Chapter 17

Chapter 17

That night, the tears came.

Andria lay in her new bed, in new clothes, and struggled to process all of her very new emotions. So much had changed in one single day, she was certain she was experiencing shock. It all felt so dream-like, so impossible that everything about her, right down to her species, wasn’t what she thought it had been. She was almost sure she was dreaming. And yet, something deep down in the pit of her stomach savored of satisfaction.

She could hide from the truth all she wanted, but she would always be lying to herself. Despite what it made her, how horrible of a child to her parents she had suddenly become, Andria felt relief. She felt excitement. She felt fulfilled. The gaping, persistent question of her future had suddenly been answered. All of her obligations from the past were suddenly gone, to school, to society, to her family. She felt as though she were starting over, given a whole new life free from the bounds of human culture, to make with it what she willed.

But what of Kazi’s plan? Undisputable evidence, he had said. How could one produce undisputable evidence of a death without a body? How was Kazi planning to pull that one off? It wasn’t as though he could just kill another girl with similar features and try to pass her off for Andria. Despite the obvious rarity of such girls in Japan, DNA testing, which her parents would demand, would quickly disprove a false identity claim; however, if what she was to understand was true, Kazi had command over all Dragons in Japan. Andria had little doubt that Kazi could employ a few in offices of power to stage some display of overwhelming evidence. She could see it now: remains would be found floating near some shore of Towada, or half-devoured in the woods. DNA tests would come back, forged, with a positive I.D. on a young American female logged in the missing person’s database. Murder. Accident. Who could know? But after the initial press coverage grew stale, and debates over tax increases and unemployment rates resumed, she would quickly be forgotten. Her parents….

Andria tossed uncomfortably in her bed, still trying vainly to suppress these very troubling thoughts. Think only of tomorrow, she told herself, unable to think of simply nothing. Tomorrow. What lay in store for Andria tomorrow? What had Kazi said? Training. Of course. He had emphasized that her training must begin as soon as possible. He had told her they would begin to incorporate her into their society. A new society, she wondered, with new rules and expectancies. She felt a bit of unease. Freeing herself from human rules and expectations was comforting, but only so long as the rules to follow in its stead were easier to adhere too. At that point, she had no way of knowing. But she would be like a princess, now, right? Andria recalled all the princesses from her childhood fairytales with fondness, remembered wishing she, too, were a princess, complete with a castle, fortune, fairy godmother, and handsome prince; however, thinking this, she also couldn’t help remembering how misinterpreted the Dragons in those stories had been, as well. At any rate, those were human princesses. Andria would merely have to wait and see for herself whether being a Dragon princess compared.

Tomorrow.

As discussed, her parents would be dealt with tomorrow. Andria’s stomach lurched at the remembrance of her conversation with Kazi, how she had nodded in cold-hearted ascent and given him consent to break her parents’ hearts. He hadn’t given her specifics, only an assurance that the matter would be put to a firm resolution. Honestly, she didn’t want to know. It wasn’t important. The only thing that mattered was that by tomorrow evening, her family ties would be broken. Perhaps this is what made her cry. Part of not belonging to the human world anymore meant not having human parents. And she, orphaned by her only Dragon relation, as well, had to come to terms with the reality that not only was she abandoning human society and her human relations, but any and all family ties. She was abandoning her childhood, her innocence, her dependence on other, wiser beings and donning a persona of independence.

What was it that Kazi had told her? Her mind flicked back to their conversation.

“Do not believe that you will be alone in this world, Andria,” he had crooned, sympathetic to her childish tears. “Our kind sticks together. We are a very close-knit family, indeed.”

“What,” she had sniveled bitterly, “about Yuta? You and he didn’t seem very close-knit to me.”

Kazi frowned deeply. “We may be a more socially advanced Race,” Kazi began, with obvious distaste for the direction the conversation was heading, “but we are not without our emotional shortcomings. Yuta Odashima left our clan voluntarily. He himself made a horrendous mistake, committed a very serious crime, but rather than accept the consequences and return to his family, he chose self-banishment. Despite my own advisement, the Lords voted to allow him to leave, to become an outcast, without a clan, without a family.”

“What did he do?” Andria asked.

Kazi considered her for a long moment, her eyes wide with curiosity, her lips parted slightly like a dog waiting impatiently for table scraps. “That,” Kazi eventually stated, his voice resonating decisively, “is not a conversation for today.”

Andria’s face fell, but she had let the matter drop.

Now, tossing about in her large, spacious bed, she felt very ill at ease. Could she trust Kazi’s assurances? What if being part of a family of Dragons was similar to being part of a family of wolves? She had no way of knowing. The only Dragon she had ever knowingly lived with was a very solitary being who acted surprisingly human. There was also her mother, with whom she had shared the first four years of her life and who had carried on the facade of normal, happy marriage with a normal, happy human for several years prior. She had behaved human enough to fool everyone around her. Could she expect the same from the other Dragons she had seen in the Grand Hall? Or would they all lumber around in their 40-50ft Dragon Forms, always shoving her aside, taking first picks of all the food, perhaps accidently stepping on her on occasion. Andria gulped. And what did they eat? Yuta had eaten very little while they were living together, more often than not, skipping meals entirely. Her stomach turned at the thought of one of the older, female Dragons dragging home their latest kill. She almost retched as she envisioned the herd of Dragons squabbling over the most tender bits of a freshly killed sheep, looking back at her expectantly as though they thought she might join in.

She had to quit thinking, had to focus on sleep. Kazi had warned that it would be an early morning the next day. Think of pleasant things, she told herself. Her mind flashed back to a scene of Christmas two years prior, her youngest cousin wearing a toddler-sized costume of a gingerbread man while Andria’s father bounced him happily on his knee. No. No, that wouldn’t do. Try another, she told herself. At once, she was holding a knife, cutting into a two-tiered pink cake. Cheers resounded all around her as she took in the faces of several of her closest friends beyond the glow of a plastic candle shaped like the number sixteen.

Andria snarled impatiently, taking a pillow and throwing it forcefully over her face.

Yuta. His face swam before her eyes, sad and serious. Would she ever see that face again in life? Then again, did she really want to?

Yes. The answer came not from her head, but as a strong objection from the pit of her gut. Of course she did. But what if it was true? What if Kazi was right, and Yuta was, in fact a criminal, a murderer? What if he truly was a monster?

 

*          *          *          *          *         

 

Yuta heard the lock on the door click.

He had spent the past four hours in silence. No visitors, his Messenger bound who-knew-where, only his own thoughts to occupy him, and he had quickly grown tired of those. The heavy door swung open, flooding the room with light from the hallway. Yuta flinched as a series of artificial lights overhead sprang to life and started burning with bright indifference.

The door slammed shut. Yuta’s eyes adjusted to find Kazi standing on the opposite end of the large room. An instinctive burst of adrenaline coursed through Yuta’s human veins. His hands clenched into fists, but he made no move to get up.

“I see,” began Kazi, looking around at the walls and low ceiling, “that your accommodations are proving to be quite adequate.” He smiled maliciously.

For the first time, Yuta tore his eyes away from Kazi to get a clear look at his prison cell in proper lighting. The stone comprising the cell’s interior was covered in a heavy, luminous gloss. Shallow rivets were slashed into the surface at random points, in parallel rows of three. Scratch marks. Needless to say, Yuta’s previous attempts at escape had proven rather unsuccessful, and now he knew why.

“It was somewhat difficult,” Kazi explained, “to design a holding cell for you, not knowing the full extent of your abilities.” Kazi motioned to the walls, his chest puffed out proudly. “We eventually decided that the only suitable material would have to be synthetic.”

“Plastic,” Yuta spat. And so, they had found his kryptonite.

“Even then,” Kazi continued, “We couldn’t be 100% sure. That gift you have is quite rare, indeed. It is believed that only one Dragon at a time can possess that particular ability. Why the gods chose you, I cannot say, but it wouldn’t be their first mistake.”

“Blasphemy,” Yuta hissed. Kazi ignored him and continued, “One can only wonder who it will go to once you are dead.”

Silence fell over the room like the fall of a gavel. After a moment, Kazi chuckled. “Yuta Odashima,” he mused aloud, “finally brought to justice.” He seemed to savor the feel of the words on his lips as he spoke them. Then, correcting his posture and donning his regal façade, Kazi continued, “I have come on behalf of the Assembly, under the authority of my position as King of the Race of Eastern Asia, to deliver your sentence.”

Yuta made no acknowledgment. Kazi was not his king. “After careful review of the evidence brought against you-“ Yuta scoffed; Kazi ignored him and continued, “you have been found guilty of the murder of a civilian Messenger, forty-six counts of homicide, and endangerment of the Race as a whole.” At Andria’s request, Kazi had dropped the charge of kidnap, but could not omit the fact that in drawing the attention of the press to his actions, Yuta had made himself vulnerable to discovery, thus making the Race vulnerable. Kazi licked his lips, waiting for Yuta’s enraged objection. Yuta, however, said nothing. Guilty, as suspected, Kazi thought. Confident in his position and the justness of his decision, Kazi went on, “Your sentence, Yuta Odashima, is as follows: At a time to be later disclosed, but not exceeding twelve weeks from the present, both you and your Messenger will be put to death by means of beheading under the witness of the Assembly and those members of the Race directly associated with your victims. What have you to say, Yuta Odashima?” Kazi concluded regally.

Yuta said nothing. He didn’t look at Kazi once during his speech and would not look at him now. The truth was that nothing Kazi said was very surprising to Yuta. He had had plenty of time to contemplate this exact encounter over the past 100 years. Admittedly, the charges he faced were different than what he had been expecting, but Andria’s involvement in his life had changed many things in the short time they had known each other.

“Have you any requests?” Kazi offered indifferently. Were it up to him, and not standard protocol to consider the wills of sentenced captives, Kazi would never have offered the traitor Yuta any comfort or convenience in his final days. Kazi, after all, had not been given such consideration when Yuta had stolen away his Mate and his Queen, leaving Kazi broken, with only half a soul to speak of.

“Andria,” Yuta muttered. This took Kazi somewhat by surprise. “I don’t want her to watch.” Still, Yuta refused to meet Kazi’s critical gaze.

Kazi eyed him suspiciously. There was no concealing his loathing. What was it he shared with her, anyway? Why were they so protective of each other? It made him grimace to hear him speak of Andria with such tenderness. “That,” Kazi spat, “will be Andria’s decision ultimately. Having been victimized by your actions, we cannot keep her from watching, if that is her desire; however,” Kazi added with an air of annoyance for his own bleeding heart, “I will inform Andria of your wishes so that she can consider them when making her decision.”

Strangely, Yuta felt at ease. She wouldn’t want to watch. She was too innocent, too shielded from the horrors of the world to willingly witness an execution. He merely needed reassurance that Kazi would not force her to be present.

“How is she?” Yuta ventured meekly. Many of his thoughts over the past several hours had been of her.

Kazi glowered, his lips pulling back in an unattractive snarl. Without answering, Kazi turned abruptly, his robes swishing behind him in a flourish, and stormed from the room. Yuta heard the door slam and knew that Kazi would not be returning to him tonight, perhaps not at all until the day of his execution.

Yuta was uneasy only in how comfortable he felt with the thought of his own death. Much of his life he had spent avoiding Kazi, avoiding death. Then, Andria had fallen into the picture and had given him a reason to start taking risks again. Yuta remembered the easy life he had seemed to enjoy before he had met her. He spent his days alone, only Yenko for company, no other Dragons, no one of his kind with whom he could share the burden of his Race’s secret. Perhaps this, too, had played a part in why he had chosen to keep her as a contented captive. Much like a dog, he realized with an air of self-loathing. He could only hope that this was not how she perceived him, only pray that she had not yet been convinced to hate Yuta as Kazi did. He recalled that afternoon, when Andria had accused him of using her, her eyes cold, filled with disgust. He didn’t know if he could bear to have her look at him that way again. He would welcome death with open arms in that very moment rather than live to know Andria’s hatred.

 

*          *          *          *          *

The path to the shrine was well-trodden. For the past fourteen years, Kazi had made the same lumbering footfalls, in the same exact route, so much so that the woods through which the path was cut was almost completely void of wildlife. Not that he would take the time to chase any of these woodland critters should they grow foolish enough to present themselves. Not when he was on his way to see her.

He was her guardian, her silent protector, a task charged to him directly by the goddess Kitsune over a decade prior. He had done his job well, he thought, stalking her house carefully under cover of shadows, and then keeping guard hidden amongst the trees once she had begun living in the shrine. While he guarded her, he observed. He remembered his first episode of shock when the young human child had suddenly transformed into a Dragon. It had happened there, at the shrine. Kazi had never seen anything like it before. What purpose she was meant to serve, however, he could not know. On this point, Kitsune had remained mum.

From that day, Kazi could never be sure what Form he would find her in, sometimes human, sometimes Dragon. Often, she noticed him watching her. She would always greet him with an affectionate smile. “Pochi,” she called him, like a house pet. He, of course, could not communicate with her, directly forbidden by Kitsune; however, she passed much time calling to him, speaking to him, telling him stories absently while she cooked or washed clothes. He felt odd when she insisted on doing this. Despite the part of her he knew was Dragon, it was unusual for a human not to run in horror when they saw him.

Kazi came upon the clearing and peered through the tree-line with cautious suspicion. He was in bodyguard mode, and nothing would distract him from his god-charged task.

He didn’t immediately see Sakura. Usually she was sitting outside, reading or cooking at the fire pit. Thinking she might have ventured up to the onsen earlier than usual, he turned to leave.

“Pochi!” a voice shouted. Her voice. Kazi scanned the courtyard again, and finally found her. She was on the roof of one of the larger shrines. Kazi’s heart lurched violently with paternal dread. Before he had time to fully consider what he was doing, Kazi’s wings flared, shooting from his back with the metallic clamor of a sword being hastily unsheathed. In a matter of two seconds, Kazi was airborne. His claws gingerly, but deliberately, descended upon the kimono of his human cub, lifting her from the roof.

Kazi ignored her screams of “Hey!” and refused to release her from his powerful grip until he had safely placed her on the ground.

Once free of his talons’ powerful grasp, she stumbled away from him, flustered. She angrily patted down her robes, looking from the 6-foot, blood red Dragon to the roof she had just been involuntarily retrieved from. “I wasn’t done yet!” she spat indignantly.

The tone of her voice hit him like a smack in the face. Done?

“Now,” she huffed, “the rain is going to come, and I’ll still have a hole in my roof.” She sighed heavily, but after a moment, grew calm. Kazi stared at her with remorse, seated in a retreated, abused position. He didn’t know if he should skulk back into the safety of the trees, or stay and accept more of her scolding.

“I suppose,” she sighed, after a long moment, “that you had good intentions, right?”

Kazi made no response, but continued to sit and stare with a shamed expression on his red, reptilian face.

“I’m not angry, you know,” she assured him with a tone that might have suggested otherwise. “Just,” she continued, glancing back at the roof, “annoyed.”

Then, without warning, Sakura closed the space between them and threw her arms around his scaly neck.

Surprised and wholly unfamiliar with the gesture, Kazi quickly tore away from Sakura’s embrace and scuttled frantically ten or so feet away.

Sakura looked hurt for a moment, which when Kazi noticed, made him feel even more ashamed. What had she meant by grabbing hold of him, anyway?

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly, an upsetting quietness to her now-quivering voice. Sadness? “It’s just, I’m so lonely, and you’ve been my friend for so long. You’re always watching me, protecting me, listening. You’re the only one who hasn’t left me yet.” A tear trickled silently down her cheek. “I love you so much. I just wish sometimes that you could understand me better. Sometimes I wish you were human.”

In that moment, a searing pain gripped Kazi, unlike anything he had ever felt. A bellowing roar of agony escaped him.

“Pochi!” Sakura wailed.

Kazi sank to the ground, doubled over in overwhelming pain. Each of his thousands of scales started sinking like knives into his flesh until all that was left was ugly pale skin. His bones snapped with sickening cracks, distorting and re-mending themselves into new shapes. He thought he might faint, or that he might die from the sheer agony that consumed him.

“Pochi!” Sakura’s shrill scream resonated. Her frantic, concern-etched face swam in and out of focus before him.

Then, as abruptly as the pain had set upon him, it was gone.

Kazi gasped, his breathing frantic, heart throbbing wildly as he stared up into Sakura’s tear-stained face from the flat of his back. Her eyes danced wildly with shock and awe. “Pochi,” she managed to whisper.

He felt her hand on his cheek. Warmth, he noted with confusion. Her hands were warm. Hesitantly, Kazi lifted one of his claws to remove her hand from his face. His hand closed around hers, and he was immediately shocked that hers seemed so large in his. And so warm!

Dizzy and strangely exhausted, Kazi lifted his other claw and waved it before his own eyes; however, his claw was no longer a claw. Rather, a fleshy human hand waved back at him.

As another wave of terrified, horrific shock began to wash over him, he looked amazed into Sakura’s large, concerned eyes.

“Pochi.”

 

Knock, knock, knock.

Kazi lurched suddenly from sleep, staring groggily around his room.

Knock, knock, knock, the persistent noise-maker insisted. “Lord Kazi?” a woman’s voice inquired through the door. “It is morning,” the voice loudly informed. “You are waited upon.”

Kazi groaned and rolled over lazily on his futon, longing to return to his dream, trying to recapture that last glimpse of Sakura’s eyes. Alas, it was no use. She was gone.

Knock, knock, knock.

With an aggrieved sigh, Kazi stood up from his floor-level bed and threw a robe around his shoulders. Indeed it was time. Time to begin the day’s proceedings. Time to begin teaching a new Dragon, a new princess, he remembered. Time, again, to rejoin reality and begin yet another day in which Sakura no longer existed.