Chapter Ten

Throwback

 

Coalback stopped before a massive building, the bulk of which was hiding behind the nearby houses while only its narrow exit squeezed itself onto the street. Such a huge building could only be the woodcarver's. Since woodcarvers and metalworkers tended to have the biggest market ties to Spirit-Binders, stores that cut wood and melded metals were as respected as the Binding shrines themselves. The sign above the discreet entrance read "Metori's Lumberworks", and the door was wide open, leaving only the small curtain as a barrier from the street noise and heat. Aomi abandoned the horse and darted for the murky corridor of the store.

"Wait! What about the horse?" Nekohiko whispered. Aomi frowned, only remembering now.

"Ah yes." She dragged her feet as she tied the horse's reigns to the small lantern-post on the side of the street. A couple of passersby shook their heads at her with displeasure.

Nekohiko agreed with them. Who brought horses to such narrow places? Aomi must really be a child never before let out of her confinement. She didn't know even such basic rules of how to behave in a civilized society! Not that Nekohiko himself was such an expert. But then, most normal people didn't bother to have horses in the first place with how high-maintenance living creatures were.

Inside the store, the overwhelming scent of fragrant woods and of polishing lacquer made Nekohiko wince. He threw glances left and right but so far, he didn't see anything suspicious or out of the ordinary. This was an absolutely normal woodcarving shop. Walking trays, following carts, food makers, creeping cleaners, music-making stations, all made of wood and Spirit-Bound to work according to their purpose. But no sex dolls. Nothing even remotely close. Had Aomi baited him again?

Abihiko had enjoyed doing it a lot, once. Making fun of Nekohiko's frustrated reactions to the most mundane or natural things in the world. Nekohiko imagined he was really a great victim for these kinds of jokes, wasn't he?

Aomi threaded through the small crowd of people who browsed lumber or wicker or bark in different sections and went straight for the storekeeper.

Nekohiko's head block thumped loudly on the counter before the elderly man who wore the typical jellylens goggles on his whitened hair.

"Hello, young lady." The man inclined his head, eyes smily.

"Hello, master Metori," Aomi echoed, bowing. "My brother and I are making a human doll."

"Ball-jointed?" Metori asked, already starting to examine Nekohiko's block on the counter. His lips suddenly opened in a toothless smile. "Emerald Fir, is this? The rarest, most precious sort. Ah, the texture. The smell!"

Aomi also leaned in, and both of them took lungfuls of Nekohiko's scent. This was quite... inappropriate, and quits undignified. Nekohiko suppressed an urge to squirm.

"We're just starting, so this is only the future head. The rest is still being cut," Aomi went on, swiveling her face left and right toward the many shelves filled with small wooden doll models and corresponding prices. "Kataji wants to carve the entire doll himself, but, you know..."

"Himself? Mmm." The old man frowned, not yet disagreeing, but not supporting the idea either. "Emerald Firs are so exquisite and not exactly easy to master. Carving out a human face is also a skill that takes a lot of time to perfect." He seemed very much captivated by Nekohiko, turning him this way or the other, unable to let him out of his hands. But the etiquette didn't allow the old man to outright ask for himself. "If I may offer advice, young Lady -- please tell young master Kataji he should begin with carving out legs and torso and arms before he does anything regarding a doll's face. In fact, I wouldn't mind overseeing his work, if so."

"Mm?"

"It would be my pleasure to help a promising beginner carver," Metori said in a general polite tone. Yet his eyes, greedily and all-too excited, never left Nekohiko's surface. And neither did his fingers. "So you do have the rest of this wonderful wood at home, I assume?"

"Mn. A huge log," Aomi threw over her shoulder, already disinterested.

Metori's hands trembled across Nekohiko's surface. "Oh my," the old man whispered. If his eyes could shine any brighter, they definitely tried to.

Aomi had long abandoned the counter and wandered off to a shelf with all the wooden human heads arranged on it like in some hellish museum of torture. The beige, featureless heads were lacking hair and lacking eyes, leaving only the gaping hollows staring at the potential customers from their shelves. Also, all heads had their lips slightly parted, adding another black hollow in a numbed screaming expression to the empty eye sockets.

The overall effect of this whole arrangement was bone-chilling.

"I'll tell him, sir Metori," Aomi promised, then pointed to one of the head models. "This one might be cute, but without eyeballs inside it and without the hair it's too hard to tell. What will it look like once fully done?"

"Ah, that would be the display room!" Metori beckoned her, too happy to hide his exuberance. Aomi's inquiry obviously meant she wanted a Metori's store model, not whatever monstrosity her amateurish brother would make. The old man gingerly carried Nekohiko's head in both his arms as though afraid to lose sight of him for even a second, and led Aomi into a wide room on the side. A room that Nekohiko had never wanted to see in his life. Neither before, nor ever again.

A room full of ball-jointed dummies of humans dressed up and made up to look most lifelike. All seeming exactly like people, but in an eerie, gut-squirming way. Paint and lacquer so ethereal and perfect, yet groomed to highlight the most realistic features of a human face, one wouldn't be able to tell these dolls were made of wood at all.

The dummies were posing in various everyday situations. Like drinking tea around the table, or like lounging on a bed, or like walking around, picking produce from nonexistent stalls. But the most unsettling thing was -- several customers were also ambling around this room, browsing, and several just standing around, studying the dolls. And when the humans stood among those lifelike dummies too quietly for too long a time, the moment one of the real people finally moved made one's heart lurch.

The fourth doll Aomi tried to touch turned out to be a real woman, and the two of them had quite a laugh about it.

Nekohiko was already miserable the moment Metori began touching and hugging him too intimately to himself, but being brought into this unnerving room to look at these bodies of which was bound to become a model for his own... it was simply too much.

"Mmm. They all are nice, but..." Aomi stopped before one of the male dolls and plied open the lapels of his robes to expose his polished chest. She released the lapels disappointedly. "Not exactly what I was looking for. If you know what I mean."

"Mm?" Metori finally forced his gaze off Nekohiko and at Aomi. "Not sure I understand, young Lady," he chuckled in a refined, courtly manner. "Could you be more specific?"

"You know." Aomi made huge eyes, then obliquely indicated the other customers in the room. "Some more... um... intriguing dolls?"

Nekohiko tensed up.

So it was starting. The pain, the torture.

"Ah." The old man fumbled, turning around as if not sure what he should be doing. Nekohiko felt himself squeezed in some desperation to the man's chest. Metori's voice faltered out of politeness and into genuine concern. "Forgive me, young Lady, but aren't you a bit... too young to ponder about such things?"

"Uh? No! Nooo." Aomi waved her hands in front of her face in spurned agitation. "The doll is not for me! Of course, I am too young for this kind of stuff. Too young and innocent, yes." She fluttered eyelashes and even dared to look demure to Nekohiko's growing distaste. "The doll is for my brother. He is very into getting one for himself."

A relieved breath let Metori's mouth in a rush. "Thank Spirits. Your brother," he laughed lightly, then took a proper look at the male doll whose clothes Aomi had been fondling all this while. "Shouldn't young master Kataji be the one to choose a model he likes, then?"

Aomi halted, not reaching for the next doll that caught her interest. "...Kataji?"

The thought seemed to give her a start.

"Kataji," she repeated, amused. "Actually, the doll is for my other brother, but now that you put it that way... maybe for Kataji, too? I haven't decided that yet. Hmm, sounds interesting, though."

Almost everything she said missed Metori's ears other than -- "the doll is for my other brother."

And Nekohiko fully understood why.

The old man trembled even harder than before. An audible gulp bobbed in his throat. "Your other... You mean the Supreme... Divine... Ah! Yes-yes!" he instantly gushed, scurrying out of the display room and into the small office on the side. He even pushed some of the store patrons out of his way, in such a hurry he was. "This way, young lady! Let me show you the best stuff Metori's Works can offer!"

The customers gaped and squawked in surprise at the old man's attitude, each trying to crane their necks to see where Metori was leading Aomi to. He minced his feet, scrambling into his office and letting Aomi in after himself, then diligently pulled the door of the office closed behind her.

"This way." He beckoned her into a niche and a door inside it. Both leading into a...

A smaller, almost entirely empty room with only the two dolls seated inside by the small tea table, wrapped in very loose clothes and even those -- of an ambiguous cut unfit for anything other than a bedroom. One doll was female. The other -- male.

Aomi stopped before them, clearly a bit let down. "Just... two to choose from?"

"The body parts are in the catalog, of course," Metori started, afraid. "We only have two models here because Sai is not exactly a town with a large... customer base for these kinds of... tastes. If I may inquire, though, wouldn't the capital your Great Brother lives in provide him with much more fitting woodcarving stores for a doll he wants? Metori's is only a small establishment, however dedicated to the craft we are."

Aomi ignored him, strolling over to the male doll and seating herself before it. Her hand reached for the doll's chiseled chest in the gap of his robes.

"Hey Itsuki," Aomi called. "Take a gander at thiiiis."

Uncertain, Metori turned to her with a smile, so Aomi indicated the block of wood in his arms.

"That's Itsuki. My brother's future boyfriend," she explained dreamily. "He has eyes and all, see?"

"Ah yes, yes." Metori chuckled in an understanding way and propped Nekohiko in his hands so that Nekohiko's painted eyes could stare directly at the doll Aomi was showing him.

The doll was... something. The flat, sculpted muscles showing through the doll's thin clothes, the melancholic misty-eyed look on the doll's unblemished face, the luscious locks of real human hair cascading down to his strong, wide shoulders. Aomi wiggled her eyebrows, then swooped her eyes down the doll's body.

Nekohiko seethed.

You naughty little--

"I definitely know which body model we'll be using," she said after examining all she needed to. "Both my brothers will absolutely love it!"

Nekohiko boiled in humiliation, already imagining how pathetic it would be if he actually ended up with a body to which young, nonsense-minded girls reacted in this way. What dignity would he have left? How would he be able to look Abihiko in the eyes as he murdered him in a predestined act of revenge if he had a body like that?

"You are rotten, rotten to the core," he told her after they came back outside and into the luminous afternoon. "Just so you know, I'm a person, so I have the freedom to choose the body I want. So--"

"I'm hungry," she complained, mounting Coalback and ruling him down the alley. Thoughtfully, she rubbed her stomach as she swung her head every which way to find a place she wanted to go to. All of Nekohiko's well-prepared speeches didn't bother her in the slightest.

"As long as Kataji participates in the choosing, I'm fine with it," Nekohiko said at last. Aomi would never pay attention to anything she didn't already care about. But he could bet that Kataji was his sworn ally in picking a body both efficient and appropriate for a serious person like himself. Kataji wouldn't allow anyone to harass a fellow gentleman with such indignities as all this sex-doll nonsense.

"Bring Kataji to choose? Oh, I would love to!" Aomi said. "Deal!"

...hmmm.

Didn't she agree a little too easily? Nekohiko began suspecting that something wasn't right about any of the girl's "deals". Very not right.

"Little Lady!" a man suddenly blared from the sunlit corner of the street, and Aomi shielded her eyes from the brilliant glow to see who was calling her.

Her mouth hanged open.

"Uncle Daichi?" she cried, then spurred Coalback toward him. "How come you're here?"

The man abandoned his buddies by the devil yam-selling store and ran to Aomi beaming with all his might. He caught her before she hit the ground, climbing off Coalback. With an unmanly squeal, he gave her a bear hug and then a playful bounce in his big arms.

"Why are you alone, Little Lady? There are so many bandits on the roads here! Where are you guards?" the man asked in a hoarse, gritty voice that was nonetheless brimming with tenderness.

Aomi started replying to him, smiling and giggling all the way, but Nekohiko had already stopped listening.

What was going on?

Was this... fate?

He was thoroughly absorbed in his memory. In those last few months before his death. In the sounds of voices of the people who'd been around him at that time:

Abihiko. The Five Great Lords.

And those elite guards each of the Lords had gifted him.

This man's voice... he couldn't be mistaken about it, could he? More than that -- the man's name. Daichi. It had been Daichi, hadn't it? Strong, valiant warrior Daichi, the elite guard of Lord Okinaga's.

Nekohiko recalled it clearer with each passing second. That night, five years ago. The night of Nekohiko's sixteenth birthday and the night of his death. The pale, gaunt face of Abihiko nearby and the sound of his cold, disinterested voice.

Sorry, Neko. Please don't be mad.

And behind Abihiko, he remembered seeing the outlines of several people standing. Daichi's figure stark among them. Stark among the people who did nothing as Nekohiko had been convulsing in his best friend's arms, slowly bleeding out.

And this Daichi person was here.

Now.

Nekohiko missed most of the conversation Aomi and Daichi were having. It was full of inconsequential gossip and smalltalk anyway. All he could understand were the mentions of some people both Daichi and Aomi knew and cared about. He couldn't even say how exactly Daichi and Aomi were acquainted because from the inside jokes the two were flinging about it was impossible to tell.

"...How could I let His Majesty's cute little sister starve?" Daichi was saying. He patted Aomi's back, prodding her to a small cozy restaurant a few stores down the street. "If you're hungry, you're in luck. This place serves the best beef-and-noodle pancakes you can find north of Miyako."

"You southerners and your endless pancake obsession," Aomi groaned, then held a finger up. "I hope you're treating, Uncle Daichi."

He laughed. "Of course." Then, as they made a small detour to leave Coalback at an actual horse-hitching post nearby, Daichi asked, "The Emperor is having big troubles with Hisome and Nagare Kingdoms again, eh?"

"How would I know? None of my business. It's boring as dirt," Aomi answered. "What should I order for dessert?"

Nekohiko's hearing temporarily went out.

He thought he misheard. Did... did Daichi just say "Kingdoms"? He should have said "Lordships", as they had always been called. Hisome, Nagare, Hira, Towa, Utsuro -- five great families and five great Lordships under their reign.

Aomi! he wanted to call her attention to himself but had no way to do that. Please don't change the topic! Please talk about this more!

"I'm just worried about your brother, that's all." Daichi let out his breath slowly when he and Aomi were done with the horse and paid the Bound Watcher dummy to keep an eye on it for an hour or so. "He's walking a razor-thin line in there."

"No one forced him to ascend the throne," Aomi grumbled under her nose, then scowled up at Daichi. "Can we not talk about this? I want to know the reeeeal stuff. How is the capital? What do people read and watch there? Come on, Uncle Daichiii!"

Even Daichi shook his head in dismay as if warding off a painful thought. "You're right, Little Lady. No need to talk about vultures before a meal. It'll ruin the appetite."

"If only people listened to me more," Aomi said.

The rest of the afternoon went by in the rowdy stove-top restaurant with Aomi and Daichi sharing banal words about their friends and everyone they knew. Though Aomi was mainly interested in asking about imported goods and fashion trends in Nara, the capital. Nekohiko could only wait it out and spend all his time too distraught by Daichi's sudden appearance in his new, wooden life and what it meant for him. And above all, in his fruitless speculations about why were two of the five Great Lordships now called Kingdoms.

Kingdoms, seriously? What the hell was even going on in the Empire while he'd been dead? Everything sounded strange and... wrong.

Argh, the suspense of not knowing!

"Itsuki. Can you hear me?"

A finger tapped him on the surface, but not here. Somewhere far away from here. Daichi and Aomi had all but forgotten about him once they sat down to chat and devour their pancake servings, and Nekohiko didn't bother with them either.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the feeble, barely perceptible sensation hours away from Sai. Back in Red Stone estate.

It was Kataji.

Kataji was speaking to him again?

At last. Thank heavens.

"Mm?" Nekohiko blearily drew into focus as one of many wood pieces back in Kataji's workshop. He could hardly quell his nervousness and elation of being able to talk to Kataji after all these days of being apart.

But he didn't know how to act without seeming desperate and vulnerable to him. He didn't know it one bit.

"Hi," Nekohiko said, awkward.

"Hi...," Kataji answered.

And that only made it somehow even more awkward.