Inochi

By Linda

Chapter 8

Consciousness slipped back, crept up on me, and took me unawares. One moment I drifted in blackness, and in the next, my eyes fluttered open, blinking against the soft half-light. I didn’t want to wake up; wakefulness brought nothing but pain, and memory of more pain. But no matter how I tried or how I wished, I could not submerge myself again into the blessed black nothingness.

Gradually I became aware of my surroundings. I lay partly on the smooth cool wooden floor, partly on a soft thick futon, on my belly where the guards had flung me, in a small, plain, windowless room. They hadn’t cared where they had thrown me after Kuroda had finished with me.

Everything...hurt. No, hurt was too mild a word for the pain that throbbed through my entire body with every beat of my heart, every breath I drew. I had nothing in my experience to measure this by, no comparison to make, only deep and unrelenting pain.

But my mind was surprisingly clear.

I drew a deep breath and it broke on a gasp; though Kuroda had not broken bones, as Soujuro had specified, he’d beaten me thoroughly, his touch sure and experienced. He’d stopped often to check his progress, running his fingers over my skin, judging just how much more my body could take, to be certain he didn’t go too far and fracture bones or split skin. I shied away from the memory and tried to curl into a miserable ball, panting with the bright sharp pain movement brought. My sweaty hair lay over my face, thick and heavy, almost blinding me.

It was not right. The thought pulsed in my head, in time to the beat of my heart within my chest.

It was not right that they should do such a thing to me. It was not right that I should not belong to myself, but to them, for them to torment and punish as they pleased. I had been born a free soul; I should not now have that freedom taken from me. All I wished was to belong to no man but myself, to make my own decisions whether right or wrong, to determine what kind of man I would become, and where I would live my life.

My cheek was still to the cool wooden floor bare of tatami mats, and I felt the tremor of movement, even as I heard it close by. It was only a slight, soft sound, of bare foot against the floor, but still it surprised me; I wasn’t aware anyone else was in the room with me.

Of course I wasn’t automatically aware of the presence of another, hadn’t felt his ki. They had made me mind-blind. I closed my eyes tightly; they felt hot and prickly, stinging with unshed tears. Hanging helplessly in Kuroda’s chains, I’d vowed I would not weep any more tears because of what they’d done. I’d raged and screamed and fought with all my might, and it had done no good; they’d effectively blinded me. Tears would scarcely help now.

When I’d woken up after they’d dragged me away to Tetsu Sensei, everything had...changed. My eyes still saw, my ears still heard, my nose still caught scents as it ever had, but it was as if everything was muted, colorless, odorless. I could not ~feel~ anything...could not feel the life force, the ki of living things swirling about me, mixing and combining to help me make sense of my world as it was. It was as if I looked at a black and white ink drawing of the world instead of at the world itself. I had known from a very young age I saw things differently than the rest of my family, but until, now, I had never known just how vast was the difference between what I saw and felt from how others experienced things. I was as mind-blind as any human, as were my brothers and sisters.

How did they bear it? Nothing had the savor it once had. I could not see the emotions reflected in auras, could not see the auras themselves, pulsing and shimmering like rainbows around every living thing. I could not sense anything beyond the normal, limited abilities of my body. I felt as if something vital had been hacked from my brain with a dull knife, leaving me crippled and weak and helpless. The sense of loss had been almost more than I could bear. When I’d discovered what Tetsu Sensei had done to me, I had screamed more then than when Kuroda had begun his work upon me.

But no one had paid heed. No one had cared. They’d rendered me defenseless, unable to even feel the curse, the power within me, let alone call it forth as I’d done. Though I’d hated the curse, hated its destructive power, still I felt alone without it, and blind without the ability to sense ki.

“Ne, fox-chan...are you all right?”

The voice, young and male and slightly husky, came from somewhere off to my left. Another slight shift, and the scrape of bare feet against the cool floor; he moved closer, cautiously, as if he were afraid of me, of what I might do. But I could do nothing, just lie on the floor and hurt.

“No,” I said softly. Nothing would be quite all right ever again. Not until I was free, not until I could ~feel~ things again.

“Do you hurt very much?” He sounded very young, and worried.

“Yes.” My voice sounded hoarse, ragged, not my own; little wonder it hurt as if they’d ripped out my throat, as I’d screamed my voice away over the course of the afternoon and night and next day beneath Kuroda’s skillful touch.

The boy shifted again, closer still, and I could scent him, a smell like dry autumn leaves, and almost could feel his body heat. His fingers gingerly lay on my bare shoulder, a light, gentle touch. Even that hurt, and I would have pulled away had I the strength. But I didn’t, so I endured it silently.

The warmth of his fingers only served to remind me how very cold I felt. They’d stripped me for Kuroda’s punishment, and had merely tied my robes around my waist to bring me back, leaving my upper body bare as they’d dragged me here. An object lesson for the rest of the slaves, I thought darkly. I wasn’t sure how long I’d laid there on the chill floor, but I was very cold.

“You must have been very bad,” the boy continued. He lifted his hand from my shoulder, and I breathed a small sigh of relief. Reaching down, he gently smoothed the heavy hair from my face, and I blinked as soft golden lamplight flooded my eyes. “Were you bad?”

“Yes," I rasped. "I ran.”

The only thing I could see without moving anything and risking further pain was the boy’s feet. Small and narrow, with pale pink, translucent nails, almost like little raindrops. And white. Not merely pale in color like Kin’iro, but white, like snow, or milk, or clouds. I’d never seen anyone with such utterly white skin before. In spite of everything, curiosity stirred within me, and I wanted to see more.

Slowly, I worked my way over onto my side, gasping and panting with effort; I was as weak as a newly hatched chick, and every movement, even something as simple as breathing, sent pain lancing through my body. It took a very long time, but at last, sweating and nauseous, I lay on my side, on the futon, and looked up at the boy.

He crouched before me on his heels, arms wrapped around his knees, which were drawn up to his chest, his sharp little chin resting on them. Slowly he blinked at me, studying me even as I studied him; his eyes were huge in his triangular face, with a definite upward slant at the outer corners as mine, and a pale, pale violet in color. I’d never before seen eyes that color, and I thought them remarkably beautiful, like the irises that grew at the side of the water and bloomed in late spring. His pupils were not round, but rather long and slit, like a cat’s, and were wide in the half-light; his eyelashes and eyebrows a pale grey.

A nimbus of soft, fine white hair capped his head; it wasn’t long, as was mine, but short, almost like Kyo’s, though not hacked-looking as Kyo’s had been. And his ears...he didn’t have human ears, or even the long, pointed-tipped ears I had, but triangular-shaped ears that sat atop his head, of the same white color as hair and skin, with a pale pink inner surface. Not big and graceful, as were Kin’iro’s ears, but small and neat and compact; they twitched as he studied me. He shifted a little, and I caught the flash of a long, slim furry white tail, the tip moving restlessly against the wooden floor almost as if it had a will of its own. I had never seen anyone like him before.

He grinned then, revealing perfect little teeth as white as his skin. “I’m a nekogen. Guess you’ve not seen anyone like me. Your eyes got as big as my fist.” He made a fist of his slim hand to show me, his voice sweet and cheerful. Nekogen---one of the cat people. Somehow, I couldn’t find it within myself to be surprised, given all I’d seen while at Hamanari’s.

“No. I have not.” Weary, curiosity satisfied for now, I closed my eyes a moment. So very tired....

“I am Genichi,” came his soft husky voice from the darkness, and I slowly opened my eyes again. Such a small act seemed to take most of my energy. He looked at me with those remarkable pale eyes, his head tilted to the side, ears flicking forward. “Soujuro-san said I am to care for you tonight and tomorrow, as he doubted you would be able to go to Kin’iro, as the Meijin had decided.”

“Thank the gods for small favors,” I rasped. I certainly wasn’t looking forward to dealing with Kin’iro, even when I was in the best of health. I remembered well how malicious his golden eyes were, how sharp his nails, the flash of those keen canines. I had no doubt at all in my mind that he would be quick to take advantage of my weakened state, as he’d not cared for me one bit. I did not understand why he so disliked me, and at the moment, I could not find the strength to care.

Genichi laughed, a soft, pleasant, trilling sound. “Well, I don’t like him either sometimes, but he ~is~ the sensei.”

Genichi unfolded himself and scampered away almost soundlessly, returning in a few heartbeats with a little earthenware water jug. He uncorked it, and poured water into a small cup. “Ayano is the only one of us he really likes, and that’s because she's a kitsune too, and lies with him without a fight. Sometimes I hear them---the walls are thin.” His small face scrunched in distaste. “She’s very noisy.”

With Genichi’s help, I struggled to a half-sitting position biting my lower lip to keep from crying out, and blinking as my vision greyed alarmingly and the room spun in sickening circles. I tried to slow and deepen my fast, erratic breathing, and swayed before Genichi caught me and held me steady. Slowly the feeling passed, and Genichi held the cup to my mouth. I greedily drank down the water; I was so thirsty that even the stale taste of the water was sweet to me. He gave me a second cup, but wouldn’t let me have a third.

“No," he said, his childish voice surprisingly firm. "You’ll be sick. Soujuro-san wouldn’t let Haruna Sensei see you, but she told me not to give you too much at first.” With agonizing slowness, I worked my way back down onto the futon, and it took almost as long to do that as to sit up.

Haruna. A wave of sadness swept over me. Almost desperately, I wanted to see Haruna again, to feel her light touch, to sense the caring and warmth almost hidden beneath the quick temper and sharp tongue. But knew I would not, knew that Soujuro would keep her from my side from sheer malice unless I was close to death. And although I felt as though I was, I knew I was not; Kuroda was too skilled in his profession to bring me to the edge between life and death.

I licked my lips, tasted old blood, and it made my stomach roll. “You saw Haruna Sensei?”

“Yes. Gave me some medicine to put on your cuts whenever we wash you up. She was very angry.” Genichi curled himself before me, wrapping his tail around his feet. He leaned forward, as if confiding a great secret. “She said swear words I’d never heard before.” His voice was admiring.

In spite of everything, amusement trickled through me. “That is Haruna,” I agreed. “She says harsh things, but doesn’t mean them. Her heart...her heart is good.” I closed my eyes, feeling them sting. Her heart was very good; she’d risked everything to stop the curse from breaking free and sending fire to devour all those guards. It had been so close....

“If you say.” Genichi didn’t sound convinced. He scooted closer to me with a soft rustle of his clothing. A moment later, I felt his finger trace lightly across my chest, over one of the scarlet marks I knew was there, and I shivered in pain and revulsion. “Kin’iro has threatened to give me to Kuroda-san if I don’t do as he says. Now, I know I don’t want to go, if this is what he does.”

I opened my eyes. His face was intent as he traced over another of the long scarlet welts left by Kuroda’s whip. I was covered with them, both front and back, the marks placed with such precision I looked as if I was some sort of striped animal. I bore them from neck to knees; they stopped just below my navel and began again just below my genitals. My skin itched from blood and other...other fluids dried on my back and belly. I shivered again in memory of that place of terror and pain and shame, wanting to banish it from my mind forever.

“You’re cold,” Genichi said. He dragged over a blanket from the other futon and draped it atop me. I shivered again, not from cold, but rather from the memory of Kuroda’s calm, smooth face, the light of pleasure in his red-brown eyes as he worked. And then later, Soujuro had...my mind shut down against the memory with startling abruptness.

“A little,” I replied quietly, sinking back into the futon and letting Genichi think what he would.

“That’s easy to fix,” Genichi said. With speed and fluid grace, he slipped from his clothes, a pair of loose drawstring trousers with a slot in the back for his tail, and a wrapped tunic, both of a soft-looking violet cloth. His entire body was utterly white save for the pale pink flush of small, immature genitals, and he appeared lithe and flexible. He stretched, unselfconsciously, then ducked beneath the covers with me before I could protest. His light, slim body seemed to melt next to me, and he curled around me, careful not to rub against all the marks Kuroda had left upon my skin.

“Better, yes?” He sounded a little muffled, his face tucked into my neck; one of his soft little ears tickled my jaw. I could feel his long furry tail curl across my thigh, a very odd sensation indeed, though not unpleasant.

I held myself stiffly, both from fear of him pressing too closely against my aching body, covered with blood and filth, and from the knowledge that he was naked against me. I’d never been this close to a naked person before aside from Kyo in the bath, and wasn’t sure what to do. It seemed to bother Genichi not at all as he snuggled closer.

But the heat of his body was seductive, seeping into me, easing the chill, and gradually, I relaxed into his warm embrace with a sigh. He meant nothing by this save to comfort; it was like sleeping with Mai. I didn’t think him much older than her eight years; he was perhaps two years older than she was, and certainly much younger than myself, his body still that of a boy, immature.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Genichi’s husky voice sounded blurry, sleepy. “My old meijin used to say that sleeping with me was like sleeping with a brazier....” He yawned prodigiously, and his ear tickled my jaw again. “I’m so sleepy....”

It didn’t take long before his soft breathing settled into the rhythms of sleep, his slight weight relaxing against me. His breath whispered moistly against my throat and warmed the collar lying there. It was a different collar than the one they’d originally placed there, different than the ones Kin’iro and Genichi wore; Tetsu Sensei had crafted another, stronger, especially for me. This one was of silver, with black characters; even now I swore I could feel them writhing over the surface of the metal, suppressing the power, the curse, within me. Slowly, I lifted one wrist and brought it closer; Kuroda had wrapped soft cloths around wrists and ankles to keep the cuffs of his chains from cutting into my skin. The cloths had come partly unwrapped, enough to show me a band identical to the one around my throat, both ankles, and my other wrist.

Tetsu Sensei had locked away my power, my senses, leaving me mind-blind. I could feel the curse as a vague stirring, but the whispers in my mind, like the sussuration of the wind in the pines, there since earliest memory, were still and quiet. I’d never been truly alone inside my head before, and it felt...odd. Desolate. I couldn’t ~feel~ Genichi beside me save as a warm body; I couldn’t sense his ki, nor feel his aura, nor read his emotions, all the things I’d taken for granted, before.

Despair slithered within me, and I tried not to give in to it. I vaguely remembered Tetsu Sensei placing the collar and bracelets upon me, of the muted, exhausted shriek of the power within me as the metal seemed to melt and reform about me, keening a high-pitched song of power. My efforts to fight had been worth nothing; not even enough to tax the guards who’d held me down while Tetsu Sensei placed the wards upon me. His bright, bright red ki was the last I’d sensed before the wards slammed into effect, blinding me. I thought I remembered a flash of pity in those sharp black eyes, but I was now certain I’d merely imagined it.

I wasn’t certain what I would now do. Tetsu Sensei had promised that if I tried to run again or if I fought the guards, the pain I’d gotten from Kuroda’s hand would be nothing compared to what the magic in the wards could inflict. I had no cause to disbelieve him; if he could do such a thing to me, to lock me away from part of myself, then he could craft a spell such as that. For the moment, escape seemed impossible. I would have to wait until I was sold away to make another attempt. I had no desire ever again to face Kuroda, his deft sure hands, his hard fists, his whip.

Genichi murmured against me in his sleep, and cuddled closer. He was so warm, and it leached into me, helping me to relax. Tentatively I slid my arm around him, gritting my teeth at the movement, and pulled him just a little closer. He made a pleased, purring sound, and butted his head against my chin, settling in. It was...nice...to have him there, somehow. It made me feel not quite so alone. I was so tired and hurt so much I just wanted to sleep to get away from everything that had happened.

And in a little while, lulled by his heat, by the soft sounds of his breathing, I did.

@-@-@-@-@-@

“Fox-chan. Ne, fox...wake up now.”

The soft, husky voice was persistent, and I became aware of a gentle patting sensation on my cheek with the occasional light tug of my hair. Slowly I opened my eyes to a white face dominated by a pair of pale violet eyes, and a sweetly smiling mouth. I blinked for a moment, trying to place a name to the face. He grinned cheerfully at me and gave my hair another little tug.

“Ohayo,” he said happily, with a flick of his tail. “Time for you to get up now. I’ve got some breakfast for you. Then we can go to the bath, and you can soak. You’ll feel much better, then.”

Genichi. His name came to me as he scampered out of my field of vision and returned with a small wicker tray, which he set very carefully onto the floor. His little pink tongue stuck out from between his teeth as he concentrated on pouring tea into a mug without spilling it. Amusement trickled through me at the sight and the corner of my mouth quirked upwards. I caught the distinctive smell of miso soup, and a piece of dried meat, and my belly rumbled. I’d rapidly become accustomed to regular meals, and so in spite of my pain, was hungry.

It was a struggle to sit up and brace myself against the wall, and impossible to find a position that didn’t hurt some part of me. Some of the intense, burning pain of the whipping had faded, leaving the immediate pounding of my aching muscles that made my breath catch with every movement I made. Even as rapidly as I normally healed, it would be a long time before I felt normal again, and with every step I took, every movement I made, I’d think of Kuroda. It was, I thought with a grudging admiration for their methods, a very good way to make the punishment for my “crime” stay to the forefront of my mind. Rei’s beatings had been child’s play compared to this.

“Thank you, Genichi,” I said, as soon as I’d caught my breath. He looked very pleased, his pale pink mouth curving up into a smile as he handed me the soup to drink. I took a sip or two, and wondered suddenly if my stomach would reject it. I swallowed a couple of times, drew a couple of deep breaths that made my ribs protest, and finally, the nausea subsided. Genichi's pretty little face watched me closely. “Where did you get this?”

Genichi practically bounced in place, worry changing to excitement. “I didn’t have to go to lessons today! Soujuro-san sent me to the kitchen for your breakfast. He said to roust you about and feed you, then take you to the bath. Make you walk around to get the stiffness out.”

Although we were alone in our small, windowless room, he looked over his shoulder before reaching into his wrapped tunic to pull out a small cloth bundle. Beaming, he handed it to me with a flourish.

“What is it?” I asked, taking it from him and setting it on my knee.

“Cook likes me. She says I’m pretty, and likes it when I sing to her. So she gives me special food, sometimes. Sweets, today. We can share.”

I was touched by his generosity. I set the bundle down on the tray, and picked up my soup to finish. “Thank you, Genichi. We’ll have them in a moment, after I’ve eaten. I really appreciate how you brought this to me.”

His tail twitched against the floor happily. “I like to help. My old Meijin let me make his tea, and I always served him all his meals his cook made. I took good care of him.” His husky voice reflected his pride.

The miso soup went down easily, delicious. I shifted a little, and found a more comfortable spot; I couldn’t sit long in any one position, as it hurt too much. I picked at the piece of dried fish; it had a salty, smoky taste that was odd, but not unpleasant. Even if I hadn’t liked it, I’d have eaten it---the imperative to never waste food was too strong within me, and I knew I had to gain strength for what now lay before me. Wishing things were different would not make them so.

“You’ve had a Meijin before?”

Genichi nodded vigorously. He scooted a little closer, so that his thigh touched my knee. I didn’t move my knee back, as he seemed to need to touch, and he was small and harmless to me, so I didn’t mind that much.

“My old Meijin bought me when I was just a kit. My parents died with fever sickness, and my brothers and sisters and me were sold to different people. I was the oldest. This many.” He held up seven fingers, and wiggled them at me.

He saw my cup was empty of tea, and bounced up to pour more for me. As if he remembered something, he slowed, and folded himself very precisely upon his knees, his long tail wrapped around them just so; the tip still twitched restlessly. His mobile face changed, went calm and serene, and his quick, deft hands became graceful, moving like leaves fluttering in a breeze. He lost his bounce, and suddenly seemed much older. I watched him as he poured my tea, suddenly very much an adult, his movements no longer childish, the glances of his violet eyes beneath his grey lashes far too adult, almost...almost like those smoldering looks Kin’iro gave Hamanari-san.

I couldn’t say I liked it; it made me feel odd, uncomfortable. He was a ~child~ and had no right to look like that. I bit my lower lip to keep from saying anything; he knew no better, and obviously was in training to do such things. The guise lasted only a moment longer, until he handed me the cup with a graceful bow, and then he was all child again, with a sunny smile and a bounce.

“Hurry up, fox-chan. Let’s go bathe, yes?”

“Yes, yes. But you must call me by my name. Inochi.” I handed the cup back to him, and he whisked the tray away to the other side of the room while I slowly, excruciatingly worked my way to my feet, trying to be quiet about it, but unable to completely stop the soft sounds of pain as I moved. In a moment, Genichi was back, aiding me to stand and he helped me pull my robe on completely, and to straighten it. Fine dark red welts criss-crossed my chest; I knew my back and buttocks and thighs were covered also, front and back; blooming bruises from his fists and a cane lay beneath the marks of the whip. As Soujuro-san had requested, Kuroda had left nothing that would scar; as ugly, as painful as it was now, everything would eventually fade away, leaving behind only the memory of my punishment and the fear of another like it. Genichi made unhappy sounds, and I ran my hand over his soft, soft hair to comfort him, as I often had Mai.

“It will heal, Genichi. Nothing to scar, nothing permanent.” Nothing that would cause me disfigurement, nothing that would impede my sale, I thought cynically. Kuroda had been very careful to not strike me in the face; Soujuro had left himself the bruises I could feel there.

Genichi slipped his small, narrow hand into mine, and we left our tiny cell. I walked like a very old man, one arm clasped about myself, stopping frequently to catch my breath. I fought for each foot forward I walked, each corner I turned; a part of me just wanted to curl up in misery on the floor and let them drag me about where they would, but pride kept me on my feet. The guards we passed paid us little heed after they saw our collars; they knew the wards imbedded within them would keep us from running, and so left us be.

It seemed to take a very long time to get to our destination, but the door Genichi slid open led to a room I recognized. It was the bath Soujuro had brought me to the day before yesterday---or had it been even longer? I wasn’t sure; I’d lost track of time. I didn’t know how long I’d been unconscious.

"Genichi---how long did I lie on the floor?"

His ears twitched, and his long tail swished. "Two days. I thought you were dead when I couldn't wake you up. I ran to get Kin-iro-san, but he said you were only asleep, not dead." He tilted his head and looked at me. "I was scared."

I frowned, and rubbed my throbbing head. So Kin'iro had seen how I was after leaving Kuroda; the knowledge made me feel even worse. I suspected he would use it to torment me in one fashion or another as revenge for Soujuro forcing him to instruct me, but at the moment, I could not make myself care very much about what might happen tomorrow.

Genichi closed the door behind us. The room was very warm, even the floor warm against my bare feet. I remembered what Kyo had said once about Kuroda beating the feet of slaves who’d tried to run away, leaving them too swollen to walk for days, and I was grateful he’d not done that; it would have left me utterly helpless.

I watched silently as Genichi collected towels and sponges and soap, a quick white and violet flash of movement. He led me to the tiled trough, his fingers deft as he untied the knot in my sash. The robe had once been very fine; now it was torn and ragged and splotched with mud and my own blood. At home I would have worn it gratefully; now, I wasn’t sure. Even the slaves here were always neat and clean, so I doubted if I’d be allowed to wear it again.

Genichi stripped and folded his clothes neatly on the bench to keep from getting them wet. Kneeling down, I let him gently pour warm water over me, and I couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped me at the feel of warmth sluicing over torn skin and aching muscles. Bucket after bucket, until it no longer ran pink with old blood. I bit my lip and shivered as the open cuts stung, but kept silent.

“Are you all right? Too hot?”

“No.” I shook my head, wet hair stringing into my eyes. “Feels good.”

For someone with so much bounce, Genichi proved remarkably gentle, his touch easy and soothing as he soaped me with soft cloths instead of the scrubber. He was clearly accustomed to washing others, and I remembered that he had cared for an old Meijin; bathing had obviously been one of his tasks. I felt myself beginning to relax, even when he scrubbed my hair a bit vigorously. I liked being clean very much, and the sweat and mud and blood had been making me itch. When he came to my belly, I gently took the cloth from him and washed myself; I didn’t want him touching what had dried there. I could do nothing about washing my lower back; I couldn’t turn or twist to wash myself there, and so let him do it.

That done, he led me over to the soaking tub. The heat of the water made my skin burn as though I'd been dipped in salt, and I clutched the sides of the tub, fingernails digging into the wood to keep from passing out. Genichi held me steady until the feeling passed, then helped me to sit and placed a towel to place behind my neck, letting my hair trail down the outside of the wooden tub to dry. I closed my eyes and let myself unfold with a sigh, and some of the tension and aching began to slip away. I was vaguely aware of the sound of Genichi scrubbing himself, and then drifted to sleep a moment, lulled by the heat, before Genichi leapt into the tub, sloshing hot water everywhere.

He submerged completely, little bubbles rising up for a few seconds before he surfaced with a laugh, shaking his head, sending water droplets splattering everywhere. I couldn’t help but smile; he seemed to gain so much enjoyment from even the simple things in life, as a bath.

Genichi drifted over, stretched himself out beside me, his little white toes just breaking the surface, pink from the heat of the water.

“I didn’t think cats liked water,” I said.

He laughed. “Oh, in my neko form, I don’t. But in this furless body, I do. It dries easier. ‘Cept for the tail.” He drifted back to the other side of the tub, seemingly unable to stay still for very long. “But now, I can’t change to my neko shape. Soujuro-san makes me stay like this all the time, since I came here.” His fingers crept up to hover over the collar, so black against his white throat.

“How long have you been here, Genichi?”

He flicked his ears. “Two hands of days. Kin’iro says I’m almost ready to be sold.” He frowned. “Just a few more things to learn. Then I’ll get silk trousers and tunic to match my eyes, and silver bracelets and anklets to make me prettier, and I’ll be sold. Soujuro-san says I’ll either go to a rich man he knows, or I’ll go to a House. It depends who has the most gold.” He paused, and said wistfully, “I hope if I go to the man, he has some boys my age to play with. I miss playing with my brothers and sisters.”

Genichi rubbed at one big violet eye with the heel of his hand, and without thought, I reached out to pet his thin, bare white shoulder. Though I’d never played with my older brothers and sisters, I often played with the smaller ones when I took them out with me to gather berries; hiding games, tag games. I missed them; I missed Mai’s sweet nature in particular. I reached up to touch the collar around my neck, and when I did, it gave me a warning jolt, enough to make me start slightly and jerk my hand away. The prospects of escape looked very small right now and I had to work hard to push away the sadness that sought to envelop me.

“Ne, fox-chan...do you have any brothers and sisters?”

I settled into the water a little more; it helped ease the ache of my muscles. “Several.” I wasn't sure if he could count, so I held up both hands then two fingers. “This many.” I wanted to laugh at how round his eyes grew, but bit my tongue so I would not. “I have a little sister, Mai, who is just a couple of years younger than you. She’s my favorite of them all.”

“Do you miss her?” The question, delivered in his oddly husky voice, made my heart contract fiercely for a moment.

“Aa. I do...so much that I tried to run away, back to my home, but they caught me.” I closed my eyes a moment. “Soujuro-san punished me. Put these bands on me so I couldn’t do it again.”

Genichi sighed. “I don’t know where my brothers and sisters are. Someone different than the Meijin bought them away at the slave auction. Meijin didn’t buy them---said they weren’t pretty enough.” He pulled at one ear, scowling. “I wish I looked like they did, and not different, like I am. Maybe I could have stayed with them, then. Not many all-white nekogen, I guess. The others were all splotched and striped.”

I didn’t say that even had the same man bought him as had his brothers and sisters, it was unlikely he’d have stayed with them. If nothing else I was learning that no one ever stayed with me long now. They had taken me away from people I cared for without a single regard to how I might feel about it. Genichi would learn this quickly enough; I had no desire to tell him of it.

The door slid open, and one of the serving women came in, carrying a bundle of clothing. She was young and pretty, with reddish hair, and I thought instantly of Natsumi, though this girl wasn’t quite as round. Genichi grasped the side of the tub and levered himself up to stand in the tub. He waggled his fingers in a greeting.

“Ohayo,” he caroled. Myself, I sank down just a bit more, though the sides of the tub were high enough to hide me. Genichi seemed to be oblivious to his heat-flushed nakedness.

She looked up at him and smiled in recognition, and pleasure; it was a very pretty sight. “Ohayo, neko-chan. You’re early in the bath today. We don’t usually see you here until evening.”

“I’m taking care of my new friend. He doesn’t know anything yet.” Genichi gestured in my direction.

Her brown eyes flicked to me. I knew she saw little of me save my drying hair draped over the side, and my eyes peering at her over the edge of the tub, but the greeting smile died the moment she saw me. Her hand went to the front of her robe, holding it closed, her posture defensive, much as I’d stood before Soujuro-san. Her face closed, and she sketched a quick bow, stuttered an excuse about work to be done, and was gone, the door slamming in its frame.

Genichi looked from the door to me, eyes wide. His ears flicked, and his wet tail swished in the water. “Huh. She’s always so friendly. Maybe...” He peered at me closely, his grey brows drawing down in a thoughtful frown, “maybe it’s because you’re kitsune.”

I rose slowly out of the water, and stepped from the tub. I had to rest for a moment before picking up a towel. “I’m only part kitsune. I don’t have the ears and tail.” I remembered when the curse was roaring for freedom, and how I’d felt keenly the lack of ears and tail, feeling somehow incomplete without them.

“Guess not,” Genichi said after peering closely at me again. “But you have kitsune eyes, and your face looks a lot like Kin’iro’s. And you smell like him.”

“I ~smell~ like him?” I stopped in my toweling off to look at Genichi in disbelief. I could remember vividly how Kin’iro smelled, that warm, musky scent that made my flesh grow firm and heavy, that made me feel so restless, so...so needy. “I do not.”

Genichi laughed, and splashed water everywhere as he hopped from the tub. “You do too. Not as much, but I can smell you easily. The humans smell you, too. I think they like the way you kitsunes smell.”

I could feel my face grow hot. On the road to this place, Kyo had said something like that, and I could remember how often Kyo had tried to be as close to me as possible, how often he smelled my hair. He’d been punished because he’d wanted to be close to me, to sleep next to me.

“So, I guess you make her think of Kin’iro.” Genichi stopped to towel his hair vigorously, and it stood up in snowy wisps all around his ears. “None of the girls like him. I don’t think he’s very nice to them when he makes them go with him.” Genichi’s voice was very matter of fact.

“When he....” I felt myself grow warmer. Although I had no practical experience, I knew that men and women would lie together to make children. I had never seen a man lie with a woman, but growing up on a farm, I'd seen animals, and supposed it wasn't so much different than that. “So she thought that...~I~ would do...that...to her? I’ve never....” Abruptly, I shut my mouth with a snap.

“I don’t think you’d be mean to anyone,” Genichi said as he folded his towel haphazardly and put it on the bench. “You look a lot nicer than Kin’iro.” He pulled a round jar from his clothing; the ointment Haruna had sent for my wounds. I sat down and Genichi applied the salve liberally to my skin as I sat hunched in misery. His touch was light and deft, and he kept apologizing as I winced, and I kept assuring him it was all right. But still, as gentle as he was, I was very glad when he finished; my skin felt as if it were on fire.

Genichi brought me a stack of clothes, and I slipped on the under robe, wrapping it loosely around myself. The over robe was a dark blue, like all the others belonging to the slaves I saw. Evidently, after what I’d done to the last nice robe they’d given me, they weren’t going to waste another. It made little difference to me, as long as I wasn’t naked.

I tried to put on the tabi provided, but every movement sent pain slicing through me. Genichi made an impatient sound, snatched the tabi from me, and knelt down to slip them on my feet, then finished dressing. He found a wooden comb, ran it through his short soft hair, then through my long hair, hitting tangles carelessly until he saw how I winced, then slowed and worked them out.

I felt his fingertips trace the shape of my ears, so different than his own, and different than a human's. "You have funny ears," he said with the candidness of children. "But I like them."

The corner of my mouth twitched up. "Thank you, Genichi," I replied.

“I’ll show you around. We can go outside, but only to the gate in front, and a little ways from the house behind. Nowhere near the stables, or the pens, or the clinic. We can go anywhere inside the house. The guards won’t bother us ‘cos they know we can’t run away.”

His hand firmly in mine, Genichi led me out of the bath and down the hallway. I don’t think he had any particular destination in mind; Soujuro had instructed him to make me walk out the stiffness, so he did. As he said, the guards didn’t bar our way, once they saw the collars; no rooms save those of the Meijin, and, I assume, of Soujuro’s, were off limits to us.

As we walked, I discovered the house was huge, and apparently square in shape, surrounding an inner courtyard of great beauty. I stood on the veranda and gazed at it. Small ornamental trees, in bloom now because of the warm spring weather, flowered in abundance; I could see small beds of spring flowers. The way the courtyard had been set up, I couldn’t see across it; the whole impression was that I was in a beautiful garden of some sort, and all alone. Paths wound through it, and I could hear the trickle of water, either from a pond, or a fountain. Birds sang in the trees, and I could hear the tinkle of wind chimes. I drew a deep breath, and it was sweetly fragrant. I felt very peaceful there; it was almost like being in the meadow at home, and the thought sent a bittersweet rush through me.

“Pretty, ne? I like to come here when lessons are done. They don’t care what we do as long as we’re there at lessons on time. Kin’iro gets mad when you’re late. He says if he has to waste his time with us, we’d better not make him wait.”

“I won’t, then. I’ve been in enough trouble.”

Genichi made a sympathetic trill, and patted my arm before tugging me away from the courtyard. We walked a long time, slowly and with frequent stops to rest and catch my breath, until my muscles loosened and I felt tired, and almost too warm. We turned our steps back to the kitchen to get a drink of cool water and perhaps a sweet from the cook when one of the serving girls caught us.

“Soujuro-san wishes to see you in his rooms.” She slanted a glance at me, and as had the other girl, this one’s face closed, and she practically ran from us once she’d delivered her message. I didn’t like comparison with Kin’iro, but it appeared that there was little I could do to prevent it. Evidently, I was not the only one who didn’t like him, and others apparently had much more reason than did I to dislike him.

We wound our way back to the hallway that lead to Soujuro’s quarters. Genichi rapped on the door, and we heard, after a moment, Soujuro’s light voice murmur a command to enter. Genichi pulled back the door, let me step through first as I was eldest, then entered and closed it firmly behind us. It took long moments to fold myself onto my knees and lower myself to the floor, forehead on my folded hands, but I did it, almost without a sound, though it cost me dearly. Genichi was down in a similar position in a heartbeat with a fluid ease I envied; he was quick, and graceful, and had evidently been doing it for far longer than had I, as his movements and form were far better than my own.

After a long, long stretch of time that made my muscles scream in agony, Soujuro cleared his throat. “Oh, do sit up. I don’t wish to converse with the backs of your heads.”

Genichi bounced back up instantly; it took me much longer to work my way back to a sitting position on my heels, and I could feel sweat on the back of my neck and on my forehead from the effort. I felt a little dizzy, and Genichi put his small hand over my own.

“If you’re going to be ill, take yourself out of here. I don’t wish to have you sick on my floors.” Sourjuro’s voice was sharp, and a glance up at him through my lashes showed him looking displeased, his brush poised over the parchment scroll he worked on.

The breeze through the open shoji lifted my hair, slid cool fingers over my throat. I took a deep breath, and the nausea cleared. I felt relieved beyond words; I knew that scrambling out of there to be sick wasn’t something I was able to do at the moment, and the prospect of vomiting over Soujuro’s floors was horrifying. I took another deep breath, and my stomach settled.

“No, Soujuro-san. I shall not.”

“Hn.” He looked at me critically with a slight frown, and tapped the handle of his brush over his chin. “Well, you’re still alive, at any rate. Moving about, clean again. You did well, Genichi.”

Genichi bowed from the waist. “I live to serve, Soujuro-san,” he said, and though the words were smooth, practiced, he couldn’t change the child-like inflection.

“Of course you do,” Soujuro said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his grey eyes. “Come, child, and pour my tea.”

Genichi bowed again, and rose. He folded himself back onto his knees after he reached Soujuro's side, and his movements were calm, graceful, deliberate, as flowing as water in a stream. Although he didn’t quite possess the smoothness of Kin’iro, it was a close thing, and I knew that once he reached adulthood, he'd be sinuous and elegant. I realized that this was an object lesson for me, to show me what I’d be learning, and watched carefully, lowering my eyes only when Soujuro’s attention drifted my way.

Although it was a simple thing, really, to prepare tea and to serve it, somehow, Genichi made it beautiful, like a ceremony. His attention was focused wholly on Soujuro, anticipating every movement, every desire. When Soujuro took the first sip of his tea, Genichi, folded upon his knees, bowed his forehead to the floor and remained there until Soujuro set his cup down and stroked lightly over Genichi’s soft ears. Genichi made a sound almost like a purr, and arched into Soujuro’s caress; he loved to be touched. Soujuro tipped up the boy’s face and smiled at him; it was the same odd half-smile that had so disturbed me when he watched me bathe, and again later, when he’d come in to watch Kuroda strip me to the skin and then whip me.

It made me shiver, made the hair raise at the nape of my neck, made my stomach turn over in my belly, to see him look at Genichi in that way. It was something vile, like a venomous spider sitting in the heart of a fragrant white flower. I hated it.

And Soujuro knew it. His long, slim fingers threaded through Genichi’s hair, stroked over the small white and pink ears. The same smile played about his mouth, and when his grey eyes lifted, they almost sparkled with malice. I could not even make myself look down, as was proper, and felt the frown tug at my lips.

“There are many forms of service, dorei," Soujuro said softly. "This is only one. He will learn many others, as shall you. It is your purpose, as a slave, to serve in whatever capacity your new Meijin sees fit. No matter,” Soujuro paused to stroke down Genichi’s soft rounded cheek,” no matter how you may not like it.”

His grey eyes flicked back up to me, full of a terrible knowledge. I lowered my eyes, not wanting to meet his any longer, not wanting to see any more. I felt flushed, too warm, and the queasy feeling was back in force. All I wished at the moment was to escape his scrutiny, his gaze that was both cool and hot at the same time.

“You know,” Soujuro said after taking another sip of tea, ”I was all in favor of having them kill you---I was rather insistant upon it, in fact. If it hadn’t been for the exorbitant amount of gold Hamanari paid for you and his insistance that we would keep you only long enough to polish you for sale, I probably would have done so. Remove trouble before it grows and festers, I say. No one told me of this...ability...you had within you.” I could feel his stare, heavy with dislike, upon me. “I don’t like being kept ignorant of anything.”

The warmth turned to chill, and my stomach rolled alarmingly. My hands knotted together on my thighs, and I remained silent; there seemed no proper response to that. I doubted that he would believe anything I said. I’d not summoned the power; it had come unbidden to me when I’d been attacked, in response to a threat upon my life. I’d never in my entire life thought the curse had that much power. I’d known it to break things, yes, but to summon fire from the heavens....

“Be advised that I’ll be watching you. I’ve dealt with enough slaves over the course of my life that I’m well aware that kitsune blood, even as diluted as yours is, seldom leads to anything but trouble. Generally a great deal of profit, but too much trouble for my tastes. I will be looking for the opportunity to rid myself of you as quickly as possible. Hamanari-san has promised you to a special House, and as soon as you’ve lost some of your roughness, off you go. I’d send you now, at this very moment, but they’ve learned to expect a certain quality of dorei from us, and so you must have some polish.”

His fingers crept around to caress the nape of Genichi’s neck, smoothing over the white, white skin. Genichi’s violet eyes half-closed, and the tip of his tail twitched lazily against the floor.

“Such a pretty child, don’t you think?” Soujuro’s voice was as smooth and cool as glass. His grey eyes moved from Genichi’s face to mine, and he smiled again. “I like beautiful things.”

I could taste bile, and swallowed hard to keep it down. I lowered my eyes, my face flaming. Soujuro’s intimations, subtle though they were, made me ill. He laughed, the sound smooth and flowing and remarkably beautiful.

“I shall send for you soon, Genichi, and we shall spend some time together. In the meanwhile, take this dorei back to your quarters. Tomorrow, you both go to Kin’iro for lessons. Hopefully this one will do as well as you have. In time, perhaps I shall send for him, also.”

I glanced up quickly at that. Soujuro stroked Genichi once more, then picked up his tea, his attitude clearly dismissive. Genichi bowed, then scampered over to help me rise. Sitting on my knees like that for so long had left me stiff, and I gritted my teeth, holding in the whimper that wanted to escape. I would not let it, though, and rose with only the softest of sounds.

A bow came with difficulty, but it was serviceable enough; Soujuro watched until I’d done it, ready to reprimand me if I had not. All the time it took to get to the door and through it, I was very aware of his heavy gaze upon us. As Genichi slid the door closed, I had one last look at Soujuro sitting there at his low table, the late afternoon sun glinting off his robes, and I was reminded of a spider sitting in the middle of its web, merely waiting for its prey to come to it. It was an image that made me feel very uncomfortable.

Genichi scampered along beside me as we walked again, working the stiffness from my body. He chattered without ceasing, pointing out this or that. Other slaves stopped to smile and greet him; in the time he’d been at Hamanari’s he’d made himself welcome, not surprising, as he was lively and cheerful, pretty to look upon and his voice pleasant on the ear.

They were not so certain of me, however. I had enough of Kin’iro’s look to make them a little nervous, and my keen ears could hear their whispers; ~I~ was the one who’d made the escape attempt. I was the one who’d been taken to Kuroda’s for punishment, and the way I moved, slowly and painfully, was clear evidence of that. The general consensus amongst them was that they should avoid me, as I was certain to bring only trouble down upon their heads. Though I could not blame them, it made me feel even more isolated and alone.

We stopped at the kitchen for tea and a sweet, which Genichi received from the cook in trade for a song. He had a lovely singing voice, with a soft huskiness that was very appealing. I liked listening to him, and so did everyone else. His white cheeks blushed pale pink and he practically bounced in place at the praise from cook and her helpers. They made certain to wrap up extra food for him in a cloth and sent it with us.

Much later, as we ate dinner, and then soaked in the tub again, I thought about Genichi, and about Soujuro. I thought about the way he looked at the boy, and the heat in those dark grey eyes. Though Soujuro was smooth and cultured and handsome, there was something in that piercing gaze that cut me to the bone. And I knew what it was---it was evil. I knew from what he’d done to me; no one could be so foul and be untainted.

Although I’d been overwhelmed, hanging in Kuroda’s chains, sobbing and gasping for breath, wanting only release from the pain, I could remember very clearly Soujuro watching from a darkened corner of that horrible room, his face cool and serene, his eyes shining with a hungry heat. I could remember how, after Kuroda had left, Soujuro had emerged from his darkness, and had touched me. His long, slim pale fingers had moved reverently over blooming bruises and the cuts from Kuroda’s whip; his eyes had shone with an unholy pleasure. He’d gathered some of my blood on his fingertip and brought it to his mouth to taste, his pink tongue lapping my blood as delicately as a kitten. It had made me retch then; now, it still had the power to make my stomach turn alarmingly. And then, he had done other things as I hung there helpless, unable to resist him.

Once in bed, curled into my futon placed beside Genichi’s, I could not sleep for the thoughts that kept spinning within my head. I’d thought I’d known the path they’d chosen for me, but now, I was no longer certain. Too many things had changed for me to believe that my life would be as simple as I once believed. I’d known hatred and disdain all my life, but the way Soujuro looked at me was different. I wasn’t at all certain what he wanted, though very sure I would not like whatever it was. And I certainly didn’t like the way he looked at and touched Genichi.

“Ne, fox-chan. Inochi. Still awake?” Genichi’s soft voice drifted to me through the darkness.

I shifted slowly on my futon, unable to find a comfortable place. “Yes. Still awake.”

“Are you cold?” His voice sounded hopeful, almost. “Too cold, like last night?”

I paused, then realized what he wanted. “Yes, I’m cold.”

I heard a rustle of covers, and then he slipped beneath my own, curling up into my chest, his head on my shoulder. He settled down with a happy sound, his tail draping over my thigh once more, soft and warm.

“I slept with my old Meijin all the time,” Genichi said softly. “He was so old he was always cold. I kept him warm. I didn’t mind it, really. I missed my brothers and sisters...we all slept curled up together to keep warm, and it was a little like that.” A sigh feathered across my throat. “He was very good to me. Petted me, told me stories about when he was a little boy. He’s dead now. I miss him a lot.” He reached up and rubbed his nose with a little snuffling sound.

I wanted to tell him that it would be all right, but I bit my tongue. I had a feeling that things would be far from all right ever again, and I didn’t want to lie. So I petted his narrow back until his breathing evened out into sleep, and his slight body relaxed against my own, trusting. His scent, like autumn, was in my head, in my chest. I wondered what his ki felt like, but chased that thought from my head. It was unlikely I’d ever know now. The faint light caught in the bracelets on my wrists, reminding me of what I’d lost.

Closing my eyes, I curled into Genichi’s warmth and forced all the thoughts from my head. Eventually, I slept.

Chapter Nine

Back to Inochi Index

Back to Linda's Passions

Back to Main Index