its little arms as wide as they can go. "Someone kidnapped the god that lives in the shrine!"
Another cacophony of noise begins, youkai chattering all at once again: "that's right!" -- "I saw it myself, they carried him off in chains!" -- "it's awful what humans will do these days!" -- "it was a terrible terrible fight, really horrible!" -- "he's never hurt anyone else before, why would they do that?" -- until their voices blend together into another dull roar, and Haruka pinches the bridge of his nose, wondering if it was too late for him to go back upstairs and pretend it was all just a bad dream.
But eventually they do stop, and Kantarou's face is oddly serious.
"They're talking about the Seimei Jinja in Kyoto," he says. "I went there once, looking for you."
"And?" Haruka swivels a pinky in his ear. "I wasn't there."
"Someone else was, though." Kantarou glances down for a moment; even the gathered youkai don't immediately fill his silence with their chatter. "... Haruka, aren't you even a little bit curious? That wasn't just your normal mountain god like Sugino-sama, it was--"
"You've sealed gods yourself," Haruka points out. "What's this concern for? If he was unlucky enough to be caught, you're not in a position to interfere."
"Haruka," Kantarou protests. He half-rises, dislodging a pile of youkai, who continue to remain silent, and even Youko looks concerned now. "Someone who's strong enough to bring down a god like that might come after you next -- aren't you the least bit curious?"
Haruka shrugs. "Should I be?"
"Haruka-chan," Youko cuts in uncertainly. "Kan-chan does have a point -- the god that lives at the Seimei Jinja is ... I mean, if someone could take him down, that person would be really dangerous, right? Someone who could defeat a god is ..." She glances sidelong at Kantarou, who's face is turned aside, pale brows drawn together. He has a hand over his heart, like the old scars are paining him even without the presence of an oni.
"... You're really worried," Haruka notes, with some surprise. "You really think this'll be a problem."
"I don't think we can afford to let this be ignored," Kantarou says quietly. "Minamoto ate Tsugumi-chan's heart, didn't he? Which means he should be able to use her power, right? If someone ate the heart of a god -- and particularly this god, then--"
Haruka tilts his head. "And what god was supposed to be living at the Seimei Jinja?" he asks.
Kantarou lifts his head and meets Haruka's gaze evenly. "The strongest of Abe no Seimei's twelve Shinshou," he says. "Kashou Touda."
+++
"Still nothing?" Raikou asks.
Ibaragi doesn't look up from her shamisen, her dark eyes hooded. "He's very strong," she says. "He doesn't even remember all that's in his heart, but he guards it jealously."
"Hoh," says Raikou. "But you're good at that, aren't you? Ferreting out the secrets a man might keep even from himself ..."
Now she looks up, her red lips pursed into a smile. "I try," she says sweetly. "There's a second level of seals on top of the first, but if you pull free that one thread--"
A string of her shamisen snaps; inside the sealed room, the god cries out.
"--Then it all comes tumbling down."
+++
A dream -- a memory:
"Ahh, is it you, Guren?" Seimei smiles and lifts a shaking hand.
He cannot remember when his master became so old. For so long, age had never bothered him, and then, just one day -- it was as though every second of his life had begun weighing down on him, leaving him crushed under the weight. Guren hates it -- he's always known on some level that Seimei would age and die, but for so long, Seimei had ignored his own age like it meant nothing, and now his master looks like something that might blow away on the next strong wind.
"Seimei," he says after long minutes. He drops to one knee beside Seimei's futon. "You--"
"I'm dying, of course," Seimei says, so matter-of-factly that Guren almost misunderstands. "I probably won't survive till tomorrow."
He shoots back to his feet, staring. "Seimei--!"
"Oh, don't be like that, don't make a face like that." Seimei waves his hand, then begins to cough into it instead. Guren flounders, then finally kneels and helps his old master sit up, supporting Seimei until the fit passes.
"Seimei," he says again, and hears his voice crack. "You're not serious, are you?"
"Guren." Seimei smiles, but there's a gravity in his eyes that makes the breath in Guren's throat seize. "Life and death aren't things to laugh about."
He swallows; it feels like knives in his throat. "But ..." He hesitates. "You have no heir, Seimei -- when you die, everything you know, everything you've learned ... it'll be lost."
We'll be lost, he doesn't add; by immortal standards, sixty years is no big thing, but they've all changed under Seimei's guiding hand, and now--
Seimei sighs. His eyes are dim when he looks in Guren's face, and there is something so tired and sad in his expression that Guren cannot put name to it -- not even in the dark months that followed Wakana's death did Seimei look so defeated. He lifts a hand to touch Guren's cheek, then up to touch the circlet on his brow. His fingers are already growing cold.
"I hoped ... I hoped that maybe all you needed was the time to remember," Seimei says. "Of all people, you ..."
Guren hesitates, and covers Seimei's hand with his own. "I what? Seimei? You should save your strength -- I can call Yoshimasa and Yoshihira --"
"Guren," Seimei cuts in. "Guren, listen to me. There's something you've forgotten, something everyone's forgotten, that you need to know."
"Seimei, this isn't the time for something like this--"
Abruptly, Seimei's fingers clamp around his fist, and for a moment there is a strength like iron in his hold. "Listen to me," he says. "Guren! Have you truly forgotten your light?"
"My ... light?" Guren stares. "Seimei--"
"Twenty years ago," Seimei rasps, "twenty years ago, Yoshimasa and Tsuyuki had a third son. Do you remember his name, Guren?"
Guren frowns, tries to shift his master to a more comfortable position, to ease the rough sound of his breathing. "I remember Tsuyuki being pregnant a third time," he says slowly. "But the child was stillborn, wasn't it? That was years ago, Seimei, why does it--"
"His name, Guren," Seimei says, and for a moment, his eyes are bright as they have ever been. "Do you remember his name?"
"His name?" Guren echoes. His brow furrows. "Why would they name a stillborn child?"
"Of all people, I'd hoped you would remember, eventually," Seimei whispers. He closes his eyes. "Ahh, I'm tired now ..."
Panic reforms itself abruptly, like a slap across the face. "Seimei!" Guren says sharply, and gives him the strongest shake he dares. He looks around wildly, aware of how alone they are; not even Rikugou is nearby -- he has taken to watching over the fostered princess more often as Seimei's strength failed him. "Seimei, hang in there! Wait for your sons, at least, you can't--"
A faint smile touches Seimei's lips, though he doesn't open his eyes. "You'll have till nightfall," he says. "That's enough time, isn't it?"
Guren draws in a sharp breath, but just eases Seimei back down and steps back. Looking down at his master now, he can see the bones outlined under paper-thin skin; the smell of decay has already become familiar. "Seimei ..."
"Hurry, Guren," Seimei says, still smiling. "I haven't got that much time."
Guren bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood, then spins on his heel and leaves the room.
+++
Dokun.
A memory -- a dream?
"Humans are fragile, aren't they ..."
Dokun.
"Did you know? The sun is very, very kind, and it loves the people of the earth. It turns the sky red in the evening so that everyone will know that it'll soon be time to rest. Your eyes are that same color, aren't they?"
Dokun.
"It's all right. It's over. You don't have to remember the painful things ... so please, come back ..."
Dokun.
There was a name he wouldn't forget, couldn't forget, didn't want to forget ...
But no matter how hard he thought, there was nothing.
Dokun.
+++
"Poor thing," Ibaragi says with mock-sympathy, as the god's screams taper into hoarse gasping. "He hadn't even realized how much he'd forgotten. The old fox was clever in how he laid his memory-traps." She lowers her shamisen at last. Her eyes are coy when she peers up at Raikou through the fall of her hair. "Perhaps he could use some comforting, boy."
Raikou grins, all teeth. "Perhaps he does," he says, and reaches for the door. "Why don't I go see?"
+++
As expected, the Seimei Jinja stinks of onmyoudou seals and spells. Haruka lands outside the grounds, letting Kantarou slide from his back, and looks distrustfully at the low open buildings. Kantarou, on the other hand, adjusts his clothes and walks straight up to the place, mingling easily with the thin crowd of sightseers. He makes it to the gate before he looks over his shoulder, and his expression is meaningful -- he won't use Haruka's name for this, but he expects to be followed still. For just a moment he considers refusing -- even from where he stands, his skin crawls with the residue of old, powerful spells that still linger after so many years, and a part of him wants to go no closer.
Kantarou looks at him expectantly, head tilted just so. He shifts his weight like he might lift a hand, but ultimately all he does is wait.
Haruka sighs once, and goes to follow.
An unpleasant chill goes through him as he crosses over the boundaries of the old barrier and grows into a faint sense of nausea. Long ago, the protections had been drawn to prevent even the most powerful youkai from crossing, and while they'd lost much of their strength and structure with the death of their master, the spell's instinct could still recognize him as "other." He walks closer to Kantarou than he normally would and keeps his head lowered, though he keeps an eye on their surroundings with narrow eyes. Most of the people here don't even recognize the power here -- to most of them, it's nothing more than a piece of history, something they can take vague national pride in; the reality of it means nothing to them.
Kantarou, on the other hand, walks softly and on a very particular path. His red eyes are misty: he cannot see the shrine as the estate it once was, but he understands, he respects. His posture is unassuming and very different from his usual confidence -- or even the false embarrassment he sometimes effects. After a moment he looks up at Haruka and blinks his eyes clear before he says, "It's a sad place, isn't it?"
Haruka grunts. He glances away until Kantarou catches his sleeve and tugs.
"Over there," he adds, pointing. "That's the tree where the god lived in."
No one seems to notice as they make their way over -- the tree stands over a deep pond, solid and unbending, solidly a piece of the landscape. It reminds Haruka of his mother, and he reaches out in spite of himself, laying his palm against the rough scaled bark. Kantarou, on the other hand, picks his way around the girth of the tree, prodding around the roots. Eventually he drops to his hands and knees, peering down.
"Hello?" he says. He keeps his voice low, though they're away from the rest of the crowd, who seem preoccupied by examining the interior shrine. "Hello, would you mind answering a few questions for me?"
Haruka cranes his neck to look. He sees something round and bright pink, hiding in the shadows of the roots. Kantarou sits back on his heels. "Please," he adds. "You were here when Touda-sama was taken, right? Some of your friends came by to ask for my help -- ahh, I know I'm not an onmyouji, but I'm pretty good in a pinch ..."
The pink thing quivers.
"Youkai-kun?" Kantarou's voice gentles further. "I'd like to help."
Another shiver, but the youkai turns -- it's a round little thing, with eyes set on its body and two stubby flipperlike arms, and it blinks its beady black eyes at Kantarou, as though trying to recognize his face.
"Ah," it says. "You're here with the Oni-Eater! The Oni-Eating Tengu!"
Kantarou smiles then, switching immediately to a brilliantly charming smile. "Ah, don't worry about him. I promise he won't hurt you."
"Ehhh--"
"He won't," Kantarou repeats. He glances up with another quick smile. "Right, Haruka?"
There's no mistaking the stress he puts on the name. Haruka grits his teeth, but the youkai's eyes go about as wide as they can, its mouth rounding as well. But it seems to be enough to win the thing's trust for now, because it scrambles out of its little den, waddling out into the sunlight. "You're really here to help?" it asks.
"In any way I can," Kantarou promises. He puts a hand over his heart, looking entirely earnest and sincere -- it's the sort of look that has conned even those who know better into believing him. Haruka rolls his eyes, and then again when the little youkai squeaks appreciatively. It waddles up to Kantarou's knee, and being too short to actually climb up, rocks back to look at him.
"The others left a long time ago," it says. "Right after Seimei died. Only the one Shinshou stayed, but he never talked to anyone. It's too bad, he used to be really friendly."
"Friendly? Even with a reputation like that?" Kantarou leans down a little -- there's no way he can be completely on eye-level with it, but he moves closer.
"It's 'cause he forgot the grandson!" another voice squawks, its voice gravelly. From a different part of the tree, a lizard-shaped youkai comes slithering out, rising up onto its hind legs. "They were always, always together and then one day the grandson was alone."
"Right, right," says pink-and-round. "And even when he was smiling, the grandson looked like he wanted to cry instead!"
"But then one day the Shinshou came back, and the grandson didn't," the lizard says. "And everyone acted like the grandson never existed! Even the princess!"
"Ahhhh," pink-and-round sighs. "And I really thought they'd get married, too ..."
"Seimei remembered, though!" says a third voice. Haruka sees Kantarou wince briefly, a moment before a very small oni drops down from the tree branches overhead. "Even when everyone else forgot, he remembered! And so did we!"
"Right, right," says pink-and-round. "And then he'd sometimes talk to us about the grandson! But the Shinshou never listened, so I guess he never remembered."
"It was a shame, a real shame," the lizard says, crossing its stubby forelegs like arms and nodding its head. "He was very young and had a lot of promise, but ..."
"In the end, a grandson's always a grandson, isn't he!"
"Er," Kantarou cuts in, not quite hesitantly, and waits for all three youkai to look at him. "If you don't mind -- grandson? Abe no Seimei's grandson?"
"He had three," says the oni. "The third one was always together with the Shinshou -- it traveled with him as a shikigami."
"Seimei was always proud of that grandson," says pink-and-round. "He would have been Seimei's successor! He always worked really hard at it! But ..."
All three turn their heads now, their chatter stilled; a faint breeze rustling in the branches overhead is the only noise. Even the voices of the other humans, wandering through the main part of the shrine, are very far away. Kantarou sits back, his hands folded on his lap, his eyes already dark with sympathy. Haruka feels less than pity; the death of one human isn't more or less spectacular than any other -- and in the end, Abe no Seimei and his would-be successor were both onmyouji. The thought makes his skin crawl.
"Seimei tried to explain, once," the lizard says finally. "What the grandson did. He traded his life for the Shinshou, but he didn't want to make anyone sad because he was gone, so ..."
"Even the princess didn't remember him," says pink-and-round, subdued. "She was never happy after that, either."
When they fall silent again, Haruka gives it a few minutes before he says, "Then what happened when the Shinshou got taken?"
"--Haruka!" Kantarou frowns at him. "Can't you be a little more respectful, honestly--"
"Humans die all the time," Haruka says. "From the sounds of it, this one did so willingly. In that case, it was his decision, and complaining about it makes it worth less." He leans his shoulder against the tree trunk, looking down at the three youkai at his feet. "You three were here the night it happened, right? So tell us."
Kantarou sighs loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ahh, Haruka's so crude," he mourns. "He can't say anything delicately, can he ..."
Haruka's eyebrow twitches. "You're the last person who can say that," he says. "What happened?"
"Um, um, well," says pink-and-round, spreading its flipper arms wide. "There was a fight! A human came with an oni--"
"No, no, she stayed outside," the lizard corrects. "Remember? She stayed outside and played music."
Kantarou chokes; his eyes go wide and his face goes paler than normal, and Haruka can already imagine the panic his master is working up to -- but then Kantarou lets out his breath in a slow hiss, visibly calming himself. "An oni, you say. One who played music?"
"A shamisen!" the smaller oni agrees. "Ahh, it was nostalgic, really! We haven't heard anything like that in years ..."
"Did you see the oni?" Kantarou asks. "Or the human that came with her?"
"Not the oni," says pink-and-round, "but we saw the human!"
"It would've been hard to miss him!"
"They had a really great battle, right here!" The lizard points. "The human who came here and the Shinshou! The oni did something that make it go away afterwards, so no one's noticed yet, but--"
"So what did he look like?" Haruka cuts in, not quite irritated yet; he doesn't like the growing uneasiness in Kantarou's expression, though at this point, the person targeting a god seems pretty obvious. "We know they fought, and the Shinshou lost. What did the human look like?"
"... He wasn't that old," the small oni offers finally.
"Really young, actually!" says pink-and-round. "Not as young as the grandson was, but still very young! I was really surprised!"
"He wore a uniform like a soldier," the lizard adds. White film blinks over its round eyes for a moment, a quick nervous gesture. "He used a sword that he was awfully proud of." It looks to the others for confirmation, then nods again. "He called the Shinshou by name, and they fought. It was over really fast."
"It's been a long time since the Shinshou fought anything, though," pink-and-round says. "He probably just lost his edge. If the grandson were around, then --"
Kantarou rocks back. He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a small wrapped package -- Youko's homemade mochi, from the batch bullied out of her before they left the house -- and this he lays in front of the three youkai before getting to his feet. He smiles brightly, though Haruka can see the strain at the corners of his mouth and eyes. "Thank you," he tells them, and inclines his head. "You've all been a lot of help. This person sounds familiar -- we should be able to find him."
The oni cocks its head at him, as though sizing him up now, finally. "Will you be able to help him, though?" it asks. "The Shinshou?"
Kantarou hesitates. Haruka can hear the half-formed obfuscation that hang to the tip of his tongue, just as he knows they won't actually come; Kantarou's inherent selfishness always wavers when someone asks. For being a sly cold-blooded man, he can be terribly weak sometimes.
He watches Kantarou make a show of tucking his hands into his sleeves, shift his weight, all like he might refuse, but when he speaks, his voice is quiet and firm: "I'd like very much to try."
+++
"So you remember now?" Raikou sits with one hip hitched up on the edge of the table, a box of chocolates balanced on his knee. He appears to be fascinated by his selection rather than the god's bowed head, the slump of broad shoulders. "Ibaragi's very good at that, isn't she? She gave my ancestors quite a turn before they caught her -- ah." He picks a chocolate up between thumb and forefinger and pops it into his mouth.
Touda says nothing, but the sound of his breathing is very loud.
"So you forgot," Raikou goes on, licking melted chocolate from his fingers. "You shouldn't feel so guilty for that, you know. If your master tells you 'forget,' what can you do but obey?"
He's answered by a sharp hiss of breath. He pauses with his fingers on his mouth, then slides off the table, walking forward, until he's within arm's reach of the bound god.
"It wasn't just you," he says. "Everyone forgot him. Even his own parents forgot their last child, how pitiful. Who would have believed that an actual heir to Abe no Seimei existed? Especially in this day and age, where everything's been reduced to fairytales and tavern stories." He reaches out and lays his palm gently against Touda's cheek, turning it up for a better look. The god is flushed and sweat dots his brow, but his eyes are clear and bright, most of their cobwebs swept away.
"Poor thing," Raikou adds. "This world hasn't been very kind to your sort."
Touda stares at him for a moment, mouth hanging open, his fangs just barely visible. "... Before," he says, his voice rough, "before, when you made that ... that offer of yours ..."
"Hmm?" Raikou presses his thumb to the other's chin; the skin there is smoothly textured, like fine-grained snake scales. "Ah, yes, about my nue and her abilities?"
"You weren't talking about Seimei, were you." Touda stares without blinking. "You said yourself, everyone forgot, so how did you --"
"Tch," Raikou says. "And have you already forgotten who recovered those memories for you?" He waves his free hand towards the door; Ibaragi hasn't started playing again, but her presence still remains close. "And Abe no Seimei himself certainly never forgot the grandson that would have been his heir."
"You--" Touda's eyes go wide. "Seimei was--"
"Ah, don't make such a face," Raikou drawls, and lets go, though he draws his fingers across Touda's cheek in a caress as he moves back. Like a professor at lecture, he begins to pace back and forth across the width of the room. "Did you never think to read the old man's diaries after he died? No, of course not, that would be overstepping your boundaries as his servant. But in the last years of his life, having outlived the most precious and beloved of his grandchildren, having erased all traces of that child's existence from the world, who else could he turn to?" He turns and holds up a finger, smiling.
"Seimei ... he ..." Touda's shoulders slump further.
Raikou wanders back to the table and selects another chocolate, which he eats in several small bites as he watches the god sink into silence. Eventually, he says, "My offer from before still stands."
"Eh?"
"The master you seek," Raikou says. "Even now, you can't remember his name, can you?"
Touda's eyes go wide and his mouth falls open. Raikou begins to pace again, this time in a circle around the chair where the god is bound. "I can call his soul back without disrupting the balance between this world and the next. I can bring him back to you, and give you the time that was stolen. And ..." He stops behind Touda and puts his hands on the head of the chair, close enough that his fingers are almost -- but not quite -- brushing bare skin. He leans forward, his cheek to tousled red hair. It smells of smoke and incense, and Raikou breathes deep, smiling.
"... I can tell you what his name was."
+++
As they fly back home, Kantarou keeps his cheek pressed to Haruka's shoulder, eyes squinted against the rush of wind. Haruka seems content enough to remain silent, even more than usual -- his body is still wire tense, and Kantarou knows that if they stopped, he would be able to feel trembling. He himself is impressed at how much power still lingers at the Seimei Jinja, and to a youkai old and powerful as Haruka, one who hated onmyoudou for reasons he no longer remembered ...
Kantarou shifts a little, lifting his face to the wind.
Historically, Abe no Seimei had left family behind, though none that could match his power in its prime. The greatest shame of his otherwise impressive life had been that he'd never discovered someone to be his heir, whether of his own family or without.
As they pass over a set of tall mountains, however, Kantarou opens his eyes and catches at the back of Haruka's shirt, tugging. "Haruka," he says. "Haruka, let's go down there." He points.
Haruka glances back. "The mountains?"
Kantarou draws himself up and leans over, so far that Haruka swerves a little to adjust for the shift in weight. "Historically, Abe no Seimei worked a lot of his greater spells through prayers to the dragon-god of Kifune," Kantarou says. "I just want to have a look."
"It's not our business," Haruka says, though his wings flare, and they start heading down. "At this point, we're going to get more involved in things that aren't our concern."
"It will be soon, though." Kantarou's fingers knot at Haruka's shoulders. "Minamoto's already gone this far, and if he's going to try and turn Touda-sama against us, Haruka--"
Haruka snorts. "Gods aren't as impressive as that," he says. "Besides, he'll probably be limited. That Minamoto brat is crazy, but he knows better than to not keep a leash on something powerful." His wings snap out to catch the last draft and let them glide the rest of the way down; Kantarou remains holding on for a moment, his arms around Haruka's neck, then lets go and slides to the ground. The air of Kifune is still and pure, and he takes a moment to close his eyes and breathe deep. Haruka says nothing, but some of the tension in him eases as well.
When Kantarou opens his eyes again, he fixes them on an overgrown path and squares his shoulders. "Let's go," he says, and as he starts making his way up, he hears Haruka fall into step behind him. They eventually pass the shrine itself, still in relatively good condition. Kantarou ignores it, wading through the underbrush -- he has never been here before, but he knows the stories, and the holy places of Kifune glow bright as the sun, for those who can see.
Eventually they reach a clearing with a deep bubbling spring, where the grass grows knee-high and thick. He pauses at the entrance and takes a deep breath; the god has already noticed him, and its detached interest sweeps past him easily, fixing on Haruka and lingering. The wind rustles with the sound of a woman's laughter.
Then, says the dragon-god of Kifune, what would bring the Oni-Eating Tengu to this place? So close to Mt. Kurama, and yet not quite the same. Surely your sense of direction hasn't been ruined after you were sealed?
Haruka snorts rudely. "Hardly," he says. "I'm here because of him." He jerks a thumb at Kantarou, who perks up a little, though the god still has not chosen to show herself.
Oh? Another human, then. You have bad luck with those, don't you?
"He unsealed me," Haruka says. "I owe him for it." Even as he says it, he moves closer to his master, so that his arm brushes a long white sleeve. Kantarou watches him look straight at the spring, where Takaokami no Kami is not visible but is coiled and curled, her bulk spilling out and yet still concentrated in that single place. Her presence feels like cool water, more an impression than actual touch, deep under his skin and straight into his heart. He holds still under that regard and breathes slowly.
Owe him, says the dragon-god. She doesn't laugh, but there's a definite impression of amusement. This from a tengu! And from you of all tengu, who would not bow your head even to your king!
Kantarou glances up; Haruka's face is still impassive, but he moves closer and tilts his head up. "It was my own choice," he says. "That's the difference, isn't it?"
There's a ripple of movement and a brief impression of something lifting its head; for a moment, Kantarou can see her eyes, piercing bright blue, looking straight through him. He locks his knees to keep from falling, and feels the brush of a hand against his back.
Oh, I see, says the dragon-god. It's like that, isn't it? A loyalty given willingly to a human child. There's a brief chiming noise, like distant bells, and then there is a woman standing in the water, arms folded under her breasts and an enigmatic smile. "I knew another like you, once. He never realized just how lucky a creature he was."
Haruka snorts. "It's hardly a 'lucky' thing," he says, "to be bound to a human like this."
"And there you are." Takaokami no Kami steps out of her spring without disturbing any of the waters. Her bare feet are dry against the grass. "With a human by your side, your wings bound by a human's name. Yet you're not unhappy."
He blinks again, mild, which means he's warming up to being annoyed. "I'm used to it," he says, the same thing he told Minamoto just a short while before. "It's not a bad life, and I'm used to it. But it's still not really a 'lucky' thing. I might have disliked it."
"Haruka," Kantarou says softly.
Haruka glances at him, then snorts at whatever look is on his face. "I told you that, didn't I? Don't look so worried, it's irritating."
In spite of himself he smiles. When he looks back, he finds that the dragon-god is looking straight at him, her blue eyes piercing. He lifts his chin a little and stares back -- he's dealt with gods before, he lives with a youkai legend; he's used to the staggering weight.
Finally she blinks. One corner of her mouth quirks. "Human child," she says, "I don't think you came here to simply pay your respects."
He smiles again, wryly, and spreads his hands in supplication. "I came to ask some questions," he says. "I don't have anything to offer in return."
"Ask, then," says Takaokami no Kami. "And I will decide whether they're worth my time."
[[CONTINUED IN PART 2]]
A while ago, I did a "give me crossover prompts!" post, in which
sjen asked me for Shounen Onmyouji/Tactics, and encouraged me to expand it to a full-fledged fic. I ... don't think she was expecting it to be as gigantieffinhuge as it turned out to be, but here you've got it -- it's a nicely palindromic wordcout, but holy gods and little fishes, it's long. For my canon, I borrowed bits and pieces from the manga, anime, novels, and dramas, and pieced them together in what (I hope) is a fairly consistent whole. For the record, the story takes place after the Tsugumi storyline in tactics, and as an AU departing from the end of the Kazane arc of Shounen Onmyouji (for those of you following the anime, it would be an AU from the anime ending).Highlight for SPOILER EXPLANATIONS:
| Tactics: A client asks Kantarou to investigate a village where it's rumored the dead are being brought back to life. It turns out to be the work of a nue named Tsugumi -- who happens to "belong" to Raikou. He tries to use her power as a bargaining tool, offering to revive Kantarou's dead mother in exchange for releasing Haruka's name. Kantarou refuses (and quite coldly), Haruka Shounen Onmyouji: At the end of the Kazane-Hen, Masahiro ends up killing Guren to prevent the Yomi no Shiki from using his body any more, but then trades his life (deliberately) for Guren's. We see that he requested of Seimei to have him erase all traces and memories of Masahiro's presence from the world. However, at the side of the Sanzu no Kawa, Masahiro meets a young woman -- whom he finds out only at the very end is his dead grandmother, Wakana -- who helps him return to the world of the living (though Guren still doesn't remember him for a good while afterwards, due to the spell Masahiro used to exchange their lives; his memories are sealed by a silver circlet, instead of the gold one he wears in the series). The fic assumes that Wakana somehow was detained, and Masahiro never did make it back to life. |
THAT SAID AND DONE-- the fic! Which has been broken into two parts by sheer necessity, I'm sorry! ToT
OH MY GOD PEOPLE, PET ME OR SHOOT ME, WHICHEVER SEEMS MORE APPROPRIATE. DDDD:
and all come to ash [part 1]
Shounen Onmyouji/Tactics -- some Haruka/Kantarou, Guren/Masahiro if you squint, but mostly gen(!)
Spoilers for the Tsugumi storyline (tactics) and AU for the Kazane-Hen ending (Shounen Onmyouji)
14141 words
In which Minamoto Raikou makes a gamble, Kantarou meets several gods, and Touda gets badtouched a lot.
+++++
That last summer, no fireflies gathered at Kifune.
+++
They say that if you visit the Seimei Jinja in Kyoto on a certain night, near the end of spring, there is a ghost that walks the grounds. From sunset to sunrise again on this one particular night, a man paces the perimeter. And if you're unlucky enough to catch his attention, his burning eyes will haunt your nightmares for the rest of your life. During the rest of the year, if the sun is just right and you happen to be lucky looking in the right direction, you might see the sweep of a plumed white tail disappearing around the corner.
Over the years, a number of specialists have been called in to try and exorcise the ghost. None so far have been successful.
"Raikou-sama," Watanabe says. Despite the rain pouring down in sheets, he remains stiffly at attention, face deadpan, and in the darkness, he doesn't look terribly different from stone lions that flank the torii gate. The shrine grounds stand empty before them, cloaked in a thick haze of rain; flickers of oni-fire dot the grounds. Ibaragi has chosen to hide herself for this, but from somewhere indeterminable nearby is the sound of a shamisen being played.
Watanabe takes all of this in solid dependable Watanabe, with water dripping off his craggy nose. His eyes are dark. "Are you sure this is a wise decision?"
"Hmm?" Raikou flicks the brim of his hat up, smirking. "Are you afraid, Watanabe?"
"I don't believe this is the best of our options," Watanabe says, staring straight ahead. Rain blows in his eyes, but he continues to blink in slow, measured beats, like it means nothing. "There are other options we haven't yet followed."
"Of course there are," Raikou says. He reaches up and pats Watanabe's cheek. "But you see, Watanabe, in this modern day and age, there are very few opportunities to prove oneself. My ancestors defeated the Tsuchigumo, sealed Shuten Douji, convinced Soujoubou himself to train us in the arts of war. Yet, as time goes on ..." His hand slides down, and he tips the brim of his hat again, to shield his eyes from the rain. "I will prove myself with the defeat of the Oni-Eater. But if I gain other victories along the way ..." He smiles, all his teeth showing. "That's not so bad, is it?"
Watanabe tilts his head just a little to look at Raikou. His expression is still opaque. "... No, Raikou-sama."
"Splendid!" Raikou turns again, his eyes narrow as he studies the shrine before them. The oni-fire flares up high and solidifies against the driving rain; the shamisen's song picks up to a sudden fevered pitch. He sets his hand on Doujikiriyasuna's hilt and he smiles. "Well, then. Watanabe! Let's go god-hunting."
+++
"Aaaahh," Youko sighs. She stands in the living room, arms crossed, and stares at the weather like it's a personal insult. "And I was going to do laundry today, too ..."
"There isn't much helping it, though," Kantarou says, with a cup of tea cradled in his hands. "If it's raining, it's raining, so Youko-chan should take today off!"
She slants a glance back at him, then rolls her eyes. "You're just saying that so I'll cut you some slack," she accuses. "Kan-chan, honestly, just because I can't do the laundry doesn't mean you've got an excuse not to work!"
"Ehh, Youko-chan, stingy," he pouts. "I do work hard, you know that! And maybe since you're not doing housework, we could spend time together! You know, as a family!"
"Kan-chan, Haruka-chan's not even awake yet!" She sighs, scrubbing both hands through her hair. The tips of her ears peek out, flat against her skull. "I work and work, and you two ungrateful louts are always just taking advantage of my good nature!" Now her shoulders slump dramatically as she staggers to the wall, leaning against it. "Ahhh, what kind of life is this, anyway ..."
"Youko-chan," Kantarou protests. "We're not that bad!" He puts the cup down and starts to rise. "Maybe Haruka's lazy, but I'm good--"
The edge of his sleeve catches the cup and knocks it over. Though it's only a short distance, it shatters the moment it hits the ground.
Tea spatters in a wide pattern across the tatami, and Youko yelps, saying something about a towel as she hurries from the room. Kantarou sighs -- one less cup to use in case clients or other guests come -- before he shakes his sleeves out of the way and begins gathering up the broken pieces, then stops and shifts a little, tilting his head to get a better look.
At the right angle, the spilled tea looks like rising flames.
+++
"They say you were a contemporary of my ancestor," Raikou says, chin in hand. He taps Doujikiriyasuna lightly against his thigh in measured rhythm. "Is that true?"
The captured god just glares sullenly. The chains that bind him are an heirloom of the Minamoto family, originally forged to hold vengeful spirits and now reinforced with the spells of an oni, and they glow faintly in lines across his throat, his chest, all four limbs. Spells have been painted onto his bare flesh, each line stark and precise; they ripple with every movement the god makes. As an extra precaution, candles gutter at each point of a pentagram, forming a barrier that only the creator could cross.
It's been a week, and the god hasn't said a thing. At Raikou's question, his eyes narrow and he hunches his shoulders, like he's gathering himself for an attack, making the chains rattle.
"Oh, don't be like that," Raikou chides. He gets to his feet, and stretches his arm, uses the end of Doujikiriyasuna's sheath to tip the god's chin up. There's something close to madness in those gold eyes, but they're still inhumanly intelligent, and angry enough to char a man's flesh from his bones.
Or, at least, he would, if he could move, if the barriers and spells restricting his powers somehow failed. Raikou smiles pleasantly at him.
"I wonder," he says idly. "A youkai is compelled to obey the human who names it, but a god, now ..." He slides the sheath away, but the god remains with his head up, staring at Raikou with burning eyes. "That's something that's more of a contract, isn't it?" He steps closer, halfway into the kekkai, and hears Watanabe shift uneasily; he's very much in reach of those wickedly-sharp claws now, if something goes wrong. "How about it? Would you like to help me?"
The god spits in his face. Raikou's smile doesn't falter.
"Don't be like that," he chides gently. "You don't know what I could offer you."
This gets him bared fangs, and sputters of flame unfurl and then dissipate around the god's bound hands. Raikou watches these with interest; hellfire, it seems, looks no different from normal fire.
"Really," he adds. "I've done my research, after all. Isn't there someone in particular you'd like to see again?" He waits for two beats of silence, then goes on, "Like, perhaps, a beloved master?"
The god's eyes widen. Then he scowls, so blackly that Raikou almost laughs. "Don't fuck with me," he says; his voice is rough and harsh, as though from longer disuse than a mere week; it sounds more like the hissing of snakes than human speech. "You couldn't do anything like that. The gates of Yomi don't open for mere humans--"
"Not humans, no." Raikou opens his eyes wide and spreads his hands, the picture of innocence. "But perhaps you know the story of Minamoto no Yoritomo, who slew a nue that was tormenting the emperor?" He searches the god's face, then goes on, "As it turns out, that's not quite the case. He took her as his own, and even gave her a name, how sad. But also ..." He smiles. "A nue, whose ability calls the souls of the dead back to this world. Wouldn't that be nice?"
"Shut up!" the god flares, and struggles so hard that he actually manages to scrape his chair forward a half-inch. Raikou moves smoothly back to maintain the same distance between them. "It's impossible! You can't -- you couldn't --"
"I don't make promises I can't keep," Raikou says, smiling; this time, he reaches out with a hand instead of his sword, cupping the god's chin in his hand; he can feel hot skin cleanly through his glove. He leans down and feels the god strain against him; those teeth are sharp and strong enough to take off a good portion of his face, if they could connect. "If I say I can, it means I can. Wouldn't that be nice?"
The god stares at him without a word. Raikou can see an old, tired despair that the god himself is unaware of. He smiles, and risks pressing his thumb over slack lips, feeling the fangs beneath.
"Think about it," he says, and leaves the room with Watanabe close behind.
+++
Haruka comes down for lunch and finds the living room awash with youkai. Kantarou is hip-deep in them, with more perched on his shoulders and atop his head, looking wryly amused; Youko is sitting beside him, her mending on her lap, and looking distinctly annoyed. Everyone seems to be talking at once, and Haruka pauses to cover his ears briefly; it doesn't do much good. A few youkai notice his presence and immediately make room, wide-eyed and whispering -- the Oni-Eater, the Oni-Eater's here! -- but most are focused on Kantarou, babbling at him nonstop, and from Kantarou's smile, it's hard to tell whether he understands what they're saying or not.
"Oi," Haruka says, not uncovering his ears. "Oi. Kantarou."
Kantarou looks up; a small mouselike youkai slips down the side of his head and clings to his hair, covering half his face till he lifts it gently out of the way. "Ah, Haruka!" he says brightly. "Good afternoon!"
"It's not 'good afternoon' at a time like this," Haruka says. "What's going on here?"
The question sets off a new wave of chatter; each little youkai guest seems to be vying to be the one to explain to the Oni-Eating Tengu, and Haruka winces at the level of noise. Youko twitches as well, her ears out and laid flat to her skull. Kantarou, on the other hand, sips his tea and still seems more amused than anything else; he holds up a hand and -- surprisingly enough -- the youkai fall silent.
"One at a time," he says, then picks up the little youkai who'd been sitting on his head before. "Why don't you start?"
It squeaks, wide-eyed. "Um, um," it says. "Um, a little while ago, something strange happened!" It spreads its little arms as wide as they can go. "Someone kidnapped the god that lives in the shrine!"
Another cacophony of noise begins, youkai chattering all at once again: "that's right!" -- "I saw it myself, they carried him off in chains!" -- "it's awful what humans will do these days!" -- "it was a terrible terrible fight, really horrible!" -- "he's never hurt anyone else before, why would they do that?" -- until their voices blend together into another dull roar, and Haruka pinches the bridge of his nose, wondering if it was too late for him to go back upstairs and pretend it was all just a bad dream.
But eventually they do stop, and Kantarou's face is oddly serious.
"They're talking about the Seimei Jinja in Kyoto," he says. "I went there once, looking for you."
"And?" Haruka swivels a pinky in his ear. "I wasn't there."
"Someone else was, though." Kantarou glances down for a moment; even the gathered youkai don't immediately fill his silence with their chatter. "... Haruka, aren't you even a little bit curious? That wasn't just your normal mountain god like Sugino-sama, it was--"
"You've sealed gods yourself," Haruka points out. "What's this concern for? If he was unlucky enough to be caught, you're not in a position to interfere."
"Haruka," Kantarou protests. He half-rises, dislodging a pile of youkai, who continue to remain silent, and even Youko looks concerned now. "Someone who's strong enough to bring down a god like that might come after you next -- aren't you the least bit curious?"
Haruka shrugs. "Should I be?"
"Haruka-chan," Youko cuts in uncertainly. "Kan-chan does have a point -- the god that lives at the Seimei Jinja is ... I mean, if someone could take him down, that person would be really dangerous, right? Someone who could defeat a god is ..." She glances sidelong at Kantarou, who's face is turned aside, pale brows drawn together. He has a hand over his heart, like the old scars are paining him even without the presence of an oni.
"... You're really worried," Haruka notes, with some surprise. "You really think this'll be a problem."
"I don't think we can afford to let this be ignored," Kantarou says quietly. "Minamoto ate Tsugumi-chan's heart, didn't he? Which means he should be able to use her power, right? If someone ate the heart of a god -- and particularly this god, then--"
Haruka tilts his head. "And what god was supposed to be living at the Seimei Jinja?" he asks.
Kantarou lifts his head and meets Haruka's gaze evenly. "The strongest of Abe no Seimei's twelve Shinshou," he says. "Kashou Touda."
+++
"Still nothing?" Raikou asks.
Ibaragi doesn't look up from her shamisen, her dark eyes hooded. "He's very strong," she says. "He doesn't even remember all that's in his heart, but he guards it jealously."
"Hoh," says Raikou. "But you're good at that, aren't you? Ferreting out the secrets a man might keep even from himself ..."
Now she looks up, her red lips pursed into a smile. "I try," she says sweetly. "There's a second level of seals on top of the first, but if you pull free that one thread--"
A string of her shamisen snaps; inside the sealed room, the god cries out.
"--Then it all comes tumbling down."
+++
A dream -- a memory:
"Ahh, is it you, Guren?" Seimei smiles and lifts a shaking hand.
He cannot remember when his master became so old. For so long, age had never bothered him, and then, just one day -- it was as though every second of his life had begun weighing down on him, leaving him crushed under the weight. Guren hates it -- he's always known on some level that Seimei would age and die, but for so long, Seimei had ignored his own age like it meant nothing, and now his master looks like something that might blow away on the next strong wind.
"Seimei," he says after long minutes. He drops to one knee beside Seimei's futon. "You--"
"I'm dying, of course," Seimei says, so matter-of-factly that Guren almost misunderstands. "I probably won't survive till tomorrow."
He shoots back to his feet, staring. "Seimei--!"
"Oh, don't be like that, don't make a face like that." Seimei waves his hand, then begins to cough into it instead. Guren flounders, then finally kneels and helps his old master sit up, supporting Seimei until the fit passes.
"Seimei," he says again, and hears his voice crack. "You're not serious, are you?"
"Guren." Seimei smiles, but there's a gravity in his eyes that makes the breath in Guren's throat seize. "Life and death aren't things to laugh about."
He swallows; it feels like knives in his throat. "But ..." He hesitates. "You have no heir, Seimei -- when you die, everything you know, everything you've learned ... it'll be lost."
We'll be lost, he doesn't add; by immortal standards, sixty years is no big thing, but they've all changed under Seimei's guiding hand, and now--
Seimei sighs. His eyes are dim when he looks in Guren's face, and there is something so tired and sad in his expression that Guren cannot put name to it -- not even in the dark months that followed Wakana's death did Seimei look so defeated. He lifts a hand to touch Guren's cheek, then up to touch the circlet on his brow. His fingers are already growing cold.
"I hoped ... I hoped that maybe all you needed was the time to remember," Seimei says. "Of all people, you ..."
Guren hesitates, and covers Seimei's hand with his own. "I what? Seimei? You should save your strength -- I can call Yoshimasa and Yoshihira --"
"Guren," Seimei cuts in. "Guren, listen to me. There's something you've forgotten, something everyone's forgotten, that you need to know."
"Seimei, this isn't the time for something like this--"
Abruptly, Seimei's fingers clamp around his fist, and for a moment there is a strength like iron in his hold. "Listen to me," he says. "Guren! Have you truly forgotten your light?"
"My ... light?" Guren stares. "Seimei--"
"Twenty years ago," Seimei rasps, "twenty years ago, Yoshimasa and Tsuyuki had a third son. Do you remember his name, Guren?"
Guren frowns, tries to shift his master to a more comfortable position, to ease the rough sound of his breathing. "I remember Tsuyuki being pregnant a third time," he says slowly. "But the child was stillborn, wasn't it? That was years ago, Seimei, why does it--"
"His name, Guren," Seimei says, and for a moment, his eyes are bright as they have ever been. "Do you remember his name?"
"His name?" Guren echoes. His brow furrows. "Why would they name a stillborn child?"
"Of all people, I'd hoped you would remember, eventually," Seimei whispers. He closes his eyes. "Ahh, I'm tired now ..."
Panic reforms itself abruptly, like a slap across the face. "Seimei!" Guren says sharply, and gives him the strongest shake he dares. He looks around wildly, aware of how alone they are; not even Rikugou is nearby -- he has taken to watching over the fostered princess more often as Seimei's strength failed him. "Seimei, hang in there! Wait for your sons, at least, you can't--"
A faint smile touches Seimei's lips, though he doesn't open his eyes. "You'll have till nightfall," he says. "That's enough time, isn't it?"
Guren draws in a sharp breath, but just eases Seimei back down and steps back. Looking down at his master now, he can see the bones outlined under paper-thin skin; the smell of decay has already become familiar. "Seimei ..."
"Hurry, Guren," Seimei says, still smiling. "I haven't got that much time."
Guren bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood, then spins on his heel and leaves the room.
+++
Dokun.
A memory -- a dream?
"Humans are fragile, aren't they ..."
Dokun.
"Did you know? The sun is very, very kind, and it loves the people of the earth. It turns the sky red in the evening so that everyone will know that it'll soon be time to rest. Your eyes are that same color, aren't they?"
Dokun.
"It's all right. It's over. You don't have to remember the painful things ... so please, come back ..."
Dokun.
There was a name he wouldn't forget, couldn't forget, didn't want to forget ...
But no matter how hard he thought, there was nothing.
Dokun.
+++
"Poor thing," Ibaragi says with mock-sympathy, as the god's screams taper into hoarse gasping. "He hadn't even realized how much he'd forgotten. The old fox was clever in how he laid his memory-traps." She lowers her shamisen at last. Her eyes are coy when she peers up at Raikou through the fall of her hair. "Perhaps he could use some comforting, boy."
Raikou grins, all teeth. "Perhaps he does," he says, and reaches for the door. "Why don't I go see?"
+++
As expected, the Seimei Jinja stinks of onmyoudou seals and spells. Haruka lands outside the grounds, letting Kantarou slide from his back, and looks distrustfully at the low open buildings. Kantarou, on the other hand, adjusts his clothes and walks straight up to the place, mingling easily with the thin crowd of sightseers. He makes it to the gate before he looks over his shoulder, and his expression is meaningful -- he won't use Haruka's name for this, but he expects to be followed still. For just a moment he considers refusing -- even from where he stands, his skin crawls with the residue of old, powerful spells that still linger after so many years, and a part of him wants to go no closer.
Kantarou looks at him expectantly, head tilted just so. He shifts his weight like he might lift a hand, but ultimately all he does is wait.
Haruka sighs once, and goes to follow.
An unpleasant chill goes through him as he crosses over the boundaries of the old barrier and grows into a faint sense of nausea. Long ago, the protections had been drawn to prevent even the most powerful youkai from crossing, and while they'd lost much of their strength and structure with the death of their master, the spell's instinct could still recognize him as "other." He walks closer to Kantarou than he normally would and keeps his head lowered, though he keeps an eye on their surroundings with narrow eyes. Most of the people here don't even recognize the power here -- to most of them, it's nothing more than a piece of history, something they can take vague national pride in; the reality of it means nothing to them.
Kantarou, on the other hand, walks softly and on a very particular path. His red eyes are misty: he cannot see the shrine as the estate it once was, but he understands, he respects. His posture is unassuming and very different from his usual confidence -- or even the false embarrassment he sometimes effects. After a moment he looks up at Haruka and blinks his eyes clear before he says, "It's a sad place, isn't it?"
Haruka grunts. He glances away until Kantarou catches his sleeve and tugs.
"Over there," he adds, pointing. "That's the tree where the god lived in."
No one seems to notice as they make their way over -- the tree stands over a deep pond, solid and unbending, solidly a piece of the landscape. It reminds Haruka of his mother, and he reaches out in spite of himself, laying his palm against the rough scaled bark. Kantarou, on the other hand, picks his way around the girth of the tree, prodding around the roots. Eventually he drops to his hands and knees, peering down.
"Hello?" he says. He keeps his voice low, though they're away from the rest of the crowd, who seem preoccupied by examining the interior shrine. "Hello, would you mind answering a few questions for me?"
Haruka cranes his neck to look. He sees something round and bright pink, hiding in the shadows of the roots. Kantarou sits back on his heels. "Please," he adds. "You were here when Touda-sama was taken, right? Some of your friends came by to ask for my help -- ahh, I know I'm not an onmyouji, but I'm pretty good in a pinch ..."
The pink thing quivers.
"Youkai-kun?" Kantarou's voice gentles further. "I'd like to help."
Another shiver, but the youkai turns -- it's a round little thing, with eyes set on its body and two stubby flipperlike arms, and it blinks its beady black eyes at Kantarou, as though trying to recognize his face.
"Ah," it says. "You're here with the Oni-Eater! The Oni-Eating Tengu!"
Kantarou smiles then, switching immediately to a brilliantly charming smile. "Ah, don't worry about him. I promise he won't hurt you."
"Ehhh--"
"He won't," Kantarou repeats. He glances up with another quick smile. "Right, Haruka?"
There's no mistaking the stress he puts on the name. Haruka grits his teeth, but the youkai's eyes go about as wide as they can, its mouth rounding as well. But it seems to be enough to win the thing's trust for now, because it scrambles out of its little den, waddling out into the sunlight. "You're really here to help?" it asks.
"In any way I can," Kantarou promises. He puts a hand over his heart, looking entirely earnest and sincere -- it's the sort of look that has conned even those who know better into believing him. Haruka rolls his eyes, and then again when the little youkai squeaks appreciatively. It waddles up to Kantarou's knee, and being too short to actually climb up, rocks back to look at him.
"The others left a long time ago," it says. "Right after Seimei died. Only the one Shinshou stayed, but he never talked to anyone. It's too bad, he used to be really friendly."
"Friendly? Even with a reputation like that?" Kantarou leans down a little -- there's no way he can be completely on eye-level with it, but he moves closer.
"It's 'cause he forgot the grandson!" another voice squawks, its voice gravelly. From a different part of the tree, a lizard-shaped youkai comes slithering out, rising up onto its hind legs. "They were always, always together and then one day the grandson was alone."
"Right, right," says pink-and-round. "And even when he was smiling, the grandson looked like he wanted to cry instead!"
"But then one day the Shinshou came back, and the grandson didn't," the lizard says. "And everyone acted like the grandson never existed! Even the princess!"
"Ahhhh," pink-and-round sighs. "And I really thought they'd get married, too ..."
"Seimei remembered, though!" says a third voice. Haruka sees Kantarou wince briefly, a moment before a very small oni drops down from the tree branches overhead. "Even when everyone else forgot, he remembered! And so did we!"
"Right, right," says pink-and-round. "And then he'd sometimes talk to us about the grandson! But the Shinshou never listened, so I guess he never remembered."
"It was a shame, a real shame," the lizard says, crossing its stubby forelegs like arms and nodding its head. "He was very young and had a lot of promise, but ..."
"In the end, a grandson's always a grandson, isn't he!"
"Er," Kantarou cuts in, not quite hesitantly, and waits for all three youkai to look at him. "If you don't mind -- grandson? Abe no Seimei's grandson?"
"He had three," says the oni. "The third one was always together with the Shinshou -- it traveled with him as a shikigami."
"Seimei was always proud of that grandson," says pink-and-round. "He would have been Seimei's successor! He always worked really hard at it! But ..."
All three turn their heads now, their chatter stilled; a faint breeze rustling in the branches overhead is the only noise. Even the voices of the other humans, wandering through the main part of the shrine, are very far away. Kantarou sits back, his hands folded on his lap, his eyes already dark with sympathy. Haruka feels less than pity; the death of one human isn't more or less spectacular than any other -- and in the end, Abe no Seimei and his would-be successor were both onmyouji. The thought makes his skin crawl.
"Seimei tried to explain, once," the lizard says finally. "What the grandson did. He traded his life for the Shinshou, but he didn't want to make anyone sad because he was gone, so ..."
"Even the princess didn't remember him," says pink-and-round, subdued. "She was never happy after that, either."
When they fall silent again, Haruka gives it a few minutes before he says, "Then what happened when the Shinshou got taken?"
"--Haruka!" Kantarou frowns at him. "Can't you be a little more respectful, honestly--"
"Humans die all the time," Haruka says. "From the sounds of it, this one did so willingly. In that case, it was his decision, and complaining about it makes it worth less." He leans his shoulder against the tree trunk, looking down at the three youkai at his feet. "You three were here the night it happened, right? So tell us."
Kantarou sighs loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ahh, Haruka's so crude," he mourns. "He can't say anything delicately, can he ..."
Haruka's eyebrow twitches. "You're the last person who can say that," he says. "What happened?"
"Um, um, well," says pink-and-round, spreading its flipper arms wide. "There was a fight! A human came with an oni--"
"No, no, she stayed outside," the lizard corrects. "Remember? She stayed outside and played music."
Kantarou chokes; his eyes go wide and his face goes paler than normal, and Haruka can already imagine the panic his master is working up to -- but then Kantarou lets out his breath in a slow hiss, visibly calming himself. "An oni, you say. One who played music?"
"A shamisen!" the smaller oni agrees. "Ahh, it was nostalgic, really! We haven't heard anything like that in years ..."
"Did you see the oni?" Kantarou asks. "Or the human that came with her?"
"Not the oni," says pink-and-round, "but we saw the human!"
"It would've been hard to miss him!"
"They had a really great battle, right here!" The lizard points. "The human who came here and the Shinshou! The oni did something that make it go away afterwards, so no one's noticed yet, but--"
"So what did he look like?" Haruka cuts in, not quite irritated yet; he doesn't like the growing uneasiness in Kantarou's expression, though at this point, the person targeting a god seems pretty obvious. "We know they fought, and the Shinshou lost. What did the human look like?"
"... He wasn't that old," the small oni offers finally.
"Really young, actually!" says pink-and-round. "Not as young as the grandson was, but still very young! I was really surprised!"
"He wore a uniform like a soldier," the lizard adds. White film blinks over its round eyes for a moment, a quick nervous gesture. "He used a sword that he was awfully proud of." It looks to the others for confirmation, then nods again. "He called the Shinshou by name, and they fought. It was over really fast."
"It's been a long time since the Shinshou fought anything, though," pink-and-round says. "He probably just lost his edge. If the grandson were around, then --"
Kantarou rocks back. He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a small wrapped package -- Youko's homemade mochi, from the batch bullied out of her before they left the house -- and this he lays in front of the three youkai before getting to his feet. He smiles brightly, though Haruka can see the strain at the corners of his mouth and eyes. "Thank you," he tells them, and inclines his head. "You've all been a lot of help. This person sounds familiar -- we should be able to find him."
The oni cocks its head at him, as though sizing him up now, finally. "Will you be able to help him, though?" it asks. "The Shinshou?"
Kantarou hesitates. Haruka can hear the half-formed obfuscation that hang to the tip of his tongue, just as he knows they won't actually come; Kantarou's inherent selfishness always wavers when someone asks. For being a sly cold-blooded man, he can be terribly weak sometimes.
He watches Kantarou make a show of tucking his hands into his sleeves, shift his weight, all like he might refuse, but when he speaks, his voice is quiet and firm: "I'd like very much to try."
+++
"So you remember now?" Raikou sits with one hip hitched up on the edge of the table, a box of chocolates balanced on his knee. He appears to be fascinated by his selection rather than the god's bowed head, the slump of broad shoulders. "Ibaragi's very good at that, isn't she? She gave my ancestors quite a turn before they caught her -- ah." He picks a chocolate up between thumb and forefinger and pops it into his mouth.
Touda says nothing, but the sound of his breathing is very loud.
"So you forgot," Raikou goes on, licking melted chocolate from his fingers. "You shouldn't feel so guilty for that, you know. If your master tells you 'forget,' what can you do but obey?"
He's answered by a sharp hiss of breath. He pauses with his fingers on his mouth, then slides off the table, walking forward, until he's within arm's reach of the bound god.
"It wasn't just you," he says. "Everyone forgot him. Even his own parents forgot their last child, how pitiful. Who would have believed that an actual heir to Abe no Seimei existed? Especially in this day and age, where everything's been reduced to fairytales and tavern stories." He reaches out and lays his palm gently against Touda's cheek, turning it up for a better look. The god is flushed and sweat dots his brow, but his eyes are clear and bright, most of their cobwebs swept away.
"Poor thing," Raikou adds. "This world hasn't been very kind to your sort."
Touda stares at him for a moment, mouth hanging open, his fangs just barely visible. "... Before," he says, his voice rough, "before, when you made that ... that offer of yours ..."
"Hmm?" Raikou presses his thumb to the other's chin; the skin there is smoothly textured, like fine-grained snake scales. "Ah, yes, about my nue and her abilities?"
"You weren't talking about Seimei, were you." Touda stares without blinking. "You said yourself, everyone forgot, so how did you --"
"Tch," Raikou says. "And have you already forgotten who recovered those memories for you?" He waves his free hand towards the door; Ibaragi hasn't started playing again, but her presence still remains close. "And Abe no Seimei himself certainly never forgot the grandson that would have been his heir."
"You--" Touda's eyes go wide. "Seimei was--"
"Ah, don't make such a face," Raikou drawls, and lets go, though he draws his fingers across Touda's cheek in a caress as he moves back. Like a professor at lecture, he begins to pace back and forth across the width of the room. "Did you never think to read the old man's diaries after he died? No, of course not, that would be overstepping your boundaries as his servant. But in the last years of his life, having outlived the most precious and beloved of his grandchildren, having erased all traces of that child's existence from the world, who else could he turn to?" He turns and holds up a finger, smiling.
"Seimei ... he ..." Touda's shoulders slump further.
Raikou wanders back to the table and selects another chocolate, which he eats in several small bites as he watches the god sink into silence. Eventually, he says, "My offer from before still stands."
"Eh?"
"The master you seek," Raikou says. "Even now, you can't remember his name, can you?"
Touda's eyes go wide and his mouth falls open. Raikou begins to pace again, this time in a circle around the chair where the god is bound. "I can call his soul back without disrupting the balance between this world and the next. I can bring him back to you, and give you the time that was stolen. And ..." He stops behind Touda and puts his hands on the head of the chair, close enough that his fingers are almost -- but not quite -- brushing bare skin. He leans forward, his cheek to tousled red hair. It smells of smoke and incense, and Raikou breathes deep, smiling.
"... I can tell you what his name was."
+++
As they fly back home, Kantarou keeps his cheek pressed to Haruka's shoulder, eyes squinted against the rush of wind. Haruka seems content enough to remain silent, even more than usual -- his body is still wire tense, and Kantarou knows that if they stopped, he would be able to feel trembling. He himself is impressed at how much power still lingers at the Seimei Jinja, and to a youkai old and powerful as Haruka, one who hated onmyoudou for reasons he no longer remembered ...
Kantarou shifts a little, lifting his face to the wind.
Historically, Abe no Seimei had left family behind, though none that could match his power in its prime. The greatest shame of his otherwise impressive life had been that he'd never discovered someone to be his heir, whether of his own family or without.
As they pass over a set of tall mountains, however, Kantarou opens his eyes and catches at the back of Haruka's shirt, tugging. "Haruka," he says. "Haruka, let's go down there." He points.
Haruka glances back. "The mountains?"
Kantarou draws himself up and leans over, so far that Haruka swerves a little to adjust for the shift in weight. "Historically, Abe no Seimei worked a lot of his greater spells through prayers to the dragon-god of Kifune," Kantarou says. "I just want to have a look."
"It's not our business," Haruka says, though his wings flare, and they start heading down. "At this point, we're going to get more involved in things that aren't our concern."
"It will be soon, though." Kantarou's fingers knot at Haruka's shoulders. "Minamoto's already gone this far, and if he's going to try and turn Touda-sama against us, Haruka--"
Haruka snorts. "Gods aren't as impressive as that," he says. "Besides, he'll probably be limited. That Minamoto brat is crazy, but he knows better than to not keep a leash on something powerful." His wings snap out to catch the last draft and let them glide the rest of the way down; Kantarou remains holding on for a moment, his arms around Haruka's neck, then lets go and slides to the ground. The air of Kifune is still and pure, and he takes a moment to close his eyes and breathe deep. Haruka says nothing, but some of the tension in him eases as well.
When Kantarou opens his eyes again, he fixes them on an overgrown path and squares his shoulders. "Let's go," he says, and as he starts making his way up, he hears Haruka fall into step behind him. They eventually pass the shrine itself, still in relatively good condition. Kantarou ignores it, wading through the underbrush -- he has never been here before, but he knows the stories, and the holy places of Kifune glow bright as the sun, for those who can see.
Eventually they reach a clearing with a deep bubbling spring, where the grass grows knee-high and thick. He pauses at the entrance and takes a deep breath; the god has already noticed him, and its detached interest sweeps past him easily, fixing on Haruka and lingering. The wind rustles with the sound of a woman's laughter.
Then, says the dragon-god of Kifune, what would bring the Oni-Eating Tengu to this place? So close to Mt. Kurama, and yet not quite the same. Surely your sense of direction hasn't been ruined after you were sealed?
Haruka snorts rudely. "Hardly," he says. "I'm here because of him." He jerks a thumb at Kantarou, who perks up a little, though the god still has not chosen to show herself.
Oh? Another human, then. You have bad luck with those, don't you?
"He unsealed me," Haruka says. "I owe him for it." Even as he says it, he moves closer to his master, so that his arm brushes a long white sleeve. Kantarou watches him look straight at the spring, where Takaokami no Kami is not visible but is coiled and curled, her bulk spilling out and yet still concentrated in that single place. Her presence feels like cool water, more an impression than actual touch, deep under his skin and straight into his heart. He holds still under that regard and breathes slowly.
Owe him, says the dragon-god. She doesn't laugh, but there's a definite impression of amusement. This from a tengu! And from you of all tengu, who would not bow your head even to your king!
Kantarou glances up; Haruka's face is still impassive, but he moves closer and tilts his head up. "It was my own choice," he says. "That's the difference, isn't it?"
There's a ripple of movement and a brief impression of something lifting its head; for a moment, Kantarou can see her eyes, piercing bright blue, looking straight through him. He locks his knees to keep from falling, and feels the brush of a hand against his back.
Oh, I see, says the dragon-god. It's like that, isn't it? A loyalty given willingly to a human child. There's a brief chiming noise, like distant bells, and then there is a woman standing in the water, arms folded under her breasts and an enigmatic smile. "I knew another like you, once. He never realized just how lucky a creature he was."
Haruka snorts. "It's hardly a 'lucky' thing," he says, "to be bound to a human like this."
"And there you are." Takaokami no Kami steps out of her spring without disturbing any of the waters. Her bare feet are dry against the grass. "With a human by your side, your wings bound by a human's name. Yet you're not unhappy."
He blinks again, mild, which means he's warming up to being annoyed. "I'm used to it," he says, the same thing he told Minamoto just a short while before. "It's not a bad life, and I'm used to it. But it's still not really a 'lucky' thing. I might have disliked it."
"Haruka," Kantarou says softly.
Haruka glances at him, then snorts at whatever look is on his face. "I told you that, didn't I? Don't look so worried, it's irritating."
In spite of himself he smiles. When he looks back, he finds that the dragon-god is looking straight at him, her blue eyes piercing. He lifts his chin a little and stares back -- he's dealt with gods before, he lives with a youkai legend; he's used to the staggering weight.
Finally she blinks. One corner of her mouth quirks. "Human child," she says, "I don't think you came here to simply pay your respects."
He smiles again, wryly, and spreads his hands in supplication. "I came to ask some questions," he says. "I don't have anything to offer in return."
"Ask, then," says Takaokami no Kami. "And I will decide whether they're worth my time."
[[CONTINUED IN PART 2]]