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As soon as Renji reached the land entrance to the lavish estate where his contractor had his headquarters, he collapsed to the floor, clutching his aching forearm. The journey there, much like his recent dealings with Shiranui the onmyouji, had been a royal pain in the ass. Usually, he preferred to avoid that place unless summoned for an assassination mission. Today, however, he had been compelled to make this visit out of sheer necessity.
“Go fetch Mei right now,” he growled at the pair of dead-eyed, female-looking shikigami who had greeted him. “Tell her there’s something wrong with this damn arm she fixed.” Supposedly fixed, he mentally corrected himself.
They silently bowed in response, as monotonous as ever, before vanishing, likely venturing into the ample garden at the back of the house. Mei’s very own Garden of Longevity. He partially rose, opting for a kneeling position as he awaited his healer, all the while clutching his sister's yueqin close to his body with his healthy arm.
Soon, he began to sense the strain in his afflicted limb traveling up to his shoulder, then creeping to his neck and ultimately reaching his head. It resembled an army of ants steadily marching up his upper body, leaving behind a faint numbness in their wake. Renji clenched his teeth, attempting to endure the surging waves of inexplicable heat. Was he genuinely developing a fever at this very moment? It could not be a normal one, that was for sure.
I've never heard of a fever that gets progressively worse within just a few minutes. It's that damn wood spell of hers, he seethed.
When the long-haired girl had finally arrived to his rescue, the increasing temperature in both his forehead and his arm was barely bearable anymore. Horrified, he looked down to the source of his ailments and cringed at the discovery of roots forcibly sprouting from his flesh.
“What the fuck is this?” he blurted out between labored breaths.
“This is an unexpected relapse,” Mei observed, no ounce of agitation in her voice. “It's a rare occurrence, but I can fix it before it's too late for you.”
“Hey, are you saying I could die from your shoddy spell?”
A sly smile danced on her lips, but it never reached her eyes. Renji could not help but wonder if she was hiding something. “Oh, not at all. Your arm might become unusable, but I'm sure neither you nor Shiranui-sama would want to lose the means to exploit your skills with that peculiar cursed item of yours.”
With a flourish, Mei signaled for the servants from earlier to transport him as she disclosed their destination. “We're heading to the kodoku.”
Against his own judgment, Renji shuddered at the memory of the giant pit filled with half-dead human scum. It didn't bother him when Mei had first shown him the enclosure nor when he saw the fruits of her revenge quest a week prior, so why was it starting to unsettle him now? Perhaps it was his pain reacting to the wretched atmosphere.
He winced when he felt a shikigami trying to lift him up. “No need to treat me like a sack of rice, I can walk just fine.”
With some difficulty, courtesy of Renji's weakened state, they made their way into the garden, where an ominous aura emanated from its center, marking the location of the open-sky pitfall. Inside the yueqin, the kakachu fire bugs buzzed with anticipation as they drew closer to the other cursed artifact, yearning to reunite with the specimens that were being cultivated in that very spot.
“Lie down right here, near the perimeter,” Mei instructed after dispatching Shiranui’s servants. “For your full recovery, I need to tap into the energy of the kodoku. It's not going to be immediate, so I beg for your patience.”
Before he could comply with her commands, the fire spell wielder felt her hands removing his white-and-blue haori and the upper part of his robes. Initially, he wanted to protest, but it was only natural for a healer to conduct a thorough examination. Her palms felt cool against his feverish skin.
Lying on the ground had never felt so uncomfortable to Renji, but he attributed it to whatever was transpiring within his body. His temples began to throb violently, and the last image he saw before involuntarily closing his eyes was Mei knitting her eyebrows together in pure concentration.
The groans emanating from the pit reverberated in his ears, and Renji couldn't resist picturing Onitake, the man behind the defenestration of Mei’s village, being slowly mauled by his thugs in malignant ecstasy. He smirked at the idea.
The darkness under his eyelids soon began to fill with a series of images over which he had no control, while his other senses betrayed him, succumbing to delirium.
He saw the dango shop where he typically treated the forgotten young prostitutes he cared for, listening to their mumblings of gratitude. It's what they deserved for all the wrongdoings they had to endure.
He saw his assassination targets swelling up from the inside, exploding in a grisly rain of gore as they fell prey to the rage of his fire bugs. Politicians, prostitution ring leaders, abusers —none of their lives held any value.
He saw his elder sister, her features marred by the violence inflicted upon her by a cruel wealthy man who regarded her as disposable. Alongside that image, he swore he could hear the drunken, hysterical laughter of his worthless parents mixed with the frenzied ghoulish noises from the kodoku.
The wrath coursing through his veins led him to envision his parents at the bottom of the pit –clawing each other, biting each other, bleeding all over– while Tsuyu, safe and sound beside him, played the most beautiful melody on the Chinese instrument she adored so much.
The roots coming out of his arm tightened even further, and Renji feared they might snap his once-lost limb in two. He cursed Mao and his companions for indirectly putting him in this vulnerable position in the first place. Why the hell was Mei taking so long to cure him?
Delirious, a part of his mind he preferred to ignore reveled in the uncommon beauty of his colleague. Her fair skin, her luscious raven-colored hair, the light irises she inherited from her foreign-born father, the concealed malice that emanated from her seemingly demure demeanor. Back in the real world, the touch of her fingertips brushing lightly against his antecubital fossa sent shivers down his spine. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Unprompted, he found himself recalling the innocent words of a young girl from a brothel he had visited not long ago. This was a girl who, despite her unfortunate circumstances, still held onto the belief in love and other related emotions. “Passion is the fire that fuels us, and I’m sure a kind and handsome boy like you wouldn't have any trouble finding someone to share it with.”
Back then, Renji had scowled at her, and he still believed he was justified in doing so. Fire did indeed fuel his existence – it had done so since he drenched his home with expensive sake, setting it ablaze and ridding himself of the monsters who dared to call themselves his parents. But the flames within him were alit by undistilled hatred, not by something as commonplace as the passion the naïve girl had spoken of so highly.
Passion, as described by the masses, was often confused with lust. And lust, that filthy human urge, had ruined the lives of his biological sister, the orphans he once lived with, and the women he covertly protected with the generous payments from the Gokou clan. Renji was an assassin for hire; the only things he cared about were money and, perhaps, his own sense of justice.
Ah, but don’t you remember the way Mei’s bosom was slightly exposed for a fleeting moment during the train ride back home after retrieving that Sasuga brat? I bet she didn’t even notice. A voice stirred inside his palpitating brain, a voice that suspiciously sounded like the newest batch of kakachu that hovered above the jar at the center of the human kodoku. You could see some vines entangled all over it. Wouldn’t you like to set them on fire?
Bitterly, he realized the source of the conflicting sensations he was forced to experience. Some time ago, Mei had provided him with stronger fire bugs that fed on the sinister aura of resentment from the ongoing massacre happening at the pitfall. But recently, a new miserable scumbag had been added to the kodoku, and somehow his vile thoughts had taken hold of the kakachu Renji was subconsciously channeling. It was that damn yakuza leader, Onitake, still leering at the girl despite his pitiful existence as a zombie-like creature.
Open your eyes, look at her. You think there’s no way you could be feeling like this, but maybe you’re wrong. You’re going to hell after all.
He complied, bile threatening to set in his throat if he dared to remain with his eyelids shut. Mei Mitazono knelt beside him, her collar unbuttoned, allowing the roots to emerge from the seed of haku in her chest –that damn fine chest– so that they would connect to the ones growing on him. A soothing tingle traveled through his nerves, but it was so subtle he could barely discern it. He needed more and more to satiate the desire pouring all over his soul. He needed to consume her, much like a forest fire consumes foliage.
Their gazes locked for a few seconds, triggering some unknown force within Renji. His free hand moved on its own, drawing her closer until her face was just above his. Her expression remained unperturbed. Why did she not recoil at his actions? He did not know.
His lips captured hers, sending the tormented assassin into a frenzy that seemed to peak on and off with each passing second. To his surprise, Mei's mouth tasted sour rather than sweet, contrary to what most people, including himself, would expect based on her appearance alone.
The calming influence stemming from their intertwined roots intensified with the stolen kiss, her sourness naturally counteracting the bitterness that reeled in his tongue. The visions returned once more.
He saw a prospering crop and the foreign man tending to it, wiping sweat from his brow. The man's eyes hauntingly resembled Mei's, hinting at their blood ties.
He saw a poorly lit storage house and coarse rope binding a girl's arms behind her back, feeling a fraction of the terror she had experienced when she was captured.
He saw the polluted waters where she had nearly drowned, and the majestic presence of Shiranui offering her a new life to settle her grudge.
Despite not having experienced them firsthand, they were all part of the story Mei had recounted to Mao and his enigmatic female companion back in Mikumari Village—a story Renji had overheard while hiding at a safe distance. He no longer knew if her past was vividly seeping into his body due to the kiss or their wooden connection. Perhaps it was both.
Impulsively, his tongue made its way deeper into her mouth, demanding more of the paradoxical calmness the pretty girl radiated. He could physically feel the flush spreading across his cheeks, redistributing the persistent heat he had endured thus far. Mei passively allowed the kiss to continue with the same intensity, shuddering lightly when she sensed his teeth attempting to nibble her lips.
With his strength almost fully restored, the yueqin master pushed her away the moment he felt her hands wandering across his chest. One thing was letting her touch him as a patient, but the context had clearly shifted long ago. Illness or not, this strange possession-like state or not, his pride remained firm enough to prevent whatever this was from crossing a line he wished to avoid. Looking up, he saw her cheeks adorned with a beautiful blush, and his seemingly rehabilitated hand shook from reluctant regret.
Wouldn’t it be pleasant to see her features so affected by you again? He heard the same repulsive whisper inside his head, unsure of whether it was Onitake’s or his.
“My, my,” she said after catching her breath, the sly smile from before making a reappearance. “And here I thought you were strictly professional, Renji-san.”
“I could say the same about you. What the fuck was that and why didn’t you stop it?”
“I don’t intend to offend you, but you clearly are more of an amateur than me. Along with your woeful past, I find it rather endearing.” Renji glared at her while she nonchalantly procured a pair of gardening scissors from her apron, pointing at his blooming arm. “Now, allow me to explain while I trim these for you. I recall you mentioning they made you uncomfortable.”
The metallic tool lazily snipped away every root and hint of rhizome without any issue, and he marveled at how the discomfort he had endured for over a day disappeared as though it had never happened.
“You and I have an affinity for the fire and wood elements respectively, that’s much obvious to say. Do you remember the basic rules of interaction between them?”
“Wood feeds fire, fire burns wood,” Renji responded absentmindedly, flexing the previously afflicted limb to ensure the damage had been completely repaired and that he wasn’t undergoing placebo effect. It felt as good as new.
“And the blossoming spring leads to the scorching summer, correct. According to the five elements theory, our elements have a generating relationship, which can either promote or weaken one another. Somewhere between the last time I healed you and today, an excess of my wood spell caused the fire within you to overgrow and become unbalanced, explaining the high fever you experienced just now.”
Even though it somewhat made sense, Renji remained unconvinced. “So why would you infuse me with even more wood? Wouldn't that have fried my brain?”
“I have yet to master the seed of haku that Shiranui-sama gifted me,” she confessed, her resting mask momentarily slipping to reveal a trace of sincere doubt and something close to helplessness. It was the first time he had seen her façade crack. “But I figured the stagnant wood energy in your arm could be replaced with a carefully measured, stronger one that would correct the course of the generating relationship. That’s why I requested to perform the treatment surrounded by the human kodoku.”
And what a terrible idea that was, he thought, growing increasingly exasperated as he finished reassembling his clothing, ending the exposure of his torso.
“I admit the kiss was a brilliant solution. Pretty unorthodox, and not what I would expect from you, but it surely helped to accelerate the process.”
Renji felt the corner of his mouth twitch, uncertain if it was from annoyance or out-of-place excitement. No, it certainly was not the latter. Anger, hatred, and contempt were the only emotional responses that felt natural to him.
“Don’t get the wrong idea, Mei. If I kissed you, it was because I was hallucinating from the fever. I wasn’t being myself, and I think it was partly because of the new batch of Onitake-flavored kakachu. That bastard’s lust interfered with my control over fire. I acted purely on instinct”
“When you put it like that, I suppose it does add up.” The young woman narrowed her blue eyes. Why did she look somewhat disappointed at the revelation? “Still, for your gut to react like that and inadvertedly apply Chinese medicine principles you didn’t know… it means you have potential.”
“Huh?”
“The Chinese attribute various organs and senses to each of the elements. The kiss we shared happened to align with wood-fire iterations, so to speak.” Mei sighed at the prolonged silence of his interlocutor. “Wood is associated with the eyes and sourness, while fire is associated with the tongue and bitterness. Your body was seeking balance through the seed inside me, and it only moved on its own when our eyes met. And as for your bitter tongue, well, it probed around in search of acidity to placate itself.”
He raised his hand to his forehead, a desperate urge to confirm whether the sickness had inexplicably returned after all. What else could explain the loud pounding in his heart? Why else would his thoughts keep circling back to the instant when her hands appeared to synchronize with his inner turmoil?
“Tch, that didn’t fully answer my question. Would you mind explaining why you touched me like that?”
A familiar wave of animosity welled up in his throat, tempting him to leave the place immediately, avoiding any further confrontation. Elemental magic interference or not, this wasn't his proudest moment. Even the humiliation at the hands of a certain bothersome long-haired doctor was slightly more bearable in comparison.
“I wasn’t being myself either. While I was healing you, I sensed our personal histories intertwining, and with them the same impulsiveness that overwhelmed you sinking into my soul. I’m sorry if it brought back unpleasant memories or brought you any discomfort in general. Please don't take it personally,” Mei broke character again, offering an apologetic gesture –and it seemed genuine, a stark contrast to her typical aloofness. Renji, on the other hand, silently resisted the intense desire to make her current expression contort into one of pleasure.
Deciding that he was done with the conversation before anything undesirable happened, the male curse wielder stood up and moved closer to the edge of the pitfall, taking in the gruesome sight of the creatures responsible for both his speedy recovery and his plunge into unfamiliar territories. He identified the offending yakuza leader, his tattooed body missing chunks of flesh and covered by bruises, his eyes trapped in a perpetual state of abject horror, his grunts domineering over the other macabre sounds coming out of the kodoku. If he could kill him right now, he would do so gladly, but Renji was well aware that he could not interfere with Mei's justice. It was better for that waste of space to suffer in that manner, anyway. He settled for spitting on him with deep-seated rancor.
“The only thing that matters is that I’m good to go now. I accept your apology and likewise offer one of my own, but I don’t want to waste more time here.” He coldly collected his musical instrument, avoiding eye contact. “I expect a few things to come out of this. One, I want you to do something about that defective batch of fire bugs. Two, no one can know about this, at least not directly from your mouth. Three, I hope it’s clear to you that we’re just co-workers, that I only care about the money your precious master provides, and that if it were for me, I wouldn’t have to pay you any visits or be assigned as your partner on missions.”
The unanticipated sound of a suppressed laughter irritated him once more. As inoffensive as she looked, Mei Mitazono had an uncanny ability to get under his skin –in more than one way– today. He prayed that none of that generating relationship bullshit happened between them for a long time. Preferably never again. A part of him felt that he would not know how to retain self-control the next time his body decided to betray him and give in to the mundane waves of passion this woman and her former tormentor had quietly awoken in him.
“I’m looking forward to seeing you again in the future, Renji-san. Hopefully in hell, but that’s not up to me.”