Unfortunately, squeezing ten months of story time into 30kb
of story space proved inherently difficult and Chapter 8
reached the point where I felt it needed to be divided into
two sections. Here is Part 8a.
Draft version.
C&C is most welcome.
Disclaimer: Ranma 1/2 is the property of Rumiko Takahashi
and her publishers. I am merely using the characters for
the purpose of profit-free entertainment and make no claim
on them.
The following people have been kind enough to create a page
to host my fanfics, so please take a look:
Vincent Seifert:
http://www.csus.edu/indiv/s/seifertv/kagami/
Yoshiro_san: http://members.xoom.com/Yoshiro_san/mother/
David Pascal: http://www.davidpascal.com/smj/
You can contact me at: kagami@jeack.com.au
---
"Very nice," Shukumaru murmured to her dining companion.
He did not answer, having been silent for much of the
evening. But he made for a good listener, as were all the
dead.
The tender portion of the hiker was still fresh and
slightly salty. There was little fat, typical in the
Japanese, and years of constant exercise in the mountains
had firmed the flesh nicely. Shukumaru cracked the
thighbone and sucked out the rich marrow with relish. She
tossed the hollow remains to join the pile of loose broken
bones behind her.
Rashomon, deep in the Hiei Mountains, was a small village
and home to a minor legend: the infamous Demon of Rashomon.
That particular demon had been slain during the Muromachi
Period by a valiant samurai, but the region retained its
affinity for attracting demons of note. Rashomon was the
current domain of a noble demoness from a powerful and
influential bloodline - the Lady Ishiki, Shukumaru's mother.
Lady Ishiki maintained a moderately-sized villa near the
Falls of Rashomon and kept it staffed with a collection of
discreet and able demon servitors. The forest-covered
slopes formed a magnificent barrier against casual
intruders. The occasional solitary wanderer or hiker who
entered the wilds conveniently vanished without a causing a
great deal of uproar.
Apart from their usefulness as a hunting preserve, the
high forested mountains were also an ideal location for
training.
But her mother loved Rashomon primarily because of the
excellent food.
---
An Awakening of Demons
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic
By Kagami
Chapter 8a: Shallow Lives
---
"Dokkasou!"
A tree, vast and ancient, fell victim to Shukumaru's
poison claw attack. The trunk warped and smoked as she dug
her right claw deep into its wooden heart. She tensed and
snarled fiercely, ripping her hand from the smoking hole
and tearing out a large chunk of decaying woodpulp. The
tree shuddered as if in pain, creaking and groaning
hideously, before finally giving way and collapsing in a
thundering fall of leaves, branches, and flying wood chips.
She stared at the fallen trunk. Dead, she thought with
satisfaction, just as her enemies would be. Who, then, were
her enemies? Nearby clapping aroused Shukumaru from her
contemplation of the wooden corpse. She turned and bowed
toward her mother.
"Well done, Daughter," Lady Ishiki said.
"It was entirely due to your teaching, Mother," Shukumaru
replied. "The Toxic Flower Claw is a powerful means of
attack."
"It is only as powerful as the venom in your heart, and
for that, I congratulate you." The Lady Ishiki was a cat
demon of great power and her marriage to Yami-no-Tsume had
sealed a blood alliance between the Eastern Throne and
these borderlands between East and West. She had understood
perfectly what an arranged marriage entailed. Once each
season, she traveled to Tokyo and conjoined with her
husband in the hopes of producing male offspring: a ritual
that had resulted in Shukumaru.
"My thanks then, Mother."
"So, Shukumaru, it has been a week since you arrived at
Rashomon. What are your plans?" She was gracefully direct,
yet bloodlust shone in gray eyes that pierced the morning
gloom. At a banquet given to honour the Western ambassador,
a minor demon noble had once described Lady Ishiki as
cordially vicious; a description that had summed up her
personality rather well, actually, but since he had the
misfortune to be drunk at the time and had spoken far too
loudly, he had lived just long enough to realize how apt a
portrayal it had been.
"I suppose I must return to Tokyo. Father has commanded
it." Shukumaru wrapped all her fury and frustration into
her words. She frowned slightly, hearing the edge in her
voice, and slid another block into the wall around the sea
of stored anger. "Mother, why did you and Father name me
so? He barely sees me as little more than a bargaining
chip, to be traded away for concessions. Why name me as
'Perfect Destiny'?"
Lady Ishiki seemed reluctant to answer her query, the
first time that Shukumaru had ever seen her mother
hesitant. Finally, her mother shook her head regretfully
and said, "It was not my decision. Your father chose your
name when you were merely a curve here." She touched her
lower abdomen. "He expected a son, you see."
"I do see, Mother." It shouldn't have mattered to her, but
Shukumaru felt her very blood boil at the latest wound
tearing her spirit. Acidic venom dripped from her hand to
fall hissing on the soil. Calm, she needed to keep calm.
The blocks in her mind froze as she unleashed an icy,
howling wind from deep within. Her face smoothed into a
mask of cultivated serenity.
"Shukumaru, I--" Lady Ishiki broke off and frowned
slightly, reaching out with her senses into the surrounding
wild. Shukumaru also expanded her perception, and relaxed
as she recognized the hidden signature.
"Jakuten, reveal yourself," Shukumaru commanded.
Her personal servitor appeared with a pop of displaced
air. "Your pardon, Shukumaru-sama, I did not wish to
disturb your conversation with your mother." He turned
around and bowed deeply to the ruler of Rashomon. "Ishiki-
sama, pardon my intrusion."
Lady Ishiki merely nodded and did not deign to further
respond to one so far beneath her on the hierarchy of
demons. She adjusted her kimono and contrived to look bored
and uninterested.
Shukumaru glanced at her servitor. "Did you bring it?"
"Yes, Mistress," Jakuten responded. "The story is on the
fifteenth page, Shukumaru-sama." He presented her with a
copy of Asahi Shinbun. Shukumaru unfolded the Tokyo morning
newspaper and read the small article therein:
'High School Student Dies in Gas Explosion.
'Hikaru Gosunkugi, aged eighteen, perished last night
after an explosion in his apartment. The resultant fire was
kept confined by the quick actions of the Aoyama Fire
Department, and no other residents of the apartment complex
were injured. The high school student was believed to have
returned from the wedding of his older brother that very
night. His family was devastated by his sudden loss and
remains in seclusion. Fire officials and police suspect a
gas leak may have been the cause of the explosion. He was
respected by his peers and teachers as an excellent
student.'
So, that was Hikaru's life, summed up in a single
paragraph, Shukumaru thought. "What other news, Jakuten?"
"There is other news, Shukumaru-sama, but perhaps...
perhaps it would be better for you to see it for yourself,"
Jakuten added nervously.
Shukumaru frowned. Jakuten never vacillated in her
presence; he knew how unwise that could be. She could sense
the fear seeping from him like a quivering yellow fog.
Droplets of sweat beaded on his forehead and his hands
twitched uncontrollably. What news could be so fearsome
that Jakuten would risk her wrath rather than deliver it to
her? Her final spoken words of the morning were formally
addressed to Lady Ishiki.
"Mother, I believe I shall obey Yami-no-Tsume's command
and return to Tokyo."
---
"Haven't you heard?" the horse-headed oni asked. Guard
duty, especially at this side entrance to the apartment
complex headquarters of the Demon Lord of the East, was
unremittingly boring. Nothing seemed likely to relieve the
tedium of the night and the demon sought refuge in the
latest gossip.
"Hush yourself, idiot!" his bull-headed companion hissed
urgently. "Of course I have; everyone knows about it. But
it's not something you want to be talking about so loudly."
"Bah! What do I care? As if Yami-no-Tsume is ever around
to overhear us these days? Or rather Ansou, as he's calling
himself now. He can screw that little piece of fluff every
which way he wants, just so long as it keeps him out of my
mane." The oni chuckled at his own crude humour. "In fact,
the Ice Bitch herself will be royally pissed off at the
news. I'd love to see the sparks fly when she gets ba--
Urk!" A powerful yet perfectly dainty claw clamped down on
his thick throat, cutting off both his words and air.
"Indeed, so why don't you tell me yourself?" Shukumaru
asked in a voice that could have grated stone.
"Shukumaru-sama!" gasped the bull ogre. "Please, we meant
n... no... nothing. It was j... just talk," he stammered
out, blanching a fearful white. The horse-headed demon
gurgled his frantic agreement.
"So you both know the story?" At their hasty nods, she
murmured, "Good. Then there's no need for two of you, is
there?" With a casual move, Shukumaru ripped out the throat
of the horse ogre she was holding. Blood gushed out in a
frothing stream of crimson, showering his terrified
companion in gore. The corpse slumped to the ground. "Now
then," she said, licking at her red-stained hand, "Why
don't you begin?"
"Y... Yes, Shukumaru-sama," the surviving oni quavered,
dropping to all fours and performing a servile obeisance.
Blood droplets fell from his quivering body to join the
spreading pool on the floor. "I've heard it said that your
noble father is seeing someone at the moment. She takes up
all of his spare time and more besides. Yami-no-Tsume-sama
has hardly been around for the past four days."
"I see." Shukumaru laid a gentle hand on the demon's bowed
head and watched him crouch even lower. "And what is so
unusual about this? Even my mother knows of Father's
infidelities. Why is this news of such concern? Why is my
own personal servitor afraid of telling me?"
"Shukumaru-sama, please... the woman... she is a mortal
human!" The bull ogre winced as he felt sharp claws dig
into the flesh on top of his head. Trickles of blood welled
from the wounds to add to the gore covering him. "Shu...
Shukumaru-sama!" he cried out in panic, pleading for his
survival.
The unrelenting pressure suddenly disappeared and he
sagged in welcome relief. It was long seconds before he
mustered the courage to lift his head once again and look
around.
By then, Shukumaru had already vanished.
---
"Greetings, Raiha," Shukumaru whispered, watching the pale
blue wolf stiffen on his cushion next to the Eastern
Throne. This early in the morning, the audience room was
empty but for Raiha and a pair of kyubi-kitsune, guardians
of the court. It made for a perfect setting to dredge for
information.
"Shukumaru, it is good to see your return." Raiha nodded
his lupine head in careful welcome. The comment seemed
sincere enough to Shukumaru, but then the demonwolf had
always liked her since the early years of her childhood. As
a child, she had alternated every six months between Tokyo
and Rashomon, and when she had come to the city, it had
been Raiha who kept her company. Her father had never seen
the need to involve himself with raising a mere daughter,
and his presence had been lacking for the better part of
her three decades of existence: until now.
"Where is my father? I would have him know I have arrived
in accordance to his command." She kept her voice steady,
betraying no interest in his whereabouts, but it was a
difficult struggle. Ice, she reminded herself, was the
cornerstone of her new existence.
"Ah, you have just missed him then. He has left to pay a
visit to.... Well, let us simply say, a private visit, if
you will." Raiha looked momentarily uncomfortable, a brief
flash of vulpine distaste showing in his cerulean eyes.
"Oh? Some new foible of his?" Her tone was innocence
itself, hiding anger beneath a veneer of casual interest.
Raiha shrugged, showing calculated unconcern. "A matter of
little importance. He will return later; you may present
yourself to him then."
The Thunderbeast did not seem inclined to be forthcoming.
It was time for a direct attack. "Come, Raiha, you hardly
need to dissemble with me. Why not simply tell me about his
latest mistress? You know I'll learn it from another source
anyway. This way we shall both save time and demon lives,"
Shukumaru said, keeping a light smile fixed in place. "Now,
where is he?"
"You are your father's daughter," Raiha said at last,
reluctantly. A note of regret tinged his voice, and
Shukumaru was left unsure whether he meant it as
compliment, insult or warning. "Very well, then. You may
find him in Nerima."
---
The pale light of dawn was shading into the brighter glow
of late morning when Shukumaru came to a rest on the
rooftop of the house facing her intended destination. Her
father's trail had led to this location; all of her senses
confirmed it. She crouched down and began to weave a ward
to conceal her presence from both ordinary sight and her
father. It would never fully prevent the Demon Lord from
detecting her, but he might be distracted enough not to
notice.
Her shield was barely up when the front door opened. The
young woman who appeared was fairly attractive, Shukumaru
acknowledged; just out of her teenage years. She had pearly-
white skin, distinctive features, and long black hair that
curled ever so slightly. Still, those alone would hardly
have attracted her father. Only one thing would draw him
so, and Shukumaru remembered the overheard conversation
between him and the Old Woman. A son, that was what drew
him. The woman was laughing with warm amusement and delight
at something her father said as he followed her out from
the house.
"Ansou-san, I must thank you again for what you
accomplished on my behalf with the city council. Without
your help, I would never have known what to do. Why my
house might have been lost to those greedy contractors."
She flashed a bright smile at the man standing next to her.
"It would have torn my heart to see my family home torn
down for apartments. I am in your debt."
"Please, there's no need for further thanks, Saotome-san.
It was my pleasure to help you out." Yami-no-Tsume returned
the woman's smile, looking diabolically handsome in his
human guise. "But it would make me extremely happy if you
were to accept my invitation to lunch."
Shukumaru sighed at the obvious ploy; her father really
did lack originality. Undoubtedly, he had employed one of
the subsidiary companies to attempt a buy out of a heavily
mortgaged property. Then he could appear and save the day,
winning the woman's gratitude. How banal.
"Well.... All right, but you must let it be my treat,
Ansou-san."
Ansou smiled cheerfully. "Never let it be said that I am
not a modern man. It is a deal, Saotome-san."
"And please, call me Nodoka."
"Nodoka-san." Ansou made a caress of her name. "My name is
Makizoku. But call me Maki, all my friends do so."
Shukumaru tried not to feel sickened but failed. Morbid
humour and distaste turned her mind liquid, until she could
almost see the shimmering pulse of anger that threaten to
sweep over her at this mockery of her pain. What made it
worse was that her father seemed entirely sincere, smitten
no doubt by the prospect of finally acquiring a son - even
a half-breed one.
A shout distracted her from brooding. "Nodoka-chan! I'm
here! Let's go on our date!" It came from a young man who
pelted up the street and skidded to a halt before Nodoka
and Ansou. Thick black hair loosely flowed over faintly
chubby features. His body was slightly heavy-set, with the
strong muscles of a body-builder or a martial artist,
though still a little pudgy from teenage fat. Shukumaru
straightened her posture with some interest: he looked
fairly appetizing.
"But who's this old guy, No-chan?" the young man asked,
cheerfully rude. He pointed a finger at Ansou.
Nodoka looked somewhat torn between humour and annoyance.
She smiled faintly and politely introduced the two men.
"Makizoku Ansou, meet Genma Moroboshi."
"Charmed," Ansou said tightly, clearly nettled by the 'old
guy' comment.
"Hey there," replied Genma with a casual nod. "So let's
go, No-chan."
"Go where? I don't remember anything about a date,
Genchan." Nodoka looked confused and somewhat worried.
"What?! But I was sure I told you.... Lessee, came home
from practice, had dinner, talked to Soun, talked to Ataru,
went to bed-- Ooops. Ow!" Genma clutched his head where
Nodoka had clouted him. He rubbed at the sore spot and
contrived a dejected expression.
"Genma, you idiot! How am I suppose to know if you don't
bother to call?" Nodoka frowned with obvious exasperation.
"Well, I can't go with you today. This kind gentleman has
just asked me out for lunch and I agreed."
"Oh," Genma said forlornly. His eyes narrowed with the
sudden, belated realization that before him was another of
Nodoka's many suitors. He gave Ansou a quick once-over,
assessing his new rival closely and noticing the fine
quality clothes that oozed evident wealth. "I see."
Nodoka sighed. "We'll go out tomorrow, Genchan."
"Really? You promise?" At her brief nod, he threw up his
hands and shouted, "All right! And this time, No-chan, I
promise you I'll see what colour they are! Tomorrow then!"
Genma flashed a winning smile and raced off, waving
cheerily.
"Idiot! Better not let me catch you chasing other girls!"
Nodoka shouted after him, an embarrassed flush staining her
cheeks. She did not seem particularly displeased though.
"Hah! No chance of that!" Genma yelled back, before
disappearing around the corner.
"Who was that?" Ansou asked with a note of curiosity in
his voice. "A boyfriend?"
"Genchan's a good friend of mine. We've known each other
for years, since childhood. I guess you could call him a
boyfriend," Nodoka replied, sounding a bit uncertain.
"Anyway, shall we go, Maki-san?"
"Of course, Nodoka-san. Let us be off then." He held out
his hand courteously, and she gently took hold of it,
cheeks still pink-tinged and heightening her beauty. Ansou
drank in the sight and smiled broadly. They headed down the
street, walking hand-in-hand and step-in-step, and it was
all Shukumaru could do to avoid screaming out her fury at
their obvious happiness.
Shukumaru moved to followed them, but then she gasped, one
hand pressing against her temples and the other sinking to
the roof in partial support, as sudden pain sank its claws
deep into her mind. Deep in her mind, she had built a fine
structure of ice surrounding all the gathered grief and
pain and rage and hate. She had fed the darkness every
single incident and lovingly watched it grow, as she would
a child. It was a temple, an altar to the loss of Hikaru,
that his memory might never be forgotten. And it was slowly
cracking.
She had made it the wellspring of her new power, drawing
from the ice the heated venom necessary to fuel the Toxic
Flower Claw. But now her father's latest betrayal, his
obvious contempt for her, threatened to overwhelm the
carefully crafted blocks of crystalline ice.
No daughter of mine shall soil herself so.... Father, you
damned hypocrite!
Rage held the key to the temple, yet it worked both ways.
The ice blocks melted in the furious flare of anger, and
black hate leaked out to touch her. She gritted her teeth
and fought to restrain the leakage, to save the power she
had accumulated. It was needed, if she was to realize her
vision; she could not afford to waste it and so she
battled, walling in the old temple with new stones. Bit by
bit, she struggled to retrieve her sanity, and finally, she
locked the last block in place.
It was strong, her new bastion: clear walls around the
darkness, yet it would not contain her wrath forever.
Shukumaru pulled her right hand from where it had sunk into
the roof of the house during her mental battle. The
resultant hole hissed and spluttered as acid and poison ate
into the ceramic tiling. She contemplated the rising wisps
of smoke and knew she had little time left in which to
seize her destiny.
Her father had wasted his opportunity and heritage, but
she would not do the same. Shukumaru pressed her cheek
against the sun-warmed tiles and closed her eyes. Shall I
permit you your happiness, Father? When you stole mine?
No....
She would have vengeance.
---
"In all mortal men, there exists both beauty and hatred,"
the Old Woman intoned as Shukumaru slid into the seat
before her table. A unfurled scroll lay upon the table,
held down at each corner by a bleached-white skull, a
blackened iron knife, a bundle of blood-red candles, and a
dusty leather-bound tome.
"Whose writings are those?" Shukumaru asked civilly.
"The compiled sayings of a minor village priestess in the
Muromachi Period. She makes insightful comments, though of
limited scope. And what may I do for you today, Shukumaru-
sama?"
"Why, Obaba, did you recommend this mortal woman - this
human! - to my father?" she began.
"Because that is what the portents showed, Shukumaru-sama.
For three days I laboured on the rituals, recasting the
divinations and hoping for more favourable results. But
they never altered in any way: this woman is the one who
will give Yami-no-Tsume a son."
"A half-human son!" Shukumaru hissed. "What good will he
be?"
"That is beyond my concern... and yours," the Old Woman
pointed out. "Only Yami-no-Tsume may question his own path."
"Tell me, Obaba. Did you betray me to my father?"
Shukumaru did not need to refer to her last meeting with
the Old Woman to emphasize her point. It was clear enough.
"Not I, Shukumaru-sama. Not I. Your noble father
discovered it through another source," the Old Woman said
calmly. She continued to peer at the unrolled parchment
through a yellow crystal lens, and spoke without raising
her head. "I hear that Masakado's cardinal servant was
closeted with Yami-no-Tsume-sama a while back."
"Heizen-To! Yes!" Shukumaru hissed, eyes glittering. She
took a moment to calm down. "And what say you of our
alliance with the South, Obaba?"
"Why should I have an opinion, Shukumaru-sama? I'm merely
an unimportant servant of the Eastern Throne." The Old
Woman continued to scan the old pictograms on the scroll,
evidently finding the picture-writing fascinating.
"Have you not thought about it? How my father will
blithely sign over his throne to that purple slug while
hoping a half-human son will be able to secure his future?"
Shukumaru spoke evenly, yet her voice could not hide the
faintest note of outrage that soaked through the icy calm.
"I mean to change things before they become unalterable,
and so I require your support."
"Shukumaru-sama, shall I tell you a parable?" the Old
Woman asked, finally looking up to meet her gaze with half-
lidded eyes. Shukumaru shrugged her disinterest, but
nevertheless waved her acquiescence, bringing a gap-toothed
smile to the ancient crone's face. "Well then, I call it
'The King of Beauty':
"Once upon a time, there lived a young king in a faraway
land. The king was truly beautiful, fair of feature and
strong of limb. Many said no other, man or woman, could
compare and called him the fairest in all the land. His
parents, too, made much over him as he grew and indulged
him. When the king came to the throne, unexpectedly, and at
a youthful age, he immediately sought a bride to rule by
his side. He had only one condition: his queen should
surpass his beauty.
"Any who came forth and were judged to have failed in
comparison swiftly lost their lives to the headman's axe.
Yet the chance to become a queen drew many, and loud were
the wails of anguish as the prettiest ladies in the kingdom
and afar had the flame of their lives brutally snuffed out.
As the headman's axe grew covered in gore, the king became
restless and bored: it seemed none could compare to him.
"One day, a wanderer came to the court of the king and saw
the execution of six radiant young girls. When he received
word of the bridal challenge, he begged leave to speak to
the king. 'Oh, Great and Beautiful King,' he said, 'I have
journeyed far in my day and beheld many wonders in my
travels. If you seek a bride without compare, then know
that only the Princess of the Mountain is as fair of face
as your majesty.'
"Hearing this, the king became enchanted and joyous. A
great expedition was assembled and dispatched toward the
Land of the Mountain with the king at the forefront: no
other would see his bride-to-be beforehand. At last they
came to the Mountain and many in the royal party despaired
for the peak was a pinnacle that pierced the very heavens.
"'It cannot be done, your majesty!' they cried, seeing the
steep and ice-covered slopes. But the king was not
deterred. Desire flamed within his heart and he would
conquer the Mountain to gain his prize. Six men were called
forth to lead the king: the most skilled of mountaineers
with the agility of wild goats. Up they went, and the king
followed.
"The climb was a journey into the coldest hell. Rime
covered every exposed surface, and frost and ice dealt cold
deaths in their fashion. One by one, the six men fell,
slipping to their doom below, until only the king was left.
Still, he pressed on, for the flames of his soul kept him
alive and aware. Finally, he breached the stinging mists
and reached the peak of the Mountain.
"Staggering, half-dead, the king stumbled toward the small
log cabin that sat upon the peak. The door opened as he
hammered one frozen fist on the ice-coated wood. Eager eyes
feasted on the figure before him, then he sagged against
the door-frame in mute disbelief. Where was the coveted
beauty of his Princess? She was ugly! Hideous and wretched,
not even comparable to the many he had executed.
"Turning away in sick despair, he caught his reflection in
the smooth surface of the icy ground. A ruined face gazed
back at him. Wind-scoured cheeks, a nose swollen and ruddy,
cold blisters and scarring, frost-bitten lesions covered
the horrific reflection. With a terrible cry, he clutched
at his face to hide it from sight. What woman would now
choose to become his queen?
"He collapsed, sobbing, pride destroyed and much humbled.
The king felt a soft touch and turned to see the
questioning gaze of the Princess of the Mountain. She had
truly beautiful eyes, he thought numbly, and burst into
laughter. He clutched her hand to show he was not mocking
her, only himself, and slowly, she smiled at his antics.
And so the King of Beauty returned from the Mountain with
his bride and lived happily ever after."
The last spoken words fell into a deepening silence. The
Old Woman bowed her head and pressed her hands together to
signal the end of the tale.
Shukumaru stirred restlessly, eyes hooded in thought. The
faintest of frowns crossed her fine features. "Do I then
take it that you will not support me, Obaba?"
"I serve the Demon Lord of the East," the Old Woman
replied obliquely, before adding, "Whoever that might be."
Pragmatic, Shukumaru thought, but exactly what she had
expected. She could rely on the Old Woman to not betray her
until the outcome was clear. That state of near-neutrality
was all she had hoped to achieve with this meeting, and
Shukumaru was well satisfied as she rose to bid the crone
farewell. The strange story she had indulged the Old Woman
by listening faded swiftly from her memory.
The Obaba nodded, hid a small sigh, and returned to the
next line of her evening reading as Shukumaru exited the
room. "The wisdom of parables will be lost upon the
impatient."
Now that was a pertinent truth.
---
Her apartment was a bustle of light dusting and clattering
broomsticks. Shukumaru smiled slightly as she observed the
frenetic efforts of a half-dozen servant demons to reorder
her rooms. Jakuten had returned to oversee her needs. That
was excellent.
"Jakuten, accompany me," she commanded. The small, goggle-
eyed servitor snapped a few last orders to his staff and
hurried in her direction. Shukumaru left with him in tow as
she headed for the rooftop of the complex. It was quiet and
unused, and she erected her wards, few would be able to
perceive her presence, much less overhear their
conversation; especially with Yami-no-Tsume still away.
A gentle, late afternoon breeze gusted across the flat
roof as Shukumaru stepped outside, followed by Jakuten. Her
senses showed no other presence besides them, and she
invoked the seal to cover them in silence and stealth. "You
met with those I asked you to seek out then, Jakuten?"
"All but one, Mistress, and I will reach him before
tonight."
"Good. Have they agreed to meet with me tonight?"
"Yes, Shukumaru-sama. Most were eager and curious, sensing
a change in the wind. Niwatori-sama offered the use of his
ryokan and I conveyed the meeting place to the others. I
also inspected the ryokan myself and uncovered no spies or
hidden devices. Tonight, with your personal guard of oni in
place, it will be as safe as any."
"Well done, Jakuten." Shukumaru smiled at him, clearly
surprising the diminutive servant. "In lieu of your
service, I shall forgo your punishment for failing to relay
the news of my dear father's newest slut." Her voice was
cold and imbued with vicious loathing both toward her
father and the human woman, but Jakuten was clearly
gratified at his reprieve.
She would have to impress the uncertain ones tonight,
though most would welcome her overtures. It would be a
small dinner, and by the end of the evening, their
loyalties would be hers, and hers alone. No other outcome
was permissible.
"Jakuten, prepare my clothes for this evening. And
hurry... the future awaits."
---
They gathered in a private room at the ryokan owned by
Lord Niwatori, a powerful demon inflicted with an
unfortunate name. The hawk-headed oni lord was in his
natural form tonight as were the other guests, and his
powerful beak snapped up glistening red servings of raw
flesh and desperately flopping, still living, silver-scaled
fish. Niwatori was a proud demon who had overcome the
derogatory comments made concerning his name - usually by
killing those who commented - and achieved a glorious
reputation for brutality and cunning. Obviously he chafed
at his current rank and sought after greater power. He
would be loyal until she ceased to reward him.
Next to him was Hiwai Oushi, an ancient bull ogre. He had
survived for nearly three hundred years, a notable
achievement in a race not given to long life-spans.
Shukumaru had saved his life once in an encounter with an
oni sorceress, and Oushi was noted for three distinctive
features: his brute strength, lustful nature, and absolute
loyalty. She could trust him to follow her bidding and,
despite the fact she felt like killing him herself every
time his lewd eyes traveled over her body, his loyalty was
too valuable to dispose of so cavalierly.
On her left was Lord Honeshi, whom many called the Dancer
of Bones. His piercing eyes, protruding from a gaunt face,
were fixed on the chicken skeletons before him. Having
consumed all the flesh from both of the fresh fowl, he was
making them battle each other for amusement. Chicken bones
cracked and snapped as they clashed in naked fury, and the
sound was sweet to Shukumaru's ears. She hid a small smile,
knowing the Bone Dancer was hers to command as long as she
provided sufficient combat and bloodshed to suit his tastes.
Muketsu the Fleshless sat beside Honeshi, and the two of
them bore a close but superficial resemblance to each
other. Muketsu was a gaki, a ghoulish vampire who hungered
constantly for the flesh and blood of living beings. Since
the presence of human victims at this dinner might arouse
excessive concern, he sated his desires instead on live,
squawking chickens, and tossed their remains to Honeshi.
Shukumaru knew his hunger would only calm after feeding on
the soul of a human, so he would need to hunt after this
gathering. He was a powerful ally, strong and devoted. Like
Oushi, she had preserved his existence - in his case, from
a Devil Hunter - and, in return, he had bound himself to
her spirit.
Further down, four kitsune fed on small pigeons. One had a
crow on his shoulder that cawed its laughter at the demise
of his avian cousins. They were Shukumaru's lieutenants,
commanding her horde of minor oni and directing the birth
of more of the evil ogres. Nameless and unranked, for now,
they sat with quiet enjoyment, welcoming the occasion to
sit with demons of higher stature. Her plans would give
them the chance to advance their rank or fall in battle,
and that opportunity contented them well enough.
On the opposite side of the table was a trio of spider
demons. Brothers, one and all, they took their names and
powers from the elements of nature. Hikumo commanded flame
ghosts to his bidding, Mizukumo's fangs injected a deadly
poison as virulent as the venom in her Toxic Flower Claw,
and Chikumo invaded the dreams of the sleeping. All three
had agreed to serve her for a chance of revenge against the
hated South, where their fourth brother had perished.
These few she had gathered to her banner, and more besides
would flock around when she began her campaign. Father, you
have overstepped your bounds and sown the seeds of your
downfall. No Demon Lord can afford to appear distracted
from the concerns of the Throne. After all, someone might
just decide to steal it away from under your nose.
It was time, and past time, to claim all that was
rightfully hers. She raised her glass of wine high into the
air and admired the sparkling red vintage that so resembled
blood.
"To change!" Shukumaru toasted.
---
Author's Notes:
1) 'Ishiki' - means 'awareness' or 'consciousness'.
2) 'Muromachi Period' - the Warring States Period or
Feudal Japan; setting for much of Inu-Yasha.
3) 'Asahi Shinbun' - literally 'morning sun newspaper'.
4) 'ryokan' - a Japanese inn.
5) 'Niwatori' - translates as 'chicken'.
6) 'Honeshi' - means 'bone death'.
7) 'Muketsu' - literally 'bloodless'; also has the
implication of 'without blood or killing'.
8) 'Hikumo' - translates as 'fire spider'