looking for what i remember
Mar. 25th, 2019 01:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seleniasTitle: looking for what i remember
Fandom: Natsume Yuujinchou
Characters/pairing: Natori/Matoba
Rating: all audiences
Word Count: 943
Heian era AU. Kitsune!Natori infiltrates the Matoba clan and elopes with its heir to be. Part of a series? 1/? -- Might be writing vignettes for this instead, as it's a complex idea that I just don't have the energy to explore in a full-fledged multi-chapter style. We'll see.
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From the corner of his eye he saw it: one tail, two, four, seven, nine --
The youkai's breath warmed his neck. Seiji didn’t dare to breathe, those teeth grazed his skin with a threat. His robes were too heavy for him to do much but shift, and every movement only made him more aware of his own failure. He wished he’d asked the servant to bring him his yukata like he’d thought of that morning, instead of these damning, hindering layers.
The weight along his back made him fold, made the robe rise away from the skin along his neck. His palms found purchase on the floor, blunt nails sinking into the tatami mats.
“I’ve caught you at a bad time,” the kitsune murmured.
“I don’t believe,” Seiji whispered back, “that I have any rice to offer you.”
“No? Well, breathe easy. I’m not here for that.”
Seiji moved his head, tried to recall which robe had which knife.
“You had something specific in mind.”
“More of a someone, sorry to say.”
Seiji laughed, unsteady. “What can I offer you? I have brothers, sisters, many cousins -- many of which are candidates as heirs.”
“Interestingly, it’s your name I hear the most. Seiji.”
“Listening to gossip, are we?”
The kitsune grinned. “Your kind are very good at it.”
Seiji inclined his head, avoided those hungry eyes. “Whatever you seek, I won’t give it.”
“You haven’t even heard my terms. It’s nothing bad.”
Kitsune who’d severed faces from skulls during the night, wore their master’s skins the next morning. The stuff he’d heard but hadn’t seen, had only felt the edges of. Nanase, who kept him under her arm, taught him about paper, told him what his mother did to keep them alive, what his father would become in due time.
Seems rather cruel to make him heir, doesn’t it? He knows what’s coming for him.
You’re cunning, Nanase had said. You’ll find a way to survive.
The kitsune leaned away from him, settled against the wall below the window, hair catching gold in the lamp light. He wore a plain kimono with a blue obi, not a stain to be seen. Those red eyes regarded him with a fervor that sank into his bones. The servants had remembered to refill the lamp, right? It had been very low that morning when he’d woken before sunrise, the flame barely illuminated his desk, he’d stayed up too late reading again --
“You said --” Seiji licked his lips, sat back on his heels, fabric pinching the back of his knees, “something about terms.”
“Yes. Nothing unpleasant.”
“So. Describe them.”
“You’ll die if you stay here, so you should come with me.”
“In fifty years, perhaps.”
The kitsune frowned. “No, sooner. You won’t make it alone.”
The kitsune frowned sternly at him. “You don’t have any shiki?”
Seiji stood, stepped back. “The Matoba clan has plenty--”
The kitsune stepped forward. “No, you, personally--”
“Not yet.”
“I’ll make this simple. My name -- it’s Natori.”
Seiji narrowed his eyes. “Why would you--”
“I’m not your enemy.”
“This is self-serving. I’m not blind.”
The kitsune grinned. The mouth stretched too wide, the teeth were too white, the robes too clean --
The light slanted through the window into the tree just beyond. Seiji watched Natori shrink in on himself, fur shiny and gold. He disappeared into the dark, soundless as he had appeared.
Will you come with me?
Seiji stood at the window for a long time. He wasn’t immune to charms, he knew. This felt different though, like an allegiance --
He poured cold tea from a pitcher into a cup and drank, hands trembling only slightly. He willed them still.
It was just a spell. Just a spell, and it too would pass.
Seiji lied awake and traced the beams in the rafters with a finger, imagined the knots in the wood to look like the narrowed eyes of a fox.
In the morning, Nanase waited for him outside the door. She turned down the hall first.
At this distance, at this angle, Seiji could see the edge of the scar along the back of her neck, where her robes just concealed them. He had never forgotten that day. When the arrow had bolted from their enemy’s bow and she’d promised that she’d never leave his side, his extra hand in the face of all the dangers that already existed in their world. That was a vow. He could trust her.
He also remembered, less clearly, so very long ago when his cousin took him to the river and held his head under the water -- a boy on the shore with golden hair dragged him out. The next day though, a body had been pulled from the reeds, hair the color of tarnished brass --
Strange.
Nanase turned to look at him. “You’re very quiet this morning.”
“I don’t always need to talk, do I?”
“No. Your father will notice too though.”
Seiji grinned. “Something tried to come through the window last night. Were you aware?”
Her hands stilled. “It never tripped the wards.”
“No,” Seiji said. He helped himself to another bowl of rice. “I may have been dreaming. Too much news lately, I think.”
“I’ll look into it. It could be a larger issue we’ve overlooked.”
Seiji looked at her, the silver curling the edges of her hair, the stern line of her mouth.
So very long ago: I’ll keep you alive, she’d said.
He inclined his head, wondered what sort of shiki a kitsune would make. If this was a bigger problem, he might start with the source.
Fandom: Natsume Yuujinchou
Characters/pairing: Natori/Matoba
Rating: all audiences
Word Count: 943
Heian era AU. Kitsune!Natori infiltrates the Matoba clan and elopes with its heir to be. Part of a series? 1/? -- Might be writing vignettes for this instead, as it's a complex idea that I just don't have the energy to explore in a full-fledged multi-chapter style. We'll see.
-
-
From the corner of his eye he saw it: one tail, two, four, seven, nine --
The youkai's breath warmed his neck. Seiji didn’t dare to breathe, those teeth grazed his skin with a threat. His robes were too heavy for him to do much but shift, and every movement only made him more aware of his own failure. He wished he’d asked the servant to bring him his yukata like he’d thought of that morning, instead of these damning, hindering layers.
The weight along his back made him fold, made the robe rise away from the skin along his neck. His palms found purchase on the floor, blunt nails sinking into the tatami mats.
“I’ve caught you at a bad time,” the kitsune murmured.
“I don’t believe,” Seiji whispered back, “that I have any rice to offer you.”
“No? Well, breathe easy. I’m not here for that.”
Seiji moved his head, tried to recall which robe had which knife.
“You had something specific in mind.”
“More of a someone, sorry to say.”
Seiji laughed, unsteady. “What can I offer you? I have brothers, sisters, many cousins -- many of which are candidates as heirs.”
“Interestingly, it’s your name I hear the most. Seiji.”
“Listening to gossip, are we?”
The kitsune grinned. “Your kind are very good at it.”
Seiji inclined his head, avoided those hungry eyes. “Whatever you seek, I won’t give it.”
“You haven’t even heard my terms. It’s nothing bad.”
Kitsune who’d severed faces from skulls during the night, wore their master’s skins the next morning. The stuff he’d heard but hadn’t seen, had only felt the edges of. Nanase, who kept him under her arm, taught him about paper, told him what his mother did to keep them alive, what his father would become in due time.
Seems rather cruel to make him heir, doesn’t it? He knows what’s coming for him.
You’re cunning, Nanase had said. You’ll find a way to survive.
The kitsune leaned away from him, settled against the wall below the window, hair catching gold in the lamp light. He wore a plain kimono with a blue obi, not a stain to be seen. Those red eyes regarded him with a fervor that sank into his bones. The servants had remembered to refill the lamp, right? It had been very low that morning when he’d woken before sunrise, the flame barely illuminated his desk, he’d stayed up too late reading again --
“You said --” Seiji licked his lips, sat back on his heels, fabric pinching the back of his knees, “something about terms.”
“Yes. Nothing unpleasant.”
“So. Describe them.”
“You’ll die if you stay here, so you should come with me.”
“In fifty years, perhaps.”
The kitsune frowned. “No, sooner. You won’t make it alone.”
The kitsune frowned sternly at him. “You don’t have any shiki?”
Seiji stood, stepped back. “The Matoba clan has plenty--”
The kitsune stepped forward. “No, you, personally--”
“Not yet.”
“I’ll make this simple. My name -- it’s Natori.”
Seiji narrowed his eyes. “Why would you--”
“I’m not your enemy.”
“This is self-serving. I’m not blind.”
The kitsune grinned. The mouth stretched too wide, the teeth were too white, the robes too clean --
The light slanted through the window into the tree just beyond. Seiji watched Natori shrink in on himself, fur shiny and gold. He disappeared into the dark, soundless as he had appeared.
Will you come with me?
Seiji stood at the window for a long time. He wasn’t immune to charms, he knew. This felt different though, like an allegiance --
He poured cold tea from a pitcher into a cup and drank, hands trembling only slightly. He willed them still.
It was just a spell. Just a spell, and it too would pass.
Seiji lied awake and traced the beams in the rafters with a finger, imagined the knots in the wood to look like the narrowed eyes of a fox.
In the morning, Nanase waited for him outside the door. She turned down the hall first.
At this distance, at this angle, Seiji could see the edge of the scar along the back of her neck, where her robes just concealed them. He had never forgotten that day. When the arrow had bolted from their enemy’s bow and she’d promised that she’d never leave his side, his extra hand in the face of all the dangers that already existed in their world. That was a vow. He could trust her.
He also remembered, less clearly, so very long ago when his cousin took him to the river and held his head under the water -- a boy on the shore with golden hair dragged him out. The next day though, a body had been pulled from the reeds, hair the color of tarnished brass --
Strange.
Nanase turned to look at him. “You’re very quiet this morning.”
“I don’t always need to talk, do I?”
“No. Your father will notice too though.”
Seiji grinned. “Something tried to come through the window last night. Were you aware?”
Her hands stilled. “It never tripped the wards.”
“No,” Seiji said. He helped himself to another bowl of rice. “I may have been dreaming. Too much news lately, I think.”
“I’ll look into it. It could be a larger issue we’ve overlooked.”
Seiji looked at her, the silver curling the edges of her hair, the stern line of her mouth.
So very long ago: I’ll keep you alive, she’d said.
He inclined his head, wondered what sort of shiki a kitsune would make. If this was a bigger problem, he might start with the source.
