Chapter 5: Missing
Winter was light, save for the mist of frozen breath that rose above
the streets of Tokyo. The night was young but it wouldn't last.
Youth never does.
But to the woman who was Fuu Hououji, it was hers for the taking.
As she stood watch over the unsuspecting populace, she thought of how
much longer they had to live--and how utterly meaningless their lives would
be in the days to come. The blade she grasped in her left hand held power--
power that rightfully belonged to her--that she would use as she saw fit:
To lay waste to the masses as if they were struck by a swift, silent
and invisible plague.
For tonight, the Dark Wind of Death has been reborn in this world.
Kaoru Shidou had much to do and little time to do it.
Despite help from her youngest children, she still found it necessary
to do the holiday cooking herself. There was something a mother's love added
to the mix that simply could not be replaced.
She was not quite as young as she used to be, but to her credit, she
was healthier--and better-looking--than most women ten years her junior.
Work was still making its only slightly unreasonable demands on her
time even as the snow promised to blanket the city in white. The trains ran
like clockwork, a regularity she wished had always been present in her life.
She had been mother and father both to her children for nearly a
decade and a half. She thought she had put her husband behind her.
She was mistaken.
For tonight, she saw his face and could think only of hate.
"How dare you."
The object of her derision stood silently aware of her presence. He
had hoped for a better homecoming, but that was not to be.
"Okaasama, what's the matter? Aren't you glad he's home?" asked
Kakeru.
"Kakeru, Hikaru--go into the next room. Your father and I have a
matter that needs to be discussed in private."
Hikaru felt uncomfortably relieved at the chance to get away from her
father's presence. Her mother never acted this way before--what had gone on
fourteen years ago when Keisuke Shidou left his family?
As the door slid shut, the estranged pair attempted dialogue:
"Kaoru, I--"
"Say nothing--that's what you are. What gives you the right to
return? What you took from me, my family--even your own daughter!"
Her abrupt silence signalled him to speak.
"It is in the past," he tried to say with conviction.
"And the past has now come back to haunt this house." She stared
down into his hollow eyes and saw his sullnness. "State your business here
and begone."
"I've come to give it back--that which belonged to your family. What
now rightfully belongs to Hikaru."
"Hasn't she suffered enough!"
He blinked hard and saw her calm demeanor dissolve into twisted fury.
"That sword was meant to be passed on to--"
"It is time." Keisuke said no more and saw that she understood. "We
wed not out of any great love for one another, but I hoped you would not be
so bitter towards me. There are greater forces at work that must be dealt
with. My crimes are of no consequence at this point."
"So, the Fuuma has awakened," she noted.
"I'm certain. Isn't that what _you_ needed me for--to inform you of
such things?"
"I'm well aware of the reasons we entered wedlock. My father taught
you well, Keisuke. It doesn't matter if you are my husband--you're nothing
more than an instrument in the greater scheme of things--as am I," she wept
haltingly, punctuating each sob with regret no mother should ever feel.
For the moment, her anger subsided. What he did to their daughter
once before, she must now do herself.
She silently prayed for forgiveness.
Keisuke Takada was an ordinary boy with an extraordinary gift. He
could sense spirits of the departed--and "see" what they had seen in life.
This gift was not always welcome.
The merest touch of something--_anything_--that belonged to one who
had just passed on would flood his mind with that soul's memories. In time
he learned to control his "gift," but not before it was an urban legend
people _knew_ to be true.
Kaoru Shidou had his eye on him the moment she heard of it. She was
a proud girl who cherished her skill with a sword more than the affections
of any man save her father. An untouchable goddess in a prestigious high
school.
"Hey, Takada-kun," she called one day, pulling him by his lapels
into an alley. "Come over to my house. My father would like you to put on
a demonstration."
"What kind of 'demonstration' did you have in mind, Shidou?" he
stammered.
She looked at him as if he were mentally impaired. She resembled
a ruffian girl one might find in cinema, save that she was far less
forgiving.
"Don't be coy, Takada. Show him your _talent_. I'm sure he would
take you on as a student if you did."
To be a student of Takeru Shidou was considered quite an honor in
those days, when warrior's blood still commanded a high degree of respect.
"But why?"
"Don't ask. You'll see when you get there."
With no further questions asked, he followed her like a stray dog.
To his surprise, the "old master" was a rather friendly man, if a
bit strict. Not at all what he expected from Kaoru's attitude.
"Please don't misunderstand. Once you are a student of mine, I
will be every bit as unrelenting on you as I was with my daughter."
He looked harmless enough, yet Keisuke knew that he was serious.
"Shall we begin, then?" the elder Shidou asked as he brought out an
antique sword. "Legend has it that this sword holds the power of Heaven."
Young Takada took it that this was no jest as he _felt_ something
not of this world about the blade's composition, before he even layed a
finger on it.
"May I? Touch it, that is, sir," he requested meekly. Kaoru
looked at him with an expression of equal parts fascination, condescension
and pity.
{How can he be of _any_ use to this family?} she wondered.
"Of course. That's why you're here. But take care not to unsheath
it. Only it's true master can do that--sad to say, it is not I."
{But one of your descendants will be, Father.}
Keisuke felt the lacquered scabbard seethe with living energy. The
hilt was a golden amber he had never seen before--or since. The last to
wield this blade in battle was a samurai greater than any before him--or
since.
The sword had not been drawn for 400 years but he knew underneath
it's sheath it still gleemed bright as the day it was forged in blood and
fire. It sparkled with electric radiance that could only be sealed in
lacquered oak laden with wards and inscriptions--a barrier meant to protect
the unwary as well as the sword itself.
"What is it?"
Takeru was pleased to see that Keisuke had sensed all that he was
supposed to--perhaps even more.
"That is the most prized possession of this house. Until you are
a part of this family, I can say no more."
Kaoru was expecting this. It was not exactly the most elegant of
proposals, but even Keisuke Takada could see the benefits of such an
arrangement, for himself and his family.
"I can see you are amenable to carrying on my family's name. You
will find Kaoru to be the perfect wife, in all respects. But make no
mistake: she is my flesh and blood and you are not."
A gifted heir for a family of means. A fair bargain.
If only youth had the wisdom of age.
The old Shidou household was no more. It was destroyed in a fire,
soon after Kaoru and Keisuke wed.
How fortunate, then, that he was a carpenter. His true calling let
him provide his bride with a home she was used to, equipped with it's own
dojo. She could almost feel the presence of her father who had perished
while trying to rescue his precious blades from the relentless flame.
Miraculously, though not unexpectedly, one sword remained unscathed,
scabbard and all. In fact, it looked even _better_ than before the fire
had engulfed it, as if it was being cleaned of human imperfections that had
tainted it through the ages--if there were any to begin with, that is.
"To tell you the truth, I've missed you. Even with all the hate I
had, I still missed you. Perhaps I had even come to love you, before you
went away in shame."
Keisuke Shidou was moved by his wife's tears. He had always loved
her from afar, even after being wed--and for the first time, he felt like
he could approach her, as any man would his spouse.
Hot tea cooled as they discussed what was to come.
What was to become of their only daughter.
Johann Chua -- HP: http://www.geocities.com/fuuma_1999/
CLAMP Fan Fiction: http://members.xoom.com/fuuma_monou/clampfix5.0/
"Many strange things are done in the name of love. People drink poison,
hurl themselves off tall buildings, get expensive implants and commit
murder, among other acts. These may strike the casual observer as insane,
but to the person in love, they make perfect sense." --Jessica Zafra