afk
See you bastards Saturday. Don't do anything I wouldn't do -- or at least, don't get caught. I'll be at Diamond Lake with about fifty songs between me and violent slaughter of my nearest and dearest. We might go to Crater Lake, though -- and if you think that's exciting, at least now we're going to an actual LODGE and staying INDOORS. Back in the day we thought we were living high when the campground had flushing toilets.
Also, if anything interesting happens tell me about here! D:
----
my december 08 : between the bars
Satoshi thought, I knew things were going too well to last. The warmth he had felt around Niwa drained from him, leaving him colder than ever.
His stepfather smiled at him kindly. "Who was that, Satoshi? A friend?"
Satoshi didn't answer. In the back of his mind, Krad stirred, old and vicious. Satoshi could only hope that his father would let him go soon; Krad might be weakened from the night before, but so was Satoshi, and if Krad chose to make things unpleasant Satoshi might not be able to stop him.
"Funny," said his father. "It looked like the Niwa boy."
"Did you need something, sir?" said Satoshi. Niwa was not going to be dragged into this. He was not going to let his father provoke him. He was not going to admit that Niwa was a weakness.
"I missed you," said his father coaxingly. "I just wanted to see my son."
As this was slightly more likely than the grass turning pink, Satoshi didn't answer. He waited. Krad was definitely awake now, but he wasn't doing anything - yet. Satoshi had the feeling that he was only waiting to see what Satoshi's father was up to.
"I thought we could have dinner together," his father said. "Just the two of us."
Krad growled.
/No!/ said Satoshi.
//Insolent upstart,// hissed Krad.
/Wait,/ said Satoshi. He didn't expect Krad to listen but he subsided a little, with a feeling like a hunter settling down to wait for his prey to come out. "That sounds very pleasant, sir, but --"
"Oh, don't worry about your schoolwork!" said his father cheerfully. "I won't keep you out all night."
His father did not approve of Satoshi attending school and knew that Satoshi usually finished his homework in class. Satoshi didn't take a step away but he braced himself.
"Your teacher told me how well you're doing," continued his father. "I'm so proud of you."
Satoshi and Krad were briefly but strongly united in the feeling that his stepfather was up to nothing good. Satoshi wished he could find a way to leave; Krad wanted to find out what this upstart was planning, and teach him his place. Satoshi hesitated. "Very well, Father," he said reluctantly. "If you insist."
---
"Dad," said Daisuke, poking his head in Kosuke's study, "Hiwatari-kun said you visited him this morning."
Kosuke looked up and tried not to smile nervously. "I was a little worried," he said. "He seems to be a nice kid."
"Yes, he is," agreed Daisuke. He smiled at Kosuke, Emiko’s smile, bright and loving, and went off to his room.
Kosuke looked down at his papers and tired to tell himself that everything would be all right. He hadn’t liked the way Hiwatari-kun looked: old and tired, too old and tired for a fifteen year old boy, as if he had lived for too long and wanted only to rest. He could tell Hiwatari-kun was on the edge of power failure, the terrible exhaustion that came after expanding too much magical energy for too long. Probably Hiwatari-kun could be more or less restored, if not cured, by a long rest and peace, but Kosuke knew the chances of him getting it were so poor as to be simply not worth calculating. Dark was right; Hiwatari-kun was dying, as surely as if he had a physical cancer.
He didn’t know what to do. If he told Daisuke, it would only worry him. If he told Dark -- but Dark knew already, and Kosuke had an idea that as much as Dark might sincerely pity Hiwatari-kun, there wasn’t a lot he was willing or able to do to help him. At most all Dark could do was not attack Hiwatari-kun first, but that did noting but keep the drain on him down to something Krad could control.
And obviously Krad /didn’t/ control it, obviously Krad was perfectly willing to drain Hiwatari-kun dry.
If Kosuke told Daisuke, he might refuse to respond to an attack; that would mean less strain on Hiwatari-kun but would only lead to Daisuke's defeat, at best, because Krad had no regard for the health or life of his host -- and even less, if possible, for Daisuke's.
Emiko-san would say that he and Daisuke had no business worrying about the Hikari boy. So would his father-in-law. But...
They’re just boys, thought Kosuke. Why do they have to bear this?
---
Satoshi ate what was put before him mechanically. He couldn’t taste a damn thing anyway. It was all so much cardboard in his mouth, although he could see that his father’s cook had done his best. He was a bit of an artist, and tried to make everything look like it came from a food magazine.
He waited for the blow to fall. He knew there would be one, but he didn’t know what it would be or how harshly it would fall on him.
His father talked about nothing in particular, things that Satoshi could answer as mechanically as he put food in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. He had a strange gleam in his eye that Satoshi distrusted intensely; he might as well have said out loud that he had something up his sleeve that Satoshi wasn’t going to like one goddamn bit.
“Well!” said his father. “That was delicious.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now that we’ve eaten ...” he paused. “I have an idea.”
“Yes, sir?” said Satoshi warily.
“I wanted to show you something,” said his father. “In the vaults.”
Satoshi’s hands went cold and clammy.
---
Kosuke stated at the papers on his desk, records of the Niwa-Hikari feud. There were stories here of past Niwa and Hikari, how they lived and died, who they married and what their spouses had brought to the families. He’d found notes, almost ravings, from people who had thought perhaps things would end if a daughter from one family married a son of the other, half-insane theses of the way the power was transmitted from one generation to the next.
He even had a short diary from Hiwatari-kun’s mother, filled with an anguished, scrawled hand that detailed her pregnancy and the terrible dreams she had suffered, mixed with incoherently expressed, consuming love for her unborn son. She wrote that she could hardly bear knowing what she had condemned him to. She’d noted seeing Emiko-san and him at the doctor’s office, wrote of her agonized envy that the Niwa child would have both parents and, even if he was a boy, something like stability and love before his fate overtook him. Mixed in with her pain were perfectly cold, clinical charts and notes of her pregnancy, and of the sire she’d found for her child.
The most terrible part was a series of thumbnail sketches of Hiwatari-kun as a baby; delicate bits of art in the old notebook, the baby laughing or sleeping or crying. They were full of pride and affection.
Kosuke flipped through it and came to rest of the genetic charts for Hiwatari-kun and Daisuke. Daisuke’s was incomplete; Hikari Rio had never met him and didn’t know enough of his family background to be able to fill more than a sketchy outline.
“Has power,” she noted. “Unknown strength.”
The Niwa side was painstakingly exact, charting marriages and degrees of power from each of Daisuke’s ancestors. For a while the Niwa apparently had bred for power like the Hikari had -- or they had been very lucky with the girls they married. Possibly they’d fallen in love with girls with power /because/ they had power. Kosuke noticed that most of the girls had ‘recessive’ marked by their names -- it seemed that if you put a Niwa boy in a room full of girls, they’d go for the one who came from a line of mages and people with power, and yet displayed no magic of their own. Most Niwa girls in the direct line chose husbands like Kosuke, who had at least some active magical ability.
Kosuke closed the book and reached for a chart of Daisuke’s lineage from both sides of the family. He looked at it for a long moment and sighed. He had to tell Daisuke, he thought. Maybe he could do something. Maybe he couldn’t, but either way, Daisuke had to know.
---
The vault was underground, reached by many flights of stairs and ramps. The air was chilly and damp, with a slimy feeling of earth and underground water. It was a horrible place to keep art; Satoshi had always supposed his revered ancestors had hoped the things stored there would molder quietly away before they caused problems by gaining souls -- or coming to the attention of the Niwa clan. Satoshi thought that the sight of the vault would drive Niwa's mother into hysterics. But then again, he had a strong impression that a tour of the Niwa home would send him to the hospital with a bleeding ulcer, so they were probably even.
But here, at least, Hikari work was (if not safe) unlikely to be admired and draw enough emotion to come to life. It hurt him a little anyway, to think that all this artwork had no better fate than to fall to dust and mold in this underground prison. At least the Niwa family took care of what they took. Hikari art was dangerous: Satoshi knew this better than anybody. If it meant he had to lock it away so it couldn't hurt anybody, he would.
He hoped Niwa liked the pictures from the ancestor who'd liked kites. He was pretty sure that the Niwa collection had a painting he'd done of a group of children playing with kites. One of the models had been a Niwa daughter. That painting, from all Satoshi had heard of it, deserved to be in a lighted room where people could love it.
The passages down to the vaults were made longer by the fact that the family had never dared bring electricity past the first basement. Less because of the explanations (he thought his grandmother had been capable of hiring it done and disposing of the workers) and more because of the sheer scope of the project. The vault was at least twenty-five feet below the lowest part of the tunnels that ran beneath the city. Probably deeper than that. After the first basement you felt your way down by lantern or candle light. Satoshi wasn't exactly used to it, but he went down once or twice a year to check on the seals, so it didn't bother him. Much.
Even so, following behind his father, both of them carrying lanterns, he felt cold and anxious. It would be horribly easy to trip and fall on the stairs, which had no railings. Even easier to push someone. He tried not to think about it, but he was glad to be behind Hiwatari.
The worst part, though, was that all the artwork in one spot gave Krad energy. He grew stronger with every step downward, feeding off the ambient power from the art.
"Have you been down here lately?" said his father. He was as calm as if they were walking down the street, which made Satoshi even more nervous.
"No, sir," said Satoshi. Krad's thoughts were seeping into his own, thoughts like 'push him down it would be an accident but it would be too good for him the horrible little upstart'.
"Are you frightened of it?" asked his father.
Satoshi set his teeth and ignored Krad's outraged hiss. "I came at New Year to check the art."
“Ah, yes,” said his father. He looked around the dark vault with a strange, proprietary smile.
Also, if anything interesting happens tell me about here! D:
----
my december 08 : between the bars
Satoshi thought, I knew things were going too well to last. The warmth he had felt around Niwa drained from him, leaving him colder than ever.
His stepfather smiled at him kindly. "Who was that, Satoshi? A friend?"
Satoshi didn't answer. In the back of his mind, Krad stirred, old and vicious. Satoshi could only hope that his father would let him go soon; Krad might be weakened from the night before, but so was Satoshi, and if Krad chose to make things unpleasant Satoshi might not be able to stop him.
"Funny," said his father. "It looked like the Niwa boy."
"Did you need something, sir?" said Satoshi. Niwa was not going to be dragged into this. He was not going to let his father provoke him. He was not going to admit that Niwa was a weakness.
"I missed you," said his father coaxingly. "I just wanted to see my son."
As this was slightly more likely than the grass turning pink, Satoshi didn't answer. He waited. Krad was definitely awake now, but he wasn't doing anything - yet. Satoshi had the feeling that he was only waiting to see what Satoshi's father was up to.
"I thought we could have dinner together," his father said. "Just the two of us."
Krad growled.
/No!/ said Satoshi.
//Insolent upstart,// hissed Krad.
/Wait,/ said Satoshi. He didn't expect Krad to listen but he subsided a little, with a feeling like a hunter settling down to wait for his prey to come out. "That sounds very pleasant, sir, but --"
"Oh, don't worry about your schoolwork!" said his father cheerfully. "I won't keep you out all night."
His father did not approve of Satoshi attending school and knew that Satoshi usually finished his homework in class. Satoshi didn't take a step away but he braced himself.
"Your teacher told me how well you're doing," continued his father. "I'm so proud of you."
Satoshi and Krad were briefly but strongly united in the feeling that his stepfather was up to nothing good. Satoshi wished he could find a way to leave; Krad wanted to find out what this upstart was planning, and teach him his place. Satoshi hesitated. "Very well, Father," he said reluctantly. "If you insist."
---
"Dad," said Daisuke, poking his head in Kosuke's study, "Hiwatari-kun said you visited him this morning."
Kosuke looked up and tried not to smile nervously. "I was a little worried," he said. "He seems to be a nice kid."
"Yes, he is," agreed Daisuke. He smiled at Kosuke, Emiko’s smile, bright and loving, and went off to his room.
Kosuke looked down at his papers and tired to tell himself that everything would be all right. He hadn’t liked the way Hiwatari-kun looked: old and tired, too old and tired for a fifteen year old boy, as if he had lived for too long and wanted only to rest. He could tell Hiwatari-kun was on the edge of power failure, the terrible exhaustion that came after expanding too much magical energy for too long. Probably Hiwatari-kun could be more or less restored, if not cured, by a long rest and peace, but Kosuke knew the chances of him getting it were so poor as to be simply not worth calculating. Dark was right; Hiwatari-kun was dying, as surely as if he had a physical cancer.
He didn’t know what to do. If he told Daisuke, it would only worry him. If he told Dark -- but Dark knew already, and Kosuke had an idea that as much as Dark might sincerely pity Hiwatari-kun, there wasn’t a lot he was willing or able to do to help him. At most all Dark could do was not attack Hiwatari-kun first, but that did noting but keep the drain on him down to something Krad could control.
And obviously Krad /didn’t/ control it, obviously Krad was perfectly willing to drain Hiwatari-kun dry.
If Kosuke told Daisuke, he might refuse to respond to an attack; that would mean less strain on Hiwatari-kun but would only lead to Daisuke's defeat, at best, because Krad had no regard for the health or life of his host -- and even less, if possible, for Daisuke's.
Emiko-san would say that he and Daisuke had no business worrying about the Hikari boy. So would his father-in-law. But...
They’re just boys, thought Kosuke. Why do they have to bear this?
---
Satoshi ate what was put before him mechanically. He couldn’t taste a damn thing anyway. It was all so much cardboard in his mouth, although he could see that his father’s cook had done his best. He was a bit of an artist, and tried to make everything look like it came from a food magazine.
He waited for the blow to fall. He knew there would be one, but he didn’t know what it would be or how harshly it would fall on him.
His father talked about nothing in particular, things that Satoshi could answer as mechanically as he put food in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. He had a strange gleam in his eye that Satoshi distrusted intensely; he might as well have said out loud that he had something up his sleeve that Satoshi wasn’t going to like one goddamn bit.
“Well!” said his father. “That was delicious.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now that we’ve eaten ...” he paused. “I have an idea.”
“Yes, sir?” said Satoshi warily.
“I wanted to show you something,” said his father. “In the vaults.”
Satoshi’s hands went cold and clammy.
---
Kosuke stated at the papers on his desk, records of the Niwa-Hikari feud. There were stories here of past Niwa and Hikari, how they lived and died, who they married and what their spouses had brought to the families. He’d found notes, almost ravings, from people who had thought perhaps things would end if a daughter from one family married a son of the other, half-insane theses of the way the power was transmitted from one generation to the next.
He even had a short diary from Hiwatari-kun’s mother, filled with an anguished, scrawled hand that detailed her pregnancy and the terrible dreams she had suffered, mixed with incoherently expressed, consuming love for her unborn son. She wrote that she could hardly bear knowing what she had condemned him to. She’d noted seeing Emiko-san and him at the doctor’s office, wrote of her agonized envy that the Niwa child would have both parents and, even if he was a boy, something like stability and love before his fate overtook him. Mixed in with her pain were perfectly cold, clinical charts and notes of her pregnancy, and of the sire she’d found for her child.
The most terrible part was a series of thumbnail sketches of Hiwatari-kun as a baby; delicate bits of art in the old notebook, the baby laughing or sleeping or crying. They were full of pride and affection.
Kosuke flipped through it and came to rest of the genetic charts for Hiwatari-kun and Daisuke. Daisuke’s was incomplete; Hikari Rio had never met him and didn’t know enough of his family background to be able to fill more than a sketchy outline.
“Has power,” she noted. “Unknown strength.”
The Niwa side was painstakingly exact, charting marriages and degrees of power from each of Daisuke’s ancestors. For a while the Niwa apparently had bred for power like the Hikari had -- or they had been very lucky with the girls they married. Possibly they’d fallen in love with girls with power /because/ they had power. Kosuke noticed that most of the girls had ‘recessive’ marked by their names -- it seemed that if you put a Niwa boy in a room full of girls, they’d go for the one who came from a line of mages and people with power, and yet displayed no magic of their own. Most Niwa girls in the direct line chose husbands like Kosuke, who had at least some active magical ability.
Kosuke closed the book and reached for a chart of Daisuke’s lineage from both sides of the family. He looked at it for a long moment and sighed. He had to tell Daisuke, he thought. Maybe he could do something. Maybe he couldn’t, but either way, Daisuke had to know.
---
The vault was underground, reached by many flights of stairs and ramps. The air was chilly and damp, with a slimy feeling of earth and underground water. It was a horrible place to keep art; Satoshi had always supposed his revered ancestors had hoped the things stored there would molder quietly away before they caused problems by gaining souls -- or coming to the attention of the Niwa clan. Satoshi thought that the sight of the vault would drive Niwa's mother into hysterics. But then again, he had a strong impression that a tour of the Niwa home would send him to the hospital with a bleeding ulcer, so they were probably even.
But here, at least, Hikari work was (if not safe) unlikely to be admired and draw enough emotion to come to life. It hurt him a little anyway, to think that all this artwork had no better fate than to fall to dust and mold in this underground prison. At least the Niwa family took care of what they took. Hikari art was dangerous: Satoshi knew this better than anybody. If it meant he had to lock it away so it couldn't hurt anybody, he would.
He hoped Niwa liked the pictures from the ancestor who'd liked kites. He was pretty sure that the Niwa collection had a painting he'd done of a group of children playing with kites. One of the models had been a Niwa daughter. That painting, from all Satoshi had heard of it, deserved to be in a lighted room where people could love it.
The passages down to the vaults were made longer by the fact that the family had never dared bring electricity past the first basement. Less because of the explanations (he thought his grandmother had been capable of hiring it done and disposing of the workers) and more because of the sheer scope of the project. The vault was at least twenty-five feet below the lowest part of the tunnels that ran beneath the city. Probably deeper than that. After the first basement you felt your way down by lantern or candle light. Satoshi wasn't exactly used to it, but he went down once or twice a year to check on the seals, so it didn't bother him. Much.
Even so, following behind his father, both of them carrying lanterns, he felt cold and anxious. It would be horribly easy to trip and fall on the stairs, which had no railings. Even easier to push someone. He tried not to think about it, but he was glad to be behind Hiwatari.
The worst part, though, was that all the artwork in one spot gave Krad energy. He grew stronger with every step downward, feeding off the ambient power from the art.
"Have you been down here lately?" said his father. He was as calm as if they were walking down the street, which made Satoshi even more nervous.
"No, sir," said Satoshi. Krad's thoughts were seeping into his own, thoughts like 'push him down it would be an accident but it would be too good for him the horrible little upstart'.
"Are you frightened of it?" asked his father.
Satoshi set his teeth and ignored Krad's outraged hiss. "I came at New Year to check the art."
“Ah, yes,” said his father. He looked around the dark vault with a strange, proprietary smile.