McGann frowned. “I don't know what they were doing to you exactly, but I think that they intensified some of the issues that you were having."
"How could they do that?” Wolf asked. “Without me knowing what they were doing? Wouldn't I remember if they were doing something like that to me?"
"Telepathy,” I said. “Hoodoo, but not really."
"That isn't a good explanation,” McGann objected, trying not to frown.
"Shit, that's the best that you're going to get from me,” I told her.
"I don't believe you,” Wolf said. “Why would someone do something like that to me?"
"Because Mason didn't cooperate with them, and I have defenses against that kind of meddling. Being a psychic isn't as easy as they make it look in the comics and in bad sci fi movies. I know that from experience."
"I can believe Mason not cooperating with anyone, but I don't believe that there is any such thing as psychic powers,” Wolf said firmly.
McGann bit her lip when he said that. I was just glad he stopped looking like he was going to punch out the next person who said hello to him. But I was going to bust his bubble about the psychic stuff, because McGann didn't look like she was going to. I just hoped she didn't bite though her lip or something stupid like that, because it looked like she was that upset about his tone of voice. Or maybe she was worried about what he would think about her once he knew what she was. Or what she had probably done.
"Psychic powers ain't bullshit,” I said. “Just like hoodoo ain't. You believe in hoodoo. That's the shit that got us here."
"I do,” Wolf said cautiously.
"So that psychic shit is real too. They just don't run around in silly robes or get to move shit about with a wave of their hand. They also can't tell you ‘these aren't the droids that you're looking for’ and have you just waved though like it was nothing. The psis actually have normal dull and stupid jobs like the rest of us,” I said before I dropped the bomb on him. “I know this shit, because I know that McGann is psychic."
"Why didn't I know that you'd use Star Wars references to try and explain things,” McGann said with a tired smile. Wolf just stared at her. I didn't blame him; it was a bit of a shock when you found this shit out. I had found it by accident, and it hadn't been pretty.
"Why else do you think that nice of a lady would work for such a shitty organization as the Trust?” I asked. “She did because they had something on her. That thing was that she was psychic."
"You make it sound like they forced me to do so,” McGann said. But I noticed she wasn't laughing.
"More like the fucking Mafia,” I said. “They made you an offer you couldn't refuse."
"Nothing that drastic,” she told me, getting the movie reference, since it was a classic. “But it was made quite clear by the one who recruited me that it was in my best interests to say yes. No matter what was required of me."
"So if they're willing to do something that shitty to her and willing to carve someone into fucking chitlins to open a gate here, a little wholesale slaughter ain't going to fucking keep them up at night,” I summarized.
"Chitlins?” Wolf repeated, trying to figure out the reference.
"Every time someone opens a gate from our world to here,” McGann said, “They kill someone for that power. Tamazusa is the only person I know who doesn't have to kill to do that.” She was silent for a moment, calculating something in her head, her lips moving soundlessly as she figured out the math. She looked white as a sheet when she was done, and her knees just buckled. Wolf managed to catch her before I did, and that calmed the two of them down.
"Five hundred people,” she told him softly, before she buried her head in his shoulder and started to cry helplessly.
Wolf started stroking her hair and crooning in her ear. I didn't stick around to see what happened next, even if there was no “next” right now. I made my way out into the night to see if there was space someplace else for me tonight. To tell you the truth, as jaded as I was, knowing that the Trustees were fuckers who would rob the gold out of their mother's’ teeth, it still chilled me to the bone to know how many people they had killed to get an army here, as well as the thousands they had killed when they had arrived here.
* * * *
Keno
Samojirou and I walked back to our room in silence. I waited until the maid slid the door shut and walked away before I said anything.
"I wish that you had discussed that with me,” I told him softly. “Not that we really gave each other much time to discuss any plans."
"Keno,” Samojirou started.
I went over and hugged him. “I'm angry that you made the decision and didn't tell me that you had done so before you announced it. I'm not angry that you made it."
Maybe I was too submissive for my own good. Or it could be that I would never shake off the Trust's conditioning that arguing with someone or giving them my opinion would result in me getting hurt or killed. But I was also too scared that I would start doing something weird if I went with Aboshi to that battlefield. That I'd pick up a sword and never put it down again, either because I couldn't—due to the constant challenges based on who I had been—or I wouldn't because I liked killing so much that I turned into a mad dog.
"Keno,” Samojirou said softly, “I am sorry."
"I accept that,” I said, even if I didn't think the apology was because he overstepped his bounds with me. “Be careful. I wish...."
"You wish what?” he asked, kissing my hair.
"I wish that I could go with you,” I admitted. “But I know that I shouldn't. Was I so different before?"
He hesitated before answering, picking his words carefully before telling me quietly. “I think that you wouldn't understand your ancestor."
"Could I be him?"
"Keno-chan?” Samojirou asked, sounding a little panicky.
"I... I know that you love me,” I said. “I know that you love him still, also. Sometimes, because of what happened, I wonder if I'm him. That's why you never found him here. Not because he wasn't allowed into the Dreamlands, but because he never left the real world. And I'm him because he kept getting reborn into my family."
"Keno—"
"It doesn't mean you love me any less or more than him. But sometimes I just think that I'm not really me because I am him."
Samojirou tilted my head back, looking deeply into my eyes. “I don't think that you are your ancestor Inuzaka Keno. He...."
"No one wants to talk about him, not even you, Samojirou-sama,” I pointed out. “What did he do that was so bad that no one wants to tell me?"
"He took a vow,” Samojirou said softly, his eyes dark, seeing something that I all of a sudden didn't want to know about. “I met him when he was young, younger than you are but considered to be a man.” He laughed suddenly. It was bitter and sad at the same time, and I hated that I was doing this to him. “He had just fulfilled that vow. We had known each other for a short while. I was an oni, and he was one of the Hakkenshi. He didn't know that, but I did.” He took a deep breath. “And I took advantage of that knowledge."
"Did you hurt him?” I asked, searching his face for... something. All I saw was sadness. It was softened with the slight smile, so he had to be remembering something good, too.
"I like to think that I was the only person in his life who didn't hurt him,” Samojirou said.
"Aboshi, if that is true, then what happened between you was not an evil thing,” I whispered. “Even if your motives were not pure."
"He was,” Samojirou murmured, something in his voice sounding like grief. “Not in body. He had used that to get what he needed to succeed with his vow, and there had been many who enjoyed that trade. But his spirit was pure. I had hoped to corrupt him. He ended up saving me."
I kissed him. There wasn't anything else I could do but that. He didn't need to tell me anything else. Our kiss deepened, becoming desperate.
I didn't know who started tearing off the other's clothing first, but
I realized mine ended up shredded swiftly. Samojirou seemed to be growling as he sucked and nipped at my throat. All I could do was moan his name helplessly. I fumbled with his obi and kimono, and soon he was as naked as I was. I didn't know what was happening. In all honesty, while there had been a lot of touching in our relationship, there hadn't been this passion. I thought that was a result of almost losing each other.
I raked my nails across his back, hearing him groan, even if the nails were short and blunt. He arched away from them and into me, clutching at my butt, pulling me closer. I knew there would be bruises and worse soon and didn't care. I pulled out of our kiss, growling, “Fuck me. Hard. Fast. Whatever. I want to feel it!"
Samojirou looked at me in shock, since I had never said anything like that before. He did treat me like a delicate flower most of the time. I didn't want that now. I didn't know when or if I was going to see him again. I wanted something I would feel after he was gone.
He flipped me on my left side, pushing my right leg up, so that it was at an odd angle. I groped for the oil and managed to get it open and give it to him, and he started to prepare me, fast and rough. I was still a little sore from our earlier marathon lovemaking, and I winced when he touched me. Thankfully, he either didn't notice or didn't care. There was a wild look on his face, and that look made me so hard I wanted to burst.
I gasped when he pushed into me, slick and hard, not waiting for me to adjust before he did what I asked of him. Samojirou was brutal. His hips snapped into me furiously. He leaned forward, his hair falling around us, and was growling, I swear, as he proceeded to take me. It was wicked and ferocious, almost animalistic.
I lunged for his throat, sucking at it furiously, not caring that he was going to be covered in my marks. I was going to be covered in bruises. He pounded into me, and somehow I managed to get my leg around him as I shredded his back during my orgasm, bucking with him, both of us lost in our joy.
He rolled me over and continued to ride me, unable to stop, it seemed. I didn't care; I was lost in my own lust. I knew that he touched me, played with my nipples, and palmed my cock as I explored him, mindlessly touching until we both came again, violent and hard, something I couldn't even imagine before tonight. There was screaming, lots of it, and I expected someone to burst in on us to see if we were killing each other.
"I can't,” Samojirou groaned when he got his breath back.
I panted, trying to get air into my lungs, unable to say anything. I knew he was telling me he couldn't let me come with them. “I know,” I wheezed. “Just... just... I just got you back again! It's not fair!"
Samojirou didn't say anything. He didn't have to. We spent the rest of the night trying to merge with each other. It wasn't as violent as it had been earlier, but by morning, we were both covered in the results of our passion.
* * * *
The next morning, Fuse and Helga came to our room. Samojirou and I had bathed, but dressed was another matter, and I was also sitting a little gingerly at times. Samojirou looked a little guilty when I winced, but proud too. I had my own happy moments when he winced because of the scratches I had left on his back.
"Good morning!” Fuse trilled.
Helga looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here. While Fuse was wearing a beautiful peach kimono, Helga looked like she had slept in hers, since it was wrinkled as well as being a terrible color of green. It was not flattering to her at all, and I wondered where she had gotten it. I knew that Fuse wouldn't have her wearing something that dreadful on purpose. But I doubted they had a lot here that Helga would fit in. Clothing Tholf was almost as bad, but there were enough tall samurai around that he could manage to find something to wear.
Helga must have been a bit upset that we were only wearing fundoshi. The saving grace was that she wasn't ogling Samojirou. If she had been, then I would have had to hurt her. Fuse didn't seem to care, but I really didn't want my mother to see me after a night of intense sex. To put it bluntly, both of us looked like we had spent the week in a Yoshiwara pleasure house, even if we had bathed.
"Keno-chan, I thought that Helga might learn something in seeing your transformation into Sakura-dono,” Fuse announced.
I thought it might be better if she met Sakura after I was dressed in my female persona, and hopefully Helga would be like a lot of the people around here and think that we were different people. But she might give the disguise away out of spite if she didn't know from the beginning. Or it might be that Fuse wanted her to know how to put on makeup.
Helga was staring at Samojirou and me as if we were the lowest things in the world. I remembered too late that the Northerners seemed to have some sort of stupid prejudice against homosexuality. She was going to have to learn to get over it, if she stayed here, though I was quite willing to ship her back to that farm after Tamazusa regained her kuni.
"You wear women's clothing!” Helga exclaimed, horrified. “That is unnatural! No wonder you were able to beat Egil in a fight, you did use witchcraft. You are a shaman!"
"Cultural prejudice,” I told Samojirou before he did anything to her because she was insulting the two of us, even if she didn't know it. “And I was lucky that the Northmen were lazy in their training methods."
"That they are idiots is known to me,” Samojirou said with a smile. “That you had been in a fight was not. I am glad that you were victorious.” He turned to Fuse. “Do you think that Helga would learn something useful here this morning, like manners?” he asked. “Or are you hoping that the rumors would name her as your husband's oiran and that Sakura-chan is training her?"
"Samojirou-sama, you are a very bad man to even think such a thing!” Fuse exclaimed. But she was laughing too. Helga didn't get the joke, because she was looking back and forth at the two of them in confusion.
"Or do you just need a decent maid?” I asked cattily, falling into the women's dialect easily. “From what I've seen, she'll need a lot of training to be even adequate for that. And I doubt that she would even be able to walk the streets of Yoshiwara, never mind work there as an oiran."
"For shame, Sakura-chan,” Fuse scolded me. “A proper person doesn't say such things.” She paused. “Nor should you speak a language that a person doesn't understand in front of them."
"I am sorry, Mother,” I told her in English, bowing to her. It had been petty, but there was something about Helga that made me want to act like I was ten and be a brat around her.
"She is your mother?” Helga asked. To her credit, she tried to sound polite about it.
"In a manner of speaking,” I told her. “Fuse-hime is a very great lady, and her husband Yatsufusa-sama is a great lord."
"That is the name of her dog,” Helga stated, her tone indicating she thought I was a fool for calling a dog a lord.
"He is her husband,” Samojirou said coolly. “And it will be well-advised to keep a civil tongue in your head if you don't want to lose it. Your head, not your tongue."
She looked at him, horrified before she turned to stare at Fuse. “That is—"
"This is the Dreamlands,” Fuse told her flatly, not letting her finish what she wanted to say. “You know that one's appearance here is just an illusion."
"While this is not Valhalla or Asgard, I don't think that such a thing is possible,” Helga protested. “What you talk of seems more to be in the realm of the Trickster than anything good."
"It is part of a curse,” Samojirou said simply, apparently knowing whom she was talking about. “One that I... I was the one that was the cause of it. It is because of my actions that such a thing came about."
"You act as if my father has nothing to do with it,” Fuse said tartly.
Helga looked uneasy, because they were speaking of things she would never understand. There was a knock on the door, and then it slid open. Tamazusa walked in with a couple of the maids carrying clothing and a make-up box trailing behind her.
"I know that you are an excellent maid,” Tamazusa teased, her eyes widening a little at
the bruises on my neck and chest. She knew love bites when she saw them, even if she wasn't going to be rude enough to comment on them. It helped that Samojirou's chest had them too. “But I think that you are going to need help dressing this morning, Sakura-chan. I fear that you must go back to acting the part of a proper young lady again."
I nodded, feeling odd that Yukiko wasn't there to dress me. “I know that, Tamazusa-sama,” I said with a laugh. “It could be worse. You might need me as your maid."
"She chose to stay behind,” Samojirou said softly, apparently sensing what I was feeling. “She cannot wander far from her garden in any case."
"She's stuck there?” I asked, trying not to sound too upset. What if something happened to the shoen?
"A kashin has a difficult time leaving her flower,” Tamazusa said. “It is their nature."
"If something happens to your shoen and its gardens, then they will all die?” I asked her softly, not wanting to know that answer but having to ask the question.
A lot of the maids were flower spirits, along with all of the gardeners. The cooks and other servants were different spirits, either kodama, tree spirits, or some other type of shape-shifter. I had worried about them, but now I realized they were in a lot more danger than I had assumed. Tamazusa just nodded, and thankfully Samojirou changed the topic of conversation.
"I don't think Sakura-chan would mind if I stayed here,” Samojirou shared with a sly smile. “I usually see the process from the other end, when I am undressing him."
The maids all giggled while I blushed, and Tamazusa just shook her head with a smile. Everyone had figured out by now that he and I were involved. “I knew that you'd say that."
"I don't think that this is going to be as complicated as it usually is either,” Fuse commented. “We aren't going to kabuki or an ikebana exhibit."
"Flower arranging,” I told Helga before she could ask.
"Tholf was right. You Southerners are decadent,” Helga muttered. She clearly wasn't comfortable with the concept of cross-dressing. I wondered if that was part of the reason she had given Tamazusa and McGann such a difficult time, since they had been wearing what could be considered men's clothing. Or it could be that she was just a bitch. I was leaning toward the bitch theory myself.
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