Snow Falling - Part III (and the last).

[wraithwitch.livejournal.com]

Inari’s shrines at Fushimi weren’t exactly on her way; to be more accurate they were south when she was supposed to be heading north... But her sensai had said that a week was allowed for the Jade Sentai to gather after the call had been sent, so Ash hoped she had a day to spare.

She travelled in the umbra as a wisp of cloud, letting the breezes left by spirit airts speed her journey. At Fushimi she slipped back into the realm but retained her element, bounding through the leaden sky as an errant zephyr. The red torii that lined the path to the temple were topped with snow and the ground was thinly blanketed in white; something she took to be a good omen.

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Tsuko Yukimaru stood before an old stone shrine in the temple grounds; the garden was closed from view by a gate and a screen of cherry trees. The space was deserted, the shrine used only by the priests and Messengers, and he the only one who insisted on standing outside in the snow.

He had been standing there for some hours, although he neither knew nor cared how many. He had lit sticks of incense and watched them turn to perfumed smoke. Snow had settled and melted upon his robes, soaking the fabric and turning the colour an even darker, stonier blue, making room for further flakes to settle. His skin was as pale as the weather and his fingertips so numb they burned, but he still wasn’t cold enough. There was a warmth hiding in his heart, struggling to thaw the rest of him; a hope he had not felt in decades.

Worthless idiot! He chided himself. Why – why did you watch her? Why did you... his thoughts veered sharply away from the phrase ‘fall in love’ because even to think it was to admit it – and that was very dangerous indeed. Why did you mark her? He demanded instead. Did you hope perhaps when she saw it in the mirror she would seek you out? That she would want to befriend you? She has been called to serve the Jade Sentai, if she comes to speak to you it will be to demand you take the ghost mark off her! Idiot.

Yukimaru blinked the snow from his eyelashes and focused on the statue of Inari in front of him. Prince Inari, favoured lord – brother - hear me. I have not been steadfast in my service to you, but if ever my actions have pleased you, I beg you, grant my prayer. Let me live as ice, let me never set eyes upon her again...

Prince Inari heard the prayer, but as often is the way in these matters, had his own ideas about exactly how it should be answered. To prove this, it was precisely at that moment that Ash stepped out of the air and into the garden in the shadow of the shrine, two footed and dressed for travelling, a small sake flask in one hand, delicate drinking bowls in the other.

Yukimaru almost stepped back, too shocked by her presence, too snow-blind to endure the vivid crimson of her hair when his world had been black and white for so long.

She bowed and smiled, offering the flask and cups to him. “Would you care to join us?”

The ghost mark on her cheek scorned him. ‘Us’ she had said and she held three drinking bowls in hand. In his hope and weakness he had chosen someone already spoken for – and now his mistake had returned to haunt him. He wondered if her partner was hidden, watching them and laughing at his expense. He could not and would not tolerate such a thing.

Yukimaru’s expression composed itself once more into perfect glacial indifference. “I’m sure it is the right of one such as yourself to mock your inferiors. But even those such as I have work to do, and cannot spare time for your sport.” With this he bowed and turned away, welcoming the cold into his heart – only let it come faster, please Inari, let it come faster...

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For a moment Ashriel was so blindingly angry that she wanted to flame bolt him; but given the frailty of foxes she supposed that would be unkind. What the hell was his problem? Did he truly think she had travelled to Fushimi as some sort of joke, to laugh at him? What with feeling so nervy and sick and not being able to get him out of her head Ash really didn’t think there was anything to laugh about. Or perhaps Yee Lin had been wrong about him: perhaps Tsuko Yukimaru lived the way he did because he liked being miserable.

That thought made her even angrier.

The flask of sake and drinking bowls were dropped as Ash shifted, four footed now and the size of a wolf. The silver-white fox with blood red markings coiled like a spring and then barrelled at full force into the young man’s back, knocking him to the ground. Snapping and growling, she harried him so he rolled over but would not let him sit up. Forepaws pinning his chest, and lips curled back from her fangs, she growled.

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Bruised and winded, Yukimaru was aware that Ashriel was shouting at him – but the words were neither Fox nor Kitsune-Go, in fact they seemed like the war-speak of the Khan. The beginning sounded like an insult, but after that was a question or demand and he had no idea what it was. The phase was repeated by the increasingly irate six-tails.

“Ashriel-sama,” he managed after forcing air into his lungs. “Forgive me, but I do not understand!”

The growling faded, changing instead to a frustrated huff. The six-tails turned her head to the side with a grimace and then said as clearly as she could manage in Japanese, “Idiot! Stay. Drink.” The last word may or may not have been a request – it was difficult to tell.

Pinned to the ground still, and with snow turning uncomfortably to ice-water against his bruised spine, the Messenger had something of an epiphany. He should not be worrying whether or not Ashriel held any affection for him, whether his attraction to her was foolish or whether she already had a mate. He should in fact be worrying whether or not Ashriel was going to tear out his throat. He swallowed with difficulty. “I would be honoured to drink with you, Ashriel-sama.”

The huge fox narrowed its red eyes, as if not entirely trusting him, before stepping away. When Yukimaru had picked himself up and brushed a little of the snow from his sodden clothes he found Ash was two-footed once more and recovering the sake. With some pretence of formality – as if her loss of temper had never happened – she set one of the bowls at the foot of Inari’s statue. She then unstoppered the flask, pulled out a slightly wobbly and inebriated flame spirit, and poured a measure of hot rice wine into the bowl, wishing the Shinto godling good health as she did so. That done she reclaimed the other two drinking bowls, filled them, and held one out to the Messenger.

Yukimaru accepted it with all the grace he could muster. “Your health, Ashriel-sama.”

The light in her eyes changed. “Don’t call me that!” A pause. “I would take it as a kindness if you simply called me Ashriel, or Ash.”

To fit no honourific to her name implied an intimacy he had not earned but dearly wanted. He smiled hesitantly, unsure what to offer in return. He did not have any nickname, for in avoiding friendship he had no friends to bestow one. All he had was the name Kitori had given him, unused and unwanted since her death. “Then... you should call me Yuki.”

She grinned. Just as in English Katherine could become ‘Cat’, so in Japanese Yukimaru became Yuki – ‘Snow’.

“To your happiness, Yuki,” she saluted, figuring he needed it more than health, and drank her sake, welcoming the sharp heat as it flowed down her throat. The Messenger followed her lead, drinking some of the pale still-steaming wine, but not looking at his ease as he did so.

Ash tried not to scowl, wondering what was wrong now. She had never known something so simple as the offer of a drink to become so complicated. Unbidden she heard he mother’s voice in her head - rough, warm and unabashed - and had to bite her lip in case she laughed.

Her mother was of the opinion that there was nothing like a Southern Puma Queen kicking a wolf up the backside to stop the wolf from moping. Something she had demonstrated anytime Wynne turned up looking miserable. (“Spit it out, sugar,” being her usual practical command. “Ain’t got time t’fix your heart lest I was the one that broke it.”) Silhouette would then listen to Wynne’s complaints and either kiss him until he shut up or cheerfully suggest they go kill whatever it was that was making him unhappy.

Somehow Ash doubted that a wry command of, ‘Get off your cross, honey, we need the wood,’ were the words she needed to force Yuki to talk to her. “I must leave before nightfall,” she said instead, hoping that whatever was on his mind might get hurried forward.

Yuki took a breath and steeled himself, forcing the words out with a supreme effort. “Ashriel... I would be honoured if you would give me the name of your family so that I may ask their permission to court you.”

For a moment her eyes widened and then she did laugh.

The Messenger immediately looked stricken.

She hurried to make amends, her Japanese sounding strange as her voice lost its polish. “Oh, sugar, I’m not laughing at you! Not for an instant – I swear to Selene! It’s just...” Well, it was two things really. The first was that the only other proposition she’d ever received of the kind had been from Jamie, and his words had been, ‘Ere, darlin’ you smell really good. Yeah! I like you. How about it?’. And secondly, since Silhouette had claimed Ash as her daughter despite the changes from Flux, that meant taking Yuki to Arizona and the Sept of the Fearless Heart. Which was probably not what he was expecting. “What do you actually know about me and mine?”

Yuki’s eyes narrowed in a slight frown. “It’s said you were orphaned in the West, raised by the Sunset Garou until at last you found your way home to us.”

Ash winced. “That,” she said definitely, “isn’t even approaching true.” She looked at the sky, trying to judge the time and then shivered. “Dear Selene it’s cold! How come you’re not frozen?”

The Messenger smiled wanly.

“Come on,” she instructed, taking the drinking bowls, placing them on the ground and filling them with the last of the sake before shifting into fox-form.

The sliver-white fox with crimson markings watched the Messenger expectantly until he followed suit and became a sleek black fox with a silver tip to his tail. White fur and black fur curled together at the foot of Inari’s shrine like an uneven yin yang symbol.

*Things start some years ago with a Bastet, the Legendary warrior Silhouette, who was travelling through the deep umbra and strayed into the den of the great spirit Teeth-of-the-Land, who was old when the world was young... damn your paws are cold! Anyway, she had kits by him – a girl and a boy – one born to the realm, one to the mirror lands and both as much trouble as each other...*