Zhizhu went into the kitchen and sank onto the floor in a lotus position. Her blades were at hand, and she closed her eyes, seeking a measure of peace. The wind outside moaned eerily. Her eyes flew open and she tensed, half-expecting an attack. The moment passed and she sat there feeling irritated.
It was a strange thing for Zhizhu, to feel unsafe in her haven. It was supposed to be a place of safety, a place where she did not have to be on constant alert to attacks. Yet she had learned a ritual from Yuki to alert her of intruders. She and the other Scouts had plans to procure jade to protect their homes.
Of course, they had good reason. Being attacked by wraiths while they were sleeping was a fairly good motivation to seek protection. It was fantastic luck that they not only survived the attack, but came out the victors.
For Zhizhu, the lost peace of her home was an annoyance beyond the obvious ramifications. Even as a Devil Tiger, she understood the balances of things. To be an elegant devil, she could not lash out without understanding. Crude chaos was a medium for akuma and beasts. She needed to find a center within herself before she could affect the world around her.
Finding such a center was difficult when every noise was a distraction of possibly fatal origin. Zhizhu refused to let herself become paranoid, but she also could not relax her alertness. It was another reason in a growing list of why she chafed at the court's edict to wage only a war of influence with the Sohei.
She had done well, she thought, at creating a center within herself. It was a place from which she could deal with her power-hungry demon, yet turn its energies to her own uses. She was turning her back on her humanity a piece at a time, yet still found that she could care about her uji-mates. She may never say so to them again, but she had told each that she did care. Except Thorn, but she still did not quite know what to make of him.
Zhizhu had spent more than a week at the court, learning to harness yet more of her demon's power. Now she need not fear starting a fight in a public place; the mortals would simply flee in terror, their minds unable to hold the memory of her form. It was a boon when they did not know if the Sohei would somehow bring the fight to them.
She hoped they did. The woman Peony might have the court's mandate to strike against the Sohei, but no one would fault the Scouts if they were driven to defend themselves. It was true that the Scouts were rapidly expanding their power base in the city, but Zhizhu still felt the storm of a fight hovering on the horizon. The waiting made her restless.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Sohei were in the city. An uji of them, hiding somewhere out in the streets. The lights of downtown sparkled below her, transforming that part of the city into a gaudy jewel. Normally, it was a view she enjoyed. Now, Zhizhu snarled silently as she sat on her balcony. She glared off into the distance, as if even now one of them were perched on top of some building. For all she knew, they were. There was at least one with a winged demon form.
From her glimpse of that one, she was willing to bet that he was of her own dharma. He was likely to be a ferocious opponent. Her fingers flexed, although they lacked the wicked claws of her demon form. Damned Sohei. Why couldn’t they just have stayed out of Anjiro?
It was only to be expected, though. Anjiro had long been a contested territory, and perhaps it was only luck that had led the Yamabushi to send agents before the Sohei. Whatever it was—luck, destiny, or superb planning—her uji had a distinct advantage despite being outnumbered. They had spent their time building resources and influence that the Sohei lacked.
There would be a fight, but Zhizhu was unsure how soon it would come to that. It was more likely that the two ujis would dance around each other for a short while, testing the other’s strengths and weaknesses.
Zhizhu refused to believe that the Thousand Ri Scouts would meet with failure. Failure in this instance would most likely mean death, and Zhizhu didn’t plan on dying until she had reached enlightment. A cold thought blew through her, chilling her more thoroughly than the autumn wind. Her enlightenment would lead her down a path of wickedness, a path of pain and destruction and defilement. It was a path that ran at direct odds with at least one member of her uji.
Sooner or later, Zhizhu would need to leave the uji. Certainly not until the Sohei were dealt with, and possibly not for some time after that. Yet she knew that the time would come, and the thought hurt nearly as deeply as when she said good-bye to Shin.
Shin. She sank into the cheap plastic patio chair, her thoughts taking another sudden detour. He should know that there were Sohei in the city. Her hand was halfway to her pocket to pull out her cell phone before she stopped herself. She laughed at her herself, a harsh, hollow sound. Strange how quickly a habit could be formed, yet how slowly it died.
Someday she might have to face Shin as well, but that was something she had known from the start. If she could help it, that would be a long time in the future--or never. She didn’t want to fight him, but she would. She’d kill him, if necessary. It wasn’t a thought she relished, yet she was certain as stone that she would not pull back a killing blow. She also knew that he would fight just as fiercely, and be equally as ruthless.
She was, after all, a devil.
From her glimpse of that one, she was willing to bet that he was of her own dharma. He was likely to be a ferocious opponent. Her fingers flexed, although they lacked the wicked claws of her demon form. Damned Sohei. Why couldn’t they just have stayed out of Anjiro?
It was only to be expected, though. Anjiro had long been a contested territory, and perhaps it was only luck that had led the Yamabushi to send agents before the Sohei. Whatever it was—luck, destiny, or superb planning—her uji had a distinct advantage despite being outnumbered. They had spent their time building resources and influence that the Sohei lacked.
There would be a fight, but Zhizhu was unsure how soon it would come to that. It was more likely that the two ujis would dance around each other for a short while, testing the other’s strengths and weaknesses.
Zhizhu refused to believe that the Thousand Ri Scouts would meet with failure. Failure in this instance would most likely mean death, and Zhizhu didn’t plan on dying until she had reached enlightment. A cold thought blew through her, chilling her more thoroughly than the autumn wind. Her enlightenment would lead her down a path of wickedness, a path of pain and destruction and defilement. It was a path that ran at direct odds with at least one member of her uji.
Sooner or later, Zhizhu would need to leave the uji. Certainly not until the Sohei were dealt with, and possibly not for some time after that. Yet she knew that the time would come, and the thought hurt nearly as deeply as when she said good-bye to Shin.
Shin. She sank into the cheap plastic patio chair, her thoughts taking another sudden detour. He should know that there were Sohei in the city. Her hand was halfway to her pocket to pull out her cell phone before she stopped herself. She laughed at her herself, a harsh, hollow sound. Strange how quickly a habit could be formed, yet how slowly it died.
Someday she might have to face Shin as well, but that was something she had known from the start. If she could help it, that would be a long time in the future--or never. She didn’t want to fight him, but she would. She’d kill him, if necessary. It wasn’t a thought she relished, yet she was certain as stone that she would not pull back a killing blow. She also knew that he would fight just as fiercely, and be equally as ruthless.
She was, after all, a devil.
Sex
It was early in the evening when Zhizhu realized that something was bothering her, and had been for the last few days. She’d done much introspection after her parting with Shin and the ling she subsequently experienced, but she hadn’t been able to put words to the little nagging feeling at the back of her mind.
It was a question, or rather, two questions that were linked together. Had her pain been only an illusion--had her feelings for Shin been only some sort of hormonal reaction, or perhaps merely an emotional response to just the sex? And could she still enjoy sex, or would she only see Shin’s face, only feel that ragged hole inside her heart?
Obviously, she’d have to fuck somebody to find out. She found herself reluctant to find some boy at a club. It was more important to her than that, and she felt that she should choose someone important as well. It would be better if there was some kind of pre-existing relationship, the better to gauge how the sex affected her.
Usagi was brought immediately to mind. He was not yet officially of her uji, but she still cared for him. She remembered when he had asked to pillow with her, something that even Flaring Grin had never directly asked her. Thought was mother to action, and she found herself dialing the court and asking for the Thrashing Dragon.
It was obvious to her after only an hour that she had both her answers. What she felt for Shin was not some physical response. She felt a sharp, sweet stab of pain. She knew that wound would never close, but it gave her a strength she’d never thought she possessed. It was nice to know that what she felt was genuine. As for the sex…well, she was more than happy to stay with Usagi until dawn.
She wasn’t sure why she asked him to stop when he woke her the next morning, his head between her legs. It was, perhaps, too intimate a thing to be woken by a sexual act. She cared for Usagi, yes, but not as a lover. It made her feel slightly uncomfortable to be so vulnerable to him, even after the previous evening. She hoped that she didn’t offend him, but what was done was done.
And now it was time to pursue her training. She left Usagi’s room with a small smile; and though she was not happy, she was at least feeling at peace. True happiness, like despair, was a luxury to be earned in the next life. But she was content, and ready to face the countless dusks ahead of her.
It was a question, or rather, two questions that were linked together. Had her pain been only an illusion--had her feelings for Shin been only some sort of hormonal reaction, or perhaps merely an emotional response to just the sex? And could she still enjoy sex, or would she only see Shin’s face, only feel that ragged hole inside her heart?
Obviously, she’d have to fuck somebody to find out. She found herself reluctant to find some boy at a club. It was more important to her than that, and she felt that she should choose someone important as well. It would be better if there was some kind of pre-existing relationship, the better to gauge how the sex affected her.
Usagi was brought immediately to mind. He was not yet officially of her uji, but she still cared for him. She remembered when he had asked to pillow with her, something that even Flaring Grin had never directly asked her. Thought was mother to action, and she found herself dialing the court and asking for the Thrashing Dragon.
It was obvious to her after only an hour that she had both her answers. What she felt for Shin was not some physical response. She felt a sharp, sweet stab of pain. She knew that wound would never close, but it gave her a strength she’d never thought she possessed. It was nice to know that what she felt was genuine. As for the sex…well, she was more than happy to stay with Usagi until dawn.
She wasn’t sure why she asked him to stop when he woke her the next morning, his head between her legs. It was, perhaps, too intimate a thing to be woken by a sexual act. She cared for Usagi, yes, but not as a lover. It made her feel slightly uncomfortable to be so vulnerable to him, even after the previous evening. She hoped that she didn’t offend him, but what was done was done.
And now it was time to pursue her training. She left Usagi’s room with a small smile; and though she was not happy, she was at least feeling at peace. True happiness, like despair, was a luxury to be earned in the next life. But she was content, and ready to face the countless dusks ahead of her.
Friday, October 12, 2007
reflections
We are all little tragedies--small, sad stories clothed in flesh and dreaming of redemption.
These words echo in my mind, unexpected poetry from a mind that has strayed far from pretty words. I remember once taking pleasure in words, in their power and the passions they could inflame. I remember going to rallies, where other students would stand up and speak—I remember words like flames, and feeling an echoing fire within myself. That was before my marriage, before my death. My soul was hardened in hell, even as it was split. I had no beauty, no poetry, and no passion.
Until Shin.
My brief time with him awoke something that I thought had not survived my time in hell. I never meant to fall in love with him.
I denied my feelings for some time, perhaps because I knew that to acknowledge them was to bring an end to my time with Shin. Yet I would not change a moment of what has passed. It took the agony of a heart breaking to show me the next step to enlightenment. Perhaps I would have stagnated without that flash of insight. Perhaps I would have found another way to walk the Road Back.
But I doubt that. To wallow in self-pity would have brought me only blindness. I am no longer human--I do not have the luxury of falling into despair. I raise my voice in the Howl of the Devil-Tiger, and the trappings of humanity can only hold me back.
Yet I am not the creature I was. I cannot go back to that, to living like a statue begrudgingly taking part in the world around me. I must know this pain has not killed the passion so recently kindled within me. I have to know that this pain is not hollow.
These words echo in my mind, unexpected poetry from a mind that has strayed far from pretty words. I remember once taking pleasure in words, in their power and the passions they could inflame. I remember going to rallies, where other students would stand up and speak—I remember words like flames, and feeling an echoing fire within myself. That was before my marriage, before my death. My soul was hardened in hell, even as it was split. I had no beauty, no poetry, and no passion.
Until Shin.
My brief time with him awoke something that I thought had not survived my time in hell. I never meant to fall in love with him.
I denied my feelings for some time, perhaps because I knew that to acknowledge them was to bring an end to my time with Shin. Yet I would not change a moment of what has passed. It took the agony of a heart breaking to show me the next step to enlightenment. Perhaps I would have stagnated without that flash of insight. Perhaps I would have found another way to walk the Road Back.
But I doubt that. To wallow in self-pity would have brought me only blindness. I am no longer human--I do not have the luxury of falling into despair. I raise my voice in the Howl of the Devil-Tiger, and the trappings of humanity can only hold me back.
Yet I am not the creature I was. I cannot go back to that, to living like a statue begrudgingly taking part in the world around me. I must know this pain has not killed the passion so recently kindled within me. I have to know that this pain is not hollow.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
"...and the darkness that follows"
Zhizhu sat with her hands folded almost primly in her lap, watching the night-muted reds and golds of autumn-bedecked trees rush by the car. She’d rolled the window down, waiting for Yuki to protest the deafening blast of cold air that now stung her eyes and numbed her cheeks. The Crane, however, seemed to have spoken her piece. Zhizhu was glad; she longed for solitude, but this was the best she was going to get right now.
So this is love, she thought.
No, she amended, this is heartbreak.
The pain had begun to settle within her. At first, it had been a stone. When Zhizhu had said good-bye to Shin, she had felt as if her heart were heavy enough to sink into the earth. For a short while afterward, the pain had transformed into a horde of stinging bees. It had been restless inside her, making her want to lash out and hurt everything around her. She had waited for that phase to end before returning to her uji.
Now it was like water, which reached into and drowned all the hidden little corners of her heart. Hot tears rolled unnoticed into tracks left by equally as unnoticed predecessors, only to be blown away by the cold wind. There was a part of her that still felt like a swarm of hornets, which railed against her decision, against her uji, against life and fate itself.
Is just a little bit of happiness too much to ask for? Zhizhu found herself thinking. She didn’t even need her demon to answer for her. She’d always known that what she’d had with Shin was doomed. They could never have been a happy little couple, walking the streets hand in hand and blissfully ignorant of everything but each other. They’d both known that it would have to end.
She’d had one evening, though. She’d lived in the moment, and she had not cared about the consequences. For part of one evening, Zhizhu had felt and loved and fucked with abandon. Maybe that was why she’d been so rude to Flaring Grin. After the previous evening, somewhere deep inside her she must have known that things with Shin would have to end.
The sweetness of last night threw the pain of today into sharp relief. She found herself wishing solitude again, but this time she wanted the solitude of her kitchen. The sharpness of a blade, and the ephemeral pain of quick cuts. She wanted to carve this pain into her flesh, to make it a part of her until her end.
Zhizhu glanced sidelong at Yuki, who was to all appearances intent on the road. A sign just ahead announced that the springs were only mile away. She thought about what the Crane had said, which only echoed her own thoughts of late. Zhizhu had not, however, considered the possibility of finding Shin again in another life. It was a bittersweet thought. She had found him now, in this life, and she wanted him now. She wanted happiness now.
But she was a gaki. What she wanted—and she found that she wanted it quite fiercely—she would have to wait until her next lifetime for.
Unless she failed.
I will not fail, she vowed. This world will tremble before I’m through. And in my next life, I will have as many chances as I need.
Yuki pulled into the parking lot. The car holding Flaring Grin and Blood Red Thorn was already there. Zhizhu folded the pain up within her, clasping it to her heart like a lover. She turned to Yuki with a calm, cold smile.
“Let us join our uji.”
So this is love, she thought.
No, she amended, this is heartbreak.
The pain had begun to settle within her. At first, it had been a stone. When Zhizhu had said good-bye to Shin, she had felt as if her heart were heavy enough to sink into the earth. For a short while afterward, the pain had transformed into a horde of stinging bees. It had been restless inside her, making her want to lash out and hurt everything around her. She had waited for that phase to end before returning to her uji.
Now it was like water, which reached into and drowned all the hidden little corners of her heart. Hot tears rolled unnoticed into tracks left by equally as unnoticed predecessors, only to be blown away by the cold wind. There was a part of her that still felt like a swarm of hornets, which railed against her decision, against her uji, against life and fate itself.
Is just a little bit of happiness too much to ask for? Zhizhu found herself thinking. She didn’t even need her demon to answer for her. She’d always known that what she’d had with Shin was doomed. They could never have been a happy little couple, walking the streets hand in hand and blissfully ignorant of everything but each other. They’d both known that it would have to end.
She’d had one evening, though. She’d lived in the moment, and she had not cared about the consequences. For part of one evening, Zhizhu had felt and loved and fucked with abandon. Maybe that was why she’d been so rude to Flaring Grin. After the previous evening, somewhere deep inside her she must have known that things with Shin would have to end.
The sweetness of last night threw the pain of today into sharp relief. She found herself wishing solitude again, but this time she wanted the solitude of her kitchen. The sharpness of a blade, and the ephemeral pain of quick cuts. She wanted to carve this pain into her flesh, to make it a part of her until her end.
Zhizhu glanced sidelong at Yuki, who was to all appearances intent on the road. A sign just ahead announced that the springs were only mile away. She thought about what the Crane had said, which only echoed her own thoughts of late. Zhizhu had not, however, considered the possibility of finding Shin again in another life. It was a bittersweet thought. She had found him now, in this life, and she wanted him now. She wanted happiness now.
But she was a gaki. What she wanted—and she found that she wanted it quite fiercely—she would have to wait until her next lifetime for.
Unless she failed.
I will not fail, she vowed. This world will tremble before I’m through. And in my next life, I will have as many chances as I need.
Yuki pulled into the parking lot. The car holding Flaring Grin and Blood Red Thorn was already there. Zhizhu folded the pain up within her, clasping it to her heart like a lover. She turned to Yuki with a calm, cold smile.
“Let us join our uji.”
Thursday, September 13, 2007
the ties that bind
It was like a nightmare, a scene from hell, where she could only watch helplessly as Keeper’s soul was shredded by the winds of Oblivion. He was gone, beyond where any of the uji could reach him. This time, there would be no returning for Keeper of Forgotten Temples. He was just… gone.
********** ********** ***********
Sitting in the Devil-Tiger garden at the court, Zhizhu mused that grief was a strange thing. Every person reacted to it differently. Yuki had retreated into herself after Kiku’s death, yet when Keeper died, she lashed out. Flaring Grin was more self-contained, his pain evident but not consuming. Zhizhu assumed that Flaring Grin’s reaction was a more traditional Japanese reaction, despite her uji-mate’s more Western leanings.
As for herself… she found she reacted to grief by seeking solitude. It was an extremely personal sort of pain, although she had heard once that grief shared was grief halved. She did not shed many tears, but she didn’t feel comfortable shedding them in front of anybody. Not even her uji.
For all their differences, for all their fractiousness, the uji had solidified upon Keeper’s death. Nothing had been spoken, but Zhihzu knew the others had also felt those bonds strengthen. Strange that it had taken such tragedy and threat to show them what had been there for so long now.
She almost felt sorry for Thorn, drawn into this band of close-knit strangers. They were a family--even Usagi. Although the younger Thrashing Dragon was not officially a part of the Scouts, it was an unspoken assumption that only his passing of the Fire and Water test kept him from the uji.
She wondered if Keeper had known how much she did care for him. Regretfully, she decided that he had not. Shows of affection were not her way. Yet he had been like a brother, and she had never shown that in any way. The realization was an uncomfortable one. She assumed that Yuki, Flaring Grin, and Usagi also knew that she viewed them as family, that she cared deeply for them and would fight any foe for them. But how could she make such an assumption when she had never shown even a shred of her feelings?
It is just as well, her P’o answered. You leave yourself too open to them, you show too much weakness. It is better that they do not realize how weak you are to them.
That is not true. “Passions of the soul.” I didn’t realize what that encompassed, or how important it is. I have embraced Yin, I have hidden my emotions until I begin to doubt that they truly exist. That is no way for a Devil-Tiger to live. Emotion is like instinct, a central part of any person. There is strength is emotional bonds. My uji became even stronger in the face of grief and adversity.
Is this about your uji…. Or about Shin?
Zhizhu felt herself flush deeply. Why must it be about one or the other? Both influence my life.
But you aren’t fucking your uji.
No, I’m not. I’m fucking an attractive, extremely dangerous man. It’s just as much the danger as anything else that draws me to Shin.
Is that why you persist in leaving yourself completely vulnerable to him? For the thrill of it? I think not. You wanted to helpless. You wanted to know if he’d kill you when he had the chance. And now you are losing your head. It won't be long before you literally lose it, and you know it. There’s no way he’ll let you live if he ever comes across you and your victims.
You think I don’t know that?
I think you don’t care. You should kill him now, before he becomes a real threat. It would be easy… just kill him during sex. No weapons, you could just break his neck. Like you did with Yi.
No! I won’t kill him now, and you won’t either. I control you, not the other way around. You’d do well to remember that. You may be a part of me, but I WILL do things on my own terms!
You’re losing control.
No, I’m relinquishing control. There’s a difference. If I just sit back and observe life, never feeling, never living, I might as well join the Bone Flowers.
Her P'o was quiet after that, but she could feel it biding its time. It was always hovering there, like the spider she'd taken her name from. But she was a Devil-Tiger, and she was stronger than her demon. She wanted explore her feelings, to acknowledge them and revel in them. It would take time--she had wound herself in her own sorts of webs--but she felt a curious freedom in her decision.
She rose and left the garden, smiling.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
"Meditate upon the flash of passion...."
Zhizhu sat naked in the small kitchen of her condo; the linoleum was cool under her bare skin. She held a scalpel-like tool in one hand, the kind you’d buy at a crafts store. The blade was too small for a weapon, but the edge was razor sharp. Perfect for her meditation.
There was already a pattern of scars across her abdomen; it lay across her belly and hips like an intricately woven belt. She found where she had left off and placed the blade on her skin; with a swift cut she added the next line in the pattern. The pain followed a few moments later.
She closed her eyes, buoyed by that rush of sensation. Her thoughts wandered, images and snippets of conversation flashing by without meaning or context. She was not surprised to find herself remembering the previous evening. Her breath quickened, and a smile touched her lips. She had taken what she wanted, and on her terms. She’d have to repair a few things in her office, but that was small price to pay.
She cut another line.
She had taken a tremendous risk, allowing herself to be helpless with Shin. Her P’o still screamed at the stupidity of that particular action, but she did not regret that either. Her near obsession with control was a stumbling block in her path to enlightenment. Even earlier in the evening, she had held herself back. However, she knew now that she could relinquish control; she could act and react without thought and second-guessing. It would take time to live as a Devil-Tiger should—almost on instinct alone—but she had taken that first step.
Another cut, another painful kiss of the blade.
She had risen this morning only a little bit surprised to still be alive. Shin had, after all, told her that he had no reason to kill her. Still, she would not forget that she was gaki and he a Shih demon hunter. No matter what happened between them, nothing could change that. She was all too aware that they might still end up at the opposite ends of each other’s weapons. It was more than a slim possibility.
Shin knew what she was--she had told him months before about the Devil-Tiger’s path of pain and wickedness. But he had never seen what she could do. Would last night have happened if Shin knew about Yi? She was not pursuing torture as a road to enlightenment right now, but she would not turn from performing it if the circumstances warranted. She had killed innocents in cold blood. She had made a man into a slavering parody of humanity. It was her dharma’s way, but she knew that Shin would never understand.
Two cuts. She felt her blood dripping down to form a tiny pool on the cool, gray-and-white patterned flooring.
Shin had called her earlier that evening, to give her information about the kumo. She flushed again, recalling his voice saying, “Zhizhu-chan?”
She had wanted to think of it as nothing but sex. Yet that one little word had brought back her confusion. She took a deep breath, adding yet another cut to steady herself. Her P’o had taunted her with it, and she’d refused to listen. There was something there, some fluttering, heady feeling, but she was way out of her depth. Did he feel something for her? Was it simply the afterglow of a night of intense fucking? Did she… did she feel something for him—even something as simple as infatuation? It was so hard to recall the petty crushes she’d had on boys in high school.
Yuki might know. Her marriage had been a sad thing, but Yuki had had Kiku. Theirs had been a passionate relationship, and they’d had a deep love for each other. Zhizhu did not ever expect to feel anything like that, but perhaps Yuki could help her to sort out what feelings she did have.
She stood then, not quite healing the cuts on her belly. She grabbed a wad of paper towels to mop up the blood from her floor and then herself. There were plans to be made, and time enough to sort out her emotions later. She paused, frowning. They might not survive their dealings with the kumo. If that was her fate, such musings were a moot point. But if a few days were all she had left, she would make the most of them.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Will new nightclub "Eclipse" the competition?
Nightclubs are becoming more and more common in the downtown scene of Anjiro. As the city grows, so does the city's culture. We have clubs like The Anime, which seeks to blend nightlife with pop culture, and The Temple, which uses a more traditional theme. But opening soon will be a more aggressive competitor.
Eclipse is the brainchild of Meixiu Nao, once a performer for the Peacock Fan circus. The interior as you walk in is deceptively simple; dark walls with little decoration, a spacious dance floor skirted by a raised stage. There are dancing cages here, but you need to be especially athletic to reach them--each of the four cages is ten feet up the wall, accessible by ladder.
But as you explore the club, half-hidden nooks are revealed. There are a series of small rooms on the second floor, with "windows" to allow the occupants to observe the dancers below. Each of these rooms is lavishly--and sometimes garishly--decorated. One is a gothic fantasy, with faux ironwork grates over the window. Another is like stepping into the cover of a heavy metal band's album cover. Each room is furnished with an assortment of chairs and tables.
Nao explained that the rooms are meant to give people a place to relax and socialize, a place to enjoy the club and the food and drinks that will be served there. She also said the rooms reflect what the club is really all about--the music.
"Many of the clubs in town only play techno, or remixes of popular music. There is a lot of music that gets overlooked, and that's what we'll be playing here. Goth, metal, punk. Underground stuff. I'm hoping to be able to host local bands, as well. I want Eclipse to be a focal point for that subculture."
It's not hard to see the former fire-dancer as the owner of a goth/punk club. She seems at home in leather, pierced and tattooed. She admitted that she wished that city ordinances would allow her to put a tattoo parlor in the club, but allowed that alcohol and tattoo guns rarely make for a good mixture.
The Eclipse grand opening will be next Saturday, with drink specials that will change every hour and and DJ Hideko visiting from Tokyo.
**** **** ****
Zhizhu grabbed a stack of flyers from the box strapped to the back of her motorcycle. She smiled at the young reporter; she thought his name was Hachiro. He looked a little shaken from his ride behind her, but smiled back and pulled out his little micro-cassette recorder. Inwardly, she was annoyed, but he'd wanted the damned interview despite having to come out with her.
She had hoped she'd be able to put off the overly-earnest young man. She'd done several interviews already, mostly for various websites dedicated to the nightlife of Anjiro. She didn't particularly like talking to the so-called reporters. So she'd told him that she needed to put up flyers in the park; he'd responded that he'd enjoy walking in the park. He'd seemed thrilled by her "dedication" to the advertisement of her club.
She tried her best to be charming as he asked his tedious little questions. He wasn't important, and neither was this interview. At best, it would be read by 10 or 15 people, another dead-end article on the web. Then again, she didn't want any kind of bad press. She'd invested three months of her time and all her resources into Eclipse. So she smiled, and told him what she wanted her potential customers to know.
It caught her completely by surprise when she saw Shin. She was taping a flyer up on a lamp post and had looked over her shoulder to answer Hachiro. Sitting on a bench across the park was the demon hunter. He didn't appear to be looking her way, but she knew that he'd seen her. How long he'd been there she had no idea, and that bothered her.
He looked up at that point, and their eyes met. Some strange emotion washed over her--it wasn't fear, but was somehow kin to it. She felt it in the pit of her stomach. She wasn't embarrassed, but she felt the hot rush of blood in her cheeks.
"Miss Nao? Are you alright?" Hachiro was looking at her strangely, and she realized she'd completely forgotten the reporter for a moment.
"I'm fine. What was that last question?" She glanced past Hachiro's shoulder again, to see Shin give her a little wave. She gave a curt nod, then answered Hachiro's question. She diverted the reporter away from that part of the park, walking them back towards her motorcycle. Now was not the time to deal with the hunter, and a part of her was grateful for the presence of the annoying young reporter. She was not quite sure what had just happened, but she knew that the next time she saw Shin, it would at the very least be an interesting encounter.
Eclipse is the brainchild of Meixiu Nao, once a performer for the Peacock Fan circus. The interior as you walk in is deceptively simple; dark walls with little decoration, a spacious dance floor skirted by a raised stage. There are dancing cages here, but you need to be especially athletic to reach them--each of the four cages is ten feet up the wall, accessible by ladder.
But as you explore the club, half-hidden nooks are revealed. There are a series of small rooms on the second floor, with "windows" to allow the occupants to observe the dancers below. Each of these rooms is lavishly--and sometimes garishly--decorated. One is a gothic fantasy, with faux ironwork grates over the window. Another is like stepping into the cover of a heavy metal band's album cover. Each room is furnished with an assortment of chairs and tables.
Nao explained that the rooms are meant to give people a place to relax and socialize, a place to enjoy the club and the food and drinks that will be served there. She also said the rooms reflect what the club is really all about--the music.
"Many of the clubs in town only play techno, or remixes of popular music. There is a lot of music that gets overlooked, and that's what we'll be playing here. Goth, metal, punk. Underground stuff. I'm hoping to be able to host local bands, as well. I want Eclipse to be a focal point for that subculture."
It's not hard to see the former fire-dancer as the owner of a goth/punk club. She seems at home in leather, pierced and tattooed. She admitted that she wished that city ordinances would allow her to put a tattoo parlor in the club, but allowed that alcohol and tattoo guns rarely make for a good mixture.
The Eclipse grand opening will be next Saturday, with drink specials that will change every hour and and DJ Hideko visiting from Tokyo.
**** **** ****
Zhizhu grabbed a stack of flyers from the box strapped to the back of her motorcycle. She smiled at the young reporter; she thought his name was Hachiro. He looked a little shaken from his ride behind her, but smiled back and pulled out his little micro-cassette recorder. Inwardly, she was annoyed, but he'd wanted the damned interview despite having to come out with her.
She had hoped she'd be able to put off the overly-earnest young man. She'd done several interviews already, mostly for various websites dedicated to the nightlife of Anjiro. She didn't particularly like talking to the so-called reporters. So she'd told him that she needed to put up flyers in the park; he'd responded that he'd enjoy walking in the park. He'd seemed thrilled by her "dedication" to the advertisement of her club.
She tried her best to be charming as he asked his tedious little questions. He wasn't important, and neither was this interview. At best, it would be read by 10 or 15 people, another dead-end article on the web. Then again, she didn't want any kind of bad press. She'd invested three months of her time and all her resources into Eclipse. So she smiled, and told him what she wanted her potential customers to know.
It caught her completely by surprise when she saw Shin. She was taping a flyer up on a lamp post and had looked over her shoulder to answer Hachiro. Sitting on a bench across the park was the demon hunter. He didn't appear to be looking her way, but she knew that he'd seen her. How long he'd been there she had no idea, and that bothered her.
He looked up at that point, and their eyes met. Some strange emotion washed over her--it wasn't fear, but was somehow kin to it. She felt it in the pit of her stomach. She wasn't embarrassed, but she felt the hot rush of blood in her cheeks.
"Miss Nao? Are you alright?" Hachiro was looking at her strangely, and she realized she'd completely forgotten the reporter for a moment.
"I'm fine. What was that last question?" She glanced past Hachiro's shoulder again, to see Shin give her a little wave. She gave a curt nod, then answered Hachiro's question. She diverted the reporter away from that part of the park, walking them back towards her motorcycle. Now was not the time to deal with the hunter, and a part of her was grateful for the presence of the annoying young reporter. She was not quite sure what had just happened, but she knew that the next time she saw Shin, it would at the very least be an interesting encounter.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Grief and murder
Not Kiku. Not again.
The words sounded through Zhizhu’s mind like some enormous brass gong, reverberating and jarring.
They had been so close to rescuing her. They had all thought that they’d be saving her from mistreatment, from rape. Not from… that. To have even her spirit stilled and made inert. Kiku, who had been the most vibrant person the Devil-Tiger had ever encountered. And Shard… to have to face Kiku’s death again, to be unable to save her from such an ignoble fate. Zhizhu felt the wrongness of it, and wished she could lop off that effeminate fool’s ghostly head.
Zhizhu was as unaccustomed to grief as she was to love. Kiku’s mortal death had been hard, but there had been swift vengeance. They had been so close to saving her.
Not Kiku. Not again.
She thought to distract herself by tending to her day-to-day duties. She knew she did not feel the pain that Shard did, but there was a definite sense of loss. Anger as well--at herself for not acting more quickly, at the incompetent magistrate of Anjiro’s necropolis, at the world for allowing such a light to be so irretrievably quenched.
She had gone to the basement, to check on Yi. He had, somehow, picked up on her morose mood and attempted to be comforting. The last thing she wanted for him to speak to her, especially in any way other than as a servant to his mistress. As she cuffed him, and he went skittering into a corner, she wondered if she should just kill him. She would not be using the basement as much, and he was a drain on her resources.
Would five years of suffering really teach him? Was it enlightenment that drove her to that goal, or simply vengeance?
Days passed, and she became so embroiled in her various plans that the grief of Kiku’s second death settled in and became just another part of her. She had finally set her plans in motion to open a nightclub. The idea was somehow revitalizing, and she thought it held more opportunity for enlightenment. With a nightclub, things would be changing and growing constantly. She’d be building influence and influencing the lives of her customers. She turned the idea over in her mind, and found that she genuinely liked it.
The uji had moved, as she had realized the hunter had her wallet and could possibly track her back to their apartment building. As they moved into the new set of condos, Zhizhu asked Flaring Grin to inform the Peacock Fan that she was quitting. Her interest in performing there had waned, and she knew her free time would be taken primarily by readying the club.
She returned to her basement, having thought for a long time about what to do with Yi. She descended the stairs, flicking on the bright overhead lights. He must have been sleeping, but was startled awake and came cautiously to her side. She studied him—the bent posture, the servile expression on his disfigured face. She sighed. It was a waste, really.
It had been a glorious moment for her, breaking him. Yet she knew now that she had rushed it. Not the torture itself--that had taken weeks--but the act in its entirety. She had years in which to accomplish all she needed for her koa; now she feared enlightenment through the pain of others would be more difficult to realize. Her haste had produced a moment of ling, but may have closed that door for an indeterminate length of time.
He looked up her, emotions he no longer had the will to conceal flitting across his scarred features. Fear, confusion, fawning servility. Five years would not teach him, if he had not already learned what it was like to be helplessly at the control of another. He had been a mistake, and she looked upon all this as a lesson for herself. She regarded him almost with regret, for the corrupt Yama Kings would not instruct his soul in the hells, and she doubted he had the will to ever claw his way out. He was a pitiable thing now, and she wondered that he had once wielded such great power over her life.
She spoke no words to him, nothing that might warn him of her intentions and thus give him a chance to struggle. She snapped his neck quickly, quietly, and he dropped to concrete floor with a dull thud. She felt no grief, no pain, nor sorrow. Nor did she feel any satisfaction with her deed. It had simply been a task long overdue.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Passion & Fire
Just when it seemed she most needed time for a long meditation, time was in short supply for Zhizhu. On the heels of the action she’d taken to save the hunter’s—Shin’s—life, there came news of Kiku’s abduction by Chinese wraiths. The uji cared for Kiku, each in their own way. Zhihzu knew there were few people who could claim the devotion the Scouts showed towards the former geisha. Even as a wraith, a threat to the once-vibrant young woman could spur them to immediate action.
No doubt they’d cobble together some sort of plan before going into the Shadowlands to rescue Kiku. But the long drive back, crouched low on her motorcycle, would give her time to reflect on what had happened with Shin.
She was still uncertain as to why she’d let him live. Let him? She’d actually worked rather hard to keep him alive. She’d struggled to take out the harpoon head without further injuring him; she’d given him her own chi-laden blood to heal him. She hadn’t just let him live, she’d actively saved his life.
She had meant what she’d said, about his death being no boon to the city. While the Shih had taken up their mantle as hunters of their own accord, they performed a necessary and important function. She was somehow comforted by the fact that if she became an akuma, there would be someone there to stop her. Someone with no emotional ties to her, who would not hesitate to kill her if she became corrupted.
And yet, she knew she could trust her uji to fulfill that duty, should that day come. Despite any bonds they had, she knew even soft-hearted Shard would not hesitate to strike a killing blow. Her confusion over the incident lent strength to her P’o; she’d come far too close to losing control of her demon back in the alley where she’d found him. There was some truth to her demon’s rant about having Shin as her creature, and a part of her was curious to know how someone like him would fare as her victim.
She could not do that, however. She didn’t know the extent of his powers, and there was no guarantee that he’d have been helpless even in his injured state. Besides, to break him she’d have had to heal him, and then he definitely would have been dangerous. Add to that the fact that torture had not been very enlightening for her since breaking Yi. She remembered the warnings of her teachers not to plunge too quickly into her role as a demon. Each step along the Road Back was more difficult. It was best not to become jaded early in her life as a gaki.
She thought of the other tenets of her dharma, those which spoke of passion and fire. It was time to turn her thoughts towards these tenets. There was that nightclub she’d been thinking of opening—it would be a good opportunity to “seek the brightest embers and feed them until become bonfires.” Her mind suddenly supplied her with an image of Shin, barely clad, and she would have blushed had she been scarlet-cycled. There would be time to explore that particular option later. Maybe if she just fucked him and got it over with, she’d have an end to this annoying conflict of emotion.
She smiled, a feeling of certainty coming back to her. She didn’t need to fret and worry over the hunter. It didn’t really matter why she’d saved his life—just that she’d done it. If he became a problem later, she’d handle it. And if she had the opportunity, she’d handle him in a quite different way. Maybe it wouldn’t even come to that; she’d gotten turned on, but it could have been something about the situation. Whatever it was, she’d deal with it when the time came.
Feeling much better, she returned her thoughts to the approaching rescue mission.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
family matters, part one
It did not take long to dispose of Ketsuo's body; Zhizhu returned to find Yi still cleaning up the blood and bits of brain matter that had splattered with the gunshot. She regarded the scene coolly, her gaze lingering on the cold metal table where the yakuza lieutenant had lain. She scowled, clenching a fist, and did not notice Yi's wince at her sudden change in mood.
It was her first time torturing simply for information. She'd agreed readily to the plan, looking forward to the new experience. And yet, with the man in her clutches, it had proven disappointing. He had broken so quickly that at first she'd been convinced he was faking. She'd relished the thought of working on one with the will of a yakuza, a man who'd risen to power by stepping on the backs of others.
And yet, nothing. The experience was empty. Perhaps it was simply that the experience came on the heels of the headiness that followed breaking Yi. She'd experienced so much triumph and satisfaction from that act, it'd felt like the high of a drug. No wonder that such a simple job as Ketsuo felt like a letdown.
Suddenly, she grimaced, as if in pain. Was it that headiness, that rush of power, which led so many astray? Had she begun to set her foot upon the first step to becoming an akuma? No. A fate that one is aware of is a fate that one may avoid. Still, she thought, I understand better how the Yama Kings could have set aside their duties to Heaven.
She looked at Yi, who had paused in his cleaning and was watching her with wide eyes. When he saw her looking at him, his head snapped down and he redoubled his efforts. That heady feeling returned, and she dissected it. Triumph--it had taken weeks to grind him down, to reduce a proud, powerful man to this. Satisfaction--she had sucessfully dealt with one facet of her koa. She had taken her vengeance. And yet, that was not all.
She tried to think of Yi in the hells. He would suffer, oh yes. Probably more than any torture she could devise. And yet, his spirit would be wasted in hell. It would stay there, for eternity, as a toy for some Yama King. She thought long on the punishment she had chosen for him, and decided it was just. He had treated her as nothing more than a blow-up doll, something pretty to trot out in front of his clients and then put away until he needed to fuck something. She could only assume he'd treated his other wife the same way.
Now he was the lowly one, the one who served and had little value beyond that. He would learn about the pain he had inflicted, pain which had nothing to do with physical wounds. She felt the rightness of that, and she smiled.
It was her first time torturing simply for information. She'd agreed readily to the plan, looking forward to the new experience. And yet, with the man in her clutches, it had proven disappointing. He had broken so quickly that at first she'd been convinced he was faking. She'd relished the thought of working on one with the will of a yakuza, a man who'd risen to power by stepping on the backs of others.
And yet, nothing. The experience was empty. Perhaps it was simply that the experience came on the heels of the headiness that followed breaking Yi. She'd experienced so much triumph and satisfaction from that act, it'd felt like the high of a drug. No wonder that such a simple job as Ketsuo felt like a letdown.
Suddenly, she grimaced, as if in pain. Was it that headiness, that rush of power, which led so many astray? Had she begun to set her foot upon the first step to becoming an akuma? No. A fate that one is aware of is a fate that one may avoid. Still, she thought, I understand better how the Yama Kings could have set aside their duties to Heaven.
She looked at Yi, who had paused in his cleaning and was watching her with wide eyes. When he saw her looking at him, his head snapped down and he redoubled his efforts. That heady feeling returned, and she dissected it. Triumph--it had taken weeks to grind him down, to reduce a proud, powerful man to this. Satisfaction--she had sucessfully dealt with one facet of her koa. She had taken her vengeance. And yet, that was not all.
She tried to think of Yi in the hells. He would suffer, oh yes. Probably more than any torture she could devise. And yet, his spirit would be wasted in hell. It would stay there, for eternity, as a toy for some Yama King. She thought long on the punishment she had chosen for him, and decided it was just. He had treated her as nothing more than a blow-up doll, something pretty to trot out in front of his clients and then put away until he needed to fuck something. She could only assume he'd treated his other wife the same way.
Now he was the lowly one, the one who served and had little value beyond that. He would learn about the pain he had inflicted, pain which had nothing to do with physical wounds. She felt the rightness of that, and she smiled.
Monday, August 6, 2007
family matters, part two
Shard's self-isolation was somehow unsettling to Zhizhu. She wasn't sure why this was so, and sat to poke and prod her thoughts and feelings into order. It was not as if Shard had ever been overwhelmingly social. She sometimes seemed to wear her shyness as armor, except when she was around Kiku--or when she'd gotten so involved in some explanation or plan that she'd forgotten her timidity. Yet Shard had never before gone out of her way to avoid everyone for so long.
Zhizhu knew the other girl must still be grieving, though she retreated into her dharma's Black Metal Egg to do so. And Shard had been correct when she'd pointed out that Zhizhu had never known love, could never know the pain that accompanied the tragic end of that love. Zhizhu regretted her conversation with Shard; it had done neither of them any good.
She spent a few moments wishing she could take back the entire conversation, but allowed those thoughts to pass on. She couldn't take it back, and she wouldn't waste her time crying about it. She wanted to support her uji-mate, but didn't know how. She respected the other dharmas, and yet had almost berated Shard for following hers. She wished that Shard would accept the pain, make it a part of herself and thus grow stronger--but she could not expect a Bone Flower to let loose the Howl of the Devil-Tiger. Shard had her own road to walk, and Zhizhu needed to accept that.
What would the others think, if they could see into her thoughts? Would they believe that it was more than the bindings of ritual which held her to them? She smiled, a small, bitter thing. She could hear her shadow soul, felt the disdain of her darker self. If the others could hear you, they'd use your weaknesses against you. Or worse, they'd pity you, fool that you are. Why waste any time or energy worrying about them? You should be focusing on their weak spots. Play them like you all played the Amidas. Bring them under your control without them ever knowing you orchestrated the entire thing.
Shut. Up.
No! You've had plenty of chances to have this uji firmly under your bootheel, and you've discarded them all! I'll make you listen to me! I'll lay the traps and wait for them to blunder into my web!
She felt her P'o struggle for control, rising and ripping through to the forefront of her consciousness. This is my uji. You will not hurt them. You will not control them! It was like the fight with Tetsumiya all over again, except it was a purely mental battle. It was not claw versus sword; will was the weapon in this battle of her split soul.
WHY DO YOU CARE?! They are your uji only because you were all in the right place at the right time! The Court threw you together. They are only stepping stones!
No, they aren't. It doesn't matter why I care. Only that I do! The Court may have simply thrown us to together for their purposes. That doesn't matter either. You will not touch them. I would lay down my life for any of them--Keeper, Shard, or Flaring Grin. They may not know it--I may not show it--but they are what I never had in my First Breath.
And what is that?, the demon sneered.
She thought of her uji. Of Flaring Grin's compassion and laughter. Of Keeper's quiet strength and Shard's sweet shyness and sharp mind. And she thought she might understand what love was after all. My family.
She held back the raging force of her P'o. Had she been scarlet-cycled, she might have broken a sweat with the effort it cost her. But in the end, her demon-self slunk off into the shadows of her psyche.
Zhizhu knew the other girl must still be grieving, though she retreated into her dharma's Black Metal Egg to do so. And Shard had been correct when she'd pointed out that Zhizhu had never known love, could never know the pain that accompanied the tragic end of that love. Zhizhu regretted her conversation with Shard; it had done neither of them any good.
She spent a few moments wishing she could take back the entire conversation, but allowed those thoughts to pass on. She couldn't take it back, and she wouldn't waste her time crying about it. She wanted to support her uji-mate, but didn't know how. She respected the other dharmas, and yet had almost berated Shard for following hers. She wished that Shard would accept the pain, make it a part of herself and thus grow stronger--but she could not expect a Bone Flower to let loose the Howl of the Devil-Tiger. Shard had her own road to walk, and Zhizhu needed to accept that.
What would the others think, if they could see into her thoughts? Would they believe that it was more than the bindings of ritual which held her to them? She smiled, a small, bitter thing. She could hear her shadow soul, felt the disdain of her darker self. If the others could hear you, they'd use your weaknesses against you. Or worse, they'd pity you, fool that you are. Why waste any time or energy worrying about them? You should be focusing on their weak spots. Play them like you all played the Amidas. Bring them under your control without them ever knowing you orchestrated the entire thing.
Shut. Up.
No! You've had plenty of chances to have this uji firmly under your bootheel, and you've discarded them all! I'll make you listen to me! I'll lay the traps and wait for them to blunder into my web!
She felt her P'o struggle for control, rising and ripping through to the forefront of her consciousness. This is my uji. You will not hurt them. You will not control them! It was like the fight with Tetsumiya all over again, except it was a purely mental battle. It was not claw versus sword; will was the weapon in this battle of her split soul.
WHY DO YOU CARE?! They are your uji only because you were all in the right place at the right time! The Court threw you together. They are only stepping stones!
No, they aren't. It doesn't matter why I care. Only that I do! The Court may have simply thrown us to together for their purposes. That doesn't matter either. You will not touch them. I would lay down my life for any of them--Keeper, Shard, or Flaring Grin. They may not know it--I may not show it--but they are what I never had in my First Breath.
And what is that?, the demon sneered.
She thought of her uji. Of Flaring Grin's compassion and laughter. Of Keeper's quiet strength and Shard's sweet shyness and sharp mind. And she thought she might understand what love was after all. My family.
She held back the raging force of her P'o. Had she been scarlet-cycled, she might have broken a sweat with the effort it cost her. But in the end, her demon-self slunk off into the shadows of her psyche.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
two sides of the coin
Rage--it had welled up within her, an ice cold fire that had surprised her with its intensity. She watched as Shard ran to the body of her murdered lover, watched as the Bone Flower collapsed in the blood to clutch Kiku's head. Tetsumiya, a part of whispered, some part that seemed neither wind or shadow soul, but some piece of her awakened by that flaming cold inside her.
Almost without realizing what she was doing, she ran to the service telephone in the hallway. She marveled at how calmly she waited while the operator connected her to the security department. Her voice was as even as ever, as she informed the men that Kiku-san was dead, that Tetsumiya was her murderer and must be detained. And yet she knew, somehow, that he was already gone.
Shard, as she had feared, was devastated. It was better to leave the girl here, to the security of the Clouds & Rain and what agents of the court would be summoned. From what Zhizhu had seen, Shard was too deeply entrenched in her grief to do what needed to be done now. The rage flared again, as sharp on her heart as the mirror shards that littered the bloody floor. It was time to go, and Zhizhu was impatient to be after Tetsumiya.
The rest of her uji was not too far behind her, despite the greater maneuverability of her motorcycle. The demon within her decried all rationality, urging her to heedless action. But she would not be ruled by her shadow soul, even though she wished to tear out Tetsumiya's heart with her bare hands. She quelled the worst of her demon's urges, channeling the rest as she shifted to her demon form outside Tetsumiya's dojo.
The students she fought were almost nothing to her, as if they'd been nothing but mannequins thrown at her by her true target. When she did see Tetsumiya, she knew it was him. She could see the resemblance to Kiku, in the arch of his brow, the line of his nose. Images flashed through her mind; throwing open the door of the Clouds & Rain fitness room, blood reflected in the shattered, mirrored walls, Kiku's bloodless, lifeless face. The expression on Shard's face, as if all the light in the world had suddenly been extinguished.
The fight was evenly matched. Claw against sword, the two of them flowed through steps in a dance only one would finish. The rest of her uji was, for the moment, forgotten. This man, this thrice-damned dhampyr, would pay for murdering Kiku. He'd killed others, but it was Kiku's death that she could not let go un-avenged. How dare he?! How dare he decide that because his existence was misery, that he was going to extinguish such a light and beauty as Kiku?! Her demon rose up, laughing at her anger and seeking to ride it to the forefront of her consciousness.
Somehow, she managed to quell her demon as she fought. Walls were smashed through, and she barely evaded his blows. He raked at her, catching her in a place unprotected by her demon's carapace. The pain nearly stunned her, and she was slow to recover. However, she threw him against another wall, into the tiled-lined showers. It was almost cinematic, the damage they did to the room around them as they fought. Steam from broken pipes filled the room; Tetsumiya's face shone with sweat and water rolled in large droplets off the shiny black of her body.
And suddenly, it was over. She'd slipped through Tetsumiya's defense, skewering him on her claws. Triumphant, she watched the man die, feeling his last twitches as she pushed his body off her arm. The hate and rage faded. A death for a death. Darkness taken to balance the light he had murdered. She was bruised, hungry from spending her chi to heal during the fight. Once again, she fought down her demon as she bent to take what little chi the dojo-master had left.
The aftermath was brief. Yakuza agents from the court set out to hunt down what remained of Tetsumiya's students. The Thousand Ri Scouts were instructed to return to the Court of the White River. Tetsumiya's body was unceremoniously dumped into the trunk of the car Flaring Grin drove. They reunited with Shard at the court, but Zhizhu was not sure the Bone Flower was even cognizant of her surroundings.
Shard answered the questions of Yamabushi-sama, but offered no words of her own. Even after the uji was dismissed, Shard ignored them. Zhizhu followed her only long enough to assure her that Tetsumiya had suffered. Beyond that, there was nothing the Devil-Tiger could do for her uji-mate. Time would tell if she was so lost in her grief that the uji would be broken once again. Until then, Zhizhu was content to give the Song of Shadows the solitude she obviously wanted.
Zhizhu had never known love so heart-wrenchingly strong. She watched Shard walk towards the Bone Flower gardens, Flaring Grin trailing in her wake. For a moment, it was not regret or pity that she felt towards Shard, but a sharp stab of envy. What was such a bond like? What was it like to love someone so much? To feel that love returned to you? She ignored the condescension of her shadow soul. Weakness was besides the point. She felt she could understand the Laughing Rainbows a little more, if that level of passion was what they sought. And in the same moment, she also understood the Bone Flowers' desire to set such debilitating passion aside.
Was there no place in her existence for beauty and light? She thought of Sweet Swallow's Song, of the music that was so very much a part of her fellow Devil-Tiger. Zhizhu did not know how to pursue the nebulous desires of her wind soul. She only knew that the human part of her was stronger these days. Still, the path she walked was one of a devil on earth. After the fight with Tetsumiya, she knew that she should be more than just an even match against any mortal, even one of the dhampyr. It was time to see Terrible Thunder Talons and improve her ability to channel her demon.
While she trained, the Scouts returned to Anjiro. Flaring Grin was focused on taking over the yakuza family there. Zhizhu could see the importance of controlling them, especially after the Yedo yakuza family had shown up to the fight at the dojo. She did not, however, see what she could do to help his endeavor. If he needed someone killed, or tortured, so be it. Beyond that, he'd have to turn to the others. She was no politician, and her idea of diplomacy was to actually inform her victims that she had a gun to their head before she pulled the trigger.
Still, she would do what she could. There was just so much she needed to do. She wished to take a more active hand in the training of the infant devil. She looked forward to the time when she had a name with which to call him, rather than simply referring to him as the "infant devil." And of course there was Yi. She needed to return to him, to finish his training. She'd been much too sporadic, and she feared that she'd need to backtrack.
She needn't have worried. When she did return to Yi, she had a moment in which she just knew what to do that would push him over the edge. Almost lovingly, she plied her arts and was rewarded by his complete breakdown. He was her creature now, and he would serve her like dog. Her phone rang at one point, but she merely turned it off and tossed it onto her folded coat. Nothing would interrupt this moment of triumph. His screams were more beautiful than any music Sweet Swallow's Song could produce. Who needed love when she had hate as pure as this?
Almost without realizing what she was doing, she ran to the service telephone in the hallway. She marveled at how calmly she waited while the operator connected her to the security department. Her voice was as even as ever, as she informed the men that Kiku-san was dead, that Tetsumiya was her murderer and must be detained. And yet she knew, somehow, that he was already gone.
Shard, as she had feared, was devastated. It was better to leave the girl here, to the security of the Clouds & Rain and what agents of the court would be summoned. From what Zhizhu had seen, Shard was too deeply entrenched in her grief to do what needed to be done now. The rage flared again, as sharp on her heart as the mirror shards that littered the bloody floor. It was time to go, and Zhizhu was impatient to be after Tetsumiya.
The rest of her uji was not too far behind her, despite the greater maneuverability of her motorcycle. The demon within her decried all rationality, urging her to heedless action. But she would not be ruled by her shadow soul, even though she wished to tear out Tetsumiya's heart with her bare hands. She quelled the worst of her demon's urges, channeling the rest as she shifted to her demon form outside Tetsumiya's dojo.
The students she fought were almost nothing to her, as if they'd been nothing but mannequins thrown at her by her true target. When she did see Tetsumiya, she knew it was him. She could see the resemblance to Kiku, in the arch of his brow, the line of his nose. Images flashed through her mind; throwing open the door of the Clouds & Rain fitness room, blood reflected in the shattered, mirrored walls, Kiku's bloodless, lifeless face. The expression on Shard's face, as if all the light in the world had suddenly been extinguished.
The fight was evenly matched. Claw against sword, the two of them flowed through steps in a dance only one would finish. The rest of her uji was, for the moment, forgotten. This man, this thrice-damned dhampyr, would pay for murdering Kiku. He'd killed others, but it was Kiku's death that she could not let go un-avenged. How dare he?! How dare he decide that because his existence was misery, that he was going to extinguish such a light and beauty as Kiku?! Her demon rose up, laughing at her anger and seeking to ride it to the forefront of her consciousness.
Somehow, she managed to quell her demon as she fought. Walls were smashed through, and she barely evaded his blows. He raked at her, catching her in a place unprotected by her demon's carapace. The pain nearly stunned her, and she was slow to recover. However, she threw him against another wall, into the tiled-lined showers. It was almost cinematic, the damage they did to the room around them as they fought. Steam from broken pipes filled the room; Tetsumiya's face shone with sweat and water rolled in large droplets off the shiny black of her body.
And suddenly, it was over. She'd slipped through Tetsumiya's defense, skewering him on her claws. Triumphant, she watched the man die, feeling his last twitches as she pushed his body off her arm. The hate and rage faded. A death for a death. Darkness taken to balance the light he had murdered. She was bruised, hungry from spending her chi to heal during the fight. Once again, she fought down her demon as she bent to take what little chi the dojo-master had left.
The aftermath was brief. Yakuza agents from the court set out to hunt down what remained of Tetsumiya's students. The Thousand Ri Scouts were instructed to return to the Court of the White River. Tetsumiya's body was unceremoniously dumped into the trunk of the car Flaring Grin drove. They reunited with Shard at the court, but Zhizhu was not sure the Bone Flower was even cognizant of her surroundings.
Shard answered the questions of Yamabushi-sama, but offered no words of her own. Even after the uji was dismissed, Shard ignored them. Zhizhu followed her only long enough to assure her that Tetsumiya had suffered. Beyond that, there was nothing the Devil-Tiger could do for her uji-mate. Time would tell if she was so lost in her grief that the uji would be broken once again. Until then, Zhizhu was content to give the Song of Shadows the solitude she obviously wanted.
Zhizhu had never known love so heart-wrenchingly strong. She watched Shard walk towards the Bone Flower gardens, Flaring Grin trailing in her wake. For a moment, it was not regret or pity that she felt towards Shard, but a sharp stab of envy. What was such a bond like? What was it like to love someone so much? To feel that love returned to you? She ignored the condescension of her shadow soul. Weakness was besides the point. She felt she could understand the Laughing Rainbows a little more, if that level of passion was what they sought. And in the same moment, she also understood the Bone Flowers' desire to set such debilitating passion aside.
Was there no place in her existence for beauty and light? She thought of Sweet Swallow's Song, of the music that was so very much a part of her fellow Devil-Tiger. Zhizhu did not know how to pursue the nebulous desires of her wind soul. She only knew that the human part of her was stronger these days. Still, the path she walked was one of a devil on earth. After the fight with Tetsumiya, she knew that she should be more than just an even match against any mortal, even one of the dhampyr. It was time to see Terrible Thunder Talons and improve her ability to channel her demon.
While she trained, the Scouts returned to Anjiro. Flaring Grin was focused on taking over the yakuza family there. Zhizhu could see the importance of controlling them, especially after the Yedo yakuza family had shown up to the fight at the dojo. She did not, however, see what she could do to help his endeavor. If he needed someone killed, or tortured, so be it. Beyond that, he'd have to turn to the others. She was no politician, and her idea of diplomacy was to actually inform her victims that she had a gun to their head before she pulled the trigger.
Still, she would do what she could. There was just so much she needed to do. She wished to take a more active hand in the training of the infant devil. She looked forward to the time when she had a name with which to call him, rather than simply referring to him as the "infant devil." And of course there was Yi. She needed to return to him, to finish his training. She'd been much too sporadic, and she feared that she'd need to backtrack.
She needn't have worried. When she did return to Yi, she had a moment in which she just knew what to do that would push him over the edge. Almost lovingly, she plied her arts and was rewarded by his complete breakdown. He was her creature now, and he would serve her like dog. Her phone rang at one point, but she merely turned it off and tossed it onto her folded coat. Nothing would interrupt this moment of triumph. His screams were more beautiful than any music Sweet Swallow's Song could produce. Who needed love when she had hate as pure as this?
Thursday, July 19, 2007
a question of motives
Like a boulder pushed from the top of a great hill, events seemed to be crashing and rolling with increasing severity. First, the murders of the dhampyr--now, a gaki killed. Zhizhu leaned forward to make herself more aerodynamic on the motorcycle, the wind whipping her hair wildly. Shard had asked her to join the rest of the uji at the graveyard where Scarlet Seed had meet his end. The Tiger was not so sure that was where she was actually headed.
Why, she thought, would anyone be killing dhampyrs? The Sohei could be doing it, but would the Sohei bother? Now that Scarlet Seed had been killed, she could more readily imagine the Sohei being behind it. Shard's attachment to Kiku aside, the dhampyr were commonly seen by gaki as tools to be used or set aside. Perhaps the Sohei had been using the dhampyr as well, to get to Scarlet Seed. But why?
Why do you care? the demon laughed.
Because a threat capable of taking out Scarlet Seed is a threat to the entire court.
The demon laughed harder. Good one. Why do you really care?
Zhizhu pondered that question more seriously. I do not wish to see Kiku hurt. Or Shard.
Sentimental fool.
Shard is like her namesake. Fragile. A threat to Kiku has turned her hysterical. Should Kiku meet the same fate as her siblings, it is possible that Shard will come apart. Sentiment has little to do with it.
Liar.
My uji is in a tenuous place. Too many unknowns factor into the balance of this.
You should use Shard's weakness. She is unfit to be in your uji--now is the perfect time to remove her. That infant devil shows much more promise, especially since you are to have a hand in his training. Besides, the Scouts are now not the only uji lacking a fifth member. Play your cards right, and your position can be elevated.
Shard's intelligence is more than a match for your scheming, and to turn against her at this time would reflect poorly upon me. Your plotting will earn me nothing more than a well-deserved sepuku. Shard's flame has been burning steadily brighter. I will not be the one to extinguish that!
She pulled the bike over suddenly, pulling out her cell phone and punching in Flaring Grin's number.
Why, she thought, would anyone be killing dhampyrs? The Sohei could be doing it, but would the Sohei bother? Now that Scarlet Seed had been killed, she could more readily imagine the Sohei being behind it. Shard's attachment to Kiku aside, the dhampyr were commonly seen by gaki as tools to be used or set aside. Perhaps the Sohei had been using the dhampyr as well, to get to Scarlet Seed. But why?
Why do you care? the demon laughed.
Because a threat capable of taking out Scarlet Seed is a threat to the entire court.
The demon laughed harder. Good one. Why do you really care?
Zhizhu pondered that question more seriously. I do not wish to see Kiku hurt. Or Shard.
Sentimental fool.
Shard is like her namesake. Fragile. A threat to Kiku has turned her hysterical. Should Kiku meet the same fate as her siblings, it is possible that Shard will come apart. Sentiment has little to do with it.
Liar.
My uji is in a tenuous place. Too many unknowns factor into the balance of this.
You should use Shard's weakness. She is unfit to be in your uji--now is the perfect time to remove her. That infant devil shows much more promise, especially since you are to have a hand in his training. Besides, the Scouts are now not the only uji lacking a fifth member. Play your cards right, and your position can be elevated.
Shard's intelligence is more than a match for your scheming, and to turn against her at this time would reflect poorly upon me. Your plotting will earn me nothing more than a well-deserved sepuku. Shard's flame has been burning steadily brighter. I will not be the one to extinguish that!
She pulled the bike over suddenly, pulling out her cell phone and punching in Flaring Grin's number.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
silver screen memories
Zhizhu stood in Flaring Grin's mostly empty apartment; it showed more signs of habitation now. The Devil-Tiger wondered how much of that was because of Joko, even though she had been staying there only briefly. Zhizhu studied the mortal girl; since pledging not to harm to her, Joko had relaxed somewhat. She was listening, rapt, to Kiku's eloquent descriptions of the latest trends for the high end of society. She almost looked as if she hadn't just been told that the hells were real and the world contained more strange things than she'd ever dared dream.
In fact, Zhizhu could picture herself sitting there, entranced and smiling. She had been like that, once. Vibrant, and so alive. She found it difficult to grasp those memories, feeling as if her life before had happened to another person, and she had only watched it on a movie screen.
Why do you wish to dwell on such things? her demon whispered. They are weak spots, leaving you vulnerable. It is good to distance yourself from such petty nonsense. You have much more important things to ponder. Now... if the others show weakness over this girl... perhaps you can exploit that...
But Zhizhu had no wish to listen to her demon's plotting this night. Joko had triggered something in the Devil-Tiger. Not exactly compassion--although Zhizhu knew herself to not be so removed from that emotion as she let on. It was more of an awakening. Yes, her road led to wickedness... but she could not lose sight of that human part of her soul. She must ride her P'o... but she must not forget her Hun. If she lost that... she would be no better than the akuma she reviled.
With a small smile, Zhizhu turned her attention to Kiku. She was not human any longer--but perhaps she could recapture some small part of her Hun before it slipped out of her grasp completely.
In fact, Zhizhu could picture herself sitting there, entranced and smiling. She had been like that, once. Vibrant, and so alive. She found it difficult to grasp those memories, feeling as if her life before had happened to another person, and she had only watched it on a movie screen.
Why do you wish to dwell on such things? her demon whispered. They are weak spots, leaving you vulnerable. It is good to distance yourself from such petty nonsense. You have much more important things to ponder. Now... if the others show weakness over this girl... perhaps you can exploit that...
But Zhizhu had no wish to listen to her demon's plotting this night. Joko had triggered something in the Devil-Tiger. Not exactly compassion--although Zhizhu knew herself to not be so removed from that emotion as she let on. It was more of an awakening. Yes, her road led to wickedness... but she could not lose sight of that human part of her soul. She must ride her P'o... but she must not forget her Hun. If she lost that... she would be no better than the akuma she reviled.
With a small smile, Zhizhu turned her attention to Kiku. She was not human any longer--but perhaps she could recapture some small part of her Hun before it slipped out of her grasp completely.
Saturday, June 9, 2007
Thoughts while driving
The Devil-Tiger reached over and flipped shut her cell phone, leaving it on the dashboard. Shard’s words stung, not only because of the veiled reprimand. In her rush towards enlightenment, towards leaving her human life behind her, she had neglected her duties to her uji. Zhizhu was a solitary creature in her Second Breath, reluctant to open herself. But Shard was correct; had the uji needed her, she would have been beyond their reach.
She admitted, silently, that she needed to find a balance between her solitary leanings and the need to communicate with her uji. Things had gone well at Yi’s house. She allowed herself a brief, satisfied smile. But they may not have. Yi might have returned with others. Unknown multitudes of things might have gone wrong, and she would have been alone to face them. Doing so might be her preference, but she had agreed to be re-bound to the Thousand Li Scouts. She could not ignore them, nor exclude them so completely from her dealings. Their fates were bound.
After the report, she decided, when we return to Anjiro, I will speak to them. Reluctantly, she admitted that she must apologize as well. She glanced at the Hollow Reed in the passenger seat beside her. If Keeper could learn to use a cell phone, she mused, then I may yet learn to cooperate with my uji.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Blood and Flames
Zhizhu felt a grumbling resentment at Flaring Grin's brief admonishment for her actions. She refused to apologize for her actions. To do anything other than act when the moment had presented itself so perfectly--even to simply wait for her uji-mates--would be to deny her own dharma. Perhaps the consequences would not have been so chaotic, but she was beginning to have a taste for chaos. Her life had been so structured, so controlled. The Devil Tigers had the right of it--act without hesitation.
She may have been laying her trap, patiently spinning out threads like her namesake, but one strong wind could blow it all away. Nothing could be predicted, but consequences could be dealt with. Webs could be respun. What mattered was the man in her dark warehouse basement, and the corpses rotting in their homes.
************************
Yet she was part of an uji, and those bonds tugged at her. Her resentment grumbled on, but she was disquieted by much that had happened. Keeper's death was a blow to the uji; his state as a yulan-jin would bring yet more disgrace and ill luck. Shard's excessive penance puzzled and irritated the Devil Tiger--she obviously sought the pain to salve her own guilt, but had she learned anything from it? The Bone Flower did not act as if the seppuku had changed anything. But perhaps it was a lesson that would come in time. Zhizhu refused to believe that anyone could remain untouched by such an experience.
Days passed, and there was no sign of Keeper's return. Zhizhu knew very little of the yulan-jin, and no idea what to expect, only that Keeper would have different body. A handy trick, but from what she had heard, a trick which had too high a cost. Not knowing what to do about Keeper, she turned her energies to Hirata Nakamora.
She had learned the art of pain from her teachers at the Court, but this was the first time she'd put those skills to use on her own. She did not plan--she acted. Little hurts and large ones, torture both physical and mental. It did not have to be elaborate--she would have time to experiment and refine her techniques. She wanted him to beg, and he did. She wanted him shamed, and he was. After 7 days, when she finally allowed Hirata to die, she knew that he had been broken.
A new clarity seemed to blossom within her, and she felt more than ever the Howl of the Devil Tiger that lifted her soul towards the fire of enlightenment.
She may have been laying her trap, patiently spinning out threads like her namesake, but one strong wind could blow it all away. Nothing could be predicted, but consequences could be dealt with. Webs could be respun. What mattered was the man in her dark warehouse basement, and the corpses rotting in their homes.
************************
Yet she was part of an uji, and those bonds tugged at her. Her resentment grumbled on, but she was disquieted by much that had happened. Keeper's death was a blow to the uji; his state as a yulan-jin would bring yet more disgrace and ill luck. Shard's excessive penance puzzled and irritated the Devil Tiger--she obviously sought the pain to salve her own guilt, but had she learned anything from it? The Bone Flower did not act as if the seppuku had changed anything. But perhaps it was a lesson that would come in time. Zhizhu refused to believe that anyone could remain untouched by such an experience.
Days passed, and there was no sign of Keeper's return. Zhizhu knew very little of the yulan-jin, and no idea what to expect, only that Keeper would have different body. A handy trick, but from what she had heard, a trick which had too high a cost. Not knowing what to do about Keeper, she turned her energies to Hirata Nakamora.
She had learned the art of pain from her teachers at the Court, but this was the first time she'd put those skills to use on her own. She did not plan--she acted. Little hurts and large ones, torture both physical and mental. It did not have to be elaborate--she would have time to experiment and refine her techniques. She wanted him to beg, and he did. She wanted him shamed, and he was. After 7 days, when she finally allowed Hirata to die, she knew that he had been broken.
A new clarity seemed to blossom within her, and she felt more than ever the Howl of the Devil Tiger that lifted her soul towards the fire of enlightenment.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Smoke and Tears
Zhizhu was still uneasy around her uji; she found it difficult to talk to them about anything other than their duties to the Court or the business of the Peacock Fan. She allowed herself a moment of bitter amusement. In life, she had been sociable and charismatic. At least, she had been before her father and husband had destroyed that part of her.
She knew the others feared her more than a little. There was a uncomfortable joy in that. It gave her a measure of power over them, something she didn't consciously realize she needed. However, there was a part of her that still thought like a 17-year-old girl, wide-eyed and wondering and craving some kind of positive reinforcement. It was a small voice in the back of her mind, often lost in the bloody-minded rantings of her P'o.
Whenever she spoke to Unveiled Mirror Shard, that quiet voice became a little stronger. She allowed herself to remember happy things, smiled more and even laughed. It confused her, for she didn't think she actually liked the Bone Flower. Shard wallowed in her self-loathing, and clung stubbornly to her view as women as weak, helpless creatures with no will of their own. It often infuriated the Devil Tiger, while simultaneously spurring her to try various ways to prod her uji-mate into self-confidence.
Although, after talking Shard's P'o down from murdering the rest of their uji, Zhizhu did not prod so much. The girl's control over her demon was obviously tenuous--Zhizhu did not think her words had been so powerful. But then, she had spent the last two years under the tutelage of the Devil Tigers. She doubted that her view of what was too harsh would be shared by any of her uji-mates.
It annoyed her that the member of her uji she seemed to understand best was Flaring Grin. She despised him, for being a man, for being so like her father and her husband. And yet he showed flashes of incredible empathy. His plans were often sound. Yes, she felt compelled to point out the flaws in any plan laid before her, but she felt that he understood that it had ceased to be a personal vindictiveness that spurred her to disagreement.
She respected their nushi; Fujiko-san was a strong woman and had much of the elegance that Zhizhu felt she herself lacked. Keeper of Forgotten Temples was a carefully neutral creature, and Zhizhi had no strong feelings about him in any regard. He was not a threat to her, even though he had nearly won that stupid duel. It had been difficult to come out of that without losing face.
She doubted she'd ever really like any of her uji-mates. Friendship was something she'd left behind her. She understood that she was bound to them, that those bonds created the sense of loyalty and trust she felt. She would fight beside them willingly, even eagerly, and perform what tasks the Court laid before them. But she did not want to be close to them. She was a devil, a wicked creature mandated by Heaven to fight evil with evil. There was little room for friendship in that. Alliances, yes. Friendships, no.
She tried to herd her thoughts toward the project that had consumed so much of her time and energy lately. She felt she'd be ready to strike at the pornographers soon. She knew that her careful planning in some ways flaunted the tenet of acting without hesitation; however, she did not feel she was hesitating. She merely made sure each strand of her web was in place before striking. Reckless evil was the province of akuma. She must be magnificent in her wickedness, and magnificence was rarely the product of heedless action.
But her thoughts were muddled, and kept returning to the bits of information she'd been able to glean from the internet. Sayuki lived in Yokohama, she was married, and Zhizhu even had her phone number. Zhizhu wanted to call her--and then she wanted to burn the information from her mind. She didn't realize she was holding her cell phone she until felt her fingers restively caressing the little rubberized buttons. Scowling, she folded the phone and stowed it safely in her pocket.
She thought back to the recent conversation she'd had with Shard, and then to the Bone Flower's confession about Kiku. A part of her was intensely jealous. Shard had something that Zhizhu had never known, would probably never know. Softness and tenderness had no place in her existence. She knew she'd have to deal with Sayuki and the confusion that her old friend caused--she could not afford to be so distracted. But then, this was her koa, and now was the time to deal with such distractions.
She knew the others feared her more than a little. There was a uncomfortable joy in that. It gave her a measure of power over them, something she didn't consciously realize she needed. However, there was a part of her that still thought like a 17-year-old girl, wide-eyed and wondering and craving some kind of positive reinforcement. It was a small voice in the back of her mind, often lost in the bloody-minded rantings of her P'o.
Whenever she spoke to Unveiled Mirror Shard, that quiet voice became a little stronger. She allowed herself to remember happy things, smiled more and even laughed. It confused her, for she didn't think she actually liked the Bone Flower. Shard wallowed in her self-loathing, and clung stubbornly to her view as women as weak, helpless creatures with no will of their own. It often infuriated the Devil Tiger, while simultaneously spurring her to try various ways to prod her uji-mate into self-confidence.
Although, after talking Shard's P'o down from murdering the rest of their uji, Zhizhu did not prod so much. The girl's control over her demon was obviously tenuous--Zhizhu did not think her words had been so powerful. But then, she had spent the last two years under the tutelage of the Devil Tigers. She doubted that her view of what was too harsh would be shared by any of her uji-mates.
It annoyed her that the member of her uji she seemed to understand best was Flaring Grin. She despised him, for being a man, for being so like her father and her husband. And yet he showed flashes of incredible empathy. His plans were often sound. Yes, she felt compelled to point out the flaws in any plan laid before her, but she felt that he understood that it had ceased to be a personal vindictiveness that spurred her to disagreement.
She respected their nushi; Fujiko-san was a strong woman and had much of the elegance that Zhizhu felt she herself lacked. Keeper of Forgotten Temples was a carefully neutral creature, and Zhizhi had no strong feelings about him in any regard. He was not a threat to her, even though he had nearly won that stupid duel. It had been difficult to come out of that without losing face.
She doubted she'd ever really like any of her uji-mates. Friendship was something she'd left behind her. She understood that she was bound to them, that those bonds created the sense of loyalty and trust she felt. She would fight beside them willingly, even eagerly, and perform what tasks the Court laid before them. But she did not want to be close to them. She was a devil, a wicked creature mandated by Heaven to fight evil with evil. There was little room for friendship in that. Alliances, yes. Friendships, no.
She tried to herd her thoughts toward the project that had consumed so much of her time and energy lately. She felt she'd be ready to strike at the pornographers soon. She knew that her careful planning in some ways flaunted the tenet of acting without hesitation; however, she did not feel she was hesitating. She merely made sure each strand of her web was in place before striking. Reckless evil was the province of akuma. She must be magnificent in her wickedness, and magnificence was rarely the product of heedless action.
But her thoughts were muddled, and kept returning to the bits of information she'd been able to glean from the internet. Sayuki lived in Yokohama, she was married, and Zhizhu even had her phone number. Zhizhu wanted to call her--and then she wanted to burn the information from her mind. She didn't realize she was holding her cell phone she until felt her fingers restively caressing the little rubberized buttons. Scowling, she folded the phone and stowed it safely in her pocket.
She thought back to the recent conversation she'd had with Shard, and then to the Bone Flower's confession about Kiku. A part of her was intensely jealous. Shard had something that Zhizhu had never known, would probably never know. Softness and tenderness had no place in her existence. She knew she'd have to deal with Sayuki and the confusion that her old friend caused--she could not afford to be so distracted. But then, this was her koa, and now was the time to deal with such distractions.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
"Numbed with pain to unfeeling"
I am Zhizhu, though once I was known by the name of Nao Meixiu. Before I took the Second Breath--my unlife, my second chance. Someday, I will burn away all that remains of sad, helpless Meixiu. I will never be helpess again.
I should explain. After all, it was my life as Meixiu that sent me to hell, which empowered my P’o with the rage it needed to break free of the
I was born in British Hong Kong, the daughter of a businessman glutted on his own importance. Nao Feng, CEO of a small pharmaceutical company. My father was a staunch traditionalist in an ever-changing world, a man clinging to a crumbling pillar in the middle of a hurricane. Perhaps it’s understandable, the lengthsto which he’s gone to protect his delusions. Perhaps it’s all he has, but he will reap the harvest of suffering he has sown. In time, before my koa is done, he will taste true bitterness. I hope it clings to him in hell.
My childhood was a lonely one--my father was rarely home. For all his traditionalism, he flaunted the tradition of family. My mother was also absent, though for much different reasons. My mother was unwell, I was told a child. Her mind was fragile, and she could not live at home. I didn’t visit her often. She was a woman lost, her mind drowning in artificial dreams. If I’d only know the truth then… maybe things would have turned out differently.
I was allowed to go to school, for some degree of education had become desirable in a woman. Even my father had to admit that. I did well enough, for I have an inquisitive nature. But school held so much more than books and learning for me. It held friends. Social interaction. And best of all, exposure to things beyond
In high school, I met a girl named Sayuki. Her family was from
While we also giggled and sighed, Sayuki’s family was heavily involved in political activism. It was part of the reason they had come to
I didn’t tell my father this; I knew how furious he’d be. But that decision woke something in me, a streak of rebellion that had lain dormant for years. I‘d been a fractious child, before I learned fear of my father’s anger and displeasure. I found that I just didn’t care anymore. I was going to do what I wanted to do, damn the consequences.
He didn’t find out about my outings with Sayuki until we disappeared for an entire day. We’d often go out after school. While it was most often just to hang out, to sit in a mall restaurant and talk and laugh, there were times we went to student rallies at the local college. The more I learned, the more I wanted to change things. I knew that
The day my life began to end, Sayuki and I blew common sense a kiss goodbye and boarded a bus to the heart of
We went to a massive mall that filled several stories of a building and listened to American music. We tried on the latest fashions and had our photos taken in one of those curtained booths. I tucked my half of the photo sheet into a pocket, never realizing that it would be one of my most treasured possessions. We barely caught the last bus into the suburbs, returning home around
To say my father was furious would be an understatement. His face was purple with rage, and he slapped me so hard it threw me to the floor. I was in shock; I had not been struck since I was a child. He interrogated me, then forbid me to ever see Sayuki again. I shocked myself again at that point—I stood up for myself against my father. I think I took him off guard when I stood and screamed in his face that I’d see whoever I wanted to see. That Sayuki was my best friend and cared for me more than he ever could.
He threatened to take me out of school. That deflated my anger, and I meekly agreed to his terms while plotting ways around them. Sayuki and I of course continued to be friends, though furtively. How my father found out, I have no idea. This time, he did take me out of school.
I tried once to run away. I was certain that I could start a new life, away from my father and his strict brutality. After two cold nights sleeping in the bus station, I was picked up by the police and brought home. Then everything fell apart. I couldn’t understand why my days were passing in a blur. I ceased caring about anything. I could barely work up enough energy to be angry with my father.
When I realized my food was being drugged, I stopped eating. I tried to run away again. Again, I was brought home, but not before I was able to talk to Sayuki one last time. I told her what was happening; she was, of course, horrified. She promised to tell her parents and get me help.
Help didn’t come. Ling-shi, our maid, told me that Sayuki’s family had moved quite hastily back to Japan. My father, she said, had more influence than people knew. She never said “Triads,” but the word would have explained the fear in her eyes. My mother had been like me once, she said, wild of spirit. She too had rebelled against my father’s strictness. My father paid corrupt doctors to keep her in mental institutions. Ling-shi said the he'd have divorced her to find a more suitable wife, but she'd been the only heir to a modest fortune. Since she was "mentally unstable", he had complete control over the money.
I went to my father and begged him to stop. I promised him that I would be a perfect daughter. It shames me to remember pleading, and the glacial cold in his eyes as he watched me. He sneered at me, told me I’d already proven myself untrustworthy. He said I was as traitorous as my mother, and practically worthless as a daughter. Then he looked at me again, eyes flat and expressionless as a shark’s. It was lucky I was pretty, he said. He’d be able to find me a husband, after all. One who would be able to handle a treacherous girl like me.
I couldn’t keep starving myself, not matter how much I feared his words. I’d never thought much about actually getting married, and I certainly didn’t want to be married off to some stranger. But I had to eat, and to drink. I descended once more into that hazy existence. Months passed, and I became a Chinese citizen. I didn’t even notice.
My 18th birthday came and went, and then my father announced my engagement. My husband-to-be was a man named Wengyan Yi. Yi was a real estate developer, rising fast in his business and his wealth. He had bought up a number of properties before and just after the British gave the city back to the Chinese. Now, he was able to sell these properties at a ridiculous profit.
Yi was 15 years older than I, more interested in appearances than in emotions. He wanted a young, pretty, tractable wife to smile at his business partners and make him look good. Young and pretty I was, and my father assured Yi that I could be kept tractable. The marriage was arranged and performed quickly. I remember it faintly, like looking at the memory through a meter of murky water.
My husband was a ruthless man, both in his business affairs and marital. During the first year of our marriage, he would come to me nightly with sons on his mind. Perhaps the drugs inhibited my fertility, perhaps I was just barren, and perhaps he was simply shooting blanks. But I never got pregnant, and he eventually gave up. I don’t blame him—I wasn’t exactly passionate; the term “cold fish” could have originated with me.
Yi’s business took us to
Five years of my life had been stolen from me when the end came. In a way, it was merciful, the overdose. I never knew what was coming. It could have been an accident, but I tend to think Yi simply had no use for me anymore. In any case, it was a quiet death.
But I still woke in hell.
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