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He sat on the tatami in a room he had booked for tonight. The storm unfortunately isn’t kind enough this time these days as thunder continues to drum to his ears. In between him was his medicine box and a large mirror belonged to the inn he had put down in the front as he sat and lean towards it.
His Taima sword has been lay on to the mat next to him as well; and its restriction papers – which used to wrap the sword to damp its power - have been long stripped from his previous journey.
He had already changed his whole garments to something much simpler: a light green yukata, given by the innkeeper for his stay of tonight. His kimono and robe were quite heavy from the amount of water it absorbs, and he had to hang it on the clothes rack inside the room to be dried.
He takes a glance at his reflection, and frowns upon seeing it. Most of the vivid markings he put on the previous two mornings were now smudged and almost colourless, safe for some left around his eyes and temple, leaving quite a mess on his face.
He was hoping to be able to sleep soundly without the thought to repaint it.
It’s a wonder why both the innkeeper and his maid looking awfully aghast upon his arrival. He’s looking more like a very pitiable man on their doorstep.
And it was all thanks to the raindrops from the rain he threads through, washing most of his markings away that he got a small room discount for it from the innkeeper respectively.
He could ignore the mess and bathe in the hot springs by tomorrow morning, but the way the lines of the markings slowly drips off of his face and onto his new changed yukata without any sign of drying makes him look more like a drenched wet cat.
He mindfully doesn’t want to be distracted by the markings as it continues dripping; and he sure doesn’t want to know what kind of mixed taste he’ll get while he’s asleep.
He dejectedly sighs.
He sat down as he folds a large towel taken near from the hanging coat and rubs off the rest of the colourful paint.
He could feel somewhat of a presence watching him, and the constant dimming, sort of buzzing sound that runs in his ear previously now completely gone away.
There was a faint sound of water dripping, but pays no mind to it, as of now.
After several minutes passes by and he could feel all of it has been successfully removed, he lifts the former white towel up, now tainted with mixed colours along with a pungent, medicinal smell.
His appetite was near to none. He will now eat something right by tomorrow.
He looks once again at his reflection in the mirror. He has quite good-looking feature adding to the fact that his skin was naturally adorned, being as white as a blank canvas. Even if they caught a small glimpse, most men nor women would surrender to his otherworldly charm, if it weren’t for the markings painted over it.
Moreover, aside from making him look less otherworldly – he doesn’t believe it does -- it also acts as an additional spirit ward in case of any trickster Ayakashi plays a prank on him, nor any Mononoke spread its influence negativity through his mind.
Still, it is best that the attention towards him were kept to its minimum, as too much will become too problematic to handle. Especially dealing with those who involves with the Truth.
Well tonight, he had a sudden thought,
That--
-Perhaps, this could be a good opportunity.
He opens one of the drawers of the wooden box then took out three palm-sized jars. There's a strong smell of medicines from it, but it doesn't bother him as he continues to take out varieties of small brushes and cottons in another drawer.
It's not usually a must routine to recolour the face marks, unless it is noticeably becoming ineffective, but he also finds it as a relaxing hobby for him to indulge in, setting aside all of those horrible acts of human beings that he witnessed along his journey; and this time wasn’t an exception as well.
Humans sometimes CAN be horrifying.
However, as he opens up one of the jars - which supposedly contain a blue concentrated liquid- that he uses to paint his face with, he finds out that its content to be very low on quantity. It is not even close enough to fully redo his markings.
He puts down the jar and opens up the other two, disappointed to see the same result as the previous ones.
He lets out another small sigh.
"We’re running low on stock,"
As the Taima sword’s jewelled eyes immediately trails its eyes towards him, his ears caught on as the continuous faint dripping sound of water in the room becomes more apparent along with the new oncoming footsteps –
--drip.
-drip—.
-drip…
.. it stops.
He feels an invincible presence from behind, slowly moving its way towards him and craning its head forward. Strands of long black hair caught up on his side of shoulder, covering the figure’s face from the side view.
"It sure looks like it," Using the man’s own voice, the presence flatly replied, bringing an otherworld atmospheric to it.
It is as if he’s talking loudly to himself, but no one can hear it.
"I had countlessly told you not to waste it," It added, "It's unnecessary."
He could feel the presence’s breathing both got and cold on his neck.
“Now mind you, how would you fare now without the markings act as your protection against Mononoke’s deceit?” The voice berates him, like a scolding parent, “We wouldn’t know for sure when will the next Mononoke appear, and you seem to take your sweet time to prepare the concoction.”
He pursed a thin line on his wet-now-dry lip, reasoning himself to the figure. "I wouldn't be, if they weren’t such a headache most of times we slain them."
He had to admit, it had become an uncontrollable habit to do every time purifying Mononoke turns heavy with the burden he weights off of afterwards.
And he knows his other starting to feel the same, too, as it listens to his thoughts out loud.
"I'm a divine being with a temper as great as a thunder." Their voice purred slightly as he questioned him, pressing himself behind his back, “And a patience as high as a mountain,”
The man could feel the weight gradually being put onto his back by the figure, as he bows his head low in protest, "And you couldn't even handle what's worse to come for us, ..yet?"
He narrowed his eyes, eyes fixed front and refuse to turn towards the figure.
The voice added once more, his thoughts engulfed by the figure’s booming voice,
“And you’re assigned as a Wielder of Kon.”
This small petty argument has been going on for some time now, and they both know there’ll be no end out of it if one doesn’t decide to surrender.
He manages to raise his head up high onto the left to see the figure’s full dissatisfied face.
The figure skin is tanned, with two purple dot marks adorned above his eyes. While the eyes were sharp, it was even sharper when he continues to furrow towards the man. His flat voice betrays his facial expression moments prior.
The figure also had somewhat of red markings – etched onto only his face now wet and smudged – embroidered on his whole physique, dripped down; yet there are no sign of the red droplets present on the mat. Its prominent circular patterns continues to remain static like engraved tattoos.
Still,
the dripping sound faintly continues.
"Then," His eyes stared to the entity beside him. The moonlit eyes with black sclera burning intently on his, "Maybe it's time for you to go and seek for another wielder aside from I." The man suggested. His voice laced with a hint of teasing, but not along with a rudimentary tone in it.
The figure snorts. "Until I found someone who are worthy enough to handle all three states of slaying Mononoke, then, I am stuck bonded with you."
The man seemingly pleased with the statement. “Of course. But…”
He shakes off his head playfully. His wisteria-coloured hair sweeps in the winds of his making.
"I very sure am the same as my peers; as with most of the others before,.. and after me," He added, shagging his shoulders slightly. "You know that I'm quite also as equally enjoying human sexual pleasures, much as both the same for my appetite."
"You're so ridiculous," The figure barks almost a laugh, his eyes slightly rise in contempt at his statement. He lowered his gaze and inches off away from the man’s face. "And here I wonder why I'm still by your side all the way through."
He joins in chuckling with the voice as well, finding the conversation tad bit amusing.
"Well." He concludes as he looks back at the Taima sword; its eyes continue staring at him. “That’s one thing you can wonder to yourself about.” He caresses gently at the grip of the sword.
They make way at a stagnant pause before the man asks the figure -
“..Aren’t you going to wash away your markings, too?”
The strong figure rubs his free finger at the marking on his face, looks at it and back to the man. “…After you’re done with yours,” His eyes had a hint of protest.
“A protection ward can still protect, even if it has been weakened,”
A small smirk appears on the man’s lips. Without the lip markings, it was easier to tell what he’s feeling right now. Perhaps an amusement from hearing the other’s words, or maybe a form of excuses. “Very well.” He lets out small sigh.
"Until then, stay put while I do my work, would you?" He picks up the Taima sword that still laid down on the mat.
Its eyes moves wildly as he pick it up from the ground and its moving teeth rattles in protest, but he pays no mind to it and tucks it back into its fancy box. His invincible companion’s presence gradually fades as well, and the long crow black hair slowly retreats out of his view.
Yet he knows that his other is still next him, now laying dormant. He could feel it from the same invincible hand still touching gently on top of his other hand.
He temporarily fixes his sitting position with his legs-crossed, and takes out small substances from his medicine box. He opens a drawer and reveal out several herbs, each flower and buds naturally coloured. He puts out a mortar and a pestle from a different drawer and set it aside, proceeding to sort the herbs by each of its individual colour.
The herbs he specifically took out were also in a bit of less quantity he had expected, but it would be enough to recolour the markings just for tonight.
He might have to scout near the mountains for these soon, he voices his own opinion in mind.
He takes out three small bowls to put the crushed herbs in. The bowls were glimmer with gold edges on its black and inner red ceramic pattern.
"This enough will do," He quietly said as he starts to pound the blue-coloured herbs. He continues to pound the yellow and red herbs next, each bundled together separately to avoid from it being mixed.
Each herbs were set aside in different bowls; Each with its own one specific colour. The process repeats until all of it turns into a fine powder.
The room was silent with the sounds of material being grind to a rough surface. It lets out tranquil atmosphere onto the room accompany by the drumming of the heavy rain.
In the end, he got himself some blue, yellow and red-powdered herbs on each of the ceramic bowls. He folds his end of yukata sleeves to the far back of his arms.
Now to concentrate it-
A knock on the sliding door can be heard, his ears perking at the sudden sound.
The sudden knock also temporarily wakes up the presence as he felt him rise and sits up from his slumber.
Both the presence and him simultaneously turns at the door as they heard a soft voice of an elderly woman from the other side.
"Um.... excuse me for bothering. But- you are an apothecary of sort, yes?”
There was another pause. His golden eyes looks toward the ofudas that which had been plastered on each corner of the door in the room.
All were blank, as of now.
“Who are you?” He flatly asks.
“I stumbled upon you while walking through here,” The woman voice was slightly muffled from the other side of the sliding door, but he could hear it very clearly.
He remembered there’s a sound of a crying boy from inside of a room ahead of him. She must’ve caught a glimpse of him when he went in.
The woman continued.
“My son suddenly having a terrible cold and fever from this weather, and I was wondering if you have any medicine for his condition."
.
..
He doesn’t manage to restock those said supplies underneath this rain, but --
He reflectively looks back at the herb powders he has pound. All of these were coincidental enough for the said medicine symptoms, likewise, and were all enough to attend for the sick boy.
Another thunder strikes far outside the heavy rain, the whole inn rumbles from the source after a pause.
He could hear his companion growls in frustration upon these coincidences.
Medicine Seller finally stands up and slowly makes his way towards the door.
He mumbles out his thoughts, "So much for a silent night," and lets out another sigh.
~~~~~~
End.