"...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.”

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.

"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?” Japan was not her native country, and she still did not have a very good handle on the intricacies of its culture. She knew enough to bow, to know who to call –san and who to call –sama. She thought –chan was a suffix that denoted affection, but was not sure. The Japanese had layers upon layers of etiquette, and she sometimes felt like a paper boat swept along a swift stream.

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.