This chapter is going to be a lot shorter than usual.
There's a reason for that; I think you'll understand
why after you read it.
WARNING!! This chapter of Hidden Fires contains
GRAPHIC descriptions of child abuse. This may also be
offensive to some people. Reader discretion is
advised; if you're under about 15, then you don't need
to read this, either.
People who know Japanese are going to know *exactly*
what's going to happen. I'll translate the title in
the Author's Notes at the end.
And here we go...
*~* Hidden Fires *~*
Chapter 4: Okasu: Muzai ja arimasen deshita
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"I will be your father figure
Put your tiny hand in mine
I will be your teacher, preacher,
Anything you have in mind . . . ."
-George Michael,
"Father Figure"
"Just lay your head back on the ground
And let your hair fall all around me
Offer up your best defense
But this is the end
This is the end of the innocence . . . ."
-Don Henley,
"End of the Innocence"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Momiji bit back a scream as a brilliant flash of
lighning lit up the night sky. "I hate storms," she
whimpered as the following thunder shook the windows.
The only light in the room came from the monitors
clustered around Kusanagi's bed; Matsudaira had hooked
up several portable generators to the equpment due to
the area's blackout. "I've got a flashlight," she told
herself, keeping a death grip on the tool while
holding the young man's hand for comfort. "It'll be
okay- I hope . . . ."
Something made a soft noise in front of her. She
turned the flashlight on and waved it around the room.
The clock on the far wall was sitting dead at 2:00
from the power shortage; under it, a mini
refridgerator was slowly dripping water on the floor.
"It's just the freezer," she sighed in relief.
The young woman sat the flashlight down so that
it shone on the ceiling, providing the room with a
faint glow. "There, that's much better," she said to
herself before turning back to her contemplation of
the man before her. Momiji reached out and brushed his
hair back from his forehead; his skin was growing
feverishly hot again. "What's wrong, Kusanagi? Why
aren't you getting well?"
The thunder rumbled again, followed by a jagged
streak of lightning. Momiji picked up his ragged
trenchcoat from the floor and slipped it on before
continuing her quiet vigil.
*~* *~* *~*
The infiltration of the government by the Aragami
was proceeding smoothly; and as long as Orochi was
pleased, Kusanagi was spared his master's wrath. He
spent most of his time watching the Kushinada as
always, but now Orochi had entrusted him as a
messenger between itself and one of his main
infiltrators. The added duties left him little time
for anything besides a quick nap once a week, but he
didn't mind; he worked harder than ever to prove
himself worthy of his assignment.
The main contact Kusanagi met with was an Aragami
who had assumed the name of Akuyou Fushi. Whether he
was human or a clone wasn't known, but he fit in
perfectly with human norms and behaviors. Orochi had
stationed him within the Ministry of Defense as a
top-level assistant to the Director; this position
frequently brought him into contact with most
information pertaining to the activities of the TAC.
Kusanagi couldn't understand anything about the odd
sheets full of symbols that he shuttled between Akuyou
and his master, except that Orochi had deemed the
information of top priority.
The boy leapt from windowsill to windowsill of
the Diet building, taking care to stay in the shadows.
This was the one duty he actually enjoyed doing. He
had been incredibly shy during his first meeting with
Akuyou, but the older man's warm personality and
quirky sense of humor had somehow won him over. Akuyou
was everything Orochi was not; he never shouted when
he was angry, and he always treated Kusanagi as
something of an equal. And he had never hit him.
Never.
Those next few times they had met, Akuyou had
something for him in his office; more often than not,
it was some type of sweet. Once, however, after Orochi
had beaten him for forgetting to address him properly
(or as properly as the demon had wanted at the time),
the man had given him a small stuffed animal. He had
no idea what to *do* with it, but the gesture warmed
him inside nonetheless. And no matter how busy he was,
Akuyou was always willing to listen to him.
Occasionally, he would let him sit in his lap and tell
him stories of the oddities of human nature while the
boy played with the items on his desk.
Kusanagi, in his most private fantasies, often
imagined this strange man as being his real father.
Why not? He was the only person in the world who had
showed him any level of kindness. It didn't matter
that he was occasionally uncomfortable with Akuyou's
persistent patting on the back, or the way he held him
too tight on his lap; he felt relaxed and carefree in
the other's presence. Just knowing that *someone*
cared about how he felt was more than enough.
The young boy finally landed painfully on a
ledge. Orochi hadn't been too happy with the last few
reports, and had taken his frustrations out on him.
The jeans he wore rubbed agonizingly against the raw
welts on the back of his legs; and the healing scrapes
on his back still ached when he overextended himself.
He glanced around to make sure that no one was
watching, then rapped three times on Akuyou's window.
The older man ambled over to the window and
opened it, a wide smile on his face. "You've come for
another report, eh?" he asked as Kusanagi climbed
inside.
"Yeah," he said with a nod. "He said that you'd
have a- a crystal or something for him."
"Ah, the ceramic crystals. I'll get them in a
moment; it won't hurt Orochi to wait a bit, will it?"
He stepped over to his desk; picking up the cobalt
paperweight, he began idly tossing it his hands. "Why
don't you go ahead and sit down for a bit, take a
break. You can keep me company for a while."
The boy glanced down at the floor. "I can't," he
said softly.
Akuyou raised an eyebrow, a hurt expression on
his face. "I thought you'd *want* to spent some time
with your old friend, but-"
"No, it's not that!" he exclaimed, worried. "It
just hurts- when I sit down or-"
The older man motioned him closer and pulled the
boy's T-shirt up. "Orochi certainly did a number on
you, eh?" He ran a hand over the healing scrapes.
"These seem to be healing all right. Where else did
you get hit? No, let me guess," and he ran a hand
slowly down the back of one leg, making him stiffen in
pain. "Just as I thought. Why don't you shuck off your
jeans there, and I'll clean out the wounds. You don't
want them to get infected, do you?"
Kusanagi glanced at his jeans, then, with a
shrug, slid them off. Behind him, Akuyou whistled.
"You've got some nasty cuts there, Mamoru," he said,
opening the kit and pulling out an iodine bottle. "Now
hold still; this is going to sting like hell."
He stood rigidly as the older man began to slowly
wash out each cut and scrape, the hiss of breathing
through his clenched teeth being the only sign of pain
he would show. It seemed to take an eternity; he
seemed to take longer to finish the higher up the
child's legs he went. "There," and the adult's voice
was a bit husky, "that takes care of that. Feeling
better?"
"Not really-" He cringed. "I'm sorry, Akuyou, I
mean-"
The older man laughed. "No, I know how much that
stuff burns. It'll fade in a few minutes." He stared
at the boy thoughtfully for a few seconds, then put a
fatherly hand on his shoulder. "You know, Mamoru, I'm
really glad you came today. I have something I want to
show you."
"Really? What?" The child's eyes were alight with
anticipation.
He seemed to take his time in answering. "It's a
game, a *special* game for just the two of us, and no
one else." He smiled down at him, a predatory glint in
his eye. "You do want to do this with me, don't you?"
Kusanagi nodded, a little confused by his
friend's sudden mood swing. "You don't know how much
that means to me," Akuyou said, gently pushing him up
to his overstuffed chair. "Just stand there," he
warned. "Just be very still and then we'll begin."
There was the rustle of fabric behind him, then
the older man's large hands cupped the child around
the waist. He began squirming nervously. "Akuyou, I- I
don't-"
"Shhh . . . it's going to be all right," he
promised, slipping his hands down further. "Just be
still-"
It was if someone had thrust a sword into his
lower stomach. Kusanagi tried to scream, but one large
hand clamped over his mouth. "It'll be over soon," the
adult crooned, ignoring the boy's muffled cries as he
began rocking back and forth. "It'll be all right . .
. ."
Orochi finally found his young protege huddled in
the corner of the alley beside the Ministry of
Defense. ^Kusanagi?^ it hissed. ^Where are the ceramic
crystals?^
There was no answer. The Aragami reached out with
one tentacle and slapped him; he did not even flinch.
It slithered in further until it was almost eye to eye
with the boy, surveying every detail of the corner he
sat in. Kusanagi was curled up in nothing but the
ragged remains of a T-shirt; a small puddle of blood
and fluids had collected under him. As it watched, he
whimpered slightly and tried to back up further into
the corner.
It struck him again, trying to get a response.
Slowly, he lifted his bleak, tear-streaked face up
towards his master; utter shame clouded his eyes.
Orochi stared at him long and hard, then finally
spoke. ^If you are so weak that you cannot defend
yourself against a mere *human*,^ and its voice
dripped with contempt, "then you have no one to blame
but yourself." It then turned away in disgust, slowly
melting back into the shadows.
Kusanagi stared out at the bleak alley; as soon
as he knew Orochi had left, he wrapped his arms around
his knees and began to tremble uncontrollably. "My
fault," he whispered in a tremulous voice, a single
tear running down his cheek. "It's all my fault . . .
."
*~* *~* *~*
Murakumo casually dropped his latest 'recruit' to
the floor of the abandoned warehouse. Five slovenly
drunks off the streets, they all possessed the low
brain capacity and heightened strength that he needed.
He stood over them as they lay unconscious; reaching
into a pocket of his jacket, he withdrew five red
mitamas. His blue mitamas began glowing as he focused
his energy on the souls in his hand. Just as the light
threatened to blind him, he lashed out and fused the
mitamas into each man's throat. "Go forth," he
commanded as his newly-made slaves began to pick
themselves up off the floor. "Go out and bring to me
the other Kushinada!"
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Author's Notes: For those who are japanese impaired,
'okasu' is 'to rape/violate' and 'muzai' is innocence
('muzai ja arimasen deshita' is something like 'no
longer innocent... I think. I'm not all that great at
conjugation =^_^;=).
I never initially meant for this story to go to these
extremes, but, well, it seemed to have a mind of it's
own; and once the idea was born, I couldn't get rid of
it. it became somthing of a natural flow for the fic.
I'm willing to hear anything on this story, up to and
including flames. I have nothing to hide; and if I can
make people a little more aware of the problem of chil
abuse/molestation, then I've done my job.
Jess, the LilTigre =;_;=
===
What? You expected something witty and original here? You're kidding, right?
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