Inochi

By Linda

Chapter 2

We traveled the entire day, stopping only twice. Both times the big driver, whose name I learned was Kyo, unlocked the length of chain from the front of the cart and took me into the woods to allow me to relieve myself in the shrubby undergrowth. Though I looked for an opportunity to escape him, he held the chain wrapped twice around his big fist, and his brown gaze was too watchful for me to seize any opportunity.

The deep woods made him uncomfortable, I could tell; he started at every small noise, every rustle of leaf and underbrush, the knuckles of his fist whitening around the chain. I could see the brown forest demons watching us from the shadows, their eyes red and hungry, and my sharp ears could hear the click of razored teeth and claws. Though I didn't really fear them, I did my business quickly and hurried back to Kyo's side. I saw no sense in tempting them, nor the slithering tendrils of plants that snagged unwary animals and men if given the opportunity. The woods were a dangerous place for those who were not quick and alert; so many things lived there that would be eager and willing to consume human flesh.

That night, we made camp a little distance from the road. I watched from the cart as Kyo gathered the wood and started a fire while Hamanari sorted through a large trunk beneath the seat of the cart and the guard, Ryou, patrolled around the small camp, eyes sharp for bandits or poachers who might seek to make trouble. The woods were full of them, I knew; I’d learned early to avoid them as I ghosted through the trees and watched their activities. Though I had been very curious about them and their activities, I had known enough to be wary of them; most of them looked rough and fierce and terrible, and not above killing anyone who saw them. Once in awhile they’d spot me if I were careless and give chase, but I eluded them easily, melting into the welcoming embrace of the forest as though I belonged to it.

In a little while, the fire burned merrily, and a small pot of something that smelled delicious bubbled over it. My stomach twisted and growled ferociously, but it was a familiar feeling, easily ignored. The night steadily grew bitterly cold, my breath a white fog before me and I huddled in my blankets and in the straw. I tried to get comfortable, but the collar and chain dragged heavily against my neck, heavier yet on my ki. My feet almost itched with the need to run, and I felt restless, nervous, at being held securely in one place. I hated it; I'd never been confined before. I kept tugging and twisting the lock holding the collar on, but naturally, it didn’t budge. I wished bitterly I had control of the curse instead of it having control over me, but it never seemed to respond when I needed it most; if it had, perhaps I could have broken the lock and escaped.

I watched Hamanari’s sharp profile, and again worried about what he planned to do with me. I knew this endless wondering was fruitless but I had nothing else to do but sit and think about it. He required no work of me; Kyo did everything around camp, his movements sure and skilled, as if he did this every day for his master. With my hands left idle and nothing else to occupy my mind, my thoughts spun in spirals like a leaf falling from a tree. I knew I was young, and in spite of my thinness, fairly strong; I might end up as a field worker. It would be familiar work, as we’d all had to pitch in with working in the rocky, barren fields to bring in enough of a harvest to feed ourselves. On the other hand, perhaps he would sell me to someone in town. I’d never been in a town before, though I knew what they were. We had been so isolated in the mountains that visitors seldom came our way, and when I was younger, they kept me out of sight, embarrassed by my demon blood. I’d been seven summers old before I ever saw anyone not of our family.

Kyo strode up to the cart, breaking the circle of my thoughts, and climbed into the back. He was so big---his back seemed as broad as that of the red horse pulling the cart, and his haori strained across the width of his shoulders and the swell of his arms. I’d have been a liar if I said he didn’t frighten me, for he did, as I'd never seen anyone so large. I scrambled back into the straw, and it rustled as I pressed myself against the side of the cart while he unlocked the chain from the ring set into the wood. It seemed not to matter; he didn't even glance at me.

Tentatively, I reached outward with my mind, feeling out his ki, the essence of him; it was simple and calm and unruffled, a warm, comforting blue. It surprised me; for some reason I would have thought it bright red with violence, like Ryou's. It did not even have the black threads of evil impulses and thoughts that almost everyone, save small children, had. He shook his head, as if a fly buzzed around him, as if he felt the light touch of my mind, and I withdrew.

He’d never said anything to me nor anyone else, and because I’d never heard a single word from him, I wasn’t certain if even he could talk, and I was too unnerved by his size to say anything to him. Kyo reeled me in closer by wrapping the chain around his big fist; fighting him was like resisting the pull of the earth upon my feet, and ultimately, just a waste of my strength. I let him tug me closer without protest. He pulled me in close, too close for comfort, and I could feel his warm breath on my cheek as his dull-colored eyes studied me intently. Heat rose up into my face, and I looked away, embarrassed at his open scrutiny, not caring if doing so pulled the collar tighter around my neck. He raised a hand, and I flinched away, expecting him to hit me, but instead, he caught a bit of my hair between his thumb and finger, and rubbed it experimentally, as if testing its texture.

That surprised me, and I turned back my face, really looking at him for the very first time. Though he was probably as old as Rei, his body big and muscular, and his face a man’s, hard and fierce, his eyes were those of a child, with the simple, uncluttered thoughts of a child clearly visible behind them. Seemingly unconcerned with my surprise, he gathered up a bit more of my hair, pulling it a little as he smoothed it through his fingers. I blinked as he brought it up to his face, smelt of it, and rubbed it over his lips. It was an odd and somehow very intimate thing to do, and I felt heat creep up into my cheeks. I would have understood an open-handed slap or a fist better; those things I knew very well.

Then Kyo’s fingers released my hair and he stood and pulled me unceremoniously from the cart, as if the last moment had never happened. Perhaps, I thought, as he roughly plunked me down before the warmth of the fire, it hadn’t, but had just been a figment of my imagination. He dropped my chain long enough to pick up a stake and a mallet, and I saw my opportunity. Hamanari and Ryou were out of sight, probably relieving themselves away from camp. I scrambled, trying to gain footing, to get away, to get space to run. I knew if I could get clear to run they’d have a hard time catching me, as I was fleet of foot, and my night vision exceptional.

I’d gotten two steps when the jerk of the chain coming to a sudden end caught me and flung me to my back onto the brown grass. The metal collar pressed against my throat, cutting off air, and I rolled, the movement easing the heavy pressure. In a heartbeat I was back on my feet, both hands pulling fiercely on the chain to give myself slack. Though I twisted and lunged, it was pointless; Kyo’s big foot held down the end of the chain. In an instant, he grabbed it up in his hands and jerked, hard. My strength was as nothing against his, and I went flying forward, landing at his feet with an “ooof” as the fall slammed the air from my lungs.

Calmly, Kyo picked up the stake and mallet, and hammered the stake into the ground. He fastened the end of the chain to the stake as if I’d never made an attempt to escape. I whooped loudly, felt cold air pour into my lungs, and could only lie there, trying to breathe through a throat that felt squeezed almost in half, my fists clenched around the rough dry grass in anger.

“Stupid boy,” Kyo said without anger. His hand closed in the neck of my robe and hauled me upright without any effort at all. “Can’t run away.” He gave me a shake that seemed to rattle all the bones in my body.

Angry that I'd not escaped, I felt myself grow even angrier at the ease at which he handled me, and I drew back my fist, feeling the tickling sensation of the curse growing in the back of my mind. Frustrated and afraid, I wanted to lash out at something, anything. I wasn’t used to fighting though, and Kyo easily avoided my wild swing and my kicking legs by simply holding me at arm’s length.

“Stop now,” Kyo said with another rough shake that threatened to snap my neck. “Won’t tell Meijin you tried to run away. Won’t whip you then.”

Somehow, Kyo’s words penetrated the red haze coloring my vision, punched through the anger to reach that part of my brain that didn’t itch to break and destroy things. I realized suddenly he was trying to help, offering to cover my actions, actions that would earn harsh punishment. He was trying to protect me, not hurt me. At that realization, the fight abruptly drained out of me, like water from a broken jar. However, the curse, now awake, thrummed inside me with just as much strength as before, demanding release. When Kyo released me, I curled into a little ball, laced my hands over my head and willed the curse to subside. It roiled around inside my head like a snake, demanding to be let out, to be set free, pounding against my skull from within. Denying it made my head hurt and burn and ache, but eventually, it subsided as I gasped for air against the pain.

I rolled over, my back to the fire, my back to Kyo, blocking him out. I tried to make my mind a blank, to think of nothing but the peacefulness of a snow-covered field, empty and white; sometimes, that helped to ease the pain. My head ached and pounded; every year, as I grew older, the curse seemed to grow stronger within me, and I didn’t know what would happen when it got too big to hold inside me any longer. I had a sudden vision of people breaking, like the lamps and bowls and crocks, and the picture was so vivid, so bloody, I felt bile rise in the back of my throat. Never, not even when Rei beat me, had I ever wanted to hurt anyone beyond escaping; even now I didn’t wish Kyo and Hamanari harm. It simply wasn’t in my heart to deliberately and maliciously hurt another.

I think I must have slept, because after awhile, I felt Kyo’s big hand on my arm, shaking me. Blearily I blinked, and sat up, rubbing my eyes. My headache was almost gone, and for that much at least, I was grateful. At some point in time he'd draped my blankets over me, and I was grateful for their warmth as my nose and face were very cold. Kyo pushed a bowl of soup in my direction, and numbly, I took it. He also gave me a flattish baked disk of something to eat; it was springy in my fingers when I pressed it, and when I brought it to my nose, it smelled edible. I watched Hamanari and Kyo and Ryou closely; they dipped it into the soup to soften and wet it, then ate it, so evidently, it wouldn’t hurt me. I followed suit, and found it delicious, though chewy. I searched my dirty robe for the last crumbs, licking at my equally dirty fingers to get the last bits.

Hamanari laughed, and it was so unexpected, it made me jump. “I believe you’re the only one I ever saw who actually ~likes~ journeycakes. Give him more, Kyo.”

I actually ate three more, another bowl of soup and a mug of hot, very sweet tea with an odd, though not unpleasant aftertaste on my tongue before my belly protested. I’d never really been full before, never been allowed to eat until I wanted to stop, and it felt...strange. The heat from the fire combined with the novelty of a full belly conspired to make my head grow heavy and nodding. I curled up onto the grass into as small a ball as I could manage, given the length of my arms and legs, tugging the blankets over me again and watched my captors with sleepy eyes. After cleaning the bowls and pots with leaves and sand, Kyo eventually settled by fire an arm's distance from me, and Hamanari also sat close, scrolls unrolled on his lap, reading.

I felt a slow stir of curiosity; I didn’t know how to read. Though I’d wanted to learn, my mind always as hungry as my belly, Father had decided it was unnecessary, that I was better left to working in the poor fields and scavenging for food. My two eldest brothers knew how to read; I remembered ten years before, creeping in and unrolling the scrolls one day and trying to decipher the flowing black characters. Though I'd never seen them before, they had seemed somehow familiar, and I knew that had I time, I could learn to decipher them, that it was something I'd once known, and could know again easily. Rei and Kei had found me sitting there, had shouted curses and driven me out with their hard fists. Though I had a very good memory, and scratched the characters I’d seen in the dirt with a stick, I could not recall that feeling I knew them. It was frustrating, the knowing and not-knowing, and scratching them into the dust meant nothing to me other than a wish denied, and I soon stopped doing even that. I wondered vaguely what Hamanari’s scrolls said, but then slipped off into a deep and dreamless sleep.

The next few days passed in much the same fashion as the first. A full day of travel, broken up only by infrequent stops to allow me to relieve myself, my chain clutched tightly in Kyo’s hand. It embarrassed me, and I hid in the brush to do so as much as he’d allow, but I was never allowed to wander far. If the weather grew warmer as we headed south, it was only slightly; it was still early in the year, though I could smell spring on the cold wind, see it in the gentle green haze of buds on the branches, a promise of leaves for summer. The countryside looked much the same, though the fragrant pines grew fewer, and bare-branched trees took their place, the forest thinning somewhat. My sharp ears didn’t hear the soft chitter of the little brown forest demons, and I’d not seen the hazy round shapes of ever-curious kodoma, the gentle woodland spirits, since we’d left the heavy woods surrounding home. I supposed that as the number of people grew larger, the number of forest demons and kodoma grew smaller; maybe they were afraid of people, though they’d never been afraid of me in my wanderings through the deep woods.

We seemed to pass more people on the road the further south we went. That was a novelty in itself; I’d never seen many people, and so I studied each one I now saw intently. Some were wealthy, but most were not, but I found each one very interesting and could not help but wonder what kind of life each person led whether they were slave, as I was now, or a free man. I’d often made up stories for Mai when she was hungry and couldn’t sleep, stories about distant places and people doing wonderful and heroic things, places where everyone always had enough to eat, beautiful things to wear, and were never cold. That thought made me feel homesick, and I sank back down into the straw and covered myself up with the blankets and listened to Kyo sing.

The big man was, as I’d first suspected, not the brightest creature in the Makai, but he was kind to me in his own rough fashion, and he liked to sing. Kyo had a surprisingly beautiful voice, amazing coming out of such a rough exterior, and he now sang all the time. I lay in the straw wrapped in my blankets, and his voice, as sweet as ripe berries, comforted me a little with simple songs about home, the marketplace, the village, and pretty girls who blushed and giggled and charmed. Hamanari had evidently appointed him my keeper during the trip, because it was Kyo who took care of me and saw to my simple needs; Ryou stood guard over us all, looking as fierce as stories of tengu and oni I’d heard as a boy. It was Kyo who set up the camps along the road, who made the food and pressed it into my hands as I sat wrapped in my blankets. It was Kyo who pounded the stakes into the ground next to the fire and attached my chain to them so I could get a bit of warmth. I didn’t speak, nor was I spoken to; they attended to my basic needs but otherwise ignored me. Food I had in abundance, as much as I could eat, and a cup of hot sweet tea every night; in this at least, Hamanari had not lied.

Strangely enough, Kyo didn’t seem put off by my ugliness; perhaps it was because he himself was so plain, his face as lumpy and unfinished looking as a tala root. As the days passed, Kyo liked to sit next to me at night next to the fire, so closely his thigh almost pressed against my own. Sometimes, his dull eyes would glance over to the Meijin, judging just how involved Hamanari was with whatever he was doing, and then Kyo’s hand would steal out to me and smooth over the long hair hanging down my back. At first I shied away, fearful of the touch of his big, heavy hands, but after I found that’s all he wanted, just to stroke my hair, to pluck the straw from the tangles, I allowed it with only a slight hunching of my shoulders. He never did anything else, seemingly happy with just that, and for his care of me, for his silence about my pitiable escape effort, I could bear to give him such a simple pleasure.

On the sixth morning on the road, I woke up warmer than I had ever been since Hamanari had taken me away from home. Warmth all around me, from the nape of my neck to my ankles; it seemed to envelop me. I blinked sleepily, half-heartedly attempting to puzzle out just why I felt so warm. It took a moment to realize the warmth about me was Kyo curled around me, his big arm across my waist, holding me in place before him, my back to his chest, my backside snugged securely into his groin, his heavy thighs close behind mine. I could feel the ghosting of his breath over my hair, feel the heat of him all along my back and thighs.

I startled enough to make my chain rattle loudly before I realized he still slept peacefully, his body relaxed and loose, his arm over my waist heavy with sleep. Relaxed, save for one part of him, grown hard and long, pushed into the small of my back. My eyes opened wider as I realized just what I felt pressed so intimately against me.

I tried to decide whether I should feel alarm; although Kyo had gradually been working himself closer to me over the length of the journey, he’d never dared before to be so close to me, to actually curl around me like that. I wasn’t afraid; his ki didn’t ~feel~ angry or hurtful. If anything, I felt as if Mai had crawled into my pallet for warmth. Even his hardness didn’t really frighten me; I’d woken up like that frequently for the past year, and just assumed it was something to do with growing into adulthood. I’d not woken like that since Hamanari had taken me from my home; any stirrings of that nature stopped immediately when I remembered how he’d touched me and made me hard against my will. The bitterness of that memory and the worry of what would become of me kept such things from happening.

I had decided to relax and enjoy the warmth when across the embers of the fire, in the pale grey morning light, I could see Hamanari’s blue, blue eyes watching me from beneath lowered brows. He shrugged off his blankets and rose from his pallet, and even in the dim light, I could see his face was as dark as an approaching winter storm. With measured paces, he walked over to us, and his mouth pulled down in a frown as he looked at us curled together. I didn’t like the angry look in his eyes and involuntarily pressed back into Kyo’s body, wondering what I’d done to so displease him.

As quick as a striking snake, Hamanari’s hands closed around my wrists and jerked me upward out of my warm nest; I was so thin and light it was scarcely any trouble for him at all. He pulled me close, and looked into my eyes, gone wide with surprise. His fingers bit painfully into my forearms, but the furious glint in his eyes frightened me more.

“Did he touch you?” Hamanari’s voice was low and even, and all the more terrifying for his absolutely calm tone.

I blinked at him, and wisely didn’t try to twist from his grasp, or step back. “Meijin?” I wasn’t sure just what he meant. Kyo touched me all the time---handing me food and water, sitting next to me at the fire, stroking my hair when he thought Hamanari didn’t notice. Somehow, though, I didn’t think that was what he meant; those were simple, everyday actions, and his whole attitude made me think this was something else entirely.

“Did he ~touch~ you?” His blue eyes bored into mine, holding me as securely as did his grip. One of Hamanari’s hands left my wrist, and settled on the slight curve of my backside through my thin, ragged robe. “Here. Did he touch you here?”

I felt heat travel up my neck and into my cheeks, and knew I must be scarlet. Although I knew men and women lay together to make children, I wasn't certain why he thought Kyo should touch me. I wasn't a woman, that he should do such a thing. I shook my head frantically. “No, Meijin. He just slept. He didn’t touch me anywhere. I swear it.” In spite of my good intentions, I tried to wriggle away from him, to get his hand off me. I didn’t like touch; it generally meant pain. I was relieved beyond thought when Hamanari’s hand lifted, returned to grasp my wrist again.

Kyo was waking, blinking his dull earth-colored eyes, looking up at us, at the grip Hamanari had upon my arms. He might not have been very bright, but he recognized anger immediately. Although I wasn’t sure how he did it, Kyo instantly folded his bulk onto his knees, his forehead in the grass, a posture of absolute submission. “Forgive, Meijin,” he said thickly.

Hamanari ignored him, and gave me a sharp shake that brought my attention instantly back to him. “Listen, Inochi,” Hamanari said, his voice low and soft and urgent. “Your value depends upon you remaining intact. Untouched. If you allow anyone to touch you, your value is diminished. I can’t sell you to the person I want to have you. You’ll end up someplace where they’ll treat you badly, where they’ll hurt you, and not care if they do. ~Don’t~ allow that to happen.”

“No, Meijin, I won’t.” I wasn't wholly certain why he was so intent, but I accepted it, shook my head, then gathered up my courage. I remembered how Kyo had been kind to me in his own rough fashion, how he’d kept quiet for me, and I couldn’t leave him to Hamanari’s anger. “Meijin…Meijin, Kyo’s a...child. He’s like my little sister Mai…maybe not even as old inside his head as she is.”

Those intense blue eyes flicked to Kyo, prostrate on the ground, unmoving, and his frown deepened. “He is a child, yes. But his body is that of a man. He forgets, sometimes, that he’s not allowed to touch the new slaves.”

“Meijin?”

“Obey me,” Hamanari said with a final shake before he released me. I staggered slightly, my chain rattling loudly in the thin cold air. Ryou had awoken, and watched the proceedings with predatory interest, his eyes as hard and cold as ice sheeting the pond at home. Hamanari turned to Kyo, who had not moved a single muscle. “Kyo.” His voice was terrible to hear, and I shivered in response. “Kyo. What is the rule?”

“Don’t touch. Don’t touch new slaves,” Kyo said promptly, his voice muffled, his face pressed into the frost-crackled grass.

“That is the rule. Did you break the rule?”

Kyo shifted, muscles rippling across his back beneath his robes. I could almost see him weighing what would happen, but finally, he came to a decision. “Yes, Meijin. He smells good. I touched his hair. So soft.”

“And now I find you sleeping with him. You touched. You disobeyed. What happens when a slave disobeys his master?” Hamanari’s voice was cold, and relentless.

“The slave who disobeys the Meijin is punished,” Kyo said, and I could hear the deep misery in his voice.

“How is the slave punished, Kyo?”

I wanted to cringe at the quiet, even tone of Hamanari’s voice. He never seemed to raise his voice. He didn’t need to do it---that quiet tone was far more effective for all its terrible calm. Kyo’s big hands knotted into the grass, and he shuddered.

“The slave who disobeys is whipped,” Kyo said finally, hopelessly.

“Yes,” Hamanari said softly. “The slave who disobeys the Meijin is whipped.”

Hamanari made a gesture to Ryou, who moved forward. He didn’t smile, but Ryou’s black eyes shone brightly in a way that made my stomach flip. He stood over Kyo and took something from his belt. He uncoiled it, and it spilled over the ground like a snake. It was a braided leather whip. I felt a coldness move over my skin, seep into the very marrow of my bones. Somehow, I felt guilty for this, that somehow it was my fault, though I knew it was not, truly.

“Meijin….” I began, but the sharp look Hamanari slanted in my direction made me close my mouth with a snap.

“Be still. Observe and learn. I am your Meijin, and I will be obeyed. No slave of mine is exempt from discipline.”

Clutching my chain tightly in my fists, I watched helplessly as Kyo stripped out of his haori, his robe and under robe, leaving his upper body bare, his lower clad in the breeches and wrapped leggings. Shivering in the bitter cold, he silently resumed his position, and Ryou shook out the whip again, and snapped it experimentally. The pop of the unraveled end made me jump in place. I could hear Kyo make a soft sound of dread.

“You obey the Meijin in all things,” Hamanari said firmly. “You are punished if you do not. Ryou, begin.”

I could not make myself look, and turned my face away, but my ears told me the story all too clearly. I could hear each time the sharp whistle of the whip flying through the air, the crack of it as it connected with Kyo’s broad, muscled back, Kyo’s initial silence giving way to grunts, and then to quiet sounds of pain. I counted two hands and three fingers worth of strokes before Hamanari bade Ryou to stop.

When I was certain he’d ceased, I ventured a look over at them. Ryou was out of breath, and he wiped his sleeve across his sweaty forehead. I saw the same look of unholy joy I’d often seen in Rei’s eyes when he managed to catch me and thrash me, and it made me feel sick---Ryou had truly enjoyed it. I glanced at Hamanari, expecting to see the same expression, but his hawkish face gave away nothing---no pleasure, no sorrow. I opened the gate in my mind and let that part of me that could see ki read him. His ki was unsettled, but wasn’t bright with pleasure, as Ryou’s was, which flamed bright scarlet, but was subdued, no longer the calm, steady yellow it had been. Ryou’s emotions beat at me, and hurriedly, I closed the gate before they overwhelmed me. Though Hamanari did not show anything, I knew he did not enjoy doing this.

Ryou coiled the whip again at his belt and strode away. I could hear all too well Kyo’s sobs as he cried like a child. A part of me wanted to comfort him, as I might Mai, but knew better than to try. In frustration, I pulled hard at my chains, the rattling clash of them loud in the early morning air, but Kyo had pounded the stake into the ground too deeply for me to pull it out.

As Hamanari walked past me, he spared me a glance. “Obedience is rewarded. Disobedience is punished. That is now the rule of your life.”

I sat down at the end of the length of my chain and rubbed my arms. I was cold, but it was not entirely due to the chill of the morning. I had just been given a glimpse into the life that was now mine, and I could not say it gave me any comfort, or hope. I knew I was strong enough to bear up under it, but then thought of Mai’s thin back bared for the whip of a crueler master than Hamanari, and I pushed away my hopelessness and strengthened my resolve. I would escape. Somehow, some way, I would make us a life where neither of us feared anyone.

After a few minutes, Kyo rose from his folded position. His face was dirty with dust and tears and snot, and he scrubbed at it with one big hand. He moved slowly and stiffly as he shrugged into his under robe and over robe, belting them securely in place. I had a glimpse of his back; fiery red lines of the whipping arced across the width of his back, and one or two had little beads of bright blood where the whip had broken skin. I felt a surge of nausea, and a shiver traced down my spine from the thought that had Hamanari known of my attempt to escape, I’d now be bearing the pain of those stripes. I realized in that moment what Kyo had, by his silence, saved me from. It was a sobering thought, but didn’t change my desire to escape. I’d just have to be more careful with my next attempt.

Without a word, Kyo took down the camp, packed up everything, and harnessed the red horse to the cart. Hamanari reappeared and saddled his horse, and swung up onto it with an easy grace I envied. Calm and distant once more, he watched from his lofty perch as Kyo tugged me into the cart and fastened my chain. Kyo was very careful not to touch me, and I tried to help him by keeping as far from him as I could so he wouldn’t accidentally brush against me and make Hamanari angry again.

It was an hour or more into the morning’s travels when I realized that I didn’t hear Kyo singing. Oddly enough, I missed it.

Chapter Three

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