Born of Aether: An Elemental Origins Novel (Elemental Origins Series Book 4)

by A. L. Knorr

  The hair on the back of my neck stood up at the name that I had used to address my captor for many decades.

  "The offense?" Raiden asked. "So all can hear." His voice was almost jovial.

  "I am unable to pay my debt by the agreed upon date, and humbly request an extension."

  The room grew quiet. I stole a glance up at Raiden. His eyes narrowed, his fingers stroking his chin. Although he looked thoughtful, I had the impression that he already knew what he wanted—he was being pensive just for show.

  "You may have your extension," he said, finally. "But a delay in repaying a debt, especially one as large as yours, will require an answer." He paused, lips apart.

  I thought of Inaba and closed my eyes. I knew what was coming and what Raiden had meant by ‘ceremony.’

  “Yubitsume," said Raiden. As simply as though he’d asked for a coffee, Raiden ordered Fujio to cut off a finger joint.

  My eyes flew to Raiden, horrified. Only with great effort did I pull them back down to the floor.

  Fujio's face remained impassive, completely void of all expression. He bowed once. There was movement behind me as a man crossed the room and out of my view. He reappeared carrying a small wooden table which he set down in front of Fujio. A small white cloth, no larger than a napkin was produced from his back pocket and laid over the table’s surface. He moved off to the side again, where I couldn't see him behind Raiden's chair.

  Fujio knelt at the table and sat back on his haunches. He rolled the cuffs of his shirt up his forearms, his movements slow and methodical.

  The man who had brought the table reappeared holding a long blade. He held it out with both hands, open flat for Fujio to take. But Fujio put up a palm, declining the blade.

  My heart thudded with dread and the cold fingers of disgust wrapped around my spine.

  Fujio reached to his belt and pulled out his own knife, one I hadn't noticed as it was hidden in the folds of his clothing. He spread his left hand out flat on the white napkin and the tip of the blade near the end of his pinkie finger. I noticed that he'd already lost the first knuckle of his left pinkie. Fujio had done this before.

  I stifled a gasp as he brought the blade down hard. No different than cutting through a sausage. It happened so fast I had no time to look away. The napkin blossomed with red from the wound, but Fujio made no sound of pain. His face remained as it had always been—impassive.

  I felt unable to tear my gaze away from the small segment of flesh and bone sitting there on the napkin. The man who'd delivered the table handed Fujio what looked like a bandage. Fujio took it and wrapped up his bleeding stub. Immediately the bandage soaked through with red.

  I was certain that every person in the room could hear my heart pounding. A burning sensation hit the back of my throat and I closed my eyes, thinking I might be sick. How did I get here? All of the little muscles around my spine were trembling with anguish for the man who'd been forced to mutilate himself. Sitting there on my knees on the thin mat, I could barely keep my eyes on the floor as Fujio wrapped up what was left of his pinkie finger in the white cloth and stood. His face had been leeched of color, but still he made no expression of pain.

  Fujio approached Raiden solemnly and bowed, holding out the napkin containing his sacrifice. "Thank you, for giving me the opportunity to make amends."

  My jaw went slack and I had to snap it closed. Thank you?

  "Wait," Raiden said, raising his fingertips from the armrest of his chair. "One last thing and you will be absolved of all offense."

  Fujio dropped his chin and waited, his eyes on the floor.

  Raiden stood up and took off his suit jacket. He stepped down from the platform and strode toward the wall of weaponry, looking it over casually. He unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt, undid the cufflinks at his wrists and tossed them to one of the men, who caught them. He turned back to Fujio. "Choose your weapon," he said with a smug smile.

  For the first time, Fujio wore an expression other than emptiness and a mirrored vacancy. The shock came and went in a flash, but it was clear as crystal that he had not expected this.

  I scanned the other faces in the room and there were a few looks shared among the men, but most kept their faces serene. This was an unusual turn of events. Clearly, Raiden wanted to fight, but what did that mean? To the death? Only until enough blood had been spilled to satisfy him? Fujio had just lost the tip of his finger. Blood dripped onto the floor from the soaked bandage. How was he supposed to wield a sword?

  I couldn't watch, and squirmed on my mat, my eyes darting for the door. I struggled to maintain the focus on why I was here as the horrific events unfolded in front of me.

  As Fujio walked the wall of weapons, every eye in the room was on his back. Perhaps no one would notice me sneak out. I leaned forward and pushed myself halfway to my feet, moving slowly.

  "Stay," Raiden said.

  I looked up and caught his eye. His gaze nailed me to the spot like a rail-spike through my spine. His voice was soft, but it was not a request; it was a command.

  I knelt again, my mind racing. I used the opportunity to scan the wall of blades, working hard to keep my face neutral and use the time for a focused search instead of watching the grim story unfolding in front of me. Beads of sweat gathered at my temples. My scalp itched and my makeup felt sticky, but I didn't dare scratch or rub my face.

  My eyes skimmed each weapon in turn, homing in on short swords. The lighting was dim. A handful of sconces between the beams cast a yellow glow over the scene. Striped and warped shadows fell along the walls and floors.

  My eyes fell on a short sword at the top of a rack of weapons. I needed bird vision to be able to tell its color from the distance I was at, but I could tell it was a lighter tone, and I could make out a design of some kind on the sheath. I continued to scan, ignoring the murmurs of conversation going on in the room as the men helped prepare Fujio to fight.

  A handful of other wakizashi came to my attention, but I thought that the colors were either too dark, or the designs on them didn't seem to be of trees. I kept going back to the one at the very top of the rack, more and more convinced that it was the sword I was seeking. I stared at it so hard my eyes began to water and I had to blink to clear them.

  When I glanced at the men again my heart leapt into my throat.

  Raiden had unbuttoned his shirt all the way, exposing the intricate tattoos the yakuza were known for. The front of his chest was tattooed with swimming koi. They spiraled over his shoulders and chest, and swam toward a cluster of chrysanthemum blossoms across his belly. But it wasn't the flowers or the fish that made my blood turn to ice. For in between, evil faces surfacing from the water and droplets falling from their red skin, were three Oni. Raiden dropped his shirt and handed it to one of his men, turning his back toward me.

  My skin puckered with goosebumps and I suppressed a shiver of horror. Across his back was a horrifying, three-headed demon. Glaring green eyes, red skin, black talons on its hands and feet, and a spiked club lifted and ready to strike. Cherry blossoms wrapped around its legs and disappeared under the waist of Raiden's belt.

  Raiden gestured to Fujio to choose his weapon first. Fujio took a slow turn about the room, scanning. The remainder of his finger had been re-bandaged, though spots of blood had already appeared. His face appeared pale and waxy, even in the yellow light. I thought I saw his hand tremble as he choose a long katana from a bottom row. It was encased in a black lacquer sheath, and gracefully curved. He grasped it by the leather-wrapped handle, unsheathed the silver blade, and held it up for everyone to see. The tip of the blade wavered slightly in Fujio’s weakened grip.

  Raiden wandered the room more slowly than Fujio had, basking in the eyes taking in the art on his naked torso. He brushed his long fingers against the sheaths of several weapons. The room felt like it was holding its collective breath. I was definitely holding mine and had to consciously remind myself to inhale and exhale.

  My eyes darted back
to the wakizashi, trying to formulate a plan to take the weapon, but I couldn't focus on the short sword anymore. The tension in the room had risen to an unbearable level. Sweat dampened my lower back and my fingertips were freezing. Was I about to witness a murder? I tucked my hands into the folds of my dress in an effort to warm them.

  Raiden reached up high and pulled down a long red sheath encrusted with shiny black stones. Black leather ties dangled from the hilt as he pulled the sword from its sheath. The silver blade reflected a dull gold in the light. It was the size of it that took my breath away. I was certain that stood on its tip next to me, it would tower over me by several inches.

  Raiden gripped the hilt in both hands, holding it straight up. His face hardened and focused. His sharp widow's peak hairline cut a jagged frame on his brow and reminded me of portraits of Dracula that I'd seen in art books in the school library. He made sweeping motions with the sword to warm up, rotating his arms and taking light quick steps, like a dancer. His muscles jumped under his skin and the faces of the Oni on his back seemed to come alive. The blade swiped through the air, cutting through the space with sharp whooshes of sound. Had I been Fujio, I would have been filled with terror. As it was, I had tremors of empathetic waves of fright coursing through me on behalf of the older man.

  I glanced at Fujio. He was making an effort to appear unintimidated but he swayed slightly on his feet and his eyes were not so impassive as they had been. My heart ached for him. I reminded myself that like Inaba's son, he chose this life. These men gave themselves to the yakuza way. They couldn't be surprised when they found they were in peril because of it.

  17

  Raiden and Fujio moved to the center of the room, standing a few strides apart.

  "Ready, ojiisan?" Raiden snarled as he raised the gold-gleaming sword to shoulder height. The blade’s cruel light matched the shine of the Oni faces upon the oyabun's trunk.

  Fujio took a steadying breath and then, his mouth a grim line, he gave a sharp "Hai!" and it began.

  I found myself frozen to the floor, unable to look away as Fujio came on, katana sweeping from low to high with a simple, strong swing. It looked like it was made to cleave from the inner thigh to up under the chin. He never got that far, though.

  Raiden stabbed his long-bladed sword downward, arresting the rising blade with a ringing clash. He then stepped into the deflection and snapped an elbow forward to smash across Fujio's brow and send him staggering backwards. The muscles around my spine and in my abdomen quivered with terror as I realized this was no play fight. Raiden didn't follow up with another sword stroke, though. A look of sadistic rapture spread across his face as he watched his prey flounder.

  Fujio grunted as he righted himself, blood blackening the gray hair at his temple before tracing a thin crimson bead between the valleys of his weathered face.

  "Come on, old tiger," Raiden chuckled, a sound devoid of mirth or sympathy. "Don't you have any teeth left?"

  I slumped in relief, thinking that it was over before it had begun, but something flashed through Fujio's pained eyes. Ferocity, or perhaps just the memory of being fierce, rippled over him and he held his katana with new strength, despite the blood that dribbled from his bandaged hand. I wanted to scream at them to stop, but there was too much at stake for me. Instead, I sat frozen in silent horror.

  "There they are," Raiden bellowed and the two duelists rushed to meet each other again. Raiden came in with a sweeping swing, a blow easily capable of taking Fujio's head from his shoulders. The older man had come in for a thrust, but seeing the reaper's stroke descending, his stab morphed into a ducking crouch. The long blade whistled by and Raiden gave a surprised uuumpf as Fujio surged upward, shoulder first, to deliver a heavy body-check. The oyabun staggered and Fujio, eyes shining with a wild mixture of fear and pride, raised his blade as if for a killing stroke.

  A soft gasp escaped from several of the spectators. But the aged yakuza's body betrayed him, his visibly stiff shoulder joints and back slowing him.

  Roaring savagely, Raiden drove a fist upward and outward. Fujio's head led the rest of his body in an arched flight backward. It seemed a stunned fraction of eternity before he hit the ground with a heavy thud. Even the timbers seemed to vibrate.

  The men around the room visibly winced at the impact.

  Raiden was already walking forward, no more playfully stalking by the way he rolled his broad body into the slow gait. Either he did not realize how very close he came to actual defeat or he refused to acknowledge it. He radiated a serpentine arrogance.

  Fujio, blood oozing from a mouth twisted out of shape, made to rise, leveraging himself on the katana still gripped in one fist. His eyes were screwed shut and his breath came in wet pants.

  Raiden let Fujio stagger to his feet, but only just before his sword licked out in a contemptuous one handed slash. My hands flew to my mouth as a long gash opened the meat of Fujio's forearm. The old man gave a hoarse cry, the sword falling from his mangled limb, and collapsed to one knee. Clutching his savaged arm with his disfigured hand, Fujio choked out a gasp and raised his agonized eyes to meet Raiden's.

  Raiden met the stare, unflinching and almost playful, and then laughed again, a cold, hungry sound. The sound seemed like it might have come from the dark water in which the tattooed koi swam; something subterranean, dark and evil.

  The oyabun raised his heavy sword to his shoulder, as if preparing for a decapitating stroke, but then delivered a front kick to the old man's chest. Fujio hit the floor hard and slid a foot or so, and then lay still, the puddle of blood around him slowly growing.

  Fujio lay upon the floor his hand and arm bleeding freely, but he still clung to life with each hitching breath.

  "You are absolved," Raiden said flatly as he turned his back on his broken opponent and moved away. His gaze fell on me as he passed and the grim arrogance in his eyes turned my blood cold. It took everything I had to keep my face impassive and for a second I was thankful for the white paste which hid most of my expression.

  As though the words gave permission for the men to move, half a dozen of them went to Fujio's side and helped him up. A towel was bound around his arm and the man half-stumbled and was half-carried from the dojo.

  "All of you," Raiden said, and the handful of men standing back made their way toward the door. I moved to get to my feet when he pointed at me and added, "Not you."

  I sank back down, swallowing hard, my eyes darting to the wakizashi. Whatever Raiden had in mind for me, it wasn't going to be good. I had to make a move of some kind.

  The last of the men left the room, sliding the door shut behind them. Only the sound of Raiden's breathing could be heard. My heart doubled its rhythm and I closed my eyes and steeled myself.

  "Stand up," he said, his voice deceptively soft.

  I slowly got to my feet, keeping my eyes down. My mind raced and my palms grew clammy.

  He spread his long arms wide. The splatters of blood across his face and chest were not his own. The blood on his chest looked like part of his tattoo. The Oni faces rising out from between the koi grinned wickedly at me. A tongue snaked out of one of the Oni's fanged mouths and licked at the splatters of Fujio's blood. The blood disappeared into the ugly maw, and the Oni smile grew wider.

  I swallowed my own gasp and Inaba's story came rushing back to me in full force. I began to crave the feeling of blood on my skin.

  "Was I not magnificent?" Raiden asked, taking a step toward me. His tattoos glistened with sweat. "Was I not merciful, in the end?"

  Nausea rose in the back of my throat and I swallowed a gag. I kept my eyes down so he couldn't see the disgust, the anger, and the fear simmering there. "Magnificent," I murmured.

  He closed the distance between us with a few strides. The smell of sweat and blood and salt swept over me. He put hot, damp palms on either side of my shoulders.

  "You are afraid. You do not need to fear me," he said, bringing his lips close to my ear, "as long as you do everything
I say, you will be protected. Cherished, even."

  The softer sounds in his words hissed out and lingered long under the hard sounds. It was not the voice of a man. He towered over me, his chin easily clearing the top of my geisha wig.

  He leaned in close and I was at eye level with an Oni face tattooed just under his collarbone. One piercing Oni eye shut slowly, and reopened.

  I cringed and bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. It was my job to remove these evil spirits from this man's body. But I was completely outmatched and incapable. I was small and weak by comparison. Worse, I was full of doubt. I might not make it out of here unscathed.

  Raiden's hands slipped around me and went to the ties at my back. Panic exploded in my chest and flapped wildly under my ribs like a caged bird. I took a breath in, my mind racing for what to do. My eyes darted to the wakizashi, visible over Raiden's shoulder. I stood there, rooted to the spot like a petrified tree, as he untied my belt. I felt my dress loosen as the belt fell to the floor. Next he pushed the wig and cap from my head. My own black strands fell loose around my shoulders.

  He made a deep humming sound in his throat. "Beautiful," he growled. "You know what I like to do to beautiful things?"

  He moved his hands back to my shoulders, his fingertips hooking at the collar of my robe. One tug and the whole thing would fall open and leave me exposed. He bent lower still and I felt the tip of his nose graze my cheekbone. He inhaled deeply.

  Then he froze, his face next to mine. His fingers dug into my shoulders hard and he pulled his face back abruptly. His countenance had changed, his eyes were wide with shock and surprise.

  "Kin?" He breathed the word out underneath the hum that seemed to have no end as it vibrated from his throat. He took another inhale.

  My entire body was trembling now, every nerve and cell screaming to run. I could not leave without that wakizashi, and there was no way this man would let me leave with it, let alone take a step.