Kinslayer (55 page)

Gods, Buruu. You’re all right.

APPARENTLY SO.

I love you so much.

He blinked, nuzzled close.

AND I YOU.

I thought I was going to lose you.

I THOUGHT YOU WERE ALREADY LOST.

Nothing is going to keep us apart again, you hear me? Not oceans, not storms, not armies. I’m by your side, always. I’ll die with you, Buruu.

SUCH MELODRAMA, GIRL.

Don’t be mean.

He smiled into her mind.

LET US HOPE IT DOES NOT COME TO THAT, THEN.

She held him for the longest time, saying nothing at all. And then she let him go, hand drifting to the hessian still bound to his back, shredded and bloodstained. Most of the satchels had been lost somewhere in the chaos of the past few days—in the attack or the crash or the bloody brawl here on broken black glass. Only one remained. He could feel the fear in her, the tremors in her fingers as she reached inside, hoping beyond hope. And then her fingers closed about it, drawing it forth, a miracle in lacquered wood. A shape as familiar to Yukiko as her own face. Her ninth birthday present.

“My tantō,” she breathed.

She had almost lost it. Just as she’d almost lost herself. In the hate. In the rage.

Walking to the island’s edge, she stood there in the wind, him beside her, watching the ocean sway. In her right hand, she held the blade her father had given her when her brother died. A gift from the man who had given everything of himself to keep her safe. A man she hadn’t truly mourned, whose loss had cut her too deep for tears. In her left, she held the sword Daichi had given her, naked and gleaming, the old man’s call to cherish her anger, to fill the empty of her father’s loss with fury. The storm howled about her as she stood as still as stone, and beyond the razored shore, Buruu could feel the sea dragons curling beneath black water, looking at her with glittering eyes, rolling with the breath of the waves.

He could feel it inside her. The weight of it all. The reality of what lay before her, the awareness of what she’d become, what she’d been. The grief she’d never given voice, allowing it to blacken and fester, like the cancer eating Shima’s heart. The hate she’d clung to, thinking it would make her strong. That it would be enough. That it was all she needed.

She lifted the katana, made to hurl it toward the water, rid herself of the anger Daichi had named a gift. Blue-white lightning kissed the skies above, thunder giving her pause, a frozen silhouette with the blade hoisted above her head. She breathed deep for a lifelong moment, filled with the howl of lonely winds, finally lowering her arm and looking again at the blades in her hands. Strapping the scabbard to her obi, she sheathed the sword at her waist, the tantō beside it. Not one or another. Light and dark. Water and fire. Love and hate.

Together.

And then she turned and slipped her arms around his neck and cried until no voice remained of her grief. Until her body shook and her chest burned and there were no tears left inside her. Nothing but an old wound finally beginning to scab, and the memory of a man lifting her into his arms amidst a forest of swaying bamboo. Of lips pressed to her cheek. Of whiskers tickling her chin.

“I will be with you,”
he’d said.
“I promise.”

A memory that at last made her smile.

*   *   *

Buruu watched Yukiko and the gaijin fish around the metal dragonfly’s belly until they found a heavy box the color of dying leaves. The man made a triumphant sound, grinned like a fool. Yukiko pried it open, found it brimming with greasy wrenches and spanners and cutting torches; anything and everything required to repair the strange lopsided craft in the event of a crash.

And so Buruu sat and licked his wounds as Yukiko and the gaijin beat his metal wings into shape as best they could, riveting the torn harness back together, bending and pounding the iridescent frame, straightening crumpled feathers and pinning them down with iron bolts. And though there was precious little grace left in Kin’s contraption when they were done, Buruu flapped his wings and felt creaking, squealing lift beneath them, enough perhaps to return them to Shima.

To the war that awaited.

He dove off the promontory and soared out over the waves, the roaring storm beneath his wings, lover-sweet whispers in his ears. Lady Sun was reaching toward a new dawn, and Yukiko stood on the shore and screamed in triumph, hands in the air, a smile on her face that seemed to him as wide and as bright as summer skies.

Yukiko’s howls finally roused the female from her coma, and she clawed her way to her feet, shaking side to side to rid herself of the rain’s weight, wings spread in a broad fan, eyes still half clouded with shock. Snow-white fur ran to scarlet in the breaking light, and she turned toward the pale warmth, wind caressing the feathers at her throat, the fur on her flanks, her stripes like black clouds across a sunset sky.

Just as magnificent as he remembered.

Yukiko reached toward Buruu, hand outstretched, eyes narrowed in concentration as she wrapped both him and the female up in the Kenning, drawing the pair of them into her thoughts. He could feel the wall of self Yukiko had built in her mind, pain crackling along its surface, seeping inside and making her wince. But still, despite the lingering ache, he felt a warmth and peace more comforting than any home he had ever known.

Yukiko spoke to the female, thoughts as gentle as mother’s hands.

You’re awake. Are you all right?

—I WILL LIVE, YŌKAI-KIN.—

The female looked at him across the gulf between then and now, tail switching, eyes narrowed, talons shredding the shale beneath her paws. He could feel her in the space Yukiko had created within the Kenning, a bitter, jagged heat in the corner of a blood-warm room, and as he spoke, she turned toward him, the sound of his thoughts echoing upon the walls.

HELLO, KAIAH.

She blinked, said nothing. Yukiko looked back and forth between them, wind blowing her hair about her face in sodden drifts, amazement in her eyes.

Wait, you two know each other?

The female snorted.

—KINSLAYER KNOWS NOTHING OF ME. I, TOO MUCH OF HIM.—

He could feel Yukiko’s curiosity burning like fire. But brighter still was the need to get back to Shima, to see if there was any chance of stopping Hiro’s wedding, to return to the people she knew were relying on her—the storm waiting for her to call its name.

Buruu should be able to fly now. We have to get back home.

—THEN GO.—

Will you come with us?

—WOULD DO THAT WHY?—

Because there’s a war waiting for us. Because two thunder tigers are better than one.

—YOUR WAR MEANS NOTHING TO ME. SHIMA IS A WASTELAND. NOTHING WORTH FIGHTING FOR.—

Then why did you help me?

—DID NOT HELP YOU. HELPED THEM.—

Yukiko blinked, tilted her head.

Buruu and Skraai? You said they were—

—NOT THE MALES, MONKEY-CHILD. RAIJIN TAKE ME SHOULD I HELP THE KINSLAYER.—

Then who do you mean? Who is “they”?

—YOU REALLY NOT KNOW?—

Kaiah looked at Buruu, disdain in her gaze, fur gleaming like fresh winter snow.

—CANNOT FEEL THEM, KINSLAYER? NOT HEAR THEM SCREAM WHEN THE MONKEY-MAN STRUCK HER BELLY?—

Realization dawned, a cold slap to his face, an understanding so bright he wondered how he didn’t see it before. All of it …

All of it made sense now …

Yukiko’s illness at the rising of the sun. Her moods, constantly shifting, like sand upon a windswept beach. The heat and light of the world growing along with her strength, her inability to shut it out. The amplification of the Kenning, her power doubling over the course of the last few months.

Yukiko looked at him, eyes bright with uncertainty.

No, not doubling.

Tripling.

YUKIKO …

What is she talking about?

—TELL HER.—

Tell me what? Who is they?

Buruu sighed, storm howling overhead, lighting reflected in the bottomless black of her eyes. The girl he loved more than anything in this world. The girl he would do anything to protect, to spare her even one more second of pain.

But he could not spare her this.

YUKIKO …

Oh, gods, no …

The sigh came from the heart of him.

YUKIKO, YOU ARE WITH CHILD.

She stared at him, mouth agape, hands moving slowly to her belly.

“Them”?

YES.

He nodded.

TWINS
 …

Yukiko sank to her knees, clutching her abdomen and staring at nothing at all. The gaijin knelt beside her, asking if she was well. She was pale as death, wide-eyed, fingers splayed on black glass as if the whole world were shifting beneath her.

Which he supposed, in a very real way, it was.

HELP ME WITH HER, KAIAH.

—SPEAK NOT TO ME.—

He looked at the islands around them, the spire of rusted copper, the nomad’s corpse, skinned and bloody, the gaijin torn to ragged meat and food for worms. This place that lay days from the Everstorm. Riddled with monkey-children like fleas on a cur. Miles from the islands the arashitora called home. Why was she here at all? Why was she not …

WHY ARE YOU HERE INSTEAD OF WITH KOUU?

She stepped forward with a snarl, hackles raised.

—SPEAK HIS NAME AGAIN AND DIE.—

He looked down at Yukiko, shell-shocked on the stone, fingers pressed to her belly, mouth agape as she sucked in breath after heaving breath.

YOU RISKED YOUR LIFE TO SAVE THESE CHILDREN, NOT YET BORN.

Kaiah growled as he padded toward her.

WHY? MONKEY-CHILDREN MEAN NOTHING TO ARASHITORA.

—…—

WHY, KAIAH?

—NO MORE YOUNGLINGS DIE. MONKEY-CHILD OR OTHER. NO NEWBORNS. NO UNBORNS. NEVER AGAIN.—

WHERE ARE YOUR CUBS, KAIAH? WHERE IS YOUR MATE?

—MUCH CHANGE AFTER YOU LEFT, KINSLAYER.—

He sensed a terrible sorrow within the Kenning, a river running too deep for Kaiah to hide it all.

—MUCH LOST.—

TORR?

—YES.—

FATHER, SAVE US …

—NOTHING TO SAVE US NOW.—

COME WITH US. FLY WITH US.

—WHY?—

He nodded to Yukiko.

FOR THE TWO WITHIN HER. THE TWO YOU RISKED ALL TO SAVE. I CANNOT PROTECT THEM BY MYSELF.

—IF CANNOT PROTECT, DO NOT FIGHT.—

I GO WHERE SHE GOES. AND SHE WILL FIGHT UNTIL HER DYING BREATH.

Kaiah looked at the girl, something close to pity in her eyes. Waves crashed against the rocks, the roar and hiss of surf interwoven with the song of their father’s drums. She looked up at the storm-torn fray, breathed the scent of salt and rust and blood.

I CANNOT DO THIS ALONE, KAIAH.

—TOLD YOU NO, KINSLAYER.—

She tossed her head, rain spraying from her feathers, ghosts in her eyes. They stared at each other as Lady Sun crept higher in the sky, just a smudge of light behind the rolling clouds in eastern skies. The dawn was almost as dark as the night had been. Almost as if Amaterasu had never bothered to rise from her slumber.

Yet she
had
risen, as she’d done every day before this, and would do every day until the ending of the world. And every now and then, as the clouds shifted across the eastern heavens, a ray of light would pierce the gray horizon; just a tiny moment of illumination, a heartbeat long. And in that brief second, the sunlight would catch the falling rain and turn it to a thousand diamonds, sparkling like the long-lost stars as they tumbled from the sky. It would catch the edges of the islands around them, slick with red ocean’s kiss, dancing like flame on the edges of razors as Fūjin sang the song of the wind. Even here. Even now.

Even on the darkest day, the world could be beautiful. If only for a moment.

He could feel the little ones inside Yukiko—two tiny sparks of life, shapeless and bright, intertwined with her own heat. They pulsed, too formless to know true fear, but real enough to feel their mother’s terror, shock, sorrow through the Kenning. The fear spilled into him, fear for them, for the one who carried them, for the beating, bleeding heart of his world.

He knew Kaiah could feel them too.

PLEASE.

Kaiah growled, deep in her throat, tail whipping side to side.

—NO. WILL NOT FIGHT FOR YOU.—

Buruu bowed his head, breathed deep, tasted defeat on his tongue. Nothing he could do. Nothing he could say. He could feel the ache in Kaiah’s heart. The ache that drove her to this razored shore. A sorrow too vast to see the edges. Little ones. Precious ones. Loved ones.

Gone.

Taken.

Kaiah padded over to Yukiko, knelt on the stone before her. The girl looked up, swollen, trembling lips and frightened, blackened eyes. An age passed, there in the howling storm, the clawing wind, the driving rain, until at last, the thunder tiger leaned in close, pressed her head against Yukiko’s belly, and listened.

The sun slipped out from behind the clouds.

Just for a moment.

—BUT I WILL FIGHT FOR THEM.—

And the rain about them turned to falling diamonds.

42

PULSE