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The scent of wood and leather felt overpowering as the dying light of day found its way through the windows and biombos that gave some semblance of freedom to the place Oyuki knew would be her tomb. Try to to become it, at least. She did not truly hold any kind of hope for what awaited her, not after Saito had been so sure, so full of himself, the moment he had requested for Jubei to be killed.
She rather had the lack of hope as an armour than the futile thought that kept on rearing its head the moment she let her mind wander far enough from the room she was in; as sunkissed as it was, as warm as it was. No, Oyuki had commerced with knowledge and knowledge came with the price of knowing that hope without previous work was nothing but stupidty, a lack of clarity into what men would do for one self, for others. Knowledge had always been what had kept her alive, what had kept her one step ahead when knives and blades and poison had peppered her life. She was pragmatic, needed to be, and as she glanced around at where Saito had left her, she took some precious seconds onto focusing on those men that, looking at each other, had positioned themselves around her, covering all flanks.
She had sensed their unease when they had first entered the space, had seen some darting looks, some whispered murmurs about her title, the one she had held before. She knew them to be confused, fearful, even.
Oyuki also knew that the surprise would soon transform into something much more lethal, a sort of disgust that would make the way they moved less silent and more obnoxious. She had dealt with men like these many times prior. Had poisoned and cut and left corpses behind dressed in clothes far less darkened by soot and ash than the ones she wore. Blood could bloom unseeingly from sharpened edges easily concealed on ones sleeves.
The problem being, of course, that she did not have any of her weapons. Nor the will, she surmised, to try to get one of the many kunais and katanas she was able to spy upon the soldier's belts.
She had taken enough of a glance to what laid at the other side of the fortress to know it would be nigh impossible to not be seen. Not with the sun high enough for the shadows to be long, yes, but not darkened enough. Oyuki wondered briefly if it that had been the reason why Saito had ordered her men to do it now. When the night was not close enough for her strength to return. She moved more gracefully when not burdened by the risk of her movements to be percieved. And if she ran away she needed to do so in a way that she would be able to reach Atsu as soon as possible. Saito had been clear enough on where he would go next.
The image of a burning tree took over, the way Atsu had protected the wasted soil as she Oyuki had stood, glancing at the tree, almost waiting for shadows to splint the trunk open, to cut her in half. She had vowed to protect it then, to protect what little peace was brought from the world of memory, the world Atsu still had inside of her, the one Oyuki felt as if about to fall into if she dared to look far too long.
The wooden floor was warm against her knees, the way it thrummed on her fingertips if she moved her hands forward enough to hunch her shoulders a quiet comfort as she kept on eyeing the soldiers, their faces beginning to turn colder, the way they eyed her losing the respect they might have once shown. She latched onto the youngest-looking one, the one at her right, the way he moved enough to tell her how quick he would be when making a mistake. How relentless the oldest one of them would be when shedding blood. She had studied the one at her back when he had first moved forward and then laterally, as if not quite sure how it would be best for the former Kitsune to address him and she could feel his presence now: not close enpugh yet. Looming.
Hope. Did she get to hope? To hope that she would be fast enough not once but twice, thrice, a fourth time. Fast enough to run, to reach the place she might even dare to call something close enough to be hers that she might taste it if she swallowed on her tongue long enough.
She had the thought, a half-formed one, of Atsu being the one running towards her. Futile. She might learn of where they were. She half-wished she did not so ire did not blind her. Her brother had been right after all: a kind of frenzy took over Atsu's mind the moment one of the Six were mentioned. She had felt it first-hand, had readied herself for it. Had wished for her repentance to be accepted if only so she was able to keep learning what it meant to live beyond death and loss. She had been sure Atsu would not grant her that. Had been surprised when weapons had been laid, blades down, sharpen edges back.
But even if, even if Atsu got to learn about them. The most pragmatic move, if any, would be to leave her there. A bait for Saito's men. A not-so-useful fox's mane. Even the most gorgeous one would lose its value if wounded. And Oyuki was smat enough to know when her knowledge was found lacking.
She thought back on the comfort and solitude the mask had brought, the idea of belonging that had been brought as her world had fell, turned into flames and dust so thick the back of her throat had felt coated in grime for weeks. The very same weeks in where sickness had spread and hunger had carried over in the shape of barely hidden ulcers around everyone's lips, mouth bloody where they dared to speak. She had felt herself slip further and further into the mask as everything had moved forward, a slowly transforming world in where nothing but silence existed.
To speak meant to exist. To exist meant to be percieved. To be percieved meant others would peer beyond the mask, the almost non-carved eyes, the way she moved and turned, fought and breathed.
She had been careful for her voice to never reach no one's ears but the man's who knew who she was.
Had given everything for it.
The soldier in front of her squared his shoulders, his eyes following the way she rocked slightly, testing the way the dull pain on her knees grew sharper for a second as her mind focused once more. Oyuki knew her time was up even before they moved into her space. She truly could be nothing against it, was ready for it.
She had heard the first horn and alarm, had glanced up as her eyes had darted towards the opened window: far too high for her bounded hands and far too dangerous for her lack of weapons. There had been hope, hope she had squashed as soon as she had felt it take root: as dangerous as wolfsbane was. A slow blooming attack, one in which every petal felt like filling her lungs slowly, suffocating her.
She had stood against Saito, her own hatred keeping her proud. But she was no child. She knew how her punishment would be different and how expendable she got to be when separated and found lacking.
Jubei? The man had been brave when pushed against the wooden floor, the shadow of the murderer responsible for his parents' death looming closer. She had nodded and requested calmness from him, no matter the restlessness he might feel. Calculated actions were better when not knowing what laid ahead. Jubei had been able to follow that wish. Until Atsu's name had been brought in and Oyuki herself had needed her own willpower to bite onto her tongue.
She had been able to see Atsu then, had been able to imagine her, a relentless spirit, one carried forth by wind and snow. Eyes darkened by the Onryō's shadow, katana in hand, and blood already tipping the scales. She had been able to imagine her maskless, upper lip curled, standing as tall as she was as she liberated her brother; as they both fought for the life that had been taken away. A tale made of legend. They both needed to have their revenge, to soothe the night she had seen painted in the way Atsu would turn towards her; stance firm, lips pressed together.
She was able to see that image. But doubted, doubted, she would get to see her again.
It was only fair, she thought, as the soldier's right hand went to his katana, testing her. Atsu needed to live where she did not. Atsu was a force of nature, a gorgeous avalanche. But still pragmatic enough, focused enough. She hoped, she wished, she prayed. Saito was not hidden among the four men that surrounded her. She was of no further use.
A thought that rattled against her ribcage as she swallowed, bitterly.
Because there was no doubt within her about who that alarm rung for now. With Saito at the fortress and her brother trapped Atsu would halt at anything to get inside. Despite how much Oyuki found herself wishing for something different, something that spoke of not the finality she had seen within Atsu the night she had requested for the doors to be closed as the Spider's men fell, one by one, screams puncturing every part of her that was not the monster she had wrapped herself into.
Oyuki followed the man's movements as she pushed herself back onto the soles of her feet so was able to take on the two men her peripheral vision allowed her to sense: there was very little she could to do the one at the back but she refused to be overt about it. Deep breathing, slow movements. The soldier's hand closed around the katana's hilt but released the weapon just as quickly, unsatisfied by her lack of reaction, by the way her eyes did not move rapidly, waiting for a strike.
She had been the Kitsune. Mind games were nothing but child's play.
It changed little, however, that when the first alarm had died down and nothing else had come from it, her heart had taken a second before it was able to beat again: she hoped for Atsu's life, wished that the alarm had been a mere fist fight between two soldiers, that if the ghost had slipped within, there was nothing but the cawing of crows where corpses now laid.
She ought to have stayed there in that beach. She would have fought and would have...
What? Made Atsu take a step away from the brink she had pushed herself into? Gorged in blood as she had wanted, no, needed to? How many times would her own mind made her think that she was able to help with screams that reached for the sky and for darkened ichor that run through veins and beating hearts that were convinced should have halted more than a decade ago.
The soldier that took the first step forward was the one at her right and Oyuki almost laughed at the way he did; at the way he looked at her, at the way he promised her something beyond wounded skin and marred pride.
"Lord Saito says we're not allowed to touch you" Oyuki arched one eyebrow at the wording and the promise beneath, so focused she was on the almost idea of how beaitufil could it be for another alarm to rung. For the battle to carry over.
So she could be useful. So she could prove herself.
The soldier kept on talking, voice noxious and bothersome and the picture he painted obvious enough for her to latch onto it. "...So when you are lashed, we can see every mark"
A futile idea. Pristine was not the word she would use for herself. Saito had left his own mark already, one that had been hidden but now burned on her arm.
Atsu had understood that better than most. What it meant when Oyuki had swallowed the scream that had threatened to break free as the tree had burned and the scent of quickly melting fat from bones that did not have that much to begin with, was revolting enough to coat the insides of her nose and mouth if she dared to do anything but focus on what her next second would be like. She had endured the marking, the punishment, what it meant when the loss of trust had wuickly been followed by an icy glare.
"The whip would be preferable to the sound of your voice" She spat the words but felt more focused on the world outside, the one she was capable of sensing if she listened enough. She wanted for the voices to end, truly, for them to fall silent so she could focus on a heartbeat that felt far too far.
She was no child. She knew, logically, that if Atsu had managed to get inside fortress the safest bet would be to take Saito as quickly as possible. If the man had remained, of course, if he had lied to her with the information fed via soldier. She hoped it was, for the Home at the top of the hill to be untouched. If yes, if Saito still hidden somewhere near, she hoped for darkened corners and aptly fastened wood so not scurrying feet would be heard. No witness, no time for any general to find her or her plan. That is how she would do it; clad in shadows.
Stop by to get Jubei, kill Saito, leave without no one knowing the breach they had suffered.
Leave herself be.
Oyuki closed her eyes for a moment as she imagined Saito, throat sliced, blood gushing forward, clothes covered in blood. She could iamgine it: Atsu standing, looking down at him, hands holding her weapons, knuckles white.
Beautiful. Hauntingly so.
The soldier spoke again and she felt her patience slipping as the silence she had conjured within her freed itself from her grasp. "You won't be so proud when you're stripped bare and bloody"
Irritation swelled as she looked up towards them, towards every single one of them. They had moved way closer than she had anticipated and now they towered, the one at her back close enough for the nape of her neck to feel the movement she would soon probably feel, of it to be grasped, for her head to be pulled.
"How far clan Saito has fallen" She spit nevertheless." If you are the best they have to offer"
She hoped for Atsu to be able to reach Saito's chest and push her katana against his heart until nothing remained if that meant for him and his men to disappear where they belonged even if she was sure, so sure, so used to, that she herself would transform into one a shadow, written off by those that spoke louder, that took up space.
Where her feet needed to be place where her hands could move to. She had learned that not as a kitsune not as a shinobi. How much was she able to say, how much she needed to listen.
She had heard the way Atsu's breath caught when she had moved closer as she had taught her how to listen, how to move like her. Had seen the way the younger woman had looked and glanced and had listened and grasped for the music to suffuse her in a state that would carry her away. Had felt the way Jubei had tilted his head, so similar to his sister's when Atsu had sang for the three of them, each verse an idea, an image, of what she saw of them.
"The Onryō will not bring you peace"
She scoffed as the men around her laughed darkly, the promise of harm twisting like a noose around their irises. How vapid she had been: what would have brought Atsu peace? Herself? Had she been so full of herself, so full of hope for a life, a different one that was not amidst snowy silence but...
She shook her head, glanced around, above, at the wooden beams, at the way the sunlight filtered through the open window; had there been yelps outside? The idea was a sweet one to lose oneself to but was not the smartest one to play with. Hopelessnes was better, made for a sharper weapon.
"A fox is not a wolf"
She knew as much. Did the fox want to change, though? Could it ever? She was comfortable with the more slender frame of the fox, the way it morphed and moved. She did not want to change, did not want to be anything but a fox.
To belong, however, that was something different. A quiet platitude for a home that was not hers to call for. A truth, she surmised, that no one else would get to hear.
Oyuki blinked, ready for the punishment, as quick or slow as it might be, shoulders tense. She would not cry out. The warmth the wood trapped inside the room not enough for her wrists to slide from the confines of the rope. The beams of light hitting against the wood's the softly colored darkness beckoning her.
She saw the shilouette before she was able to fully understand the flash of movement at her right, the way the soldiers had clearly decided that physicalityy would be forgiven if they moved as once. She heard the howling wind and the cleansing storm as a katana flung and a second voice called for her as she pushed herself to a standing position, sure calloused hands grabbing hers.
Atsu was here.
The thought was scorching. Iron hot and the scent of spring. Camellias in ever bloom: pink and reddish.
She knew her heart, traitorous as it was, and she allowed her eyes to travel upwards once more as Jubei moved to that same window, Atsu moving closer, a question and relief written all over.
"Are you hurt?"
How could she be hurt? The men laid at their feet; dead. The outside world would never reach any of them. Her wrists were hurt, maybe, but she was free.
Atsu moved, the weight of her body changing from one foot to the other, her eyes never wavering. Oyuki felt the need to assure her, to deny everything, to grant her everything.
"You are only here because of me"
"Don't" It was forceful, it rang true. "You never have to apologize to me"
Atsu sighed, taken aback, gorgeous and wonderful and alive. A sad smile broke through her face and Oyuki drank from her expression; the lack of blood spoke of a prophecy not yet fullfilled and the thought broke through her mind with enough force for her to wonder where Saito was.
The thought was pushed as Atsu glanced back at her, the golden light of the yet lit lanterns tearing bursts of sunshine from where they moved, breeze coming in.
"Let's go home"
And oh, how so she wanted home to be the place that would carry her, and Atsu, away from foul winds and darkened lies. A place to rest. To forget about bloodlust maybe, or perhaps not entirely but one in where the Onryō could rest. In where the Kitsune, the real one, the one that had been swalloawed by a vow to a clan that was truly no longer, could stay.
A place in where music could be heard, in where notes did carry the tales of those departed, in where a space for them could be built.
How much she wanted.
But then she knew they were out of time.