>>162674 Pffffft.
Raise undead makes unintelligent undead, and those can't writefag, can they?
RESULTS amazing.
Your arms just happen to wrap around her body, your hands resting on her knees. With an exaggerated lift to telegraph the movement, Ran slides her own hands down your arms until they come to rest over yours, her fingers flowing between yours as naturally as water through a river. She gives a small sighing hum of satisfaction, the sound moving straight through her body into yours, and you can’t help but copy it.
Her pitch rises slightly in acknowledgment, and her hand squeezes yours as she deliberately bends her pitch higher, making you the tenor to her alto, sending shivers down both your spines. Your own pitch drops down, but eventually finds purchase in a baritone register, and she shifts the harmony in turn, which leads you to the next note, and the next, and the next –
And without a single word of communication, without even a consciously arranged message through your bond, you find yourselves going through a small, placating song, your respective parts moving in perfect rhythm, never once landing on a dissonant chord. The melody – neither of you carries it alone, and truthfully it flows between the two of you without a seeming border despite your different timbres of voice.
And then both of you land on the final note in unison, so in tune that the single note explodes into a thousand overtones high and low, a spectrum of notes reaching from to deepest bass to the daintiest soprano, as far as either of you can hear.
One of her hands detaches itself from yours, coming up to touch your shoulder, trembling uncontrollably. You kiss the back of her head, her golden hair rustling pleasantly underneath your lips, before bringing a similarly unsteady hand to her chin, gently turning it to the side. Her eyes are shut, and remain that way as you lightly kiss her several times more; her temple, at the corner of her eye, the soft part of the center of the cheek, the part of the jaw underneath the ear.
“Where’d you learn that trick?” you murmur, even as the two of you lace your fingers again.
She presses into you slightly as she nestles back into your chest, her head just barely resting on your shoulder. “I would ask you the same…?”
You each take moments to delve your respective memories for anything that might explain the entirely unexpected phenomenon. Flicking through the shikigami bond, the time you spent contracted, her time in your service, your current time in her service –
And the childhood memory of you, your mentor, and Him all in a circle participating in a similar synchronicity exercise hits you with the force of a
sphere of annihilation. That is to say, there’s no shock, just a void where you once felt the pleasure of such a spontaneous sign of trust and connection.
“It’s not really far removed from what you showed Komachi and I, when the Yama judged you,” Ran whispers.
“It’s not,” you whisper back in automatic reply, but if you were enjoying this, you aren’t anymore. But when you peel your hands away from Ran’s, she turns, her newly freed tails flexing. Her gaze bores into yours, and when you attempt to avert your eyes, she leans forward the scant inches needed to press her brow against yours, pushing until you fall back onto the blankets, the kitsune perched above your body on hands and knees.
“That was the past, Sai. Please, let go,” she sighs, slowly lowering her weight on top of you as if preventing you from going anywhere. Not that she can
make you, but – no, she
can.
And that thought fills you with almost as much horror as the thought of Him does. Almost.
Something comes in and chases those thoughts of horror out. For a moment your mind rebels and protests, saying that no, why would you give up your core tenets, why would you leave your path, why would you ever care for anything other than an end to Him, an end to the abuse of power, and then Ran’s scent fills your nostrils, and you find tears rolling from your eyes as you hug Ran closer to you, your hands linked in the small of her back as she whispers nothings into your ears, gently wishing you to relax, to let go of your hatred, to let yourself be happy for a little bit, even if it’s just for this moment.
… can you really? How can you? And… how can you not? The dissonance in your mind is impossible to tolerate, you
need to escape it somehow.
She offers you her lips, and you devour them in an attempt to find solace. Then she gives you her breath, her tongue, and eventually, as you find yourself slipping the robe from her shoulders, her body. She doesn’t resist your hunger at all, and only matches your every advance with one of her own, not resisting in the slightest as you roll her over onto her back. You’ll work this out later, of your own centuries-long mantra to correct the past mistakes of others, against her wishes to open your eyes to a future of your own – yours and hers both.
But now, you have other things to distract yourself with. Things like rolling her over and suckling at her nipples. Things like combing your fingers through the curls between her legs. Things like slipping a finger into those folds, then replacing that finger with your mouth. Things like listening to her moans, watching her back arch, her hands fist in the sheets, tasting her upon your tongue. Things like way she cries out when you take her then and there, the feel of her around your member as you both race towards climax together.
And in the haze of passion, for just a little bit, you find solace from the storm of your thoughts.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“… did I hurt you?” you murmur as the afterglow fades, your breath escaping you in panting breaths. They’re synchronized with her own, as they have to be; her back is against your chest, your legs curled behind hers. “I was… quite rough…”
She shakes her head. “You were, but… I’m made of sterner stuff than that,” she laughs, her hands rising up and hugging your arms closer to her.
Relieved, you crane your neck to kiss her shoulders, and then her collarbone, nibbling down its length as you enjoy the view of her cleavage, slightly squashed together from both your arms and hers, how her rosy nipples stand proudly from the mounds. “But… I smell blood…” You also heard the difference in her cries, at least until the pain faded away and fully converted to please; and you knew when that happened not only through your ears, but through the lack of pain leaking through the bond. Not to discount the feedback loop of pleasure, of course.
Her cheeks redden to match the sex flush in her chest. “I know I may seem experienced, and – yes, I have practiced other things, but this was… Sai, you were…”
“… you mean, it was also your first?” You lift your head enough to meet her sheepish gaze. “But – but you were so, so…”
She silences you with a quick pick on the lips. “You are not my first man,” she admits, somewhat sheepishly. “Or even my first partner. I am not sexless, I have needs as well, at times; but although Lady Yukari has been kind enough to grant me a partner from time to time to work off the occasional frustration… I’ve wanted to save… that. For someone special.”
For someone like you. She doesn’t say that, but you don’t even need the shikigami bond to know it. Some part of you wants to challenge her idea of intimacy as slightly hypocritical, that sex is sex, but you can’t help but be touched by the idea, the gesture, regardless of the reality.
“… when you shouted out like that, I felt your pain,” you murmur. “When – when you were contracted to me, did you feel what I felt like that?”
She shakes her head. “No. You were like a stone slab, impenetrable, only readable when you wrote on it, and that text was as transient as ink in a storm.” Her tails, laid upon your sweaty, sticky bodies like blankets, twitch slightly in recollection. “You’re warm now though,” she reassures you. “But as for now…”
She swallows. “I’ll be honest. I’d like to say it’s intentional, that I’m letting you feel what I feel during our lovemaking to multiply the sensation. But… truthfully… if I were doing that, then I could exclude the pain. But I couldn’t. I… wanted to be closer to you. To be more in tune with you, to be one with you, and it just spilled over by itself before I could control it. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” you whisper back, hugging her just a little tighter to you.
For a little bit, you just hold each other, listening to each other’s breathing. “How do you feel right now?” she asks. Her toe strokes down your calf.
“Tired. Confused as well,” you chuckle, somehow in good humor. “But… also… good.”
“… happy?”
You hesitate for a second. Can you say you’re happy, when there are things that still need to be done, when you have work that must be finished? But can you say you’re not, with this woman here in your arms?”
… no. No. No, you can’t.
“I’m not sad,” you say evasively, but it seems the answer is good enough for her. With a giggle, she spins in your grasp and kisses the tip of your nose. You automatically nip at her chin in return, and for a few seconds you simply peck at each other’s faces like birds.
“Stop,” you laugh, waving her off when she starts making tiny high-pitched squeaks with every nip. With a small push you turn her back around, only to rewelcome her into your embrace when she wiggles close again, after which you both let out simultaneous sighs of comfort. “Tell me about the battle. Who took up the fight after I fell?”
“… a lot of people,” she starts, hesitating slightly.
“That’s rather broad.”
“Well, there
were a lot of people!” she huffs, but you both end up simply chuckling.
“Just take your time.”
“… Reimu was there.”
“She is?”
“The Hakurei maiden. We talked about how she enforces the spellcard system.”
Oh.
That Hakurei maiden. “The two of you talked?” you infer, as Ran’s referring to her less formally.
She nods. “Yukari brought her here while Chen and I were recovering for a debriefing; actually, she brought everyone who fought there, except for, well…”
You squeeze her slightly, and she replies with a small kick of her foot against yours. Except for those who died, the umbrella youkai and Youmu’s father, Youki. Arguably Youmu as well, for common people’s definitions of death. “We discussed on what to do with you,” she continues.
“I’ll take it that most everybody wanted to banish me from whence I came,” you joke darkly. Her foot kicks you again, slightly harder this time.
“Quite the opposite, actually. Only Yukari was in favor of that… and not from where you came, but into one of her dimensions for safekeeping.”
“Of course.” Loosely interpreted, that phrase could mean going back to your now-Ascended home plane, implying that you would regain all the power you abandoned. “And you compromised by imprisoning me here, for the time being?”
“It was a compromise, yes.” This conversation feels weird; you’re receiving cues from Ran, snapshots and snippets of information as you lead the conversation further. It would be interesting, if it didn’t feel so unnatural. “But you should know that everyone wanted to take you with them, and have you all to themselves.”
“Idiots. I have you, why would I leave – “ You end the sentence with a peck on her shoulder, causing her to shiver slightly.
“You didn’t a few hours ago,” she points out, unable to point out the logic despite being pleased with your response.
“Fair enough. But where would I have been going?”
“Iku claimed that you were clearly a sage of high regard, and that it must have been your enlightenment that let you rise above the influence of earthly magics. By her logic, the most beneficial thing would be to take you before the courts of Heaven and have your philosophies expounded upon until they can produce codices of your teachings that others can follow in order to combat ‘the threat’, as she put it.”
You decide it’s in your best interest to not pursue the line of questioning that starts with ‘Heaven’. “I’m afraid she’d be quite disappointed in my lack of upper-level thinking.”
“You’re cunning,” Ran agrees. “Not learned; except in some very specific topics.”
You take the cue. “Did you have to explain just how Taint and Hope work?”
She nods. “It was a long, confusing talk. Everyone has different ideas and theories about magic. It wasn’t just Iku who wanted to abduct you for some faction’s own purposes, though. Reimu then said that because of the threat the free Saigyou Ayakashi represents, it would be best if she kept you sealed at the Hakurei shrine as a spiritual advisor.”
“Wouldn’t my security be jeopardized any time she’d have business outside the shrine, though? Unless they somehow trust me to be without a guard, which is contradicted by your presence here…”
“I’m not a guard,” Ran pouts. “But in any case, it’s not as if the shrine is empty. There’s an oni – a youkai of no small strength – who hangs around there. Kasen visits often – I’m sure Reimu would have convinced her to keep an eye on you. She already came with Reimu to Hakugyokurou, so it wouldn’t be a huge step for her. Oh, and then there’s Genji.” Her voice lifts up slightly at that; she pauses as if composing herself.
“And Genji is?”
“… in retirement. He used to ferry Reimu around when she was younger, before she decided that it was far less trouble for both of them if she simply flew underneath her own power.”
“A mount of some kind?”
“A giant tortoise, to be exact. Not the most dignified of mounts, as you can imagine. Genji was reluctant about leaving Reimu alone; but by that age, Reimu was more than capable of defending herself already. Not as if a big guy like him could do much assuming that they were both ambushed, anyways.” There’s a quirk to her voice, as if she finds the idea of a tortoise protecting a powerful mage silly.
You open your mouth to defend the merit of the tortoise, but shut it. No, Ran would never believe you if you told her that nothing in the entire multiverse is capable of getting the drop on a dire tortoise.
“Well, being sealed there doesn’t sound… so bad,” you admit. “For certain definitions of ‘sealed’.”
“It’s not,” Ran agrees, “and ‘sealed’ is a very loose word. I could argue that you’re sealed here in Mayohiga. But Yukari was able to convince her that she could seal you here just as easily, and that you wouldn’t represent as large a threat in case you somehow got out of hand.”
“How’s that? What are they afraid of me doing?”
“Somehow wreaking widespread havoc as you did in Hakugyoukurou.” Her lips pinch tightly. “Although you have nothing to be blamed for.”
“You’re biased, Ran. Ultimately, you can trace the source back to me,” you admit. Making an unhappy sound, Ran hugs at your arms, her fingers wrapping around your biceps.
“You wouldn’t be able to escape Mayohiga anyways,” she moves on, silently conceding the point. “This place is impossible to force your way into or out of; like I said earlier, you have to know your way already.”
Something shifts in your mind. Like the floodgates to a dam suddenly being thrown open. It’s a strange sensation, not at all like the deliberate transfer of information you’ve experienced before, with the carefully crafted and detailed objects. This is a torrent, a tsunami, of raw information.
“… or know someone who does,” you say slowly, your surface thoughts filled with routes, paths, shortcuts, hideaways, your memory filling as neatly as an empty cup. Ran stiffens in alarm just as you realize exactly what you’re thinking of: the layout of Mayohiga and the Border. The flood stops with the mental equivalent of a slammed door, but you both know that you’ve already seen far more than you should have.
Peeling your arms away from her, Ran rolls to her side, her arms folding protectively in front of her chest as she gives you a wide-eyed look that you return. “How did you do that?” she demands.
“… access your thoughts?” you ask. When she nods, you avert your gaze, unsure of how to answer. “You tell me. I didn’t do anything.” When she remains at a distance, almost like a spooked animal, you reach for her, your fingers at her wrist eventually sufficient to coax her into rolling back into your grasp, although she remains tense.
“… Yukari will be apoplectic when she finds out,” she whispers, voice trembling in fear.
“From what you’ve told me, it’s not like my situation could get any worse. We’ll deal with that when the time comes,” you reassure her automatically, even though you find yourself worrying just the same. Some part of you wonders why you’re playing the protective role now, and not Ran to you. Why you aren’t trembling at the thought of her wrath, and simply feel… neutral. “For now… who else is vying for control over me?”
She swallows, trying to get back on her original topic. “Iku. Reimu,” she repeats in thought. “Lady Yuyuko as well – “
“Ah, she’s… back to normal?” you ask. “I hope she isn’t – angry at us.”
Ran’s breath escapes her in a half laugh, half sigh. “Of course not. Lady Yuyuko has always been nothing but understanding, and kind, and… and that still holds, even after all of – what happened.”
You squeeze her slightly closer to you. “Youmu’s father…”
This time she does sigh. “Even if they were only reunited while she was not herself… truthfully, it was perhaps the best way for him to pass.”
“… what’s that supposed to mean?”
She brings a hand back to your shoulder. “The two of them were closer than they should have been, perhaps.”
Like us? your mind can’t help but ask.
I will make it so that we can stay together, she answers emphatically. You kiss the back of her head, your heart fluttering in an indescribable way. “So, is Youmu – “
“No, Youmu is not Yuyuko’s daughter.” Having anticipated your question, she goes on. “Youmu’s mother… I did not know her, but Lady Yukari said she died in childbirth. After Youmu was just old enough to physically care for Lady Yuyuko by herself, he officially retired as Lady Yuyuko’s servant and went to search for his wife’s soul.”
“Defying death right under the Princess of the Underworld’s nose?”
“Not so much underneath her nose, as tacitly supported and perhaps even encouraged. Lady Yuyuko was fond of Youki, even while his wife was still alive… and after her death, the two of them became lovers within the same year, even as he still pined for his wife and made plans to search for her. It must have driven them both terribly mad with guilt; Lady Yuyuko for thinking she was taking advantage of the situation, of his emotional fragile state, and Youki for not having the strength to resist temptation, for giving into his loneliness. His departure would have meant an end to that moral quandary.”
“But that would just mean another heartbreak for both of them…” you trail off. The kitsune chuckles.
“Of course. Isn’t that the irony of love? Seeking happiness, the only thing we bring upon ourselves is grief. And yet we hurtle towards love without a second thought or doubt nonetheless…”
“What would Lady Yuyuko possibly want of me?” you interrupt her, hoping to move off this thread of conversation, sensing the mood slipping towards uncomfortable territory.
“Youki’s soul was devoured by the Roukanken. As was yours, yet you’re still here.” She arches her back to press her head against your cheek. “She hopes to have you find a way to replicate what you did for yourself… for him.”
“I’m not an archmage,” you sigh, half-exasperated, half-disappointed. “What I did… it certainly wasn’t planned, and I’m no half-phantom. I’m… strange.”
“A boy,” she offers.
“I’d like to think I’m a man,” you complain playfully.
“A boy,” she continues anyways, “who went through far more pain and suffering than anyone deserves to. Who became one with death to extend his life before he ever matured – “
“Someone had to do it,” you protest.
But she’s still building up momentum. “A boy for whom death was an insufficient end, who split his mind and soul to reach total oblivion.”
Realizing that she’s launching into a long speech, you do your best to head it off. “And don’t you have something to do with my return?”
“You came back anyways; the you of Jizo, that is. You came back to report that even in oblivion, you still fought against evil.”
“And look where that turned out! The only thing that accomplished was a bunch of people dying who didn’t have to! Ran, please, change the way you think of me. I am
not the heroic crusader you think I am.”
For a second, she’s quiet, and you dare hope that you were able to stop her. But then she turns in your grasp, staring at you with wide, watery eyes, and you feel something in your chest swell.
“But how can I think of you as anything but a hero?” she whispers.
I love you too much to consider you as anything else. This time she seeks you out for comfort, her arms twining around your neck as she kisses you, her leg sliding over yours. “St – stop, stop,” you protest ineffectually between heated breaths, and then she’s managed to roll you on top of her, and then –