[ Watashi ]

[ Tomodachi ]

[ Saint Seiya ]

[ Clamp ]

[ Fanfiction ]

I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do. This is way beyond me or anyone that I know. The words kept echoing in Shinomori Aoshi's mind, taunting him. Try though he might, he couldn't send them away. With them came the picture of Misao being brought to the Aoiya, as pale as death. The young woman had been unconscious as she had been put to bed, and nothing could seem to wake her. The doctor who had examined her had found nothing to explain her state, his only comment having been that her heartbeats were so weak that he feared her heart might stop at any time.

None of them understood what had befallen Misao, but Shinomori knew. He knew what had happened, and he knew that he was the one responsible. He was a fool for not having seen that the young woman had picked up his inner turmoil; she was very perceptive and she hadn't missed his reaction on that fateful night, more than a month ago. She hadn't come to him or to the old Okina for answers, because she had been certain of how she'd be treated.

Like the child she no longer was.

Himura had told him this time and again, and he hadn't listened. Now Misao was paying the price for his reluctance to see her as she had become: a fine young woman with a sharp mind, a good heart, and feelings. Strong feelings which pushed her to rash, risky actions. Shaking his head, Shinomori Aoshi discarded the futile emotion which could only impair him at the price of an effort of will. He had reached his destination, and he knew that the task ahead wouldn't be an easy one, far from it.

The main entry gate of the ancient mansion was impressive, it managed to make one who stood in its shadow feel strange and awkward. The sounds of people walking in the street behind him, chatting and commenting on the weather or the market's prices faded to the back of his mind as he resolutely stepped forward.

He must accept. He *must*.

The great door before Shinomori Aoshi slowly opened, just enough to allow a sullen teenager to step out and stand in front of him.

"Who are you?" The boy had a harsh voice, and there was a telltale flame of anger burning in his eyes. The tension in his stance indicated both unease and unwillingness to deal with a stranger. A distant part of the Oniwabanshu leader noted this, wondering with wry amusement why such a lousy servant had been given the task of welcoming visitors to the house.

Perhaps the rumors are true, then. It didn't matter to Shinomori Aoshi, no more than the young servant's rudeness did. With a short bow, he said in a quiet voice, "My name is Shinomori Aoshi. I'm sorry to disturb the peace of this house so unexpectedly, but I have come to request an interview with the Head of the Sumeragi clan."

Something briefly flickered in the teenager's dark eyes, unreadable, and then his face became perfectly expressionless. Nodding, the boy replied, "I'm afraid that won't be possible. Sumeragi-sama is otherwise engaged."

That said, the servant turned on his heels, clearly about to get back inside the mansion and to close the door on the Oniwabanshu leader's face. That wouldn't do. In a lightning quick movement, Shinomori Aoshi reached out and closed a hand over the adolescent's left arm, holding him back. Then he said, as quietly as before, "I must insist. The matter is of utmost importance."

The boy snorted. "That's what they all say." He gave a violent pull, but Shinomori Aoshi mastered him easily. Then the servant turned to face him and hissed, furious, "Let me go!"

The raw anger, the rage in that youthful voice surprised the leader of Oniwabanshu, but he didn't release his prey. The adolescent was his key to the leader of the Sumeragi clan, and he wouldn't let go of him until he was satisfied. The boy's struggle didn't last for long. When he understood that there was no way he could win free, he said, sulking, "You're wasting your time, Sumeragi-sama won't see you. Sumeragi-sama doesn't see anyone anymore."

"Why would that be?" Shinomori Aoshi's voice was still quiet, but there was a cold quality to it now. "I know for a fact that the weavers of the Nishijin quarter have requested and obtained help from the Sumeragi family to rid them of a curse that nobody else could cure."

The sullen teenager shivered, perhaps in reaction to the subtle change in the tone of the Oniwabanshu leader's voice, and he replied, "You were the leader of Edo Castle's Shadow Guards. Sumeragi-sama refuses to deal with anyone who was involved in the struggles of the Bakumatsu and the Meiji Restoration, no matter which side they were on. Now," the adolescent flung himself forward, using his whole weight, "let me *go*!"

Shinomori Aoshi's grip on the young man's arm faltered. On impulse, he released his prey while reaching down for the kodachi blade on his left side. He didn't intend to harm the boy, but he had to win inside this mansion, by force if need be. Propriety mattered not at all in this moment. The only thing that still held meaning to him was that someone inside those walls could perhaps help Misao and save her life.

"No weapon will be drawn in this house."

The voice rang in the air, clear and steady. Focusing on it, the leader of Oniwabanshu saw that another person had come out of the mansion and was now facing him. Shinomori Aoshi blinked, taken aback by the sight set before his eyes.

The woman was yet young, in her early thirties, mid-thirties at the most. She was wearing an old pair of hakama and a jacket, and her hair was done in a high pony tail, as if she had been a man. She was far from being beautiful, but there was pride in her stance, and strength in that tall, slim body. There were calluses on her hands, from hard work most likely; calluses that Shinomori Aoshi would have sworn came from kenjutsu practice had she been a man. Looking down at the younger servant, she told him with an almost imperceptible sigh, "I thought we had agreed that you would no longer filter visitors, Eiji."

Noticing the guilt which flashed in the teenager's eyes and the way he bowed without the smallest hint of rebellion, the Oniwabanshu leader smiled to himself. Weird though she seemed to be, the woman knew how to deal with difficulty. The subtle mixture of gentle rebuke and commandment in the tone of her voice had been perfectly balanced. Perhaps she would be open to reason. Perhaps.... Looking into her strange eyes, nut brown with incredibly clear patches of green, he asked her, "Please, is there no way for me to meet with the Head of the Sumeragi clan?"

The woman's eerie gaze set on him, and she observed him in silence for a few seconds before giving him an imperceptible blow. "No, I'm afraid there isn't."

Shinomori Aoshi bowed his head. The answer he had just been given was unacceptable. The servant didn't understand what was at stake, she thought his visit was part of a political game, that he had come here for power, to obtain the support of the influential Sumeragi family, but that wasn't so. He was here to find a way to save Misao, Misao who was dying because of him...and he couldn't allow himself to be stopped by mere servants.

No matter what.

His decision made, Shinomori Aoshi drew his twin kodachi blades.

I watched the young man as he bowed his head, and felt the desperation emanating from him. His whole body was rigid, screaming the feelings that were choking it. I knew what he would do even before the thought started to form in his mind. Still, I waited, set on leaving him a chance to regain his wits and leave my house with his pride and honor intact.

Then he drew his fabled kodachi blades.

With a soft sigh, I focused and whispered the two syllables which would release a very simple spell.

A violent gust of wind rose out of nowhere, surrounding the Oniwabanshu leader and paralyzing him before he could completely unsheathe the twin blades. To his credit, he didn't try to fight it, even though he was unable to see the myriad of diminutive shikigami that I had just invoked. His dark, night-blue eyes eventually met mine and widened as understanding struck and as he realized what he had just done. With a slow nod in his direction, I smiled and released my spell.

The small, bird-like spirits gleefully flew free, and faded away as they merged with the wind.

"You," there was no emotion in the man's voice as he said, "are the Head of the Sumeragi clan."

Beside me, Eiji smirked and I realized that there was laughter bubbling up my throat. Chiding myself for childish behavior, I quickly reined in the impulse and shrugged. "It may be."

"Won't you please listen to me?" There was that terrible desperation inflaming the man's dark eyes again. The reason which had pushed him to come here must have been truly important, but that didn't change anything.

I would have nothing to do with anyone who had been a part of the struggles which had shaken Japan, almost destroyed Kyoto and killed both my parents. I wouldn't deal with those who played with power as if it was some kind of game. Shaking my head, I told the man, "You heard what Eiji told you: I won't hear any request from you, Shinomori-san."

I made to turn away, but in the same time he said in a barely audible whisper, "Onegaishimasu." Deeply, he bowed, then looked up at me. "There's a young woman who will die if you don't help her. I have no favor to ask for myself, it's for her. She had nothing to do with the events of the past." I stared into Shinomori Aoshi's beautiful night-blue eyes, and saw darkness there. I saw grief and fear, I saw a despair which could turn to madness, and felt a heavy weight settling over my heart. "Please, you must help her. Help Misao, or she'll never wake up again."

"Misao?" I asked, unable to help myself. "Makimachi Misao, the girl who tried to protect Kyoto from Shishio Makoto's men?" The man before me nodded, and I heaved a weary sigh. This changed matters, even though I was loath to admit it. I have no choice, have I? Nodding at Shinomori Aoshi, I told him in a carefully controlled voice, "Then I must honor the debt I owe her." A bitter smile came to my lips as I explained, "It's my family's duty to protect this city and this land, but we hold power only over the spiritual side, and we are powerless to act when madmen want to start another civil war. In gathering people and putting out the fires, preventing Kyoto to be burnt to the ground and thus saving innocent people's lives, she did what we couldn't do." With a vague gesture towards the street in front of me, I said, "So lead the way. If there's anything I can do to help young Makimachi Misao, I swear that I'll do it." Light came back into the eyes which had slowly been drowning into darkness, and a small part of the weight over my heart lifted.

A small part only, for even though I wielded significant power and knew many ways of healing the spirit, still I didn't know whether I'd be able to do anything. It was weird enough to see anyone coming to me for help as if I had been some kind of physician. I couldn't treat wounds of the body, and I didn't see what could have harmed Makimachi Misao in a spiritual way. There had been no disturbance in the city's aura since the night when I had convinced a small kami to leave the Nishijin quarter.

Then what happened to Makimachi Misao?

The question accompanied me on my way as I followed the tall and silent Shinomori Aoshi in Kyoto's busy streets.

The silence filling the restaurant called the Aoiya was full of pain and sadness. There was a strange hush over the place, as if the stones and the plants, the wood of the building itself were waiting in fear. I froze as I stepped inside, and my heart skipped a beat.

Wrong.

I blinked, and all of a sudden the choking feeling faded away. Something had just brushed against my wards. A gust of burning wind.... Slowly, I looked up at the stairs leading up to the first floor, where the bedrooms would be, and all at once I felt my mind reeling.

"What's the matter?"

I snapped free from the slight trance when Shinomori Aoshi's words reached my brain, and I shook my head in silence, unable to explain the abrupt shift that I had just felt in the air. There was something nameless hovering over the building, a subtle, almost imperceptible unbalance, that I hadn't even been able to feel from the street. On impulse, I released the shields which protected me night and day and followed my guide when he started climbing up the stairs. After all, it seemed only Makimachi Misao had been affected by whatever it was that had happened, so I could reasonably think it was safe for me to drop my wards.

Even if there was something wrong with the flow of life in this place.

"I see that you brought her back with you. Well done, Aoshi-kun."

"*Her*? How much did you leave out when you sent me to the Sumeragi mansion, old man?" There definitely was a note of exasperation in Shinomori Aoshi's voice.

"Not much. In fact, I didn't know anything for sure, I merely suspected from various reports that I heard." The old man pivoted on his knees and bowed low to me. "You have the Oniwabanshu's heartfelt thanks and gratitude for accepting to come, Sumeragi-sama."

I didn't hear the old man.

I didn't even see him.

All that I saw was the young woman lying on a futon on his left.

All that I felt was her.

Her, and the web of darkness choking her spirit.

Its fragile, delicate tendrils of night reaching out to coil up around her arms and legs, engulfing her whole being.

It's.... I shivered, unable to prevent the reaction. The worst of it was that none of those who were by her side, watching over her, could see or feel the horribly beautiful spell which was imprisoning the girl. Slowly, hesitantly, I stepped towards her. It had been so masterfully done that I hadn't truly felt it, not even when I had stepped into the restaurant. It was almost alive, it could hide itself from those with talent, it.... Wrong. This is.... I shook my head. So terribly wrong....

"Sumeragi-sama, what's wrong?" The concern in the old man's voice somehow managed to reach me and I faced him, detaching myself from the sight of Makimachi Misao's prone form with difficulty.

Between clenched teeth, I told both him and the Oniwabanshu leader, "You were right to come to me. No priest can help something for like this." No, a priest couldn't help, purification rituals couldn't help, prayers couldn't help. Only a powerful Onmyouji might, perhaps.

And the risks....

Dear spirits, I couldn't stop to think about those, I couldn't or I'd back down and betray my given word, but.... I didn't even know whether what I had seen and felt was truly a spell. What was certain was that it could well be there was more to it than I was aware of. I couldn't set to work immediately. There were preparations to be made if I was to stand a chance at saving Makimachi Misao, because if I didn't free her from what was ailing her....

It'd drain her life dry.

I took a deep breath to steady myself, and focused on Shinomori Aoshi, asking him in as quiet a voice as I could muster, "Can you spare someone to send back to my house?" At the Oniwabanshu leader's silent nod, I went on, "Good. I need some items to be brought to me, as quickly as possible." At this moment, a woman entered the room and bowed low to me, holding out a parchment and a pen. "Thank you," I whispered to her, and I knelt down while she did the same; then I put the writing set beside me. Dipping the quill in the small ink pot, I stared at the ripples it stirred in the utterly black liquid, and realized that something was subtly closing over my soul, gentle and delicate. Unfelt, almost.

Fear.

I bit my lower lip, furious, and sent the traitorous emotion away. There was no place for it in my heart. This isn't a war, I'm not fighting another, I'm just trying to heal an innocent girl. I hammered the thought inside my stupid brain. This has nothing to do with what happened during the last years of the Bakumatsu, it has nothing to do with...him.

In quick, nervous moves, I scribbled down a description of what items I'd need, and then handed the parchment to the woman who was waiting by my side, telling her with a slight bow, They'll know when they see my seal. Please, hurry as much as you can."

Once the room's door was slid shut, the old man looked at me, his eyes set on mine. Quietly, he asked, "Why such a tension in your voice, Sumeragi-sama?"

I snorted derisively at the form of address. "Please, drop the honorific, I'm not one of those close-minded high nobles." With a shrug, I added, "As to why the tension..." I turned towards the listless form of the young woman and my voice reduced to a whisper as I said, "speed is of the essence. She doesn't have time."

No, she didn't, and yet...from what Shinomori Aoshi had told me, whatever had struck Makimachi Misao had done so last night. It was both a short and a long time ago. A lethal spell would have killed the young woman almost instantly, just as an evil spirit would have. This felt very strange, odd in ways I couldn't name.

It was as if the girl had deliberately been given a bit of time before--

With a small sigh of frustration, I looked out the room's rear panel towards the Aoiya's beautiful inner garden. Distantly, I noted that the sun had passed its zenith. I needed to act before sundown, what I would attempt needed the light of day to have a chance at success.

Turning towards Shinomori Aoshi and the old man, I bowed. "Excuse me, but I'm going to start preparations. Can I ask you to please leave this room?"

"Of course, Sumeragi-san. If you need anything, please tell us, we'll be waiting right outside." The old man smiled at me and then stood up, the smoothness in his movements belying his age, and then both men quietly exited the bedroom.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and focused my whole being on this place's aura.

On its life, and on the dark taint that was marring and disturbing its flow.

My eyes fluttered open as a slight rustling of fabric reached my ears, warning me that someone was kneeling down at my side.

"Here it is, Tokio-san."

I looked up in a sharp movement as I recognized the voice, and shook my head. "Eiji." I refrained a sigh when I saw the smile on the young man's face. Gently, mercilessly, I asked him, "What are you doing here?"

The boy's smile froze on his lips and he replied, the expression on his face a closely guarded one, "I helped bring your things, and I made sure that nothing was forgotten."

Forcing a smile to come to my own lips, I told him, "I know that, Eiji-kun, and I thank you for it. Now," I looked the adolescent right in the eye, "you'll exit this room and go back to the Sumeragi mansion." With a small, fatalistic wave of my left hand, I added, "And if you truly can't be convinced to do that, you'll wait outside this room and promise me you won't enter it again, no matter what, until I give you permission to do so."

With a triumphant grin, Eiji nodded. "I give you my word of honor, Tokio-san. I'll wait for you by the door of this room."

Reading the joy in the teenager's eyes, I felt weariness and worry warring in my heart. Oh, Eiji...Eiji, you don't understand, you don't have any idea how dangerous it is. And he would fight my decision if ever he felt I was trying to protect him, no matter how stupid the reaction was. Carefully, I kept all my emotions hidden from the boy kneeling beside me, and I allowed myself a loud sigh as I said with feigned exasperation, "Well, I suppose that's something. Now out you go, and tell Shinomori-san and his companion to come back in five minutes." Eiji's face contorted in a most ugly grimace as he heard my words, and I chuckled gently. He was obviously unhappy to be kept away while strangers would be allowed at my side. I understood him, but there was no way I'd let him stay so close to danger.

For danger there would be, even for talent-deprived outsiders.

Once the boy was gone, I quickly stripped and then donned the pure white ceremonial robes with care. While I did so, calm, eerie, came over me and the warrior's mask descended upon my face. The familiar warrior's mask, which had become a part of me since the days when I had learnt the Way of the Sword from Okita Soushi. In slow, precise movements, I folded my discarded hakama and jacket, then set them down by the room's door.

When Shinomori Aoshi and the old man came into the room, I bowed to them, and told them, "While I perform the exorcism, I need someone to be present. It may be circumstances will require that Makimachi-san be moved from this place in a moment's notice, and it may well be that I'll be unable to do it. This watch isn't without danger, and requires absolute stillness unless I tell you otherwise. Can you do this?"

Shinomori Aoshi's face lit with a faint smile, and the old man nodded solemnly, replying, "Yes." Smiling as well, he added, "Whoever taught you the way of the sword taught you well, Sumeragi-san. Your ken-ki is strong and proud."

I grinned at him, and then turned my back on both men to face the unconscious girl. Beyond her, I could see that the daylight was slowly waning. Jikan wa inai. Nodding to myself, I said in a soft whisper, "I'm going to start now."

Reaching down on my right, I took the ancient silver dagger that I used as a ritual knife, and with slow deliberation slashed a deep cut in my left thumb with its razor-sharp blade. Blood, bright red, flowed from the wound and dripped down in the small bow that I had carefully placed under my left hand.

Then I waited, watching in silence as a crimson pool formed bit by bit in the bowl. The pain was far away, unimportant. To be honest, I could hardly feel it. Once the recipient was half-filled, I took a clean piece of cloth which had been set right beside it, and quickly bound the wound. Then I gathered the pile of unmarked ofudas that I had placed before me and took a quill. Using my blood as ink, I traced words, sounds and patterns on the paper. Blood, which was almost never used, both because of its potency, and because of the risks tied to its use.

Because of the dark taint it cast on the Onmyouji's soul.

Unwilling to let that thought or the memory of my father's and the elders' warnings distract me, I stood up and placed my freshly made ofudas in a precise, intricate pattern around Makimachi Misao's unconscious body.

Hunger.

With a grim smile, I noted the violent shift in the web of darkness which was imprisoning the young woman. I know. One last time, I checked the correctness of my carefully drawn pattern, then I went back to kneel three steps away from it.

Eyes unfocused, I reached out in spirit towards the very special kekkai that I had created around Makimachi Misao. The kekkai I was a part of. Deep inside my heart, words came into being and rose in a soft chant. Inaudible bells chimed in the room as my ofudas came to life, their quiet, unreal echoes filling my being.

Now.

Freeing myself from the constraints of my body, I rose and called out to the pulsing web of darkness which was chaining up the young woman.

Come.

Once again there was a wild shift in the spell's pattern as it pulled towards me. Then I let a single syllable escape my lips, and braced in an attempt to ready myself for what I knew would come.

"Ha!"

Suddenly released, the spell quieted for a fraction of a second. Then it felt the kekkai that I had set for it.

Then it felt my blood.

Powerful Onmyouji blood.

Hunger.

The feeling, alien, invaded me, filling my whole being as the spell rushed towards me, all too happy to leave the all but drained girl alone.

And it struck.

I staggered under the assault, biting my lower lip until I tasted blood in order to refrain from crying out.

Focus, damn you.

Thanks to an effort of will, I centered myself and found balance deep inside my heart. Gathering my strength, I willed two words to be, and in a split second I changed the core of my kekkai. From welcoming haven, it became prison.

Fury exploded inside me.

Hatred pierced through my soul.

Fire.

Ice.

Devouring, famished.

Raging.

From very far away, I heard my own voice as I cried out in pain. Almost I recoiled when the web of darkness invaded my being, almost I set it free, revolted by the feeling of it so intimately woven with my own essence. And once again, the harsh, inhuman discipline of Onmyoujutsu training combined to the merciless teachings of Kenjutsu saved me.

No! I commanded it. In answer it struck with the violence of a tsunami, relentlessly battering at the kekkai which was now imprisoning it. I looked at it, then. I felt its heart, and shivered.

It was indeed a spell.

A spell which was an abomination that should never have been let loose on this world. The simple fact that it hadn't been able to leave the young woman it had been cast upon to feed on other, stronger preys was in itself a miracle. The control, the strength demanded to impose limits on it....

Whoever did this knew what he was doing. The thought came clear inside my mind, its threatening truth obvious. Whoever did this will come back to check on the result of his work.

I wished that I could close my eyes at this moment; I wished that I could forget all about this and sleep. Instead, I faced the wild, raging darkness, and reached deep within me. With a single spell which contained all the strength, all the life I had to give, I struck and extinguished it.

I blew on the candle of night.

Its dark light flickered as it fought my control.

It hurts.

For a terrible instant, its voice and mine, its essence and mine were truly one. It hurts! And then eventually, it died.

I waited for a few more seconds before letting go, and released the kekkai. All of a sudden, the flow of life ebbed away from me, withdrawing as if it had been pulled away by one of the great equinox tides. Abruptly drained of strength, I lost my balance and fell forward.

"Sumeragi-san!" I felt more than saw Shinomori Aoshi's hand reaching out to catch me.

"Don't touch me!" I hissed, slamming down my right hand to steady myself at the same time. Already, the great wave was coming back towards me. Wild mountain stream, it rushed through me and I focused my whole being for what would follow it.

The sakanagi.

The unavoidable side-effect to the casting of a spell, the backlash which unfailingly came back at the Onmyouji who had brought it into being and struck, unless one knew how to protect oneself. Reaching in my left sleeve's pocket, I took out another ofuda and held it right in front of me between forefinger and middle finger. My eyes set on the storm which was about to engulf me, I erected a shield around me and the three other persons present in the room.

A powerful gust of wind rushed past me, and then was gone.

With a small nod, I slowly released my breath and allowed myself a faint, weary smile as I said, "She should be all right now." Without turning to face the two men, I added, "Please, take her away to another room without disrupting the pattern that I created. It's likely she'll sleep until the morning, and will be very weak when she wakes up. She's young, she'll quickly regain strength."

From the corner of an eye, I saw the old man bow low, and then they both moved to follow my order in silence. Discarding their presence altogether, I stared fixedly at my ofudas on the floor without really seeing them.

Now, the hardest part remained.

I couldn't deny the understanding and knowledge I had gained as the dark spell had invaded my soul. The way it had been designed, the way it killed....

Slowly.

Tantalizingly.

It left just enough time to try and find the caster who, logically, should have been the only one able to unravel the tapestry of night that he had created. It was a miracle that Shinomori Aoshi had come to me and that I had accepted to help him. I knew my power, I knew all the priests and Onmyouji of Kyoto, and I knew that none of them could have countered the spell.

Just as the caster must have known.

It meant that Makimachi Misao either had been the target of an Onmyouji who enjoyed dispatching people in convoluted and flashy ways which left a place, no matter how small, for failure; or that she had never been the true target at all. Slowly, I shook my head. Either way, it was almost certain that the Onmyouji who had cast the spell would return to check to if it had done its job. And strong as he had to be...I could only hope he hadn't felt my intervention.

Once more, I stared at my carefully wrought pattern of ofudas, my teeth clenched. The kekkai that I had erected had masked the spell's extinction, and it had been hiding itself before that, barely perceptible only once one stepped into the Aoiya. Chances were good that the other Onmyouji was still unaware of my meddling into his affairs, which left me with a very amusing task: to fool him into thinking everything had happened according to his plan.

A piece of cake. A real piece of cake. The ironic thought echoed in my brain while I contemplated how hard and difficult it would be to create an illusion of the spell's feeling. I'd have to deliberately disturb the spiritual balance of this house.

The elders would have been outraged.

"Just as I thought, you're still here, Sumeragi-san." Shinomori Aoshi stepped into the room and stopped on my left, turning towards me as he added, "It's not over yet, is it?"

I looked into the Oniwabanshu leader's incredibly dark blue eyes, and saw a strange, nameless emotion lurking there, mixture of fear, fascination, refusal, anger, guilt, relief and others I didn't know. With a short nod in his direction, I replied, "I believe the Onmyouji who cast the spell will check on the result of his work." A humorless smile came to my lips and I added, "Since it should have finished draining Makimachi-san's life before the next dawn, I'll stand watch tonight, and give him what he wants to see and feel when he comes."

I didn't tell Shinomori Aoshi that in truth my task was done and that I was now free of my promise. I didn't tell him that I should have gone back home and left them to fend for themselves and deal alone with someone who wielded a power they couldn't defend themselves against.

"Oniwabanshu is in your debt, Sumeragi-san." I blinked, surprised, as the young man bowed deeply and then knelt on my left, saying quietly, "I'll keep this watch with you. In case of need, my twin kodachi will be on your side."

For a moment, I stared numbly at the man, amazed at the unearthly calm which had settled in an instant over him and was now emanating from him. Laughter, unbidden, came up my throat, and I somehow managed to stifle it. Nodding at Shinomori Aoshi in agreement, I thought that I'd be glad for his company.

The quiet song of the crickets had a definite hypnotic quality to it. I was conscious of it, coming from very far away. There was something unreal in the silent vigil that Shinomori Aoshi and I were keeping, it was as if the small room had stopped belonging to the world of men. Before me, the blood-marked ofudas were alive, and they were shaping a five-pointed star whose lines were shining a dull, dark red color.

The color of dried blood, once all life had fled.

Finding and reproducing the feeling of the spell I had broken had been surprisingly easy. Not only had it imprinted itself in my soul with more clarity than I had first thought, but what was more mimicking it was intoxicating in an odd, vaguely frightening way. I could hardly feel weariness seeping into my bones and subtly taking hold of my body. Had I been just a bit less attentive, I'd have felt wonderful, I'd have felt as if I could continue this little game of hide and seek until the end of time.

Drowning little by little into the dark spell's strangely attractive lure.

Slight breeze rising in the night.

Cricket song fading into silence.

Moonlight splashing the room with unearthly light.

Tensing, I focused my mind on the deception I had wrought with the utmost care for the other Onmyouji. Before me, my ofudas flared to life as an alien presence brushed against the kekkai that they defined.

I am death.

I am sleep.

I am hunger.

I am thirst.

I am bound.

Those feelings rose within me and I willed them to spread in the room. Far away, my body shivered as my spell-self and the Onmyouji's shikigami touched.

So, he chose to allow it to happen. The faint thought lingered in the air, mixture of astonishment, disappointment and amusement. Utterly still, I waited. I was death, I was sleep, I was hunger, I was thirst and I was bound by the presence's will. I was its spell, its creation, and although I was craving for the life flowing in all the inhabitants of this house, although I was longing for it in ways no human mind could comprehend, I couldn't move. I wasn't free.

I was angry.

I was furious and wild, but I didn't fight the control of the one who had created me, for I knew his strength, and I wanted to--

Begone now.

They weren't truly words, they were the Onmyouji's pure will, carried by the wind and by his shikigami. There was an eerie feeling of affection and gentleness in the breeze as it rose in Makimachi Misao's room, gentleness as the caster broke his own spell and bade it return to the nothingness whence it had come.

In the absolute silence which had enshrouded the room, an arrow of moonlight pierced through the heart of what the Onmyouji thought was his web of darkness.

Pierced through the heart of my kekkai.

And my spell-self died when the candle flame that I had become was gently and mercilessly blown out.

Like a puppet whose strings would have been cut, I fell backwards, in a slow motion, as my own heart stopped beating. For a fraction of eternity, I watched the room's ceiling slowly swinging before my eyes, and then my body hit the wooden floor.

Not yet. My eyes empty, I waited as my hair came undone and spread around me on the floor. Time had frozen, held between life and death, night and dawn.

Then the alien presence left the room as the shikigami faded away, called back by its master who must be satisfied by now.

Now. I blinked, releasing the tight control that I had kept over myself; and pain rushed through me as coughs raked my body.

Playing with your life is a dangerous gambit, Tokio. I tried to laugh, but a pitiful croak was the only sound that managed to pass through my lips. Dear spirits, but my father hadn't exaggerated when he had given me that piece of advice. Now that I knew the true cost of my actions, I was far from sure that I'd ever accept to run such risks again. Of course, the other Onmyouji was now satisfied with the knowledge that his spell had done its job and had been properly extinguished, clearing the last hint which might have led back to him, but deluding him into believing that....

"Sumeragi-san!" A weak smile came crept up my lips when I heard the low, almost perfectly masked urgency in Shinomori Aoshi's voice. The whole thing hadn't lasted for more than a few seconds, and yet the warrior had felt death strike.

Leaning the palm of my hands on the wood, I pushed myself up and managed to reach a sitting position. Between short, labored breaths, I told the leader of Oniwabanshu, "I'll be all right...don't worry." My body wanted nothing more than to fall down and drown into unconsciousness, but I couldn't yield to that desperate need. I clenched my teeth once more and slowly stood up. Curse it.... Hands rested on my shoulders and steadied me as I was about to lose my balance.

"Is it over now?" Shinomori Aoshi's quiet whisper reached me and somehow registered in my brain.

With an almost imperceptible shake of my head, I replied, "No." Before me, the blood-marked ofudas had returned to being mere pieces of paper with weird kanji written on them. Now that that spell had been broken....

Clouds passed over the full moon.

Shrugging off my companion's unwanted help, I willed my legs to bear me and staggered out of the room like a drunken woman.

"Eiji isn't here anymore." I heard the words, and a distant part of me recognized my own voice. I leaned the palm of my hand against the wall, and made a short pause in the middle of the stairs.

"One of us accompanied him back to the Sumeragi mansion just before sundown. We figured you'd rather have that boy safe and out of the way." I gave a faint nod at Shinomori Aoshi's words, vaguely relieved to know that Eiji had never been in danger of coming into contact with the other Onmyouji in any way. All of a sudden I blinked, realizing that I was losing my grip on reality, and started down the stairs again.

Walk, stupid. Eventually, we reached the porch which opened on the Aoiya's inner garden. Drinking in the light of the waning moon, I lifted my head up and told the Oniwabanshu leader, "Thank you. Now I need to be alone."

For a moment, I thought he'd protest, but a few seconds later I heard the lightest of sounds as a panel was slid shut behind me. Then silence reclaimed dominion over the garden.

Absolute.

Time.

It hurled down on me, striking with devastating force. Jaw set, I braced myself and reached for one of my last ofudas, holding it right before me. I focused all the strength, all the will that I had left, and erected a barrier of protection around me.

In a fraction of a second, my ofuda lighted up in ethereal flames and then dissipated into ashes, consumed by the sakanagi's raw power. Free to come back at the spell caster, the backlash thundered down my being.

It's not so bad, was the bemused thought which came to my abused mind. And in truth, it wasn't. My shield had absorbed most of the sakanagi's force, or it would have broken me like a doll.

My knees buckled and I fell down on the porch's wooden floor, ever so slowly. On instinct I reached out to the closest pole that supported the porch's roof and held on to it as if it had been some kind of anchor.

My anchor to reality and this world.

My mind a blank, I rested my head against the hard wood of the pole and numbly stared away into emptiness.

End of Part 3.

Notes

Hakama: to make it simple: wide breeches which were worn only by men after the 17th century. During the Meiji era, female students and teachers started wearing them again. The hakama are slashed on the side, have five folds in the front an a single fold on the rear. They're held by a belt tied around the waist, called koshi-ita.
Onegaishimasu: Please, I beg you.
Shikigami: all Onmyoujutsu wielders enter in harmony with the "spirit world" or "world of the invisible", and have a counterpart in this "world". That's what the shikigami is. It has no will, no personality, no existence of its own, it is the reflection of the Onmyouji, a projection of him/herself. Its shape and nature thus reflect a certain truth of the Onmyouji. Tokio's is a raven, not a crow. A raven because she has a dark side to her, in terms of moods and that, but there is a nobility and strength that I associate with the raven which are there too. Shikigami can also be small or not so small spirits summoned by an Onmyouji in a spell to do whatever he or she requires.
Ken-ki: the spirit of the warrior's blade, hence the warrior's spirit.
Jikan wa inai: there is no time, hence, time is running out.
Onmyoujutsu: to make matters simple, it's Eastern magic, which is related to the spiritual (either spirits of the dead (ghosts), or simply spirits, kami, etc.), to the concepts of yin and yang, and to the interaction of the five elements. Hence the function of a family like the Sumeragi which are perceived as exorcists who rid people or places of curses, free lost souls, etc. Yin and Yang implying balance between two "opposite" concepts/forces/etc, in Tokyo Babylon there are two lines of Onmyoujutsu wielders: the Sumeragi, who help, disperse curses, heal, protect, and the Sakurazuka (whose title is the Sakurazukamori), who uses his or her talent to kill.
Onmyouji: Onmyoujutsu wielder.
Ofuda: the ofuda is a small rectangle of paper on which are written characters (kanji or perhaps even Sanskrit, never saw a true one, so I can only guess what's written on them) representing sounds. From my small understanding, spells are cast using those ofudas (although some Onmyoujutsu wielders don't use ofudas, but don't ask me why, they must have another "device", or way to channel their power) and speaking out the sounds of the spells the right way (this is a personal view, once again, I'm no magic expert ^^;)
Kekkai: the kekkai is a barrier, a spiritual shield of sorts which seals everything inside it completely out of the outside world. What is inside a kekkai isn't part of the world, in a manner of speaking, and so cannot interact with the normal world.
Sakanagi: the backlash effect caused by spell casting. When an Onmyouji casts a spell, s/he must always ward him/herself against its backlash. It's an unavoidable consequence of spell-casting: a part of your spell will come back and strike at you, wherever you are, unless you take precautions to protect yourself and those around you. The means of protection will vary depending on the caster. There are VERY nasty ways of protecting oneself, like using substitutes and sacrificing other living beings whom the backlash will strike instead of you. Tokio uses meditation, rigid practices of discipline (fasting, ritual baths of cold waters, etc.), and sets wards to protect herself.

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