Unfortunately, squeezing ten months of story time into 30kb of story space proved inherently difficult and Chapter 8 reached the point where I felt it needed to be divided into two sections. Here is Part 8a. Draft version. C&C is most welcome. Disclaimer: Ranma 1/2 is the property of Rumiko Takahashi and her publishers. I am merely using the characters for the purpose of profit-free entertainment and make no claim on them. The following people have been kind enough to create a page to host my fanfics, so please take a look: Vincent Seifert: http://www.csus.edu/indiv/s/seifertv/kagami/ Yoshiro_san: http://members.xoom.com/Yoshiro_san/mother/ David Pascal: http://www.davidpascal.com/smj/ You can contact me at: kagami@jeack.com.au --- "Very nice," Shukumaru murmured to her dining companion. He did not answer, having been silent for much of the evening. But he made for a good listener, as were all the dead. The tender portion of the hiker was still fresh and slightly salty. There was little fat, typical in the Japanese, and years of constant exercise in the mountains had firmed the flesh nicely. Shukumaru cracked the thighbone and sucked out the rich marrow with relish. She tossed the hollow remains to join the pile of loose broken bones behind her. Rashomon, deep in the Hiei Mountains, was a small village and home to a minor legend: the infamous Demon of Rashomon. That particular demon had been slain during the Muromachi Period by a valiant samurai, but the region retained its affinity for attracting demons of note. Rashomon was the current domain of a noble demoness from a powerful and influential bloodline - the Lady Ishiki, Shukumaru's mother. Lady Ishiki maintained a moderately-sized villa near the Falls of Rashomon and kept it staffed with a collection of discreet and able demon servitors. The forest-covered slopes formed a magnificent barrier against casual intruders. The occasional solitary wanderer or hiker who entered the wilds conveniently vanished without a causing a great deal of uproar. Apart from their usefulness as a hunting preserve, the high forested mountains were also an ideal location for training. But her mother loved Rashomon primarily because of the excellent food. --- An Awakening of Demons A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic By Kagami Chapter 8a: Shallow Lives --- "Dokkasou!" A tree, vast and ancient, fell victim to Shukumaru's poison claw attack. The trunk warped and smoked as she dug her right claw deep into its wooden heart. She tensed and snarled fiercely, ripping her hand from the smoking hole and tearing out a large chunk of decaying woodpulp. The tree shuddered as if in pain, creaking and groaning hideously, before finally giving way and collapsing in a thundering fall of leaves, branches, and flying wood chips. She stared at the fallen trunk. Dead, she thought with satisfaction, just as her enemies would be. Who, then, were her enemies? Nearby clapping aroused Shukumaru from her contemplation of the wooden corpse. She turned and bowed toward her mother. "Well done, Daughter," Lady Ishiki said. "It was entirely due to your teaching, Mother," Shukumaru replied. "The Toxic Flower Claw is a powerful means of attack." "It is only as powerful as the venom in your heart, and for that, I congratulate you." The Lady Ishiki was a cat demon of great power and her marriage to Yami-no-Tsume had sealed a blood alliance between the Eastern Throne and these borderlands between East and West. She had understood perfectly what an arranged marriage entailed. Once each season, she traveled to Tokyo and conjoined with her husband in the hopes of producing male offspring: a ritual that had resulted in Shukumaru. "My thanks then, Mother." "So, Shukumaru, it has been a week since you arrived at Rashomon. What are your plans?" She was gracefully direct, yet bloodlust shone in gray eyes that pierced the morning gloom. At a banquet given to honour the Western ambassador, a minor demon noble had once described Lady Ishiki as cordially vicious; a description that had summed up her personality rather well, actually, but since he had the misfortune to be drunk at the time and had spoken far too loudly, he had lived just long enough to realize how apt a portrayal it had been. "I suppose I must return to Tokyo. Father has commanded it." Shukumaru wrapped all her fury and frustration into her words. She frowned slightly, hearing the edge in her voice, and slid another block into the wall around the sea of stored anger. "Mother, why did you and Father name me so? He barely sees me as little more than a bargaining chip, to be traded away for concessions. Why name me as 'Perfect Destiny'?" Lady Ishiki seemed reluctant to answer her query, the first time that Shukumaru had ever seen her mother hesitant. Finally, her mother shook her head regretfully and said, "It was not my decision. Your father chose your name when you were merely a curve here." She touched her lower abdomen. "He expected a son, you see." "I do see, Mother." It shouldn't have mattered to her, but Shukumaru felt her very blood boil at the latest wound tearing her spirit. Acidic venom dripped from her hand to fall hissing on the soil. Calm, she needed to keep calm. The blocks in her mind froze as she unleashed an icy, howling wind from deep within. Her face smoothed into a mask of cultivated serenity. "Shukumaru, I--" Lady Ishiki broke off and frowned slightly, reaching out with her senses into the surrounding wild. Shukumaru also expanded her perception, and relaxed as she recognized the hidden signature. "Jakuten, reveal yourself," Shukumaru commanded. Her personal servitor appeared with a pop of displaced air. "Your pardon, Shukumaru-sama, I did not wish to disturb your conversation with your mother." He turned around and bowed deeply to the ruler of Rashomon. "Ishiki- sama, pardon my intrusion." Lady Ishiki merely nodded and did not deign to further respond to one so far beneath her on the hierarchy of demons. She adjusted her kimono and contrived to look bored and uninterested. Shukumaru glanced at her servitor. "Did you bring it?" "Yes, Mistress," Jakuten responded. "The story is on the fifteenth page, Shukumaru-sama." He presented her with a copy of Asahi Shinbun. Shukumaru unfolded the Tokyo morning newspaper and read the small article therein: 'High School Student Dies in Gas Explosion. 'Hikaru Gosunkugi, aged eighteen, perished last night after an explosion in his apartment. The resultant fire was kept confined by the quick actions of the Aoyama Fire Department, and no other residents of the apartment complex were injured. The high school student was believed to have returned from the wedding of his older brother that very night. His family was devastated by his sudden loss and remains in seclusion. Fire officials and police suspect a gas leak may have been the cause of the explosion. He was respected by his peers and teachers as an excellent student.' So, that was Hikaru's life, summed up in a single paragraph, Shukumaru thought. "What other news, Jakuten?" "There is other news, Shukumaru-sama, but perhaps... perhaps it would be better for you to see it for yourself," Jakuten added nervously. Shukumaru frowned. Jakuten never vacillated in her presence; he knew how unwise that could be. She could sense the fear seeping from him like a quivering yellow fog. Droplets of sweat beaded on his forehead and his hands twitched uncontrollably. What news could be so fearsome that Jakuten would risk her wrath rather than deliver it to her? Her final spoken words of the morning were formally addressed to Lady Ishiki. "Mother, I believe I shall obey Yami-no-Tsume's command and return to Tokyo." --- "Haven't you heard?" the horse-headed oni asked. Guard duty, especially at this side entrance to the apartment complex headquarters of the Demon Lord of the East, was unremittingly boring. Nothing seemed likely to relieve the tedium of the night and the demon sought refuge in the latest gossip. "Hush yourself, idiot!" his bull-headed companion hissed urgently. "Of course I have; everyone knows about it. But it's not something you want to be talking about so loudly." "Bah! What do I care? As if Yami-no-Tsume is ever around to overhear us these days? Or rather Ansou, as he's calling himself now. He can screw that little piece of fluff every which way he wants, just so long as it keeps him out of my mane." The oni chuckled at his own crude humour. "In fact, the Ice Bitch herself will be royally pissed off at the news. I'd love to see the sparks fly when she gets ba-- Urk!" A powerful yet perfectly dainty claw clamped down on his thick throat, cutting off both his words and air. "Indeed, so why don't you tell me yourself?" Shukumaru asked in a voice that could have grated stone. "Shukumaru-sama!" gasped the bull ogre. "Please, we meant n... no... nothing. It was j... just talk," he stammered out, blanching a fearful white. The horse-headed demon gurgled his frantic agreement. "So you both know the story?" At their hasty nods, she murmured, "Good. Then there's no need for two of you, is there?" With a casual move, Shukumaru ripped out the throat of the horse ogre she was holding. Blood gushed out in a frothing stream of crimson, showering his terrified companion in gore. The corpse slumped to the ground. "Now then," she said, licking at her red-stained hand, "Why don't you begin?" "Y... Yes, Shukumaru-sama," the surviving oni quavered, dropping to all fours and performing a servile obeisance. Blood droplets fell from his quivering body to join the spreading pool on the floor. "I've heard it said that your noble father is seeing someone at the moment. She takes up all of his spare time and more besides. Yami-no-Tsume-sama has hardly been around for the past four days." "I see." Shukumaru laid a gentle hand on the demon's bowed head and watched him crouch even lower. "And what is so unusual about this? Even my mother knows of Father's infidelities. Why is this news of such concern? Why is my own personal servitor afraid of telling me?" "Shukumaru-sama, please... the woman... she is a mortal human!" The bull ogre winced as he felt sharp claws dig into the flesh on top of his head. Trickles of blood welled from the wounds to add to the gore covering him. "Shu... Shukumaru-sama!" he cried out in panic, pleading for his survival. The unrelenting pressure suddenly disappeared and he sagged in welcome relief. It was long seconds before he mustered the courage to lift his head once again and look around. By then, Shukumaru had already vanished. --- "Greetings, Raiha," Shukumaru whispered, watching the pale blue wolf stiffen on his cushion next to the Eastern Throne. This early in the morning, the audience room was empty but for Raiha and a pair of kyubi-kitsune, guardians of the court. It made for a perfect setting to dredge for information. "Shukumaru, it is good to see your return." Raiha nodded his lupine head in careful welcome. The comment seemed sincere enough to Shukumaru, but then the demonwolf had always liked her since the early years of her childhood. As a child, she had alternated every six months between Tokyo and Rashomon, and when she had come to the city, it had been Raiha who kept her company. Her father had never seen the need to involve himself with raising a mere daughter, and his presence had been lacking for the better part of her three decades of existence: until now. "Where is my father? I would have him know I have arrived in accordance to his command." She kept her voice steady, betraying no interest in his whereabouts, but it was a difficult struggle. Ice, she reminded herself, was the cornerstone of her new existence. "Ah, you have just missed him then. He has left to pay a visit to.... Well, let us simply say, a private visit, if you will." Raiha looked momentarily uncomfortable, a brief flash of vulpine distaste showing in his cerulean eyes. "Oh? Some new foible of his?" Her tone was innocence itself, hiding anger beneath a veneer of casual interest. Raiha shrugged, showing calculated unconcern. "A matter of little importance. He will return later; you may present yourself to him then." The Thunderbeast did not seem inclined to be forthcoming. It was time for a direct attack. "Come, Raiha, you hardly need to dissemble with me. Why not simply tell me about his latest mistress? You know I'll learn it from another source anyway. This way we shall both save time and demon lives," Shukumaru said, keeping a light smile fixed in place. "Now, where is he?" "You are your father's daughter," Raiha said at last, reluctantly. A note of regret tinged his voice, and Shukumaru was left unsure whether he meant it as compliment, insult or warning. "Very well, then. You may find him in Nerima." --- The pale light of dawn was shading into the brighter glow of late morning when Shukumaru came to a rest on the rooftop of the house facing her intended destination. Her father's trail had led to this location; all of her senses confirmed it. She crouched down and began to weave a ward to conceal her presence from both ordinary sight and her father. It would never fully prevent the Demon Lord from detecting her, but he might be distracted enough not to notice. Her shield was barely up when the front door opened. The young woman who appeared was fairly attractive, Shukumaru acknowledged; just out of her teenage years. She had pearly- white skin, distinctive features, and long black hair that curled ever so slightly. Still, those alone would hardly have attracted her father. Only one thing would draw him so, and Shukumaru remembered the overheard conversation between him and the Old Woman. A son, that was what drew him. The woman was laughing with warm amusement and delight at something her father said as he followed her out from the house. "Ansou-san, I must thank you again for what you accomplished on my behalf with the city council. Without your help, I would never have known what to do. Why my house might have been lost to those greedy contractors." She flashed a bright smile at the man standing next to her. "It would have torn my heart to see my family home torn down for apartments. I am in your debt." "Please, there's no need for further thanks, Saotome-san. It was my pleasure to help you out." Yami-no-Tsume returned the woman's smile, looking diabolically handsome in his human guise. "But it would make me extremely happy if you were to accept my invitation to lunch." Shukumaru sighed at the obvious ploy; her father really did lack originality. Undoubtedly, he had employed one of the subsidiary companies to attempt a buy out of a heavily mortgaged property. Then he could appear and save the day, winning the woman's gratitude. How banal. "Well.... All right, but you must let it be my treat, Ansou-san." Ansou smiled cheerfully. "Never let it be said that I am not a modern man. It is a deal, Saotome-san." "And please, call me Nodoka." "Nodoka-san." Ansou made a caress of her name. "My name is Makizoku. But call me Maki, all my friends do so." Shukumaru tried not to feel sickened but failed. Morbid humour and distaste turned her mind liquid, until she could almost see the shimmering pulse of anger that threaten to sweep over her at this mockery of her pain. What made it worse was that her father seemed entirely sincere, smitten no doubt by the prospect of finally acquiring a son - even a half-breed one. A shout distracted her from brooding. "Nodoka-chan! I'm here! Let's go on our date!" It came from a young man who pelted up the street and skidded to a halt before Nodoka and Ansou. Thick black hair loosely flowed over faintly chubby features. His body was slightly heavy-set, with the strong muscles of a body-builder or a martial artist, though still a little pudgy from teenage fat. Shukumaru straightened her posture with some interest: he looked fairly appetizing. "But who's this old guy, No-chan?" the young man asked, cheerfully rude. He pointed a finger at Ansou. Nodoka looked somewhat torn between humour and annoyance. She smiled faintly and politely introduced the two men. "Makizoku Ansou, meet Genma Moroboshi." "Charmed," Ansou said tightly, clearly nettled by the 'old guy' comment. "Hey there," replied Genma with a casual nod. "So let's go, No-chan." "Go where? I don't remember anything about a date, Genchan." Nodoka looked confused and somewhat worried. "What?! But I was sure I told you.... Lessee, came home from practice, had dinner, talked to Soun, talked to Ataru, went to bed-- Ooops. Ow!" Genma clutched his head where Nodoka had clouted him. He rubbed at the sore spot and contrived a dejected expression. "Genma, you idiot! How am I suppose to know if you don't bother to call?" Nodoka frowned with obvious exasperation. "Well, I can't go with you today. This kind gentleman has just asked me out for lunch and I agreed." "Oh," Genma said forlornly. His eyes narrowed with the sudden, belated realization that before him was another of Nodoka's many suitors. He gave Ansou a quick once-over, assessing his new rival closely and noticing the fine quality clothes that oozed evident wealth. "I see." Nodoka sighed. "We'll go out tomorrow, Genchan." "Really? You promise?" At her brief nod, he threw up his hands and shouted, "All right! And this time, No-chan, I promise you I'll see what colour they are! Tomorrow then!" Genma flashed a winning smile and raced off, waving cheerily. "Idiot! Better not let me catch you chasing other girls!" Nodoka shouted after him, an embarrassed flush staining her cheeks. She did not seem particularly displeased though. "Hah! No chance of that!" Genma yelled back, before disappearing around the corner. "Who was that?" Ansou asked with a note of curiosity in his voice. "A boyfriend?" "Genchan's a good friend of mine. We've known each other for years, since childhood. I guess you could call him a boyfriend," Nodoka replied, sounding a bit uncertain. "Anyway, shall we go, Maki-san?" "Of course, Nodoka-san. Let us be off then." He held out his hand courteously, and she gently took hold of it, cheeks still pink-tinged and heightening her beauty. Ansou drank in the sight and smiled broadly. They headed down the street, walking hand-in-hand and step-in-step, and it was all Shukumaru could do to avoid screaming out her fury at their obvious happiness. Shukumaru moved to followed them, but then she gasped, one hand pressing against her temples and the other sinking to the roof in partial support, as sudden pain sank its claws deep into her mind. Deep in her mind, she had built a fine structure of ice surrounding all the gathered grief and pain and rage and hate. She had fed the darkness every single incident and lovingly watched it grow, as she would a child. It was a temple, an altar to the loss of Hikaru, that his memory might never be forgotten. And it was slowly cracking. She had made it the wellspring of her new power, drawing from the ice the heated venom necessary to fuel the Toxic Flower Claw. But now her father's latest betrayal, his obvious contempt for her, threatened to overwhelm the carefully crafted blocks of crystalline ice. No daughter of mine shall soil herself so.... Father, you damned hypocrite! Rage held the key to the temple, yet it worked both ways. The ice blocks melted in the furious flare of anger, and black hate leaked out to touch her. She gritted her teeth and fought to restrain the leakage, to save the power she had accumulated. It was needed, if she was to realize her vision; she could not afford to waste it and so she battled, walling in the old temple with new stones. Bit by bit, she struggled to retrieve her sanity, and finally, she locked the last block in place. It was strong, her new bastion: clear walls around the darkness, yet it would not contain her wrath forever. Shukumaru pulled her right hand from where it had sunk into the roof of the house during her mental battle. The resultant hole hissed and spluttered as acid and poison ate into the ceramic tiling. She contemplated the rising wisps of smoke and knew she had little time left in which to seize her destiny. Her father had wasted his opportunity and heritage, but she would not do the same. Shukumaru pressed her cheek against the sun-warmed tiles and closed her eyes. Shall I permit you your happiness, Father? When you stole mine? No.... She would have vengeance. --- "In all mortal men, there exists both beauty and hatred," the Old Woman intoned as Shukumaru slid into the seat before her table. A unfurled scroll lay upon the table, held down at each corner by a bleached-white skull, a blackened iron knife, a bundle of blood-red candles, and a dusty leather-bound tome. "Whose writings are those?" Shukumaru asked civilly. "The compiled sayings of a minor village priestess in the Muromachi Period. She makes insightful comments, though of limited scope. And what may I do for you today, Shukumaru- sama?" "Why, Obaba, did you recommend this mortal woman - this human! - to my father?" she began. "Because that is what the portents showed, Shukumaru-sama. For three days I laboured on the rituals, recasting the divinations and hoping for more favourable results. But they never altered in any way: this woman is the one who will give Yami-no-Tsume a son." "A half-human son!" Shukumaru hissed. "What good will he be?" "That is beyond my concern... and yours," the Old Woman pointed out. "Only Yami-no-Tsume may question his own path." "Tell me, Obaba. Did you betray me to my father?" Shukumaru did not need to refer to her last meeting with the Old Woman to emphasize her point. It was clear enough. "Not I, Shukumaru-sama. Not I. Your noble father discovered it through another source," the Old Woman said calmly. She continued to peer at the unrolled parchment through a yellow crystal lens, and spoke without raising her head. "I hear that Masakado's cardinal servant was closeted with Yami-no-Tsume-sama a while back." "Heizen-To! Yes!" Shukumaru hissed, eyes glittering. She took a moment to calm down. "And what say you of our alliance with the South, Obaba?" "Why should I have an opinion, Shukumaru-sama? I'm merely an unimportant servant of the Eastern Throne." The Old Woman continued to scan the old pictograms on the scroll, evidently finding the picture-writing fascinating. "Have you not thought about it? How my father will blithely sign over his throne to that purple slug while hoping a half-human son will be able to secure his future?" Shukumaru spoke evenly, yet her voice could not hide the faintest note of outrage that soaked through the icy calm. "I mean to change things before they become unalterable, and so I require your support." "Shukumaru-sama, shall I tell you a parable?" the Old Woman asked, finally looking up to meet her gaze with half- lidded eyes. Shukumaru shrugged her disinterest, but nevertheless waved her acquiescence, bringing a gap-toothed smile to the ancient crone's face. "Well then, I call it 'The King of Beauty': "Once upon a time, there lived a young king in a faraway land. The king was truly beautiful, fair of feature and strong of limb. Many said no other, man or woman, could compare and called him the fairest in all the land. His parents, too, made much over him as he grew and indulged him. When the king came to the throne, unexpectedly, and at a youthful age, he immediately sought a bride to rule by his side. He had only one condition: his queen should surpass his beauty. "Any who came forth and were judged to have failed in comparison swiftly lost their lives to the headman's axe. Yet the chance to become a queen drew many, and loud were the wails of anguish as the prettiest ladies in the kingdom and afar had the flame of their lives brutally snuffed out. As the headman's axe grew covered in gore, the king became restless and bored: it seemed none could compare to him. "One day, a wanderer came to the court of the king and saw the execution of six radiant young girls. When he received word of the bridal challenge, he begged leave to speak to the king. 'Oh, Great and Beautiful King,' he said, 'I have journeyed far in my day and beheld many wonders in my travels. If you seek a bride without compare, then know that only the Princess of the Mountain is as fair of face as your majesty.' "Hearing this, the king became enchanted and joyous. A great expedition was assembled and dispatched toward the Land of the Mountain with the king at the forefront: no other would see his bride-to-be beforehand. At last they came to the Mountain and many in the royal party despaired for the peak was a pinnacle that pierced the very heavens. "'It cannot be done, your majesty!' they cried, seeing the steep and ice-covered slopes. But the king was not deterred. Desire flamed within his heart and he would conquer the Mountain to gain his prize. Six men were called forth to lead the king: the most skilled of mountaineers with the agility of wild goats. Up they went, and the king followed. "The climb was a journey into the coldest hell. Rime covered every exposed surface, and frost and ice dealt cold deaths in their fashion. One by one, the six men fell, slipping to their doom below, until only the king was left. Still, he pressed on, for the flames of his soul kept him alive and aware. Finally, he breached the stinging mists and reached the peak of the Mountain. "Staggering, half-dead, the king stumbled toward the small log cabin that sat upon the peak. The door opened as he hammered one frozen fist on the ice-coated wood. Eager eyes feasted on the figure before him, then he sagged against the door-frame in mute disbelief. Where was the coveted beauty of his Princess? She was ugly! Hideous and wretched, not even comparable to the many he had executed. "Turning away in sick despair, he caught his reflection in the smooth surface of the icy ground. A ruined face gazed back at him. Wind-scoured cheeks, a nose swollen and ruddy, cold blisters and scarring, frost-bitten lesions covered the horrific reflection. With a terrible cry, he clutched at his face to hide it from sight. What woman would now choose to become his queen? "He collapsed, sobbing, pride destroyed and much humbled. The king felt a soft touch and turned to see the questioning gaze of the Princess of the Mountain. She had truly beautiful eyes, he thought numbly, and burst into laughter. He clutched her hand to show he was not mocking her, only himself, and slowly, she smiled at his antics. And so the King of Beauty returned from the Mountain with his bride and lived happily ever after." The last spoken words fell into a deepening silence. The Old Woman bowed her head and pressed her hands together to signal the end of the tale. Shukumaru stirred restlessly, eyes hooded in thought. The faintest of frowns crossed her fine features. "Do I then take it that you will not support me, Obaba?" "I serve the Demon Lord of the East," the Old Woman replied obliquely, before adding, "Whoever that might be." Pragmatic, Shukumaru thought, but exactly what she had expected. She could rely on the Old Woman to not betray her until the outcome was clear. That state of near-neutrality was all she had hoped to achieve with this meeting, and Shukumaru was well satisfied as she rose to bid the crone farewell. The strange story she had indulged the Old Woman by listening faded swiftly from her memory. The Obaba nodded, hid a small sigh, and returned to the next line of her evening reading as Shukumaru exited the room. "The wisdom of parables will be lost upon the impatient." Now that was a pertinent truth. --- Her apartment was a bustle of light dusting and clattering broomsticks. Shukumaru smiled slightly as she observed the frenetic efforts of a half-dozen servant demons to reorder her rooms. Jakuten had returned to oversee her needs. That was excellent. "Jakuten, accompany me," she commanded. The small, goggle- eyed servitor snapped a few last orders to his staff and hurried in her direction. Shukumaru left with him in tow as she headed for the rooftop of the complex. It was quiet and unused, and she erected her wards, few would be able to perceive her presence, much less overhear their conversation; especially with Yami-no-Tsume still away. A gentle, late afternoon breeze gusted across the flat roof as Shukumaru stepped outside, followed by Jakuten. Her senses showed no other presence besides them, and she invoked the seal to cover them in silence and stealth. "You met with those I asked you to seek out then, Jakuten?" "All but one, Mistress, and I will reach him before tonight." "Good. Have they agreed to meet with me tonight?" "Yes, Shukumaru-sama. Most were eager and curious, sensing a change in the wind. Niwatori-sama offered the use of his ryokan and I conveyed the meeting place to the others. I also inspected the ryokan myself and uncovered no spies or hidden devices. Tonight, with your personal guard of oni in place, it will be as safe as any." "Well done, Jakuten." Shukumaru smiled at him, clearly surprising the diminutive servant. "In lieu of your service, I shall forgo your punishment for failing to relay the news of my dear father's newest slut." Her voice was cold and imbued with vicious loathing both toward her father and the human woman, but Jakuten was clearly gratified at his reprieve. She would have to impress the uncertain ones tonight, though most would welcome her overtures. It would be a small dinner, and by the end of the evening, their loyalties would be hers, and hers alone. No other outcome was permissible. "Jakuten, prepare my clothes for this evening. And hurry... the future awaits." --- They gathered in a private room at the ryokan owned by Lord Niwatori, a powerful demon inflicted with an unfortunate name. The hawk-headed oni lord was in his natural form tonight as were the other guests, and his powerful beak snapped up glistening red servings of raw flesh and desperately flopping, still living, silver-scaled fish. Niwatori was a proud demon who had overcome the derogatory comments made concerning his name - usually by killing those who commented - and achieved a glorious reputation for brutality and cunning. Obviously he chafed at his current rank and sought after greater power. He would be loyal until she ceased to reward him. Next to him was Hiwai Oushi, an ancient bull ogre. He had survived for nearly three hundred years, a notable achievement in a race not given to long life-spans. Shukumaru had saved his life once in an encounter with an oni sorceress, and Oushi was noted for three distinctive features: his brute strength, lustful nature, and absolute loyalty. She could trust him to follow her bidding and, despite the fact she felt like killing him herself every time his lewd eyes traveled over her body, his loyalty was too valuable to dispose of so cavalierly. On her left was Lord Honeshi, whom many called the Dancer of Bones. His piercing eyes, protruding from a gaunt face, were fixed on the chicken skeletons before him. Having consumed all the flesh from both of the fresh fowl, he was making them battle each other for amusement. Chicken bones cracked and snapped as they clashed in naked fury, and the sound was sweet to Shukumaru's ears. She hid a small smile, knowing the Bone Dancer was hers to command as long as she provided sufficient combat and bloodshed to suit his tastes. Muketsu the Fleshless sat beside Honeshi, and the two of them bore a close but superficial resemblance to each other. Muketsu was a gaki, a ghoulish vampire who hungered constantly for the flesh and blood of living beings. Since the presence of human victims at this dinner might arouse excessive concern, he sated his desires instead on live, squawking chickens, and tossed their remains to Honeshi. Shukumaru knew his hunger would only calm after feeding on the soul of a human, so he would need to hunt after this gathering. He was a powerful ally, strong and devoted. Like Oushi, she had preserved his existence - in his case, from a Devil Hunter - and, in return, he had bound himself to her spirit. Further down, four kitsune fed on small pigeons. One had a crow on his shoulder that cawed its laughter at the demise of his avian cousins. They were Shukumaru's lieutenants, commanding her horde of minor oni and directing the birth of more of the evil ogres. Nameless and unranked, for now, they sat with quiet enjoyment, welcoming the occasion to sit with demons of higher stature. Her plans would give them the chance to advance their rank or fall in battle, and that opportunity contented them well enough. On the opposite side of the table was a trio of spider demons. Brothers, one and all, they took their names and powers from the elements of nature. Hikumo commanded flame ghosts to his bidding, Mizukumo's fangs injected a deadly poison as virulent as the venom in her Toxic Flower Claw, and Chikumo invaded the dreams of the sleeping. All three had agreed to serve her for a chance of revenge against the hated South, where their fourth brother had perished. These few she had gathered to her banner, and more besides would flock around when she began her campaign. Father, you have overstepped your bounds and sown the seeds of your downfall. No Demon Lord can afford to appear distracted from the concerns of the Throne. After all, someone might just decide to steal it away from under your nose. It was time, and past time, to claim all that was rightfully hers. She raised her glass of wine high into the air and admired the sparkling red vintage that so resembled blood. "To change!" Shukumaru toasted. --- Author's Notes: 1) 'Ishiki' - means 'awareness' or 'consciousness'. 2) 'Muromachi Period' - the Warring States Period or Feudal Japan; setting for much of Inu-Yasha. 3) 'Asahi Shinbun' - literally 'morning sun newspaper'. 4) 'ryokan' - a Japanese inn. 5) 'Niwatori' - translates as 'chicken'. 6) 'Honeshi' - means 'bone death'. 7) 'Muketsu' - literally 'bloodless'; also has the implication of 'without blood or killing'. 8) 'Hikumo' - translates as 'fire spider'