Inochi

By Linda

Chapter 5

I woke when I heard someone slide the bolt and pull back the door in its track. Light flooded in, and raised a hand to shield my eyes. My eyes watered, and I blinked to clear them; the bulk marked the person standing in the doorway as Kyo.

“Wake up now,” his voice rumbled. “Eat, then chores. Haruna says must be busy so won’t think about running away.”

It took me a moment to collect my thoughts; I still wasn’t accustomed to the pounding of so many ki against my consciousness, and half-asleep, it was hard to block them out, to reinforce the closed door in my mind. I suspected the vague, disturbing dreams I'd had all night were a result of the despair I felt all around me. When I had gained control of myself again, I rose, and wrapped my outer robes around myself, belting them tightly. I combed my hair with the wooden comb Haruna had given me, folded blankets, rolled up the futon, and together, Kyo and I carried them back to the storage closet.

Kyo led me back to the warm, fragrant kitchen, where Natsumi had laid out trays of food for us. Miso soup, more rice, a piece of dried fish, hot green tea, not sweet, as Hamanari had always given me. No tala roots in sight, for which I was very grateful. We sat on the stools by the work counter, and ate while Natsumi puttered around; I caught her giving me sidewise glances out of the corners of her light brown eyes, and I wondered if I were still dirty, or had food on myself. When I finished what I’d eaten, Natsumi gave me more, evidently on Haruna's orders. It still amazed me that food was so abundant. I'd been tempted to hide some away, to save some in the event that the seemingly neverending supply might run out, but after thought, had realized that was foolish. I'd seen for myself that the pantry had been fully stocked, and besides, I had no place to hide it, with Kyo constantly on my heels.

Up close, dishing out more food for me, Natsumi smelled wonderfully of spices, and of another scent, the musk of a young woman, wholly different than my own smell, or Kyo's. I found it very...compelling, and it made me want to sniff the place just behind her ear, beneath the heavy fall of her hair, and the base of her throat, where I could see the pulse throb beneath her smooth pale skin. Her reddish hair looked very soft, as did her cheek and the curve of her breasts, as round as apples beneath her dark blue robe.

I realized I stared only when she gave me another sidewise glance and her cheeks pinked. I looked away, embarrassed that she'd caught me so obviously looking, and caught Kyo grinning at me. He nudged me with his elbow. “Is pretty girl, yes?”

With a horrified look, Natsumi fled the kitchen, and I wanted to sink through the floor.

I blinked at her hasty retreat, and gave Kyo a wry glance. “You’ve embarrassed her,” I said.

“Will be all right later.” Kyo’s eyes glanced in the direction she’d fled. “Is pretty, though. Would be very soft. Would be very warm.”

All I had to compare were the faces of my sisters, all still at home, unmarried because of a lack of dowry. None of them had ever looked very happy, and none of them had ever been as round-cheeked as Natsumi, not even the youngest ones. “I’ve never seen any girls other than my sisters, so I don’t know. But she looks pretty to me.” I drank down the last of my tea. My ears felt hot, and I knew they were pink. “Why was she looking at us like that?”

“Was not looking at ~us~. Was looking at ~you~.”

“At me?” I hoped my voice didn’t squeak as much as I thought it did. “Why?”

Kyo snorted and rolled his eyes. “And they call me stupid,” he said. I thought I should be insulted, somehow, but the amused expression on his face would not allow me to be upset with him. He stuffed the last piece of fish into his mouth as he rose. “Work now," he said, his words garbled.

We put our dishes on the counter, and went in search of Haruna. She put me to work cleaning out one of the storerooms while Kyo watched to make sure I didn’t run away. It was hard, sweaty work, and I soon stripped off the second outer robe and found a bit of string to tie back my hair. Kyo helped out with the bigger boxes; they proved nothing for his strength. After I moved everything out, and swept and washed the floor with a scrub brush and a pail of soapy water, let it dry, polished it twice with wax and a clean rag, I moved everything back in. I didn’t like the way the boxes had been when I found them, so I rearranged them in an order that made more sense; before, they’d been piled in haphazardly, and I wondered how Haruna ever found anything. Although like Kyo, I couldn't read, I could recognize like symbols and put things together by that system. It seemed the most sensible thing to do.

By the time I dumped out the dirty washwater, it was midday, and we went back to the kitchen to eat. The food was ready for us, but Natsumi was nowhere in sight, and I wondered if she still felt embarrassed from Kyo’s words. The afternoon passed much as the morning, with more moving things around and cleaning of other rooms. By the time the sun set and I went to the bath to wash and soak, I was exhausted, and my muscles strained and sore. At dinnertime, I ate mechanically, then made my pallet and went to sleep, too tired to contemplate running away.

My days followed the same routine for a month and a half with little variation. Haruna made certain I always had enough to do to keep me busy from sunrise to sunset. I washed and polished every floor, washed and whitewashed every wall, washed and polished every bit of woodwork. I took shojis off their tracks, stripped off the heavy oiled paper, dirty from a year's use, cleaned the shoji frames, and glued new paper onto them as she taught me before resetting them into their tracks. If she had a box or a crate, I went through it and then rearranged them until I thought they made sense. Under her close supervision, I washed all her instruments daily, refilled all her varied jars and small boxes with medicinal herbs from her stock, washed, dried, and rewound her bandages. I helped Natsumi clean every inch of the kitchen, and washed every pot and crock. I rotated supplies so that we used the oldest first. When Haruna could think of nothing else for me to do within the house, when it sparkled as she said it never had before, I began working on the outside of the house.

Haruna provided me with plenty of hard work, and as much food as I cared to eat. I ate almost as much as Kyo, and steadily gained weight until my bones no longer tented out my skin, and the work, which became harder as we entered the month of Gogatsu, made my muscles grow larger and sleeker. I began to feel strong and healthy, and swore that I grew taller, though Kyo measured me against his height and said I only imagined it. He did feel my arms and pronounced that soon I’d have as much muscle as he did. It made me smile, for I knew I never would, as his build was naturally heavier and bulkier than my own; I seemed destined to remain more slender, no matter how much I ate.

Gogatsu, with its milder temperatures, marked the beginning of gardening season. Haruna gave me a hoe and a pair of gloves and put me to toiling in her herb garden. Kyo worked at my side, singing happily. It was familiar work; it was a comfort of sorts to have something I knew how to do, and well. Once Haruna showed me the beginnings of the medicinal plants poking green and promising from the dark earth, and once she gave me the cloth packets with seeds to grow others and told me how she wanted them planted, the garden became my responsibility entirely. She stopped checking on me to make certain I wasn’t pulling anything up important, and left me to work as I saw fit. Some of the herbs seemed familiar, though I knew I'd never seen them before, and the feeling that I should know them nagged at me, frustrating. When I worked in the soil, when I coaxed the plants from the ground and watched them thrive, I could almost feel content. Almost. I was not a free man able to come and go as I pleased, and I missed Mai, but as Hamanari had promised, this life was much easier than the one I'd led before. Haruna treated me decently and seldom swore at me---Kyo often made me smile and his calm ki was soothing---and Natsumi's shy smiles made me feel warm and sometimes, not quite so freakish.

Kyo was not always with me; Hamanari sometimes took him as driver to deliver or pick up slaves. One of the guards always replaced Kyo when he was gone; they never left me alone, and still locked me securely into the pantry at night. I never made any attempt, or gave any indication I desired to escape. But I watched very carefully the movements of the guards outside, the times of their rounds, which areas they watched less diligently than others, biding my time, waiting for them to relax around me. I talked to several of them, attempting to curry friendship with an eye toward leniency, but they were cold and unfriendly, and no smile ever seemed to thaw them. I thought they might ease up on their watchfulness eventually, as long as I proved docile and easy to handle, but they remained vigilant.

Whenever Kyo returned from a journey, he greeted me like I imagined a brother should greet me. Always happy to see me, he would hug me until I thought I heard my ribs creak and I would squeak for air. Like a small child, he chattered excitedly about his travels, his big hands sketching pictures in the air as he talked. I think I was the only one who’d ever bothered to actually listen to him, and he loved it, fed on it, like the plants thrived under my care. I grew to like Kyo very much. He was gentle and kind with me as he was with no one else, and I eventually learned not to mind how he liked to touch my arm or back or shoulder, or stroke my hair.

He would tell me about the places he’d been, though sometimes his memory wasn’t as good as other times, and from him, I was able to work out a rough map of the area in my head, storing it there for later use. I would use what he told me, adding bit by bit to the information I needed to break free of this place. For as comfortable as I felt, as well as they treated me, I still wanted to escape, and nothing would ever change that.

I still found the ki of the place bore down like a heavy weight on me, and my head almost always hurt, but for the most part, as I grew stronger, I could shuttle it away, ignore it. I stayed far away from the pens, where it was most oppressive, and learned to live with it. At home, where it was only the family, only those I’d known from birth, my head had never hurt save when the curse sought freedom, but now it ached all the time.

I could still feel the curse stirring about in my head, slithering along my spine, waiting for a chance to break free, to destroy things all around me, but I’d managed to keep it inside, fought to keep it submerged. It seemed that now, surrounded by people of all kinds, it stirred more restlessly within me, seeking an outlet. Only two of the crocks in the pantry broke, both times early in my captivity, when the loneliness and frustration grew too great to bear. Haruna scolded me for my carelessness, and I cleaned up the resultant mess wordlessly, letting her think it was a misplaced elbow or knee instead of a curse trying to seek escape from me.

Haruna and I got along very well, or as well as could be expected, given her generally bad temper. Obedient and respectful of her age and her station in life, I went about my work without complaint. Actually, I was very glad for things to do; if I’d just been left someplace like the pens with nothing to occupy my hands, nothing to dwell on but my captivity, I was sure I’d have gone insane. I remembered well her words about how I needed to accept my lot, and to a point, I could, but still, I waited for the opportunity to escape. I wasn’t sure when it would present itself, but I vowed to be ready when it did.

Sometimes, when she had a patient, I quietly watched from the doorway, scrub brush and pail of water in my hands. She would look up to find me studying her, but curiously, never told me to go away. I found her healing arts fascinating, and watched intently when she ground herbs for medicines or poultices. Eventually, when she saw how quiet I was, she let me come closer and observe more of what she did, as long as I kept up with my other chores. If she found me underfoot annoying, she said little, and as Haruna was not a person who would hold back her temper about anything, I thought perhaps she really didn't mind that I was there. As I watched more, she began to tell me what the herbs were, how they worked, and I absorbed the knowledge eagerly, my mind hungry for more. She showed me how to wrap bandages, how to set broken limbs, how to sew up cuts and dust them with certain powdered roots that kept away the swelling and infection.

When she was very busy, she let me actually help with the sick or injured; I truly liked that, liked helping people feel better. It felt...natural that I should. As if it was something I’d once done in a time long ago, perhaps another life. I wasn’t certain that I believed such things as previous lives, but I couldn’t deny how very right it felt to take care of the sick. I bathed them, and changed them, fed them, and if they were young, I sat and told them stories, like I’d done whenever Mai had been sick. That always made homesickness wash over me; I wondered if anyone told her stories now.

Though she was temperamental and quick to yell at everyone, patients as well as guards, Haruna proved to be a healer without equal. Broken bones just seemed to set themselves in her small narrow hands, fevers to go away after a few doses of her special tea, other illnesses to cure themselves. Haruna worked very hard to help the sick, and when I helped her, I watched her closely, observing how she did things. At times, it seemed I should know how to do this or mix that, but when I reached for the knowledge, it disappeared like fog in the morning sun. As she grew to trust me, if the patient were really ill, she didn’t lock me in the pantry, but let me stay out in the room she called her ward under her watchful eye with the patient, sponging them to reduce fevers, spooning in broth and medicines. I wondered if this was to be my purpose, helping Haruna, and as a life, it was not a bad one, once I became accustomed to Haruna’s little quirks.

The end of Gogatsu, with its changeable weather and long, soaking rains, was also known as fever season, and with good reason. We saw many patients; with the large number of slaves passing in and out of Hamanari’s pens and the communal nature of the buildings, it was little surprise so many fell sick. I was amazed that Hamanari bothered with caring for his slaves, and mentioned it to Haruna, but she merely hmphed and said why wouldn’t he—it was merely ensuring more profit, as a healthy slave brought more money than a sick one. I could not argue with that logic.

During fever season, Haruna often stayed in the ward, sleeping on the floor on a futon either Kyo and I dragged in for her so she could be closer to those who needed her. It was during one of those late night vigils during fever season, when I sat with a patient so hot I thought his skin might burn my hands, sponging him off every few moments, that I felt her red gaze on me. I rinsed the cloth in cool water, then draped it over the man’s forehead before looking up at her.

“I thought you were asleep, Sensei,” I said quietly. “It’s very late.”

“Yes, I know.” She stretched a little, and her joints popped alarmingly. She rose, her hair unwoven from the customary braids, and standing up here and there, a long red mark along her cheek from where she must’ve rested it on her palm as she slept. I smiled at the rumpled picture; normally she was perfect, every hair in place, and her clothing wouldn’t ~dare~ to wrinkle. “How is he?”

“Still very hot. I was thinking about having Kyo take him outside for us and pouring water all over him to cool him off.”

“It’s a thought, and a good one.” Haruna came to the pallet and stood beside it, looking down at the young man, clearly weighing options. “However, before everyone gets wet, let’s try something else first.”

Inquisitive, I looked up at her from my kneeling position on the ground. Haruna shook her hands free of the long loose sleeves of her robe and clapped them together once, then again. Briskly she rubbed them together, then placed one on his forehead and the other low on his belly. Chakra points, my mind whispered, and when I concentrated, trying to capture the thought, it slipped away, as always, and I frowned. In the light of the one paper lantern, I could see a red glow begin to form beneath her fingertips, spread in a reddish/pink aura a little distance from her fingertips.

Amazed, I stole a quick look at her face; it was a mask of concentration, her fine grey brows knit together. Her ki swelled to twice its size, shimmering with red and purple and gold. She frowned, and the reddish light faded. Withdrawing her hands, she rubbed her fingertips together, as if they tingled. A part of me wanted to pull back, to make the sign against evil, but another part of me, bigger and stronger, squelched that thought, recognizing what I had seen. This was no curse such as I had---this was power, controlled as I could not. She had healing power in her small hands, in the big heart she tried so hard to convince everyone she lacked.

“Haruna Sensei,” I whispered, awed. “I never knew....”

“I don’t have much power, so I don’t use it often,” she interrupted irritably. “And never in large amounts. If I did, the Mage’s Guild would be all over me demanding membership dues and whatnot---I have no desire to be mixed in with their damned vile group.” She canted an assessing look in my direction. "As you should not."

I opened my mouth to ask her what she meant, but then she waved her hand at me in a gesture that I now knew meant the subject was closed, and when Haruna decided a subject was closed, I knew better than to pursue it further. With a sigh, I touched the backs of my fingers to the man’s fiery cheeks. “He’s better, but still hot....”

“Once more, then.” Haruna clapped her hands together again, and rubbed them, placing them back on the patient. I watched avidly as the reddish glow began emanating from her fingertips. Somehow, it stirred something within me to see it, made something ~move~ within my head and heart. I wasn’t certain if I’d dreamed something like this, or if it was a memory perhaps belonging to another life, but this seemed so very familiar, somehow. Impulsively, I reached out and put my hands over Haruna’s.

I jolted as the gates to my mind slammed open and ~something~ hot and white coursed through me, burning a path from the bottom of my spine, leaping upward like a fire raging out of control, swirling around in my brain, then out through my fingertips resting lightly on Haruna’s. Haruna gasped as our ki met and melded, and the body beneath our hands jerked upward, as if speared by lightning.

Power leapt from me, frightening in its strength, and I heard a roaring within my ears, almost as if it was alive and exultant with its freedom. I had never before felt anything like it. It was nothing like the curse. Panicked, I tried to shut it off, clamp down on it, tried to close that gate within my mind. It was like trying to close a door in the face of a ferocious wind. I struggled harder, then I felt it hesitate, taper, then shut down with an abruptness that slammed me backward onto the wooden floor, that made my heart pound as if I’d run for miles, that sucked the very breath from my lungs. Horrified at this, this ~thing~ that had come from me, I scrambled backwards gracelessly until I came to a halt against a shoji screen. I curled up as small as I could manage, my whole body shaking as if I had the fever myself.

Haruna rose from the man’s side, her face as white as milk, her red eyes huge and unsure in her face. Her voice was terrible. “Boy, what have you done?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know! I’m so sorry! Forgive me, Sensei!” I was so afraid my voice came out a wail, shaky and sounding as terrified as I felt. My head pounded as if something flung itself up against the gate, seeking freedom again, and that thought made my skin crawl and tingle over my spine. My hands and feet felt icy, and I felt somewhat disconnected from everything around me. Distantly, I heard heavy footsteps pounding through the clinic, and Kyo came to a sliding stop before the doorway, blinking sleep from his eyes, his clothes and hair askew.

“I didn’t mean it! It’s the curse—it just came out—I couldn’t stop it!”

Kyo looked around, saw nothing amiss other than me cowering in the corner and Haruna standing there, her face grim. He knelt down beside me, reaching to pat me, to offer comfort, but I shied away from him, scooting away along the wall, afraid for him to touch me, afraid the power would leap out of me again and hurt him. I couldn't bear it if I hurt Kyo.

I buried my head in my arms, and huddled into the corner, shaking hard enough to rattle my teeth. I could feel it still, feel the ~power~ tingling all along nerve and sinew and bone, feel it sparkle in my fingertips. I clenched my hands tightly to hold it in, afraid it would get away from me again. This was different than the curse; it felt completely different, and I had no idea of how to deal with it, or to stop it from happening again. The curse I knew, and could control a little, but this...I was wholly lost as to what it was and how to stop it.

His big hand settled on my shoulder, trying to pull me out of the corner, but I fought, twisting away from him, trying to curl up, trying not to hurt him, as I’d hurt the patient. I knew I’d killed him; something that strong surely would have burned him to bits.

Resisting Kyo was futile; though I was much heavier and stronger than when I’d first come to Hamanari’s, I’d never be as strong as Kyo. He sat on the floor and pulled me against him, patting my back, trying to soothe me. But misery would not leave me be, roiling and curling around inside me, strong enough that I could feel the curse seeking to be free again, feeding on the guilt and negative energy that flowed through me. All I could do was to hang on to myself and grieve.

Haruna’s hand ran over my head; I could tell her light touch easily. “Inochi.” When I didn’t heed her, her voice sharpened. “Inochi, dammit, ~listen~ to me!”

That impatient tone I recognized well, and responded to without thinking. I dared to peer out over my arms. Haruna looked strangely blurry, watery, and I realized I’d been weeping. “I didn’t mean to kill him—I swear to you, I never wanted to hurt him. Please, Haruna Sensei, please believe me....”

Haruna made an impatient sound, and shook my shoulder, none too gently. “Be silent for just ~one~ minute, will you?”

I rubbed my runny nose with my sleeve, and subsided a moment, though I still could feel myself shake. Kyo’s arms tightened around me a little, as if he were afraid I’d bolt. Haruna's fierce face softened a little. She knelt down before me, her face even with mine, her hair wild.

“Good. Now, listen to me.” I wiped my eyes with the palms of my hands, and was surprised when I felt a little tingle of power still rippling beneath my skin. “I want you to look. Look behind me.”

Cautiously, I shifted so I could peer past her. The man on the pallet—his name, I remembered, was Anzai—was stirring about.

He wasn’t dead.

I wriggled and squirmed frantically until I freed myself from Kyo’s arms and scrambled back to the man’s side. His chest rose and fell, the movement steady and reassuring, his breath deep and regular and clear, not like the wet sounding, labored gasps of before. I put my hand on his chest, and felt his heart beat slow and sure beneath my fingertips instead of fast and thready with his illness. The hectic flush of fever was gone from his thin cheeks, and he looked as if he slept peacefully, for the first time in many days. He looked...healed.

Haruna came up behind me, and placed her hand gently on my shoulder. I looked up at her, unable to decide whether awe or gratitude should have the upper hand at the moment. “Sensei? He’s...all right?”

“Appears to be. Fever’s broken, and he’s breathing normally. Just offhand, I’d say he was all right.”

I brushed the lank brown hair from Anzai’s forehead, and his skin was cool and sweaty. Automatically, I reached for a blanket, and covered him before rinsing his face gently with water again. His eyes fluttered open, and they were clear, not cloudy with fevered hallucinations, as before. I smiled at him, and he relaxed and drifted back off to sleep once more. When I looked up, Haruna was looking at me with a most speculative gleam in her eyes.

“I think we need to talk, boy. Come with me.” Her tone brooked no argument.

I ran my hands over my face, through my hair, and idly noticed their tremor. Though I was relieved that Anzai was all right, apprehension settled over me again at the thought of the ~talk~ Haruna and I would have. I suspected very much that it would involve her talking, and me defending myself.

How could I defend myself when I wasn't even certain what had happened? Should I tell her about the curse? Would it be cause for Hamanari to send me to the pens? After Kyo's story of his experiences in the pens, I was very, very sure I didn't want to be there---I wasn't a fighter by nature. I shuddered in memory of the day I first walked past the pens, and of the things some of the men had said, of the hungry look in their eyes, of their black, black ki. With a sigh, I gathered myself together and followed her slight figure out of the infirmary. Kyo trailed after us, rubbing his eyes. I could sympathize; my own burned with tiredness and tears.

We followed Haruna to her room, and I folded myself onto a cushion at the big, low square lacquered table that dominated the room. Kyo settled on the other side, and reached over to pat my hand. His hand was big and warm, and covered my icy one.

“Why you cry, Inochi? Never seen you cry---what made you sad?”

“I’ll tell you later,” I promised quietly. Kyo made a sound of assent, then squeezed my fingers lightly before pulling back. I heard him humming softly to himself.

Haruna rose from a low chest, carrying a tray with a bottle and three tiny, shallow dishes. Though it was much finer than what we’d had, I recognized it as a sake jug and sake cups. I’d never cared much for the smell of it, so it was not a hardship when only father and Rei had been allowed a few mouthfuls of it on holy days. Haruna uncorked the bottle, and poured the wine into the little dishes. The smell of Haruna's sake was much subtler than the harsh scent I remembered, and curious, I took the little dish she offered with its clear, pinkish liquor, no more than a large mouthful.

I was careful to sip only after she’d tasted hers. Flavor exploded into my mouth, something floral, something fruity; I couldn’t identify it. It burned the back of my tongue a little, then was warm going down.

“This is the good vintage,” Haruna said with satisfaction. “I have a brother in Sakata who brews it, and always sends me a few bottles.”

Haruna poured again, and I drank once more. After the first dish, it didn’t burn, but made my belly and chest feel wonderfully warm and glowing. The smell and taste made me think of hot summers and the rich smells of flowers and green growing things. I rather liked it. She poured for each of us three more times before settling back and spearing me with her sharp glance. “So, Inochi...how long were you going to hide from us that you’re a mage?”

I was very glad I hadn’t been sipping sake; I’m certain I’d have choked. I shook my head violently, then was surprised when the room seemed to spin before righting itself. I gripped the edge of the table to steady myself, and the dizzy feeling passed. “I’m not a mage, Sensei.”

Haruna made a very rude, disbelieving noise. “Don’t lie to me, boy. I don’t have much magic, but I recognize it when I see it. When I ~feel~ it.” She examined her fingers. “Damn near froze my fingers off. I swear I’ve gotten frostbite.”

Cold? To me, it had felt hot, very hot. I looked at my own fingers. I could see no difference; they looked like the same hands I’d looked at for more than sixteen years, now.

“I don’t have magic,” I said softly. “It’s the curse.”

Haruna blinked at me a moment. “What the hells are you talking about? What curse?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kyo make a subtle sign against the evil eye, and my face and ears grew hot. I wasn’t angry with him, or even particularly hurt. I’d seen so often during my years at home that I’d simply blocked it from my consciousness, accepted it as normal,as expected.

My hands knotted together in my lap, and I stared down at them, avoiding gazes that I knew would become accusing when they found out the truth about me. I didn’t want to tell them; I’d found acceptance with them, and I’d never had that before. I liked it, liked them, and didn’t want to lose either. If it were not for the fact I still grieved for Mai, worried for her, missed her, I think I would have been very happy there.

I must have been quiet too long, because Haruna’s voice called my name, with surprising gentleness. I glanced up at her, sitting with uncharacteristic patience, then at Kyo, as steady as a rock, and sighed.

“I am the ninth and last child of my mother. When I was born, my father wanted to kill me,” I said very softly. “He took one look at the color of my eyes, at the shape of my ears, and wanted to take me from mother, and leave me out in the woods to die. He wouldn’t dirty his knife with my blood, because it was cursed. He said my mother had been with demons, that I was a demon’s whelp.”

Haruna made a disgusted sound. I remembered how she’d said we northerners were superstitious, and I couldn’t deny the truth of her words. Father's temper had been very bad, and it made me queasy to think of the scene that must have happened at my birth, of the yelling, of how he must have beaten her even in childbed. He'd certainly been very free with his fists when I had been small and didn't know to avoid him.

“Obviously, he didn’t leave you there,” Haruna prompted. She poured more sake for me, and I drank at her insistance.

“No. Mother begged him to spare me. She swore to him that it was just her great grandfather’s bad blood finally coming through her line. He had been part demon, she said, but it had been covered up by her family so she could get a good husband---no one would have taken her if they knew of her secret taint. Father was...very angry.” I looked down at the table, though my eyes were far away, remembering what she had told me years ago, before she died. “Mother and I were allowed to live, but he wouldn’t let her stay in the house any longer. He set her aside, and took another wife. We stayed with the goats in the goat shed. I suppose he didn’t kill her because she had given him so many normal children, and they were good workers. Mother and I tended the goats, and worked in the gardens. We tried to stay away from father, and his new wife. I tried to stay away from everyone.” I could remember how she'd hide away vegetables for me in her robe, stolen from the others. She would pull away kids from the nanny goats to give me a little milk to drink. I could remember how she'd curl around me at night to try and keep me warm in the goat shed, how she would sing softly to me when I couldn't sleep because my belly hurt with hunger. The memories made my eyes sting, and I blinked away wetness, surprised at the power they still had over me.

Haruna leaned forward and poured a little more of the pale pink wine from the bottle into my sake dish. I looked at it a moment, and just then realized the dish looked like a little shallow seashell. She pushed the sake dish toward me, and obediently, I picked it up and sipped. It was sweet-tart-hot, and made me feel warmer within; I felt so cold now.

“Is your mother still alive?” Haruna’s voice was surprisingly soft.

“No. She died the winter I was seven. It was so cold, then.” I shivered, remembering the fierce bite of the cold then, bad for even the north. I could remember how she would cough blood into old rags, and try to hide them so I wouldn’t see, but I always knew; that winter, she had smelled of old blood, and death. She had tried so hard to live for me, to take care of me, but death took her one night, and I woke up curled into her body, and it had been as cold as the ground outside. I had screamed and wailed until Rei, then much younger but still as hard, had come to see what the noise was about. “I wanted to die with her, but I couldn’t, no matter how I tried. The curse wouldn’t let me die, or maybe it was just that being part demon, I was stronger than I thought. My brothers and sisters hated me because it was my fault Mother had been set aside, and had died in the cold from lung fever.”

Haruna poured more sake into my dish. I drank; it made me feel just a little less cold and things were a little less sharp-feeling, more softer-edged and distant. It made it easier to talk of such terrible things.

“It wasn't your fault, Inochi. You didn't cause your mother's death...that was entirely the doings of your narrow-minded father." Haruna's voice was crisp, no-nonsense. "That’s the second or third time you’ve mentioned this curse. What are you talking about? What curse?”

I felt a little dizzy, realized I swayed, and righted myself. I put one hand on the table’s edge to steady myself. Haruna looked unaffected, and I tried to remember if she had drank as much as I had.

“It’s...it’s this thing inside me,” I said finally, after searching through the fog in my head. The sake made everything warmer, fuzzier, and seemed to quieten the throb of power within. “It...it wants out. It...breaks things, sometimes.” I made a vague gesture toward myself. “The ugly ears, the ugly eyes...not the only thing I got from him. Mother said...she said that my great-great grandfather had been able to control it...that someday, I would too. But I can't. When I was smaller, it was smaller, easier to hold on to, once I learned what it was. Now, I’m bigger, and it’s bigger, and sometimes, it’s so hard to hold inside...I don’t want to break things, to hurt....”

I could feel it stirring, slowly, sleepily, and firmly pushed it back down. But it took a lot of strength, and I was suddenly very tired. Although I knew it was terribly rude, I folded my arms on the table, and laid my cheek upon them, unable to sit upright any longer. “Please, Haruna...don’t tell the Meijin I have the curse. He’ll send me away to a bad place. I’ll be good. I’ll work very hard for you—I’m stronger, now....” My voice sounded strangely slurry to me, and very slow.

“Be still, Inochi. I know you work hard.” Haruna’s hand drifted across my hair again. “Come along, let’s put you in bed.”

But no matter how I tried, my legs wouldn’t work right; they felt oddly loose and disconnected to the rest of me, and my backside wanted to sit down, my eyes to close. Finally Kyo just picked me up, and with a happy sound, I curled up into him, burrowing into his warmth. He smelled somehow like safety, though I knew it was only his own scent, a little musky, a little salty, and his heart beat comfortingly beneath my ear.

Through a fuzzy haze, I became vaguely aware of movement through the clinic; it grew warmer as we neared the kitchen. For long moments Kyo held me, his arms safe and secure, and I was content. At last he knelt down and put me on my futon; Haruna must have unrolled it for me in my sleeping place in the pantry. I know it was mine, because it smelled so familiar. Kyo had to unclench my fingers from his robe, his voice deep and cajoling; I didn’t want to let go.

But finally, he got me settled, curved around a folded blanket he’d pushed into my arms, and another spread over me. Somehow, it was very hard work to focus long enough to open an eye, to peer up at Haruna, but I did. She looked oddly blurry. “What will you do?”

She frowned, but it was such a familiar expression, I paid it no heed. “I have a friend you should see, I think. His name is Jussai.”

Jussai. I liked the sound of the name; it sounded like a cool breeze on a hot day. I repeated it to myself, slurring the syllables; the last sounded familiar, brought another name to my fuzzy mind. Closing my eyes, I said, “I miss Mai.”

“Go to sleep, Inochi,” came Haruna’s gravelly voice from the growing darkness.

So I did.

Chapter Six

Back to Inochi Index

Back to Linda's Passions

Back to Main Index