"...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.

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.

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.

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.

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.