Inochi

By Linda

Chapter 3

I’d grown more restless that day, unable to contain myself as we traveled further south, further away from my home. Even the small villages we passed through and the ever-growing numbers of travelers didn’t hold my interest as they usually did. I felt an itching all over that had nothing to do with the dirt on my skin or the straw that had worked its way into my robe. This was something invisible that crawled over my flesh, up my spine, and around inside my head and I didn’t like it. It made me nervous and even more unsettled, and I could scarcely contain myself, moving from one part of the cart to the next, enough to earn a quelling glance from Hamanari. I subsided, but only for awhile; in a little bit, I found myself moving aimlessly once again.

Hamanari called a rest period in the middle of the morning, unusual for him, as we usually ate dried meat and drank water while on the move. I climbed from the cart and paced as far as my chain allowed, which was not far, needing to move, aching to run away. Or to run toward something; I wasn’t exactly sure. Something further south seemed to call to me at the same time it repelled me. I’d noticed the feeling beginning to build two days ago, but had dismissed it as simple nervousness. It wasn’t, though; this was almost a physical pressure, one that made me both afraid and anticipatory.

Though we didn’t have the soup, Kyo did heat water for tea, and we had more of the journeycakes and salty-tasting dried meat of some kind. It seemed my tea was sweeter than it usually was, but I didn’t protest; I’d never had much tea, as that was saved for my older brothers, and to have something sweet before the fruit ripened was not a thing I’d willingly pass up. Hamanari had been very free with the sweet tea, giving it to me every night, and I wondered that he was so wealthy he could give so much to me. Of course, if he’d paid so much gold for me, he was wealthy indeed.

I knelt on the ground and sipped at my tea, and quietly watched as Hamanari and Ryou conversed in quiet tones. If I tried, I could probably hear them, as my ears were very sharp, but didn’t try; whatever I heard I could do little about anyway. After a moment, Hamanari turned his attention in my direction, and strode to me.

“We’re getting closer to Midori,” Hamanari said quietly, hunkering down next to me. I thought it odd that he bothered to even speak to me; he’d practically ignored me the entire time we’d traveled together.

“Midori?” I looked up at him curiously, then remembered that given he was my Meijin, I probably shouldn’t do that, and looked down again at the ground. I blinked; my vision seemed curiously fuzzy around the edges.

“Midori is where I, and now you, live.” His voice dropped low, coaxing, and I couldn’t resist its pull. “It’s a city of scholars and mages. A beautiful city, middling size, full of temples and schools. People of all kind mix and mingle freely there, both slave and freeman.”

Hamanari’s soft voice continued on, speaking of Midori, of the area around, of this and that. After a few minutes, I began to lose track of what he said, and later, I suspected he spoke of things of little importance. It was his voice, deep and calm, that mattered, not the words. It lulled me, as sweetly soothing as the tea, and I felt myself relaxing, felt my head nod downward, my eyes growing very heavy. The tenseness of my muscles began slowly unraveling, the itch crawling up my spine and into my mind fuzzing out, and I sighed, wanting nothing more than to lie down on the rough grass and sleep.

As I grew sleepier, I was vaguely aware of Hamanari’s arm slipping around me, supporting me, and without thinking, I curled into the warmth of his body. He smelled so good, like fresh green plants in the sun, and for a moment, I forgot who he was and who I was, Meijin and dorei, master and slave, and nestled into his chest. I could hear his heart beating beneath my ear, slow and steady, the rush of air into his lungs.

Sleepiness made me lose my fear of him, and when he lifted me from the ground, I wound my fingers around his long braid and tucked it close to my own chest with a happy murmur. He was so very warm. I was aware of him placing me in the straw of the cart, of pulling away in spite of the discontented sound I made, his fingers unwinding his hair from my fist. I thought I felt his hand smooth over my hair, but then I was aware only of the darkness that rose up to claim me, dragging me down into its softness.

I’m not certain what woke me; perhaps it was a lurch of the wagon, perhaps it was Kyo’s singing. Perhaps it was the itch inside my head, stronger now than ever before. I sat up and rubbed my scratchy eyes, and realized from the low slant of the sun, that I’d slept away almost all of the day. I had never been one to sleep in the daylight hours, and my head felt all fuzzy, as if wrapped in blankets. The itchy feeling still buzzed around inside my head, but for all its strength, it felt oddly muffled. I blinked, and shook my head, feeling off-centered and not quite myself.

Hamanari still rode off to the side, his fair skin windburned and reddened with cold, but the tiredness I’d seen creeping in over the last two days had lifted from his expression; anticipation now lit his long narrow eyes, and a corner of his mouth curled upward. I blinked again, and looked around me. Rumbling along a dirt road, we approached a walled estate almost as large as my old home, but the walls stood in much better repair, the bricks neatly mortared, the outside gleaming with whitewash. The walls were twice and half again my height and the big ironclad double wooden gates stood open to admit us. A large man armed like Ryou with a naginata, the long blade shining wickedly in the sun, stood poised just within the opening.

At his side---I blinked, suddenly unsure, and pressed closer behind Kyo, peering out around his thick thigh. Standing just within the gate was a figure with shimmering long hair the color of an autumn leaf, the color of the gold Hamanari had paid for me. I thought at first the figure, tall, and slim and graceful, clad in loose sky-blue trousers and a wrapped tunic, and thongs on bare feet, was a woman. But as we drew closer, I could see the breadth of shoulder and the width of chest and narrowness of hip that marked a man. But he was no man as I’d ever seen before. As the wagon rumbled closer still, I could make out tall ears atop his head, tawny gold in color, big and graceful-looking, like a fox’s ears, perked forward, and gods above, around his ankles lashed a long, full tail the same color as the ears.

Although I’d never before seen one, I knew what stood before me. My heart beat an odd little tattoo, and somewhere deep within me, I had the strangest sense of recognition. Kitsune. Fox-demon---child of the fox-god Inari. Not human, like myself, not beast, but a blend of both. Astounded that I should actually see such a creature, I gripped the edge of the cart until my knuckles whitened on the worn wood.

Hamanari clucked to his horse, and rode in ahead of us, bridle harnesses jingling merrily. I watched as he rode in through the gate, and the slim creature met him with a flashing smile. The sharp-chinned face was neither completely male nor female, but a startling mixture of both that caught my attention and held it, completely. He was beautiful; easily the most perfect thing I’d ever seen in my entire life, and I could not take my eyes from him.

~This~ was a kitsune? To hear my family speak of them, of the ancestor whose blood tainted mine, they were horribly ugly, vile creatures, barely above the worms in the dirt, vicious and cruel and nasty. This kitsune was as far from that as ever I could imagine, and the reality as compared to what I’d always been told made me a little dizzy from the spinning of my thoughts. Why had they told me such things? Why had they lied to me?

Hamanari leaned down from his saddle with a smile of his own that completely transformed his stern features, and to my utter surprise, he kissed the kitsune on his wide, full mouth. My breath caught, and a curious tightness hummed through my body, settling down low in my belly. It was not a kiss between friends, or a kiss I might give Mai, but something deeper, something far more intimate. I felt my face burn, and I made myself look away. It was a kiss between lovers; even with no experience at all in those matters, I could see that.

When I looked up again, Hamanari had dismounted, and the golden creature had wrapped around him. Somehow, he’d fitted his body into the Meijin’s, and managed to rest his blond head on Hamanari’s shoulder, though in truth, he was both taller and broader-shouldered than the Meijin. I could hear him making a happy sound, almost a feline purr, and caught a scent of...something...I couldn’t quite pin down, but that made me feel oddly warm and pleased.

Kyo brought the cart to a halt. I held onto the side of it and peered out, curled into a little self-protective ball. Behind us, the iron gates closed with a deep, ringing clash, and I looked back, watching the guard barring the gates from anyone else. I swallowed hard, bile rising in the back of my throat, my head pounding wickedly from the anxiety welling up from deep within me. All that I’d known before, all I’d been sure of my entire life, had officially ended with the closing of those heavy gates. My life, such as it was, now began again, my feet on a far different path than ever I had imagined.

I pulled my eyes back from the tightly closed gate to the courtyard around me. Many people bustled around, all looking as if they had something specific to do, bent on one task or another. They ranged in age from a child scarcely larger than Mai to an elderly man with hair as white and thin as thistledown. I saw many large men stationed around the grounds; their eyes were hard and watchful, like Ryou’s, so I assumed they were guards. I wondered if these people were all Hamanari’s slaves, or if they were freemen working for him. Everyone I saw looked remarkably clean, well dressed, and healthy. No one was as thin or raggedy or dirty as I was, and I had a flash of self-consciousness at my own sorry state.

This many people in one place made me a little nervous; in spite of the trip, of having seen many travelers pass us, I was still unaccustomed to the number of them. The only people I had ever been around had been my family, and I had seen only the odd poacher or bandit, and few enough of those. I could feel their ki all around me, and it was like a hive of bees buzzing in my head, crawling and humming along my nerves. Before, the most people I’d seen in one place had been at Father’s funeral pyre, and their collective ki had been muted, then.

Kyo climbed into the back of the cart and unfastened my chain. I held on to the side of the cart, my knuckles white against my skin, not wanting to move. The cart, and Kyo, were now the only familiar things in my world, and I didn't want to leave either.

“I’m afraid,” I said softly to Kyo. “I’m really afraid.”

Kyo had been so careful to maintain his distance since Hamanari had ordered him whipped; he still moved stiffly from that punishment. But at my words, his face softened and his dirt-colored eyes warmed a little. He flicked a glance over my shoulder at Hamanari, who spoke with Ryou and the kitsune, then reached forward and stroked the long lock of hair that lay on my chest. His big hand then patted my chest roughly, awkwardly, and I knew he meant to comfort me.

“Will go to good place. Special. Meijin said so. Meijin not lie.” His voice was surprisingly gentle and kind.

Kyo rose from his crouch, and tugged at my chain. I held onto the side of the cart a moment longer, then realized the futility of it, and followed him off the back of the cart. He led me around to the side, and we waited for the Meijin to acknowledge us. Clutching my chain tightly, I edged around almost behind Kyo, his bulk and his calm, simple, unruffled ki soothing amidst all the confusion. I tried to reach for that cold, blank snowfield that I’d found helped to settle me, but it was too far away.

“Yare, yare. What do we have here? Come out, come out, little mouse.”

The voice was a low alto, not quite male and yet not quite female, and made me think of water, smooth and flowing. I peered out from behind Kyo, and looked up into the kitsune’s face. He was easily as tall as Kyo though far slimmer, and up close, he was even more impressive than I'd first thought, with an alien, nonhuman beauty that made my breath catch, and my heart beat hard within my chest. He was like a man and yet not; even beyond the ears and tail, he could never be mistaken for a human---he simply ~felt~ different, and his movements were more fluid and graceful than human muscle and bones could attain. His ki shimmered about him, strong, red-gold with generous veins of darkness, though curiously muted-feeling, as if it was confined in some way. Although he had the smooth, perfect, unlined skin of a youth, and his body was slim and supple, I somehow knew he was far older than he appeared; his ki felt ripe with experience. His expression was one of idle, somehow distant curiosity, the kind one might have when looking at an insect one hadn’t seen before but wasn't interesting enough to really study. I felt my cheeks grow warm at his cool scrutiny.

Then I noticed his eyes. At first I’d simply thought them a pale color, perhaps blue, like the Meijin’s; those had been startling enough after spending all my life surrounded by a dark-eyed family. But the kitsune’s eyes were not blue. Beneath a thick fringe of gold hair and fine dark brows, his eyes were large, and had a definite upward tilt to the outer corners, with long dark lashes, incongruous against his fairness. It was their color that made them odd, that caught my attention; their color was golden, somewhere between the brightness of a gold coin, and the warm color of honey.

In shape, in color, they were identical to my own eyes.

Amusement crossed his face, and he reached out a slim finger. His nails were very long and sharp, like claws, and I felt the prick of the one when he nudged under my chin to close my mouth, fallen open in astonished recognition. He turned my face from one side to another, looking at me, and I felt a sting as the point of his nail bit through the soft, tender skin beneath my chin. He made a ‘tcha’ sound of disappointment.

“Really, Ari-sama. You traveled all the way to the northern territory for this dirty, skinny, ugly creature? It smells like goats. No, it smells ~worse~ than goats.” Those remarkable eyes slid over to the Meijin, a faintly malicious smile curving his mouth. “What a waste of time.”

I tossed my head, freeing myself from his touch, and his nail cut a long scratch beneath my chin. It stung, and hurt, but not as much as his words. I’d heard them all my life from my family, but to hear them from someone so exotic, so beautiful, somehow made them cut even more deeply, hurt more intensely. I knew I was ugly, was different, and even though we shared the same eye color, on him, it ~fit~ in a way it never had, and never would, on me. My mouth set in a firm line, my chin lifted a little, and I made my face smooth, unwilling to let him see the hurt and fear that roiled around within me and settled in a tight hot ball in my belly.

“Enough, Kin’iro. Stop tormenting him.” Hamanari turned from talking with Ryou, and his voice was low and calm, as always. “I do as I see fit.”

Kin’iro. Golden. If that was the kitsune’s name, it fit, and perfectly. His long full tail swished, and a tall ear flicked, but those were the only signs he gave of the reprimand.

“Of course, Ari-sama. As you wish.” But the look he gave me was sharp and as cutting as his nails, wholly at odds with the smooth cool voice. Kin’iro smiled as Hamanari slid an arm around the kitsune’s waist, big hand moving proprietarily over his slim hip. “You are the Meijin.” To my surprise, Kin’iro leaned in and licked across Hamanari’s throat, his tongue flashing pink against Hamanari’s wind-burned skin.

“Yes. You’d be wise to remember that.” Hamanari’s hand moved to stroke over the long silky fur of Kin’iro’s tail; it shone in the setting sun like my uncles' silken robes. “I wish for you now to go to my quarters. I wish a bath, and a meal. Then I want...rest.”

Hamanari’s voice dropped lower on that last word, and I watched as a delicate flush of pleasure spread over Kin’iro’s face, as his lush mouth curved into a smile, as his tail swished slowly around his ankles. Suddenly I became aware of a scent, deep and musky, far different from his previous scent of warm grasses in the sun. This one circled around in my nose before diving straight for my belly, to curl and tighten there. It seemed to tease and caress places within me never before touched, to awaken things I'd never known existed, and I felt myself stir, felt my flesh begin to fill and rise beneath my robe. Mortified, I clapped my hands over the front of my robe, certain the thin material would hide nothing. Heat chased up my throat and bloomed in my cheeks, and I felt it extend out to the pointed tips of my ears.

Kin’iro’s golden eyes slid over to me, down the front of my body to my hands covering myself, and he laughed mockingly, making my face burn hotter. “Well, Ari-sama,” he said silkily, “you know now he’s fully functional.”

Hamanari gave Kin’iro’s hip a pat, and a little push toward the main house. “Get on with you and obey me. I’ll be within in a few moments.”

Kin’iro moved away in a smooth glide, but not without a last glance over his shoulder at us, his golden eyes bright. He flicked his tail at me in a clearly dismissive gesture, and caught, as if in a spell, I could only watch him helplessly until he disappeared.

Hamanari called Kyo’s name twice before the big man started, and shook himself like a hound shakes off water. His face was pink, and I could easily see he’d been as affected as I’d been, his flesh like a thick club pushing out the front of his breeches. It was a small comfort, knowing I was not alone in how Kin’iro made my body react.

“Yes, Meijin?” Kyo said, brought his attention slowly, reluctantly back to Hamanari.

Hamanari looked at me, his gaze thoughtful. I stood still beneath his regard and looked steadily at him before I remembered I probably shouldn’t look him in the eye, and looked down instead at my feet in their filthy tabi and straw thongs. Hamanari reached out, and plucked a bit of straw from my tangled hair. “Don’t take him to the pens. They’d eat him alive there. Take him to Haruna. You remember Haruna, Kyo?”

Kyo spared one last look in Kin’iro’s direction, then was silent a moment, and I could fairly hear him thinking. “Yes,” he said at last. “I know Haruna. Grey hair. Braids. Red eyes. She fixed me when I fell—long ago when I was littler.”

“Very good, Kyo. Haruna will be in the healer’s building by the pens. Look for her there. Remember...don’t take him into the pens. Take him to Haruna. Tell her to find a safe place for him. Make certain she gives him a bath and food and clothes. Stay with him to keep him from running away until I decide to do something else with him. Understand?”

“I understand, Meijin,” Kyo said. His bow was a little clumsy, but passable. I hesitated, then bowed deeply; my hair was long enough to trail on the ground. When I stood again, Hamanari was striding away, his gait purposeful and no longer weary.

Unselfconsciously, Kyo adjusted himself in his breeches, and I flushed a little. I was still hard, but I could feel it begin to fade, slowly. It had taken me by surprise, and I still wasn’t certain what had caused it, though I very much suspected it had been Kin’iro’s changing scent that did it. I banished the thought of how good he smelled and how beautiful he was from my mind; I wanted my erection to soften and go away, not stay. It was embarrassing. Instead I focused on his casual cruelty and hurtful words, and desire drained from me like water from cupped hands.

With a little tug of my chain, Kyo started across the courtyard, and I had no choice but to follow. People parted for him, even scrambled to avoid him; a glance upward showed me his face set into a scowl, and it was certainly intimidating enough. Although I had begun in fear of Kyo, I wasn’t truly afraid of him now; he’d been only kind to me in his own rough way.

“Kyo?”

I received only a grunt as an answer; not really very encouraging but I decided to plow on. “Kyo, who is Kin’iro?”

I had to trot to keep up with his long angry strides. My bones ached from the bumps and ruts the wagon encountered on the trip; I had practically no padding to protect myself, and the straw had helped only a little. We circled around the stately, red-tile roofed main building, evidently Hamanari’s home, bigger than the home I left behind, and in far better repair. Trading in the lives of people had made him rich beyond anything I could conceive, and felt a flash of bitterness that I shook off; I didn’t like the way it twisted inside my belly. Kyo led toward a group of buildings I saw a good distance away. Just when I thought he wasn’t going to answer me, he did.

“Is not nice,” Kyo answered finally. “Likes to tease me. Calls me stupid. Makes me hard, like that, then laughs. Don’t like him.” He flashed a dark look back at me. “Called you dirty.”

“I am dirty,” I said gently. I washed as often as I could, but until it grew warmer, and I could bathe in the pond, a little bit of freezing cold well water was usually all I could use. It was always so very cold in the winter that I couldn’t bear to be even colder, though I didn’t like to smell bad, didn’t like to have dirt crusted on my skin.

“Maybe. Called you ugly.”

“Kyo, I ~am~ ugly. I know that, and it is all right.” Still, I felt warmed by his defense of me; no one but Mai and my long-dead mother had ever bothered before to do that.

Again, that dark look flashed back at me. “Not ugly,” Kyo said decisively.

Chapter Four

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