Chapter Text
It was only after the others had made it into the house that Usagi noticed his younger brother was missing.
“Kenichi?” he called. He peered down the hall to see if Kenichi had sneaked inside ahead of them. No sign of him.
He turned to his little twin sisters. Riko moved the same way she always did – as if everything were a race. She shed her outer kimono and tossed it in a heap on the storage bench, then hopped at the doorway as if waiting for permission to dash inside and move on to the next phase of the evening. Mari remained her typical, methodical self. She folded her own kimono neatly before laying it in the storage bench. Then she performed the same task for her sister’s crumpled clothing.
“Did either of you see where Kenichi went?” Usagi asked.
Riko giggled and covered her mouth with her hands, shaking her head like it was a game to keep the secret. Mari, however, pointed back out to the gardens from which they’d just come. “Wait for me in your room while I go get him,” said Usagi.
The girls hurried off down the hallway, no doubt glad to have some free moments in their regimented day. Usagi trotted back outside, hoping Kenichi was nearby and that this wouldn’t delay them too much.
He stepped off the low wooden porch and onto the smoothly-raked earth that marked the garden pathways. Behind him stretched the shadow of the main estate: a low, sprawling building of polished wood and gently sloped rooftops. Surrounding it was a myriad of walkways, hedgerows, and orchards, all dotted with smaller structures that spread out from the central house in winding, symmetrical paths. From here Usagi could see the gentle curve of a low hill and, at its peak, a latticed gazebo. Beyond that, a few guest houses dotted the estate’s wall, each as measured intervals.
The sun was just starting its descent, painting the rim of the horizon deep orange-red, like an overripe mandarin fruit. Overhead the sky was already condensing into the gemstone blue that always preceded night. Still, there was time before Usagi and his siblings had to be present for the evening meal with Mother and Father. But he had found that trying to wrangle Kenichi and the little twins always took longer than it should. Getting them cleaned up and presentable and still having time to prepare himself was more than a chore, especially since he didn’t have his older siblings’ help anymore.
It wasn’t their fault, Usagi knew. As a first-lady-in-training, Chizu wasn’t allowed to perform any duties that were required of a proper heir. She spent her days indoors with Mother, studying dusty scrolls and spells.
As for Usagi’s older brother Ishida, he had tried hard to fill the role, despite his deteriorating health. But Usagi had always had to step in to cover his fainting spells, or make excuses to Mother and Father when Ishida missed meals because of fatigue. He tried to say that Ishida was spending extra time training or meditating, preparing for his rites to become Chuunin. In truth, what Ishida was really doing was resting. Recovering from the simplest tasks that drained his strength and left his breathing weak and shallow.
For a while, they’d kept up the facade. Until it was time for Ishida to receive the clan markings.
Every Miyamoto leader wore the crest on their back. Tattooed in sacred ink and rendered by the artisan healers over the course of several months, the sigil eventually became luminescent, woven into the skin and fur. It was a shining reminder of a clan leader’s heritage and station. Ishida was incapable of withstanding the needle rituals.
The draw of the very first line had led to so much bleeding that it had almost gotten out of control. In spite of that, both Ishida and Mother had tried to insist that the work continue. It was the artisan who had finally called an end to it, saying that if he persisted it would likely wind up killing Ishida.
Mother had banished the artisan for that little act of defiance. Afterward, Father had taken Usagi aside.
“It falls to you,” he said. “Have you been keeping up your training?”
“Of course, Father,” said Usagi.
“And already doing half of Ishida’s tasks as well, I suppose.”
Usagi had faltered at that. The last thing he wanted was to cast blame on his sibling. “Don’t lie for the sake of someone else’s failing.” Father had kept his gaze straight. He never did seem to be able to look directly at Usagi, or for very long. “It’s unbecoming, and it undermines the strength of the clan. Now answer me. Have you already been taking on Ishida’s tasks?”
“Yes, sir,” said Usagi.
“Then it will not be that much more effort for you to take his place fully.” If Usagi was being honest, he would say that it was easier than before. He was more than familiar with the chores and tasks, and had been minding his younger siblings already. Now that he was able to do it freely, instead of keeping up appearances for Ishida’s sake, things ran even more smoothly.
So while Ishida now passed all his time in his bedroom, barred from training or other strenuous activities, Usagi became the Chuunin in training.
Although it was difficult and more pressure than an eleven-year-old in any clan would typically bear, Usagi was proud to do it. It was a rare occurrence for the third child of a clan to be named successor. He looked forward to the next few months, when his own clan marking would finally be finished and he would complete the ceremony of succession. Then he would spend all his days with Father, learning the languages of the other clans, memorizing their traditions and customs. He would be allowed to travel to the lands of their loyal vassals, and act as an emissary for keeping the peace.
But until then, his most important chore was to look after his younger siblings. And right now, one was missing.
“Kenichi!” Usagi cupped his hands and hollered.
He received no response except the rustling of leaves and the wave of scrubby branches from a bush a few yards down the garden path. But there was no wind, and as Usagi peered closer at the shuddering hedge, he saw the bright yellow of a familiar kimono between the leaves.
Usagi rolled his eyes. No doubt Kenichi thought he was obscured from sight simply because he’d crawled under a few fronds.
“I see you, Keni,” said Usagi.
The bush ceased all motion.
“Come on, we can’t be late.” Usagi hopped off the pathway and approached the brush, pushing aside the branches. As he did, he caught sight of a flash of metal as Kenichi stuffed something into his sleeve. “What are you hiding?”
Kenichi looked up through the curly bangs across his forehead. “Nothing.”
Usagi sighed. “Don’t lie.”
“It’s a prize I won from a game.”
“Kenichi, I know you have fun playing with the twins, but you’re getting too old for that now, especially at dinner. No more sneaking in toys, all right?”
“It’s not a toy!”
“Even so. Mother will notice, and then we’ll all be in trouble.” Usagi held out his hand expectantly.
Kenichi pouted, but reluctantly withdrew the item from his sleeve.
To Usagi’s shock, it was a dagger. A wakizashi. Polished and sharpened, with deep carvings along its handle in the shape of a clan seal.
“Where did you get this?” Usagi turned the weapon up and down, trying to figure out which way was upright for the symbol. It was unfamiliar to him.
“My friend gave it to me.”
“Who?”
“A wolf pup.” Kenichi waved behind him, across the gardens and toward one of the guest houses. “He’s visiting with his father’s dignitaries.”
Usagi followed his gesture. Sure enough, one cottage near a far gate unfurled smoke from its chimney, and its windows were lit with lanterns for the evening. Not an uncommon sight, since Father met with his vassals on a regular basis. Maintaining control of more than fifty lesser clans meant that the Miyamoto estate had visitors nearly every day of the year. “You know we’re not supposed to disturb the guests,” said Usagi.
“He was the one who talked to me, first!” said Kenichi. “He was bored, and wanted to play a game.”
“You played with knives?” Usagi bristled. “Kenichi, you could hurt yourself! What if you’d cut your hand, or lost a finger?!”
“Not that kind of game, I’m not stupid!” said Kenichi. “He had a set of wager dice, and we played Highs and Lows. He bet his dagger, and I won.”
Usagi frowned. Whether or not his little brother had won the blade in a fair game didn’t matter. A custom-carved weapon was never parted with lightly.
For a brief moment, Usagi debated taking the weapon inside and handing it over to his Father after dinner. If the visiting clan was staying in the guest house for the night, then surely there would be a meeting with them tomorrow when the wakizashi could be returned.
Then again, trivial things like this weren’t something that Father should have to deal with. And besides, wasn’t Usagi responsible for keeping his siblings out of trouble? Wouldn’t this fall under the jurisdiction of a Chuunin-in-training, to keep from pestering the clan leader with paltry tasks?
The guest house wasn’t far. There was enough daylight left, and the twins could keep themselves occupied for a few extra minutes.
“You need to return it,” said Usagi.
“But he said I could keep it!”
“Did he wear any markings, like an heir?”
“...no.”
“Then he had no right to give away anything from his clan,” said Usagi. “Come on. You can explain and apologize, and it will make amends with the wolf clan before any conflict comes of it.”
Kenichi pouted.
Usagi hunkered down beside him. “Think of how pleased Mother and Father will be. Especially if you broker a favor with a visiting clan.”
Kenichi’s ears pricked up ever-so-slightly. “A favor?”
“Of course. You’re returning a high-ranking member’s weapon. They’ll be very grateful to have it back, and they’ll likely give you an honor token.”
“And I could be the one to present it to Mother and Father?”
“Only if you’re the one who receives it.”
Kenichi was on his feet. “We should go before it gets dark.”
“Agreed,” said Usagi. He smiled, pleased at how quickly he’d gotten Kenichi to change his mind. He already felt as if he could be good at mediating disputes and dispelling conflict. Kenichi snatched back the wakizashi and started down the path at a jog. Usagi caught up within a few strides, and together they loped easily across the Miyamoto Estate.
The gardens were widespread and sprawling for a reason – running was something that was enjoyable and second nature to all rabbit yokai. What would be the point of an estate whose pathways were too short for a daily run?
As they sprinted, Usagi found his gaze drawn to the wall as they followed its curve. Too tall for even a rabbit to scale in one jump, it was made of smooth, pale stone that turned gold with every sunrise and purple with each evening. Right now, the setting sun reflected off its polished bricks, changing patterns and hue with each step Usagi took. He wondered, not for the first time, how soon he would be far enough along in his Chunin training to be permitted to leave home. Traveling to visit allied clans was a privilege that only Miyamoto leaders were granted. He would be the first - and probably only - of his brothers and sisters to see the outside world.
If he could prove that he was capable, that is. After all, it was his father who had ordered the construction of the wall in the first place, to ensure that everyone lived in safety and that any visiting dignitaries remained under the watchful eye of the Miyamoto clan during their stay.
Maybe Kenichi accidentally breaching the rules of conduct could be turned into a good thing. This might be one of the first steps that Usagi could take to prove his capability. It was only a matter of minutes to reach the guest house. Kenichi was still enamored with the prospect of obtaining a favor, clearly, because he showed no hesitation in leaping onto the low porch and rapping at the door.
From inside, two low voices suddenly ceased their conversation. Heavy footsteps approached the entry, and the wooden door slung open.
A hulking gray wolf, garbed in the leather armor of a foot soldier, leered down at Kenichi. “Whadda you want?”
Kenichi took a step back, all his enthusiasm suddenly gone. “Um. I came to…see Jei, because, um…”
“Spit it out, you jabbering rabbit.”
Instead, Kenichi took another step back.
Usagi hopped up beside him quickly. There was no reason for the wolf to be quite so rude, but he could also understand how travelers might be tired and wish to be left in peace at the end of the day. If they could resolve everything quickly, all the better. The wolf clan could get their full evening of undisturbed rest, and Usagi could get back to taking care of his tasks before dinner.
“It’s all right,” Usagi said quietly to Kenichi. “Would you like me to do it?” In response, Kenichi eagerly pressed the wakizashi into Usagi’s hands.
Holding the blade respectfully in both hands with its flat edge turned out as a sign of peace, Usagi bowed. “Forgive our intrusion, honored guests, but we wished to return this item to your young lord.”
Instead of reciting the proper platitude of indebtedness and making a gracious bow of reception in return, the wolf snatched the wakizashi from Usagi’s hands.
“This is Lord Jei’s personal steel.” The yokai peered at it, and his eyes narrowed. “How did you get this? Did you take it from him? You grubby little flat-footed thief!” “What?” said Usagi. “No! I didn’t steal anything! My little brother just–” “So he stole it?”
The wolf suddenly reached past Usagi and grabbed Kenichi by the scruff. With one hand, he lifted Kenichi up off his feet and held him, leering in his face.
“Do you know what the wolf clan does to bastards who filch from Lord Jei?” “B-but he gave it to me!” Kenichi’s voice pitched higher with fright, and his feet kicked in midair. “He said I could keep it!”
“Toda,” said a serene voice from inside the guest house, “What is going on?” A young wolf, smaller than Kenichi and probably at least a year younger, sauntered into view and stepped up to the threshold of the small porch. Unlike the guards, who wore simple sets of roughly-tanned leather armor, the young wolf was dressed in a metal-studded armor beneath a thick red overcloak. His ears were dotted with small piercings of gold and silver that formed the beginnings of a geometrical pattern.
A partially-finished clan marking, Usagi realized. Much like his own Miyamoto crest, which was currently half-traced across the back of his shoulders. The wolf pup must be an heir to his clan after all.
Toda made a hasty bow, still holding Kenichi aloft. “Lord Jei, this rabbit admitted to stealing your weapon.”
“I didn’t!” said Kenichi. “Tell him, Jei!”
Jei took the blade and turned it over in his hands, as if it were something he’d never seen before. His tone was light and easy. “That’s ‘Lord’ Jei to you, flatfoot. Show some respect for your betters.”
Kenichi looked stunned, and Usagi suddenly had a sinking feeling. A second massive wolf guard came around the corner to join the impromptu gathering.
“Please put my brother down,” said Usagi, trying to keep the beginnings of panic out of his voice. “This must just be a misunderstanding.”
Jei waved to the second wolf guard. “Guni, hold onto the other rabbit, will you?” As Guni advanced on him, Usagi found himself fighting a sudden and intense instinct to run.
Every yokai understood the basic advantages and disadvantages that came with clan ancestry. Reptile tribes from the eastern deserts were born with natural venoms that made them dangerous adversaries, but they were susceptible to cold. The bear and wolf clans were strong and known for their endurance, even if their strategizing and diplomatic skills suffered for it. Rabbits were nimble and many in number, which made up for their smaller stature and relative frailty when compared to other yokai.
If Usagi had chosen to, he could have dodged Guni’s grapple. He could have bolted back to the main house in moments and brought help. He was quicker, more agile. A speedy escape would have been simple.
Though the thought came easily, Usagi remained motionless. There was no way he wanted to leave his little brother in the clutches of three predators.
Guni latched onto his arm, and Usagi was hauled fully inside. The door slammed behind them, and he and Kenichi were dragged down the corridor into a spacious, central room. A fire danced in the hearth, and its flames cast a red glow across the polished, dark floors.
Kenichi kept up a steady stream of protests and pleas and explanations, still squirming in Toda’s grasp. “But you said we were friends! You said it was just a game, and I won fair and square, Jei, you said–”
“ Lord Jei,” the young wolf snapped. He kept his gaze carefully averted from either Usagi or Kenichi. “And I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Usagi’s jaw dropped. All the myths about untrustworthy predators and treacherous carnivore clans came rushing back to him. He’d always been taught that they were nothing more than fear-mongering, left over from the days of primordial terrors. Yokai were civilized now, able to rise above any savage instincts.
But he knew Kenichi wouldn’t lie. Which meant that this spoiled, ill-mannered little wolf was trying to get his brother in trouble.
“Thought so,” said Toda. He shook Kenichi. “You snub-nosed rabbits are nothin’ but a lot of grubby, dirty little cheats. What do you want me to do to ‘im, Lord Jei?”
Jei tossed the wakizashi up and down. It glinted with firelight as it spun, whirling reflections in dizzying patterns across the ceiling, walls, and floor. His claws clicked against the metal each time he caught it in his hand. “A traditional punishment would be to break some fingers, yes? To ensure that the thief can never grasp anything properly to steal again.”
“W-what?” Kenichi squeaked.
“Wait,” said Usagi. They couldn’t mean that. Honored visitors never made threats, it was against the code of conduct. And yet, etiquette had already been broken. Here he was, being held against his will while wolves tried to frighten his little brother. “Wait–”
“Start with his left hand, please, Toda,” said Jei. “Based on how he played the game earlier, that’s his dominant.”
“Heeheeh,” Toda shoved Kenichi facedown on the floor, pressed his knee into the small of Kenichi’s back to pin him, and reached for his hand. He splayed Kenichi’s fingers. “You got skimpy little fingers, flatfoot. These are gonna pop easy.”
Toda gripped Kenichi’s smallest finger and slowly began to bend it backward. Kenichi let out a squeak of fright and started to thrash. He looked across at Usagi with absolute terror. “Wait!” said Usagi.
Snap.
For such a small sound, it seemed strangely amplified in the confines of the room. The silence afterward seemed to stretch, and if it had lasted a heartbeat longer, Usagi might have been able to start convincing himself that he’d imagined it.
Kenichi began to shriek.
Toda reached for his second finger.
“No!” Usagi thrashed, twisting against Guni’s crushing grasp. “Leave him alone, he didn’t do anything!”
“Arguing with my judgment?” said Jei. “That’ll cost him the fingers on his other hand, too.”
“Stop!” Usagi cried, desperately. “Why are you being this way?”
“I am well within my rights. My personal property was found in your possession, and your brother is guilty by your own admission.”
“We’re returning it, we’re following tradition, we’re being honorable!”
“You really want your brother to suffer, don’t you, kid?” Guni shoved Usagi down to his knees and twisted both his arms behind him. “Keep going, Toda, maybe if you get through enough digits that’ll get chatty over there to shut up.”
This time when the yokai twisted Kenichi’s arm, there was a crunch. Kenichi screamed. “Oops,” said Toda, without a hint of sincerity. “Accidentally mangled his wrist, too.” Guni guffawed.
Instinct and memory from his training kicked in. Usagi abandoned trying to pull forward away from Guni, and instead suddenly threw his weight backward. The top of his head connected with the wolf’s sternum. He heard the grunt of surprise and sensed the opening. Tucking his feet, Usagi kicked straight back.
Even when not fully grown, a rabbit’s kick was not something to be taken lightly. Usagi’s heels connected with the wolf’s jaw. Something popped. Guni garbled a howl of pain, and suddenly the grip pinning Usagi went slack.
He scrambled to his feet and toward Toda and Kenichi. He grabbed for the only weapon in reach – a scythe-like blade hanging from Toda’s belt. In one smooth motion he yanked it free, and slashed.
It was a strike born of desperation. His only thought was to make them stop, make them leave his little brother alone. The sickle had more weight than the katanas he was used to. Its handle gave a ragged tremor as it struck something, and then dragged the rest of the way through.
Thump.
The wolf’s tail hit the floor.
Toda yowled in pain, and it was a far cry from the war howls that echoed distantly over the hills late on full moon nights. It was raw. Feral.
Dangerous.
“Kenichi, run!” Usagi cried.
He saw his brother trying, stumbling to his feet, cradling his arm. It should have been a simple thing. Kenichi was nearly as fast as Usagi, and could certainly outpace any clumsy, bulky wolf. But he wasn’t walking straight. Tears were streaming from his eyes, and his footsteps stuttered, unsteady.
Usagi started to run to him, to help, but Toda blocked his path. Usagi dodged sideways. He would have been fast enough had he not slipped on the blood. A slick puddle of it was in his path, taking his foot out from under him. He fell flat on his back, and then Toda was upon him.
Toda ripped the scythe from Usagi’s grasp and slashed. Usagi rolled. He felt the fur on his side ripple as the blade breezed a hair's-breadth from his skin. He scrabbled to get to his feet, but Toda grabbed his ankle. Usagi fell once more, this time face-down, and he sensed more than saw the next strike coming. It caught him across the shoulders and opened up a line of fire across his back.
“Gah!” Usagi twisted, trying to kick free.
By that time Guni was back on his feet and had caught Kenichi by the ears before he could make it to the doorway. Kenichi was dragged back to the center of the room, sobbing. The entire scuffle lasted only seconds. Usagi squirmed, pinned face-down against the floor under the heavy weight of a livid, tail-less wolf, and everything he had just done was all for nothing.
Toda pressed his hand down hard against the back of Usagi’s neck, and Usagi could feel the prick of his claws. “You just made everything worse for yourself. Hm? What’s this?” There came the sound of fabric tearing, and Usagi felt the back of his tunic fall open. The loose cloth puddled at his sides, and Usagi shuddered as the wolf’s breath breezed hot and putrid through his fur.
“Oho ho ho, Lord Jei, look! He’s got the tattoos! Well, the outline of ‘em, anyway. Ha! It’s the clan seal!”
“Really?” Jei sounded interested for the first time. “Does that mean he’s the Miyamoto heir? And he hasn’t completed the ceremony yet?”
Usagi twisted his head to try and look up at the young clan leader. All he got was a sideways tilted view that showed him nothing other than Jei’s feet as he strode forward. “So you’re the Chuunin. I’d say you don’t really deserve that title now, do you? Stealing, lying. Losing a fight.”
“We didn’t…steal…anything…” Usagi fought to get full breaths under Toda’s crushing weight.
Jei ignored him. “If you can’t act like a proper heir, then you certainly can’t be allowed to bear the markings of a clan leader’s seal. Might as well cut it off now, and save your family the trouble.”
Usagi’s heart pounded. Cut the lines off? They were mystic. They were embedded not just in his fur and his skin, but in his essence. Removing them once they were in place was impossible. Who would even try such a thing?
“Toda, why don’t you do the honors,” said Jei. “Seems you owe him in kind for what he just did, anyway.”
“Wait, wait! ” Usagi squirmed as the scythe pressed against the nape of his neck. “You’re honored guests of the Miyamoto clan, there’s no reason for any of this!”
Jei crouched and gripped Usagi’s chin in his hand, twisting his head up at a painful angle to meet his eye. “You are still talking. ”
“B-but–”
“ Buh-buh-buh? ” Jei mimicked. “You sound like an idiot. Is meaningless drivel all you rabbits know how to do? I didn’t think it was possible for any lowlife creature to prattle on so. Days and days of rambling about ‘treaties’ and ‘land sanctions’ and ‘borders.’ Ugh.”
Jei dropped his hold and Usagi’s chin cracked against the wood floor. The wolf paced in a circle, arms clasped behind his back.
“There have been no gladiatorial hand-to-hand combat challenges, no exchanges of weaponry, and not a single demonstration of warrior prowess. The only skill you nub-toothed morons have shown is that you can walk through gardens. My father insisted that we need an alliance, but your clan is nowhere near strong enough to be a benefit to mine. I am unimpressed, and I am bored. ”
Usagi couldn’t even think how to respond anymore. The idea that a dignitary would resort to lying and scheming and violence simply because he didn’t want to pursue a treaty was incomprehensible.
“I was going to accuse your brother at tomorrow morning’s audience with your clan leader,” said Jei. “It would have made another day of incessant chatter more interesting, at least.” Usagi opened his mouth to say something, to ask a question, because none of that made any sense. If Jei hated being here so much, all he had to do was leave. No guests were ever forced to remain. Why would he go to all the trouble of tricking Kenichi into a silly game, only to get him in trouble for it later? What was the point?
Toda chose that moment to rake the scythe across his back, and Usagi forgot any words he was trying to gather as he bit down on his tongue to stifle a cry.
“Ugh, not like that, Toda. Sometimes I think you really are just a brute.”
“Huh? What’d I do wrong?”
“Make it meaningful,” said Jei. “Carve in what he really is. A failure.”
“Don’t,” said Usagi. “Please, don’t–”
“Shut. Up.” said Jei. “Haven’t I made it clear that I am sick of hearing you rabbits talk? If you so much as make a peep from this point forward, your brother loses his hand next.” Usagi clamped his teeth shut so quickly, his jaw ached. He twisted his head and met Kenichi’s wide, teary eyes.
He didn’t know what to do. None of his training ever taught the proper course of action if diplomacy failed.
Then the scythe pierced his back and carved the first lines.
It hurt. Worse than anything. Like a freezing knife was being dragged through his skin in a single, agonizing line, flaying apart muscle and sinew and leaving the flesh peeled in its wake. Usagi clenched his fingernails into the grain of the floorboards, ignorant of the splinters. Blood rushed through his ears, but it did nothing to drown out Kenichi’s sobbing and the crack of bone as Guni snapped more fingers.
The agony continued as Toda dragged the scythe across his shoulder blades, then down his spine, then back up again and into the soft curve of his neck, tedious and incessant and unending, oh ancestors, when was it going to stop?
Abruptly, the blade ripped free. The sudden change from the cold, slicing torment to a rush of torn skin and heat and blood was so startling that Usagi arched his back in surprise and, without thinking, drew in a ragged gasp of air.
Jei tutted. “Guni, go ahead and take his brother’s hand.”
Kenichi cried out, and Usagi wanted to scream. He hadn’t yelled. He hadn’t cried. He hadn’t said a single word.
All he’d done was try to breathe. To brace himself for the next pass of the blade. But if he argued that now, if he protested, if he cursed them out…what worse punishment would they inflict on Kenichi?
“Usagi,” Kenichi sobbed, “Usagi, Usagi…”
And Usagi couldn’t even turn his head to look his little brother in the eye. To try and comfort him. To lie and say it would be all right when it wasn’t, it wasn’t, it wasn’t. He heard the whistle of steel through the air and a thick shuunk as it struck through something soft.
But instead of an earsplitting scream of pain…there was nothing.
Only silence.
Somehow, that was worse.
Usagi writhed, wanting nothing more than to call his brother’s name. Why was he suddenly quiet? Why was he quiet?
“Haw-haw!” Guni laughed. “Wimpy little bastard couldn’t even stand up to the thought of getting an arm axed. Ugh, bloody mess is leaking everywhere, though.” "Get it in the fire, then,” said Jei.
There was a hiss and a sizzle, and the smell of charring fur filled the air. Then the scythe struck his shoulders once more, and Usagi’s world ratcheted back into nothing but torment as he struggled desperately to remain silent.
He had no way to tell how long that eternity lasted. At some point the prominent lines of pain across his back melded into a tangled maze of aching misery. Finally the weight pinning him down vanished, and the ringing in his ears subsided enough for him to hear Jei tossing orders.
“--no reason to wait. I hardly need to stand on tradition in the face of a message as clear as this one. They’ll understand come morning.”
With his face pressed into a thick red puddle on the floor – when had that gotten there? – Usagi risked a slow, shuddering breath. Blood caught against his teeth, clotted and coppery. He almost gagged, but caught the sound before it could escape his throat. Painstakingly, he wormed his elbows underneath him and pushed his upper body up from the mess.
Jei saw him and smiled. “Tell your father that I politely decline any and all relations with the Miyamoto clan.”
With that, he swept out the front door of the guest house, Toda and Guni in tow.
Usagi forced himself up onto his hands and knees and swung his head slowly, searching the room. New seams on the back of his neck seemed to split open with each movement, but he ignored them.
Crumpled in front of the hearth, nothing but a shadow in the dwindling firelight, lay Kenichi. Usagi crawled to him, keeping his breath shallow and his teeth clenched to keep the nausea at bay.
Kenichi’s left arm was mangled, twisted and charred from the elbow down. The stump looked foreign, like something sooty and fake that had been tacked on. His severed hand sat on the flagstones of the fireplace where it had fallen, in a puddle of its own crimson, fur matted and each of the fingers rent in the wrong directions.
Usagi pressed his ear close to his brother’s chest. The heartbeat fluttered, fast and faint. Achingly, Usagi gathered Kenichi into his arms and stood. He took tottering steps out of the guesthouse.
The sun lingered above the horizon, still not ready to make way for the blanket of night. Barely a half-hour had passed.
Usagi lurched forward. His foot slid on the slick grass, which was strange because grass was hardly slippery. Then again, blood was dripping down the back of his legs, tracing rivulets around the joints of his ankles and squelching between the pads of his feet. The sticky warmth sopped the front of his waistband, too, from where Kenichi’s arm pressed tight against his chest. Blood soaked the tails of Usagi’s belt, making them swing heavily and fling ruby droplets with each stride.
Even so, Usagi somehow found the strength to run.