Spellbound
*(5/6)
By Sakata Ri Houjun
 
*******************
 
Genrou woke, alone.  For a moment, he thought it had
all been another one of his dreams.  The beautiful
cerulean-haired man, the ruined temple, the globe that
held the power of a god.  A hallucination brought on
by fatigue.
 
But he recognized the room and got out of bed as the
sun streamed in.
 
Was it you, or another, he made love to in the night? 
Genrou’s eyes went dark as the voice whispered slyly
in his head.  He called another’s name.  Believes you
to fill the place of his dead lover and has lured you
here. 
 
The room was suddenly airless.  He reached blindly for
the door, found only swirling air.
 
He has you trapped here.  He will use you to gain what
he wants.   Who will you be when this is finished?
 
Genrou yanked open the door and stumbled out,
trembling all over.  Something cold and smelling of
death had crowded into that room.
 
Damn imagination running away with me, he thought. 
Whose wouldn’t, under these circumstances?  He went to
find Houjun.
 
He was writing.  His hands were graceful, his movement
precise as he wrote one character after another on the
paper.  Genrou’s suddenly found himself wanting his
camera.  And him.
 
Houjun looked up and smiled.  “Did you finally decide
to join the living, no da?”
 
“Is it late?”
 
He laughed as he stood and kissed him lightly.  “Half
past-ten, demo you always were a late sleeper, na no
da.”
 
Looking serious, then, Genrou asked, “Did I choose to
come here, Houjun, or did you?”
 
He has lured you here.  He will use you to gain what
he wants.
 
“Did I choose for you to be here, no da?  I-is that
what you think?  After all I’ve told you?”
 
“Just answer the damn question.”
 
Houjun’s heart wept in despair.  Genrou was looking at
him with none of the love he needed.  “No, Genrou, I
did not force you to come here.  If that had been in
my power, would I have waited so long for you?  I
asked you to come, but the choice was yours.
 
“You broke my heart when you shut me out.  That choice
was yours also, for the knowledge was in your heart. 
I was born loving you.  There’s been no other in my
heart.  Everything I am, or was, or will be, is yours.
 I cannot change my heart.”
 
Turning, Houjun bolted from the room, tears stinging
his eyes.  Genrou went after him but found no trace of
the older man outside.  Houjun told him that he loved
him.  But leaving before he had a chance to examine
his own heart?  Houjun expected too much.  Wanted too
much.
 
Then he turned and stared at the temple.  And knew. 
“All right, damn it,” he muttered as he strode toward
the ruins.  “No magic, no legends.  We’re going to
talk this thing through.”
 
He stepped toward the arch and was stopped by a
transparent shield that blocked him.
 
“What kind of fucking game is this?”  Eyes narrowed,
he drove his shoulder against it; it yielded nothing. 
He circled the temple, testing each opening.
 
“Houjun!”  He pounded the air with his fists until
they ached.  “Let me the fuck in!”
 
From that high parapet, Houjun faced the distant
mountains.  He heard Genrou call for him.  But his
decision was made.
 
He couldn’t tell the younger man that his life was
lost if by the hour of midnight he had not vowed his
love.  He had done all he could and Tasuki was never
coming back to him.  At least Genrou would be
protected, his lover spared, and the shinzaho would be
sealed away. 
 
Mikuni didn’t know how strong his will was.  Didn’t
know that that he carried a powder of poison with him.
 If his love did not triumph, he would end his life
again.  Houjun had only hours now to gather his ki. 
He began the chant.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Genrou backed away.  “Go on and sulk then,” he shouted
as he stalked back to the dwelling.
 
He shoved open the bedroom door, reached for his
camera.  Under it was a leather garment.
 
“That wasn’t here before,” he muttered.  Gingerly he
picked up the wide strip of soft leather, dyed gold
and crafted with an intricate design.  He thought at
first it was a strange belt, but something told him
otherwise.
 
He buckled the garment across his chest, crossing
diagonal from one shoulder.  It fit perfectly.  As he
started to remove it, he thought he heard a voice
whispering.
 
A gift.  Only a gift.
 
“I look like a damn baka, but the hell with it,” he
muttered and, snatching up his camera, he went
outside.
 
Wandering the hills, he ran through roll after roll of
film.  Spending the morning thus had settled his mood.
 It was time to go back and find Houjun.
 
Suddenly a flash of white caught his eye.  Houjun’s
cat stood at the edge of the forest-his slanted eyes
beckoning him to follow.  Genrou took a step forward,
and then swore lightly when the cat whirled away with
impossible speed into the woods.
 
Genrou dived after it, following the sounds as it
crashed through the brush.  Surprisingly, he was able
to keep up with the cat’s blistering pace.  Then there
was silence.
 
The sun burned like a furnace though the sheltering
leaves.  Desperate for relief, he knelt by a brook.
 
He reached down to cup some water in his hand, and
pulled back a cup of coffee.
 
“Do you good to get away for a few days.”
 
“Nani?”  He stared down at the mug in his hands, and
then looked up into his mother’s face.
 
“Here now, he needs some water, not caffeine,” said
his father.  And water ran out of the kitchen faucet
into a glass.
 
Genrou sipped the water, shuddered.  “I had the most
bizarre fucking dream.”
 
“Daijobu,” his mother said.  “Everyone has dreams. 
You need rest.”
 
“I’m not crazy, Ma.  There was this man.  Houjun.”
 
His father chuckled.  “You need sleep.  Don’t give him
another thought.  He’s only trying to trap you.”
 
Suddenly Genrou felt calm.  “You’re not real,” he
said.  “I reject you.”
 
Then he was running down a narrow road, breathless and
heart hammering.
 
“Tasuki,” said a voice that was ancient and wise.  And
familiar. 
 
Genrou stopped and turned in the darkness only to leap
back in absolute fear at the sight of the owner of
that voice.
 
“Sunakake Baba!”
 
The wizened old woman shook her head sadly.  “You
still haven’t changed, bandit boy.”
 
Gasping for breath, Genrou asked, “Dare da?”
 
“The question should be who you are.  You still
haven’t accepted the truth.  Knowing this and loving
you, Chichiri has sent you away from danger and faces
the demon alone.”
 
“Sent me where?  How?”
 
“Open your eyes, Tasuki,” the woman said, “and take
what is offered to you.  Chichiri waits.  Without you,
he dies this night.”
 
“Dies?”  Terror gripped his belly.  “Am I too late?”
 
She only shook her head and faded back into air.
 
He awoke stretched out on the bank.  The moon was
rising in a dark sky.  “Iya.”  He stumbled to his feet
and felt a strange weight on his back.  “I can’t be
too late.”
 
Now the trees lashed, whipped by a wind that came from
nowhere.  Overhead, lightning dimmed the glow of the
full moon.
 
“Chichiri.  Wait for me.  Aishiteru.”
 
The white cat from before appeared, it’s patient eyes
focused.  Tasuki rushed toward it as it leaped into
the shadows, then fell into a clearing where moonlight
beamed on an ebony horse.
 
Taking the reins, Tasuki vaulted onto the saddle and
trumpeted a battle cry.  As he rode, he reached back
and withdrew his tessen; ready to protect the one he
loved with his life.

 

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