Technoshamanism [Mononoke, PG-13]
Technoshamanism
Mononoke // Medicine Seller/Kayo!incarnation, PG-13ish
3423 words
mononoke_anime's fic/art 'thon #1. Prompt: Our favourite apothecary in the modern world.
“Sayu-chan, come on, let me do it...” Eiko waved the scissors closer to Sayuri’s face, making a pleading face. “They’re just so long.”
Sayuri shrunk away from the scissors, staring. “No! Just--no. Not here. Not on the train,” she hissed, trying to keep the other passengers from overhearing. “It’s bad enough that I’m here.”
Eiko gave her a wounded look. “It’s because you love me, Sayu-chan. And tonight’ll be the last time, I swear. Tonight he’ll do it for sure.” She looked away, holding her little scissors close, and for just a second she looked so genuinely cliché-lovesick that Sayuri swallowed back her reply and just grumbled to herself. Three weeks in a row of dancing until dawn--two nights of the week, even--were starting to hurt. She was running out of money, and she would be running out of a job soon if she didn’t stop coming in looking half-dead. Not even lazy secretaries, her boss had said coolly, could sleep on the job more than once every couple of weeks. But Eiko had taken her shopping and found these shoes in Sayuri’s size, in Sayuri’s color, that were to die for--a dirty trick--and then she’d given Sayuri a pretty little carved hairstick with a design on it that looked like something you’d find on a real kanzashi...
So now she was on the train in her new to-die-for heels, her hair braided and pinned up with her bribe of a hairstick, trying to convince Eiko to stop trying to cut her bangs, as they went to meet Eiko’s biggest-crush-ever, Keiichiro.
“Oh, come on,” Eiko sighed, giving up and sliding her scissors back into her purse. She took out her mirror and eyed her reflection, blinking her painted eyes and brushing at the iridescent blush on her cheeks. “It’s not just gonna be me and Kei and you. I wouldn’t do that to you. Koji’ll be there, remember? He’s cute.”
“But I don’t like Koji,” Sayuri muttered, resisting the urge to take out her own mirror. “He’s creepy. And touchy. And he’s into sketchy things.”
“Just tonight?” Eiko said, giving her an oh please look. “It’s not like you have to go home with him or anything. Just hang out? I promise we’ll take the first train of the morning home.”
“Fine,” Sayuri said, averting her eyes. Fine, fine, fine. She stopped complaining and shut her mouth against all the protests that threatened to spill over. When they got to the station, she followed Eiko’s nervous energy all over until it lit upon their targets: Kei, who was actually pretty good-looking with this charming crooked grin and yeah, she was jealous of Eiko as she watched them do their intricate little shy sidestepping and furtive touches. And Koji, who...okay, cute, with this great hair, but he looked at her like he was the creepiest thing that ever lived, and she glared and told him to back off before he could do anything. He gave her a smug, leering look and walked way too close to her, but she tried to ignore him.
“Ooh, Kei, who...?” Eiko tugged at Kei’s sleeve as they walked past brightly-lit storefronts, and it was obvious from her face that she didn’t care how he answered, so long as he talked.
“Oh, that’s the new guy.” Kei nodded in the direction of the corner alley, rubbing a hand through his hair and leaving an attractive rumpled look in his wake. “I think he sells charms and stuff to tourists, along with some other stuff, if you know what I mean. Has some amazing shit, or so, you know, they tell me.” Eiko gave a pealing laugh and put her fingers to her mouth, her nails glittering in the neon light. Sayuri rolled her eyes as Eiko asked how could Kei-chan know, he wasn’t into that, was he? Not really, was he? and she opened her mouth to change the topic, to ask how much further were they going to have to walk, and then she saw the lingering look Kei was giving that slender, shadowed alley, and she threw a quick look over her shoulder. There, where two goths were slumping past: a narrow shoulder against filthy brick and clothes streaked with both color and dirt.
He turned, and Sayuri caught her breath, forgetting her quick glance as he lifted his face to the harsh light of the signs overhead. His skin was ashen and tinged with an unhealthy bluish color, shadowy eyes peering from behind knotted, dirty-looking hair. He wore makeup like a nightmare, scarlet slashed over his eyes and down his nose like wounds. His lips were painted into a small, coy smile, shaded to match the ragged purple scarf wrapped around his head. His clothes hung off the sharp angles of his bony frame, knobby wrists and jutting collarbones, but exposed to the night air, the nape of his neck was delicate and pale like some geisha-cliché.
Koji stopped dead and gave a little laugh. “Man, I thought I’d seen the worst. There’s no limit to how fucked up people can get.” He tugged at one of Sayuri’s braids. “C’mon, Sayu, that’s just what happens when people get up on their own drugs. Don’t be afraid.” He sneered this last, and she glared at him, swatting away his hand.
“Shut up,” she snapped, and they all laughed and kept walking with the direction of the sidewalk’s traffic, Eiko chattering away and making eyes at Kei like it was the end of the world. Sayuri kept her eyes on her feet as she walked, one-two-three steps, and then she raised her head and looked again, and she squarely met the eyes of the drug dealer across the street. She jumped and stumbled into Eiko, and as Eiko gave a little shriek, Sayuri saw the drug dealer give a curl of his violet-painted lips and a slow blink of his red-slashed eyes, and as he spread his hands in a welcome gesture, he said something, his lips moving silently--
“Sayu-chan!” Eiko was pouting, her lips twisted up. “What’s wrong with you tonight? You wanna go home, or something? You sick?” She planted her hands on her hips and leaned forward, cocking her head to the side. All four of them had stopped, people pushing past them and giving them faintly irritated looks.
Sayuri blinked at her. “I’m--no.” She gave a nervous laugh, waving her hand. “I’m fine, he just--” she glanced over at the alley, but it was empty, “it’s just--”
“You don’t wanna go dancing, is that it?” A flash of panic passed over Eiko’s face, and she made her eyes huge and gave Sayuri a puppy-look. “You don’t wanna hang out with us?”
Sayuri took a steadying breath. “Of course I do,” she said, gritting her teeth into a smile. “I just wanna get there.” Eiko saw the look and gave her a quick, desperate smile, grabbing her hand and walking a little faster, their skirts flaring around their knees. Sayuri stumbled a little in her new shoes, and Eiko pulled her up with a squeal to hurry hurry ‘cos you wanted to go. They pulled ahead of the boys, giggling, and Kei and Koji caught up at the door of the club, where Eiko dissolved into laughter as Kei grabbed her, and he was laughing, too. Koji looked like he wanted to do something similar to Sayuri, but she gave him a fierce glare and raised an elbow threateningly.
As they were shoving their things into one of the club’s lockers, Eiko whispered apologies and thanks, bobbing her head fervently with each one, but Sayuri could see her impatience, the looks she kept darting back to where the boys were waiting, and so she just grabbed Eiko’s hand and wished her friend luck. Eiko beamed at her and tugged at her, pulling her closer to the deep thump of the main floor’s speakers that beat like a giant, alien heart.
The lightshow skated violet lightning across the club, and bodies moved en masse to the thundering bass. The crowd shifted like the ocean, humming energy rolling out in waves. Everyone bounced on the balls of their feet, hands raised in the air. The air was damp with heat and sweat, cut through with flickering neon light.
Eiko grabbed Sayuri’s hand and dove into the crowd, slipping neatly between shoulders and elbows. Above them was the DJ, headphones cocked back on sweaty hair; his fingers slid over the turntables and he swayed to the deep house beat. Eiko was already moving to the music, the light flashing blue and red across her sparkled cheeks, and she pulled Sayuri in for just a second. She yelled something close to Sayuri’s ear that got lost in the sound, that was just breath against Sayuri’s neck and a squeezing tug at her hand. Laughing, Eiko did a little spin and let go, drifting until Kei’s hand slid around her waist. She smiled and leaned against him, and when he ducked his head and gave her a kiss, Sayuri looked away.
She slipped into the easy sway of the people immediately next to her and let herself move away from Eiko and Kei, resolutely closing her eyes. Hands that burned like fire slid around her waist, and she jumped, her elbow connecting with something solid. Koji came into view, a weird look on his face as he rubbed at his jaw, and she gave him an emphatic glare and shook her head. He tossed his hair to make it fall over his forehead in a way that he must have known was attractive and gave her a bedroom-eyed look. She shook her head sharply, mouthing no, and he scowled and moved away from her and closer to Eiko and Kei.
The light shuddered and skipped, the deep pulse lessening as the music split into an overload of ambient noise. Everything slowed down to half-second frames, successive shots that told a story. Eiko with Kei’s tongue in her mouth, their hands spreading scorching heat. Koji ignoring her, leaning in close to another girl, his hand on the small of her back. Sayuri’s own hands tucking back her hair and reaching out like she was going to push between the dancers beside her and leave. Her ridiculous, expensive shoes catching on each other and sending her ankle and all her weight the wrong way. And then a cold hand on hers, bony fingers wrapping around her wrist to catch her, and the music crescendoed and burst like a firework as the bass worked back to full intensity, and she was staring at the drug dealer from outside as he held her hand.
The dancers beside them jostled her, and she stumbled again, this time falling against his chest. She flushed darkly and tried to move away, but he looked at her and smiled, pulling on her wrist, and the bone-deep beat made it seem like they were dancing. He looked...okay, up close, he looked kind of nauseous actually, with those shadows under his eyes and violet-blue veins roping over his hands, and the club’s frenzied lighting. But kind of exotic-strange, too, with his long eyelashes and odds and ends woven into his tangled hair, and his clothes--a dark red or violet sash wrapped over a tattered haori and a weird kimono-style top. A scent like old, spicy incense... Sayuri blushed again to realize she was smelling him, so hard her face hurt, and she shook off his skinny fingers, giving him an apologetic smile and a wave of her hand.
He reached forward again, long nails like claws, and before she could move, his fingers were curling around the back of her neck and he was pulling her close and his breath against her cheek-- She gave a little shriek and struggled, but he didn’t try to kiss her. Her nose was almost touching the pale line of his neck, his hair--which, okay, maybe not that dirty--against her face, and her pulse was roaring so loudly that it took a few seconds to realize his lips were against her ear and he speaking to her.
“Be careful,” he was saying, his voice so purring and low that she could hardly understand him, and then he released her, brushing his lips against her cheek. He stepped away, leaving her frozen in the press of sweat and heat, pushed back by elbows and shoulders.
She stared after him, her hand on her cheek, and he smiled at her again. She blinked and tried to shove her away between two bodies, yelling, “Wait! Wait--” but he turned away, and she was thrust back, and he was gone. She stared after him for a long moment, her fingers tracing those lines of contact at her cheek, her neck, her ear, and she could feel her cheeks burn. Be careful. She swallowed and started pushing her way through the throng of dancers, back in a general Eiko-direction.
The lights flashed violet and blue, moving over her like washes of current, and when she finally fought her way back to Eiko, she was seeing jerky orange-red afterimages everywhere. Eiko had her fingers knotted in Kei’s hair, and his hand was creeping up her shirt. Giving an exasperated sigh, Sayuri jerked at Eiko’s arm, yelling over the noise, “Ei-chan! Time to go!”
Eiko pulled away and gave her a dreamy look. “What?”
“Something’s weird. We need to go!”
“What?” Eiko was shouting, her brow furrowed, and she mimed deafness, gesturing at her ear. With a seismic boom, the techno’s bass fell quiet, and with the breakdown of the song came the strobe lights; again, time slowed to freeze-frames of Eiko’s puzzled face, Kei distracted and impatient, and all those people around them frozen in feverish movement.
“I said--” Sayuri glanced over her shoulder and lost her train of thought as her eyes focused across the club. She could see him again, that drug dealer, and he must have been high or just tripped out on something very, very dangerous, because he had climbed to some precarious perch by one of the room’s support pillars that left him about three feet over everyone’s heads, and he was looking up intently. The light flickered over him, shuddering across his skin and he was all white on blue on red on violet and flash--he with his arms spread like a dancer or a bird--and something in his hand, something that glittered and shone and Sayuri thought she could hear a bell and she was too far away to tell but she would have bet money he was smiling--and then he turned and started to fall and he was gone, winked out in an instant.
and there was something golden and all silvery fluid movement pouring from one second to the next, jerking forward with the strobe light, and there was the scent of something hot and burning and ozone and Sayuri felt very, very dizzy. There was a sound like shrill, inhuman laughter and she saw a hulking darkness rear up, the shadows collecting and arching back to strike like a snake and in the shuddering light there was this golden man-shaped thing falling toward the darkness, a blade like stars and heat in his shining hands. Time jerked with the strobe and light and darkness met, that sword plunging deep into the shadows and
There was a blast of scorching heat as the light blew, fountaining sparks over the crowd, and the scent of electrical smoke was threaded through the air. There were a few screams, and far above, the sprinklers cut on. The dancers cheered, like it was all part of the show. The DJ gave the sputtering light and the plastic awning over his equipment an alarmed look, and then he grinned at the crowd and turned up the bass and pumped his fist in the air. The other lights kicked in again, pouring green and violet over the crowd, refracting through the mist of water from the sprinklers, and they all danced on. Sayuri jumped when a stray spark hit her arm, and she turned to Eiko and Kei, her brow furrowed. “Did you see that--the light--”
Eiko laughed and shouted over the music, “You must be super-tired, Sayu-chan. Of course I saw that.” She smiled up at Kei and he gave her a tolerant look. Eiko leaned against him and reached for Sayuri’s hand where she was still touching her neck. “You’d better go sit down or something, okay? You don’t look so good.” She belatedly shaded her eyes from the sprinklers, her eyeliner already beginning to run, and gave Sayuri an impatient look.
“Okay,” Sayuri heard herself say. “Yeah. I’ll do that.” She turned away and ran blindly, pushing her way back toward the doors. As she struggled through the crowd, she scanned faces around her and saw people laughing, confused, blissed out...not what she wanted. Not was she was looking for. She felt her makeup drip down her face, her hair coming undone and falling in her face, and her shoes slid on the wet floor. And then she focused again, catching a glimpse through a gap between two dancers, of him slipping out the exit, the wet tails of his headscarf hanging limply down his back.
She grimly pushed her way out of the crowd and ran down the corridor, the lightshow following her and painting the way in red and gold until she turned the corner and burst through the doors to the street, and there he was, walking away from her and leaving slightly damp footprints on the sidewalk behind him.
“What was that?” she said breathlessly, holding a little stitch in her side and shivering in the night air.
He stopped before he was out of the club’s entranceway, before he could melt into the sidewalk traffic, and inclined his head to look at her through his hair. “What was which?” he said softly.
Sayuri drew a helpless breath. “That. That thing. What was that?”
The drug dealer smiled a little, and he turned to face her. “There was,” he said, “a woman...long ago.” He brought two fingers up and wiped at the water beaded on his face, and his makeup smeared across his cheek like fresh blood. He looked at his fingers and let his hand drop, and then raised his heavy-lidded eyes to meet Sayuri’s again. “A remnant,” he said softly. “Nothing more.” He tucked his pale, thin hands into his sleeves and bowed, his wet hair falling into his face. “Please take care.”
As he straightened and turned away, Sayuri bit her lip and called, “Wait.” He stopped again and she took a step forward, her heels loud against the pavement. “I’d...I’d like to buy a charm, please.” She stared at her feet and blushed, her hands twisting in the fabric of her wet skirt. His soft-soled shoes didn’t make a sound, and she jumped when they came into view, startled into looking up.
With a delicate turn of his wrist, he reached into the folds of his haori and pulled out a charm: a pretty little handcrafted thing of patterned paper and a chiming bell. He held out his free hand palm-up, and after a few seconds, she nervously raised hers. With a patient smile, he took her wrist, turned her hand up, and pressed the charm against her palm, his fingers sickly pale against her skin. “No charge,” he said softly.
“But--”
“You do not have your money,” he said, giving her an amused look, and she gasped an oh, giving a reflexive look around, as if she had just dropped her purse. He released her hand and turned away again. “It will work if you trust it.” She peered at the charm--not even wet, somehow--and traced the paper’s gold designs over pink clouds and snowy-white cranes. The bell was cold against her skin. She raised her face to thank him, that wretched blush still burning away at her face, but he was gone, and there was only the milling crowd of a very late night.
She bowed anyway, the charm held close to her chest, her heart pounding in her ears.
Mononoke // Medicine Seller/Kayo!incarnation, PG-13ish
3423 words
mononoke_anime's fic/art 'thon #1. Prompt: Our favourite apothecary in the modern world.
“Sayu-chan, come on, let me do it...” Eiko waved the scissors closer to Sayuri’s face, making a pleading face. “They’re just so long.”
Sayuri shrunk away from the scissors, staring. “No! Just--no. Not here. Not on the train,” she hissed, trying to keep the other passengers from overhearing. “It’s bad enough that I’m here.”
Eiko gave her a wounded look. “It’s because you love me, Sayu-chan. And tonight’ll be the last time, I swear. Tonight he’ll do it for sure.” She looked away, holding her little scissors close, and for just a second she looked so genuinely cliché-lovesick that Sayuri swallowed back her reply and just grumbled to herself. Three weeks in a row of dancing until dawn--two nights of the week, even--were starting to hurt. She was running out of money, and she would be running out of a job soon if she didn’t stop coming in looking half-dead. Not even lazy secretaries, her boss had said coolly, could sleep on the job more than once every couple of weeks. But Eiko had taken her shopping and found these shoes in Sayuri’s size, in Sayuri’s color, that were to die for--a dirty trick--and then she’d given Sayuri a pretty little carved hairstick with a design on it that looked like something you’d find on a real kanzashi...
So now she was on the train in her new to-die-for heels, her hair braided and pinned up with her bribe of a hairstick, trying to convince Eiko to stop trying to cut her bangs, as they went to meet Eiko’s biggest-crush-ever, Keiichiro.
“Oh, come on,” Eiko sighed, giving up and sliding her scissors back into her purse. She took out her mirror and eyed her reflection, blinking her painted eyes and brushing at the iridescent blush on her cheeks. “It’s not just gonna be me and Kei and you. I wouldn’t do that to you. Koji’ll be there, remember? He’s cute.”
“But I don’t like Koji,” Sayuri muttered, resisting the urge to take out her own mirror. “He’s creepy. And touchy. And he’s into sketchy things.”
“Just tonight?” Eiko said, giving her an oh please look. “It’s not like you have to go home with him or anything. Just hang out? I promise we’ll take the first train of the morning home.”
“Fine,” Sayuri said, averting her eyes. Fine, fine, fine. She stopped complaining and shut her mouth against all the protests that threatened to spill over. When they got to the station, she followed Eiko’s nervous energy all over until it lit upon their targets: Kei, who was actually pretty good-looking with this charming crooked grin and yeah, she was jealous of Eiko as she watched them do their intricate little shy sidestepping and furtive touches. And Koji, who...okay, cute, with this great hair, but he looked at her like he was the creepiest thing that ever lived, and she glared and told him to back off before he could do anything. He gave her a smug, leering look and walked way too close to her, but she tried to ignore him.
“Ooh, Kei, who...?” Eiko tugged at Kei’s sleeve as they walked past brightly-lit storefronts, and it was obvious from her face that she didn’t care how he answered, so long as he talked.
“Oh, that’s the new guy.” Kei nodded in the direction of the corner alley, rubbing a hand through his hair and leaving an attractive rumpled look in his wake. “I think he sells charms and stuff to tourists, along with some other stuff, if you know what I mean. Has some amazing shit, or so, you know, they tell me.” Eiko gave a pealing laugh and put her fingers to her mouth, her nails glittering in the neon light. Sayuri rolled her eyes as Eiko asked how could Kei-chan know, he wasn’t into that, was he? Not really, was he? and she opened her mouth to change the topic, to ask how much further were they going to have to walk, and then she saw the lingering look Kei was giving that slender, shadowed alley, and she threw a quick look over her shoulder. There, where two goths were slumping past: a narrow shoulder against filthy brick and clothes streaked with both color and dirt.
He turned, and Sayuri caught her breath, forgetting her quick glance as he lifted his face to the harsh light of the signs overhead. His skin was ashen and tinged with an unhealthy bluish color, shadowy eyes peering from behind knotted, dirty-looking hair. He wore makeup like a nightmare, scarlet slashed over his eyes and down his nose like wounds. His lips were painted into a small, coy smile, shaded to match the ragged purple scarf wrapped around his head. His clothes hung off the sharp angles of his bony frame, knobby wrists and jutting collarbones, but exposed to the night air, the nape of his neck was delicate and pale like some geisha-cliché.
Koji stopped dead and gave a little laugh. “Man, I thought I’d seen the worst. There’s no limit to how fucked up people can get.” He tugged at one of Sayuri’s braids. “C’mon, Sayu, that’s just what happens when people get up on their own drugs. Don’t be afraid.” He sneered this last, and she glared at him, swatting away his hand.
“Shut up,” she snapped, and they all laughed and kept walking with the direction of the sidewalk’s traffic, Eiko chattering away and making eyes at Kei like it was the end of the world. Sayuri kept her eyes on her feet as she walked, one-two-three steps, and then she raised her head and looked again, and she squarely met the eyes of the drug dealer across the street. She jumped and stumbled into Eiko, and as Eiko gave a little shriek, Sayuri saw the drug dealer give a curl of his violet-painted lips and a slow blink of his red-slashed eyes, and as he spread his hands in a welcome gesture, he said something, his lips moving silently--
“Sayu-chan!” Eiko was pouting, her lips twisted up. “What’s wrong with you tonight? You wanna go home, or something? You sick?” She planted her hands on her hips and leaned forward, cocking her head to the side. All four of them had stopped, people pushing past them and giving them faintly irritated looks.
Sayuri blinked at her. “I’m--no.” She gave a nervous laugh, waving her hand. “I’m fine, he just--” she glanced over at the alley, but it was empty, “it’s just--”
“You don’t wanna go dancing, is that it?” A flash of panic passed over Eiko’s face, and she made her eyes huge and gave Sayuri a puppy-look. “You don’t wanna hang out with us?”
Sayuri took a steadying breath. “Of course I do,” she said, gritting her teeth into a smile. “I just wanna get there.” Eiko saw the look and gave her a quick, desperate smile, grabbing her hand and walking a little faster, their skirts flaring around their knees. Sayuri stumbled a little in her new shoes, and Eiko pulled her up with a squeal to hurry hurry ‘cos you wanted to go. They pulled ahead of the boys, giggling, and Kei and Koji caught up at the door of the club, where Eiko dissolved into laughter as Kei grabbed her, and he was laughing, too. Koji looked like he wanted to do something similar to Sayuri, but she gave him a fierce glare and raised an elbow threateningly.
As they were shoving their things into one of the club’s lockers, Eiko whispered apologies and thanks, bobbing her head fervently with each one, but Sayuri could see her impatience, the looks she kept darting back to where the boys were waiting, and so she just grabbed Eiko’s hand and wished her friend luck. Eiko beamed at her and tugged at her, pulling her closer to the deep thump of the main floor’s speakers that beat like a giant, alien heart.
The lightshow skated violet lightning across the club, and bodies moved en masse to the thundering bass. The crowd shifted like the ocean, humming energy rolling out in waves. Everyone bounced on the balls of their feet, hands raised in the air. The air was damp with heat and sweat, cut through with flickering neon light.
Eiko grabbed Sayuri’s hand and dove into the crowd, slipping neatly between shoulders and elbows. Above them was the DJ, headphones cocked back on sweaty hair; his fingers slid over the turntables and he swayed to the deep house beat. Eiko was already moving to the music, the light flashing blue and red across her sparkled cheeks, and she pulled Sayuri in for just a second. She yelled something close to Sayuri’s ear that got lost in the sound, that was just breath against Sayuri’s neck and a squeezing tug at her hand. Laughing, Eiko did a little spin and let go, drifting until Kei’s hand slid around her waist. She smiled and leaned against him, and when he ducked his head and gave her a kiss, Sayuri looked away.
She slipped into the easy sway of the people immediately next to her and let herself move away from Eiko and Kei, resolutely closing her eyes. Hands that burned like fire slid around her waist, and she jumped, her elbow connecting with something solid. Koji came into view, a weird look on his face as he rubbed at his jaw, and she gave him an emphatic glare and shook her head. He tossed his hair to make it fall over his forehead in a way that he must have known was attractive and gave her a bedroom-eyed look. She shook her head sharply, mouthing no, and he scowled and moved away from her and closer to Eiko and Kei.
The light shuddered and skipped, the deep pulse lessening as the music split into an overload of ambient noise. Everything slowed down to half-second frames, successive shots that told a story. Eiko with Kei’s tongue in her mouth, their hands spreading scorching heat. Koji ignoring her, leaning in close to another girl, his hand on the small of her back. Sayuri’s own hands tucking back her hair and reaching out like she was going to push between the dancers beside her and leave. Her ridiculous, expensive shoes catching on each other and sending her ankle and all her weight the wrong way. And then a cold hand on hers, bony fingers wrapping around her wrist to catch her, and the music crescendoed and burst like a firework as the bass worked back to full intensity, and she was staring at the drug dealer from outside as he held her hand.
The dancers beside them jostled her, and she stumbled again, this time falling against his chest. She flushed darkly and tried to move away, but he looked at her and smiled, pulling on her wrist, and the bone-deep beat made it seem like they were dancing. He looked...okay, up close, he looked kind of nauseous actually, with those shadows under his eyes and violet-blue veins roping over his hands, and the club’s frenzied lighting. But kind of exotic-strange, too, with his long eyelashes and odds and ends woven into his tangled hair, and his clothes--a dark red or violet sash wrapped over a tattered haori and a weird kimono-style top. A scent like old, spicy incense... Sayuri blushed again to realize she was smelling him, so hard her face hurt, and she shook off his skinny fingers, giving him an apologetic smile and a wave of her hand.
He reached forward again, long nails like claws, and before she could move, his fingers were curling around the back of her neck and he was pulling her close and his breath against her cheek-- She gave a little shriek and struggled, but he didn’t try to kiss her. Her nose was almost touching the pale line of his neck, his hair--which, okay, maybe not that dirty--against her face, and her pulse was roaring so loudly that it took a few seconds to realize his lips were against her ear and he speaking to her.
“Be careful,” he was saying, his voice so purring and low that she could hardly understand him, and then he released her, brushing his lips against her cheek. He stepped away, leaving her frozen in the press of sweat and heat, pushed back by elbows and shoulders.
She stared after him, her hand on her cheek, and he smiled at her again. She blinked and tried to shove her away between two bodies, yelling, “Wait! Wait--” but he turned away, and she was thrust back, and he was gone. She stared after him for a long moment, her fingers tracing those lines of contact at her cheek, her neck, her ear, and she could feel her cheeks burn. Be careful. She swallowed and started pushing her way through the throng of dancers, back in a general Eiko-direction.
The lights flashed violet and blue, moving over her like washes of current, and when she finally fought her way back to Eiko, she was seeing jerky orange-red afterimages everywhere. Eiko had her fingers knotted in Kei’s hair, and his hand was creeping up her shirt. Giving an exasperated sigh, Sayuri jerked at Eiko’s arm, yelling over the noise, “Ei-chan! Time to go!”
Eiko pulled away and gave her a dreamy look. “What?”
“Something’s weird. We need to go!”
“What?” Eiko was shouting, her brow furrowed, and she mimed deafness, gesturing at her ear. With a seismic boom, the techno’s bass fell quiet, and with the breakdown of the song came the strobe lights; again, time slowed to freeze-frames of Eiko’s puzzled face, Kei distracted and impatient, and all those people around them frozen in feverish movement.
“I said--” Sayuri glanced over her shoulder and lost her train of thought as her eyes focused across the club. She could see him again, that drug dealer, and he must have been high or just tripped out on something very, very dangerous, because he had climbed to some precarious perch by one of the room’s support pillars that left him about three feet over everyone’s heads, and he was looking up intently. The light flickered over him, shuddering across his skin and he was all white on blue on red on violet and flash--he with his arms spread like a dancer or a bird--and something in his hand, something that glittered and shone and Sayuri thought she could hear a bell and she was too far away to tell but she would have bet money he was smiling--and then he turned and started to fall and he was gone, winked out in an instant.
and there was something golden and all silvery fluid movement pouring from one second to the next, jerking forward with the strobe light, and there was the scent of something hot and burning and ozone and Sayuri felt very, very dizzy. There was a sound like shrill, inhuman laughter and she saw a hulking darkness rear up, the shadows collecting and arching back to strike like a snake and in the shuddering light there was this golden man-shaped thing falling toward the darkness, a blade like stars and heat in his shining hands. Time jerked with the strobe and light and darkness met, that sword plunging deep into the shadows and
There was a blast of scorching heat as the light blew, fountaining sparks over the crowd, and the scent of electrical smoke was threaded through the air. There were a few screams, and far above, the sprinklers cut on. The dancers cheered, like it was all part of the show. The DJ gave the sputtering light and the plastic awning over his equipment an alarmed look, and then he grinned at the crowd and turned up the bass and pumped his fist in the air. The other lights kicked in again, pouring green and violet over the crowd, refracting through the mist of water from the sprinklers, and they all danced on. Sayuri jumped when a stray spark hit her arm, and she turned to Eiko and Kei, her brow furrowed. “Did you see that--the light--”
Eiko laughed and shouted over the music, “You must be super-tired, Sayu-chan. Of course I saw that.” She smiled up at Kei and he gave her a tolerant look. Eiko leaned against him and reached for Sayuri’s hand where she was still touching her neck. “You’d better go sit down or something, okay? You don’t look so good.” She belatedly shaded her eyes from the sprinklers, her eyeliner already beginning to run, and gave Sayuri an impatient look.
“Okay,” Sayuri heard herself say. “Yeah. I’ll do that.” She turned away and ran blindly, pushing her way back toward the doors. As she struggled through the crowd, she scanned faces around her and saw people laughing, confused, blissed out...not what she wanted. Not was she was looking for. She felt her makeup drip down her face, her hair coming undone and falling in her face, and her shoes slid on the wet floor. And then she focused again, catching a glimpse through a gap between two dancers, of him slipping out the exit, the wet tails of his headscarf hanging limply down his back.
She grimly pushed her way out of the crowd and ran down the corridor, the lightshow following her and painting the way in red and gold until she turned the corner and burst through the doors to the street, and there he was, walking away from her and leaving slightly damp footprints on the sidewalk behind him.
“What was that?” she said breathlessly, holding a little stitch in her side and shivering in the night air.
He stopped before he was out of the club’s entranceway, before he could melt into the sidewalk traffic, and inclined his head to look at her through his hair. “What was which?” he said softly.
Sayuri drew a helpless breath. “That. That thing. What was that?”
The drug dealer smiled a little, and he turned to face her. “There was,” he said, “a woman...long ago.” He brought two fingers up and wiped at the water beaded on his face, and his makeup smeared across his cheek like fresh blood. He looked at his fingers and let his hand drop, and then raised his heavy-lidded eyes to meet Sayuri’s again. “A remnant,” he said softly. “Nothing more.” He tucked his pale, thin hands into his sleeves and bowed, his wet hair falling into his face. “Please take care.”
As he straightened and turned away, Sayuri bit her lip and called, “Wait.” He stopped again and she took a step forward, her heels loud against the pavement. “I’d...I’d like to buy a charm, please.” She stared at her feet and blushed, her hands twisting in the fabric of her wet skirt. His soft-soled shoes didn’t make a sound, and she jumped when they came into view, startled into looking up.
With a delicate turn of his wrist, he reached into the folds of his haori and pulled out a charm: a pretty little handcrafted thing of patterned paper and a chiming bell. He held out his free hand palm-up, and after a few seconds, she nervously raised hers. With a patient smile, he took her wrist, turned her hand up, and pressed the charm against her palm, his fingers sickly pale against her skin. “No charge,” he said softly.
“But--”
“You do not have your money,” he said, giving her an amused look, and she gasped an oh, giving a reflexive look around, as if she had just dropped her purse. He released her hand and turned away again. “It will work if you trust it.” She peered at the charm--not even wet, somehow--and traced the paper’s gold designs over pink clouds and snowy-white cranes. The bell was cold against her skin. She raised her face to thank him, that wretched blush still burning away at her face, but he was gone, and there was only the milling crowd of a very late night.
She bowed anyway, the charm held close to her chest, her heart pounding in her ears.