Taking Moments

[High's .Valentine.]

Year 1947, Old Nippon

Nanako, bloody, bruised, and desperate, took the sword and raised it above her head, trusting her life and all her life long goal to the voice in her head that told her to bring the sword down on her right hand. The first try didn’t quite do it. She leaned over, forehead touching dust and clenched her teeth, biting back a scream of pain. Blood gushed forth from the wound just above her wrist. The young woman gripped the sword with slippery sweaty hands, afraid of letting go. They pounded on the decaying wooden door behind her. If she doesn’t hurry, they would overcome the momentary protection of this shrine. Brown eyes darted in panic from behind cracked and bent glasses at the sword in her hand and the other shorter katana at her side. Relinquish herself to the claws of these lowly devils? Never. Pushing herself back up with the uninjured arm, Nana whimpered, forcing her eyes to focus on the nearly severed arm, and took a hold of herself. All she needed to do was another powerful strike, and she would break right through the white marrow of her bone. The voice, deep and calming whispered and urged her on, promising her protection, power equal to that of the Gods, loyalty, and affection.

She didn’t close her eyes this time as the sword struck, cleaving her hand right off. It dropped to the ground, a very faint and uninteresting plop and remained there, despite Nana’s delirious wish to see it how well it would do if it were to move around on those lithe fingers. The strange musing of a dying woman. What followed was a burst of light and a gush of wind. The voice was calming, and he told her to sleep.

She obeyed.

Year 1, New Nippon

It took all but fifteen seconds for the destruction of Earth. Seven seconds for a goliath sized hole to open up over the blue planet. Three seconds for people to begin panicking, realizing they were about to be swallowed by an unpredicted black hole. Four seconds for the hole to suck up Earth, continent by continent, life by life. One second for the light to disappear.

Thousands of years of history were gone in fifteen unsuspecting seconds. All the way across the galaxy, a gruff mechanic spent fifteen seconds scratching at his chin and daydreaming about gummi ships.

Nonetheless, people, like mildew, were impossible to be rid of. Survivors and refugees. Some discovered new worlds to settle in, coping with the lack of technology, or too much. Some traveled, fascinated by this life that seemed so much like the comic book sold on their street corner. And some found Earth when slowly, but surely, the universe spat crumbs of chewed up worlds back out for old inhabitants to rediscover and reclaim.

One such individual was Shunsuke Nanako, a young woman with a selfish ambitious goal. It was the perfect opportunity to regain her family’s prestigious name. With a small following, Empress Nanako claimed the land as the New Nippon and restarted the counter to year one. Nicknamed Kami’s Hand after her strangely clawed right hand, Nanako lacked resources and land and people, but with her Last Breath, she rebuilt her piece of Earth to match roughly the Era of the Emperors and Samurais of Nippon. And this is where our story begins…

Kami’s Hand had never been much of a well-loved nickname for the woman. Sprawled on the tatami of her Western and Eastern mixed house, the young Empress rearranged her glasses again as she stared discontentedly at the tanned skin of her right arm. It had already been four years since she had foolishly lopped off her arm in the confusion. Even after four years, the grudge against her Tengu did not diminish. The confident power of his voice in her mind on that fateful day now sounded like the cooing of the demon. Everyone of New Nippon knows of the name Shunsuke and worshiped it as if it was a deity itself. Yet, the young woman found herself disappointed with her success. Alone, she should have done this alone. Or at least been strong enough to do most of the work. But it was because of her insistent, emotional shadow, that Nanako was where she is today. Because of this Kami’s Hand.

She flung it out of her sight, as if one would fling a displeasing object out of mind and out of sight. But the clawed hand remained attached to her hand, so big and awkward compared to her left hand, which was pale and dainty. It remained in her vision. Disgusted, Nana shoved the hand under her and faced the ceiling.

A small frown appeared on her face as she thought about the Tengu who had so faithfully served her all these years. Something has been going on lately. Call it…a woman’s instinct or something. Every time her birthday pasts, Shizore gets more and more fidgety, absent-minded, and just…stupid. She didn’t want to believe it, but since she turned twenty four, hints have been dropping left and right. The woman was not quite as thick headed as she was four years ago [she has still got to be one of the most annoyingly bull headed woman ever], but she didn’t want to give the benefit of the doubt. Never.

Getting rid of a Shadow wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to do though…

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[Akito]

His steps mirrored the wind, light and fleet - however, his presence in the night was a figure of stark white amidst black. The men who had invaded the abode of the Kami's Hand could not help but be taken back by his form, strolling down the hallway towards them. For a moment, they forgot their mission - the Lady Shunsuke had many enemies who vied for the power she so forcefully took. This had not been the first time black drab trespassers stole into her home, with intentions to steal her life as well. They had safely made it pass the incompetent palace guards and, as they were warned, a figure of white stood in their way. Warned, but unprepared. Despite his human form, he was clearly...something else. The man who now approached them, step by careful step, had only on himself a white kimono, a red Tengu mask and a pair of swords. No beating wings of steel or eyes that haunted men's souls - instead, his snow mane hair and refined features were a cause of alarm. Was this beautiful creature truly the feared Last Breath?

They drew their weapons. It seemed a pity to kill such a lovely inhuman creature, such a being that elicited mixed feelings of reproach and respect, but they had come here for a reason. Leaping forward almost without thinking, perhaps wanting to silence the man before he alerted anyone else, the intruders attacked.

Red. Indiscriminate, indistinguishable red. The man white as the pale moonlight walked on, leaving another to clean the mess.

It was true that after a while, one learned washing blood with more blood was not an effective method of sterilizing. This white demon in man's form, Shizore, was one of those depraved few who still didn't care. Of course, every twitch of his hand, every swing of his blade and every life that he took - it was all for her. Yet, it would be appalling beyond compare to lay the blame on her. She didn't bring down the sword. Shizore knew well what he was and he accepted it. If it was for her, he would be the most vile of devils. Too many times had she forced him to besmear, to mock and spit on his Bushido dignity. He had killed unarmed foes who stood in her way politically, he had murdered children so they would not grow up with vengeance in their hearts. She had sullied the white Tengu of the Last Breath with her dirty politics. Once a revered swordsman, he was now a feared murderer. Mockery beyond compare. Still, not once had she thanked him for it, or spoke with the smallest hint of gratitude. Even so, even so...Shizore loved her dearly.

Elegantly, Shizore knelt before the sliding door of Nanako's room. Disposing of the more recent would-be assassins was a necessary task and usually he would not have to report such a small mishap to his Lady. However, today he had come to her for another reason entirely. Tomorrow, she would receive yet another suitor and he feared, as he had many times before, that this next one would take her heart from his. True enough, the others were...less successful. Well, having all died under very mysterious and convenient circumstances for him. Nevertheless, there was always that chance. Now. He had to tell her now what he had kept in his frail heart these four years he had been with her.

"Nanako-dono, may I speak with you?"

[High's .Valentine.]

It was a terrible thing, to have been around him for so many years and still be unable to pick out his presence until he opens that darned mouth of his. The enemies he slaughtered, before they can even take a breath to grunt in surprise or pain collapsed with a muffled slump. If not for the foul smelling crimson, they would have looked as if they had fainted on the spot, unable to process the powerful aura of this white demon and just gave in a complete melt down. No one ever notice the assassins until they find the black clad bodies littered around their Empress’ small oriental and Western gardens and the Japanese porch next morning. It was a horrible mess for the servants to clean up, but by the third time, there really wasn’t much to be surprised about. They had seen the White Demon from the corner of their eyes, but none had dared to look straight at him. No one dared look in the Tengu’s eyes except God himself.

Nanako sat up with a jolt. Her glasses slipped off the bridge of her nose and the young woman, clad in a summer green kimono jammed the glasses back up her nose and anxiously peeked around. It was unlike the young woman to look so nervous. She feared nothing and no one. No one except the handsome Tengu behind the rice paper doors. Spotting the wooden door, strangely out of place in the whole Japanese setting, having been heavily influenced by Victorian styles, Nana cursed at her ill luck. With the thick bundles of silk she was wearing right now, getting to the door with dead silence was near impossible. If Shizore can hear her choke on an apple a mile away, he was definitely going to be able to hear her crawl towards the door in a kimono on a tatami. And the door squeaked, if she remembered correctly.

The last thing she wanted to do right now was talk to him though. His glossy eyes, his pitiful voice…ugh. She couldn’t stand it. Whether it was because she was weakening in some way or the other [definitely no thanks to his ‘charm’ or lack thereof], or just because things had dulled down so much that the boredom had eroded away that edge of hers, Nanako had become very non-confrontational towards the Tengu. Any kind of face to face alone time was enough to send Nana into hyperventilation or crazed hysterics—certainly not of the sobbing kind, of course. Something was happening to her, and she didn’t care to find out what. No heart-to-heart was going to happen. There will be no therapy, no discussions, no cry your eyes out sessions. Period.

And so, with that in mind, Nana turned towards the door, which awhile ago was five short steps away now seemed like an eternity.

Raise an arm. Rustle.

She cursed her obsession with rich silk dresses.

Move a leg. Squeak.

Carpets. Once she gets out of this, she’s going to turn this whole palace into a carpeted Western vacation home. Screw her Japanese roots.

Nanako looked back, a bead of sweat rolled down the side of her face, trailing from her temple. It dropped on the tatami and sounded like a waterfall. Another crawl. She kept her head back to check for movement. His silhouette against the rice paper made her skin crawl with…with…displeasure.

Forgoing the idea of crawling—too much surface to rub against—Nana gathered up all the powers of stealth she possessed, strained her muscle, and stood up.

There wasn’t much she can do with her dress. Gathering it up, the girl winced at the muted ruffles, which because she knew better, probably sounded like thunder to Shizore’s ears. Goddamn his god-like senses. If she was any more of an optimist, she would hope that he think it to be the wind or some kind of rat running around her prestigious home or something…

Yeah right.

Her head poised and trembling from the strain of keeping so still and her eyes trained on the shadow, Nanako took one more step.

Another two…

“RAWR!”

Damn cat. She had forgotten her cat was sleeping right in front of the door. Having trained all her attention on the shadow at the door, how tight she had strained those muscles, and the sudden shrill cry of her oversized feline and its stepped on tail, Nanako found herself caught off guard. It was an unpleasant feeling, and it’s been a long while.

“GAH!” Nana cried, tripping and finding herself unable to form any kind of balance. Here’s to hoping she falls backwards.

Her faced rammed into the wooden door, grinding her nose right into it. If Shizore had bothered to enter now, he would have found his Mistress leaning against the door, as if punishing herself to a time out in the most comical ran-into-a-brick-wall manner. One shouldn't be surprise to find that she'd have a bloody nose by now, and there's no doubt that her glasses would be bend beyond shape. What followed will be of course...of no benefit to the Tengu in any way whatsoever.

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[Akito]

His mistress had always been clear about never entering her room without express permission. Very clear. She had made him fast for a month the last time he heard a suspicious noise and barged into her room...while she was changing.

She was bigger than he thought, though not quite as healthy as her ancestor before her...

In any case, he had learned his lesson and did not wish to displease her again - he did not budge at the first signs of noise, of her shuffling about for some reason or other. Shizore reasoned Nanako must've been changing again, or perhaps she was occupied and he had come at an inconvenient time...He waited nervously.

However, when he heard a loud 'thump' against the wooden door, for Nana's palace had always been a strange mix of Eastern and Western - his nerves gave in. A flick of his wrists and a whirl of his clawed left hand, the tatami door was falling to pieces like snow before him to reveal the contents of the room within.

Now, let us for a moment sympathize with Shizore's line of thought. His master bleeding, the only other living denizen in the room being Nana's cat. Surely, one could excuse poor, well meaning Shizore for...raking the cats eyes out with his long nails. No, not even that - Shizore immediately upon entering the room and registering the situation, drove his still clawed left hand into the cat's face. And clenched. The cat did not die immediately, for Shizore avoided the crucial cranial areas, instead the Tengu allowed the feline to keep its central nervous system so that it might feel the agony of five fingers being driven into its skull. Then, some moments after, with a violent flick of his wrist, Shizore threw aside the limp body of the cat. The corpse's back legs twitched a few times, before they stilled evermore.

"Nanako-dono...Nanako-dono..." The Tengu's voice was sweet, almost lyrical, ridden with concern for her well being. So pure and loving a voice, one could be forgiven for thinking the speaker could never do something as violent as Shizore just did. Ambient eyes of amber gazed earnestly at Nanako, then away from her and around the room.

If the Last Breath was thought by the populace to be a venerable mountain of tranquility and elegance; then to see him now would shatter all of this misconception. Shizore had quickly been reduced to a nervous wreck as he saw the blood roll from Nanako's nose.

Panic-stricken and hysterical, Shizore plundered through the room - his wings already formed on his back as they propelled him from one corner to the next in search of first aid, of bandaids...of anything to help Nanako's dire wound! He fluttered about the room, frantic like a mother bird; until finally, unable to find anything, the Last Breath turned to his mistress and grabbed the hem of her robe.

"Nanako-dono, please...please don't die, please...you must hang on...I will fetch you the best physician! So, please...don't die...!" He sobbed, almost pitifully so, eyes begging her. There was no deceit in these eyes, this was no joke to him. This was an honest reaction to her nose bleed. Turning, the Tengu prepared himself to shoot off into the night and seek her a top physician - even if he had to kill that physican's current patients, break that physician's legs and drag the physician here to do so.