5A/N: Warning: some violence, gore and implied rape.
There wasn't much light that night with the anemic, spring moon struggled to keep its place in the rough, cloudy sky. The wind howled, and for a brief moment, a whirlwind of dead leaves, small twigs and flower petals rose and fell. With the moon loomed behind it, the small, thatched roof cottage cast dark, moving shadows, larger-than-life on the barren yard, swallowing the four men surrounding the cottage.
"It's too quiet," one of the men said. "I think we're too late."
"Captain Sato, over here," another man remarked, pointing at the muddy footprints leaving the cottage, leading towards the town. Upon a closer inspection however, the men found that the footprints were covered in congealed blood, not mud.
"We need to follow that," said the Captain, a big and rough-looking middle-aged man. "But first, we need to check if there's any survivor. Send in Morioka."
"Oy, demonling, time for you to earn your pay," one of the men sneered at a young, solemn-faced swordsman. Under the moonlight, his skin was deathly pale and his peculiar, light amber eyes were almost silver.
Of course, Ren Morioka thought. Whenever there was a possibility of danger, they would always send him in first. But what choice did he have? He crept silently towards the sliding front entrance, his hand already on the hilt of his main sword.
As soon as he cracked the door open, the coppery stench hit him hard. The smell of blood always made his stomach curl. At first. Then an unwelcome feeling of excitement flickered in the pit of his belly. After that first unease, the thick, iron smell exhilarated him, sending a chilly but not unpleasant shiver down his spine. Yes, the smell had always affected him strongly. More so than the sight of the slaughter. More so than the sight of smears and splatters on the walls and on the floor, a nightmarish landscape painted in red.
Five men, he counted, fallen around the indoor fire pit whose fire had died down into embers, bathing the room with warm, golden light, making it look cozy if not for the gruesome sight of the dead bodies. The men's limbs were torn apart, bellies ripped open and chewed and spat out. A young woman, the daughter he assumed, was slumped in one corner, face down. Gingerly he approached her, stepping between the dark stains on the floor. He crouched down and turned her around. And he regretted doing that as soon as he saw her face.
Her face was frozen in a grotesque mask of fear, pain and humiliation. Her clothes were in tatters and there were raw welts around her wrists and a red gush across her throat. There were scratches and bruises all over her and something thick and pink pooling between her bent and spread legs.
Poor girl, he thought as he averted his eyes from the dead girl's suffering. He grabbed a piece of garment discarded on the floor and covered her, turning his face away from her during the whole time.
And they told me I was the monster.
But where is the mother?
He surveyed the wretched room once more. There was nothing else he could do here. "It's clear," he raised his voice.
The rest of the group piled into the room, stepping carefully around the bodies, checking to see if there was anything worth keeping. One of them lifted the garment which covered the dead peasant girl and made a vulgar comment.
While the men busied themselves with the bodies, Ren slipped out. He needed to find the mother before the others. He picked up his pace, following the trail of the bloodied footprints. His wide trousers and generous sleeves billowed around him. Hold out, I'm coming. Please don't kill anymore.
The footprints led him to a field of tall grasses whipping in the harsh wind. There were a few large trees with new buds scattered in that field. She was a few paces ahead, ambling between two trees, dipped in blood. She was a little taller than average men, with long sinewy arms which ended up in sharp, talon-like claws. Her waist length hair was coarse and tossed wildly around her.
He chased after her, shouting, "Stop!"
She spun around. The wind whistled and the grasses crackled. The tall grasses were strong and sturdy. They bent in the wind but didn't break. And their edges were sharp as hell.
Gingerly Ren edged closer, keeping his eyes on the berserker who in turn, watched his every move. "I know you've lost everything today. But you had your vengeance, you don't need this form anymore. Turn back." He heard quick footsteps approaching. The men were catching up. He didn't have much time. "If there is still humanity left in you, turn back."
The berserker raised her head with its long pointy ears, its single horn on the forehead and shrieked at the moon, "Why?" The white of her eyes had turned red and the iris had turned yellow, reptile-like. The lower part of her face had morphed into a long snout giving way to jagged teeth. "Why?"
There was never a good answer to that question. "It's over," Ren tried a soothing tone. "You can rest now. Let it go."
The men arrived with their swords already drawn. Only Ren still had his swords sheathed. He could sense the she-monster stiffened. There was a low, guttural sound reverberated out of her as she quivered slightly in anticipation of sinking her claws and teeth into the soft flesh and tear it apart.
"That's her!" The captain's voice boomed. "Kill her!"
"Wait!" Ren raised both of his hands up. But he knew the men wouldn't listen to him. He turned and shouted, "You had your vengeance, berserker! Those men are dead. They would never come back! Stop this madness!"
They never did of course. No matter how much he begged. It was a point of no return they had crossed.
She shrieked as she ploughed into the men, sending most of them flying with a swoop of her arm. One of the men screamed and tried to crawl away. She leaped on top of him and sunk her teeth into his neck.
Blood splattered on the ground. There was an awful crunching sound and the man's scream turned into a gurgle. Damn it, Ren thought. That smell of blood again. It thrilled his very core as it reached his nose. She wouldn't stop until they were all dead. He withdrew his blade, the sharp metal gleamed. "Oy berserker," he said as he gripped the sword with both hands in front of him, "why don't you pick on someone your own size?"
She whipped her head over her shoulder. The lower half of her face was covered in dripping crimson liquid. She hurled herself towards Ren on all four, grunting harshly like a rabid dog.
He rushed to meet her, head on. Not yet, he gripped his weapon tighter. Not yet. Wait until she's closer. Now. He dodged to the right as he swung his arms, his blade cut diagonally from bottom left to top right. The metal sliced through her flesh like it was nothing. He stopped a few steps away. "Sorry," he flicked his sword, dark spots hit the ground, "but I don't want to die yet."
He heard her slump onto the ground and the men cheered. He felt flushed, his heart raced. This almost felt like pleasure. The remorse would come much later.
Betraying the thumping march in his chest, he took a rag out of his obi and wiped his blade calmly before sliding it back into its scabbard. Watching him, one man whispered to another, "Look at how calm the demonling is, as calm as the dead. They felt no sorrow, these demonlings. No regret. No mercy. Nothing beats in their evil hearts."
"You can come out now," Ren said loudly.
A tall man slipped out of the shadows of a tree. He was dressed in western clothes. Ren tilted his head slightly and took in the newcomer's dark hair held back in a short, low ponytail, his narrow eyes under the thick eyebrows and his high, thin nose with one sweeping side glance. The man carried a heavy pack on his back and a sword on his waist.
"Who the hell are you?" Captain Sato glared.
"Please forgive me," the tall man bowed. "My name is Andou Tadaoki and it's not my intention to intrude. I'm here to observe the berserker, which," he straightened up and studied Ren with a direct but not unfriendly gaze, "you've disposed of with quite a skill." A demonling, Andou thought. He had never seen a life one up close. He noted the sword and dagger, the dark hair cut in a western style, the freckle just under the right edge of his mouth. The demonling couldn't be older than eighteen or twenty years - a few years younger than Andou - and was clearly trying to ignore him.
"This is a dangerous place, Mr. Tadaoki, you're not supposed to be here," Captain Sato said.
"I have a mandate from the magistrate Lord Torii to investigate this matter." Andou handed him a wooden cylinder with round cap.
The Captain uncapped the cylinder and tipped it so a scroll of paper fell onto his hand. He unrolled the paper and scanned its content. "Hm.." he says. "Seems legit enough. So you are to investigate why are these people turning into berserkers, into wild, raging demons."
Andou bowed once more, but not as low as he did before. "If I could count on your cooperation, Captain Sato, I would be grateful."
"I'm aware of my place, young master Tadaoki," Sato replied brusquely. Against his wish, he bowed deeply towards the young master. Then he turned his head towards Ren. "Hey Morioka, come here!"
What does he want now? Ren threw a sharp glance towards the Captain. He was anxious to go home, to take a bath and wash away the smell of blood which seemed to cling to him, which had turned from intoxicating to sickening. But he obeyed the Captain and came closer.
"This is Ren Morioka," Sato said to Andou. "As you can see, he's a natural born demonling. He would help you for tonight. But tomorrow, you will have to speak to the police chief inspector if you still require our...services." To the rest of the men, he barked, "We're done here! Let's go!"
After the Captain and his men were out of hearing range, Andou said, "First I need to sample the woman's blood then I need your help Morioka." His tone of voice was confident and firm, hinting at the fact that he was used to order men around, that he was used to be obeyed. And why wouldn't he? He was a descendant of a daimyo, a feudal lord, an aristocrat. "I need to sample all the water in this woman's house and her source of water."
Ren sighed. He wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. "Very well. Do what you need to do and then I'll take you to her house and the village's well. That's where she most likely got her water from."
#
Ren had to admit it had impressed him a little that Andou didn't even flinch at the sight of carnage as they entered the little cottage.
"Why did you try to reason with that woman?" Andou asked as he produced a couple of empty glass vials out of his pack. He took a few drops of water with a glass stopper from the house's only water jug.
So he heard that. Ren considered his question.
"Did you really think that she could turn back?" Andou pressed on. He filled the glass bottles with the water sample and replaced them back into the pack.
"I heard a few stories where a berserker turned back into human," Ren replied. That answer seemed safe enough. "I thought I might as well try." He shrugged, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, hoping that his response would be satisfactory.
Apparently Andou wasn't satisfied as he continued to prod, "Did you feel sorry for her? Perhaps you felt a little...kinship towards her and you wanted to protect her?"
Ren hesitated. He didn't understand why Andou asked so many questions. People didn't usually care one way or another. They just wanted their demon trouble to disappear. No one had ever asked him how he felt about it. Andou's questions put him on his guard. He shifted his gaze away from the other man's calculating eyes and decided to answer the prodding questions with a cool silence.
"I'm done here," Andou said. "Please take me to the well."
Without responding, Ren walked out of the cottage. Andou had no choice but to follow him.
At the well, Ren drew a bucket of water silently for Andou to sample. When he was done, Andou said, "What a wretched night. I'm so tired. Hey, Morioka, is it possible for you to put me up for the night?"
A barely concealed annoyance rose in Ren's cat-like eyes. He didn't want to have to put up with this stranger with his glass vials and his obtuse questions for the night. "I live in an old monastery, with a spartan facility. Wouldn't it be more convenient for you to stay at an inn in town? I can take you to a nice one."
"Monastery is fine. Lead the way."
Disgruntled, Ren led the Andou to a small temple which had fallen into disrepair. The walls surrounding the temple needed to be patched up but money had been tight. In contrast to the crumbling walls, the small garden beyond the gates was carefully tended, a thoughtful arrangement of rocks, moss-covered grounds, neatly trimmed bushes around a large blossoming willow tree. Under the moon, the tree trunk was just a dark silhouette, its drooping branches were heavy with yellow flowers. Every time the wind blew, these branches swayed gracefully, and flowers rained on the earth like flecks of gold.
"Ren, you're back!" A slight man in his early thirties stood by the entrance of the main building and greeted them with a smile. "Oh, and we have a guest!"
"This is my older brother Kenji Morioka. Brother, this is young master Andou Tadaoki. He needs a place to stay for the night."
"Ah, welcome to our humble home," Kenji bowed. "Please come in." As he led Andou and Ren in, he kept on talking, "I'm sorry for such a spartan home. We don't receive overnight guests very often you see. The bath is ready if you would like to wash. Dinner should be ready in half an hour. Only rice and turnips, unfortunately. I'm afraid that's all we have..."
#
After dinner, Kenji and Andou sat on the main room with its sliding door wide open, enjoying the night breeze and the view of the garden.
"You are Ren's older brother," Andou started, "and yet, you are not a demonling?" He kept his eyes at Ren who paced slowly around the willow tree, swallowed in deep thoughts. The demonling seemed so serene. He had heard that demonlings were supposed to be blood-thirsty, short-tempered, uncouth, immoral beings. It had surprised him to find one who seemed to be so calm and collected. Or perhaps, he mused silently, he had mistaken coldness with calmness.
"We are not related by blood," Kenji broke Andou's train of thought. "Before he passed away, the head priest told us that we were as good as brothers and that we could use his last name."
"Is that so?"
"Yes, like many peasants, I wasn't born with a last name and my birth family was long dead before I came here to become a priest," Kenji continued. His voice was calm and measured. His breaths were short and slightly raspy. Kenji seemed to exert a lot of energy just to breathe. "And Ren was left here on the steps of the monastery one night when he was just a baby."
"I'm sorry if this is too abrupt, but are you ill, Mr. Morioka?" Andou asked.
"Ah," Kenji cast his eyes down to the floor. "I have never been strong. My health has always been...tricky, at best."
"Hmm..." Andou said. "Have you had a doctor to look at you?" His gaze was still on Ren, who was now standing at one spot, one palm on the tree trunk, lips moving faintly as if he was reciting something to himself. His sharply chiseled profile reminded Andou of a newborn blade. Outwardly, the new metal would gleam with understated elegance, proud and cold. Inwardly, it would be impatient to go into battle, to shed the first blood.
"I have, yes," Kenji sighed. "I'm frail so I can't work for very long. Thus, the task of earning enough money for food and medicine falls on my younger brother's shoulders."
"Is that so?" Andou replied. "And you said the old master, your adopted father, had passed away?"
"Yes, his ashes are buried under that willow tree in the garden."
A sudden breeze hushed by, rustling Ren's hair and for a moment, Andou thought that he caught a pained expression on Ren's face, which disappeared in the blink of an eye. Andou wondered idly if demonlings might not be as immoral or heartless as people thought. Before he could stop himself, he started to speculate of what Ren could be thinking or feeling.
"It's getting late," Kenji rose to his feet. "Do you mind if I retire for the night?"
"Not at all," Andou replied, also getting up. "Have a good night." They bowed at each other.
As Kenji departed the main room, Andou slipped his feet into his wooden sandals and strolled towards the willow tree.
"Under the old tree," Ren murmured softly, pacing towards one direction. "His bones withered..." He shook his head. "No, that's not good," he turned and paced towards the opposite direction. "Let's see, under the old tree-"
"What are you muttering about?"
Ren glanced over his shoulder at Andou. The taller man's face was mostly in shadows, reducing it to sharp angles and planes, but even then, Ren thought that he could still sense the man's unrelenting gaze on him. "I was trying to compose a poem," Ren looked away, "for someone..."
"For your adopted father whose ashes are buried under this tree?"
"I see," Ren remarked coolly. He seemed as if he was talking to the tree instead of to Andou. "So my brother told you."
"I'm sorry for your loss," Andou said.
Ren responded with what sounded like an irritated huff followed by a complete silence.
"Your brother also told me about his health, about how you have been taking care of him," Andou pressed on.
Under the tree, Ren stood still, his face stoic, peering at something in the distance.
"Must be a heavy burden for you," Andou added.
"Not at all," Ren replied. He started to stroll towards one end of the garden.
What can I say to get a reaction out of that ivory mask, Andou wondered. For some unexplained reasons, he wanted the demonling to show some sort of human emotion, to show Andou that he was capable of feeling. He caught up with Ren. Side-by-side the two men walked leisurely across that moonlit garden. Their cotton kimonos flapped once in a while in the wind.
"Is that so? Oh, but I think it's more difficult that you've let out. What with the rumours that the Emperor contemplating a ban on Buddhism and with you as a demonling..." Andou paused to let his words sink "I don't think anyone from the town or the surrounding villages is donating any alms to this temple, am I correct?" he continued. "Is that why even though you're a priest, you have to take jobs outside the monastery? So you can survive and purchase medicine for your brother?"
"I'm not a priest," Ren said, "I'm allowed to work outside the monastery." Him and his questions. Why does Andou ask these questions? He kept his strolling pace and his face closed, not willing to let out any hint of annoyance or worry. It was true what Andou had speculated. No one had given the temple any donation since the old master Morioka passed away. Even in the last few years when he was still alive, the alms had steadily decreased in size and frequency. Master Morioka had to send away most of the priests to other temples as he could no longer afford to house and feed them.
Kenji's medicine is getting more and more expensive as the time goes on, Ren thought darkly, and he's not getting any better. A pained feeling rose in his chest and he was weary to the bones. He had loved his adopted brother as much as he loved the old master Morioka. The thought that he might one day lose his brother as well, was unbearable.
"I see. Well, even so, it must be quite difficult to earn a living as a demonling," Andou said and waited for a response. When none was forthcoming, he added, "I suppose we all have our burden to bear."
A rage born from the deepest, darkest pit inside Ren, flowed through his body, all the way to his toes and fingers. Even his hair felt as if it was on fire. What does this strange man know about burden? Andou didn't seem like a peasant. He reeked of wealth, privilege and a charmed life. Struggling to maintain his composure, Ren said tersely, "Fine words, Mr. Tadaoki. But I doubt someone like you has anything to bear. Good night." He turned and stormed into the house.
"Well, well," Andou followed Ren's retreating figure with his eyes. "I think I just saw cracks on his armour. Hah!" He smiled to himself. "And if I'm not mistaken, I've just been put in my place by a demonling." His smile widened. He couldn't understand why but he found prodding Ren until the latter showed flashes of emotions, amusing.