Chapter Twenty-Two

The Tell-Tail

 

It was Kataji's stretching out his limbs as he woke up that brought Nekohiko out of his sleep.

Daylight pooled coppery over the bamboo mats of Kataji's room. It dappled up the shelves and gleamed in every smooth, polished surface of wooden pets and sculptures that made the room into one giant, bizarre menagerie of tails, muzzles, whiskers, and paws. Noon? Leaf-swirling autumn?

A lazy, generous day.

Someone was banging on the door with what sounded like a head.

Nekohiko wanted to snap up at the noise but creaked so harshly with all his rickety limbs that he immediately remembered.

His night's murder of Daichi. The attack of the Lumber-Devouring Spirit.

Damn it. Everything ached inside his cracked body but also in his soul. No, his soul hurt so much more. He didn't even want to get out of bed, so wrecked he felt.

"Oooooopen. Ooopen up, you lazies? I'm so bored! Wood you please wake up already?"

Kataji let out a hum curling in around Nekohiko. Then, as though realizing what he was doing, he stiffened, eyes flying open. He slowly let go of Nekohiko and sat up.

He cleared his throat. "How much time is it?"

"Too mulch! Too mulch time!" Aomi whined from behind the door.

"Overslept," Kataji said, distraught. He raked his disheveled hair with his hands. "I should have fixed you before we fell asleep, damn it. You probably couldn't move at all through the night--! I'm so sorry."

"It's all right. I only just woke up myself," Nekohiko told him but too late.

Kataji was already riling himself up with his wounded ego at the fact that he'd somehow let Nekohiko down.

On Aomi's side, silence hanged heavy. "...fixed him? Wait, what happened?"

Kataji yanked open the door, letting the alarmed girl in. Her eyes swooped to the floor and the obvious small basin of pink water in it alongside the drying rags and bandages, and then to Nekohiko's tossed-around furry ball on the pillow. Her cheeks flushed with worry as her eyes stopped somewhere around Nekohiko's hind parts. She frowned.

"Who tore off your--" she began asking.

But before she could make a single step forward, Kataji already took the lead.

"No time to chat! Get aside!"

He swaddled Nekohiko in his downy blanket and without even putting a proper dress or a robe on, grabbed Nekohiko's wrap in his arms and dashed out the door and down the stairs. Aomi could only hop aside to not be trampled.

Even Great Aunt and Uncle sitting on the porch and waving at Kataji to come sip a cup of tea with them weren't given a greeting. Kataji stormed through the house, past them and toward his workshop. All in a span of less than a few moments.

With his usual intense concentration, Kataji ignored him as Nekohiko kept telling him that he wasn't dizzy, or weak, or particularly disabled by his night assault. That he was completely fine if a bit shaken.

But no. Nothing made it to Kataji's ears. If Nekohiko wasn't so consumed with his dark thoughts about what Daichi had told him yesternight, he would pay more attention to how Kataji's hands trembled, cutting Nekohiko's fur to peer inside at his wooden carcass. Or to how Kataji's face lost all color when he took care of Nekohiko's ravaged throat.

"That damned monster," Kataji gritted out, his teeth tight around a small focus lantern he held in his mouth to shed light on Nekohiko's broken leg. Both of Kataji's hands were busy with the other tools, so the mouth it was. Most of his words came out distorted. "We haf to wring a Winder here to wrotect you frow any future attacks."

Nekohiko twitched ears, struggling to understand.

Did he mean -- bring a Binder here?

"Oh. Don't worry about that. I can make a purifying ritual on myself, actually," Nekohiko ventured out only to be shushed and pressed down again with Kataji's busy hands. "Kataji, trust me. I'm fine."

Kataji shook his head.

"I have plenty of other body parts," Nekohiko repeated like he'd done last night. The reminder had already worked once before.

Not so now.

"So, plenty of immobile, restrictive, trapped body parts," Kataji said, bitter. "Is that what you mean?"

"Plenty of immobile, restrictive, trapped body parts you can craft whatever you want from." All of a sudden, Nekohiko remembered that conversation he'd had with Aomi some time ago. About how she and Kataji weren't allowing themselves to befriend any live creatures. Only the wooden and constructed ones, to shield themselves from the pain of loss and of disappointment if the live creatures left them. For whatever reason. Nekohiko reached out to brush his paw over Kataji's hand but was pushed back mildly yet steadily. "Kataji, if I break, you can just make another me. Did you forget?"

"No." Kataji clanged his chisel onto the bronze tray, then slid the jelly goggles up his forehead. "I didn't forget."

"Good. So don't worry about it so much."

"--the way you screamed, and wept, and endured agony while I cut and carved you just to make this one small body? No, I did not forget that, Itsuki."

Nekohiko averted his gaze. "Well... it's my pain to endure. And I don't mind if that's what has to be done."

But Kataji already wasn't listening. He clamped the fur coat back to Nekohiko's wooden leg, then checked up the torso for any other obvious injury that needed fixing. In the time it took Nekohiko to come up with some tortuous statement he wanted to make, Kataji let out a huff and spread his arms in annoyance.

"I don't get it. What did that scoundrel Spirit want with your tail? If it's Lumber-Devouring, why did it have to rip the majority of your fur tail off, too?"

...tail?

It was as though an ice bucket showered Nekohiko head to toe. All along his spine, tingles erupted in a shudder.

His tail?

Hells. That goddamn thing! He'd never gotten used to it, and so he hadn't noticed when it was gone. It was torn off? But how... When?

Where?!

No. Don't tell me--

Kataji got to his feet from his workbench, swiping his goggles off his head and only now recognizing how inappropriately dressed he was. He let a crushed sigh out.

"I'll go change. Will you be all right in the workshop while you wait? I know it's protected from any Spirit that eats wood, so..."

Nekohiko could hardly breathe. He shook but managed to maintain his cool. Through immense strain, he squeezed out, "Uh-hm. I'll be fine."

Everything in him was spinning out of control. His heart, his breaths, his thoughts in a panicked kaleidoscope of yesternight's horrid events...

Where had he lost his tail? Please don't let it be there...

Please not in Daichi's room!

Vaguely, he remembered that Daichi had grabbed him and as Nekohiko was thrashing in his hands, some insignificant part had suddenly snapped free. He hadn't noticed the pain, only the perception of freedom of movement when that part wasn't connected to him anymore. And because he had never felt his tail, to begin with...

Daichi. That bastard. He'd torn off his tail and kept it?

Hadn't there been something small and dark and crumpled inside Daichi's fist, too, when Nekohiko had seen him last? He was being paranoid now, of course, but now that he thought more of it...

Kataji paused in the doors, half-turned. "I'll go look for your tail in the garden, too. Please don't move until I come. The glue and clamps are still drying."

...! Nekohiko swore, screamed, thrashed thousands of times in his mind.

He needed to run. He needed to get back to Sai and to the White Grove Inn to retrieve his stupid tail... What if it hadn't burned to ashes and was now a perfect clue leading back to him? He could not afford such an immense misstep.

Oh, he had so much to do, and with so little time to spare!

And yet, even as he tried to budge from the disorganized crafter's bench on which Kataji had repaired him, the thought of ruining his body and making Kataji worried about him again and so soon after the last night's terrors, kept him pinned back to the bench. Just for a bit.

But this "bit" was more than enough for Nekohiko to freeze. And then to stop flopping.

After all, what would he do if he could spring up and run this second? Would he seriously trek back to Sai just to make sure his tail hadn't survived that massive fire in the White Grove Inn? It was a bright day out there, already tilting into evening with how much time Kataji and he had spent on the cat body's maintenance. No doubt there were too many people crowding the White Grove Inn and Daichi's corpse already... Not that they'd find anything there. Nekohiko had taken care of that. He'd amplified the fire aspect in his Binding -- the room had to be destroyed entirely, leaving no clues left!

But what if... on an off chance...

And without even counting the amount of time it would take him to run there and back again... all while the Lumber-Devouring Spirit was still around and starving.

He dropped his head on the velvet throw Kataji had spread out for him over the hard surface of the bench. Calming his mind and his frenetic thoughts, Nekohiko breathed in and out, then switched his consciousness from this body to the only other one he had that was mobile.

Aomi's ladybug.

It was a small target for him to search for among the larger, more prominent wood parts strewn around the workshop and a couple of his smaller parts hidden in Aomi's and Kataji's rooms each. But if he searched for the capacity of motion, and sight, and hearing thoroughly enough, he was bound to find it.

There.

A body that let him through and let him see and hear and even move. To his surprise, it wasn't that hard to find. In fact, it didn't seem as tiny or frail to him once he settled into it.

He opened his eyes.

The existence felt roughly the same as it did from a cat's perspective. The size comparison, his perception of his own weight, the smooth ease with which he could turn his head to look around. The chilliness in the air was comparatively much harsher on this body than it had been on the cat's, but even his sight seemed to work exactly the same.

The only problem -- he couldn't tell where he was. He found himself in a dark, lightless place, yet his sight allowed him to see through it perfectly. He felt confined and hidden here and so very safe like in a nest. Smells of polished, worked wood came from everywhere but also of fresh produce. Apples, cabbages, carrots, onions, fish. And also something like... perfume?

Perfume and wooden surfaces made sense if his ladybug body was trapped inside one of Aomi's drawers and wardrobes. But the presence of fresh produce?

More than that, was this place... moving? Swaying and rocking all around him? The aggravating buzz and hum of Bound-animal engines on the background confounded him even further.

Where was he?

Nekohiko jolted to try and take a good look around. How different was a bug's body compared to a cat's? More legs and wings, that was for certain. But as long as he had legs, he doubted he'd encounter any severe issu--

He rolled out of whatever small basket he was in and plopped to the straw-filled crate full of apples. His entire length slapped against those apples, making him flinch in irritation. But he didn't stop there. Because the mysterious container he was in kept swaying all the while, he rolled off the apples next and never stopped tumbling down until he hit the absolute bottom of a large wooden confine. Such a familiar type of confine, too.

He knew these vibrations and this pattern of moving. This place had to be the locked storage section of a Bound vehicle! These were the most banal, widespread types of vehicles anywhere, so he could not be mistaken. An honest-to-heavens automated carriage of wood and animal heat and the smooth, gentle rocking of a manta-hovering mechanism. And he'd once glimpsed a carriage like that in the Red Stone estate's stables. Was it that?

But... how? And why was his body inside it?

And even that wasn't the most confusing -- or the most frightening thing that hit him.

He seemed to have quite a bit of length to his small ladybug body. Yet not nearly enough legs to support it with.

With horror, he contorted himself to peer at his feet and found... zero of them where they should be. Instead, a tail as long and as flexible and... scaly...

Oh Spirits! This could not be a mere ladybug...

He had the body of a snake? Since when? Since... why?!

There was only one possible explanation for that.

"Aomi," he wanted to growl but could only hiss it out even though Aomi's name had no sibilant sounds in it.

He thumped his head on the floor of the storage for the lack of paws to punch with, then gathered his thoughts trying to derive any pluses out of this bizarre situation.

A snake? He checked himself again and again. A snake. He hated snakes with passion but now that he was one himself, his slithery, scaly appearance no longer seemed as repulsive. Yet he hadn't expected this to happen, so he was at a loss of what to do with a snake body or how Aomi had managed to create it out of the small chunks and splinters she'd been stashing away all these weeks. And all this on top of the fact that he was in a moving vehicle going hell knew where and for whichever reasons.

Priorities.

Think, Nekohiko! Think.

If he had a snake body, it meant that somebody had crafted it. Obviously not Kataji, and likely not Aomi herself. So -- some carver and Binder in Sai. The produce and perfume scents filling the same storage as he was in weren't hard to deduce either: these were all things someone who was riding this carriage had bought in Sai and was now bringing back to Red Stone.

And with how stingy Auntie and Uncle had always been with their vehicles, Nekohiko was more than certain the old couple was the ones sitting in the passenger's seats above him right now.

...so, was it a safe bet to say these old Auntie and Uncle had been in Sai already? And had, therefore, heard about what happened to White Grove Inn and Daichi?

What do you think, dummy?

Oh shit, oh shit...

He clumsily began to slither, trying to find a way out of the storage. His motions mostly consisted of him biting the nearest basket edge and dragging his unwieldy snake body forward. A pretty sucky method to move. However, he just couldn't understand how actual snakes slithered. It was too complicated a skill and not enough time for him to master it!

"Hnngg," he growled at himself as he crawled up the apple basket, but all in vain.

With a terrible lurch that threw him almost back to the floor, the carriage stopped.

Nekohiko's dizzy sight gave him a headache as he forced himself to uncoil from the basket. The carriage was motionless and quiet, and because all the juddering and humming of the Bound mechanisms finally ceased, for the first time in here he could hear human voices outside the storage.

An old woman was weeping. And an old man was consoling her. A few of the younger female voices -- maidservants? -- bustled about and distracted the old woman from her grief.

This was the Red Stone estate. The carriage had already arrived at its destination. And had brought the news from Sai. Apparently.

"...it's so awful, so awful," Kataji's Auntie kept repeating.

"She might faint from the trip and the news," the Uncle was saying above her. "Quick, you and you. Carry her to the nearest lounge -- now!"

The maids erupted in a concerned swarm of comments and agreements as their footsteps jumbled about, shifting and shuffling. After a few moments, even that faded off into the distance as the old lady was being led away.

Nekohiko trembled whole, already getting used to the idea of having to escape the Red Stone. As a cat -- as a snake -- whatever! If he was found out and exposed as Daichi's murderer, then he would simply have no choice!

The storage hatch banged open and the searing sunset glow flooded over Nekohiko's crumpled body. He cowered, hiding his eyes from the glare.

He was grabbed almost immediately and pulled right out in the open air and the overwhelming red sunlight. A high girly squeal pierced his ears. "Yaaaay! Already found my surprise for you, didn't you?"

Spirits, he had no time for this. No time and no mental capacity.

Was he serious about his intentions to flee? Escape the Red Stone? Run from Aomi? Leave Kataji behind?

Damn it.

Kataji.

"Aomi," he rasped, hollow with apprehension. "Could you please carry me to Kataji? I need to... talk to him."

As usual, Aomi didn't pay him heed.

"Oh the way you whistle when you speak!" She did take him in her arms as though to carry him somewhere, for which he was immensely grateful. For her snuggling and squeezing him -- not so much. "Aren't you a beauty, Itssssu? I picked the most radiant black and reflective scales for your skin. Look how prettily they shimmer," she gushed, swinging Nekohiko's droopy, clumsy body over the water barrel she found by the stables. "See? Look in the water! Admire yourself, you're so gorgeous!"

Ache and regret wrenched him so completely, he couldn't even find the strength to cringe at his snake form. Even his frustration at being treated like a pet rather than a human being didn't matter to him now.

He felt colder and more dead inside than he'd ever been.

"Aomi, please. Take me to Kataji."

"You probably want to know how I made you and what I made you from, yes?" She whirled, fitting him on her shoulders like a scarf -- or the very next moment on her hair -- like a fancy ribbon. "So anyway, it's a long story, but--"

"Aomi. Sweetheart..." an old, weak voice rattled behind her. "You haven't heard yet?"

Out of the small house next to the stables, Aomi's and Kataji's Uncle staggered out, supported by one of the Auntie's many maids. The old man waved to Aomi to come closer. His liver-marked hand trembled. His entire creased old face glistened with fresh tears and reddened, marked with the old ones.

"Sweetheart, it's such terrible news..."

Even Aomi knew not to wave that off. Her hold on Nekohiko lightened and her everpresent smile slowly faded off her otherwise somber, big-eyed face.

"Uncle?" she asked in a small voice.

The old man sniffled and doddered, clutching the maid's strong arm with his tremoring hands. "We went to see Daichi in Sai today... to have him deliver our letters and packages to Okinaga and to Abi, but he--"

A sob broke out of his chest, and Aomi darted from her spot. She caught Uncle in her arms, staring at him without blinking.

"Master Daichi was found dead," the maid told her in a hushed tone. "Burned in his room."

"--along with a couple of other rooms in the building," another maid echoed from over the stables. All the maids looked horror-struck and distressed. "Tsk. What a hideous luck."

Without another word, Aomi embraced her Uncle and lay her head on his shoulder. A shiver passed through her spine -- Nekohiko felt it, even though Aomi was unbelievably quiet and restrained.

Then again, he'd never seen her grieve. He didn't know what that even looked like. He didn't want to see it.

Let alone be the primary cause of it.

He wanted to disappear, so terrible he felt.

"They even say it wasn't an accident," the first maid went on, barely audible. "The neighbors heard two voices talking before it all happened. And the scuffle. Someone had been in the room. Must have been."

Aomi slowly unwrapped herself from her Uncle's embrace. Mute, she looked up at the maid as if expecting her to say more. As if ordering, without a single word uttered.

The maid leaned over to her, eyes wide and bulging. "Old Lady just told us everything."

"Yes, yes, she did. It's so spooky," one of the others whispered from the back. "It had to be a ghost of some sort! Everything in the room burned completely to char!"

The maid by Aomi's side lifted a fist, trembling with tension. "Everything, but not all. Except for the thing inside Master Daichi's fist. Except for that one small thing. He must have protected it from the fire with his Binding powers before he died. He wanted people to find it even if nothing else remained. The only clue he left."

Nekohiko held on to Aomi with dear life but mostly because everything in him went numb with dread.

"It was a crumpled, torn-off tail of a small black animal," the maid muttered, grim.

Aomi stilled, but her eyes didn't. Suspicious, they trailed through the yard and past the garden in the direction of Kataji's workshop.