Chapter Three

Inconvenient

 

Nekohiko knew he had to run for his life, but no matter how much he tried, nothing happened. Only now, when he had eyes could he gauge the approximate size and weight he possessed. Compared to everything else in the room, his log form was massive. He towered above the rest of the statues and smaller woodblocks. Not a tiny particle of his could be budged by his will alone. He had a hard time imagining how the workers had squeezed him here in the first place.

Oh, this was so bad. He hadn't asked for this wretched existence, but now that he had it, he already felt scared of losing even that.

Chop it. Burn it, they said?

Damn!

If they chopped and burned him, would his soul finally be free from this world? And if so, then... would he forget his previous life when he'd been a very stupid, trusting human, and not a dumb piece of wood? Would he forget Abihiko? The agony? The betrayal?

It wasn't the physical, material life that he was so reluctant to lose. He was scared of losing his memory, his drive -- his desire to pay back for his suffering. With whatever means possible.

Right after he'd heard the first time that the current emperor was Abihiko, something stirred in him. It wasn't pain. And it wasn't morbid curiosity of how and when exactly his murderer had ascended to his throne, though later that intrigued him as well.

No. It was pure, undiluted hatred. Loathing so powerful he started laughing hysterically in his own mind as he repeated those words, "Supreme Divine Emperor Abihiko" over and over again like a chant. Like a prayer. Abihiko. Abihiko, of all people. Ah, he realized that his bizarre existence wasn't that of endless torment in the afterlife. He wasn't calling it that anymore. His existence now had a goal. It had a destiny.

His destiny was to end Abihiko's life. To prolong it like torture before that scum person inevitably died. And then, to revel in the aftermath.

Yet as he thought about it more, he also knew that such a goal would be impossible for him to achieve. What could a dumb block of wood do to an emperor, exactly? But "how" hadn't mattered to him back then. Only "when". He would come up with a plan later.

And now even that was threatened by these two superstitious brats in front of him?

The girl was yelling orders to some people Nekohiko couldn't see as she ran out of the room and down the sunlit hallway. But as she did, her brother finally stopped gawking at Nekohiko.

"Wait! No!" Kataji screamed back at her, turning dramatically. "You can't burn down my workshop!"

Since the noise and agitation outside weren't decreasing, Kataji had nothing else to do but go there himself. Yet his eyes inadvertently returned to Nekohiko's.

Frightened beyond belief, Nekohiko held the young man's gaze for a few long moments. He didn't know if the other could read his emotions, his plea, his desire to live in that gaze, but he had nothing else to emote with. So he stared and stared, dumbfounded.

Kataji suppressed a shudder and started toward the door. But a flock of Bound Servants already poured inside to destroy everything wooden within the workshop. The first Bound Servant stepped into the room, a huge axe glinting in his hands, head swiveling to see what its aim was supposed to be.

Kataji struck his arms wide as if to cover all the piles of his carved statues. "No! No, you dare not touch anything here other than that--"

He swung to Nekohiko again, disgust searing his features. "Other than that thing."

A couple of more Bound Servants stumbled into the workshop, each with their own tool they must have grabbed as soon as Aomi had summoned them to come. A hammer in the hands of one, a garden hoe in the hands of the other, even a mop for the last one. Nonetheless, the sight of each of the tools infuriated Kataji.

"Don't you dare drip on my sculptures, idiot," he hissed at the mop-holding Servant, then ripped the axe out of the hands of the closest one. "Give me that! Not one of you sets fire in my workshop. Ever. You understand?"

"Order them to hack that log and carry the chunks to the main fire kiln." Aomi popped her head into the workshop once again. "The potters always whine about needing better quality firewood. Let them have that ugly log all they want!"

Nekohiko starkly felt the absence of lungs so that he could heave in distress. And an absence of a heart for it to plummet in his chest as his fate was sealed by Kataji's decisive nod.

The Servants moved in a cohesive wave toward him as Kataji added nervously, "Don't hack him here. In fact, don't hack him at all. The kiln can take him fully."

"Elder Brother," Aomi called. "It'd be easier to drag it in chunks."

"If that damn log is cursed, what do you think will happen if it drops any of its splinters and wood chips around the place?" Kataji whispered too loudly not to hear him even at the other end of the room where Nekohiko was. "Every part of that thing is probably laced with otherworldly resentment! It needs to burn to ashes in its entirety, or else any of its leftover parts will bear even more grudge toward us."

Oh, no shit, you forsaken creatures. If I survive this ordeal, Nekohiko thought vengefully because really, he had no way to vent his anguish and dread other than seethe and boil in his own thoughts, then you two will be first on my list alongside that scum Abihiko!

Mark my words.

"Yeah, but how can a splinter possibly harm anyone?" Aomi wondered out loud.

"Whatever it is, I want nothing to do with it," Kataji said. He snapped his loose apron strings off his shoulders and made an impulsive step toward Nekohiko as soon as the Bound Servants grabbed him to carry him away. The young man's eyes were sullen as he bent down to that spot where Nekohiko's source of vision was located. The scrunched apron pressed against Nekohiko's face. In one forceful swipe, he erased the eyes Aomi had drawn.

Just like that, darkness again.

Eternal, and bleak.

"Ugh, get that thing out of my sight, and quick," Kataji spat after he was done.

During the time the Bound Servants rolled and dragged and shoved him out of Kataji's workshop and through the halls Nekohiko couldn't see, all he thought was the ease with which his fate grew had filled with hope when the girl had given him sight. And the ease that took his hope away when the others wished it so.

Very familiar, this gutted feeling, wasn't it?

Even the air surged with heat in the place to which the Servants brought him. The main fire kiln, whatever that meant. If Nekohiko wasn't a tree, cut down recently, he wondered if he'd spark up from the sheer scalding hotness around the kiln even before being shoved inside. The Servants manhandled him. He was beaten, no doubt bruised, probably cracked in places. He hardly noticed it all.

He was going to die anyway, so why bother...

"What is all this commotion abou-- What are you dummies doing!"

A distraught voice of an older woman. Nekohiko heard only traces of it through the roar of the fire that reigned in the swerving heat of the kiln room. He perked up in wild hope but held himself back instantly.

Why was he such a gullible, naive log even now, after all that had happened to him? Stop embarrassing yourself, he chided. Stop being so dumb.

The woman's voice came closer. "That seal, and that brand! That log should not be touched like this! Are you trying to throw out the Property of the Emperor himself? Oh you wooden heads! Stop it, stop dragging that log right now!"

An old, lost-sounding man repeated every other of her words from further away. Who were these two old people? Didn't matter. Saviors!

"Great Aunt? Great Uncle?"

No, no... Kataji was here too. He would ruin everything. The chaotic clanging of the Bound Servants' feet on the stony floor drowned out most of the human words no matter how much Nekohiko strained his hearing.

The old woman and the man gushed in relief as soon as they found Kataji near. "Oh darling, quick, quick, tell those dummies to stop mishandling it. The Supreme Divine Emperor's Palace itself had gifted that log to us--"

"The precious Emerald Fir," the old man added fawningly. "You know how expensive and rare those trees are."

"We cannot possibly mistreat it, darling. We have to carve something out of it for His Majesty in return for all His favors."

Kataji remained silent for a while. The old lady made a lot of noise, either coming over to smack some of the Bound Servants on their heads or flapping her hands, gesturing for Nekohiko to be moved away from the heat currents wafting off the kiln. So Nekohiko was gingerly rolled away, gathering ash and dirt all along the floor.

If he could still weep in gratitude, he would now. That old woman, that Great Auntie. Thank you, thank you dearly!

"Great Aunt." Kataji hesitated. "That log is haunted. It's cursed. It's probably malevolent, too. We need to burn it to purify the entire residence."

The hush that followed seemed to possess weight.

"Erm..." the old man began.

"I'll demonstrate," Kataji said in a haughty tone as though offended by the elders' disbelief.

Under Kataji's touch, Nekohiko wanted to squirm. The young man's hands also trembled whenever he had to graze Nekohiko's surface, but steadily, he dipped his finger into something dusty on the floor and brought it over to Nekohiko. After only a few strokes, Nekohiko's sight returned.

"There," Kataji struck his palms together to clear them off ashes. "Observe."

The old people still made no noise, only held their breaths.

Nekohiko again had eyes, huh. He again could see.

But he refused to. Kataji had drawn his eyes wide-open as his sister had done before. Of course most people would draw eyes, however stylized -- open and staring. Because of that, Nekohiko couldn't close his eyes now lest that proved to everyone present that he was indeed haunted! He had to remain wide-eyed, staring straight ahead, whatever that cost him.

But now that his gaze was directed before him, Nekohiko couldn't help but see. The shadowy and fiery room, the dumb outlines of motionless Bound Servants on the sides, the blur of an old couple a bit away. And Kataji close by. Everything Nekohiko was seeing, he saw unfocused. He feinted inability to see. He feinted lack of sentience and lack of life, period.

"Oh darling," the old woman tried. "That is... a log, yes. What exactly should we be looking at?"

Kataji's eyes narrowed a margin as he put up a staring deathmatch with Nekohiko. One of his eyebrows arched in vexation after quite a few minutes when still nothing happened and Nekohiko didn't move. With a light chuckle, Kataji smiled in the direction of his aunt, then --

"BOOO!" he roared at Nekohiko, both hands dashing into Nekohiko's "face" as though to hit him. Then he froze in that striking pose, his dark eyes boring into Nekohiko's drawn ones for even the slightest hint of motion there.

Nekohiko stared before him. Motionless and horrified to his core. If he had teeth, he'd be grinding them together now.

Kataji, you freak.

Only the old woman behind Kataji reacted, gasping and pressing a hand to her breast.

"Kata," she moaned. "My heart. You scared me."

In a flash, Kataji turned around. He and the old man hurried to the woman, concern in each of their movements. "Great Aunt, I'm sorry -- I'm sorry! I didn't mean to," Kataji was saying even though he kept throwing burning looks over his shoulder to Nekohiko.

Nekohiko stared straight before him, still as stone.

"I'm fine, don't you worry. Just need air... it's so terrible in this room. So hot," the aunt said, dismayed. She allowed the old man to pull her toward the way out of the kiln room. But not before she swatted Kataji on his head, then pointed to Nekohiko. "Please get that precious log out of here, dear. It will dry out and combust solely from how hot it is inside!"

"But Great Aunt, the log... it's--"

"Kata," both the old people chided. "It's only a log."

"Exactly. Don't overthink it. Just... use it. Carve something nice from it."

"I don't use firs in my work," Kataji went on, stubborn. "And besides, my skills are quite subpar for this kind of... precious wood. I'm afraid I'll only ruin it instead."

"Ah darling," the Auntie sighed. She squeezed the young man's shoulder amicably. "You don't have to do much. Just a small statuette will do. Or a wood panel. For His Majesty's office chamber, or something like that."

"Make it tasteful, too. To fit the Supreme Divine Emperor's status, you know." The old man brightened as well as he nodded fast like a toy. "Or make a sculpted portrait of His Majesty, in all his gilded robes and regalia -- all that. He'll love that."

Distaste colored Kataji's expression even sourer than before. "I will not do anything of the sort for His Majesty, thank you very much."

"Sweet Kata, don't be like this," the woman said.

"But I might... make a wood panel or a painting for Eldest Brother, I suppose," Kataji said like cutting each and single word with his personal knife of style. "I'll see if that log has any parts that would suffice, though. But I'm not hopeful."

The two old people traded soothed smiles with each other. "That's really all we ask of you. You're a good boy," the woman murmured to Kataji's annoyed sniff. 

And with that, the two left. Nekohiko couldn't peer that way, so he didn't see Kataji from this angle either. He half-hoped the young man left as well.

The kiln room grew quiet. Too quiet. Too hot, and dry with its searing blaze from the kiln -- and quiet.

When the person that was still in the room finally moved again, the motion he made sounded reluctant. He slowly walked into Nekohiko's line of sight.

Kataji. Letting a long sigh out. Thinking of something, probably. Nekohiko was too scared to dare look at the young man's face.

"Open the kiln door," Kataji ordered the Bound Servants.

Nekohiko roared inwardly.

He thrashed even though nothing in him could thrash. He wanted to beg and plead for his life, but none of that happened either. All he could do was stare straight before him so as not to give Kataji an opportunity to gloat at his despair in his last moments before dying. Even as a log, he had a thread of dignity to keep.

He'd been the Supreme Divine Emperor once, for heaven's sake.

"I'm sorry, really," Kataji said to no one in particular. Bound Servants weren't alive, so it was definitely not them he was speaking to. Was it himself?

"I don't want to do this, and you are quite a nice piece of wood," Kataji went on, voice shaking only slightly. "But having a malevolent Spirit in our home is not something I can allow. For the sake of everyone who lives here. You surely understand that, don't you? Please don't bear a grudge."

Nekohiko stared ahead unblinkingly on sheer will.

"Nothing personal. You're simply... inconvenient," Kataji said. Only then he turned to throw one last glance at Nekohiko.

...

All of a sudden, Kataji face froze in something like shock. "What are you doing," he snapped. "No. No, stop it. That's unfair!"

Nekohiko hardly heard him. That word, that one word kept resounding viciously through his mind like a barbed branch tangling him tighter and tighter within its coils.

Sorry, Neko. Really, it's nothing personal. Just... the general inconvenience of you.

Please, don't be mad.

Why did it have to sound so much like the last words Abihiko had told him? Why? Why give him such a low, grisly punch right before sending him off to ultimate death in the fire?

"You... manipulative bastard," Kataji growled directly into Nekohiko's face. Nekohiko blinked, confused as to why Kataji was so close to him, and why he was so exasperated, and why he was rubbing his hands against Nekohiko's front side so vehemently.

There was something wet on his wood grain, Nekohiko realized. Not only something wet but also something alive and running and... unending.

Tears, tears streaming from his ash-drawn eyes like a waterfall he couldn't control anymore.

He hadn't even known how sad he'd been until now. How... broken, deep inside. He'd believed it was rage and hatred that filled his thoughts and dreams in the afterlife, but in reality, it was this.

Only an endless, lost sorrow.

"Stop it!" Kataji said again, this time lower. Quieter. "You can't do this... can't do something like this! Where is your wooden honor, or whatever!" As if punishing Nekohiko, he slapped his surface with his palm. "I really hate it when people cry in front of me. People... logs, no matter. I hate it. So... just, stop."

But once liberated, such bitter tears couldn't stop as easily. Nekohiko watched blurry-eyed as Kataji fumbled around, both uncomfortable and seemingly furious at himself.

With his shaking hand, Kataji smeared a harsh line of ash beneath Nekohiko's eyes. And another one below -- curved. For the first time in what felt like eternity, Nekohiko made a sound as soon as the two lines connected. He made a crushed sob through half-open lips.

He had... lips now.

Kataji glowered at him from under his long disheveled hair. "You... freak of nature," he said.

Nekohiko's mouth quivered. "I--" he uttered and immediately shut up.

It was his voice. His own voice -- the one he'd always had as a human! He could speak... he could speak to another person, at last!

Only now that he did, not a thought crossed his mind regarding what he wanted to say.

"Speak," Kataji ordered.