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“How cute; the whelps want to play at psychological warfare,” Rajura has sneered when Naaza had come to him, uneasy and clearly rattled.
Weirdly, he has felt proud of the brats for even attempting it in the first place. Who knew the Troopers could be devious – or that at least Suiko and Kourin had teeth? Not that he hadn’t known about Kourin’s already, given the verbal punches she had thrown at them, but…
They couldn’t be serious. Their prisoners were grabbing at straws, trying to needle them like they had been needled first.
A fair attempt at revenge for the way Kourin had been treated, he had thought.
Well, Rajura’s not sneering anymore.
Instead, he’s pacing and gritting his teeth, because too many little pieces are starting to fit together, and he’s not liking it at all.
(“Of course we were the only ones to know,” Rajura assures his fellow Masho while Anubisu, far too quiet for his peace of mind, sits against a pillar, eyes focused on the open door leading to the balcony. “Do not be ridiculous. Anubisu has always been careful, and so were we.”
The Yami Masho has been very quiet for the last two days, ever since she has cried her soul out on his shoulder. She seems much steadier now, but Rajura still worries. He doesn’t fool himself in thinking that she’s fine. She doesn’t pretend to be, which is something at least, but…
“… but my servants do know about me since the very beginning,” Anubisu admits quietly, making Rajura still and turn to look at her with surprise. “It’s hard to keep a secret like that from the very beings tasked with cleaning your rooms, doing your laundry and drawing your baths,” she laughs mirthlessly at his expression.
Fair. Very fair. Rajura had never considered the question, because the spirit servants were just… servants…
He’s an idiot, he realizes belatedly.
Rajura is a spy master, and he was on his way to become one even before Arago-sama recruited him as his Masho. He knows just how discreet but well-informed servants tend to be, them who go everywhere but must remain unseen and mute. How many battle plans have been overheard by a dutiful, plain retainer tasked to serve the tea to Generals? How many secret trysts between lovers have loyal women and men helped to cover?
Rajura has turned more than a few to his side when he was a mere human.
So why had he never thought to do the same with their spirit servants, exactly? Why did he leave himself with such a glaring blind spot? Why hasn’t he been using them to keep tabs on his fellow Masho, or any would be rivals? Maybe he’d even have known about this Kayura long before she showed up if he had…
Rajura has to fight to keep himself from reacting. “So they have. It proves nothing,” he says calmly, even if his mind is racing.
The servants are sworn to them, by order from Arago-sama himself, and Rajura has no proof they ever acted against the Masho…
But who is to say that they do not report to Arago-sama anyway, or to Badamon who, as the Head Priest of the palace, holds significant power?
Rajura has never liked Badamon, for all he seems loyal to their Master. There was just something about the priest that rubs him the wrong way. The way he looks at them sometimes, as if they were ants, has always made him want to snarl.
“No,” Anubisu agrees. “But… I find it troubling YOU never seem to have considered them as a security risk.”
Rajura is feeling torn between pride that the Yami Masho seems to think so highly of his intellect, and self-recrimination for failing to see he had neglected a very important angle in all his plans. Why hadn’t he SEEN it?
… because someone didn’t want him to see, his mind supplies, merciless, with the voice of Kourin.
“… Yes,” he admits after he manages to make his jaw work, even if it takes him more than a minute. “I admit, it has… slipped my mind.” He shakes his head to clear his thought. “It doesn’t mean the brats are onto something, though.”
“After all, they were still too soft-hearted to finish the job.”
One of his fists tightens by reflex. He hasn’t heard Kourin’s voice himself, cannot judge of the sincerity of her words by a second-hand account, but…
He doesn’t think the girl he has left shaken and tearful, who reportedly broke down in sobs in one of her fellow Trooper’s arms and who said she can <i>forgive Anubisu, eventually</i>, could sink so low as to try to manipulate them like that.
Kourin isn’t the type. Suiko isn’t the type. The Kami know Kongo is a joke when it comes to conceal the truth, so lying convincingly is out of the question for him (and he wasn’t involved in that little ‘discussion’ with Naaza anyway). No, of all the Troopers, the only one Rajura could see pulling that sort of move is Tenku, and Tenku isn’t here, he’s still free, still fighting with Rekka to reach the Capital and try to free the other Troopers…
“After all, they were still too soft-hearted to finish the job.”
Rajura would not call himself soft-hearted by any means. He’s a warrior and a warlord. His history is written in the blood of his enemies.
Why does a spirit call him ‘soft-hearted’ to refuse to commit rape on a girl of fifteen?
Why does said spirit even care?
… Why does it feel vaguely like this very spirit knew what Anubisu’s revenge plan had been from the very beginning, and may or may not have encouraged her?
Rajura’s heart misses a beat.
Badamon cannot have known… right?
They hadn’t seen him in nearly a whole century before the Invasion!
He says as much.
“Yes,” Anubisu says slowly in answer, her brows furrowed. “I do not think I saw him since the last time I had to be purified.”
“… Me neither,” Rajura admits after a moment of reflection. Their interactions with Badamon have always been sporadic. Unless there was a big ceremony he was to lead, he seldom appeared at the palace, though Rajura knows he was never far, ready to be summoned by their Master.
“Yes, but… Rajura? Anubisu? Those purification rituals we went through after our arrival…” Naaza hesitates. “I tried. I’ve really tried to. But I can’t even remember what they were. Do you?”
And something in Rajura’s mind comes crashing, because he doesn’t remember either.
And from Anubisu’s look, she doesn’t either.
Rajura vaguely remembers she used to be more angry than usual each time she came back from… one…
… No. No, surely not, he thinks suddenly, eye blown wide.
“Kiku,” Anubisu suddenly calls, and at her call, a spirit materializes in the room, head bowed and hands folded neatly in front of her in the sleeves of a pale kimono. On the obi tied around her waist, she bears the crest of the Yami Masho, showing she’s one of his. She’s otherwise unremarkable. Most spirits hold a passing resemblance to each other, spotting the same haircuts and the same style of clothing.
Rajura sometimes wonder if they’re not all one massive entity, or if his mind is playing tricks on him.
“Anubisu-sama?” she asks in a voice that is barely a whisper in the wind. Most spirits have similar voices, voices that are deceptively soft and do not carry over, for all they are always perfectly audible.
Anubisu’s face looks carved in stone. “Kiku,” she says slowly. “Have you ever heard me talk about…” she falters. “Have you informed anyone of WHY I wanted to take Kourin to my rooms?”
It’s the politest way to word ‘did you know I intended to rape/have a captive raped’ that Rajura has ever heard.
But there is worse, much worse.
Because, now that the cat is out of the bag, the spirit’s slow smile is one of the most horrible things Rajura has ever seen.)
Betrayed.
Betrayed by their servants, which Rajura should have seen coming.
Not that the wisps think of their actions as betrayal, of course. They ARE loyal to the Masho, for the most part. But they’re still spirits bound to a higher will, a higher power than the Demon Generals. If they’re ordered to report their every move to Badamon or to Arago, then they will, though a few will muddy the truth as much as they can.
(“You are a fair Mistress, Anubisu-sama,” smiling, deceptively mild Kiku says as Anubisu stares at her with horrified eyes. Rajura wants nothing more than to run the spirit through with the nearest weapon, but he knows that won’t change much. “It’s always a pleasure to serve you. But he had asked, you see.”
“You told him… you told him I’m…!” Anubisu chokes out. “That I had a…!” She’s shaking, and the only reason neither Rajura nor Naaza are holding her is because she’s more likely to hit them than to accept their help right now.
Rajura is shaking himself, in anger more than in shock.
“Badamon-sama was unhappy there was nothing remaining of the blood and bones of the child,” Kiko keeps smiling. “He didn’t ask for the ashes, though, so I didn’t tell him.”
“Oh, and that makes it so much better!” Naaza hisses angrily.
Kiku blinks. “Should I have told him?”
“NO!” Naaza shouts at the same time as Rajura and Anubisu, their voice becoming one in anger and disbelief.
“What else have you told him, Kiku?” Anubisu asks, her voice faint but colder than the coldest wind of winter. “How many times I’ve slept with the others, maybe?”
Rajura and Naaza both recoil. That, they both think, is no-one’s business but theirs!
“Of course not, Anubisu-sama,” Kiku replies levelly. “He asked for how many nights you spent in each other’s company – not how many times you actually had sex.”
Wordplay, Rajura thinks. It’s all wordplay. You can tell a lot or avoid telling the full truth by using the right words or answering only in a certain way to a worded question. Kiku is an intelligent whisp, and she doesn’t truly mean harm, but Rajura is going to kill her. Her, and every other whisp like her.
“Is there anything else you want to tell me, Kiku?” Anubisu asks again, her eyes narrowed as she takes in the spirit’s placid face and sees something Rajura cannot. But then again, she knows this particular spirit more than him.
Kiku blinks once, twice, and tilts her head to the side. Her eyes roll around, as if checking for something before she talks at long last. Her voice is even softer than before. “If Anubisu-sama or one of the honored Generals were to go listen to what is being said in the throne room, or if they were to go and check on the construction projects that Arago-sama has ordered to be finished soon, I think Anubisu-sama would find it very interesting.”
She isn’t smiling anymore.
For some reason, it chills Rajura more than her smiles have.)
Rajura hasn’t changed his mind.
He’s still going to kill that damn whisp.
But he’ll be merciful and do it quickly, because she has given him a very good advice to follow.
Rajura has gone to the throne room, cloaked in illusions, and has heard Badamon and Arago talk about the Kikoutei armor that Rekka can don in battle, and how the Masho’s own power could be used to bring it forward and under their control.
Which wouldn’t be so bad… if spirit and Demon Emperor weren’t likening the Masho to pawns, not to be warned of anything.
Used.
They’re being used.
There… Things are all too tangled in Rajura’s head, his own certitudes ruthlessly torn apart.
He briefly thinks of the Troopers, still locked up in Badamon’s shrine, this fucking shrine that gives him the creeps and he’s starting to understand why.
(How much of his memories are missing, or have been tempered with?)
(He sees Kourin’s tearful face and naked body in his mind and wonders just how much harder Anubisu was pushed down that path of her volition, and how much wasn’t.)
(Doesn’t change the end result much, but… the implications behind are horrific.)
(Shuten… has he bolted because he had KNOWN?)
Naaza’s teeth have been clenched since Rajura’s return. The Gen Masho hasn’t dared to share what he has overheard, not when he doesn’t know if they’re truly secure.
He’s starting to think no place of the palace is.
Anubisu has gone to check out what the Jiryoushuu and the Youja assigned to Badamon’s orders are doing, using her power over darkness and her training to stay out of sight. Asides of Rajura, she has always been the best at spying.
When she comes back, nearly one hour after Rajura, they know she’s paler than usual even before she lets her mask slide back and remove her helmet.
“It’s not five sanctuaries the Jiryoushuu are building outside the Capital, but nine,” Anubisu reports, looking grim and vaguely sick.
Rajura closes his eye and breathes in once. Twice. Thrice.
Four heads in that Demon-headed shrine. Four Masho, even if they’re now only three. Five Samurai Troopers. Nine armors. Nine towers, build by a demon priest under the order of a Master they have loyally served, but who apparently see them as nothing more than tools.
Anubisu. Kourin no Seiji.
“After all, they were still too soft-hearted to finish the job.”
Breaking people and stroking hatred are things Jiryoushuu delight in.
Rajura’s resolve is made.
When he opens his eye again and he opens his mouth to speak, his voice is resolute and breaks no argument. “We need to leave the palace. Now.”
Naaza and Anubisu both look queasy, but they do not argue, which is good.
“You really think we can bolt and make a run for it just like that?” Naaza asks in disbelief.
Rajura snorts. “Of course not,” he replies. If they rush out like idiots all at once, they’d have no chance of escaping the Capital before Arago catches on them running for hills if they did. They’d get dragged back, and then what would happen to them, uh?
“But you have an idea, have you not?” Anubisu leans forward, face still grim.
Rajura nods. “I do not think it has escaped your notice that Kongo is quite the destructive whelp,” he comments offhandedly, and Naaza and Anubisu both blink.
“Right. The Troopers,” Anubisu mutters under her breath, her eyes wandering away. She’s likely thinking of Kourin.
“The Troopers,” Rajura nods.
Those annoying brats who have, somehow, managed to point out something Rajura had missed. That all the Masho (except, apparently, Shuten, and isn’t that the kicker given the way Shuten always rushed through, thinking his strength alone would grant him victory?) had missed.
Those annoying brats that Badamon has full access to now. Badamon, who could do anything to them… just like he might have to the Masho, if their suspicions are correct.
Nobody… Nobody deserves that, Rajura thinks with a flash of anger.
(He thinks of Kourin’s breasts in his hands, of lax limbs bending as he moves them, and of terrified violet eyes that are wet with tears.)
(He thinks of Anubisu and, for the first time, wonders if she had looked as scared herself when the man who raped her so long ago put his hands on her.)
(He thinks he doesn’t want that to happen again. To either of them. Or to Rekka, if she’s ever caught. And Suiko and Kongo may be males but… rape is a terrible thing, no matter your sex, and Naaza is mumbling a lot about children now.)
(It won’t happen again, Rajura swears to himself.)
“So… How are the two of you feeling about staging a prison break?” he asks faux-casually.
Twin looks of determination answer him at once.