Title: Crimson Destiny, Red Soul
Alt. Title: The Himura Tragedy
Chapter: Zero (Prologue) "Resurrection"
Type: Fanfiction
Fandom: Rurouni Kenshin (by Watsuki Nobuhiro)
Pairing(s): Various, implied Kenshin/Kaoru, Sano/Megumi, Aoshi/Misao
Genre: Horror, Mystery, Romance, Angst, Supernatural, Alternate Events
Word Count: 5,780
Summary: A long time ago, Kaoru and Kenji of the Himura family were brutally and mysteriously murdered. Now, ten years later, Kenji has risen from the dead, or so it seems. But what is in store for those close to him...and those who knew him in the past?

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NOTICE TO READERS:

“Ruins of a Childish Endeavor:”

This is what one might term an ancient story – in all aspects of the word. It is based heavily on mythology, and while I once had a website that explained the connections in great detail, I no longer have the luxury or time to do so. Furthermore, the majority of this story was written in the era of 2000-2002, with posting beginning in 2002. Therefore, in regards to writing style, it is very old and markedly different than my current style, which is remarkably more concise and rhythmically inclined. Most writing was churned out like hot-off-the-press ramblings, with chapters being hurriedly scribbled in the manner of junior high note passing.

As for the story itself, it is very different, not particularly centered on the inclusion of the original characters of Rurouni Kenshin. This bothers many. I can honestly say that it might not be suited to most. I was never an avid reader of alternate universe storylines and, other than Ro-chan’s “Heart of a Wolf,” I was for the most part turned off by the inclusion of original characters. However, as I wrote this story, the characters twined their fingers into my soul, not original characters per se, but simply people who had their own manners, their own backgrounds, and their own pains. Above all, I wanted Kenji to have his own story, and the details to set up the story ran rampant. To this day, I am only scratching the main exposition in chapter 20-something.

I have received many emails begging me to continue this story, but the task is long and cumbersome. Thank you all for the reviews and fan art, nevertheless. I love you all dearly. It has been said in recent chapters (if you are a regular reader) that early chapters want to make me tear my hair out. That remains quite true to this day, but I have neither the heart nor the patience to painstakingly rewrite every single chapter.

However, despite this, I have decided that I will give marginal effort to remedy some (certainly not all) of the glaring mistakes and formatting problems. You will notice, if you do read, that some of the “in between” chapters have not been edited. I urge you to try to overlook this and, if possible, be patient with me. Feel free to offer constructive criticism, but in all honesty, I probably won’t take it in regard to this story. The story is a monstrous 150,000+ words, and no one with a life like mine will have time to tweak it. I will fix what I will fix. However, bear in mind, that the writing will retain its overdramatic, superfluous style as a testament to the first story I ever wrote.

When you get to the heart of it, fan fiction is written in fun and exploration, and since this is neither professional publishing nor an academic/collegiate paper, I am not going to be putting all of my editorial efforts into it. Nevertheless, the story remains close to my heart and all the original fans are very dear to me.

Thank you,

Tanuki-dono

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The warmth of her hand. That's what I remember best.

On that day, she wore her hair in a high ponytail atop her head. It was tied with one of her favorite crimson ribbons. Two loose strands of hair hung along either side of her face – framing it perfectly. Her face was delicate and elegant and open and friendly. Lips were tinged pink, always seeming to curve in a gentle smile. Her eyes were as beautiful and bright as the stars. They made the sky wail in jealously, being bluer than it could have ever dreamed. And on that day, she wore her sunset-colored kimono, incorporating brilliant reds, oranges, and violets into a collage of wonder. And in those days, my innocent eyes never tired of endlessly staring at its intricate designs.

It amazes me. After all this time, I seem to remember her features so clearly – as well as the musical voice she possessed. I even remember the tiny freckle gracing her left ear. No detail escapes me now that the waking dream has stumbled shyly into existence, screaming and shedding the truths of my personal reality. They say that a man is deaf to his dreams if he hears the pleas of realism. But I am not truly a man, and yet not truly a child. I can only dive into the bluest of dreams to find what I am without.

And to this day, it is the warmth of her hand that my delirious mind will not release. But by the same token, it is its coldness that haunts my every waking moment. Cold fingers fiddling with my hair and warm tears dripping down my face – it paints a strangely graceful and grotesque picture. At times I wish her image would leave me. But when she is absent I cry. Her identity eludes me despite the clarity of her appearance, but I cling to her. I cling to her always.

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Crimson Destiny, Red Soul

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20th Year of Meiji
May 5th, 1887
3:32 p.m.

The winds were chilly on that gray, autumn afternoon. The season had arrived uncharacteristically early. Some called it a miracle; some merely turned a blind eye and went on with their personal affairs. Autumn weather in early summer – an omen of bad luck for those who dared to look carefully. Whatever the reason for the abnormality, it was still an especially beautiful season for the small Kamiya dojo. The cherry trees forsook their precious leaves and left them to die upon the earth's soil.

The falling leaves danced around the figure of a petite young woman with long, black hair. She stood with an unmistakable air of dignity unparalleled by any other woman in commonplace Tokyo. Her striking sunset-colored kimono provided the only speck of vivacity to the dreary scene. Her name had been Kamiya Kaoru once upon a time, but as the years had flown by and love had bloomed, she had become a new woman – Himura Kaoru.

She sighed happily to herself and turned to a small boy sitting on the porch a short distance away. Her pride and joy. The light breeze ruffled his mahogany-colored bangs. He was tiny for his age, but there was a keen intelligence and sharp wit apparent in the windows of his blue-violet orbs. His attention was focused solely on the task of getting dressed. He wrinkled his nose in pure distaste. He hated nice clothing – preferring the cheaper garments to play freely in. There was no harm in tearing a hole in play clothes, but dinner clothes demanded a certain level of care.

"Kenji," Kaoru cooed, "Hurry, or we'll be late to see Tae-san. I promised her we'd be by for dinner."

Tae, the owner of a nearby restaurant as well as a long-time friend, had been looking out for her lately. "I bet she's worried because of Kenshin's absence," the young woman mused.“But I’m fine. Honestly, why does everyone worry so much? He won’t be gone long.”

Kenshin, her loveable ditz of a husband, had recently decided to go wandering the countryside to help the sick and the poor. Of course, she was perfectly fine with it. Of course, he needed to ease the pain and worthlessness he felt for having killed so many in the past. It weighed heavily on his conscience. Her mind supplied a few private sarcastic remarks before she was able to reel the thoughts in.

"Stop it, Kaoru," she reprimanded herself silently. "You must try to be a good wife and understand your husband. And you do understand. He doesn't feel he deserves this happiness, that's all. Doesn't matter if you or your son misses him. Ah — stop it!"

She pictured his smiling face in her mind, the soft violet eyes crinkling at the corners and crimson hair swaying in the wind.

"Oh, Kenshin... It's hard not having you around. I miss you so much," she whispered dejectedly.

Kenji observed his mother's sudden display of emotion uneasily. She could not hide her sadness. Every fiber of feeling she experienced shone clearly from her eyes. He shifted uncomfortably. He could tell she was upset over something – probably his father, he realized with a twitch of anger. Melancholy was written all over her face. He decided that he had to distract her somehow. She didn't need to dwell on things that made her sad. Being a simple seven-year-old, his options were limited. After much deliberation, he came to a conclusion. He would whine.

"Mother!" he wailed, "Why do we have to be there so early? Dinnertime's not for hours!"

Kaoru snapped to attention, her sapphire eyes focusing back on her son. She had been so lost in thought she had lost track of her surroundings.

"I almost forgot about it," she laughed to herself. She shook her head slightly. Where had her vitality and spirit wandered? She had become such a brooding old lady. Her thoughts turned to her friend Tae, who was always fussing on her to show her internal beauty like she used to. She was really very thankful to Tae, but the woman could easily grate on her nerves. Without Kenshin around, Kenji didn't really get a wonderful meal – a fact she would only admit to herself. Therefore, it was great that Tae made sure they ate good food every once in a while. It's not that the food she herself cooked wasn't edible, it was just a bit bitter at times. Okay, she admitted in the recesses of her mind...it was pretty bad.

Kenji, though just a seven-year-old, tried so hard to be considerate of her feelings – always smiling and telling her how great her meals were. But try as he might, he just couldn't hide the slight grimace every time he swallowed. She giggled at the youngster in front of her as he struggled to get his green and blue gi on. It would have been quite easy for him to get dressed if he simply had the patience to slow down. But Kenji had never been patient – not the slightest bit. He had gotten that part of his personality from her.

"Motheeeer!" he drawled at her lack of response. He stuck his lower lip out cutely. "You didn't answer me!"

"Oh! Did I forget to tell you? We're going to go shopping before dinner. I have some extra money from a few classes I've taught lately," she exclaimed, mood shifting dramatically. Her cheerful demeanor did nothing to make Kenji any happier.

"Oh," he replied dully. His mood further had further deflated upon hearing the news, eyes dimmimg in annoyance. Shopping could last a really long time, and he usually only received new clothes from such expeditions. How boring. His mother never bought him anything nice like candy. He always asked for chocolate, but the request had been denied every single time. He supposed it was too expensive, and for a moment, he almost wished his brainless father were taking him to town instead. Though Kenji wasn't fond of his father, the man always gave in to his pleas. He stared pitifully at his mother. Maybe if he begged her enough, she would take pity on him.

"Does that mean I'll get candy?" he asked hopefully, eyes shining.

The woman huffed.

"Not again…"She raised a hand to her temple dramatically. It was difficult to deny her son anything when he looked at her with such an adorable face. It reminded her of her husband. At times, the resemblance between the two of them was uncanny.

"Maybe," she replied cautiously, "If you behave, that is."

Kenji was ecstatic. Such an answer was as good as a yes, after all. He hopped over to her joyfully.

"Really?" he asked excitedly, hugging her leg and practically sitting on her foot. "Really? Really? Really really! I promise I'll be good! Oh, I promise! I promise!"

Kaoru laughed, eyes sparkling in splendor and voice ringing sweetly. She reached down and clasped her son's tiny hand in her own.

"All right, Kenji," she giggled, "we'll buy some candy while we're out. There's a first time for everything."

Kenji grinned from ear to ear and his eyes shimmered with delight.

"Yay!" He felt like an over inflated balloon, fit to burst. There was no dampening his spirits since he knew chocolate was waiting for him. Not even the thought of his absent father could depress him.

Kaoru smiled down at her son, amused by his antics. She gave his soft hand a slight squeeze.

"Well, then. Let's be on our way, Kenji."

He grinned cheekily up at his mother and fell in to step beside her. She walked slowly so he could keep up with her longer strides. They walked casually, enjoying each other's company. Kenji swung their joined hands as they walked. Everything was peaceful for the moment. The peace was like fragile porcelain. Just as they set foot outside the gates, Kenji froze. A cold feeling of dread washed over him. His breathing became rapid and his eyes darted wildly from side to side in a sense of panic. He looked like a frightened rabbit, ready to dart into the thicket for cover. They had to stop. They had to go back.

"Wait, mother!" he exclaimed, cheeks turning red in embarrassment.

She stopped in her tracks, heart skipping a few beats at his unexpected outburst. She crouched slightly, preparing for an attack. She was, after all, the assistant master of the Kamiya dojo, and she would protect her son at all costs. Her eyes shifted dangerously, but she sensed no oncoming threat.

"Kenji?" she questioned as she peered down at his red face. "Kenji, what is it?"

He gulped and turned his face up to her. His eyes, now an astonishing blue-green color, were shining with emotion. He stared down at his toes and a sheepish smile crossed his face as he mumbled, "I forgot to put on my sandals! Oro!"

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11:46 p.m.

The day's weather had gone from bad to deplorable. The night sky was as black as the lusterless feathers of a raven. The wind whipped the leaves from the trees and snapped twigs in half. The rain fell with such violence that it seemed as if it would slice skin. The storm kept most citizens confined to their homes. Something odd, however, gave the atmosphere a thick sense of foreboding. One couldn't help but speculate that the almost tangible sense of terror arose from something far more tragic than the overcast conditions. The sense of foreboding was one that would cause the hairs of any normal man to stand on end.

The feeling was of death. Of fresh victims. Of stolen life. Death was in the air – its feel, its smell, and to some, its taste.

As the night wore on, the truculent thunderstorm passed and the rain ceased to fall. However, the overwhelming stench of death still permeated the air. In the black starless sky, two faint clouds parted, and from them descended a woman with long silver hair. She was floating, it seemed, down from the very heavens above. She rode on a small colorful puff that resembled cotton candy. Not far behind her came an plump old man. He resembled a sennin of Japanese legend, and he rode on a giant magical rabbit, Usagi. The two individuals scanned the ground below anxiously.

The woman's gray eyes narrowed suspiciously, and her face fixed itself in a scowl. Below was a scene of death. Crimson liquid decorated the ground in puddles, and small mangled pieces of flesh and bone were scattered here and there. She landed softly on the moist, red-speckled grass and squinted her eyes, looking curiously past the shrouds of darkness. Something was calling to her. A small light burned in the distance, and her feet immediately carried her towards it. She walked across a small bridge and came to a small crowd of demons. It was the glowing eyes of the creatures that she had seen. She studied them closely. Disgusting, slimy things. They were gathered around something of interest – probably some type of food. She gasped in surprise as a pair of teeth emerged from one of the monsters. So they were preparing for a feast! She glared at the old man behind her.

"You made us late, old man! See how you let them feast? They're already eating, and we can't investigate!"

The old man held out his hands in a placating gesture. He shook his head innocently. "Let them feast? It is no fault of mine, my dear! Do you really think an old sennin such as myself can control demons?" He leaned heavily on his cane and fixed her with a grin. "We came here to check on this situation. Look, if you hurry along you may stop them. You are only part goddess, and so are not as vulnerable to their power as full gods...just raise a hand to them and they will scatter like bugs!"

She growled.

"Away!" she shouted, glaring at them. At her command, the crowd of demons looked up in fear and dispersed. She sniffed haughtily. They were nothing compared to others of their kind. They were stupid. Despite the fact that she could not kill them, they feared her. That fact alone proved their weakness. It was a known fact that one could only kill demons if one possessed mortal blood.

She glanced around the blood-splattered road. It had to have been done by demons, she concluded, but not by the scavengers she had just chased away. There was a faint glow of demonic power still present in the spilled blood. She breathed a sigh of relief that the demons that had actually done the dirty work were long gone. It was a good thing. She knew for a fact that she and her traveling companion would be no match for strong demons.

Today was one of the worst days of the year – a day when demons appeared before human eyes and evil spirits brought misfortune. Demons were scarce in the world - most of the demon-slayers had put their souls to sleep or had simply killed them long ago - but the few that remained were still dangerous. The humans could try all they wanted with their protective festivals and such, but the demons would not stay at bay. They roamed around all the time, though usually elusive to human sight. They ordinarily didn't bother mere mortals. But on May 5th of every year, their guises became ineffective, and they tended to get quite ornery. Most chose to hide in places of darkness, but others preferred to stay in the open.

She sighed, clucking her tongue as she stepped over a severed finger. Demons were also quite active during the Bon Festival in October, but the fateful day in May had been a problem since the most ancient of times. Many mortals had forgotten completely about it. But gods and nobles – no, gods and nobles had not forgotten.

She drew her light blue kimono sleeves close to her body and stepped forward to examine the tiny bundle that the demons had been torturing. She knelt down to turn it over. It was half buried in the red-stained mud. She dug with her fingernails to free it.

The old man gasped loudly at her actions.

"Saiun! Don't touch something so filthy! It is improper for one of the Nobility to - "

"Shut up, Tobosaku-sennin," she said coldly as she tentatively touched the back of the object. Her eyes were a dull, unkind gray. However, what she discovered brought a maternal softness to their harsh color.

"It’s a corpse," she murmured softly. She slowly turned the small body over, bringing it to rest on its back. "The corpse of a child, no less.” Her eyes dimmed. The poor thing had fallen victim to the demons. She picked him up gently. He was extremely light, except for his head. It hung back at a painful looking angle – awkward to the rest of his body. She supported his dead-weight as she cradled him in her arms. Raking her hands through his tattered hair, she sighed. His mahogany-colored locks were tinged with the crimson tint of blood, yet his hair's texture still possessed a baby-like softness.
He was beautiful. His dainty, lifeless, features dazzled even the eyes of a cold-hearted goddess.

"So lovely, so pitiful," Saiun whispered sorrowfully. She licked her lips in uncertainty before her eyes filled with determination. She turned swiftly, silver hair billowing out, to the stooping man behind her. "Tobosaku-sennin, I’ve decided that I will have this child."

The old man lifted his head. He jumped nimbly off of his giant rabbit and stumbled slowly until he stood beside her. Leaning heavily on his cane, he crinkled his eyes and laughed.

"I've known that for ages, my dear Saiun!" he cackled.

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused by his riddle. "I just decided I wanted him so how cold you have kno – ?"

He leaned toward her, grinning widely and showing his golden teeth.

"I have known of your desire for a child of your own," he repeated, clarifying his meaning. "But the one thing I can’t figure out is this: why do you want a dead one?"

She stroked the child's cheek.

"He is beautiful. That's why I want him. Can't you see how exquisite he is?" She held out the child for him to see.

Tobosaku shook his head. "Beautiful he may be, Saiun. But the fact still remains – he is dead. And the patrons in charge of the world will not allow any mortal to be brought back to life without a valid purpose."

"I can have the breath of life restored to him if he is to be my Shoki!" she exclaimed with conviction, crushing the child to her bosom. “How’s that for a valid purpose?”

The old man turned and paced to the nearby bridge. He hopped up on the railing, showing surprising disregard for his cane.

"Your Shoki, eh?" he mumbled quietly. "So you will name him Shoki? But how can one such as the cold Saiun train a Shoki? Hm? Will he be strong under your care? I don't think - "

"If you want strong, then I shall take him to Seiobo's Garden and pit him against its offenders," she explained haughtily. "Now help me. Call someone to resurrect him – you know what to do better than I do!"

The elderly man furrowed his eyebrows in contemplation.

"Such a temper, my dear Saiun," he mumbled. "Have you really a need for a demon-slayer? Or is it merely an obsession with that child which drives you such? Is it pity?"

"Tobosaku-sennin," Saiun pleaded. "Please," she stroked the youngster's hair with her icy fingers. "I want him. I don't care what I have to say or do to have him."

Tobosaku jumped off of the rail and paced along the bridge. He considered the request. Should he grant her the child? Surely a normal child would have been no problem at all to place under her care. But to grant her possession of a dead soul? It was a great risk. It would call for extraordinary processes. Resurrection - rebirth! Surely she did not comprehend the consequences of rearing a being of the undead. Her countenance displayed a great want for the wretched thing, but did she know that it would be nothing more than a zombie child? Whether it was destined to be a Shoki warrior or mere mortal, the result would always be the same. He rubbed his head, brushing his thick white mop of hair aside. Making difficult decisions had never been one of his strengths.

He stopped his pondering momentarily to glance over the railing's edge. He was met with an unbelievably tragic sight. His eyes, narrow with age, widened in something akin to awe. There was a beautiful maiden lying in the water. Her ebony hair was spread out across the water's surface, and a sunset-colored kimono clung tightly to her young body. Her obi was unraveled and stained a deep maroon, stretching out like fingers across the surface. The water all around was red with her blood. He knew at once that it had to be the aforementioned child's real mother. The poor woman was dead – obviously so. She had the gashes of demon claws all over her neck, but otherwise her body was unharmed.

"The demons must have not toyed with her for long. What a pitiable mortal thing," he thought. He studied her clear blue eyes, which were open for the world to see. They made him shiver with delight.

"Tobosaku-sennin!" Saiun cried indignantly. "Are you listening to a word I’m saying?" Her voice was shrill.

Tobosaku's head snapped up. He had made his decision.

"I will call Bishamonten, Patron of Warriors, for you."

Saiun cringed.

"The God of War. He displeases me, but if I must deal with him to resurrect my child, I will," she announced.

Tobosaku snickered. She was already referring to the child's soul as her own. Such vanity.

"Very well," he replied, raising his cane to the sky. "Bishamonten of the Shichi Fukujin! I call you forth!"

The clouds darkened and swirled in the starless sky, and a great figure descended in a blaze of lightning. A fully armored giant landed heavily upon the ground. Saiun and Tobosaku felt the vibration and trembled. His appearance was mighty and savage, and his broad features gave him the intimidation he so desired. He swiveled around to face the old man and silvery goddess and pointed his sharp spear dangerously at them.

"Who calls Bishamonten of the Gods of Luck forth?" he bellowed threateningly.

The distressed Saiun hugged the dead child close to her chest and hid behind the short Tobosaku-sennin, though his height offered her no real shield.

Tobosaku only grinned and rushed forward to greet the burly giant.

"Bishamon'! It is I, Tobosaku-kun!" he laughed.

Bishamonten blinked, and then he stooped down to look at the old man. He tilted his head and seemed to fall into a dazed state of concentration. After awhile, his beady brown eyes brightened. As he raised his bushy eyebrows, it was obvious that his mood had lightened. He released a boom of laughter upon recognition of Tobosaku.

"Yes! Yes!" he chuckled. "The peach man!"

Both men collapsed in laughter at some inside joke while Saiun looked on in annoyance. She waited five minutes. Then ten. But still, the laughter continued.

"Has it been – what – one hundred years, maybe?" Tobosaku joked.

"More like two hundred!" Bishamonten exclaimed, guffawing.

"Excuse me," Saiun interjected softly. They paid her no heed. "Excuse me!" she shouted again, stomping her feet.

The men turned abruptly to her, surprised at the venom in her voice. Bishamonten glanced at Tobosaku questioningly.

"Oh, yes," Tobosaku began. "This is Seiobo-sennin's daughter, Saiun. Beautiful, isn't she?"

Saiun blushed as much as a cold goddess could under Bishamonten's scrutiny.

"Yes," Bishamonten answered after a pause. He glanced at the little figure in her arms. After a moment of silence, he rushed forward to get a better look, eyes gleaming.

"Dear Lord – it can't be! That's the one," he gasped. "The one with the red soul! He's dead?" He threw his arms upward in fury. "Oh, this is an abomination! I can't believe those wretched creatures were able to actually kill him! This will likely start a war!"

Tobosaku's eyes widened and his mouth ran dry.

"The Red Soul? This child?"

"What does that matter?" Saiun shrugged. She only wanted her child. It didn't matter if he was named Shoki or had a red soul.

Bishamonten looked directly into her eyes.

"Don't you know, foolish girl? Red souls only come around once every 3,000 years. The last one was my own Shoki, the demon-slayer called Tenrai! Haven't you heard of him?"

Saiun stifled a yawn. "Go on."

"A red soul is what the original Chinese Shoki of legend possessed - do you know nothing of history? Gods and nobles often acquire a red soul for their own purposes – such as a bodyguard or servant. But demons seek to destroy it, like moths to flame. One that possesses a red soul has capabilities unlike any other to exorcise evil. A red soul is the ultimate banishing soul – a soul that destroys the demons that roam the earth," Bishamonten explaimed.

"And?" Saiun murmured, rolling her eyes. "Will you resurrect him for me? I don't care what purpose you have to give him. Just get him alive for me."

Old man Tobosaku-sennin snickered at her ignorance.

"Looks like you picked an ideal candidate for your Shoki, my dear."

"Indeed," Bishamonten added with an exasperated sigh. "Well, Saiun-sama, let us begin." He clapped his hands twice, and the child rose up into the air. Saiun gasped and tried to reach for him. "Let him alone!" Bishamonten roared. Winds gusted, and the shredded clothes of the young boy were whisked away. A faint, ethereal glow surrounded his tiny frame. There were two fatal slashes across his chest that formed a giant X mark. Upon Bishamonten's command, the old blood dripped away from the cross-mark and pooled in a puddle beneath the child.

"Return and separate!" Bishamonten commanded, pointing his spear at the child. A red light burst forth from the youngster's chest. His limbs jostled and he looked remarkably like a stringed puppet. An exact copy of the boy appeared, climbing with great difficulty out of his original's chest. The copy crawled from the intersection of the awful slashes and hovered in the air. The original body fell to the ground lifelessly.

"What are you doing?" Saiun screamed, cradling the fallen body of the original.

"Quiet, girl!" Bishamonten commanded. "I am giving you his soul for now. A spirit body. You will train it, and in ten years he will return to his earthen body for rebirth. That is how long the process will take, and that is what will be done. This is the purpose of his new existence."

The spirit copy of the boy-child swirled around and around, and then it drifted closer to Bishamonten, limbs trailing like smoke. The giant tapped his spear at the intersection of the scar on the boy's chest and a tiny, oval jewel appeared. It shone a bright gold and emitted a high-pitched ringing.

"Arise and live, soul!" Bishamonten commanded, spinning his spear like a baton.

The tiny jewel began to emit a brilliant light, and the boy's eyes shot open. They were now a dull gray, just as Saiun's were.

"Mo...ther..." he choked. "Mo...ther..."

Bishamonten's face hardened and his jaw slackened.

"My God. He remembers his life and death. He can't have been dead long. Give me his new name, Saiun, and I will erase his memories."

Saiun straightened her shoulders.

"He shall be named Shoki. Shusui Shoki."

"A Shoki named Shoki?" Tobosaku mused, laughing outright.

"Very well," Bishamonten replied. He turned back to the distraught child. The boy's body was suddenly enveloped in a vibrant blue light. "Listen to me, child!" Bishamonten roared. "You will forget. Forget everything! Your name is henceforth Shusui Shoki! Shusui Shoki!"

The boy let loose a piercing shriek. He flew upwards – arms and legs flailing pitifully.

"No! No! Nooo!" he screamed. "Mother! Nooooo! Heeeeeeelp!" His pleas grew quieter and quieter as he floated back down.

Saiun stepped forward, discarding the original lifeless body she had been holding. She reached up and grasped the new youngster, who felt surprisingly warm and solid in her arms. Her eyes softened as she made subduing gestures. She stroked his hair and kissed his forehead.

"It's all right now," she whispered. "I am your mother now. I'll care for you."

The child shivered. Whatever was holding him was as cold as ice. He tried to open his eyes to see, but some invisible force seemed to be holding them closed. Meanwhile, Saiun gazed at him in amazement. He was moving and breathing, and at her constant touch, he calmed down and drifted into a deep sleep.

Bishamonten snorted angrily.

"What are you doing, idiot girl? I am not finished with this process. You grabbed him out of the air before all was complete. He has a tormented soul due to the violent circumstances of his death! I have not completely cleansed him!"

Tobosaku held up a hand to silence Bishamonten.

"Is it mostly done?" he asked quietly, eyes intense.

"Well – yes," Bishamonten answered uncertainly. "But the problems it will cause in the future – "

"Then leave it be," Tobosaku commanded. "It is done well enough to suit that girl. She will most likely taint her reputation with the wretched thing anyway. It’s not worth your strength." He strolled over to Saiun and the newly resurrected Shoki. He produced a gold robe and pair of sandals from behind his back and smiled lopsidedly. "For Shoki," he announced.

Saiun snatched the objects from him swiftly and promptly dressed her new son.

"Ungrateful girl," Tobosaku cursed under his breath.

After dressing the tiny boy, Saiun rose with him in her arms. She gazed down sadly at the original corpse left lying on the ground.

"But what of his original body?" she asked, feeling guilty at the prospect of leaving it behind.

"It will be buried once it is found. People often travel this bridge in fair conditions, believe it or not," Bishamonten answered.
Saiun turned away from the corpse.

"So we just leave it here?"

"Yes. A new body to fit his maturity can be constructed from his ashes at a later date," Bishamonten explained. "Ten years from now, you will see."

Saiun sucked in a breath uneasily.

"Do you think your demon-slayer Tenrai might help me raise him, Bishamonten-sama?" she asked suddenly. "He still resides at my mother Seiobo's shrine, Yasukuni, does he not?"

Bishamonten and Tobosaku exchanged sly looks and burst into mocking laughter.

"You will never get the great Tenrai to assist you, my dear Saiun!" Tobosaku laughed, wiping tears from his eyes. “He is always busy.”

"He no longer resides there, anyway," Bishamonten snickered. "You are the one who wanted a resurrection, so it is you who must deal with it."

Saiun fumed, face turning red.

"But I am only a little over a hundred years old," she whined. "How can I train him to be strong as you say I should?"

"Perhaps," suggested Tobosaku, "little Raiden could help you. He lives with Seiobo now, you know..."

"Raiden? Absolutely not! He is unbearable! I detest him!" she howled.

"Do not be immature, girl! Take some responsibility!" Bishamonten snarled, pointing his spear at her. He was more than ready to be rid of the vain woman and her complaints. "You must deal with what you have chosen. Go back to Seiobo's Garden and walk your path."

Saiun furrowed her brow.

"All right." Her silver lips puckered into a small pout. She gathered her precious bundle firmly in her arms and lifted up into the sky on a small cloud. She did not bother to say goodbye to the two men below.

"Not even a thank you," Bishamonten mused.

"She is quite ungrateful," Tobosaku added with a low whistle. "I only brought her along with me on this inspection so she would shut up. And so I could have some eye candy to gaze at."

The two men lingered on the bridge in contemplation, each wondering what the future held for Saiun's new son. A light breeze blew seedlings to fly and ruffled the hair of the two in meditation.

"I wonder if that girl will raise her new son successfully?" old Tobosaku pondered aloud, gazing up at the endlessly dark night sky.

"Her son," Bishamonten chuckled. "Indeed, what a thing to say! Poor Red Soul – to be killed so brutally while enjoying the summers of childhood. Still, his new life should prove interesting. I'll have to keep an eye on him," he said gruffly, turning to Tobosaku with a serious expression. "I gave him the Jewel of Life, or as you and I know it – the Seikatsu no Hoseki."

Tobosaku's eyes bulged.

"What? So that's what that golden jewel was! Why? That's so – so important! Why entrust it to the Shoki of Saiun?"

Bishamonten smiled knowingly.

"He has great conflict ahead, that one. That jewel will keep him alive on borrowed time. You see, all of the 'living dead' require energy. I just gave him a special source of energy with many advantages. It will activate when he is returned to the mortal plain and act as his heart."

Tobosaku gasped.

"Because he has a red soul? Is that why you gave it to him?"

"Yes," Bishamonten answered, closing his eyes. "He is the Red Soul. I can't believe they managed to kill him," he sighed heavily. "This marks a war between that demon society and the Shoki demon-slayers. It's going to be Hell come morning."

It was then that a gust of wind blew past, bringing moist droplets of mist to fly through the air. A faint whisper echoed through the night.

"No... No... Ken... Kenji..." it wailed in misery.

"Did you hear that, Bishamon'?" Tobosaku asked anxiously, casting furtive glances around the area.

"I didn't hear anything," replied Bishamonten, regarding his friend oddly.

Tobosaku's eyes fell to the deceased maiden sprawled out in the shallow river water.

"Bishamon'?" he asked scratchily.

"Hm?"

"Can a dead woman speak?"

Bishamonten scratched his neck. "Not technically, no. But if her soul were restless, you might hear something like that, I guess."

Tobosaku's old eyes shimmered with a burning curiosity.

"Ah."

END PROLOGUE.

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