FicWad

Yuki's memories of his childhood had become a collection of hazy, disjointed images, like a pearl necklace come undone, its pearls strewn all across the dusty floor. Poignant images and half-remembered faces of happier times--his parents, his playmates, his teachers, old Commander Tanaka, his father's ministers, his uncles and aunts and cousins numbering by the hundreds, the soldiers, the servants and the gardeners, the people in the city. Each memory brought its own bittersweet beauty, and Yuki once sought to escape by immersing himself in his memories, living entirely in the past as an attempt to deny his present.

But Akito had found him there, and now all his memories were poisoned by darkness. Every wistful image was tainted by Akito's presence, and every joyful memory led him to the nightmare of the last day, the one memory he longed to forget. Now every time he remembered, he would find himself back in the ruins of his home, hearing the dying screams of his people, crawling out from underneath the limp body of his mother and watching his father's murder at the hands of the one who had enslaved the dark god of silence.

Akito. His brother.

Yuki had known all along who Akito was. He'd heard the whispers in the palace, and even if he hadn't, he'd have been blind not to notice the eerie resemblance between him and the black-haired youth. He'd also known from the way his mother's lips tightened at the mere mention of Akito and the way his father avoided all talk of him that Yuki would not be hearing the truth from his own parents.

Then one day, Akito himself told him. Yuki had been exploring the palace when Akito appeared. He walked toward him as silently as a shadow, knelt in front of him and put his hands on his shoulders. Keeping his surprise from showing, Yuki gazed up at the face that looked too much like his own for comfort, and Akito smiled warmly, belying the coldness in his gray eyes.

"Yuki," Akito murmured, his voice tinged with laughter. "Six years old and already so restrained. How very princely of you."

"Akito," Yuki said, unable to think of a better response. A chill was beginning to envelope him, and the hands on his shoulders felt like cold steel.

One of the hands lifted, caressing him from brow to throat. "So beautiful," Akito whispered, his eyes roving over him in a way that made Yuki shudder despite his rigid control over his reactions. "So perfect in every way. Do you know who I am, Yuki? Yes, I can see in your eyes that you do." He leaned closer until his lips brushed against his ear. "You are mine, Yuki. The Goddess has given you to me. Your heart will beat for me, your blood will flow for me, and your strength will be my strength. /Never forget/."

Fear and disgust shot through him, and Yuki would have forgotten all about princely restraint in the next instant and pushed Akito away if a servant hadn't come upon them. Akito vanished, and Yuki stood there, trembling, wondering what on earth the black-haired youth meant.

He found out three years later. He'd opened his eyes, expecting to find himself drifting in the watery depths of the lake, expecting to be dead, but the gods had not granted him that kindness. Instead, he was lying naked on a cold marble slab in a chamber lit by floating tongues of fire. His arms and legs were clamped down by iron bands, and at the corner of his eye he could see writhing shadows with glowing green eyes watching him avidly. The shadows parted, and Akito came to stand over him. The change in the dark-haired youth was startling. Akito's pallor was now tinged with gray, and his face bore lines and hollows that weren't there before. His dark hair lay lank against his head, and his black robe hung loosely on his thin frame. He looked like death itself, and Yuki recoiled from him as far as his restraints allowed him.

Akito noticed his reaction and smiled. "Yes, that would make you happy, wouldn't it, my beautiful Yuki? Seeing me dead. You'd be pleased to know that I am dying. Creating this little paradise has drained me, and my slave wants nothing more than to feed on my soul. If I stay longer in this body, I will perish, but unfortunately for you both, I have no intention of dying anytime soon. Not until I see your race utterly destroyed and my people's kingdom restored to its former glory, the glory that your people stole from us. Isn't that, after all, what justice is for?"

His bony fingers traced a path along the length of Yuki's body. Terror and revulsion swept over him, but his desperate struggles to free himself only amused Akito more. "So much beauty in one body," he murmured almost absently. "So much strength and grace. Your blood is the purest of the race of the Sun God, did you know that, Yuki? Your body is the most immaculate vessel for the power you yourself lack. And now--" his hand drifted upward and press hard against Yuki's stomach, feeling the frantic pounding of a pulse there "--and now, this body belongs to /me/."

The shadows that had been gathering over them suddenly swept downward in a great gale. Green-tinged lightning exploded from Akito's hand and arced over Yuki. Pain beyond anything he had ever imagined possessed him as his body and soul were ripped apart, and Yuki's screams echoed throughout the tower and pierced the mists over the lake.

When the worst of the pain had receded, Yuki found himself staring in horror at the body lying on the marble slab. Limp, black hair, a wasted frame, a face as pale as death. Akito's body. His own hands lifted up to pat his chest and arms, and his lips parted in a smile of triumph, but it wasn't by Yuki's will. He could only hover helplessly as the hated invader shunted him aside like so much baggage and took over. He was a prisoner in his own body.

Why, yes, you are. Akito's amused voice surrounded Yuki from all sides. I thank you for the gift of life you have given me, my beloved Yuki. Oh, but I am not completely selfish. I have given you in exchange what everyone in the world longs for. I have given you immortality.

In the beginning, Yuki fought to regain control of his own body, but Akito's spell was too strong. Anguish and fear were Akito's chosen weapons, and Yuki's defenses crumbled against his onslaught. Time passed, and soon all he sought was to escape from Akito's constant presence. He fled through the misty world of thought and fantasy, seeking to escape in his childhood memories, in empty daydreams, even in recollections of past lessons with his tutors, but always, always Akito found him. All his desires and hopes and dreams withered away; only despair and fear and hatred remained. Finally, in desperation, Yuki created a world of his own where nothing existed. No memory, no thought, no emotion, no hope-nothing at all that Akito could use to torture him with. A world of white as far as the eye could see, where Yuki found refuge during the oppressive nights when Akito reigned over him.

And in the daytime, the moment the sun touched the horizon, Yuki found himself in control once more. He was standing at the edge of the lake, blinking up at the rising sun, breathing in the smell of fresh air. Still, Akito defeated him, for the body he had was not his own, but that of a small, weak animal that was horribly ill equipped to survive against the monsters in the forest. But even that didn't matter. In his mouse form, he could not be killed. He could feel pain when the monsters mauled him, but after the darkness, he would wake up to find himself alive and healthy again-and still a mouse. Akito had made good his promise of immortality; for as long as Yuki's body and soul remained apart, he could not die. Akito would never let him get away so easily.

The days and weeks and months crawled by in much the same way. In the daytime, he became a silvery-white mouse, forced to contend against a forest of monsters with only his wits and his ability to communicate with the giant rats to help him. At night, when the last of the sun had been swallowed up by the earth, Yuki's body returned to its true form, and Yuki retreated to his refuge of nothingness while Akito used his body for whatever purpose he had in mind.

Seven years passed, and Yuki's memories of the child he had been grew dim. His days were spent exploring the forest and learning how to keep the monsters at bay; what his body did at night he had no desire to find out. Sometimes, when the loneliness became too great to bear, he would seek out Ritsu for company; sometimes, it was Ritsu who sought him out. Ritsu was the only other survivor of the destruction, and the only one in Akito's realm who could keep his body and soul together at all times. Then again, there really was no need to put a curse on Ritsu. The boy was as broken as Yuki was. Ritsu was the son of a nobleman and a kitchen maid, and for most of his childhood, Ritsu had had to suffer Akito's fate, to a lesser degree, and it had weakened Ritsu so much so that when Akito found him cowering in the tower, it had been all too easy to break his spirit. Ritsu tended the tower now, dressed in the tattered smock and apron of a kitchen maid, and when pressed to speak, he would dissolve into tears, grovel on his knees and babble apologies. But sometimes Ritsu would talk to Yuki, and sometimes the two of them would sit at the shore in silence, and Yuki wondered at the odd fate that brought two such pathetic creatures together--a girl who should have been a boy, and a mouse who should have been human.

A harsh screech jerked Yuki out of his memory-induced stupor, and he scrambled up frantically and looked around. He was still in the clearing, with the kendama lying beside him, the painted words screaming accusingly at him. He searched the sky, but there was nothing there, save for the black, roiling clouds that had completely blotted out the sun, and as if on cue, thunder rumbled ominously. The thunder must have woken him up. Yuki breathed a sigh of relief, which quickly turned to puzzlement when he realized that he must have been lying on the ground in a semi-conscious state for nearly an hour. Now that was strange. Had he been in the forest, he'd have woken up in some blood-owl's nest by now or worse, but here he was, still whole and relatively undisturbed. There was some force at work in this clearing, some lingering traces of magic unlike that of the rest of Akito's realm, and whatever it was, it was something the monsters found repellent. Yuki wished he knew more, but magic was a gray area to him, and the memory of those farcical magic lessons with that treacherous mage was another he was only too willing to forget.

He sighed and shook himself to get rid of the cobwebs in his head. When he looked up, his gaze fell upon a rock half-buried in the ground near the kendama. He pattered up to it, ran his paw over the odd green stains upon the surface, then sniffed curiously. The stains turned out to be algae. Traces of algae on a rock that was a good two feet away from the water's edge. "Just as I thought. This clearing used to be under the lake."

Which meant the lake had shrunk enough to uncover at least some of the outer edges of the palace. The waters of the lake had been slowly receding for months now, but the rate had speeded up in the past several days. Ever since that idiot cat arrived, Yuki realized with a jolt. Somehow, the cat's arrival had subtly altered the power holding Akito's realm together. Akito created this realm, and nothing left or entered it unless Akito willed it. Whoever the cat was, he was somebody Akito had great interest in keeping alive--at least for now.

There was a slight rustling, and as if his thoughts had summoned it, the cat appeared, crouching down at the water's edge for a drink. Standing downwind and with the rock to conceal him, Yuki was able to observe his fellow prisoner quite freely. Even the cat seemed to be feeling the peculiar magic of the clearing; it was the first time Yuki had ever seen it so unguarded. The cat stepped away almost daintily, sniffed at the reeds, then sat down and began to wash itself. Yuki watched in amusement. Here was the great hunter of the forest, the ferocious predator who thirsted for his blood. His gaze turned scornful. "Idiot," he muttered underneath his breath.

"His name is Kyo," Ritsu had told him some days ago. "He came from across the sea. He's been keeping him locked in the dungeon most nights, but sometimes he would have him brought to the great hall and made to fight you, Your Highness. Him l-looking like you, I mean."

Yuki, who'd been absently nibbling on a lump of stale bread, looked up sharply. He knew who "he" was; Ritsu never called Akito by name. But this was the first time he'd heard anything about the newcomer. "Why would Akito do that?"

Ritsu winced reflexively at the hated name. "I-it's the condition for his release. He told him that if he d-defeated you, he would set him free. But you've always been an amazing fighter and he knows that, and that's why--that's why--" Ritsu's eyes filled with tears, and he shrank into himself, letting his long, light brown hair cover his face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner. It's all my fault. I'm sorry for being so worthless."

Yuki let his thoughts wander while he waited for Ritsu's spasm of remorse to pass. A vague compassion was stirring inside him at the thought of the torment Akito had chosen to visit upon this Kyo. An illusion of hope when there was none--that seemed a particularly painful cruelty. That ridiculous condition about defeating Akito in Yuki's body was a double-edged sword, as much as Akito's "gift" of immortality was to Yuki. Akito obviously intended to break this boy as thoroughly as Ritsu had been broken. As Yuki had been broken, for that matter.

"The demons call him the child of sorrow," Ritsu mumbled. "Even he calls him the child of sorrow. I-it makes him so angry to be called that."

"Child of sorrow?" Yuki frowned. For some reason, the words touched a chord somewhere in the darkest recesses of his mind. "Is that supposed to mean anything?"

"I-I don't know. I'm sorry I don't know. I'm sorry I'm so useless." Ritsu's voice dwindled to a despondent muttering, and long practice was all that kept Yuki from glowering impatiently at the other boy. "He hates you, Your Highness," Ritsu went on in a low, fearful voice. "He's sworn to k-kill you. He doesn't know about him or the curse. All he sees is /you/."

Silvery whiskers twitched. "That sounds like the idiot cat," Yuki said sardonically as he turned and padded away, the brief flare of sympathy fizzling out in its own ashes. Still, he couldn't help feeling a stab of envy as he stood now beside the rock watching the cat settle down for a nap, looking absurdly at peace with itself. The cat was cursed just as he was, only in reverse--an animal in body and spirit in the daytime, and a complete human being at night. This Kyo didn't know how good he had it. He didn't have to live with the threat of losing himself to the beasts around and within him in full consciousness. With each passing year, Yuki forgot little bits and pieces of his humanity, and the prospect of spending the rest of his life as an animal who remembered what it was like to be human terrified him. The cat was protected by its own ignorance and stupidity. Yuki's awareness tormented him.

But then, Yuki didn't have to spend what few hours of sentience he had locked in a dungeon, only to be dragged out, forced to fight a monster in human form and suffer defeat again and again. Yuki was allowed the illusion of freedom; the cat had the illusion of hope. They stood on opposite sides of hell but it was the same hell, and the same devil ruled over them both.

Yuki sighed and raised his eyes to the sky, and only then noticed the black shape spiraling high above them. His breath died in his throat and terror seized him even before the harsh, high screech that had woken him up split the air like a blade through old cloth. He crumpled up into a shivering ball, and from the corner of his eye he saw the cat leap up with a maddened yowl, every hair on its body standing on end, slanted eyes rolling wildly. In the next instant the cat had fled into the forest in a blind panic, and Yuki was left alone in the clearing.

He whimpered as the black, winged shape swept over him again. Akito. The lord of his realm, surveying all that he ruled. He needed no tower, not when he was in this form--an immense black hawk with pale, glittering eyes and claws like poison-tipped daggers, whose very shadow struck fear in the hearts of human and beast alike. Akito often took this form in the daytime when he recuperated from the strain of occupying a body that wasn't his own, and its significance did not escape Yuki. A hawk--a bird who preyed on mice. The hawk shrieked again, and the sound lashed at the small white form on the ground. "Go away," Yuki moaned. "Leave me alone."

Lightning tore through the sky, the thunder chasing at its heels. The storm was upon them. Yuki struggled against the choking cloud of fear and hatred and forced himself to look up. The hawk circling through the storm clouds was not focused on him, but on a part of the forest some distance away from the clearing, almost at the very edge of the borders. The tops of the trees glowed with a greenish aura punctuated by jagged arcs of electricity. Something was coming through the borders, something that interested Akito greatly. Lightning cracked again, and the hawk screeched in annoyance; for all his power, even Akito disliked flying through storms. With one last swoop over the forest, the hawk wheeled around and soared back toward his tower. Yuki could almost feel his satisfaction. The forest would deal with this intruder soon enough.

Fury rose within him, dispelling the last traces of paralyzing terror. The intruder was likely a poor hunter who had blundered into the forest and accidentally crossed the borders. If the magical fields protecting the realm had not fried his brains yet, then the monsters would finish the job. There was no chance for an ordinary human to survive the forest, and this Yuki knew only too well. Too often in the past he'd come upon the scene too late to do anything but stay out of the vicious scrabble for the bloodied remains. Another life sacrificed needlessly to Akito's greater glory. Another life destroyed.

Violet eyes narrowed into slits just before Yuki pushed himself up and scampered into the forest, stopping only once to grab a twig lying on the ground between his teeth. A giant rat appeared at his side a minute later, answering his mental summons, and he leaped upon its shoulder and swung himself up to the top of its head. He didn't know what he could do--not even he could control the giant rats in a feeding frenzy-but perhaps he could help give the poor man some dignity in death. Take away the pain and set him free before the monsters tore him apart. It was the only kindness Yuki could offer, and it would never be enough.

And just as it happened too many times before, the last thing this man would see before his life was snuffed out was a small white mouse glowing silver against the darkness, his violet eyes watching with gentle compassion.