Dogs of War
Title: The Red String of Fate
Author: cloud_wolfbane
Prompt: Closet
AU
Rating: T
Warnings: N/A
Word count: 1989
Summary: From my series "Dogs of War." Some bonds go beyond everything.
The Dogs of War
The Red String of Fate
Kun-loon made her way towards her daughter`s room. Blue faerie light flickered on the wall scones as she passed. A smile tickled her lips as she looked at the small flames, the difficult spell covering the manor was one of her own design.
"Sweet heart," she whispered, pushing open the door, despite its heavy wooden frame, the door slipped open without a sound.
The room obviously belonged to a young girl. The bed was a small four poster with pastel pinks and purples. The floor was littered with stuffed animals and toys, but there was no sign of the child.
"Kagome," Kun-loon called, stepping into the room. She heard a soft sniffle and felt something touch the edge of her senses. "Oh sweetie what are you doing in the closet?" She pulled open the closet door to find her daughter in the corner, her knees tucked against her chest. Her eyes were squeezed closed and small sniffles escaped her mouth.
"Kagome, what`s wrong," Kun-loon fell to her daughter`s side and pulled her close.
"Mama." Kagome sniffled, looking up with wide, azure eyes. "Mama he`s hurting. "
Kun-loon blinked in surprise. Naturally her empathy reached out, sinking comfort into her daughter`s mind. She could feel a deep worry and sadness by Kagome, but there was something else, someone else. She could feel pain and hunger and a fierce, animalistic determination. "Who?"
Kagome pulled one, long sniffle. "I dunno."
Kun-loon gasped, covering her mouth in shock. Her mental probe had stumbled across something she had never expected. For a Kirin the mental bond between mother and child was made as easy as breathing. She knew her daughter`s mind as well as she knew her own. The moment her blanket of comfort spread, Kun-loon found something that she had never noticed before.
The Red String of Fate.
Usually the mind was contained , like a many layered sphere, but on one end of Kagome`s sphere was a cord. She could feel the foreign emotions leaking from the cord, but could find no way to block them for her daughter`s sake. She probed the cord for weaknesses, but it was like a steal cable. Feeling ill, Kun-loon withdrew her mind.
"Mama don`t worry for meeee," Kagome pleaded, standing on shaky legs, she hugged her mother`s neck.
"Oh sweet heart." Kun-loon felt like crying herself. She hoisted her daughter into her arms and carried her to her bed.
"I just want him to feel better. He`s quiet now," Kagome whispered as she pulled her covers up to her chin.
"Sleep, my dear daughter, sleep," Kun-loon kissed Kagome`s brow and gave a mental push in the right direction.
Kagome was already nodding off, when Kun-loon left the room. A worried mother could only seek advice from a more experienced source. Stumbling into the dimly lit kitchen, she found her father.
"So the bond has strengthened," Jiji murmured, starring at his daughter over a steaming cup of tea. Jiji was an ancient Kirin. His once midnight hair was streaked with grey and his unihorn had grown to an impressive length. The tail curled around his legs showed signs of a once great creature.
"You KNEW? You knew and said nothing." Kun-loon was seething with rage.
Jiji held up a soothing hand. "The bond has been there since birth, but it was so weak. For years it has wavered. I suppose something must have happened tonight to give it strength. I did not want to worry you with something that may have never occurred."
It seemed a physical effort for Kun-loon to restrain herself. "I thought the bond was myth, fanciful legend."
Jiji shook his head. "Daughter our family is a monarchy, given power by the Great Kirin, but power corrupts. Black hair and blue eyes does not a leader make. Many centuries ago bonds began to form between the upcoming monarch and a subject that would pair perfectly with them. The subject was always someone that grew in poverty and pain. Someone that would understand the people and be able to lead the monarch for the people. Chosen by the gods, the bond could stand the test of time. It seems our Kagome has been chosen for something great. The only question is; who is her pair bond?"
Kun-loon fell into a seat beside her father. "I can`t believe, gosh daddy."
Jiji patted her shoulder. "All will work out well. Kagome is a strong young girl."
"Kagome is only four!"
"And so is her pair bond." Jiji gave her a hard look, leaving Kun-loon to wonder what could cause such suffering in a child.
***
It was not often that Bankotsu found himself in the inner ring. The Core complex was centered around the hospital and each extending ring was occupied by higher levels of Core soldiers. When not on a purge or attending to the General`s orders, Bankotsu occupied the outer most ring.
"What brings the high Colonel himself to my part of town?" a voice rasped like scrapping metal.
"Come to visit the unnamed whiteys, old man," Bankotsu grinned, facing his old mentor.
It was impossible to tell how old Sergeant Raren really was, only that he had been on more purges than any other and had lost half his body in the process. He was a menagerie of mechanical engineering, both legs, right arm, and half his face was completely remade.
Raren gave a crooked half smile. "Come to see Runt and Mongrel, I`m sure."
"Probably." Having gone through the process himself, Bankotsu knew that all the unnamed had a nickname, given to them from the other children or from their mentors. The children couldn`t receive their true name until they completed the test of the red cloak. He could only assume that Runt and Mongrel were two of the aliens he had dropped off almost five years ago.
"Runt`s a scrappy fellow. I`d bet my left arm he`s in a fight right now. Without the chip he`s shorter than the rest by a good bit, but he can out smart and out fight every last one of `em." Raren chuckled as he led Bankotsu along a rise that looked down on the unnamed court yard. Sure enough children ranging from 2 to 8 were circled around two combatants, and one of them was significantly smaller than the other.
"Good thing," Bankotsu commented as he watched, "I didn`t want that rotting old arm."
The smaller child, Runt, had long silver hair that fell around him like a mane. His eyes were a piercing gold and he snarled with small fangs. He obviously had the fighting style of someone used to being much smaller than their opponent. He rushed in quickly, lashing out with knife-like claws before retreating to safety. His pointed ears twitched as he took in every sound around him. Each of his senses carefully tuned.
"I can see why they call them dogs," Bankotsu whispered, taking in the sight of the feral child. Mongrel was just as bad. Obviously the Lupine child, he had black hair caked with so much filth it stuck up in thick spikes. He was equally fanged and clawed, with sharply pointed ears. He appeared to have a mangy wolf tail that flicked with agitation behind him. Despite being the same age as Runt he was about a head taller, but it did not appear to give him any advantage. Husky-blue eyes widened as Runt took him down.
Runt had to squash his building triumph as he kicked his leg out.
Mongrel fell to ground, stunned.
In a flash, Runt was on him. Claws flashing, he made shallow cuts over all the major arteries he had been shown in class. A deeper cut and the blood would flow like wine.
"Submit," Runt challenged, his stripes jagged with blood lust. He could end this rivalry now. His claws were sharp, his knowledge keen. He would never have to deal with Mongrel again. The thought was sweet on his mind, he poised to strike. Something flashed in his mind, a vision gone so quickly he hardly saw it, something blue and black. Something that made his heart twinge strangely. It was enough. Today was not the day. Runt stepped from Mongrel.
The children around them booed and hissed in dismay, but the crowd dispersed quickly. The show was over.
Feeling thankful that no others decided to join the fight, Runt watched them leave. With a sigh he turned to head for the barracks.
Mongrel stood in his way. The lupine gave him a hard look, assessing. "You could have killed me."
"I should have."
Mongrel sneered and was gone down the muddy streets.
Runt returned to the barracks, knowing no one else would be around. They were on a two hour break period between classes. Runt had long figured out the two hours were for the unnamed to fight amongst themselves, developing the ever changing hierarchy they lived in. Runt also knew that no matter how many people he beat, he would never enter the hierarchy. He was the smallest 4th year in the compound and smaller than most of the third years. His size meant that no matter who he beat they would never give him the time of day. In a place where rank was all that mattered, it was a fatal flaw.
Perching on his cot, Runt`s stomach gave a thunderous growl. He forgot about his hunger most of the time, but occasionally it would sneak up on him. Reminding him how long it had been since he had eaten. Sergeant Raren gave them a handful of pills every morning and evening that kept them strong and healthy. Runt hardly ever felt tired or weak, just hungry. The pills couldn`t fill the void in his stomach. They got food sometimes. It was never at a specific time or rotation, but Runt always looked forward for the day or so without the hunger pains.
He sighed and tried to concentrate on something else. There was not much to look at. The walls were white and barren. The room filled with rows of tightly packed cots. His cot was only covered with a ratty blanket that itched, his pillow had been stolen ages ago. He owned nothing but the five, white uniforms stored in a trunk under his bed. He was perhaps the only person that didn`t have his uniforms constantly stolen. They were too small to fit on anyone that would bother to take them.
He sat in the room, avoiding any that would try to fight him. He wasn`t a coward, but Runt understood that as fast and smart as he was, one day he would meet someone who was faster and smarter and that would be the day he died. The Sergeants frowned on excessive death, but they never said anything if one or two unnamed disappeared or had an 'accident'. The 8 yrs understood this concept, and they made sure to keep the youngers thinned of any 'unwanted' stock.
Runt clenched his fist when the warning bell rang. Time for class. He enjoyed learning and knew that every technique learned was another to keep him alive, but class was a dangerous gauntlet. He peered carefully out of the barracks. No one in either direction. He zipped across the ground, legs churning mud and grass.
Panting, he entered the training hall. Runt joined beside the Twins, the Draconians having never attacked him before. They were never apart from each other and they had a nasty habit of forming bolts of blue lightening when they felt threatened. They were good allies to have.
Runt watched the instructor enter and felt certain he would live another day.