Chapter Text
Night and day had a hold over this place, a curious thing for children, a dreadful reminder for the rest. Here, the stars were things to hide from and the trees to fear. It was a survival instinct to look the same, to be molded into a strange shape and left to dry, no matter the cracks.
To the people of this crook in the mountains, however, the unusual was normal and any speck of individuality was something that needed to be withered without fail.
Children did not bypass that rule, as it was a necessary evil to squash ideas that others have not come up with before. You knew that better than anyone.
The very peaks of land had claimed you, your irises swimming with wisteria, pupils dilating with red, skin and hair of snow. You did not look your mother’s child, or anyone’s for that matter.
This body you owned was the eye of the storm, a pause before your parents went on with their days, to never look so lost again. So simple.
Until it wasn’t.
Food was scarce here, and money worse. All days were a rush of trying to get enough food to feed for the family and gain a good amount of money to last a while.
In your earlier years of life, you would stay home, as the sun would strangle you with its fiery rays if you dared step out. At the time, you were not aware of such dangers, or of the fear you would draw out of people by letting them know of your existence. No, all you knew was that your belly was full and body warm.
Mother would make sure you stayed away from the deceiving caress of the sun and the public eye by keeping you in her and your father’s shared room, her eyebrows often creased when she pleaded for you not to cry.
You were lucky then. All of you.
But when it is most needed, luck has a habit of disappearing.
Birds horrified you, more than anything else. Their dark, beady eyes that seemed to access the core of your soul, beaks sculpted to peel your skin and mutilate your organs, pluck out your eyes, only to coo at your sobs after they’re finished.
You fervently feared them, and the sight of a crow nestled on your window struck a chord of terror in your small, bleeding heart. You were six and afraid, so as quickly as your little legs could carry you, you ran into the common area of your home, crying for the embrace of your parents.
It was not just your parents there, however, but a woman with a weathered face and her four children as well.
Your mother’s body went rigid, her eyes dropping onto your crying form. In the dimly lit room, you were Venus, the brightest in the sky, gleaming ever so vividly as light poured onto you.
You were not as beautiful to the guests.
Shrieks and tears formed immediately, demands of what you were and what your parents had to do with a cursed child.
Is it yours?! Asahi, how could you hide this from me?! Do you wish to curse my family, too?! The woman cried, her voice strained by the end.
Sister, sister, please be quiet. This is my child, (Name), we were going to tell you eventually. We have not angered any spirits, (Name) is healthy and kind. Your mother soothed, and for a second, you believed she was calm, that everything was under control.
But her hand hesitated to rest on your head, a flinch, a second thought, fear.
You noticed. Your mother believed you were cursed, too. Whatever this woman you did not recognize was saying was true, and it was horrible enough for your mother to falter.
Lying to me? Now of all times? Don’t play yourself like that, look at it! What normal child looks like that?! I knew something was wrong, I could feel it when I walked in. The woman snarled, holding the baby boy in her arms closer. You assured me it was safe to rest here, that you had plenty of food and room to spare, but you have a demon lurking! You knew my son was sick when you let us come here, now there is no chance of him recovering! You’ve killed my son! You’ve killed him!
Now the baby was crying, too. You did not understand, of course you did not. What did she mean? Why was everyone yelling? Why were they crying? So many new things, people you did not know, words you did not grasp, truths you have never believed.
Sister-in-law, we are good people. Our home is filled with food and warmth, if we had angered spirits, how could we be blessed with such privilege? Your father challenged, though the desperation in his voice was not lost on you.
You made a deal with one of them! That’s why your child looks like that! Do you believe me stupid?! How many passing travelers have you tricked into staying here? How many lives have you ruined while that thing lies in wait?! The mother screamed, shoving her daughters out towards the door before slamming it behind her.
You had never seen your parents filled with so much sorrow, fear swallowing their faces. Your tears only kept running, and with deep resignation, your father took you to bed.
He did not look at your face, only at your ghostly hands, cupping them with his own. What scared you? He had asked you softly.
A crow. It had felt like a grand ordeal when you rushed out of the room, but your father’s mournful expression made you feel naive. You had ruined their night, hadn’t you.
His eyes widened for a fraction of a second. Goodnight, (Name). A heavy brow weighed on his face as his hands dropped.
In the coming days, there was more and more silence in the house, words only spoken during the hours of night when they thought you were asleep. That was the only real difference, until your parents stopped eating as much.
It was subtle at first, smaller portions of food for all of you, but when you began to be the only one eating, questions blew out your mouth.
What about you? What are you going to eat? You tilted your head to the side.
For the first time in what felt like forever, your mother met your confused gaze. Her eyes were droopy and her frown lines much more prominent than what you were used to. Things are hard right now.
You had ruined much more than their night. That, you were sure of.
It was not long after that incident that you had to start pulling your own weight. Before sunrise, your mother would wake you early and take you out to go on an “adventure”. Despite the horrifying change you had caused, she didn’t desire you to feel at fault.
Her attempts were futile.
You would go wash clothes and your mother would wrestle sellers for food. She did not ask for much, only a little, and a complaint never slipped out her mouth regardless of what they said. Your mother was an ordinary woman. Her sleek, obsidian hair pulled into a neat bun, gentle brown eyes scouring for any opportunity, skin tanned from days spent combating the tenacious sun.
Nothing remarkable, which was perfect. Her name meant morning sun, and rose with the star she did. Every day without fail.
(Name), you cannot come with me. There was no question on why. If they saw you with her, it would be a completely fruitless endeavor. No one would risk selling to her if the creature they were all afraid of was boring their gaze into them. Go wash these, please. Do not stray too far from the path, return before sun up.
Unlike her husband, your mother did not believe in the spirits or of the like. Her trust was in facts and firsthand experience. She would send you to the icy river that snaked through the edge of the village, no mind paid to all of the deaths she heard came from there. You loved your mother, and so you went.
Sometimes, you would see a boy off in the distance, his hair dark and unruly, menacing crows surrounding him up in the canopy of the trees. The first time you ever did, you were frightened beyond belief, the laundry basket abandoned as you raced all the way home, crying for help.
Your mother was obviously in disarray. She dragged you back to the river and demanded to see where this mysterious boy was. When you could not provide an answer, your lips only quivering, she did the work herself and barely spoke a word to you.
The furrow of her brows was pronounced, her lips a thin line. You had gone running for her out of fear, again. You had ruined things, again.
It was hard enough for your mother to depart into a swarm of superstitious people who believed she and her entire bloodline were harbingers of disaster, and you not being able to do a single job was hard enough. Clothes got dirty easily when people wanted you gone, and that was why this job was so critical to your family’s survival.
Some people would scream at her to get lost, that cursed ones were not welcome to buy from them. Others would ignore her, praying that she would leave if they pretended she wasn’t standing in front of them. Very few allowed her to buy from them. But no one stayed at your house anymore.
“Where is little (Name)?” Your father had returned from doing gods know what. It was impossible to tell the reason why he spent weeks away from home, but he always came back with money and treats, so you stopped asking questions after the first two times.
“Not so little anymore, if you have not noticed. Taller than me, now.” Your mother was collecting the eggs from the one chicken you had. “Speaking about how you have grown… (Name), get out of here and have these clothes washed. I shouldn’t have to remind you.”
“I’m sorry.” You shrunk in on yourself as you always did when on the receiving end of your mother’s irritation.
“Actually, I would prefer it if you didn’t leave today. Bad things have been happening recently.” Your father laid a heavy hand on your shoulder, the grip bruising.
A faint “Here we go again” marooned your mother’s mouth, to which your father scowled at.
“It’s serious, Asahi. There has been an increase in crows lingering around, things going missing, people disappearing. Everyone believes it is Karasu’s doing, and I am not exchanging (Name)’s life for clean clothes.” It was rare for him to be stern, but for your knees to buckle in fear? Not so much.
The feelings you held for crows had grown over the years, evolving into a bitter animosity rather than outright fear. They were always the root of your running, of you disappointing. They never meant any good.
“Which one is that again?” Your mother teased. “The one that turns people into crows?”
Dread swam through your veins. A spirit who turned people into crows, condemning them by its side for eternity? That was more than enough to make you lightheaded.
“Either that or he devours them.” As soon as those words left your father’s mouth, you leaned into his side, legs growing weaker.
A gleeful sound escaped Mother. “And they couldn’t get more creative than the name Karasu?”
Father was for once, not amused. “(Name) is not going out there.”
“Not today, but soon, yes. You’ll be free to soothe your fears and go along, if you’d like.”
“Five days.” It was not a question, and there was no argument.
You awoke to the Earth’s snore, a steady hum in the air. Even with a half-asleep mind, you got ready in record time. This was the earliest you had woken up, and it was the most intentional thing you’ve ever done and ever will. Your father was never not tired from his travels–That he refused to discuss with either of you– And you did not want him to wake up just because you were afraid.
You needed to be courageous for a change.
Fully covered and with a straw hat shielding you from future rays of the vicious sun, you trudged, with all the determination in your shaking heart, on to the river. It was a tedious, lengthy process, but you arrived soon enough.
Your family resided on the outskirts of the village, near the eerie woods that wrapped around the mountains. They were said to be home to horrifying spirits that wasted no opportunity to latch onto someone. The river where you washed clothes was a little farther from home than what your father felt comfortable with, but you have always done the chore here.
You wasted no time and began to wash the clothes. Due to the last wash day being missed, they had piled up, and so it demanded much more of your time to finish. The sun was beginning to rise.
The summer sun was the deadliest of all suns, and despite it being near autumn, you’d be awfully sorry if careless about coverage. It was frustratingly easy to get an ugly burn, you had learned that by following the arduous path of being lazy.
By the time you finished, the sun was blazing. You needed to get back urgently. Just as you stood up and turned, a splash and cry slit the atmosphere.
Your head whipped around at the distressing sound so fast it felt like you had collided with a rock.
What greeted your gaze was a bird. That was already horribly scary, but the charcoal pigment of her feathers was what made terror surge through your body. Crow.
Panic tightened your chest and coiled around your drumming heart. Your father had advised you to steer clear from the dark birds, as encounters with them had become increasingly more dangerous. But this one was… Drowning.
Wings flapping helplessly, caws of desperation, and you wondered if your grudge was worth the death of an animal that hadn’t–Could– but hadn’t harmed you.
You were not a monster, despite what most would claim.
Springing to your feet, your body ignored your mind as you chased down the bird, you threw yourself as close as you could and you grabbed her.
Your hands were shaking, or perhaps that was just the mind-blown creature. You sat up, your eyes blown wide as you gingerly held her like an unpredictable future. Your unpredictable future.
She trembled in your hands, staring at you, eyes brimming with something akin to… Humanity. Was this the manipulation spirits were said to have? A charm so distinct you would never notice as it poisoned your mind? The acute feeling against your throat was how you would imagine a blade’s pressure to feel.
The only sound inhabiting your ears was the rush of the river, steadfast and familiar. Nothing like the death-bringer in your arms.
But not for long, because her little beak bit your hand and you let go immediately with a scream. Tears bubbled in your eyes, because this was a crow, and you saved it. You saved a beast so heinous it repaid your good deed by biting you. “Why would you bite me?!” You cried, hand pressed against the narrow wound.
It huffed discontentedly before shaking itself off, its feathers glimmering with the shine of water and mystique befitting of a terror. You stared at the damn thing in disbelief with disdain beyond your senses. Now safely on the ground, the crow took the time to pour its blue gaze into your soul, unease gnawing your gut.
It felt like it was peeling you open, and it hurt. A floaty pain enveloped your form. Her beak was nowhere near you and yet, the sensation of you getting skinned off was ghosting over every inch of you.
“You’re very ungrateful.” You mumbled, though it wasn’t that sophisticated, because you were sniffling and trembling like a leaf.
That was clearly the wrong thing to say, because she spread her wings soaked with night and lunged at you. Your arms crossed your face off in an ‘x’, and her beak held onto your arm as she settled onto your head, your straw hat long forgotten.
When she was sure she was stable, your arm was released immediately. “Uhm…” You let out a shuddering breath. “Could you please get off me? I am sorry if I offended you…” The words that escaped your lips were said with an embarrassingly meek voice.
The absurdity of the situation was shoved aside, because the very real crow was nested on your very real head, and the apology you were offering her was very real, too.
You stood there in an uncomfortable silence and your brain finally finished processing a vital fact of this whole interaction.
Normal crows do not have blue eyes. The realization made your heart sink to the pit of your belly.
Now you were sure tears were slipping down your cheeks.
The crow on your head cawed again, and you desperately wanted it off there.
Though your heart ached, you spoke. “You’re… You’re one of Kara… Karasu’s crows, aren’t you?” A gulp.
The entity grew very still, before spreading its wings and launched itself off you. It vanished into the forest before you could even wrap your head around what you just said.
You had saved a crow. It bit you. It had blue eyes. Regular crows did not have blue eyes. It was a spirit’s crow. Karasu’s crow. The very same crows suspected to be spreading misfortune wherever their wings led them.
You fell to your knees, the sizzling of your mind and the scorn of the sun chafing you.
The whole walk home, it felt like dozens of pairs of eyes were pinned to your back, prickling your skin like rusty needles. Your gaze drifted upwards and behind countless times, and nothing met it. Though, as you tore through the wind, the feeling did not subside. On the contrary, it grew fiercer, like canines nipping your heels.
Your home’s humble shape cooed to your mind, and even as the neighbors ripped you apart with their eyes alone, you did not care. That, you were used to. People eyeing you with a vehement fear was something you could hold on your shoulders steadily, the anger solid and heavy.
The ghost of gazes? It felt like waking up with more bruises that weren’t there before: The realization you no longer slept alone, that something else was inhabiting your house.
How were you supposed to hold something that seeped under your skin at the touch? Infiltrating your veins like a venom to cure peace?
“I’m home.” You released the words into the delicate air of the house.
“Do you want to tell me where you have been?” The eerie serenity emitting from your mother was the telltale sign of her wrath.
“I was washing the clothes.” You set the basket down in front of you, eyes stuck to anywhere else but her weathered face.
“I was not aware that something so trivial would take until sunrise.”
“I’m sorry.” It was a pathetic sound.
“You are nineteen, far from a child, (Name). Even when you were one, you understood the sun was dangerous, you understood that you were… Unique.”
“Unique.” The adjective was bitter on your tongue.
I never understood. I always thought I was normal. In my eyes, children were not allowed to go outside and did not see their parents until the late hours of the night. I did not know I was unique. I did not know I was cursed. The words almost escaped you, but there is an empty feeling that swallows them, a void where all truths are compacted into nothing.
That was what your life was always going to be, was it not? Nothing. Spirits did not get to flourish in sunlight and thrive forever in its glow, did not fall in love, did not get to share stories and laugh, did not get to live. You were condemned to an eternity of isolation the day you were born.
You stared at your mother, and the look on her face made you wonder if she truly did believe that she could bury you under the word “unique” and expect you to die silently. Was this her trying to justify depriving you of a regular childhood by saying that you understood all of these restrictions?
A sort of acid bubbled up to your throat, though you pushed it back down with a desperate haste. You should not think like that. You had ruined their lives. They never asked for a child that appeared the way you did, it was not just you that suffered. You, at least, had no warmth to miss, this was your whole existence. But your parents? Long ago, they were loved by people. Embraced by their respective families, one with the flow of the village, ordinary faces in the crowd. They were people.
You shattered any ordinary future for them. Your very existence had practically spelled their deaths.
“It will not happen again.” You hung your head.
She does not grace you with an answer.
And for the strangest reason, it brought you a sense of relief, to not hear her voice. At that moment, there was no tangible possibility of you being able to handle the crisis any more of her words would bring you.
So many things you would not, could not be able to steady on your burdened shoulders.