Chapter Text
Splish.
A ripple broke out across the water as the tail struck the surface, far from its target. Frowning, the boy readied his kagune and tried again.
Splish.
Again the fat catfish darted nimbly away from the spearhead of the serpent’s path. This was beginning to get annoying. With all the force a child could muster, he raised his bikaku and launched a ferocious attack on the pond, striking the water over and over and kicking up a torrent that gurgled over the pond walls.
Splash splash splash splash splash splash splash.
As the catfish that were caught in the onslaught slowly rose to the surface of the water, a gleam of hope was shining in the boy’s red eyes as he scanned the water’s surface to find the old king of the pond floating amongst the red lotus flowers – only to find him swimming along merrily beyond his reach. His face grew red with fury, and with a stamp of his foot he sunk into a sulk on the ground, before he heard footsteps ringing out on the cobbles of the courtyard.
“Oh – Tatara, what are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
Tatara turned to the sound of his brother’s voice. Yan, never one for smiling, was looking down at him beneath his short fringe of white hair with an especially serious look on his square, pale face. Tatara could not help but look up in curiosity. Instead of his usual business suit, he was in his long white cloak, the one with broad sleeves edged with red flames. In their Yangshuo country retreat he was free to wear whatever he wanted, but he rarely wore it outside of ceremony or official Chi She Lian business. Tatara felt a little underdressed in his green pyjamas. Still, his brother was ten years his elder and a grown-up, and he knew better than to hassle him with silly questions.
“I couldn’t get to sleep. I was bored, and I never get to use my kagune in the city.”
Yan slowly nodded his head. “And Fei? Where is she?”
“In bed.”
“She didn’t want to come with you?”
“She did, but I said she couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“She likes the catfish.”
Yan cast a dead eye over the floating corpses in the pond. “And you don’t, I take it?”
“I don’t hate them. I just like killing them.” Tatara wiped his messy white fringe out of his eyes as his face crumpled back into a grimace. “But I can’t get the fat one. I don’t get it. He’s fat and old, so why is he so fast?”
Yan stepped onto the grass and leaned over the pond. Shortly, he spotted the culprit. “Oh, yes, him. He’s been in this household longer than I have. I remember sitting exactly where you are now when I was your age, studying how the fish moved. He was not quite so obese back then, nor so ancient, but I remember thinking something similar before I had a – a minor revelation of sorts, I suppose. The oldest and fattest fish in the pond would have to be the fastest, in order to be the oldest and fattest. Do you understand?”
Tatara looked at Yan with the sense of confused wonderment he often felt around him. “No.” He admitted sheepishly. Yan’s eyes began to lazily follow the evasive fish through the water.
“You see, Tatara, the fat fish becomes fat by eating the most feed, correct? Then how does it get to the feed before the other fish? By outswimming them. Likewise, the old fish grows old by swimming away from danger. You are far from the first bored child to try hunting our little pets.”
Tatara’s pensive face took the form of a deep frown. “So I won’t be able to hit it?”
“Come now, I never said that. How have you been aiming at him? Wait, let me guess. You’ve been relying on brute force, haven’t you?”
Tatara’s mouth had shut as soon as he opened it. He did not like it when Yan read him like that. It made him feel stupid.
“A strong kagune is a valuable thing, and without it, we Ghouls have little chance of catching any prey more serious than your average commuter. You have a powerful kagune, Tatara, and you should take pride in that. However, it is not enough to take down the craftiest of foes. That requires another discipline altogether.” Yan tapped the side of his head as he said “Patience.”
“It’s no fun if I have to wait around.” Tatara complained.
“You may not always have the luxury of killing for sport alone. Sometimes we must kill to keep what is precious to us. You are a child now, but first and foremost, you are a part of Chi She Lian. Never forget that.”
Yan’s lazy glance at the fish hardened into a penetrating stare. Tatara felt uneasy watching Yan become so still, as if his brother had frozen in time, until all of a sudden he saw his brother’s eyes change hue and felt something rushed past him. Tatara doubled backwards, and heard a light splish.
The boy stared up at his brother. The red irises shining over his pitch black eyes were cool. Protruding from underneath his cloak a thick crimson tail was swaying slowly back and forth, its end sharpened to a point. Tatara wondered when he had released his kagune, but then realised the more important matter at hand. He shot up, clutched the stone wall of the pond with a tight grasp, trembled with anticipation, and stared at the water as something broke the surface. The fat fish was turned upside down and floated on the water’s edge, motionless.
“You-you got him!” Tatara’s eyes shone wide and unbelieving. “Brother, that’s amazing! Even though he was the fastest, you got him in one go.” He turned to his older brother, awestruck. “How did you do it?”
Yan’s face did not betray a smile. Yan’s face never betrayed anything, but if Tatara had to guess, he would have said that if anything, his brother looked somewhat sad. “Simply a matter of technique.” He shrugged. “Still, I could never have brought him down in his prime. He was a victim of his own success, I suppose. I may not be the oldest and fattest fish in my pond, but a rebel is always an upstart before he is a king. That, and I think that I would be right in saying that Ghouls are substantially stronger than fish.” Yan brought his finger to his chin in a manner of mock pensiveness.
Laughter did not come easily to Tatara, but there was something about Yan’s dead serious face as he said this that made him let out a light chuckle. “Then I want to be a king someday too.” Tatara boldly declared, lips twisting upwards into a wicked smile. “And I won’t get hit. No matter who tries to get me, I’ll always dodge.”
“Ah, it seems I have created a young rival for myself then. It should keep my blade from becoming dull, at least.” He paused, and gave Tatara a long, searching look. “Do you mean what you say, Tatara? Do you really wish to rise to the top?”
“Yes!” He nodded aggressively. “I’ll be the strongest Ghoul in China!”
“And do you mean to do your duty by Chi She Lian? One day, the organisation will fall to me. That day may even be very soon. When that day comes, can I trust you to be my kagune?”
Tatara faltered. “Your kagune?”
“I must be the face of not only Chi She Lian, but also of the Huo family. As you put it, I will have many people trying to ‘get’ me. I need a subtle, fast and strong agent of my own flesh and blood to dispose of them before they can dispose of me. If I am to be the head of Chi She Lian, I want you to be its kagune. Will you accept this proposal?”
Yan had used a lot of big and complicated words, but the message was clear – Yan was placing his faith in him, and that was something he did not give out easily. “I would be honoured.” He readily affirmed, in the manner his parents had taught him.
Yan gave him a last long stare and finally breathed out a quiet sigh. “I was going to send you to bed, Tatara, but I think it might be better if you are here to see this. Father and mother are inside?” Yan tilted his head towards the manor house at the end of the courtyard.
Tatara nodded. “Did you want to talk to them, brother?” His face suddenly filled with dread. “Don’t tell them about the fish, please. They’ll beat me. Say it was a kitchen boy.”
Yan seemed vaguely surprised at that. “You’ve no need to worry on that count, Tatara, I swear it. Are they awake?”
Tatara shook his head. “I think they’re sleeping.”
“Sleeping. Yes, they would be.” An edge of ice had crept into his voice, but it softened back to its usual hardness when he turned to Tatara again. “Wait for me here. If you feel as though you are in immediate danger, retreat to the outer courtyard, but otherwise do not move and do not turn away. Do you understand?”
Tatara was beginning to feel a little nervous, but he did not want to let Yan see, so he said, perhaps a little too boldly, “Loud and clear.”
“Until then.” Yan’s hand passed over Tatara’s head as he talked to the armed guards and headed into the manor house. Tatara watched as he disappeared behind the door, crumpled his white cloak together in his hands and stood silently, waiting.
For the longest time, there was no change in the manor house. Tatara was beginning to feel a little bored, and wanted to go back to his fish game, but Yan had told him not to turn away. He sat cross-legged on the ground and stared at the house, allowing himself to get lost in childish thoughts. He wondered if Fei would snitch on him about the fish. She wouldn’t though, she knows that if she did she wouldn’t get away with it. Tatara gave a self-satisfied smirk. A ‘king’, he said? Nobody could tell a king what to do. A king could do whatever he wanted. If he had that kind of power, what could he do with it?
“Fire! Fire!” Came a shout from inside the house, bringing Tatara’s ruminations to an abrupt halt and replacing them with a sudden dread. The manor house was made entirely from wood. Father, mother and Yan were in there. He needed to help them. He needed to do something quickly; so why wouldn’t his legs move? No matter how he tried to move them, they just wouldn’t budge. What was happening?
The guards left the doorway and sprinted into the house in a mad rush to save their masters. No-one noticed the child standing petrified in the courtyard. The fire was spreading - he could already see the flames escaping the windows and setting the front of the house ablaze. Why couldn’t he move? He just needed to move his legs forward, that was all. But…but Yan had told him to stay right there. Even if he could move, Yan had given him an order not to. He could see red, orange and yellow bursting up in a voracious fury around his parents’ house, cackling with malice at the dying screams of the wood. Great plumes of black smoke wafted towards him from the windows, and Tatara managed to manoeuvre an elbow in front of his mouth so he wouldn’t choke, although his eyes still began to sting. Yan had said if he was in ‘immediate danger’ he should run to the outer courtyard. Tatara wasn’t quite sure what the word ‘immediate’ meant, but he knew Yan was saying that he shouldn’t run unless he was really badly in danger. The fire was scary, but it was only on the house. The courtyard was stone, and Tatara knew enough of science to know that it couldn’t spread any further. So Tatara resigned himself to his semi-paralysis, and forced himself to watch as the flames grew louder, larger and more luminous while shouts and unearthly screams echoed from inside.
Tatara didn’t like this at all. The scent of burning wood permeated his nostrils and in the light warmth the fire emanated from his safe distance, it would have felt just like being in front of a hearth if he did not know his family was mixed in amongst the coals. He felt so useless, but he didn’t know what he should do, and before he knew it, he was crying. It was the smoke. It had to be the smoke. He wiped his tears from his cheeks as soon as they spilt, knowing how disappointed Father, Mother and Yan would be if they saw him.
…Would they ever see him again?
The guards had not returned. No-one who went into that house all that time ago had come out of it, and through the dissipating smoke, Tatara could see the manor had become a burning wreck. The upstairs had caved in on the downstairs, and the roof had collapsed to diagonal slant, slowly falling through the structure of the house. Tatara had long stopped crying. He could now only stare at the fallen building with empty confusion. Somehow, he thought this might be his fault.
The silence was broken when for the first time in too long Tatara could spy a silhouette inside the house shambling towards the doorway. It was a tall, strong figure, and Tatara knew who it was before Yan stepped out into the open air, broken, bruised and bleeding. Tatara still couldn’t move. He found he couldn’t even speak. Yan let out some fierce coughs, and then said something unintelligible behind a hoarse, smoke-choked voice. He extended a hand towards Tatara and repeated it.
“…Yan?” Tatara managed in a quiet whisper.
Yan spoke the unknown phrase again, and again, and again until Tatara could understand it, and still after that. He said it like a mantra as Tatara helped him move across the cobbled stones to the end of the courtyard, desperately holding Yan’s full weight over his frail body, as he struggled to make sense of the world around him.
“It’s over. It’s over. It’s over.”