.
He didn't get home until the sun was setting in the west. The kit went around to the back door, slipping unnoticed through the kitchens and up to the room he shared with his twin. Shiyo was lying on her pallet, reading. She looked up when he came in.
"So you're finally back. Papa was really worried for some reason." She flicked an ear at him, eying his wool-wrapped bundle with interest. He placed it next to his pallet and lie down, closing his eyes.
"Papa was worried?"
"Hai. He sent out Jion and Aijou to look for you. They came back about an hour ago, and Papa was really upset that they hadn't found you."
"Oh."
He heard her shifting on her pallet. "Kensaku left this afternoon."
He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at her. "Where'd he go?" He was proud his voice trembled only a little.
Shiyo met his eyes, her own going wide with amusement. "I dunno. But he told Papa he wasn't coming back for a while."
He closed his eyes, sighing with relief. A moment later Shiyo curled up next to him, licking his cheek while one hand stroked his hair. He put one arm around her, burying his face against her neck. Eventually Shiyo began to sob.
"I hate you, you know. They all love you because you're beautiful, but I hate you because you are."
He nuzzled her affectionately. "I know. But I love you anyway." He sighed heavily. "Just like 'Kaasama.."
She snorted loudly. "Oh, brother, you don't remember anything about her.. we were too young." she scoffed. "It's just like you to make something like that up."
"I do too remember!" he protested. "I remember she was dark as a crow, and she never loved us.. and she tried to kill me!" He nodded his head empathetically. "She said I was cursed."
Shiyo propped herself up on one elbow to look down at him. "What else do you remember?"
He closed his eyes and concentrated on bringing forth the memories. "I remember she cried a lot, and she was a slave... and that Papa killed her."
Shiyo stetched and yawned, looking sleepy. "Okay, so maybe you do remember." she conceded with a frown. "That doesn't mean anything." She curled around him. "Now go to sleep."
The two siblings cuddled together for the rest of the night, neither loving nor hating each other, simply being.
He was tossed back onto the bed, then the youkai was on top of him, ripping off his clothing. He was rough, and the kit feared it would never end. But his client eventually found release, and collapsed atop him, panting.
The little Youko squirmed out from underneath him, lashing his tail in irritation. He was bleeding in several places. Licking blood off his arm, the kit dropped off the bed. He recalled Junko telling him there were rolls of bandages under it.
He got onto his knees and crawled under. Sure enough, there was a wooden chest, and in it bandages. Looking at them, he felt a pang of grief: his poor, dear, delicate, dead sister had deserved better than an honorless death at the hands of that bastard Kensaku. But life went on. And that youkai was paying by the hour.
He clumsily wrapped up every wound that could be bandaged, then climbed back up onto the bed. "Raizen-san?"
The pale-haired youkai gazed dolefully at him. There were tear stains on his cheeks, and more tears threatened to spill from his eyes. He extended a trembling hand to touch the kit's cheek.
"I'm so sorry." He pulled the boy into his arms, rocking gently. One trembling hand softly explored each wound he'd given the kit. "Ah, gods, what a fool I am. You poor baby."
The kit leaned against his chest. "Its.. okay, Raizen-san. I'm fine, see?" He held up his arm, which had stopped bleeding. "No harm done."
"No harm.." Raizen's gaze was suddenly piercing. "By all the gods.. no harm, indeed! You're just a baby!" He released the kit, all but shoving him away. "Ye gods, I really am a cradle robber!"
The kit frowned. "I'm not a baby!" he retorted defensively.
Raizen just stared sorrowfully at him. "Oh, you are.." He buried his face in his hands. "Forgive me, little one. My heart is heavy with grief, and I fear I haven't been thinking right." The kit opened his mouth to tell him it was quite all right, and please don't say anymore, I don't really care, but Raizen plowed on. "I've just recently returned from the Ningenkai, you see. There was this ningen woman.. ah, gods, she was beautiful. A truly remarkable woman-" And on and on.
He surpressed a yawn. Raizen's tale might have even been interesting, had he talked more about the Ningenkai itself instead of some ningen wench.
"-so I've vowed never to eat flesh again. And someday, all of the Makai will be banned from doing so." He nodded firmly, then reached out to lightly stroke the kit's hair. His voice was suddenly very soft. "A someday, there'll be laws to keep children out of places like this."
The little Youko shook his head slowly. "It's time for you to go, Raizen-san."
Raizen stood, collecting his clothing that had been strewn carelessly every-which-way in the heat of his passion. Once fully clothed, he stood for a moment, just staring at the kit. The boy began to shift uneasily.
"You don't have to take this, you know." he said abruptly. The kit jumped. "It's not like you're a slave or anything. You can chose to leave anytime you wish." This wisdom imparted upon the impressionable young Youko, Raizen turned and left. But his words remained with the kit for a good three months. And then they hit home.
It was hot and stuffy under the covers, making the reek of alcohol seem even worse. The kit squirmed out of his father's arms and clawed his way out of the nest of blankets, gasping for fresh air. A glance at his father's slack face assured the kit that he wouldn't wake from his drunken stupor til morning.
He eyed the bottles on his father's nightstand distastefully; one sip of the stuff had curdled his tongue. Nothing had tasted good for hours afterward. He took was bottle and gave it an experimental shake. As with most the bottles, only the dregs remained. Two contained a little more, and one was half full. There were seven bottles in all.
"You can leave anytime you wish."
He gave the bottles a considering look. Glanced back to his father, then back to the bottles. Another glance, this one to the oil lamp sitting a safe distance from the alcohol.
He carefully crawled to where his cloths had fallen. He didn't think his father would wake up, but it was better to be safe than sorry. He dressed as quickly and as quietly as possible.
He reached for the oil lamp, then paused, his hand hovering next to the half full bottle. He wavered, then grabbed the bottle. He trotted back to the bed and, wrinkling his nose in disgust, poured the vile liquid on and around his father. May you burn in the nasty stuff, Papa.
Now he grabbed the lamp and made his way to the door. He pushed it opened then paused, half turning back to his father. He could quite easily make out the unconscious Youko, from his slack jaw to the outlines of his feet under the blankets. Disgust bubbled in him, and anger with it. What the hell was wrong with that drunken bastard? Didn't he care at all about how he looked to his own son? Of course he doesn't, whispered an insidious voice in his head. He doesn't care at all about you.. only the money you make him.
Enraged, unable to think anymore, he drew back his arm and with a shriek flung the oil lamp with all his might. Anger gave him strength, and the lamp crashed against the wall above his father, shattering and spilling glass, fire, and oil alike onto the drunken sod. The alcohol the kit had poured on him, combined with the large amounts of the stuff he had consumed, caused him to light up like a fire cracker.
For what seemed like an hour, but was in reality no more than a few minutes, the kit stood frozen, watching in shock as his father convulsed, screaming. The kit began to shake, hugging himself as the fire spread.
"Kid!" He couldn't look away. His brother Aijou took him by the shoulders, dragging him aside as more of his siblings rushed into the room, some carrying buckets filled with water. Aijou patted him on the head. "Get out of here, little brother. We'll save him."
He turned and stumbled down the hall to the room he shared with Shiyo. Obviously, they didn't know he was responsible for the fire.
His twin stood in the doorway of their room, eyes wide with fear. "What happened?" she gasped. "What started the fire? Is Papa gonna survive?" He ignored her, shoving Shiyo aside and hurrying to his pallet. Underneath he'd hidden his money, both earned and stolen. Now he tucked the pouch into his shirt.
Shiyo watched him silently as he rolled up a blanket and slung it over his shoulder. She followed him down the stairs, and all the way to the back door. She didn't follow him outside.
"Where are you going?" He paused in the middle of the courtyard, a silver wraith bathed in shadows.
"Away, Shiyo. And I'm not coming back."
He could feel her eyes on him as he walked away. When he was sure she could no longer see him, he began to run.
And he never looked back.
~tbc~.
