Chapter Twenty-Six — The Emperor and the Seashell
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ARC II

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Chapter Twenty-Six

The Emperor and the Seashell

 

Both Nekohiko the cat and Nekohiko the snake cuddled safe in the same small basket atop the necessities luggage Aomi had packed. Whenever he was occupying one body, the other was frozen in a rigid dumminess, cold and lifeless, which he loathed. As a snake, he had to have something warm near him to even feel alive and a stiffened cat dummy wasn't it. And as a cat, he had to snuggle near a snake of all things. And since he had always abhorred snakes...

Yep, he preferred to remain as a snake. He couldn't be repulsed by himself when he was embodying one, so it was all good. Sunlight was high and generous, so if he curled on top of the cat, stretching the majority of his body under the hit of the sun rays, he was even warm enough to not black out into a sleepy coma every other minute.

Not that there was anything interesting going on. The Line to Nara was leaving Sai millipede station in just a little over an incense stick time and Nekohiko had already been loaded into the compartment in which the three of them -- Kataji, Aomi, and Nekohiko -- would spend a couple of days within the shaking, juddering Line. The rest of the luggage along with Nekohiko's bigger log parts was stuffed in the back of the Line, so while he could feel all of his body pieces across the length of the vehicle, he couldn't tell exactly which part was which. Everything was squeezed so close together. So tight.

The snake and the cat were the only ones he could distinctly feel, so he dwelled in them. The passenger compartment's room was smooth, slick planes of metal undulating into a rounded shape. Seats and the small table on which people played cards during long journeys were wooden or fabric, allowing for some coziness in the full-metal casing of the Line's hallways. Above the table was a clear-lens window and Nekohiko slithered over to it to peer at the station and the people crowded outside.

The platform on which the Nara Line rested was buzzing. Sellers, passengers who departed, passengers who waited, and those who only now joined the Line. Kataji and Aomi's Great Aunt and Uncle were among them, checking that their restless wards looked decent and knew to behave on their long trip.

The Auntie occasionally patted her poor heart and lamented that nobody cared enough for it, both youngsters being all impulsive and wanting to travel and maybe even wanting to engage with some vulgar frivolities down in Nara. As all youngsters were wont to do.

Ah, her poor old heart.

In the distance, a couple of other Lines blackened as they slowly crawled in and out of the station -- one leaving for Utsuro Castle and the other arriving from Towa. Nekohiko'd distaste for snakes could easily be shared with anything long and crawly and slithery, so of course the passenger Lines made him shudder just as his own body did. Every Line was built for smooth travel on long distances. A caravan of sorts. As most transportation or mechanisms, their makers had borrowed their design from plants or animals. And what animal had a long, flexible body, was amazing on any terrain, easily-segmented into convenient compartments -- and also extremely fast?

A centipede. Or a millipede, no difference. The metal casing and the wooden core, the myriads of small, powerful feet for quick creeping down the roads, the ability to curl in while resting and forming a walled building for nighttime: perfect! So Lines quickly became the go-to long-distance transport and Line stations were in almost every city throughout the Empire. The only downside was that they needed a lot of fuel. And what fuel was that?

Animals. A lot of powerful animal cores sacrificed to the Lines on every station. Because removing animal heat and potential energy and strength from a live creature almost immediately rendered them useless and mostly dead. So the fuel-producing Binders also worked very close to butcheries. To optimize the waste. Obviously, the stench that the Line station emanated... And the unmistakable aura of death and torture that every Binder could feel even from afar...

Shuddering, indeed.

The whistle came from the front. The Binders that replenished the fuel tank in the Line were done. Nothing more to do around here. Nothing more to murder and kill. They would only need a quick purification ritual to rid the Line from resentful Spirits now and after that...

Go! At last! At the absolute last.

Nekohiko rolled into a spiral, so happy he felt. The last few days of packing for this journey had been such a drag, such a depressive mess. Of course, Kataji and Aomi were both very busy with their preparations -- but they were also wary, suspicious, and understandably dry around Nekohiko. At first, that put him in a foul mood, but then he told himself that it didn't need to.

Yes, the siblings were cranky and in their own way justified in distrusting him. But he had done nothing wrong, even if he couldn't tell them that without outright exposing himself and all his plans.

So what could he do other than accept their coldness? He'd never been scared of other people's detachment. In fact, he found it the most comfortable way of co-existing with others. He'd never been this grand, caring person -- and neither was he a family pet wanting to please and play around all day long.

So now, when he no more needed to pretend to be someone he wasn't -- actually, he even fancied this as an improvement. Be himself. Be left alone. And do not get attached to these people. Or any people. Ever.

Kataji came in through the slick black door and sat himself down in the seat. He didn't regard Nekohiko next to him -- his typical behavior lately -- and proceeded to take a book out of his bag and start reading. Aomi, on the other hand, was still in the hallway, waving at her Aunt and Uncle with exaggeration as the Line slowly began coming to "life". A clickety rumble coursed underneath the floor all along the Line's length. Its many legs slowly drew out from their sockets. They sunk into the ground, gaining dubious hold before attempting to lift the hefty body up. Balancing and shifting its weight to check if it moved correctly and safely.

This finally made Kataji peek up from his book. He leaned to the window to see up close how exactly the segment body parts of the millipede Line were contracting and expanding and which mechanisms reflected which jolting move. He even touched the line's wooden wall lovingly as it juddered under his touch.

"What a genius modeling," he whispered to himself.

Then became aware that Nekohiko was watching him. So back to his book, it was.

Kataji was dressed less theatrically than his sister who clearly wanted to look like the most stylish person on this Line with her a metal spike dress with koi pattern on it. But Kataji was also dressed to impress other travelers they would undoubtedly come across on the trip. People from such backside places as Sai always did it when going to the huge, central cities like Nara. Try to fit in and look amazing. Which only highlighted how backwater they truly were.

Dark and ascetic, crisp angles, stiff collars -- Kataji was cutting a dashing figure. His usual manner of haughtiness only added to the impression. Before, Nekohiko would think him adorable in his serious, pretentious image. But today he could only feel vague bitterness. When, rarely, Kataji's gaze trailed past him or met it outright, Nekohiko thought that Kataji could be plenty sinister.

Wasn't he the person who hurt him most on any given day? Yes, he was. Knives and needles and saws and hatchets, every day, for several hours at a time... Who wouldn't find such a person menacing?

Nekohiko turned back to the window to see how the landscape slowly began rolling by as the Line began its twitchy at first, but then gradually silkier movement. Auntie and Uncle waved, pressing their hands to their eyes to keep from crying. Kataji glanced at their blurry silhouettes disappearing beyond the window but refused to give them a wave of his own. All Nekohiko heard from him was an awkward gulp as Kataji kept his eyes glued to his book even as the Line stations completely vanished from sight.

Sai's quirky Bound buildings sailed by, giving way to the reddish cliffs along the shore, and finally to the trees when the Line moved away from the coast and found the main road down the Blue Forest.

The door slid open and closed again as Aomi slipped in. Her dress gleamed with all its small spikes and metallic surfaces and gave her a striking appearance only highlighted by her pale skin and heavy stare. She sat surly and quiet in the seat opposite Kataji, watching him with her dark, unreadable eyes.

Kataji turned a page and slowly crossed his legs.

Grimly, Aomi gazed at Nekohiko now.

Nekohiko stared out the window, only quaking a little from the unstoppable motion of the Line under him.

"Tea?" Aomi asked.

Kataji's barely perceptible shake of the head and another turn of the page. "No, thank you."

Then silence again.

Boy, would this be a long and painful journey.

The only thing that distracted him a bit from the monotony of the Line and the stifling awkwardness of the Abi siblings was that, a little after the noon rolled over, he felt being squeezed and poked somewhere far -- so far away -- that he almost cried out in alarm.

He had no idea his consciousness could reach such distances in such short times! But it did. This was the seashell Aomi had sent to Abihiko a week ago.

It had finally been touched.

The Line attendant had only just now served drinks and snacks to the compartment room, so Nekohiko left the busy table and went back to his basket. His paws shook. His fake heart thumped so loudly, he felt like being alive again and back in his own body.

Ah, was he so nervous... so excited... so scared! He was being touched by someone in Abihiko's Palace! He needed to see by whom... he couldn't help but pant in the wild hope that it was Abihiko himself.

Was his entire reason for existence already so close to him? He would finally have a direct connection to his murderer, to his betrayer, to his future prey!

He settled down in the basket, gave one final glance to the two siblings who were picking up their chopsticks, sullenly readying for their lunch, then he shut his eyes. And switched his awareness over to the seashell.

It astounded him that transporting his consciousness from so far away still took next to no time.

He was being touched here. In passing, without care. The sensation that came to him first in his seashell form was the loud noise of paper scratching all over him.

Yes, he was being taken out of his paper wrap into which Aomi had put him. Parts of his that were pierced with golden chains and silk thread tickled him, the cord on which his shell body was suspended irritating as it slowly untangled from around him. The fancy black paper cover finally shuffled off and with that--

Came blinding, searing light.

And voices -- first muffled, now streaming from all sides.

An old man was laughing, saying something so inconsequential about brooms and dusters that Nekohiko immediately slumped in his mind.

A servant, talking to another servant, and so freely? He had little doubt that Abihiko was nowhere near these people. No servant would dare to behave like this in front of the Supreme Divine Emperor himself.

In his pained sight, the picture of the enormous, sunlight-drowned room drew into focus. His position was slightly uncomfortable, on his side, so he didn't see everything. But he saw the carved, intricate ceiling made of gentle green jade and the face of a preoccupied middle-aged woman who was ruffling papers close beside him.

What a bossy face she had. She popped an eyebrow and lifted to her eyes a letter tied with red tassels.

"Be careful. These came from His Supreme Divine Majesty's little siblings," she said to someone on the side, then propped the edge of a big wooden panel to look at its back side. "Seems harmless to me. But just in case, have Rokuro examine these for malevolent spells and alchemic substances."

Ah, yes. No item from outside the Palace could easily get to the Emperor's hands unless investigated for hours prior. How many hours would that even take? Nekohiko couldn't help his dejection.

He'd thought he would already see Abihiko in person. But of course not. And with so many safety precautions surrounding the Emperor's persona, how would Nekohiko ever get close enough to kill him was an even greater concern. Now that he thought about it, he wondered if Aomi and Kataji would be allowed near him. And if they would, then if the two cranky adolescents would take Nekohiko with them. Because, really, with how suspicious they were of him now, he didn't believe they would invite him to hang out with their Eldest Brother for no reason.

Damn, this was getting so frustrating!

"Lady Kakari?" a whispery, sheepish voice called the bossy woman who unpacked the Emperor's mail.

Nekohiko's ears perked up. The sound of that mellow female voice was bizarrely familiar to him, even though he couldn't put his finger on why.

Lady Kakari grunted, turning. Only when she saw who called her did her lips split in a sunny smile. "Oh Lady Hisome, dear, sorry! But there's still nothing..."

The voice dropped even lower. "Still no message from my Cousin?"

Lady Kakari tilted her head in commiseration. "I'm sorry, dear. I'll have it brought to you the moment it comes."

"If it comes," the person called Lady Hisome replied vaguely. She let out a sigh. "Thank you anyway. Sorry to bother you."

"Ah, not at all, dear."

...Lady Hisome?

Nekohiko desperately wanted to look away from Kakari woman and to the spot from which the whispery voice was coming. No wonder it sounded so familiar to him! The only Lady Hisome that existed in this time could be two people. One would be the wife of Morokata, which was impossible since in all the recent political records Nekohiko had read, Morokata was still unmarried. And besides that, Morokata was no longer called Lord of the Mists. He was the King of the Mists now. His wife -- whoever that might be -- was surely not going to be called a measly "lady".

And the second person by that title could only be... little Sakami! That Hisome girl he had pushed once in his childhood back in Izumo! Or, not so little anymore. Like Abihiko, she had to be around twenty, right? So fascinating, to meet her here of all places.

Wait, he thought. This wasn't just fascinating. It was odd.

What would she be even doing here? Sakami, in the Emerald Palace? Asking Abihiko's servants about the mail she was receiving from her Cousin? And since she only had one cousin, there could be no doubt about who that was? She was exchanging letters with Morokata from within the Emerald Palace? How come? Did she... live here?

And if so, then why?

Nothing significant was happening in that mailroom afterward other than people probing and rubbing Nekohiko's seashell body as they checked him for harmful substances, so he got the hell out of there faster than a cat sneezes. And as soon as he did, the compartment in the Line to Nara greeted him with another perfect display of the concept of "this is painfully intense".

He didn't know which pain was worse -- being scratched by someone's nails repeatedly, or having to endure Kataji and Aomi being passive-aggressive toward each other and him.

He let out a crushed sigh.

Immediately, both Aomi and Kataji threw him a look.

"Your book is upside down," Nekohiko told the young man just to relieve the tension. The book was fine. But the fact that Kataji visibly panicked for a second told Nekohiko he hadn't actually been as absorbed in it as he was acting and might even be faking reading in the first place.

With a crack, Kataji closed his book and folded his arms on his chest, not letting his eyes stray away from Nekohiko's. "Do you want to work on another detail carving?" he asked.

Nekohiko suppressed a wince. They had to carve and cut every day if they wanted to make him a body anytime soon but the way Kataji was saying this...

He wasn't actually enjoying slicing Nekohiko up, was he?

"I don't want to distract you from something as important as your book with my body," he began.

Kataji flexed his jaw. "Your body is not at all distracting to me. I'm as free as I'll ever be."

"Then of course. As it pleases you."

One of Kataji's eyebrows arched with a flourish. "Only if it pleases you."

... Nekohiko twitched his ears back and forth, somehow feeling severely bullied. "It does please me to please you, greatly."

But Kataji wasn't dismayed in the slightest. "Oh, the pleasure is all mine, trust me."

"All right, you two are annoying." Aomi slid down her seat without any grace her majestic dress displayed. "How long is this trip going to goooo?" When nobody answered her, still continuing their staring match, she sat up and swiveled her head to find any sort of a time-measuring device in the compartment. "Seriously, how far away are we yet?"

"Two more days," Kataji answered, annoyed. He squinted into the darkening sky in the window, then nodded her at the seat cushions on the floor. "You can set up your bed and go to sleep. Time will go by faster."

"But it's not even night yet!"

Nekohiko abandoned their petty little spat to go check his seashell form in Nara because another change of his body position there made him perk up in expectation.

But it was only another servant, now a young girl, who was hanging him by his cord on top of a letterbox lid. She smiled and cocked her head to the side to see if he was hanging prettily and hummed a song under her breath. Diligently, she then put into the letter box all the letters Abihiko had received this morning -- which were a ton and a half! Seriously, how much time does the Emperor even have to sort through all of these without any help? Nekohiko had received diplomatic and advisory letters from all the Great Lords in his day as well, but most of those could be easily pushed onto someone else to sift through, giving him only the barest concentrate of their meanings.

Were all these Abihiko's letters so personal he couldn't order someone else to read them?

For a moment, Nekohiko even felt pity for the Emperor's nonexistent free time. But how could he pity his murderer? He decided he was reveling in the idea instead.

Ha, had Abihiko seriously believed being an Emperor was an easy job? Not only did he essentially lose the entire Empire in just five years, he also was swamped with chores and diplomatic issues, it seemed.

Oh, let him have it. The bureaucratic hell. The torture of it all.

The room he was brought into on the letterbox turned out to have so many chambers inside it, nested one within the other, he was certain these were the private Emperor's quarters. He couldn't see the bed from his current position on some darkwood polished desk beside a painted silvery screen, but he saw clearly the walls of rich emerald and the flowy curtains of spidersilk in the most elegant gilded tracery hanging off the ceiling. The lanterns within the corners of the room glowed majestic green while the limpid sunlight from the enormous window in the adjacent room caressed him with the warm yellows.

This could have been Nekohiko's own room, eh? Not bad, if a bit too opulent for his tastes. But as he'd been told countless times by the great Lords -- opulence of the royalty has nothing to do with taste or personal appeal. Only with the intimidation factor. Only with impressing those who were inferior.

This room was plenty intimidating. Echoing, somehow cold, and so impossibly big. Three doorways led from it as Nekohiko could see from his restricted vantage point. One led to where the maid had brought him through -- the outer chambers. The other doorway let to the side, from which rare sounds of dripping water came and where Nekohiko could see ripples of marbled light dance upon the ceiling. Water room, was it? Judging by the sound, it was gigantic as well, and the body of water it contained must have been the size of a pool.

So wasteful. Speaking of which -- the last doorway was opposite the water room. And it was closed. Sealed. A great bronze door was carved in the wall, the cross-shaped handle in its center clearly that of a shut vault. A vault of this size in the Emperor's chambers and not in the treasury was incredibly wasteful, too. Nekohiko couldn't avoid scoffing.

Abihiko had always been such a garish bastard. How much time did he have to wait to finally lay his hands on that monster and make him pay for everything he'd done?

Too much, probably. The room stood empty and eerie after the maid left it. And Nekohiko again had to return to his cat body.

Argh, but he suffered so much from waiting! The Line was going on slow, and the night was already here, yet nothing of note was happening! Too aggravated by the Line and people there, he constantly jumped in between his many bodies just to see if something interesting was going on elsewhere. And really, this jittery, frustrated anticipation was only driving his nerves up.

When?

When would he come? Where was he? It was already past midnight in the Line -- the Line had stopped some time ago and curled itself into a spiky, protective metallic citadel of a centipede for spending the night. Both Kataji and even Aomi were long asleep!

So where the hell was he!

Where was Abihiko?!

Nekohiko focused his mind solely within his seashell form, so panicked he felt that he would miss him if Abihiko came but went straight to bed without paying Nekohiko any attention. But Abihiko wasn't here. Maybe, he wouldn't come to his room at all? Was he sleeping somewhere else? In someone else's bed, perchance?

Oh, but of course he would be. Didn't Nekohiko know him and his habits best? That absolute vain, traitorous, lecherous, vile--

The doors opened somewhere deep within the echoing chambers. Nekohiko had begun dozing off due to boredom and only now snapped awake.

Several strands of agitated voices mumbled something from afar but one single powerful voice cut them all off.

"I'll see to it," that voice said. "I'll prepare the first draft before the morning."

A fawning wave of apologies, good-nights, and admirations erupted, but Nekohiko hardly heard any of those. He only cared that the door on all of them closed.

Now footsteps sounded stark and steady as someone walked through the long halls. A raindrop-soft patter of many softer footsteps followed them close behind: Bound Servants. Obviously, the Emperor had to have many catering to his wishes. There should only be one person who could stroll through these rooms with such oblivious swagger and be surrounded by so many dummies as he did.

Nekohiko stared and stared, painted eyes all but burning trained on the arched doorway of the room. Then, with the soft flicker of the curtains--

A tall man walked in. Nekohiko couldn't see his features yet because the man's face was downturned, scanning the bamboo scroll he had in one of his hands. But the emerald-and-gold crownlet at the top of the man's long hair could not be anything other than the Emperor's crown.

Nekohiko's own.

The man had dark-green robes on, the long folds swooshing over the floor, his wide sleeves swaying with tassels and beaded emeralds after each of his moves. As he entered the room, he didn't care to look around. Matter-of-factly, he threw the scroll onto the nearest table and walked straight to the vault door. Something akin to a metallic teapot glinted dully in his other hand. Nekohiko's attention fixed on it, bewildered.

The thing seemed full and Abihiko was handling it with great care.

The Bound dummies behind him were indeed many. Humanoid maids, insect-like porters, spidery clothing bearers. But as soon as one of them peeked inside this room to follow its master, Abihiko turned to it, displeased.

Nekohiko could understand why. Abihiko had begun opening the vault door. There was some sort of a number code involved in that and he clearly didn't want anyone -- including the dummies -- to see what the combination was.

Too bad Nekohiko had already seen the first two numbers.

"Go prepare the bath," Abihiko threw at the two closest dummies, then nodded the rest of them to disperse.

Only after they did, could he feel safe enough to go on with his vault numbers. Hushed, absorbed, Nekohiko followed each of his small motions on the door handle. If this vault was so important to Abihiko, chances were this vault would be very important to Nekohiko's revenge plan as well.

If only he was positioned in such a way that he could see inside it, too!

Yet the door groaned, sliding open only a narrow crack enough for one person to slip through. In the room's general intimate darkness, Nekohiko thought he wouldn't be able to see anything within the vault at all. But instead...

Out of the vault, the most mellow, buttery-sunny light poured.

Nekohiko hadn't yet had the chance to see Abihiko's face or even his appearance other than the vague outline of his hair and clothes -- so he tensed up, hoping to see him now that this luminous glow was shining upon him.

But it was simply too bright. The only thing Nekohiko could see was the impression of a smile suddenly opening up on Abihiko's lips as he peered inside the vault. And nothing else.

Abihiko smiled, then almost immediately stepped in. But Nekohiko heard, distinctly and bafflingly.

Abihiko let out a tired yet serene sigh.

"Hello, dear Neko," he told something inside the vault. "Did you miss me?"

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