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.