moonshadows

I don't wash the clothes with water any more, but it's not enough. I do the mending through chi, mine and Kaylin's, Gojyo's and the overclothes the clinic uses. I light the stove through chi, dry my hair through chi, cool the pitcher of water that sits on my desk through chi. It's still not enough. My last patient had split his knee open falling on some rocks as he played after school. I disinfected the gash, closed and healed it so thoroughly that there is no scar – and also cleared up the allergies he'd been suffering from, although I didn't mention that bit. The patient before that had had a baby with a fever, and she herself had been fighting off the same illness. Both cured through chi. Still not enough. I don't eat breakfast anymore. My lunch and dinner contain mostly foods that aren't good for chi-production. I've been using every trick for chi-control and expenditure I know, everything I've worked out over the last five or six years, and still...it's not enough.

Nervously, I run my thumbs over my fingernails, testing them for points. Right Action. I will not hurt myself purely for the chi-expenditure that would be required to heal the injury. There is a stunted peach tree in the courtyard by my office. It's suddenly perked up in the last few months, and everyone remarks on how strong and healthy it looks now – even putting forth a few peaches that look like the tree was startled into doing it and didn't quite know what it was doing. With no other outlet for my chi, I have been pouring the excess into that tree. I have to.

I'm outgrowing my inhibitors.

It's not the first time. When we faced the four sisters who had been infected by a parasite-youkai, I had been suffering the first glimmerings of being overpowered. The solution had been easy; they all wore inhibitor earrings, and I'd taken a wound to the abdomen, so I hid one of the earrings in the wound. That little stunt had almost backfired on me when the scorpion-youkai had abducted Sanzo; I'd had to re-open the newer wound and take the earring out before I could finish neutralizing her poison. Luckily, with Goku having gone rampant, everyone else was injured as well and my bandages didn't stick out. Even with such a small inhibitor, though, the setback to my chi was tremendous and I went another two years and change before the problem started resurfacing a few months ago. Now that the Gyumaoh experiments have been taken care of, youkai inhibitors are more common – but still very, very expensive. I don't know of any legitimate way I could get my hands on one without anyone noticing, so I do the only thing I can think of.

Anything I can to keep my chi levels low.

My masks are still firmly in place, but Gojyo and Kaylin know me better than most. They know something's making me edgy. I can't bring myself to discuss it even with Gojyo, who's heard almost everything about my chi. My lips press together in a thin smile, almost a grimace. Gojyo, the only one to see me even partially in youkai form and live to tell the tale. It was a random skirmish somewhere on the road, but a youkai had gotten a lucky strike with an axe and cracked Gojyo's skull. My rage had caused one of the inhibitors in my ear to pop open, overwhelmed by the rising chi which had then gleefully started to turn me into the youkai I am, no matter how I may try to deny it. Luckily, obliterating the rest of the attackers and closing Gojyo's skull had expended that flood of chi, and the inhibitor closed again once my rage had cooled. But Gojyo had still seen the first signs – the almost-claws, the elongated not-quite-fangs, the barest hint of points to my ears, and the skin that darkened in a fake tan except where the ghosts of a thousand scars loomed in pale glory. Perhaps it is because Gojyo has seen that much that I am reluctant to bring up the subject with him.

Even now, after all this time, I am not comfortable with what I have become. The time I took off my inhibitors in order to defeat the mob of divine youkai, I could feel that earring in my abdomen. It was like a weight around the ankle of a swimmer, or a runner. I could feel it holding my chi back, shackling me, hobbling me, keeping me from becoming wholly youkai. It also kept me of such a size that my clothes were strained, but not split open. I don't know precisely what I looked like, just the parts I couldn't help but see. The six-inch claws. The tough hide on my arms, just barely lighter than Sanzo drinks his coffee, covered by fur so fine and short it may as well not be there. The scars, starkly white against that dark skin, marking places no knife ever met my flesh and evoking the memories of a thousand murders. There are things I know but never saw and don't care to dwell on. The tail, for example. I could feel it, vestigial but still there. I'm fairly certain I had hooves, and my teeth seemed to be outside of – or attached to – my lips, because when I screamed, they swung out of the way and became weapons. I didn't use them as such; that circle of razor-sharp fangs could easily tear the throat out of any attacker, but the thought of that repulsed me even then.

And now, with my chi still pushing at my skin from the inside despite my best efforts, every day is a tightrope walk. I can feel my nails become pointed sometimes; when that happens, I freeze the water in the pitcher, or shunt it into the peach tree. But nothing I do ever does more than just take the edge off of it. I can feel people around me, through walls. Gojyo is coming up the street; something has pleased him, there are sparkles in the magenta of his chi. I hear the nurse greet him, and smell the cigarette smoke that still clings to him as he approaches. I let him knock on the door, however, before I open it.

“Well, well,” he grins, every bit as satisfied as the cat that got the cream. “Can Doctor Hakkai take time out of his busy schedule for lunch?”

“Ah,” I smile, a familiar mask that I can see doesn't fool him despite his best efforts to fool me, “I suppose so. Did you have someplace in mind?”

Despite his casual demeanor, the sparkles in his chi brighten. “Oh, I saw someplace that looked interesting.”

“Well then,” I say, playing along, “let me get out of this coat and we'll check it out.”

I remove the overcoat and overpants of the woven reed fibers, cleaning them needlessly through chi before draping them on the back of my chair, and we head out. I let Gojyo lead, since he knows where he is going, and we end up at a little sandwich shop that just opened across from the barber's. To my surprise, however, Gojyo casually walks up to an older man sitting at one of the tables and seats himself with a smirk.

“Hakkai,” he says grandly, waving at the man sitting across from him, “Meet Chesu. He's on his way to Weilan to set up a shop.”

I bow formally before seating myself next to Gojyo. Chesu inclines his head to me, looking intently at my left ear.

“Gojyo mentioned that he had a friend with inhibitors,” Chesu says. “I take it that you are he.” It's not a question.

I smile, hiding a grimace. “I am.”

His chi peaks into leaf-green and lemon yellow, and he leans forward as Gojyo orders for us. “Do you wear them every day?”

The question catches me off-guard, and my smile slips into a poker expression. “Ah, yes, and at night as well.”

“Then, you never take them off?”

“Ah,” I shred a complimentary roll nervously. “Not if I can help it.”

“And how long have you worn them?”

Goodbye, Gonou.

“Close to seven years now.” The words are crisp but emotionless. I firmly clench my hands in my lap, feeling my emotions starting to overwhelm my inhibitors.

“Incredible, just incredible,” Chesu murmurs. “Most youkai can't stand to wear inhibitors for longer than a few hours.”

The memory of that one night swims before me, and I remember what it was like to have that earring shackling my chi. I suppose that if a youkai was used to their chi – and what youkai, aside from me, isn't? – then the sensation of having it inhibited would be incredibly stifling.

“Gojyo tells me you are a chi-healer. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” I answer, grateful that the subject is on more emotionally stable ground.

“And you don't remove your inhibitors to do healing?”

“No,” I say slowly. “I never have.”

“Amazing,” Chesu murmurs again. “If you don't mind me asking, where did you get your inhibitors?”

“They belonged to Hyakugan Maoh.” The words slip out before I can stop them; with my nerves strung so tight lately, Right Speech has taken more effort to perform, and I don't always manage to keep things behind my lips, where they should stay.

There is a long moment of shocked silence. Chesu is staring at me, but his chi is lilac and a sort of metallic grey. Gojyo smoothly distributes the sandwiches and fruity drinks that have arrived. I stare at mine, hands still tightly clenched in my lap.

“Then the reports of your death have lacked a significant detail,” Chesu says finally. “So. You are a-” he utters a word that is foreign to me. “A made-youkai,” he clarifies at my blank look. “One who was human and now is youkai.”

“Ah.” I struggle to hold the memories at bay. “Yes, I am.”

“I happen to know that Hyakugan Maoh had a very expensive set of inhibitors,” Chesu states calmly. “They were a set of three rings, specially crafted to reinforce each other, and with enchantments that allowed them to adjust to the strength of their wearer, up to a certain point. That means,” he says, looking straight into my eyes as my pulse pounds, “that as the use of the inhibitors gradually strengthens the youkai's chi over time, the inhibitors themselves strengthen to match that increase.”

Not enough! The slightly-hysterical thought bubbles up, but I swallow it.

“Have you,” Chesu says carefully, “experienced rapid growth of your chi since wearing your inhibitors?”

I am spared the task of answering, as Gojyo explodes into helpless laughter beside me. Chesu and I share an amused glance as Gojyo laughs himself silly, muttering things like 'no shit' and 'fuck yes' after mimicking Chesu's voice asking that question.

“I'll take that as a yes,” the older man says mildly. “Well, I happen to be setting up a shop for the crafting and repair of youkai chi inhibitors, so if you find that you need yours strengthened, I would love the opportunity to work on such a magnificent example of the art.” He nods at me again, then stands and quietly leaves as Gojyo winds down his display of hilarity.

********************************************************

“Okay, Dad. Spill.”

I look up from the dinner I haven't been eating, to see Kaylin already finished and glaring at me, arms crossed. Gojyo has declined to eat with us this evening, and I suspect he will be out until much later.

“Something's on your mind, Dad. Now spill.”

I give my daughter a weak, apologetic smile before returning my pensive gaze to the uneaten dinner before me. One last poke, and I set the fork down. I'm not going to eat it, so there's no point in pretending I am.

“Gojyo introduced me to someone today.” My hands are folded in my lap. I don't look up. “An older gentleman who crafts and repairs chi inhibitors.”

“So?” Kaylin leans forward, not seeing why I should be pensive about this. “You already have inhibitors. What's the problem?”

I look up and give her a stricken look, and she recoils slightly. She knew something was wrong, but she didn't know it was as serious as my expression hints it is. My chi washes against my skin, and I can feel pain blossom as my nails become pointed and pierce my skin. The wounds heal instantly. Trembling, I raise my hands and show her the points on my nails.

“They're not strong enough anymore.”

“Dad...” Her voice is a whisper, horror and sympathy evenly matched.

“I don't know what to do,” I admit, laying my hands flat on the table. With my emotions boiling like this, I dare not try to do anything else with them.

Kaylin gives me a lopsided grin. “I can see where that would scare the kids at the clinic,” she jokes weakly. Her chi fluctuates between a true green and the lemon yellow Chesu displayed earlier. “Can this guy make your inhibitors stronger?”

“Ah, he did mention that he would like the chance to work on them if I needed them strengthened.”

“So then what's the problem?” Violet blooms among the green and yellow, reminding me of arranged flowers.

“Time,” I say quietly, “and money.”

“Dad,” Kaylin says, drawing out the 'a' until the word is two syllables. “You haven't missed a day of work since we got here. I think you've earned some vacation.”

She has a point, but... “Ah, I wouldn't feel right just abandoning those who might need my help while I was...ah...unavailable.”

Kaylin rolls her eyes at me. “They managed before, Dad.”

“There is still the question of money,” I point out. We have no idea what he might charge for the service. Inhibitors are still expensive.”

“So? Why don't you ask him?”

I blink, unable to find a good answer to that.

“Ah-ha! I got you, Dad!” Kaylin leaps to her feet and dashes off to the living room, rummaging in the desk and coming back with a sheet of paper and a pencil. “Go on,” she says, setting them down in front of me and shoving the plate of uneaten food out of the way. “Write him a letter and ask how much he would charge to strengthen your inhibitors.”

“Ah, give me a moment,” I say, and carefully stand up.

The night air is cool against my fevered skin as I stand on the balcony and look out at the town. Carefully, I condense a large amount of chi into a small point, and shoot it straight up. It streaks upwards, glowing green against the night sky, before detonating into a shower of green sparks that dissipate into nothing.

“Cool!” My daughter exclaims from behind me. “It's like home-made fireworks!”

I laugh at the unexpected comparison, and shoot off a second burst to her applause and cheering. This takes enough out of my chi pool that I am in no danger of accidentally shredding the paper as I write.

Honored Mister Chesu,

I hope you have experienced no problems in achieving the establishment

of your shop in Weilan. Upon reflection, I have come to the conclusion that my chi may be benefitted by stronger inhibition. To that end, I am respectfully inquiring as to what level of compensation would be appropriate should I take you up on your very generous offer.

I remain,

Cho Hakkai

“Geez, Dad,” Kaylin huffs from behind me, where she has been reading over my shoulder. “Did you have to be so fancy? You could have just said 'Hi, how much to strengthen my inhibitors, please?'”

“But then it wouldn't be me,” I reply mildly, folding the paper carefully and sealing it with my thumb pressed into the wax.

“That's my Dad,” she sighs before giving me a hug. “Hey, why don't you just keep doing the fireworks thing? You know, to keep your chi down?”

I wait, giving her a tolerantly amused smile.

“Oh yeah,” she says sheepishly. “That would just make your chi stronger then before, wouldn't it?”

“...and it's heavy use of my chi that got me into this situation in the first place,” I finish the thought for her. “Now, you run this down to your uncle Gojyo's apartment, and I'll clean up.”

Kaylin takes my sealed note, and a scribbled note to Gojyo, and skips down the wooden stairs, leaving the door open. I don't bother to close it; she'll be back within a minute. Instead, I put away the leftovers and leave the dishes in the sink, trying not to think about the various responses my carefully-worded request might get.

***********************************************************

It is two long, nerve-wracking weeks before Gojyo finally climbs up the stairs one morning, a kaleidoscope of smug-amused-curious warning me before a knock on the doorframe announces his arrival. Kaylin leans over to see past the wall and waves a forkful of sausage at him in welcome. He saunters through the open door and into the dining room, taking a seat at the table and helping himself to sausage, eggs, and porridge. The slightly-crumpled letter he takes out of his pocket and tosses nonchalantly my way is addressed to me in elegant, flowing script. I push aside my cooling bowl of porridge - I wouldn't have eaten anything at all, but Kaylin wouldn't hear of it - and break the wax holding the paper closed.

Honored Mister Cho,

Thank you for your concern. My journey to Weilan was uneventful, and while my shop is not yet open for business, I am more than equipped for work. I will need to examine your inhibitors for at least a day before I would be able to fit them to you. Feel free to send them ahead with your friend Gojyo, or if you choose, I can recommend an inn not far from my shop for you to stay at. Please do not concern yourself with monetary compensation - the experience and knowledge I will gain from working on such superb pieces is more valuable than any amount of coin.

Yours sincerely,

Sulei Chesu

“You better tell Doctor Jan you'll need time off.”

Kaylin's voice just behind me startles me far beyond what it would have if I hadn't been wrestling with the nightmare implicit in Chesu's third sentence. The idea of just casually taking off my inhibitors spawns such horror in me that I'm not able to actually contemplate it; my thoughts just circle tightly with nowhere to go. Now that my attention is not turned inward with such single-minded intensity, however, I don't need to look to know that Gojyo has been reading over my shoulder, just as Kaylin has. His chi pulses magenta and teal behind my left shoulder.

“Which is it going to be?” Gojyo asks. “It's a long way to Weilan - it took Hakuryuu at least eight hours to get there, and another eight to get back.”

So, most of a day to get there, and then spending the night... I do some quick math. If Gojyo leaves early, he can bring Kaylin to Chang An and be back in time to pick up my inhibitors and take them to Weilan. He'll have to spend the night there, then return for me - I am not spending an entire day in a strange town without my inhibitors - and by the time he brings me to the shop, Chesu will have had plenty of time to examine them and we can return that night if Hakuryuu is willing.

“I'll need five days off,” I say quietly, folding the paper back up. “And Hakuryuu will need plenty of fruit.”

Gojyo snorts. “She's been attacking the lemon tree.”

The image of my little dragon peeling the rind from a lemon half the size of her torso makes me smile. “I've been forsaken for a lemon, then?”

“Not entirely, Dad,” Kaylin pipes up as she makes her way back around the table. “Lemons don't give pettings.”

“So when's it going to be?” Gojyo asks quietly. Across the table, Kaylin returns to her breakfast.

“Tomorrow.” I fold the letter in half, then half again, eyes fixed on my daughter. “I'll talk to Jan today. I would be grateful if you could take Kaylin to Chang An tomorrow morning. I don't want her to see me.”

Gojyo nods. “I take it I'll be delivering your inhibitors and coming back for you?”

I nervously fold the letter in half again, still not meeting Gojyo's eyes. “Ah, if you wouldn't mind...”

A blush of peach and pink tells me that he doesn't, but none of that shows in his voice. “Whatever you need,” Gojyo says casually before declaring war on his own breakfast.

I stare moodily into the depths of my cold porridge while the other two eat. I can feel Kaylin's sharp stabs of adolescent irritation at my lack of eating as blossoms of hard-edged red shot through with searing yellow, but she doesn't say anything. The folded paper in my hands is both salvation and damnation, and even with the amount of practice I've had, it takes a great effort for me to shunt aside the hope and the fear that borders on panic, the worry and the thought of what it is I am about to do. I spend the rest of breakfast in enforced meditation while Gojyo and Kaylin eat, and by the time they have finished I feel able to discuss plans without wanting to hide in shame.

“Kaylin?” My daughter turns curious eyes on me as she starts to stand up. “When you're done clearing your dishes, I'd like you to pack a travel bag. While I'm dealing with this-” I carefully skirt what it is, exactly, that I'll be doing. “-you'll be staying with Sanzo in Chang An.” There is a moment where refusal crosses her mind, sooty purple shoving against muddy blue, but it clears up and her chi lightens into turquoise, buttercup-yellow, and pale magenta. The lure of the metropolis - and Jonan - is a bait she's happy to take.

“Sure thing, Dad!” She fairly skips into the kitchen, then dashes to her room to start packing.

“I'm going to the clinic to talk with Doctor Jan,” I call after her. “Behave yourself while I'm gone.”

“I'll be here,” she calls back.

“And I'm going to bed.” Gojyo stretches and stands up. “I'll be back in the morning to pick up the little troublemaker and foist her off on our beloved sleazy monk.” He runs his fingers through his hair, and I can tell that he's touching the scars it hides. So, this is making him anxious, as well.

“Sleep well,” I offer quietly as he saunters towards the door.

I want to apologize for what I'm asking him to do, to pull away out of guilt and not bother him with my problems...but I can't. This has to be done, and not even the guilt can change that fact. Instead, I listen as he skips down the stairs, listen to his door open and close before I quietly close the door behind me and descend the stairs myself.

As I walk through the streets on the way to the clinic, I can feel my chi levels rise. I try not to worry excessively about it, not out of any sense of hope or fatalism, but because the near-panic will only strengthen my chi further. The effort of not worrying that I'm worrying too much leaves me high-strung and somewhat clammy by the time I reach my destination. Doctor Jan is with a patient when I arrive, and the need to do something with my chi before it overflows makes me highly reluctant to stay and wait for him. Instead, I tell the nurse on check-in duty that as a matter of fact, no, I'm not feeling well and I won't be in for the rest of the week while I deal with what I'm suffering from, and yes, it is something peculiar to youkai that a human doctor wouldn't be able to assist with. She clucks in sympathy, writes a brief note for Jan, and sends me home with her hopes that I'll feel better soon.

Yes, once my inhibitors are adjusted, I'll feel much better...

Lemons aside, I know my little dragon and I know that she will be working very hard over the next few days. I make a small detour to the farmer's market on my way home to do a bit of shopping. My first purchase is half a dozen apples. There are a few types to choose from, but while Gojyo prefers the brilliantly red ones, Hakuryuu prefers the ones that are both red and green. I quietly infuse them with chi as I pretend to browse another merchant's wares, not moving on until the apples glow faintly to my chi-sense and I am in no danger of overwhelming my inhibitors. Just as I turn to move on, however, it occurs to me that I am going to be removing my inhibitors in the morning. I don't like the idea of exposing myself like that while my chi pool is full. Half a dozen of the potatoes I've been pretending to peruse are my next purchase. After that, I move purposefully through the market. Two ears of corn. Three carrots. A portion of meat acquired for a bargain price because the animal was old. That won't be a problem; an infusion of chi will make it more tender than anything on the market. Kaylin and Gojyo will eat well tonight, and my chi will be nicely depleted.

Kaylin is reading in the living room when I return. She doesn't look up from the book as I pass into the kitchen, and a vague wave in greeting is all the acknowledgement I get. The apples go into a bowl on the counter; Hakuryuu will find them on her own. The rest of the groceries go into the icebox to be prepared later. Time to go see what has entranced my daughter.

“Have you finished packing?”

Kaylin tears her gaze away from the page and blinks at me from her seat by the window. “Yeah, I'm all packed.” Her eyes slide towards the page again. I try to make out some of the words, but they're upside-down from my perspective.

“What is that you're reading?”

“Um. Stories from up north.” She turns a page, eagerly scanning it, tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth. Something dreadfully exciting must be happening in the story.

“Kaylin?”

“Nngh?”

“Where did you get the book?”

Again, she reluctantly looks up. “Uncle Sanzo lent it to me.” Her eyes dart back to the page briefly as she waits for a response.

I briefly wonder if this is one of the more risqué northern tales, but mentally shrug it off. If Sanzo lent it to her, he must consider it appropriate. Instead, I smile at my daughter. “Enjoy,” I tell her, and she dives back into the story. Through the window, I can see Hakuryuu sunning herself on the porch. “I'll be outside,” I say to my oblivious daughter, and she makes a vague noise of acknowledgement as I pass her and let myself out.

Hakuryuu is sprawled on the bench by the railing. I sit next to her and stroke her warm hide, enjoying the moment. She trills contentedly, occasionally shifting so that I can lavish attention where she wants it. This is one of the more pleasant ways to pass the time I've ever encountered, and an hour or two passes in comfortable silence. Eventually, however, she stirs.

Hungry, she conveys through chi, nudging my hand imperiously.

I smile and send her an image of the bowl of chi-infused apples in the kitchen. With a squeal of delight, she launches herself into the air and wriggles through the swinging panel in the door. Through the window, I can see her flit through the house, and faintly hear her triumphant cries as she discovers and attacks the bowl. Meditation in sunlight has never been the minefield that meditation at night, or in the rain, is for me. And with...tomorrow...looming before me, it wouldn't hurt to try to clear my mind. Within a few minutes, I am a vessel of golden light. Every sound and sensation around me has been identified and set aside, and I am free to try to deal with the internal distractions.

Removing my inhibitors will release my chi.

Solution. I must drain my chi.

That won't be too hard; preparing dinner with chi will take quite a bit out of me. As long as I don't eat, or eat only the potato, I won't have as much chi regeneration during the night. I don't want to strip myself down to nothing, just to leave myself with little more than dregs.

Removing my inhibitors will release my youkai form, which will likely not be human-shaped, and I do not wish to damage my clothes.

Solution. I will not wear clothes when removing my inhibitors. I must pack clothes.

Not a problem. It will take Gojyo two hours to return from dropping Kaylin off with Sanzo; I can toss clothes into a bag as they’re leaving.

I will be naked. I must find a way to cover myself.

The inhibitor in my abdomen will keep my youkai form somewhat restrained, but I still have no desire to be seen by anyone. We have a spare blanket in the closet, older and slightly ratty. I can drape that around myself once I start to change – before my fingers become claws.

Gojyo will be making four eight-hour trips in as many days.

I know that this is already wearing on his nerves, and making him drive all that way a second time just because I’m too much of a coward to suck it up and stay in an inn…

Food. I can make arrangements to have food delivered so he doesn’t have to worry about that. For that matter, I will also need food for at least the second day. If I want to make those arrangements, however, I need to do it before sunset.

My daughter does not look up as I come in from the balcony. “Kaylin?”

“Mm?”

“I’m going out to make some arrangements for the next few days. I’ll be back soon.”

“Kay,” she says absently, still deep in her book.

Walking around town, making arrangements at a handful of restaurants for food to be delivered to Gojyo’s apartment on alternating mornings and evenings, is not complicated or demanding enough to keep my thoughts from spiraling around the issue of that second trip. Truly, I dislike that he will be spending an extra two days on the road just to humor my selfish desire to not be seen, but no matter which direction I attack it from, I can’t convince myself to go with him to deliver my inhibitors.

If I just went with him…we would arrive in Weilan mid-to-late afternoon. It would be plenty of time to check into an inn. I could sequester myself in one room and prepare myself, then give Gojyo my inhibitors. He would have plenty of time to deliver them and find someplace to eat and amuse himself before it got dark. But that’s where the perfect logic snarls, because I know Gojyo, and he has a remarkable tendency to accidentally come back to the wrong room when he’s indulged too heavily without me there to metabolize the alcohol at least somewhat. The fact that these occasions coincide with me being emotionally unbalanced, distressed, or otherwise impaired, can’t be a coincidence.

He carried me out of my own personal hell and put me in his bed, tended my wounds and asked no questions. I don’t want him to see the monster I made myself into.

Even if he didn’t insist on a double room, I have no confidence that he would stay in his when I am so in need of support in mine. But that would leave me with the options of letting him in to see what shape my sins have taken, or doing something I have never done before and shutting him out. The second option is unacceptable, and the first one is impossible. Even if we navigated the night safely, Chesu said he would need to study my inhibitors for at least a day. That’s an entire morning and afternoon of my fears devouring me alive in my room while concern for me gnawed at him, and then I would have to leave the room and either walk or be driven to Chesu’s shop, all while trying to keep myself covered and avoid any questions by the inn’s staff.

No. As much as I want to make it work, I will have to impose on Gojyo to make two trips.

Kaylin is still reading when I return, and that gives me the freedom to write a few notes for Gojyo – since I doubt my youkai form will be capable of intelligible speech. The first one explains that the food waiting is my doing – something light for breakfast and something portable for lunch – and that my inhibitors are hanging from the inside of the door to my apartment, strung on a thong. When I have finished that one, it occurs to me that I would have to leave my apartment to deliver subsequent notes, and with a shudder I cross out my signature and keep writing. Dinner will be waiting for him on his return, and in the morning, breakfast and lunch will be delivered before we head out. Whether we drive through the night to come back immediately or wait until morning, dinner will also be delivered on the fourth day. I warn him that I will be covered and not likely to be able to speak, and apologize for the incredible favor I am asking of him. Then I sign it.

That done, I find a leather thong and leave it coiled on top of the letter on my bed. I have to prepare dinner, and also something to eat that will keep me going until I am once again able to assume human form.

***********************************************************

Kaylin and Gojyo keep up a cheerful chatter over dinner, talk ranging from the metropolitan delights of Chang An to anecdotes about Sanzo and a somewhat-edited retelling of a handful of things we encountered on our journeys west and back east. Gojyo keeps flicking worried glances at me, and how quiet I’m being, but Kaylin is oblivious.

Then again, Gojyo knows how reluctant I am to embrace my youkai nature if it means giving up the appearance of humanity, and I don’t think any of us have broached that subject with my daughter.

When Gojyo leaves after dinner, it is with a hand ruffling Kaylin’s hair and a reminder that he will be knocking on our door just past sunrise, so she should go straight to bed and rest up. He gives me another worried look before rattling down the stairs, my faint smile not reassuring him in the slightest after all the experience he’s had in reading them.

Kaylin does go to her room – but she brought the book of stories from up north with her, and it’s doubtful that she’ll be going straight to sleep. That’s her lesson to learn, however. I have preparations to make.

The dishes get cleaned with a variant of my laundry trick, and I pull out the things I’ll need to make a dense brown bread. It’s one I’ve learned how to make over the last few months, something that sustains by body without giving my chi any fuel whatsoever. With the wicked claws I remember gracing my fingers, it will be something I can cut and pick up without damaging anything, and I’m gambling that my teeth – the ones that don’t swing out of the way, anyway – will be able to maul it enough to swallow, if not actually chew it.

While it’s rising, I go looking through the closets for a travel bag and the blanket that is destined to shield me from the world. I find the bag, but it’s packed with some of the loose, heavy cloaks that were gifted to me on one of our trips through the mountains. With how poorly Gojyo and Sanzo deal with the cold, I insisted we keep them, and now I am grateful for that because one of them will cover me much more neatly than a blanket. I can pull the hood low over my face and fasten the catch at the throat and the voluminous folds of the cloak will cover me from head to foot without much effort required to keep it closed.

I place my finds on the bed and check the bread – it’s ready for baking, so I slide the tray into the oven and return to my room to pack. Although I should only need one set of clothes, I pack two – and some sleep clothes, and an extra sash, and another bandana to hold my hair out of the way. I’m not certain if being in my youkai form will impact my hair’s length or not, and I want to make sure I can hold it out of the way if need be. After a moment’s thought, I add a small pouch to hold my eyepiece.

There is an impulse to pack for Gojyo, too, but that’s a lot more…invasive…than when we lived together in his small house. I add a postscript to my note, reminding him to take some clean clothes with him.

My clothes have been packed. My cover has been prepared. I take the bread out of the oven and set it on the counter to cool overnight, then change into sleep clothes and climb into the bed I’m very sure I won’t be sleeping in, tonight. Although the corpse of Kanan has visited me only infrequently after I brought Kaylin into my life, her corpse has made the occasional appearance and I wonder who it will be tonight – my daughter, or Gojyo.

It’s not long before I get my answer – Gojyo, looking quite mangled, sullenly accusing me of being responsible for his death because I huddled in my room like a coward instead of just going with him to Weilan. Firmly, I tell him that going with him would only cause us both to suffer more, and that the real Gojyo offered to make the extra trip because he knew how hard this would be on me. Then I close my eyes and ignore him, waiting for the nightmares. Shortly after they begin, I sense the brilliant white chi of Hakuryuu flitting in through the door, left ajar for her, and she curls up at my back with a contented chirp.

Guarded by my precious dragon, I slip easily into the realm of chi and drift until dawn.

***********************************************************

Kaylin is not the first one awake in the morning, but not by much. Whether she slept or not, her ruby eyes sparkle with excitement that spills over to Hakuryuu and the two of them practically rush the door when they hear Gojyo’s footsteps on the stairs.

“Hey, kiddo,” he calls as he opens the door. “You ready to go make Sanzo’s life hell for the next five days?”

He gets tackled instead of answered, and then she dances off to grab her bag – and the book – and dash back to come to a smart stop in front of him.

“Cho Kaylin, reporting for duty,” she chirps with an improvised salute.

Gojyo chuckles. “At ease. Everyone give your dad a hug, and we’ll be on our way!”

That’s the only warning I get before I’m being gang-hugged, Kaylin around my waist and Gojyo around my shoulders and Hakuryuu doing her best to wrap around my head. I hug them all back as best I can, trying to drink in this brief moment of joy before the terror that looms before me. Then Kaylin is chasing Hakuryuu down the stairs and Gojyo tosses me a casual salute and a cocky grin.

“Two hours,” he says, making it sound like a promise.

I nod. “I know.”

“I’ll be back.” The soft tone and teal-tinged pink make the words into a promise for real, and then he’s following my daughter down the stairs.

There’s the familiar sound of Hakuryuu’s engine revving, then fading into the distance.

It’s time.

Travel bag in one hand, letter in the other, I rattle smoothly down the wooden stairs and let myself into Gojyo’s apartment. The bag and letter go on his table, easily visible, and then a pang of nostalgia shoots through me as I take in the state of his apartment.

I have two hours. I can’t clean it up, but I can save him some effort. It only takes a minute to locate his clean clothes – in the dresser I made four or so years ago. A fond smile slides across my face as I grab a change of clothing and tuck it into the bag. Then I retreat upstairs again to begin my other preparations, starting with removing my eyepiece.

Feeling foolish, I descend once more and tuck the eyepiece into its pouch, nestled between my shirts.

Upstairs again, I go to my room and disrobe with hands that only shake a little. The thick winter cloak scratches slightly against my bare skin as I slip it on. Then, leather thong in hand, I venture out into the main room. This time, my hand trembles quite a bit as I bring it up to my ear.

I’ve only done this once before, but my fingers find the subtle catches with disturbing ease. Quickly, I open all three of the silver rings that pierce my ear and pull them off, closing them one by one as I slide them onto the thong. My nails lengthen into sharp points as I tie the knot, and almost desperately I lunge for the back door, practically throwing the thong at the handle as my entire body feels like it’s a heat mirage, shimmering and dancing.

It doesn’t hurt, feeling my body warp and expand. It doesn’t hurt, but it is not comfortable either, and only the memory of those needle-sharp teeth keeps me from crying out. My hands tighten into fists, only to release immediately as the wicked talons – no longer mere nails – bite into my own flesh. My legs feel like water, weak and ready to collapse, and then they strengthen. My arms prickle and my chest feels tight, every inch of my body crawling before it settles into its new configuration.

The hood of the cloak does not rest flat against my head. I’m afraid to look.

Carefully, carefully, I pull the hood down with the tips of my claws. Were they this long, the first time? Just as carefully, I pull the cloak shut over a body I refuse to look at.

The thong hanging from the door handle mocks me, inhibitors glinting as the leather sways gently.

The door is unlocked.

Well, the door has to be unlocked. How else is Gojyo going to get them to deliver them for me? Ah, but I know he’s worried about me, and he’s unlikely to just take the thong and leave. He’ll want to check on me, to make sure I’m okay – which I’m not.

I could hide in my bedroom.
He’d follow me.

I could sit behind the door, blocking it.

He’d sit on the other side, not moving.

I’ll sit behind the door, next to my inhibitors. He won’t be able to see much of me through the window. I’ll let him open the door enough to take the thong, but not enter. He won’t like that, of course. I’ve never really enforced any boundaries with him – not that he imposes himself on me, because if there’s anyone that respects comfort levels it’s him. But if he thinks I need comfort or support, he’ll find an excuse to saunter right up and initiate physical contact of some kind. An arm draped over my shoulder, a supposedly-drunk flop into the same bed, even just sitting down close enough that our hips touch. And I have always allowed it…but I can’t allow this. Just the thought that there is a possibility of him seeing under this cloak has my heart racing, panic digging little claws into me.

Slowly, awkwardly, I creep across the floor until the door is within my reach. Then I attempt to sit down, but my legs don’t work the way I’m expecting and my center of balance is not where it should be, and I wind up in a heap, huddled against the door.

Good enough. Time to try to pretend none of this is happening, and wait for Gojyo to come back and take my inhibitors to Weilan.

***********************************************************

The effort of not thinking about my body turns an hour and a half into an eternity of hell, focusing on physical sensations – but not those ones – to ground myself in the moment and not worry myself to a thread about what will happen when Gojyo returns. But as much as my mind screams for release from this silent torment, when the end comes, I would have rather it not ended at all.

Magenta, streaked with eye-searing orange, approaches. Familiar boots take the stairs easily, and panic turns my blood to ice as Gojyo’s voice calls my name. The door rattles as it opens, only to impact somewhere around my hip, and the orange is joined by sooty red and jarring yellow. “…Hakkai?”

If not for the fact that I have no confidence in my ability to move swiftly in this form, the fear and concern in his voice would have sent me bolting for my room, to hide in the furthest corner. However, all I can do is tremble and keep my lips sealed around a whimper.

The door rattles, knocking into me again. “Hakkai, it’s me.” When there is no response, he asks, “Are you okay in there?”

I open my mouth to assure him, despite my panic, that I am, but the feel of those teeth swinging outward sends me into a spiral of self-loathing, and all I can do is shudder.

“Hakkai?” Silence. “Okay, if you can hear me, make a sound. Something. Anything.”

In my throat, a moan resonates, but I know he can’t hear that. Opening my mouth is out of the question. Can I…? One leg twitches, sending what I have to acknowledge is a hoof to knock sharply on the door. Immediately, relief floods Gojyo’s chi.

“Knocking. Okay. We can work with that,” he says, the words rushing out of his mouth behind the door. His voice sounds closer, as if he were crouching now instead of standing. “Okay. Knock once for yes, twice for no. Got it?”

Feeling pathetic for how much gratitude his words have sparked, I kick the door once.

“One knock. Yes. Okay. Are you- you’re probably freaking out, aren’t you. So you’re not okay, and I won’t ask that. Are you…unhurt?”

It occurs to me, as I kick the door once, that this is a crack in his usual confident and carefree demeanor. He’s almost babbling, as if he could bleed his own anxiety off if he just says enough words.

“You’re unhurt.”

Kick the door; Knock.

“You’re sure.”

Knock.

“Can I come in?”

Knock, knock.

More jarring yellow, but all he says is, “You’re sure?”

Knock.

“You’re sure you don’t want me in there.” Knock. “You’re really fuckin’ sure you’re okay with me not being in there.” Knock. “With you.” Knock. “You know I’m here for you and I’m not gonna judge shit or anything, right?” Knock. “You…you do know that it’s gonna be us together on the road tomorrow, too, right?” Knock. “I mean, of course you do, it was your plan, but the point is that I’ll be around you tomorrow. For half the day.”

Reluctantly, I kick the door once.

“Why not tonight?” he asks quietly, almost pleading, and one hand reaches through the slightly-open door to rest on my wool-covered hip. “…you’re sure.”

Knock.

Although it’s not exactly skin contact, I can feel a cool reassurance radiating from his hand. Unfortunately, all it does is remind me that he’s close enough to see and kick me back into near-mindless panic. I can hear his voice, more worried than he’s ever sounded, but the words aren’t intelligible over the pounding of my heart and my silent pleading that he take the inhibitors and go, that as much as I don’t want to worry him by shutting him out, if he just takes them and goes it will be over that much faster. For both of us.

“Sorry,” Gojyo says heavily, dully, and that cool reassurance is replaced by acidic guilt before he lifts his hand from my hip. “I’ll leave you alone now.” It sounds like an admission of defeat, a surrender, and there’s the soft ting of small silver rings against wood before his footsteps descend the stairs as if he were going to an execution. His, or maybe mine.

I’m a monster.

For the space of a heartbeat I want to chase after him, to apologize and confess the nameless feelings I’ve been refusing to acknowledge for over two years. But the thought of him seeing, seeing the monstrosity my sins made me into, the true abomination he carried home and put in his bed, and recoiling in horror…

My vows stick in my throat, choking me, only just barely keeping me from turning those spear-like claws against my own body. Even if he would be relieved to have me out of his life, my death would hurt Sanzo and shatter Kaylin, and I can’t do that.

I don’t let myself think any more about Gojyo’s potential reactions to seeing me.

***********************************************************

It’s somewhere in the afternoon before I come out of my self-loathing to discover that I’m hungry. The fleeting thought of just not eating is dismissed almost before it can finish forming; in this state, it would count as either punishing myself or cowardice for avoiding dealing with my youkai form, and either one is unacceptable. I will have to eat at some point before getting to Weilan, and I may as well do it when I have enough time to make sure any…damages…are repaired before Gojyo returns.

That’s easier decided than done, however. By the time I have figured out claws, legs, hooves, and balance enough to stand up again, the panic has tired itself out and I can’t muster the energy to care that my body isn’t human. Using those obscenely long talons to rip and slice the loaf of bread apart is almost an exercise in absurdity, and then I am faced with the prospect of finding some way to eat the chunk of bread skewered on one claw. The first time I open my mouth, and the rows of needle-sharp teeth swing outward, I am reminded so strongly of fighting the mob of divine youkai that I find myself huddled against the door again, shaking and shivering at the memory.

It takes most of the afternoon for me to get that single chunk of bread into my mouth, only to immediately have another crisis as I attempt to chew it without shredding my own tongue. In the end, I wind up just sucking it until it’s a mush soft enough to swallow. It’s not an elegant lunch in any respect, but I force myself to get at least a quarter of the loaf into me before allowing myself to give up again.

When night falls, it is both a relief and another torment to endure. Relief, because the details of my body are shrouded from my sight, but torment because quiet darkness has not been my friend since before I had my name, and the house is very quiet without anyone in it. Attempting to sleep only results in the usual nightmares, this time with the addition of scenarios in which Sanzo, Gojyo, and Kaylin reject me for being an abomination and the town forces me to leave. I wonder distantly which of the usual dead faces will come to level accusations at me, but none of them do. The entire night passes in nightmares and dark, restless silence.

It feels almost like an abandonment.

Dawn creeps in slowly, promising a new day. Relief from the night. Hope. Or, for me at least, the potential for actual sleep free of nightmares. But first, breakfast. I eat meditatively, focusing on the taste and texture of the bread as I suck it into mush rather than the unfamiliar shapes of my tongue and teeth or the spear of black bone protruding from the end of my finger that delivers it into the perilous ring of fangs that is my mouth. Although, now that I am able to gaze on it with disgust and shame instead of panic and revulsion, it doesn’t look like bone. Neither does it look precisely like Youkai claws, which are more like elongated nails than a bird’s talons. The material is smooth and faintly glossy, straight rather than curving wickedly. Easily the length of my forearm, they seem protrude from the tips of my fingers. In fact, I can’t see tips to those thick, darkly-furred digits. The claws appear to be more an extension than an addition, even on the thumb that sports a much shorter black spike, like an afterthought.

Or a dewclaw.

The word re-orders my thoughts, and I re-examine my hand from the perspective of mammalian feet. There doesn’t seem to be the flare of width that would be present at the heel of a human hand or the base of a dog’s paw – because clearly claws of this length can’t be retractable – and there are no pads at the base of the fingers. But that leaves hooved animals, and-

Tail. I do have a tail, vestigial as it seems. As much as I don’t want to know the details, it seems very probable that I have horns of some sort. If those spears on my fingers were shorter – much shorter – they could very well be cloven hooves.

Fantastic. I’m a hellbeast, a devil, and it’s a small miracle I don’t have batwings to go with the horns, hooves, and tail. Resolutely, I return to my position by the door and lay down. I am going to get some sleep, because I’m confident I won’t get much tonight, and I am not going to think about this. Nor am I going to think about what may or may not happen when Gojyo returns. I tell myself this, very firmly, multiple times, but I know I’m lying.

***********************************************************

Footsteps on the stairs wake me, late in the afternoon, and as the muddy grey chi approaching registers in my mind I remember that the door is still ajar. For a terrifying moment I am convinced it is someone who intends to rob the house, and I will wind up killing him, and the town will turn on me and run me out and Gojyo will return to emptiness and bloodstains, and he will assume the worst. Then a weight presses against the door and slides down into a sitting slump, and I can see the magenta under that muddy grey, and my heart constricts because I know how much this is bothering Gojyo. This is something that has happened before, although not for a couple of years, and sure enough there is a liquid slosh before he speaks in a heavy, defeated tone that doesn’t quite slur.

“Hey, Hakkai.” He pauses to take another drink. “Do you hate me?”

The same words he utters, every time, and they still cut deeper than youkai claws to hear. Reflexively, I start to assure him that I don’t, but my mouth is made of sharp edges and I don’t even get a single syllable out before I am yelping in the pain of a pierced tongue, the sudden sensation shocking me into motion, head jerking back away from the source of the pain. But my head is unbalanced, and my body is shaped the wrong way, and I can feel my skull hit the door with a thunk before my flailing unbalances me again and I find myself on my back, staring at the ceiling, while on the other side of the door soft peach breaks through the grey muddying Gojyo’s chi.

“Fangs, huh?” he asks rhetorically, amusement bubbling through drunk depression. “Bit yourself?”

Awkwardly, I open my mouth and try to hold my lips still to keep the circles of fangs out of the way as I slowly form the word ‘yes’.

Tired chuckling from the other side of the door makes my heart soar. “I guess you wouldn’t be able to take a drink even if I could pass you the bottle, huh?”

Because, of course, that’s the ritual. He comes home and closes the door behind him, sliding down until he’s sitting on the floor, and asks if I hate him. I assure him I don’t and sit next to him, and we pass the bottle back and forth until it’s empty. “No,” I say carefully. “So-”

“It’s fine.” Gojyo cuts me off before I can even finish saying ‘sorry’. “I shouldn’t be drinking this shit anyway.” There’s the sound of a cork being shoved into the mouth of the bottle, and then a quiet clunk as he sets it down next to him. “Gotta be at least somewhat sober to take you to Weilan in the morning, right? You can’t exactly de-drunk me through the door, and I bet you have claws to match those fangs, right?”

“Yyyessss.”

“Yeah, so you wouldn’t want to get your hands on me to cure my hangover even if I deserved it, which I don’t. My fuckin’ fault for drinking this much when you’re depending on me.”

“Go….jy…o…” I form each sound slowly, distantly aware that my chi has already healed whatever damage I did to my tongue.

He sighs. “I know, I know. It’s true, though. It’s not like you poured the booze down my throat. I did that, tryin’ to drown out my stupid selfish reaction to you not wanting me to see you. I know this is hard on you, I know you’re not comfortable without your inhibitors, and you’ve got every right to a little privacy while you’re vulnerable, and here I am getting my feelings all hurt because you’re not letting me invade your personal space like I always do. I don’t know how you put up with me sometimes, Hakkai.”

The feelings I can’t let myself admit exist crowd into my throat. Even if I could form words easily right now, I don’t know which ones I would use.

“You don’t have to say anything. Don’t want you to hurt yourself again on fangs you’re not used to. You put up with me because you’re you, and that’s what you do, you let me an’ Sanzo walk all over you because you think you deserve it or some shit for the shit you did.”

“Yes,” I say dryly.

“You’re always putting yourself out there for me. You ordered me food for fuck’s sake! And yeah, I’m gonna go down in a minute and eat it. I just had to check on you first, because I was worried and I wanted to make sure you’re okay. I’ll go eat my dinner, and get some sleep, and I’ll be back after breakfast to lock the door behind you because this time, I’m gonna be the one to put myself out there for you. Got it?”

“Yes,” I say softly, trying to put all my gratitude into that one word.

“Okay, good.” He picks up the bottle, and then hesitates before saying, “Hakkai? I won’t look. Tomorrow. I’ll knock and go back down and keep my back turned. I won’t look. All the shit you’ve done for me over the years, at least I can do this much for you.”

“Go-jy-o…” I almost want to open the door, to invite him in, but I can’t and he knows it because the hand I hadn’t realized was on my calf pats it and withdraws through the slightly-open door.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Hakkai. Hakuryuu’s asleep on my bed, but I’ll leave my window open and you leave the door open and she’ll probably come see you at some point. Thanks for dinner, and for looking out for my dumb ass. I don’t deserve you, but I’m grateful. Good night.”

Before I can even sort through my emotions to try to form a single word, he’s halfway down the stairs. I listen to his footfalls as he makes his way down, and to the sound of his door opening and closing, and stare at the ceiling as the emotions I refuse to name wrestle with my panic and guilt.

***********************************************************

I am fighting my way through Hyakugan Maoh’s keep, screams and splashes punctuated by the occasional bolt of lightning and the incessant drumming of the rain that falls, heavy and implacable, as though it could wash us all off the face of the world and down into Hell. Although I know Kanan is in the dungeons far below, I fight my way upwards, seeking the youkai lord. I must kill him before I can descend; without the inhibitors he bears, I will remain a monster born of blood and Kanan will repudiate me. My fingers have already grown into talons the length of my knife, thick and black as sin. They pierce youkai flesh easily and the blood gushes forth, making the stone slick beneath my hooves.

Finally, the tall double doors are before me and I wedge my claws between them, muscular arms bulging as I pry them open by brute force. The room is not a lavishly appointed bedroom; it is a hall with nothing in it but a slender man blocking my path to the stairs behind him. His eyes open, impersonal malice radiating from him, making his hair fly as though whipped by an unfelt wind, and I falter. It will take all of my concentration to focus my chi into a lance sharp enough to pierce that overwhelming aura and kill him, but it will take all of my strength to turn my chi into a barrier that can protect me from his glowing whips.

Just as despair rears its head, I feel a presence beside me. Quiet and reserved but steady as a rock and utterly dependable, it hovers like a reassuring hand placed upon my left shoulder and gratitude wells up inside of me. “I’ll leave it to you, then,” I say as a gout of fire shoots out to form a shield to protect us, and cup my hands to begin tightening my chi into a point fine enough to kill Shien.

“Kyuu!”

My eyes open to moonlight streaming in through the windows, and the tiny white head of my very concerned dragon searching my face.

“Kyuu,” she repeats, satisfied at whatever she sees, and curls into a spiral on my chest, content and ready to sleep.

Reassured by her presence, I direct my attention inwards and meditate on my chi, free of the nightmares that would otherwise gnaw at my mind all night.

***********************************************************

Sometime before dawn, Hakuryuu uncoils herself and stretches. She caresses my cheek with her little head, reassurance and affection in her chi, and then she flits through the slightly-open door into the night. Probably back down to sleep with Gojyo, as she tends to do. He dotes on her almost as much as I do, after all, and she loves him almost as much as she loves me.

Unfortunately, this leaves me alone in an apartment that is silent and mostly-dark. Although I know it will be doomed to failure from the start, I make a futile attempt at sleep, and am unsurprised when I find myself in the realm of nightmares instead. Naturally, I attempt to wrench myself awake again, and have a bad moment when I think I have awakened from one nightmare into another, but no – I am awake, I had just forgotten for the moment that my hands did end in wicked spearlike talons.

Sleep will have to wait until we are on the road.

Awkwardly, I heave myself up and spear the last chunk of bread on two fingers and take a big bite. Then the round crater left in the surface registers, and I realize both that I managed to use my youkai mouth naturally without hurting myself, and that the rows of fangs attached to my lips shredded the bread, pushing the bits back towards my real teeth and leaving that crater behind. It is all too easy to imagine what sort of damage I could do to flesh, and effortlessly, and I have to sit down and focus on not expelling the contents of my mouth – or stomach. Resolutely, I concentrate on the flavor of the bread, the texture of it, putting aside all other thoughts and sensations until I can mindfully chew and swallow. Regardless of everything else, my body does need the sustenance and mindfully eating bread is an excellent way to not wander through nightmares until dawn.

When the last bite has been swallowed, I allow myself to register the world around me again. The sun has not quite risen, but neither is it fully below the horizon, to judge from the grey light drifting gently in through the windows. A prime hour for being haunted by dead faces, and when I turn towards the door, Gojyo’s bloody corpse is slumped against it. The wound seems to be in his throat, a crimson waterfall coloring his chest, and a knife winks at me from his lap.

The knife I had with me when I found Kanan.

The knife she used to –

The wound is the same, and I can feel my pulse jump.

“You didn’t say it,” croaks the specter of Gojyo’s corpse. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised that after all the time we spent together, all the things we went through together, all the times I was there for you, I’m still less important to you than she is.”

I try to protest that it’s not true, and only manage to bite my own tongue again.

“Why would I be?” the hallucination continues. “I’m just a Taboo Child, after all. Just here to be your reminder of your sins, right? I should be grateful you even came back – probably ‘cuz the temple kicked you out and Sanzo couldn’t deal with you hitting his nerves like that.”

That’s not true. It’s not true. Yes, Sanzo and I had a rough month together before he gave me my name, but that’s years in the past and I have never looked down on Gojyo because of his mixed blood. We may both be products of sin, but he isn’t responsible for his parentage whereas my being an abomination is entirely my own fault. The years I spent living with Gojyo were three of the happiest in my life, second only to when Kanan and I were together.

As though he heard my thoughts – of course he did, he’s a product of my own mind – the corpse sneers. “I don’t know why you even keep pretending. You don’t love me – not like you still love her.”

Instinctively, I open my mouth to protest-

-and then shut it again because what, exactly, I would have protested sank in.

Love.

I care about Gojyo, of course. He’s an amazing friend, the pillar of kindness and compassion that pulled me out of my own personal hell and the anchor that kept me from tearing myself apart, one of the two people that mean more to me than my own life and for whom I keep myself alive. Although I have tried very hard to forget it, there was that incident where I allowed myself to be inebriated for a while and found myself wanting to seduce him – or for him to seduce me – so clearly there is physical attraction of some sort buried in my psyche. But with the parallels my subconscious is throwing at me, clearly I have been denying far more than I suspected.

Love.

Not the chaste love between close friends, or siblings, or parent and child, but the romantic love of husband and wife.

Is that what I feel? Is that what I want? And even if that’s the case, does it even matter? My wants and needs are forfeit for having failed Kanan.

But haven’t I effectively been acting as a good spouse to Gojyo all this time?

Have I been atoning for being a bad husband by being a good wife? And if so, am I failing in my duties by letting Gojyo live downstairs, where he doesn’t have to share his living space and can do as he wishes?

Does he want me to…?

Footsteps on the stairs wrench my attention out of my thoughts, and I can see a flash of red between door and frame as Gojyo turns his back to the door and knocks over his shoulder.

“Good morning, Mister Hakkai,” he calls with only a hint of hangover in his voice. He sounds…hopeful. “Your motor carriage awaits you downstairs, and I will be off to the side with my back turned, as promised. I’ll lock up once you’re settled, and we should be in Weilan by mid-afternoon.”

Without waiting for an answer, he rattles back down the stairs.

Slowly, I stand and pull the cloak back around me with the tips of my talons. Then, shuffling carefully, I edge my way to the door and nudge it open. Hakuryuu is idling at the foot of the stairs, and as promised, Gojyo is off to the side, smoking with his back turned. Aside from not seeing my monstrous form, I am glad he is not watching because I am fairly certain that I am not going to be even remotely graceful descending the stairs.

Step by step, clutching the railing with the short, stubby fingers of both hands, I back down the stairs as though they might rise up and throw me off at any moment, and manage to make it to the ground without falling. Climbing into the back of the jeep is also awkward, but at least I can let myself fall over and curl up, back against the front seats, the cloak covering me from head to…ankle.

I can hear Gojyo’s boots rattle up the stairs, the door close and lock, and then back down. He settles into the driver’s seat and Hakuryuu chirps happily before pulling away. The gently-vibrating motion and familiar feel of her chi – not to mention the steady glow of Gojyo’s – soothe everything away, and with relief I fall into sleep.

***********************************************************