Categories > Anime/Manga > Yu Yu Hakusho > Cursed
1723 - Tortuga
He ignored the spray of water from the sea wetting his face. The tangy, salty smell of the ocean along with the crashing of the tide against the rocks were lost upon his senses. He turned a blind eye even to the steady glow of the lights from the village and a deaf ear to the gleeful squeals and angry shouts that accompanied them. He seemed frozen to the spot, his eyes opened as if he were afraid to blink. A slight wind whipped his hair and ruffled the clothes, but even still he did not take a step. The only thing capable of capturing his attention was the sight of his father further down the shore.
In what seemed to be an almost lazy fashion, the clouds drifted away from the moon. He stared on in disbelief as the moon light filtered down onto the figure only a few feet away. Cursed as he was, his skin did not turn to bone and his clothes did not become rags; he stood there as if he had not a care in the world, free of any heavy burden.
"Father-" he began, lifting a hand as if to reach out and reassure himself this wasn't all a dream.
"Did you do this to me?" the man hissed, his face melting from shock into anger. "Did you free me?"
"Y-Yes, I thought that was what you wanted-"
"What gave you such a twisted idea?" The man popped his knuckles, allowing his gaze to momentarily drift from his son to his now solid hand. "Do you have the slightest clue as to what price one must pay?"
"He named no such price," he countered, taking an indignant step forward, his own hands curling into fists. He knew he would never fight his father, though his temper was certainly taking its toll.
"Davy Jones has no need to name a price. Haven't you heard the stories? Don't you think there was a price for raisin'/ The Makai /from the murky depths for ol' Cap'n-"
"I told you he named no price!"
"There's always a price, me boy, always a price." He spat at the boy's feet, lips raised in a snarl. "D'ya know what that price is?" He swaggered forward until he was close enough to breathe upon his face, eyes glaring into his in such a way that the younger man could not turn away. "The price, son, is yer soul."
"No..." he breathed. "It... He can't take my-"
"Oh, he won't be goin' after /you/, laddie. He'll be comin' after /me/."
"... Where will you run?"
"Run? Boy, there ain't no sense in runnin'!" He paused, taking a wide step back, a dangerous grin spread on his dirty face. "Go out to sea and the Kraken will hunt you down 'till there's nothing left." Another step back and his hand hovered over the gun sheath at his hip. "Hide on precious land and his minions will track you 'till there's no where left he hasn't touched." His hand slowly drew his gun. A finger twitched and the gun let out a soft click which, in the strange silence that followed, seemed nearly deafening to the younger man. "The only escape," he breathed, lifting the gun and aiming at his own head, taking one last step away, "is death. And only then, boy, will they be comin' after you."
"NO!" He leapt for his father as the sound of gunfire rang through the village and the cove. He soon found himself slowly sinking to his knees, his entire body shaking as he looked on in denial. Eventually he scrambled to bury his father in the sand, his shock slowly fading into panic. The clouds shifted, blocking the moon and its light once more.
Engulfed in sudden darkness, Koenma clung to his dead father and cried himself to sleep.
1726 - Port Royal - Three Years Later
Bleary-eyed and tousle-haired, Koenma stumbled out of bed and staggered to the wash basin planted in the corner. He shivered as his hands met the icy water and soon found himself quite awake once it had been splashed on his face. After using the towel in the corner to dry his face and hands, he rubbed the remaining sleepiness from his eyes and yawned, stretching his arms high above his head. As he inspected his tired face, his mind wandered back to the dream he'd had - the dream he'd been having - about the night his father died. It was a memory that, for all the sleepless nights it had caused him, would simply not leave him alone.
Koenma let out a frustrated sigh, turning away from the mirror to dress and make his bed. He was already running late, and the Masters would not be pleased if he failed to prepare breakfast on time for the third morning in a row. It was just as he'd tucked away the last corners of the bed spread and fluffed his thin pillow that the door swung wide open and banged against the wall. Koenma started, falling backward from his crouched position. From his spot on the floor, he stared up at the upside-down woman peering back down at him.
"Mornin' Koenma!" The woman grinned, giving a slight wave with her right hand, the other clutching her broom.
"Good morning, Botan," Koenma replied with a grin, pushing himself up and brushing off his clothes. "You running late, too?"
"What? Oh, no silly! I've already finished my cleaning. Lady Keiko needs me to beat out the rugs in her room is all."
"I'm running that late?" Koenma winced, deciding it would be in his favor to hurry to the kitchens.
"Well, no, but you'd better hurry!" Botan called after him as he dashed out of the room. She shook her head, a grin on her face as she leaned against her broom. She wasn't quite sure what it was, but there was something about Koenma that made her feel quite giddy. With a slight sigh she exited his room, pulling the door shut with a light click behind her, and continued on her way to her next assignment.
Keiko was seated at the window when Botan arrived and hardly spared the girl a second glance. She was far too busily occupied in staring out the window at the town below, her mind a whirlwind of ideas and worries. It was only when Botan had gathered all the rugs and was halfway out the door that Keiko realized her favorite maid had arrived.
"Oh! Botan!" Keiko smiled at the maid, turning her attention away from the window and standing. "Good morning. My apologies for daydreaming. I just can't help it; so much expected of me and so much I don't want to do..." She took once last glance toward the window and, with a sigh, pulled the curtains shut.
"You can tell me what's on your mind, Miss, if you'd like," Botan replied with a soft smile. Keiko seated herself on the bed, her lips forming a slight frown as a finger traced the stitches on her bed.
"Oh, it's just father expects me to get married and I don't know if I'm ready for that," she sighed, falling back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "What man would ever want to marry me, anyway?"
"There are plenty of fine gentlemen just waiting to make you their bride, Miss," Botan replied, tilting her head to the side in a thoughtful manner. "I'm sure you will have no trouble finding the perfect man."
"I want to get away, Botan," Keiko murmured. "I want adventure... or something. My life here is so terribly boring."
"You, there!" Koenma froze, his hand hovering over the spatula handle, turning his head to see who had called him.
"Yes sir?" He turned and gave a slight bow to the Governor, righting himself with a questioning look.
"I have given George kitchen duties this morning," Governor Yukimura continued, "you are to escort our visitor arriving in the docks today." Koenma nodded as the other man left, a slight look of relief on his face. He despised kitchen duties and would do most anything to get out of them for a day. Judging by how long it would take to get the carriage ready and the amount of time it would take to get to the docks and back, Koenma knew he had best get moving soon.
It was nearly midday by the time the horses were ready. With the sun high overhead, Koenma led the horses down the path to the town, through the city streets and to the docks. His eyes darted about the ships, boats and cargo, a sense of uneasiness flooding over him. This was the ocean; the very thing that had, in a twisted sort of way, claimed his father's life. He pulled the horses to a stop, stepping down from the carriage and made his way toward the docks.
"Excuse me, sir." The quiet voice shook Koenma from his thoughts. He looked around, finally spotting the shock of blue hair directly beside him.
"Are you Lady Yukina?"
"Yes, that would be I," the young woman replied with a slight nod.
"Ah. In that case, I am here to escort you to the Governor's household." Yukina smiled, pleased by the news.
"That was kind of him to send someone to fetch me," she said as they made their way up to the carriage.
"That's the Gov'nor for you," Koenma replied, rolling his eyes at the thought of the man. He wasn't particularly nasty, just enough to grind anyone's nerves after spending more than five minutes in the same room. "So tell me, Lady Yukina, if you don't mind my asking, what brings you to Port Royal?"
"I am... in search of my brother," she replied slowly, her eyes locked on the ground. "He... I've heard he has been here and I intend to search for him. Perhaps I can find someone - or something - capable of pointing me in the right direction."
The trip back to the manor was a long and quiet one. Koenma was thankful he had to drive the carriage; it would have been rather awkward otherwise. It was dark by the time they arrived back home, though many windows of the house were brightly lit by candles as maids, servants and members of the household went about their last minute business. Koenma pulled the carriage to a stop before the front doors, jumping down to help Yukina out of her seat.
"Thank you," Yukina said, lifting the edge of her skirt up and out of the dirt as she stepped toward the door.
"Have a good night," Koenma replied with a tip of his hat. He shut the door of the carriage and jumped back into his own seat, lifting the reigns and commanding the horses onward toward the stable. Early risers that they were, at this late hour the stable boys would already be in bed, leaving Koenma to put up the horses himself.
Removing himself once more from his seat, he unhitched the horses, leading them into the stable, attempting to make as less noise as possible. It took several long minutes to safely secure one horse in their stall and Koenma was looking forward to a good night's sleep. As he turned to the second horse, a slight rustle caught his attention. He turned his head, eyes narrowed, but was unable to find the source of the noise. He shrugged, assuming it had been his imagination or, even if it hadn't, there wasn't anything to be worried about.
He failed to spot the man emerging from the shadows, his features obscured by lack of light. By the time the man raised his fist and struck Koenma upside the head, it was too late; he fell to the ground, unconscious, as the horse let out a shrill whinny and galloped away. The man smirked and uncurled his fist with a sickening crack before turning and setting off toward the mansion.
The night was young and there was much still left to do.
He ignored the spray of water from the sea wetting his face. The tangy, salty smell of the ocean along with the crashing of the tide against the rocks were lost upon his senses. He turned a blind eye even to the steady glow of the lights from the village and a deaf ear to the gleeful squeals and angry shouts that accompanied them. He seemed frozen to the spot, his eyes opened as if he were afraid to blink. A slight wind whipped his hair and ruffled the clothes, but even still he did not take a step. The only thing capable of capturing his attention was the sight of his father further down the shore.
In what seemed to be an almost lazy fashion, the clouds drifted away from the moon. He stared on in disbelief as the moon light filtered down onto the figure only a few feet away. Cursed as he was, his skin did not turn to bone and his clothes did not become rags; he stood there as if he had not a care in the world, free of any heavy burden.
"Father-" he began, lifting a hand as if to reach out and reassure himself this wasn't all a dream.
"Did you do this to me?" the man hissed, his face melting from shock into anger. "Did you free me?"
"Y-Yes, I thought that was what you wanted-"
"What gave you such a twisted idea?" The man popped his knuckles, allowing his gaze to momentarily drift from his son to his now solid hand. "Do you have the slightest clue as to what price one must pay?"
"He named no such price," he countered, taking an indignant step forward, his own hands curling into fists. He knew he would never fight his father, though his temper was certainly taking its toll.
"Davy Jones has no need to name a price. Haven't you heard the stories? Don't you think there was a price for raisin'/ The Makai /from the murky depths for ol' Cap'n-"
"I told you he named no price!"
"There's always a price, me boy, always a price." He spat at the boy's feet, lips raised in a snarl. "D'ya know what that price is?" He swaggered forward until he was close enough to breathe upon his face, eyes glaring into his in such a way that the younger man could not turn away. "The price, son, is yer soul."
"No..." he breathed. "It... He can't take my-"
"Oh, he won't be goin' after /you/, laddie. He'll be comin' after /me/."
"... Where will you run?"
"Run? Boy, there ain't no sense in runnin'!" He paused, taking a wide step back, a dangerous grin spread on his dirty face. "Go out to sea and the Kraken will hunt you down 'till there's nothing left." Another step back and his hand hovered over the gun sheath at his hip. "Hide on precious land and his minions will track you 'till there's no where left he hasn't touched." His hand slowly drew his gun. A finger twitched and the gun let out a soft click which, in the strange silence that followed, seemed nearly deafening to the younger man. "The only escape," he breathed, lifting the gun and aiming at his own head, taking one last step away, "is death. And only then, boy, will they be comin' after you."
"NO!" He leapt for his father as the sound of gunfire rang through the village and the cove. He soon found himself slowly sinking to his knees, his entire body shaking as he looked on in denial. Eventually he scrambled to bury his father in the sand, his shock slowly fading into panic. The clouds shifted, blocking the moon and its light once more.
Engulfed in sudden darkness, Koenma clung to his dead father and cried himself to sleep.
1726 - Port Royal - Three Years Later
Bleary-eyed and tousle-haired, Koenma stumbled out of bed and staggered to the wash basin planted in the corner. He shivered as his hands met the icy water and soon found himself quite awake once it had been splashed on his face. After using the towel in the corner to dry his face and hands, he rubbed the remaining sleepiness from his eyes and yawned, stretching his arms high above his head. As he inspected his tired face, his mind wandered back to the dream he'd had - the dream he'd been having - about the night his father died. It was a memory that, for all the sleepless nights it had caused him, would simply not leave him alone.
Koenma let out a frustrated sigh, turning away from the mirror to dress and make his bed. He was already running late, and the Masters would not be pleased if he failed to prepare breakfast on time for the third morning in a row. It was just as he'd tucked away the last corners of the bed spread and fluffed his thin pillow that the door swung wide open and banged against the wall. Koenma started, falling backward from his crouched position. From his spot on the floor, he stared up at the upside-down woman peering back down at him.
"Mornin' Koenma!" The woman grinned, giving a slight wave with her right hand, the other clutching her broom.
"Good morning, Botan," Koenma replied with a grin, pushing himself up and brushing off his clothes. "You running late, too?"
"What? Oh, no silly! I've already finished my cleaning. Lady Keiko needs me to beat out the rugs in her room is all."
"I'm running that late?" Koenma winced, deciding it would be in his favor to hurry to the kitchens.
"Well, no, but you'd better hurry!" Botan called after him as he dashed out of the room. She shook her head, a grin on her face as she leaned against her broom. She wasn't quite sure what it was, but there was something about Koenma that made her feel quite giddy. With a slight sigh she exited his room, pulling the door shut with a light click behind her, and continued on her way to her next assignment.
Keiko was seated at the window when Botan arrived and hardly spared the girl a second glance. She was far too busily occupied in staring out the window at the town below, her mind a whirlwind of ideas and worries. It was only when Botan had gathered all the rugs and was halfway out the door that Keiko realized her favorite maid had arrived.
"Oh! Botan!" Keiko smiled at the maid, turning her attention away from the window and standing. "Good morning. My apologies for daydreaming. I just can't help it; so much expected of me and so much I don't want to do..." She took once last glance toward the window and, with a sigh, pulled the curtains shut.
"You can tell me what's on your mind, Miss, if you'd like," Botan replied with a soft smile. Keiko seated herself on the bed, her lips forming a slight frown as a finger traced the stitches on her bed.
"Oh, it's just father expects me to get married and I don't know if I'm ready for that," she sighed, falling back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "What man would ever want to marry me, anyway?"
"There are plenty of fine gentlemen just waiting to make you their bride, Miss," Botan replied, tilting her head to the side in a thoughtful manner. "I'm sure you will have no trouble finding the perfect man."
"I want to get away, Botan," Keiko murmured. "I want adventure... or something. My life here is so terribly boring."
"You, there!" Koenma froze, his hand hovering over the spatula handle, turning his head to see who had called him.
"Yes sir?" He turned and gave a slight bow to the Governor, righting himself with a questioning look.
"I have given George kitchen duties this morning," Governor Yukimura continued, "you are to escort our visitor arriving in the docks today." Koenma nodded as the other man left, a slight look of relief on his face. He despised kitchen duties and would do most anything to get out of them for a day. Judging by how long it would take to get the carriage ready and the amount of time it would take to get to the docks and back, Koenma knew he had best get moving soon.
It was nearly midday by the time the horses were ready. With the sun high overhead, Koenma led the horses down the path to the town, through the city streets and to the docks. His eyes darted about the ships, boats and cargo, a sense of uneasiness flooding over him. This was the ocean; the very thing that had, in a twisted sort of way, claimed his father's life. He pulled the horses to a stop, stepping down from the carriage and made his way toward the docks.
"Excuse me, sir." The quiet voice shook Koenma from his thoughts. He looked around, finally spotting the shock of blue hair directly beside him.
"Are you Lady Yukina?"
"Yes, that would be I," the young woman replied with a slight nod.
"Ah. In that case, I am here to escort you to the Governor's household." Yukina smiled, pleased by the news.
"That was kind of him to send someone to fetch me," she said as they made their way up to the carriage.
"That's the Gov'nor for you," Koenma replied, rolling his eyes at the thought of the man. He wasn't particularly nasty, just enough to grind anyone's nerves after spending more than five minutes in the same room. "So tell me, Lady Yukina, if you don't mind my asking, what brings you to Port Royal?"
"I am... in search of my brother," she replied slowly, her eyes locked on the ground. "He... I've heard he has been here and I intend to search for him. Perhaps I can find someone - or something - capable of pointing me in the right direction."
The trip back to the manor was a long and quiet one. Koenma was thankful he had to drive the carriage; it would have been rather awkward otherwise. It was dark by the time they arrived back home, though many windows of the house were brightly lit by candles as maids, servants and members of the household went about their last minute business. Koenma pulled the carriage to a stop before the front doors, jumping down to help Yukina out of her seat.
"Thank you," Yukina said, lifting the edge of her skirt up and out of the dirt as she stepped toward the door.
"Have a good night," Koenma replied with a tip of his hat. He shut the door of the carriage and jumped back into his own seat, lifting the reigns and commanding the horses onward toward the stable. Early risers that they were, at this late hour the stable boys would already be in bed, leaving Koenma to put up the horses himself.
Removing himself once more from his seat, he unhitched the horses, leading them into the stable, attempting to make as less noise as possible. It took several long minutes to safely secure one horse in their stall and Koenma was looking forward to a good night's sleep. As he turned to the second horse, a slight rustle caught his attention. He turned his head, eyes narrowed, but was unable to find the source of the noise. He shrugged, assuming it had been his imagination or, even if it hadn't, there wasn't anything to be worried about.
He failed to spot the man emerging from the shadows, his features obscured by lack of light. By the time the man raised his fist and struck Koenma upside the head, it was too late; he fell to the ground, unconscious, as the horse let out a shrill whinny and galloped away. The man smirked and uncurled his fist with a sickening crack before turning and setting off toward the mansion.
The night was young and there was much still left to do.
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