Chapter Text
~~[Season 83/Year 1968, Winter]~~
In what somehow already felt like a life ago, Konpaku Youmu had heard that the arrival of snow in the world of the living brought to all vegetation a season of death and slumber. The passing of each living year obliged plant life into a liminal period, seeking rebirth in the next. The concept resonated with something inside Youmu, but with what she was not sure, and she had little reason - or time - to ponder it. Here in the Pure Lands, existence held a much simpler and more elegant meaning, absent the spectre of death and decay. Ephemerality and transmigration were for the dead.
Winter in the Netherworld brought no respite from the labor of maintaining the endless, eclectic gardens of the palace of Hakugyokurou. Youmu sometimes wondered, over the year since she had arrived, what she would even do with an entire season free from her sisyphean duties as lone gardener. The years before her permanent departure from the home of the half-human, half-phantom Konpaku clan had been filled with lessons and drills with all manner of weapon, but such techniques were of a rare field where Youmu found herself a quick learner. Though her instructor would never admit it, Youmu felt confident that her mastery was at this point already profound. Practice alone could not fill the hours. Could she even handle a life of leisure, like the one her new mistress seemed to revel in?
"Ah, Youmu? Come here! I have a job for you." The voice of the ghostly princess of the Netherworld, Saigyouji Yuyuko, called out from the main hall of the palace, pleasant and gentle as always.
Youmu sighed. One job was never finished before another started. Fancies of idleness would never be more than that, it seemed. Even the mindless beings she lived amongst seemed acutely aware of this; one of Yuyuko's spectral butterflies, a facsimile of a black spangle swallowtail, took advantage of the moment's pause to land atop Youmu's head as she sheathed her odachi. The deadly black phantasm perching directly upon her greying hair was unfazed by the pace of her strides towards the palace proper. Youmu had no intention of shooing it away. She had grown to appreciate the tastes of vicarious relaxation her frequent hitchhikers provided.
As she turned the last corner into the front courtyard of Hakugyokurou, Youmu was surprised to see two people, exiting a tight embrace. Beside Yuyuko was a towering figure, blond hair cascading down the full length of a long, shimmering, violet gown. With motion that seemed, somehow, subtly more real than reality, gloved fingers brushed against Yuyuko's hand as they slowly pulled away. A contented smile faded slightly from her face as they did so. Youmu recognised her only from brief glimpses years ago, always accompanying Yuyuko.
The unfamiliar visitor's pleasantly deep voice sent a mild current up Youmu's back. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Yakumo Yukari, an old friend of Yuyuko's."
A new, confident smile replaced the fading one, and Yukari opened an ornate parasol held in both hands. Youmu was unsure of whence she had produced it; she realised just how much she had been struck by the weight of Yukari's presence. She stood out against the Netherworld, filled as she was to the brim with life, with the stain of countless deaths. She was, surely, a youkai - the first Youmu had met. She was, surely, powerful.
Youmu had never before seen anyone comparable to her mistress, but this friend of hers seemed a match. She had heard stories of this Yukari: pleasant tales told with affection from her mistress, disrespectful rants from her instructor. Youmu knew now which she believed.
"It's rude to stare."
Yuyuko's chiding snapped Youmu's attention back to her. The words and the familiar expression - wide smile and closed eyes partially obscured by an ornate fan - triggered a flush of embarrassment.
"My apologies!" Youmu looked back at Yukari and, blanking entirely on how to handle the situation, gave a stiff bow. She heard, in response, a light chuckle.
"Don't tease the poor thing. She's already a perfectly acceptable degree of intimidated; no need to push it further."
"Oh, where's the Yukari who indulges me?"
Unsure of how to handle the exchange, Youmu hesitantly looked up at Yukari. She, in turn, was staring happily at Yuyuko. Yuyuko returned the expression, fan lowered. Youmu could only assume this was the affection of those with a truly deep and powerful friendship.
Yukari's eye fluttered briefly shut, interrupting their mutual gaze, and she looked back to Youmu. "Yuyuko tells me you've taken over as gardener?"
Youmu responded, more stiffly than she'd hoped. "Yes, Lady Yukari. Lady Yuyuko says that, since I have come of age, my responsibilities should reflect as such."
Yukari laughed. "Oh, is that all she said? No mention of the old codger slacking off?"
Youmu was baffled at the response, and Yuyuko's laugh in return. Yukari could only have been talking about Youki: fellow member of the Konpaku clan, Youmu and Yuyuko's sword instructor, and previous gardener and current bodyguard of the Saigyouji household. Youki was eccentric, looking and acting like no one else in their clan. She was a person of few words. What she had said had always assured Youmu of her devotion to duty. Youmu had had no reason to believe otherwise. But Youmu trusted Lady Yuyuko, and Yuyuko seemed to trust Yukari. She was deeply confused.
Yukari continued, speaking gently. "I'm sure you, at least, will handle this with professionalism." The softly spoken appraisal sent an unexpected shiver down the back of Youmu's neck.
A sound arose: a subtle, unnerving rip, akin to thin fabric being torn along the weave. It drew Youmu's attention to Yukari's side, where a black, gently-waving line in the air lengthened until arrested by the appearance of red ribbons, matching the ones in Yukari's hair. With a sudden burst, the line split apart, revealing blackness punctuated by red, glowing eyes, staring directly into Youmu's. Youmu reflexively took a step back as fingers crawled out from along the edges, grasping at the air. Red claws thrust forth violently from the middle, and Youmu's phantom half interposed between this tear in space and her human half. When the motion stopped, Youmu saw, distorted through the translucence of her body, unfamiliar red and yellow flowers in a large earthen pot, surrounded by bulbs.
What was Yukari? Who was she, to call forth powers like these for something as mundane as this? Youmu glanced aside at Yukari's face, and saw the hint of a malicious grin.
What was she supposed to feel about a person like this?
"This one is particularly poisonous," Yukari said to Yuyuko, her face adopting a more neutral expression. "So I would suggest that even a half-human avoid touching it with her hands."
"Oh, wonderful!" Yuyuko replied, clasping her hands in front of her as her floating body swept an arcing path to bring the contents of the claws into better view. "And they're so beautiful, too... I didn't know flowers could look like this! They're perfect."
"Even the nectar," Yukari's warning continued. "Make sure to keep your butterflies away from her when they're visiting these."
"Oh, duly noted. That head of hers seems a winter cherry lantern in all ways but colour. But a bit of danger should add a bit of fun to the job, wouldn't you say? We'll find just the place for them in the gardens."
"I knew I had to bring some the moment I first saw one," Yukari responded with a hint of excitement before a more neutral tone returned. "Oh, but on the other hand, the other gift I may be presenting is one I've been holding onto for much, much longer."
Yuyuko chuckled softly. "With her around I think you'll finally be able to pawn off that old piece of junk."
"Oh, hush. May I remind you it was once very coveted by a former colleague."
"Of course not. Remind me of better things."
Long since lost in the unfolding conversation, Youmu hesitantly shifted, bringing the plant - and the terrifying void behind it - into unobstructed view. What she had thought had been a distorted image was revealed to be tall, heavily-waved petals, six to a flower, resembling overzealous candleflame. The fiery corolla was surrounded by a flare of stamens, resulting in what looked to Youmu like an inverted lily. Yuyuko was right; they were beautiful, whatever they were. Where had Yukari found such vibrant specimens, clearly from the world of the living, in the middle of winter?
Youmu noticed all eyes in the gap were now looking at Yuyuko.
Another careful motion of her phantom half grasped the pot, and the claws and fingers retracted. Youmu found herself wondering if anyone she knew had knowledge of proper care of this mysterious plant. At least the living ones would last, and she had plenty of bulbs to experiment with.
"Youmu." Yuyuko's voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Yes! Um. Yes, Lady Yuyuko?" Youmu looked back up, and saw the pair staring into each others' eyes.
"Youmu," Yuyuko repeated, her gaze unbreaking. Youmu had no idea what she meant.
"Don't you have a task to take care of?" Yukari dispelled Youmu's confusion as she reached a gloved hand to Yuyuko's waist. Another tear in space opened behind Yuyuko.
"Of course!" Youmu spun her human body away, marching quickly in the general direction of the garden. Her other half carrying the object of her duties followed at a more sedate pace; their guest would not need privacy from a body that could not yet see.
As she passed through pathways under expansive wisteria trellises, as the courtyard grew distant behind her, Youmu became keenly aware of her pulse. It was far too rapid, far too present in her face to be warranted by even her brisk pace - or even the scare she had been given. It had been more than a decade since Youmu had last met someone for the first time, but even her introduction to Lady Yuyuko had not left her in such a state. There must be something more at work; while Youmu wished to trust any friend of Yuyuko's, she could not shake the stories of youkai she had heard as a child. With one like that, there was no telling what spells could have been wrought, even had Youmu been able to actually follow that exchange.
She needed a way to calm her agitation before handling a new, delicate specimen. The texture of the flowerpot's material was novel and smooth against the tail of her phantom half, but as her hands opened and closed she knew she needed more. Her stride slowed as she brought her charge beside her human half. As she delicately reached a hand out to indulge in the sensation, the beauty of the flower itself caught her eye enough to trigger a split second of hesitation.
A cold current ran up through both of Youmu's bodies at once.
The sickening sound of tearing she had first heard minutes ago, now much closer yet somehow softer, brought Youmu's eyes back to the path before her to see a different striking vision, inspiring the opposite of calm. A dozen arms spilled out from a dark void, an impossibly-long sword held high in the grip of half of them, poised to strike.
Nearly two decades of sword training had simultaneously prepared Youmu for this moment and left her feeling as unstudied as a youth. Time seemed to slow to nearly a standstill; was this the unprecedented flood of adrenaline pouring so heavily from her she could feel it evaporate off her phantom body, or a cruel trick to freeze her before this nightmarish threat?
And yet the training prepared her. Within this infinite instant she saw the aim of the eyes, saw the angle of the horrifying blade, pieced the impending path of destruction, and began moving before thought had untangled its feet from its first step.
Her phantom body dropped and fell back as her human body stepped forward, knee bent into a solid stance and sword held above to protect her charge from the incoming strike. But, even as time slowly began to uncongeal, the anticipated clash of sword never arose. Her own sword offered less resistance than even air, parting so effortlessly her wrist felt nothing but the sudden reduction in weight as most of its length fell away. Before the progression of time could resume its full march, this invincible weapon froze just a finger's breadth from her head.
Silence and stillness hung heavy enough that the soft rustling of breeze and near-intangible impact of half a bisected butterfly against her phantom body seemed to scream to Youmu. Yet the swing of the sword did not continue its progression through time even as the Netherworld, apparently, had left it behind.
Or maybe the blade had simply stopped.
Youmu let in a heavy breath.
The blade above her pulled back, twisting in the grip of the hands until they presented it hilt-first to Youmu. With both her bodies and the flower she was protecting momentarily safe, she hesitantly looked into the void in an attempt to divine a purpose to this act.
Two eyes stared back, seeming somehow, in their red disembodied glow, contented. All of the danger this void had exuded before seemed but a vivid nightmare. The void, it appeared, was offering her a gift.
With her own ruined weapon now too short to either wield or sheathe she tossed it aside and grasped what, for reasons beyond her, seemed its replacement. Though its long grip seemed a single, smooth mass of black it had a firm give better than any leather strapping. While the clear, adamantine-lustered blade felt nearly as massive as one of metal, its balance seemed immediately perfect. A few motions were enough to allow a moment of excitement to pierce Youmu's emotional haze; it would take some adjustment to the new length, but it was nowhere near beyond her well-conditioned strength. She could grow comfortable with this.
Motion snapped her focus back, and now the hands held something new: a great scabbard, black like onyx and bearing a strap. Yet even for its prodigious length, it seemed too small still for the tremendous weapon she now held, herself. But before she could raise a question, before she could wonder if she could even talk to Yukari through this hole in the world she had made, the arms reached out and slid the strap across her shoulder with a surprising gentleness.
"Her name is Roukanken."
The quiet voice that emanated as the gap in space sealed itself was Yukari's, or close to, and struck the same effect on Youmu as those first words she'd heard.
With a motion that seemed to guide itself, Youmu slid Roukanken into place behind her. Even in the daze Youmu found herself in, it struck her as far too easy for a first, blind attempt - far too possible for a blade longer than its own scabbard. Yet, as her hand drifted down, her fingertips brushed against the scabbard and the haze she was caught in began to evaporate. This was a touch she could lose herself in: far smoother than polished glass, far harder than any steel.
Now able to ground herself with two new touches at once, Youmu found herself in a spot to cope with all the terrors and novelty she had experienced today. When she had been so suddenly given her new duties, Youmu had no idea they would lead to meeting people so impressive - in every sense of the word. She was just the gardener. What pieces of stories she had been able to pry from Youki had all seemed from far off lands. If this was what she could expect staying on the palace grounds, what awaited those who followed her mistress out beyond?