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He always had something to do, some appearance to keep up with. He was a scholar, a priest, a lover. He was someone of esteemed social standing, born lowly like a maggot, but ascended high above like a dragon. He climbed this way, eager for recognition, eager for affection.
And yet, one meeting was all it needed.
It was a chance encounter. Had he not been an able priest, he would not have met her. Had he not been strong and powerful enough, he might have not lived long enough to properly look at her face.
Her face - a face of a soul that battled onwards, even when strained with tears, rage, frustration, disappointment, so on, so forth. Her face, never doused in white, but always accented rather enchantingly in red and purple. Her face, with judgmental eyes of royal purple, with lips playing a coy smile. Her face. The face of his favorite.
She. The one. And the only. The tough, troubling bearer of reverse reishi.
Reverse reishi was a rather bothersome ability, on par with that of reishi, maybe even stronger. Reverse reishi penetrated a person's thoughts with the bearer's, invading the victim's minds, ensnaring their hearts and souls until rational thought left them. A stronger form of the ability could grant some form of glamour, even fantasies for one or more affected victims.
He'd heard of it, but he hadn't had his chance to deal with it. He foolishly thought he wouldn't be affected, for he had reishi his whole life.
He had assumed wrong, for she had a very powerful form of reverse reishi.
He had merely stepped foot in the village she dwelled upon, but he already felt the heavy aura of her ability. A procession of onis walked through town, and while everyone - human and shaman alike - saw this strange festival, they did not see the inhabitants or their visitors. It was not a fantasy, nor a glamour, but a nightmare.
How interesting.
As he and his entourage made their way to her house, he tried to search for her voice in the thousand trembling prayers of her neighbors. In the sea of thought, rumors flew here and there. There were those who claimed that she was cursed by a powerful shaman while she was still in the womb of her mother. There were those who said that she was an ugly hag, desperately pleading for attention and cursing everyone who dared oppose her. And there were those who whispered, 'Her brother embraced her against her will, so she ate up his mind, his dreams, and his future!'
The priest smiled to himself, for the purpose of his visit was no ordinary woman, indeed.
Even his entourage thought so. The guards and servants he had hired turned tail and huddled together, frightened by her aura. The priest sighed and went on his journey alone, countering the gravity of the woman's broken heart and troubled mind with sutras and charms. He had no idea yet how to pacify this deluge, but calmly and gracefully, he persisted.
The road he saw ahead was a road seemingly alike to what people thought of Mt. Osore. He paid no mind to the vivid, obscene, bloodstained imagery around him. He closed his eyes and continued forward.
Gusts of wind came his way. The skies foretold him it would be a fine day; therefore, this must be part of the illusion. So strong it was an illusion that he felt whips lashing against his skin. He fought the urge to touch them, to stop and nurse his wounds, for this was all fake. Like the people that surrounded him back in the capital.
The stench of blood and disease and embers filled his nose. The heat raised. Slashing noises came here and there. None of those are true. None. Not even the people that supposedly were part of the supposed gruesome tasks. My, my. What a challenge.
Then screams occupied his mind. Screams. Cries. Voices. Go away. I don't need you. Go away.
And amid them, a whisper. If someone could save me, and forgive me, then I could finally afford my first sliver of that thing they call happiness.
The priest took a deep breath and concentrated on that tiny voice. He marched as gently and as dignified as he could. His own shikigami shivered behind him the closer they came to the woman. Just a bit more. Just a bit more and he would see, for the first time in his life, the face of his dear Crane Princess.
If you can see through me… please. Come. Then you might just save me.
Weariness. Confusion. Exhaustion. Her own feelings blurred with his. Perseverance. Hope. Desperation. Desires to push people away. Desires for touch and affection.
The priest did not know when or how, but he was sent to his knees. Her soul leaked into his, and it was so overwhelming a sensation. It was as if he was accepting a whole new person into his being.
Ah. So that was what he needed to do. To stop her soul from leaking. With eyes still closed, he crawled forward with renewed vigor. He clung to that light within himself, to the voice that pleaded in the darkness.
“I know how to save you,” he declared.
And the forces of the universe smiled upon him.
A hand took his. It was a warm hand, and around him, the noises died off. All there was left were whispers, joy, sadness, amusement… and a gentle silence. The priest opened his eyes, and before him was she, the Crane Princess! In black and white and red robes like the crane, the lady who suffered from reverse reishi, with wisteria blooms swaying beautifully behind her, and the ethereal lilac of the flowers matched her grateful eyes.
With a voice that lulled like a nostalgic melody, and smiling lips that wickedly tempted his heart, she said, “Truly, what can someone like you do for me, Asakura Hao-sama?” I have been waiting for you all this time. Why only now? Why? Had you been here all this time, I would have not had to suffer.
He smirked. “It is my utmost pleasure to meet you, Hane-no-Tsubasa, my lady.” He knew the true nature of her words.
Likewise, my good Sir.
She pulled him up, and he gazed at her. A woman who did not strictly follow the fashion of her time, nor did not care for how others thought of her. How bold! How brazen! He knew from the vibrance of her soul, despite the heavy weight it bore, that she was of a true heart. He reached for her hair and slid his fingers through the silken strands.
“I'll heal you,” he declared, then pressed a kiss to her hair. “In a moment.”
“Your moment ends now.” Please take as much time as you'd like. “Get it over with, Hao-sama.” In your hands, I shall finally find peace.
He almost regretted having to take her reverse reishi away, to seal part of her soul in the beads that hold some of her hair up high, to silence the excited voices that filled his heart. She would be the only one whose heart and soul he would have willingly lost the privilege to hear. And once the ritual was done, she declared to retire to bed early, but her eyes hinted at disappointment and longing.
“I shall come for you another time, my lady,” the priest said as he took her into his arms. “The night is still too young. But I promise you, one day, you will be my wife.”
And she snorted in a very unladylike way. How endearingly quirky! “Don't speak nonsense, Hao-sama. You have heard of the rumors.” So she said, but she was the Crane Princess. The cranes, known for their loyalty, would not deceive him.
"The rumors are untrue... but you, you are real."
So gently, so gently, the priest pressed a kiss upon her head, and she warmly welcomed every single touch he'd pepper her with. Regretfully, the two parted, their hands longing for each other.
But alas, this was enough of an adventure for the day. If he was too hasty, it would ruin the moment.
No other meeting, no other errand, no other woman could compare to one such as she. If he had suffered all his life just for this one moment, then… he was truly fortunate for the chance he was given. To persist through her pain, to waddle through the sea of her sighs, they were nothing compared to the joy and warmth of arriving upon the magnificent crane who welcomed him so dearly under the wisteria.
The Great Onmyouji Asakura Hao met his favorite wife that fateful day. There would be more tales with him and the Crane Princess, but those would also be for another time.