Writing resumed
Title: Hikaru's Phoenix
Chapter Title: Chapter Eighteen: The Moment of Return
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Genre: AU, Fantasy
Pairing: Touya Akira and Shindou Hikaru... maybe. Someday.
Summary: In this Alternate Universe the Hikago characters are preoccupied with shamanic magic instead of go. Think Tokyo Babylon, not Shaman King.
Warning: Will contain slash and smut in the future (I swear!!). Non-slash fans are warned.
Previous Chapters: Links should be included within LJ cut.
It's been... hmmm, over a year now? Yes, yes it has. I am truly, incredibly, horribly sorry that I haven't updated this story (Do any of you even remember what happens? OTL). And I know I've worried quite a few of you guys who follow my LJ. Between my struggle with depression, dealing with an abusive supervisor, and finally moving back to the US, I've been a bit full with RL for a while. I am now settled though, and I hope this means I will be able to continue writing this.
Thanks to my betas (who I worry far too much) ontogenesis and shingo_the_pest for giving the initial corrections. I hope you guys are willing to stay with me for the remaining chapters.
Chapter Eighteen: The Moment of Return
Kuwabara did not consider himself to be an obsessive man, yet he was still a lover of magic, and the dawn of a Council assignment had always been something he looked forward to. He was getting less and less of those recently in his old age, much to his irritation, but usually the challenge of the ones he did get more than made up for the decrease in frequency.
Today was not one of those days however. In fact, if Kuwabara did not have the brat in tow, he would have been insulted. As it stood, he expected things to be incredibly boring, which was just as well. That meant there were fewer risks, and should the brat manage to make a mistake, the likelihood that fixing it entailed a panic-adrenaline-filled-rush-complete-with-near-death-experience was nearly nil. Not that there wasn’t a chance for things to end up that way, but even the brat would have to be especially clumsy to manage that.
Shindou had been quiet lately, an odd side effect after his rather spectacular performance at the Council temple. Kuwabara suspected that the boy had foreseen something-and typical of Shindou, the boy refused to speak of it. They hadn’t even discussed Gokiso’s excising, Kuwabara having discerned that the time wasn’t right. A younger master like Ogata would have begun pushing for answers, but Kuwabara had lived far too long to not have learned the benefits of patience. Still, he wasn’t a saint, and as necessary as it was to wait for Shindou (it was either that or risk the brat running away) it was starting to grate on him.
Life would be easier, Kuwabara thought, if Shindou were less of a stubborn blockhead. With one eyebrow lowered he glared at the boy, who was choosing that moment to be at his most stubborn.
“I was studying,” the brat whined, never mind that the idea of Shindou actually wanting to go back to his schoolwork (entirely unmagical) was laughable. There was no obvious reason for Shindou’s reluctance, which only meant that the problem, whatever it was, was personal. Kuwabara trusted Shindou to say something if he foresaw disaster for everyone involved (despite the brat’s denial, Shindou was too much of an onmyoji not to do so).
“You were sleeping,” Kuwabara said.
“Was not!”
“I suppose laying your face directly onto your schoolbooks is a new method of intense study,” Kuwabara said, hauling the boy to his feet, who did not give more than a token resistance. As he dragged Shindou down the hallway and out the front door, he added, “And the distinct snore is proof of your concentration!”
“I do not snore,” Shindou said, obediently locking the wooden gate behind him. The house was naturally protected by more than a mere metal lock, but it was always wise to reinforce the magic with something physical. Still, Kuwabara enjoyed thinking about the lovely surprises any future thieves would have in attempting to rob this house.
“If those weren’t snores, they were an exceedingly good imitation of one,” Kuwabara said.
“I’m very good at that,” Shindou replied, “since I wasn’t sleeping.”
Kuwabara chortled. Life was definitely harder with the brat around, but the old man could not deny that Shindou’s absence would also make it far less interesting. Shindou’s bravado was admirable, but stupid. Sometimes Kuwabara wondered if the boy would ever learn that he needn’t work out his personal problems on his own.
Probably not.
“Well go on. I gave you the place’s image earlier,” he said.
“I still don’t see why I have to go along with you,” Shindou grumbled, still playing the lazy disciple (which Kuwabara knew, but preferred to pretend he didn’t know). Whatever Shindou’s problems were, he was going to have to deal with his problems on his own, including his reasons for refusing to tell Kuwabara.
There was a slight change of expression as Shindou focused on the image Kuwabara had mentally sent him earlier. Specks of light appeared on the surface of the boy’s skin, growing more numerous as the seconds passed by. Then, in a sudden burst of light that seemed to come from the center of Shindou’s body, the boy disappeared.
Kuwabara sent out a mental probe to make sure that the boy ended up where he was supposed to. When his location was confirmed, he grunted slightly in approval, then followed.
He arrived a moment later in the middle of a mountain forest, the narrow, dirt road beneath his feet clear of plants and debris. Though the day proved to be cloudless, with the afternoon sun still strong, the place was dark from the towering cedars above them, allowing for little undergrowth. Kuwabara shifted, trying to redistribute his weight so that he could stand more easily on the sharply angled surface. At least he hadn’t had to climb all the way from the bottom. Times like these made him thankful that he was an onmyoji.
“Ah, here he is now.”
“Good afternoon, Ashiwara-kun.”
Kuwabara looked around, noting Shindou standing a little off to the side, the odd one out, as he was the only one in the group dressed in modern clothes. He knew it wasn’t the only reason why Shindou was standing apart from everybody else, but it would be useless to address the problem now.
Ashiwara-kun wore his most basic onmyoji work robes: pale blue hakama and a white cotton over-robe, with the two blue silk tassels attached to the front neatly tied together in a knot. Kuwabara knew that Touya Akira, the one who was technically in charge of this assignment, would also be similarly dressed, though his tassels would be far shorter and not tied, an indication of his beginner’s rank. “No accidents while I was on my way here? Good.”
“Why would there be any?” Shindou said, recognizing Kuwabara’s reference to him and bristling at the fact. “I only arrived a second before you did!”
Knowing that silence on his part would only annoy the brat further, Kuwabara merely ignored him, then turned to Ashiwara, who was here as the young Touya’s supervisor. In Kuwabara's private opinion Ashiwara was also far too young to be assigned to such duties, but then again, that was why Kuwabara had been requested to oversee this particular case, however boring it was.
“Has Touya-kun not arrived yet?”
“Oh, he was here a while ago,” Ashiwara-kun assured Kuwabara. “He’s doing a preliminary survey of our surroundings. We’re going to be fairly preoccupied with the house, and Akira-kun doesn’t want to be surprised by anything that could come at us from the outside.”
The boy in question arrived then, landing lightly on his feet from where he’d been floating above the trees.
“Kuwabara Honinbou,” Touya Akira said, bowing politely. “It is a privilege to work with you today.”
“This is your first assignment, isn’t it boy?” Kuwabara said. Then chuckling, he added, “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve brought Shindou-kun along with me, but I think the experience will be good for him.”
Touya Akira remained cool and composed, a point Kuwabara conceded to the boy. Not that he was any harder than Shindou to tease. No, it just took a different tactic to do so, and when he was hit, the the boy’s reactions were just as entertaining, if not more so, since compared to the brat, Touya Akira was far more reserved. Odd that the quiet boy had far less secrets than the brat who normally didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. It was an interesting contrast, and Kuwabara narrowed his eyes in amused speculation as he worked through possible reasons.
“There are quite a few pools of power here,” Touya Akira said quietly, his soft green-blue eyes flickering to the newcomers. “I judge them to be neutral, though if something out there wishes to twist them to its own purposes, it can be done easily enough. I keyed the ones that are closest to my power so that they can’t be tampered with, but the others…”
“The pools would explain why people found the place so eerie,” Kuwabara said, frowning at the information. “They can be shielded or drained, depending. Anything on the building we’ve been asked to look over?”
“I sensed nothing,” Touya Akira said. “But that means little.”
“Yes, just so,” Kuwabara agreed. From the corner of his eyes, he watched Shindou carefully for a reaction. He had not briefed the boy on what they were here for, but in the normal course of things, Shindou should be demanding an explanation soon.
That the brat didn’t, and instead remained silent, was proof enough that whatever he foresaw had to do with this particular assignment. He was looking more agitated by the second, his mask of flippancy rapidly wearing away.
“Shall we head to the building?” Ashiwara-kun asked.
The building, a traditional Japanese house looking dilapidated with age, appeared unremarkable, heavily shaded by tall, Japanese cedars. Paper on the shouji screens have all but disappeared where insects and time had eaten through, and in its place someone had chosen board the place up, which meant the inside would allow little to no light. While ordinary people may believe that a house as old as this would have a ghost or two dwelling inside, onmyoji knew better. Kuwabara sensed only age coming from the house, and nothing else.
“What shall we do now, young Touya?” Kuwabara asked with a crooked smile, lifting one eyebrow to gaze at the boy. He had no intention of doing most or even half of the work for this assignment. The assignment had been given to the boy. He, and not Kuwabara, would be the one to complete it.
“We go in,” Akira said, his voice decisive. “I will go in first. It would be best, Master Kuwabara, if you went in last. That would be because…”
“An old fart like me is expendable, is that it?” Kuwabara said with a wheezing laugh, deliberately misunderstanding the boy’s intentions.
Akira paused, then went blithely forward as if Kuwabara hadn’t interrupted him.
“You are the one with the most experience, and should something choose to come at us from behind…”
“Ah, now you flatter me.” Kuwabara then motioned Shindou to go in front of him. “Well, brat? Were you waiting for an invitation?”
“I didn’t want to come here in the first place!”
The boy actually snapped at Kuwabara, something he had never done before. He might quarrel, argue, and whine, but until now, the brat had never said or done anything in true anger. Kuwabara frowned as Shindou followed behind Ashiwara-kun into the building, his body taut with tension. It was possible that having to hide his problems on top of dealing with Touya Akira’s presence was proving to be too much to handle. For a moment he contemplated sending the boy away-it was one thing to have personal problems, but another story altogether if it was going to affect their assignment. And that would surely teach the brat, if not to share his problems with someone else, to at least learn better control.
Something made Kuwabara hold his peace though. Keeping a careful eye on the brat, Kuwabara watched as Shindou followed Ashiwara into the building. Then Kuwabara stepped through the doorway and slid the screen shut, plunging them into darkness.
* * *
Akira immediately created a ball of light, where it hovered above their heads, glowing a warm, comforting yellow. He tried not to look at Shindou, who stood silently behind Ashiwara-san. There was an odd expression on the other boy’s face-a growing sense of unease that was beginning to worry Akira, but he knew better than to confront it now. Shindou, being Shindou, would simply deny it, and Akira didn’t have time to engage in another mental tug-of-war.
“It looks like this place hasn’t been cleaned in years,” Ashiwara-san said behind him, noting the nearly ankle deep piles of dust on parts of the floor. It was one reason why none of the onmyoji had bothered to remove their shoes. When the owner finally decided to clean this place up, a few extra scuffles on the hardwood floor would be the least of his worries.
“Thirteen years to be precise,” Akira said. He summoned the scroll that held all the details about the assignment. “The last family to stay here was a newly-wed couple on their honeymoon. It’s written here that after they left, the hired hands who had arrived to ready the place for the next tenant began experiencing odd events that couldn’t be explained. The job was left undone after too many complaints, and the place has not been visited since then.”
“So why are they opening the place up now?”
“The building has acquired a new owner who is eager to set the rumors to rest,” Akira said.
“Any details on the so-called ‘odd events’?” Master Kuwabara asked, his bushy eyebrows lowered to the point where the old man’s eyes were nearly hidden. He did not seem at all bothered by the dust, with his hands clasped behind his back and his back stooped forward in thought. Akira did notice though that some of the piles of dust near the Master’s feet seemed to move away from wherever Master Kuwabara was. So the old man was not nearly as unbothered by the filth as he appeared to be. And as Akira continued to watch the old man, he realized that Master Kuwabara kept fixing his eyes in Shindou’s direction. So Master Kuwabara knew Shindou was hiding something. That he too said nothing meant it wasn’t something either of them could do anything about. Taking his cue from Master Kuwabara, Akira began to keep a closer watch on Shindou as well.
“Strange balls of light appearing and disappearing both inside and outside,” Akira answered, turning the scroll to the exact spot. He had studied it continuously for the past few days, and rather thought that he could probably recite it by memory now. “Voices where there are none, and the sounds of instruments and dancing when there is nothing to be seen. Odd areas of extreme cold or extreme heat that would last for only a short period before reappearing elsewhere. Vague shadows even in areas brightly lit. One person who I suspect was at the very least a sensitive gave an accurate description of a kodama, specifically a cedar tree-dwelling one.”
“Foxglows, a spirit parade, and the aftereffects of gates to the spirit world opening and closing, which were probably caused by spirits arriving to participate in the spirit parade, and the foxglows would have been there to accompany that,” Ashiwara-san concluded, though he remained thoughtful. Then he laughed, half-amused by the list. “Those things were common enough occurrences during the Heian period, but nowadays it’s rare to have any one of those happen by itself, never mind all of them at nearly the same time.” Now utterly cheerful, he added,
“Sounds like thirteen years ago the denizens of the spirit world had quite a party. I wonder what it was for?”
Akira nodded, having come to the same conclusions himself. He highly suspected that whatever the celebration, it was most likely a one-time event and unlikely to happen again.
“The owner wishes to make sure that such things will no longer occur. We’re here to see if all those things were a one-time occurrence or if it has continued to take place regularly for all these thirteen years, and if possible, to prevent anymore of them from happening in the future.”
“Hmph. It sounds simple enough,” Master Kuwabara said. “I can tell you right now though that no gates have been opened here for at least the past ten years.”
“As expected of a Master,” Ashiwara-san said with open admiration. “I can only sense as far back as three.”
“The places where the fabric of space and time had been ripped to create a gate are mostly healed after ten years, but if you look closely with your senses, you should be able to see a slight outline,” Master Kuwabara explained, his lips forming a crooked smile that would have probably frightened Akira if he’d still been a small boy.
“I would like to go to the rooms where the gates were created,” Akira finally said after a few seconds of silence passed. He had hoped that Shindou would say something during the exchange, but Shindou had merely tightened his expression and turned his gaze near the vicinity of his sneakers. “According to the reports, the room with the highest amount of disturbance was the bedroom.”
He began to walk down the corridor, using his magical senses to determine the rooms. While Akira had naturally been provided with a map of the building that he had dutifully memorized, it was far easier to simply follow the disturbances in the fabric of space time. Master Kuwabara had been right about the outlines, and Akira wondered how Ashiwara-san could not see them, as they positively glowed to Akira’s senses, a bright burst of warm color in an otherwise dark landscape.
When they were still a room away from the master bedroom, Akira was forced to pull his senses back into himself. By then, the glowing was so strong that it would have blinded him had he not.
“Just how many spirits decided to come here?” Ashiwara-san whispered, awed. Even he was able to sense all the former gates in the room. “I’ve never seen anything like this. What about you, Master Kuwabara?”
The Master frowned, but said nothing. Instinctively, Akira’s eyes turned in Shindou’s direction. Shindou was quiet, and whatever he was thinking or feeling was so carefully masked Akira wondered what he could be going through to make that necessary. He longed to mindspeak the other boy, knowing that some of Shindou’s feelings would reveal themselves if Shindou bothered to reply, but something made him hesitate. In the state Shindou was in, would he even be able to hear Akira?
They stepped into the bedroom, a medium-sized, rectangular room of eight tatami. From the faded look of the door screens, Akira saw that in its prime the screens had been luxuriously painted to imitate the cherry trees in full bloom, though only faint outlines of the branches remained now as a dark brown smudge. The straw mats were falling to pieces, with holes here and there that indicated the places where insects and rodents had chewed through.
But it wasn’t the room that caught Akira’s interest. It was the presence he felt, though it had long disappeared. Whatever it had been, it had held such a strong aura that even after thirteen years, the room had managed to retain the memory of its passage. Accompanied with that presence was a feeling that filled Akira with comfort. Something wonderful had happened in this room, an event that had not occurred in far too long, and the creatures of the spirit world had come to celebrate its coming. He extended his senses tremulously, and caught the echoes of music and song long gone. A wedding, perhaps? Unable to contain his curiosity, Akira went deeper. No. A birth. A birth that had been long awaited.
“Something was born here,” Ashiwara-san said, echoing Akira’s thoughts. He too had been caught up in the memory of celebration, and wore a soft smile in response.
“No, not quite,” Akira said quietly, though his heart fluttered at the memory of incredible joy, not at all dampened even after thirteen years. “A conception. Whoever it was had been conceived here, not born. But it spelled that being’s return, as the conception would have guaranteed a birth. A return in more ways than one. I sense that the being had been absent also in the spirit world.”
“Hmm, now that we know what had happened here, I think we can reassure the owner that this building is safe. An event of this magnitude will not happen again...” Master Kuwabara trailed off. Akira wondered how the old master was dealing with the lingering memories in this room. Master Kuwabara did not look quite happy, but the expression on the old man’s face was one Akira was certain had rarely been seen by anyone.
“I wonder what had been bor-conceived here, and what happened to the child later,” Ashiwara-san murmured. “Whoever he or she was… he must have been someone important.”
From behind them, Akira felt Shindou shift. Akira tensed in anticipation, sensing that finally, Shindou was going to talk.
“Me.”
There was so much anguish in that one word that it took all of Akira’s self control to remain where he was. Next to him Master Kuwabara didn’t seem at all surprised by Shindou’s action, leaving only Ashiwara-san, to blink slowly as they all turned to face Shindou. The boy’s head was angled down, studying the floor and walls, hiding his face from view.
“It was me.”
Shindou looked up then, not to reveal Ho-Oh’s shining brilliance, but Shindou’s own gray eyes. In the following silence, Akira felt his heart clench. One tear slowly dripped down Shindou’s cheeks. The boy did not bother to wipe it, even when more came to join the first, forming a continuous streak that glowed under Akira’s mage light. It flowed like a burst dam, and the torrent that followed weren’t only tears.
“I…” Shindou began. Then he swallowed, finally stepping into the room. “They’d loved each other so much,” he said. “I wanted… I wanted to be a part of… tha-It was selfish of me.” The tears rapidly increased. “But I thought… I thought…”
“Shindou…” Akira found his right hand reaching out to touch Shindou’s left shoulder. When the touch did not meet with resistance, Akira cautiously sidled closer to the boy. Shindou did not react to his presence at all, almost as if he was oblivious to it.
“I didn’t mean to hurt them,” Shindou said, his voice cracking at the very end.
“You’re forgetting something though,” Akira said. A part of his mind was in a panic, frantically trying to figure out what to say. He pushed that part of him aside with all the strength borne from years of training. “Your parents weren’t the only ones who had been here. The spirits, all the creatures of the spirit world… you can feel what they must have felt, can’t you? Their joy?”
“That was a long time ago,” Shindou said, turning to look at him. Shifting his other shoulder, he raised his arm to wipe the remaining tears away with his sleeve, a gesture that for some odd reason didn’t strike Akira as particularly childish.
“They still feel it,” Akira insisted, with a surety he didn’t know he had. But somehow he knew, with feeling and certainty he couldn’t explain, though he knew that if he wanted to find out, he could do that too. And even as he knew that, he found himself backing away from that option. There were some things he didn’t want to know yet. “I’m glad you came back,” he whispered.
For the first time that day Shindou’s attention was completely focused on Akira.
“You are,” the boy said, his voice solemn. His eyes began to glow, not the bright silver of Ho-Oh’s eyes, but of another kind of light.
Just as Akira was about to take a step closer, the remnants of the memories held in the room finally gathered, and before any of the others realized what was happening, like the sudden roll of a tidal wave, they were swept up in it.
* * *
So much love. So much joy.
Akira opened his eyes to find himself in darkness that somehow glowed at the same time.
“Shindou?” he whispered.
Yes, yes I will be reborn here. With such love, surely they will care for me, as much as I care for them. I have decided.
Then in a burst of light the darkness was torn asunder to reveal a being so beautiful Akira found himself speechless. The being wavered, one moment that of a beautiful, multi-color plumed bird with sweeping feathers, the other of a creature vaguely resembling something human, gowned in the same colors as the feathers. Akira couldn’t decide what gender the being was, then realized that it was a pointless question. In this place, to this creature, a thing as shallow as gender did not matter.
I come.
The light grew too bright to look at, and from it came the sweet notes of birdsong, soft at first, then gradually becoming a crescendo of music so powerful Akira felt that he might burst.
I am here!
* * *
When Akira came to, it was to realize that somehow, he’d ended up on the floor, his arms clutching Shindou tightly to his chest.
“Will you let go?” Shindou demanded in an all too Shindou-like tone.
“Oh. Ummm…” Akira felt his cheeks heat up, and knew that he must be blushing furiously.
“You’re not letting go,” Shindou said into his chest. “It’s getting hard to breathe.”
Akira had not meant to throw Shindou away from him, but he was suddenly having trouble controlling his muscles.
“Sorry!” he said, struggling to his feet. Shindou glared at him, then stood up also, slapping the dust out of his jeans.
“Ugh, I’m covered in this crap.”
“Sorry,” Akira said again, then turned to Ashiwara-san and Master Kuwabara. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay Akira-kun,” Ashiwara-san said with a twinkle. “I won’t mention this in the report.”
His blush, which had been fading, returned twice as strong.
“Th-thank you.”
“Ah, to be young again,” Master Kuwabara said, breaking out into a series of loud, wheezing brays of laughter.
“Shut up,” Shindou said rudely. He looked like he wanted to say more, and Akira had no doubt that each would be progressively more outrageous than the last.
“Huh, the aura here has faded completely,” Ashiwara-san suddenly said, looking around. “Do you sense anything? Akira-kun? Master Kuwabara?”
Master Kuwabara paused, his lips forming into a ghost of a frown that progressively deepened.
“You’re right. That is strange. Very strange. Even if the aura had disappeared, the outlines of the gates should have remained. They’re still there, but now so faint that if I hadn’t sensed them earlier today, I would never have found them. And that too is strange.”
A stirring conviction deep in Akira’s gut told him that he ought to know, but Akira couldn’t understand how he could. That same conviction told him now that somehow, something had been completed, and task done, would never appear again.
“Even the feeling of joy is fading fast,” Akira said, extending his senses to the memories that were suddenly being leeched away. By who, or what, Akira didn’t know. Again that feeling came. A feeling that he ought to know, and that it was very important that he did, surfaced again. He ignored it.
“What about you, Shindou-kun?” Ashiwara-san asked. “Those were your memories.”
“I’m… not sure,” the boy said, his voice uneasy. “But it won’t harm anyone, I know that for certain.”
“Can we make a report with the way things are?” Ashiwara-san asked Master Kuwabara. “I agree with Shindou that nothing here is likely to hurt or startle anyone ever again, but…”
“That’s up to Akira to decide,” Master Kuwabara said.
Silence fell over the group as all waited for Akira to make his decision.
“We leave,” Akira said. “We are done here. I’ll stay back here and create a few wards to ensure that no more gates from the spirit world can be opened here without going through the Council. Tomorrow I will then report to the owner that he may begin renovations.”
Master Kuwabara nodded.
“Then I am done here as well. Come along, brat.”
Shindou followed his master out of the room, the expression on his face at once thoughtful and inscrutable. Once again, Akira wished that he dared try to find out what Shindou was thinking.
By the time he had gathered enough courage to try, Shindou had already left.
* * *
This was going to be the last time Hasami ever used the skills of a tanuki. It had been an hour since the dragon brat had left, yet the creature was still wailing.
“Shouldn’t have done it!”
“It worked perfectly fine. I told you I would hide your trace, and I did. None of them noticed anything,” Hasami coaxed, at once irritated yet also feeling triumphant. It had worked so well. Father would be pleased.
“No… no… shouldn’t have,” the tanuki moaned, hiding his face with both front paws.
“Why not?” Hasami asked, nearly snapping with impatience.
While kitsune and tanuki were both masters of illusions, tanuki illusions were different in that the illusions often enhanced what was there, a skill Hasami, if he were to be honest with himself, lacked. Tanuki pulled from their surroundings, not merely changing, but blending as well. It was therefore easy for a tanuki to recreate the moment of Ho-Oh’s conception. Gunpo had been one of the thousands that had flocked to celebrate that moment, and it was child’s play for the tanuki to weave his own intense feelings of joy into the fabric of his illusions, to give strength to old portals to the spirit world, and last of all, to bring the last of the lingering memories of Ho¬-Oh to reenact its first moments one more time.
Hasami had explained to Gunpo why this must be done of course. Though reluctant at first, the tanuki had eventually agreed. It helped that Gunpo, though one of the most skilled illusionists in the spirit kingdom, was also the most gullible and greedy. Merely flashing a bit of gold across the old tanuki’s face was enough to get him eagerly agreeing to anything Hasami offered.
“I… I… I… m-m-made him cry!” Gunpo wailed, now truly weeping. “Shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t have made him cry. I hurt him!”
Hasami felt the truth of those words like a knife to the heart, and his earlier feeling of triumph bled away, leaving a cold, sick feeling. The tanuki’s wailing began increasing in volume, but Hasami couldn’t bring himself to silence the creature. He was following his father’s orders, and Gunpo, despite his very visible regret, was not innocent. After all, hadn’t he taken Hasami’s gold? Hadn’t he been as eager to bargain for his services as Hasami had been, once the old tanuki had realized how much Hasami was willing to pay?
If only the tanuki would stop his ceaseless wailing.
A/N: Tanuki are often associated with good fortune, so I made it so that the one here would be attracted to gold and money. Legends portray them as being good (unlike their foxy counterparts), but extremely gullible and not too bright. Thus we have Gunpo, a tanuki who was eager to do anything for money, but very, very remorseful once he realized the result of that greed. Kitsune and tanuki do not get along per se, but as creatures associated with illusion, there's bound to be a bit of rivalry. There are numerous stories where good natured bets over who is better at illusions than who take place.
It must be noted that the tanuki tends to win most of these bets.
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Chapter Title: Chapter Eighteen: The Moment of Return
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Genre: AU, Fantasy
Pairing: Touya Akira and Shindou Hikaru... maybe. Someday.
Summary: In this Alternate Universe the Hikago characters are preoccupied with shamanic magic instead of go. Think Tokyo Babylon, not Shaman King.
Warning: Will contain slash and smut in the future (I swear!!). Non-slash fans are warned.
Previous Chapters: Links should be included within LJ cut.
It's been... hmmm, over a year now? Yes, yes it has. I am truly, incredibly, horribly sorry that I haven't updated this story (Do any of you even remember what happens? OTL). And I know I've worried quite a few of you guys who follow my LJ. Between my struggle with depression, dealing with an abusive supervisor, and finally moving back to the US, I've been a bit full with RL for a while. I am now settled though, and I hope this means I will be able to continue writing this.
Thanks to my betas (who I worry far too much) ontogenesis and shingo_the_pest for giving the initial corrections. I hope you guys are willing to stay with me for the remaining chapters.
Chapter Eighteen: The Moment of Return
Kuwabara did not consider himself to be an obsessive man, yet he was still a lover of magic, and the dawn of a Council assignment had always been something he looked forward to. He was getting less and less of those recently in his old age, much to his irritation, but usually the challenge of the ones he did get more than made up for the decrease in frequency.
Today was not one of those days however. In fact, if Kuwabara did not have the brat in tow, he would have been insulted. As it stood, he expected things to be incredibly boring, which was just as well. That meant there were fewer risks, and should the brat manage to make a mistake, the likelihood that fixing it entailed a panic-adrenaline-filled-rush-complete-with-near-death-experience was nearly nil. Not that there wasn’t a chance for things to end up that way, but even the brat would have to be especially clumsy to manage that.
Shindou had been quiet lately, an odd side effect after his rather spectacular performance at the Council temple. Kuwabara suspected that the boy had foreseen something-and typical of Shindou, the boy refused to speak of it. They hadn’t even discussed Gokiso’s excising, Kuwabara having discerned that the time wasn’t right. A younger master like Ogata would have begun pushing for answers, but Kuwabara had lived far too long to not have learned the benefits of patience. Still, he wasn’t a saint, and as necessary as it was to wait for Shindou (it was either that or risk the brat running away) it was starting to grate on him.
Life would be easier, Kuwabara thought, if Shindou were less of a stubborn blockhead. With one eyebrow lowered he glared at the boy, who was choosing that moment to be at his most stubborn.
“I was studying,” the brat whined, never mind that the idea of Shindou actually wanting to go back to his schoolwork (entirely unmagical) was laughable. There was no obvious reason for Shindou’s reluctance, which only meant that the problem, whatever it was, was personal. Kuwabara trusted Shindou to say something if he foresaw disaster for everyone involved (despite the brat’s denial, Shindou was too much of an onmyoji not to do so).
“You were sleeping,” Kuwabara said.
“Was not!”
“I suppose laying your face directly onto your schoolbooks is a new method of intense study,” Kuwabara said, hauling the boy to his feet, who did not give more than a token resistance. As he dragged Shindou down the hallway and out the front door, he added, “And the distinct snore is proof of your concentration!”
“I do not snore,” Shindou said, obediently locking the wooden gate behind him. The house was naturally protected by more than a mere metal lock, but it was always wise to reinforce the magic with something physical. Still, Kuwabara enjoyed thinking about the lovely surprises any future thieves would have in attempting to rob this house.
“If those weren’t snores, they were an exceedingly good imitation of one,” Kuwabara said.
“I’m very good at that,” Shindou replied, “since I wasn’t sleeping.”
Kuwabara chortled. Life was definitely harder with the brat around, but the old man could not deny that Shindou’s absence would also make it far less interesting. Shindou’s bravado was admirable, but stupid. Sometimes Kuwabara wondered if the boy would ever learn that he needn’t work out his personal problems on his own.
Probably not.
“Well go on. I gave you the place’s image earlier,” he said.
“I still don’t see why I have to go along with you,” Shindou grumbled, still playing the lazy disciple (which Kuwabara knew, but preferred to pretend he didn’t know). Whatever Shindou’s problems were, he was going to have to deal with his problems on his own, including his reasons for refusing to tell Kuwabara.
There was a slight change of expression as Shindou focused on the image Kuwabara had mentally sent him earlier. Specks of light appeared on the surface of the boy’s skin, growing more numerous as the seconds passed by. Then, in a sudden burst of light that seemed to come from the center of Shindou’s body, the boy disappeared.
Kuwabara sent out a mental probe to make sure that the boy ended up where he was supposed to. When his location was confirmed, he grunted slightly in approval, then followed.
He arrived a moment later in the middle of a mountain forest, the narrow, dirt road beneath his feet clear of plants and debris. Though the day proved to be cloudless, with the afternoon sun still strong, the place was dark from the towering cedars above them, allowing for little undergrowth. Kuwabara shifted, trying to redistribute his weight so that he could stand more easily on the sharply angled surface. At least he hadn’t had to climb all the way from the bottom. Times like these made him thankful that he was an onmyoji.
“Ah, here he is now.”
“Good afternoon, Ashiwara-kun.”
Kuwabara looked around, noting Shindou standing a little off to the side, the odd one out, as he was the only one in the group dressed in modern clothes. He knew it wasn’t the only reason why Shindou was standing apart from everybody else, but it would be useless to address the problem now.
Ashiwara-kun wore his most basic onmyoji work robes: pale blue hakama and a white cotton over-robe, with the two blue silk tassels attached to the front neatly tied together in a knot. Kuwabara knew that Touya Akira, the one who was technically in charge of this assignment, would also be similarly dressed, though his tassels would be far shorter and not tied, an indication of his beginner’s rank. “No accidents while I was on my way here? Good.”
“Why would there be any?” Shindou said, recognizing Kuwabara’s reference to him and bristling at the fact. “I only arrived a second before you did!”
Knowing that silence on his part would only annoy the brat further, Kuwabara merely ignored him, then turned to Ashiwara, who was here as the young Touya’s supervisor. In Kuwabara's private opinion Ashiwara was also far too young to be assigned to such duties, but then again, that was why Kuwabara had been requested to oversee this particular case, however boring it was.
“Has Touya-kun not arrived yet?”
“Oh, he was here a while ago,” Ashiwara-kun assured Kuwabara. “He’s doing a preliminary survey of our surroundings. We’re going to be fairly preoccupied with the house, and Akira-kun doesn’t want to be surprised by anything that could come at us from the outside.”
The boy in question arrived then, landing lightly on his feet from where he’d been floating above the trees.
“Kuwabara Honinbou,” Touya Akira said, bowing politely. “It is a privilege to work with you today.”
“This is your first assignment, isn’t it boy?” Kuwabara said. Then chuckling, he added, “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve brought Shindou-kun along with me, but I think the experience will be good for him.”
Touya Akira remained cool and composed, a point Kuwabara conceded to the boy. Not that he was any harder than Shindou to tease. No, it just took a different tactic to do so, and when he was hit, the the boy’s reactions were just as entertaining, if not more so, since compared to the brat, Touya Akira was far more reserved. Odd that the quiet boy had far less secrets than the brat who normally didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. It was an interesting contrast, and Kuwabara narrowed his eyes in amused speculation as he worked through possible reasons.
“There are quite a few pools of power here,” Touya Akira said quietly, his soft green-blue eyes flickering to the newcomers. “I judge them to be neutral, though if something out there wishes to twist them to its own purposes, it can be done easily enough. I keyed the ones that are closest to my power so that they can’t be tampered with, but the others…”
“The pools would explain why people found the place so eerie,” Kuwabara said, frowning at the information. “They can be shielded or drained, depending. Anything on the building we’ve been asked to look over?”
“I sensed nothing,” Touya Akira said. “But that means little.”
“Yes, just so,” Kuwabara agreed. From the corner of his eyes, he watched Shindou carefully for a reaction. He had not briefed the boy on what they were here for, but in the normal course of things, Shindou should be demanding an explanation soon.
That the brat didn’t, and instead remained silent, was proof enough that whatever he foresaw had to do with this particular assignment. He was looking more agitated by the second, his mask of flippancy rapidly wearing away.
“Shall we head to the building?” Ashiwara-kun asked.
The building, a traditional Japanese house looking dilapidated with age, appeared unremarkable, heavily shaded by tall, Japanese cedars. Paper on the shouji screens have all but disappeared where insects and time had eaten through, and in its place someone had chosen board the place up, which meant the inside would allow little to no light. While ordinary people may believe that a house as old as this would have a ghost or two dwelling inside, onmyoji knew better. Kuwabara sensed only age coming from the house, and nothing else.
“What shall we do now, young Touya?” Kuwabara asked with a crooked smile, lifting one eyebrow to gaze at the boy. He had no intention of doing most or even half of the work for this assignment. The assignment had been given to the boy. He, and not Kuwabara, would be the one to complete it.
“We go in,” Akira said, his voice decisive. “I will go in first. It would be best, Master Kuwabara, if you went in last. That would be because…”
“An old fart like me is expendable, is that it?” Kuwabara said with a wheezing laugh, deliberately misunderstanding the boy’s intentions.
Akira paused, then went blithely forward as if Kuwabara hadn’t interrupted him.
“You are the one with the most experience, and should something choose to come at us from behind…”
“Ah, now you flatter me.” Kuwabara then motioned Shindou to go in front of him. “Well, brat? Were you waiting for an invitation?”
“I didn’t want to come here in the first place!”
The boy actually snapped at Kuwabara, something he had never done before. He might quarrel, argue, and whine, but until now, the brat had never said or done anything in true anger. Kuwabara frowned as Shindou followed behind Ashiwara-kun into the building, his body taut with tension. It was possible that having to hide his problems on top of dealing with Touya Akira’s presence was proving to be too much to handle. For a moment he contemplated sending the boy away-it was one thing to have personal problems, but another story altogether if it was going to affect their assignment. And that would surely teach the brat, if not to share his problems with someone else, to at least learn better control.
Something made Kuwabara hold his peace though. Keeping a careful eye on the brat, Kuwabara watched as Shindou followed Ashiwara into the building. Then Kuwabara stepped through the doorway and slid the screen shut, plunging them into darkness.
* * *
Akira immediately created a ball of light, where it hovered above their heads, glowing a warm, comforting yellow. He tried not to look at Shindou, who stood silently behind Ashiwara-san. There was an odd expression on the other boy’s face-a growing sense of unease that was beginning to worry Akira, but he knew better than to confront it now. Shindou, being Shindou, would simply deny it, and Akira didn’t have time to engage in another mental tug-of-war.
“It looks like this place hasn’t been cleaned in years,” Ashiwara-san said behind him, noting the nearly ankle deep piles of dust on parts of the floor. It was one reason why none of the onmyoji had bothered to remove their shoes. When the owner finally decided to clean this place up, a few extra scuffles on the hardwood floor would be the least of his worries.
“Thirteen years to be precise,” Akira said. He summoned the scroll that held all the details about the assignment. “The last family to stay here was a newly-wed couple on their honeymoon. It’s written here that after they left, the hired hands who had arrived to ready the place for the next tenant began experiencing odd events that couldn’t be explained. The job was left undone after too many complaints, and the place has not been visited since then.”
“So why are they opening the place up now?”
“The building has acquired a new owner who is eager to set the rumors to rest,” Akira said.
“Any details on the so-called ‘odd events’?” Master Kuwabara asked, his bushy eyebrows lowered to the point where the old man’s eyes were nearly hidden. He did not seem at all bothered by the dust, with his hands clasped behind his back and his back stooped forward in thought. Akira did notice though that some of the piles of dust near the Master’s feet seemed to move away from wherever Master Kuwabara was. So the old man was not nearly as unbothered by the filth as he appeared to be. And as Akira continued to watch the old man, he realized that Master Kuwabara kept fixing his eyes in Shindou’s direction. So Master Kuwabara knew Shindou was hiding something. That he too said nothing meant it wasn’t something either of them could do anything about. Taking his cue from Master Kuwabara, Akira began to keep a closer watch on Shindou as well.
“Strange balls of light appearing and disappearing both inside and outside,” Akira answered, turning the scroll to the exact spot. He had studied it continuously for the past few days, and rather thought that he could probably recite it by memory now. “Voices where there are none, and the sounds of instruments and dancing when there is nothing to be seen. Odd areas of extreme cold or extreme heat that would last for only a short period before reappearing elsewhere. Vague shadows even in areas brightly lit. One person who I suspect was at the very least a sensitive gave an accurate description of a kodama, specifically a cedar tree-dwelling one.”
“Foxglows, a spirit parade, and the aftereffects of gates to the spirit world opening and closing, which were probably caused by spirits arriving to participate in the spirit parade, and the foxglows would have been there to accompany that,” Ashiwara-san concluded, though he remained thoughtful. Then he laughed, half-amused by the list. “Those things were common enough occurrences during the Heian period, but nowadays it’s rare to have any one of those happen by itself, never mind all of them at nearly the same time.” Now utterly cheerful, he added,
“Sounds like thirteen years ago the denizens of the spirit world had quite a party. I wonder what it was for?”
Akira nodded, having come to the same conclusions himself. He highly suspected that whatever the celebration, it was most likely a one-time event and unlikely to happen again.
“The owner wishes to make sure that such things will no longer occur. We’re here to see if all those things were a one-time occurrence or if it has continued to take place regularly for all these thirteen years, and if possible, to prevent anymore of them from happening in the future.”
“Hmph. It sounds simple enough,” Master Kuwabara said. “I can tell you right now though that no gates have been opened here for at least the past ten years.”
“As expected of a Master,” Ashiwara-san said with open admiration. “I can only sense as far back as three.”
“The places where the fabric of space and time had been ripped to create a gate are mostly healed after ten years, but if you look closely with your senses, you should be able to see a slight outline,” Master Kuwabara explained, his lips forming a crooked smile that would have probably frightened Akira if he’d still been a small boy.
“I would like to go to the rooms where the gates were created,” Akira finally said after a few seconds of silence passed. He had hoped that Shindou would say something during the exchange, but Shindou had merely tightened his expression and turned his gaze near the vicinity of his sneakers. “According to the reports, the room with the highest amount of disturbance was the bedroom.”
He began to walk down the corridor, using his magical senses to determine the rooms. While Akira had naturally been provided with a map of the building that he had dutifully memorized, it was far easier to simply follow the disturbances in the fabric of space time. Master Kuwabara had been right about the outlines, and Akira wondered how Ashiwara-san could not see them, as they positively glowed to Akira’s senses, a bright burst of warm color in an otherwise dark landscape.
When they were still a room away from the master bedroom, Akira was forced to pull his senses back into himself. By then, the glowing was so strong that it would have blinded him had he not.
“Just how many spirits decided to come here?” Ashiwara-san whispered, awed. Even he was able to sense all the former gates in the room. “I’ve never seen anything like this. What about you, Master Kuwabara?”
The Master frowned, but said nothing. Instinctively, Akira’s eyes turned in Shindou’s direction. Shindou was quiet, and whatever he was thinking or feeling was so carefully masked Akira wondered what he could be going through to make that necessary. He longed to mindspeak the other boy, knowing that some of Shindou’s feelings would reveal themselves if Shindou bothered to reply, but something made him hesitate. In the state Shindou was in, would he even be able to hear Akira?
They stepped into the bedroom, a medium-sized, rectangular room of eight tatami. From the faded look of the door screens, Akira saw that in its prime the screens had been luxuriously painted to imitate the cherry trees in full bloom, though only faint outlines of the branches remained now as a dark brown smudge. The straw mats were falling to pieces, with holes here and there that indicated the places where insects and rodents had chewed through.
But it wasn’t the room that caught Akira’s interest. It was the presence he felt, though it had long disappeared. Whatever it had been, it had held such a strong aura that even after thirteen years, the room had managed to retain the memory of its passage. Accompanied with that presence was a feeling that filled Akira with comfort. Something wonderful had happened in this room, an event that had not occurred in far too long, and the creatures of the spirit world had come to celebrate its coming. He extended his senses tremulously, and caught the echoes of music and song long gone. A wedding, perhaps? Unable to contain his curiosity, Akira went deeper. No. A birth. A birth that had been long awaited.
“Something was born here,” Ashiwara-san said, echoing Akira’s thoughts. He too had been caught up in the memory of celebration, and wore a soft smile in response.
“No, not quite,” Akira said quietly, though his heart fluttered at the memory of incredible joy, not at all dampened even after thirteen years. “A conception. Whoever it was had been conceived here, not born. But it spelled that being’s return, as the conception would have guaranteed a birth. A return in more ways than one. I sense that the being had been absent also in the spirit world.”
“Hmm, now that we know what had happened here, I think we can reassure the owner that this building is safe. An event of this magnitude will not happen again...” Master Kuwabara trailed off. Akira wondered how the old master was dealing with the lingering memories in this room. Master Kuwabara did not look quite happy, but the expression on the old man’s face was one Akira was certain had rarely been seen by anyone.
“I wonder what had been bor-conceived here, and what happened to the child later,” Ashiwara-san murmured. “Whoever he or she was… he must have been someone important.”
From behind them, Akira felt Shindou shift. Akira tensed in anticipation, sensing that finally, Shindou was going to talk.
“Me.”
There was so much anguish in that one word that it took all of Akira’s self control to remain where he was. Next to him Master Kuwabara didn’t seem at all surprised by Shindou’s action, leaving only Ashiwara-san, to blink slowly as they all turned to face Shindou. The boy’s head was angled down, studying the floor and walls, hiding his face from view.
“It was me.”
Shindou looked up then, not to reveal Ho-Oh’s shining brilliance, but Shindou’s own gray eyes. In the following silence, Akira felt his heart clench. One tear slowly dripped down Shindou’s cheeks. The boy did not bother to wipe it, even when more came to join the first, forming a continuous streak that glowed under Akira’s mage light. It flowed like a burst dam, and the torrent that followed weren’t only tears.
“I…” Shindou began. Then he swallowed, finally stepping into the room. “They’d loved each other so much,” he said. “I wanted… I wanted to be a part of… tha-It was selfish of me.” The tears rapidly increased. “But I thought… I thought…”
“Shindou…” Akira found his right hand reaching out to touch Shindou’s left shoulder. When the touch did not meet with resistance, Akira cautiously sidled closer to the boy. Shindou did not react to his presence at all, almost as if he was oblivious to it.
“I didn’t mean to hurt them,” Shindou said, his voice cracking at the very end.
“You’re forgetting something though,” Akira said. A part of his mind was in a panic, frantically trying to figure out what to say. He pushed that part of him aside with all the strength borne from years of training. “Your parents weren’t the only ones who had been here. The spirits, all the creatures of the spirit world… you can feel what they must have felt, can’t you? Their joy?”
“That was a long time ago,” Shindou said, turning to look at him. Shifting his other shoulder, he raised his arm to wipe the remaining tears away with his sleeve, a gesture that for some odd reason didn’t strike Akira as particularly childish.
“They still feel it,” Akira insisted, with a surety he didn’t know he had. But somehow he knew, with feeling and certainty he couldn’t explain, though he knew that if he wanted to find out, he could do that too. And even as he knew that, he found himself backing away from that option. There were some things he didn’t want to know yet. “I’m glad you came back,” he whispered.
For the first time that day Shindou’s attention was completely focused on Akira.
“You are,” the boy said, his voice solemn. His eyes began to glow, not the bright silver of Ho-Oh’s eyes, but of another kind of light.
Just as Akira was about to take a step closer, the remnants of the memories held in the room finally gathered, and before any of the others realized what was happening, like the sudden roll of a tidal wave, they were swept up in it.
* * *
So much love. So much joy.
Akira opened his eyes to find himself in darkness that somehow glowed at the same time.
“Shindou?” he whispered.
Yes, yes I will be reborn here. With such love, surely they will care for me, as much as I care for them. I have decided.
Then in a burst of light the darkness was torn asunder to reveal a being so beautiful Akira found himself speechless. The being wavered, one moment that of a beautiful, multi-color plumed bird with sweeping feathers, the other of a creature vaguely resembling something human, gowned in the same colors as the feathers. Akira couldn’t decide what gender the being was, then realized that it was a pointless question. In this place, to this creature, a thing as shallow as gender did not matter.
I come.
The light grew too bright to look at, and from it came the sweet notes of birdsong, soft at first, then gradually becoming a crescendo of music so powerful Akira felt that he might burst.
I am here!
* * *
When Akira came to, it was to realize that somehow, he’d ended up on the floor, his arms clutching Shindou tightly to his chest.
“Will you let go?” Shindou demanded in an all too Shindou-like tone.
“Oh. Ummm…” Akira felt his cheeks heat up, and knew that he must be blushing furiously.
“You’re not letting go,” Shindou said into his chest. “It’s getting hard to breathe.”
Akira had not meant to throw Shindou away from him, but he was suddenly having trouble controlling his muscles.
“Sorry!” he said, struggling to his feet. Shindou glared at him, then stood up also, slapping the dust out of his jeans.
“Ugh, I’m covered in this crap.”
“Sorry,” Akira said again, then turned to Ashiwara-san and Master Kuwabara. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay Akira-kun,” Ashiwara-san said with a twinkle. “I won’t mention this in the report.”
His blush, which had been fading, returned twice as strong.
“Th-thank you.”
“Ah, to be young again,” Master Kuwabara said, breaking out into a series of loud, wheezing brays of laughter.
“Shut up,” Shindou said rudely. He looked like he wanted to say more, and Akira had no doubt that each would be progressively more outrageous than the last.
“Huh, the aura here has faded completely,” Ashiwara-san suddenly said, looking around. “Do you sense anything? Akira-kun? Master Kuwabara?”
Master Kuwabara paused, his lips forming into a ghost of a frown that progressively deepened.
“You’re right. That is strange. Very strange. Even if the aura had disappeared, the outlines of the gates should have remained. They’re still there, but now so faint that if I hadn’t sensed them earlier today, I would never have found them. And that too is strange.”
A stirring conviction deep in Akira’s gut told him that he ought to know, but Akira couldn’t understand how he could. That same conviction told him now that somehow, something had been completed, and task done, would never appear again.
“Even the feeling of joy is fading fast,” Akira said, extending his senses to the memories that were suddenly being leeched away. By who, or what, Akira didn’t know. Again that feeling came. A feeling that he ought to know, and that it was very important that he did, surfaced again. He ignored it.
“What about you, Shindou-kun?” Ashiwara-san asked. “Those were your memories.”
“I’m… not sure,” the boy said, his voice uneasy. “But it won’t harm anyone, I know that for certain.”
“Can we make a report with the way things are?” Ashiwara-san asked Master Kuwabara. “I agree with Shindou that nothing here is likely to hurt or startle anyone ever again, but…”
“That’s up to Akira to decide,” Master Kuwabara said.
Silence fell over the group as all waited for Akira to make his decision.
“We leave,” Akira said. “We are done here. I’ll stay back here and create a few wards to ensure that no more gates from the spirit world can be opened here without going through the Council. Tomorrow I will then report to the owner that he may begin renovations.”
Master Kuwabara nodded.
“Then I am done here as well. Come along, brat.”
Shindou followed his master out of the room, the expression on his face at once thoughtful and inscrutable. Once again, Akira wished that he dared try to find out what Shindou was thinking.
By the time he had gathered enough courage to try, Shindou had already left.
* * *
This was going to be the last time Hasami ever used the skills of a tanuki. It had been an hour since the dragon brat had left, yet the creature was still wailing.
“Shouldn’t have done it!”
“It worked perfectly fine. I told you I would hide your trace, and I did. None of them noticed anything,” Hasami coaxed, at once irritated yet also feeling triumphant. It had worked so well. Father would be pleased.
“No… no… shouldn’t have,” the tanuki moaned, hiding his face with both front paws.
“Why not?” Hasami asked, nearly snapping with impatience.
While kitsune and tanuki were both masters of illusions, tanuki illusions were different in that the illusions often enhanced what was there, a skill Hasami, if he were to be honest with himself, lacked. Tanuki pulled from their surroundings, not merely changing, but blending as well. It was therefore easy for a tanuki to recreate the moment of Ho-Oh’s conception. Gunpo had been one of the thousands that had flocked to celebrate that moment, and it was child’s play for the tanuki to weave his own intense feelings of joy into the fabric of his illusions, to give strength to old portals to the spirit world, and last of all, to bring the last of the lingering memories of Ho¬-Oh to reenact its first moments one more time.
Hasami had explained to Gunpo why this must be done of course. Though reluctant at first, the tanuki had eventually agreed. It helped that Gunpo, though one of the most skilled illusionists in the spirit kingdom, was also the most gullible and greedy. Merely flashing a bit of gold across the old tanuki’s face was enough to get him eagerly agreeing to anything Hasami offered.
“I… I… I… m-m-made him cry!” Gunpo wailed, now truly weeping. “Shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t have made him cry. I hurt him!”
Hasami felt the truth of those words like a knife to the heart, and his earlier feeling of triumph bled away, leaving a cold, sick feeling. The tanuki’s wailing began increasing in volume, but Hasami couldn’t bring himself to silence the creature. He was following his father’s orders, and Gunpo, despite his very visible regret, was not innocent. After all, hadn’t he taken Hasami’s gold? Hadn’t he been as eager to bargain for his services as Hasami had been, once the old tanuki had realized how much Hasami was willing to pay?
If only the tanuki would stop his ceaseless wailing.
A/N: Tanuki are often associated with good fortune, so I made it so that the one here would be attracted to gold and money. Legends portray them as being good (unlike their foxy counterparts), but extremely gullible and not too bright. Thus we have Gunpo, a tanuki who was eager to do anything for money, but very, very remorseful once he realized the result of that greed. Kitsune and tanuki do not get along per se, but as creatures associated with illusion, there's bound to be a bit of rivalry. There are numerous stories where good natured bets over who is better at illusions than who take place.
It must be noted that the tanuki tends to win most of these bets.
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