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But let me try...
Those words followed me the rest of spring. I’d given in, asking for more art supplies to continue practicing while I knew I had the time to dedicate to the craft. Often, Lord Kwan would be beside me, silent, with that small smile on his face, composing poems. He never told me what they were unless I asked, to which he’d recite the one he was working on. The words had a flow and imagery to them, even if I didn’t understand how.
Riding up the mountain for our mid-summer visit to the groves, my mind would bring up the feel of those last moments in the bath every time I looked at him in the quiet. I wanted so badly to believe that embrace meant something—something deep, something more. So many times, I wanted to tell him how I felt, until the fear of making things too awkward between us convinced me to stay quiet.
I still had little over a year to muster the courage.
I would tell him. Just, not yet.
Without his brothers attending, the picknick and gathering of peaches were a great deal more relaxing, even with a momentary drizzle. Court would be held nearer to the end of summer, when traveling and socializing between the nobles grew tiring and would likely mean less visitors. But I still dreaded that his brothers, and likely his sister, might come.
As soon as Lin was seniored into her position, she’d be given the option to join in the yearly trek—which gladdened me, so that I wouldn’t be the only woman in the group. It didn’t seem likely that Yua would return to the house any time soon (for a Juneun).
Likewise, Lord Kwan had sent for several new horses to bolster the stable, better assuming his status as a lord and continuing the pretense that Gumiho was gone.
I wondered if the kudzu was still there, since Feng had left the mountain. The peach picking half done, my mind wandered. So, I didn’t see Lord Kwan run to pin me down.
The trees broke—smashed under some unearthly brute force. Fox fire burned hot and sickly, moaning over the shouts of the house guards that’d escorted us. I’d flinched in the suddenness of it, my eyes trying to slow things down to understand the scene, and I saw the snarl of Lord Kwan’s face.
Eyes wild under his scowl, tiger patterns came onto his skin as he bared his teeth fast becoming long and pointed. His hands, too, seemed thicker; his nails turning sharp.
“If you won’t come to me,” taunted a woman’s voice, “I figured it was time I came to you.”
Lord Kwan leapt, his sword drawn. It happened too quickly for my human eyes to see.
“Syaoran!” I called, thinking of who could help him. But when I looked over, I saw my friend on all fours and petrified. Rushing to him, I shook with vigor, lacking the strength to budge him. “Syaoran? Syaoran snap out of it! Lord Kwan needs help!”
A broken bough of a tree moaned, creaking as it ripped away from the trunk to come crashing down over us. I clung to Syaoran, knowing I couldn’t outrun this fate. His arm lassoed me, yanking me close as we rolled away.
More destruction, and half the escorting guards injured from the fray. The flames grew, howling against the wind on the mountain that spread it beyond the grove.
“Syaoran,” commanded Lord Kwan. His fingers against the back of his blade, it took on a glow, crackling with magic. “Get them out!”
Syaoran didn’t move, propped on his arm and staring with horror at the ground.
“Now, Syaoran,” roared Lord Kwan, charging back at his foe.
Lightning speed, I couldn’t see more than the whisp of a blur, and echo of what’d already happened when my human eyes caught it. There was an instant where I saw Lord Kwan appear more beastly, and streaks of red like rivers down his face.
He was in trouble. Whoever this was, they were matching him. I realized then who.
Gumiho.
In a moment of control from my terror, I climbed to my feet, struggling to help Syaoran to his. A cold sweat consumed his face, his eyes wide and vacant, and his body shaking almost violently.
I didn’t know what to do. What could I do? I was human. I had no magic. No feat for battle. I had nothing to help him—to help Lord Kwan!
If there’s danger and I happen to see it at the time, I can send aide or come myself...
That was it. Much as I hated to admit it, I was glad for Urekkato’s spell in the moment. Letting go of Syaoran’s arm and taking his face, I put my strength to make him look up at the disaster. I did the same.
“Syaoran. Look. Use Urekkato’s spell. Make him see that Lord Kwan is in danger!”
He remained trembling and unblinking. I didn’t know if Urekkato was watching, or how I’d make him. All I could do was pray.
“Please,” I begged in a whisper. “Protect him from Gumiho.”
The crash of another branch from elsewhere, shrieks of horror and pained groans. I whipped my head to see the source. Gi had deflected another large, burning bough from crushing another man. He was injured as well.
Sucking in a deep breath, I prayed for courage. “Syaoran. We need to get out of here.”
He didn’t hear me.
I slapped him, hard as I could. It didn’t hurt him, but that wasn’t the point. It was the shock of it, breaking him from his petrified stupor to look at me that I needed.
“Lord Kwan can’t fight her and protect us at the same time,” I said, working to keep my voice more akin to comfort and refrain from letting it quiver. “Help me get them out of here.”
He nodded slightly. Enough to acknowledge what I’d said. I helped him up.
“Even if the horses ran, we need to get everyone away.” I noticed the red on Syaoran’s pant leg then, clinging to him and the source of the wet color. I didn’t dare to look myself over, fearing it’d stop me if I saw anything.
We hobbled out, with myself leading to find the safest route in the debris to go through while the men supported each other in their injuries.
Thankfully, the horses were not gone, but nor would they come closer. They were spirits, and perhaps understood the severity of the situation, knowing we would need them.
I hesitated mounting up, staring back the way we’d come, silently begging for Urekkato to see, to help. The sound of the battle like the distant thunder of seven storms colliding, flashes of magic sporadic on the horizon. In one moment, it looked further, in the next, it’d come back near to where everything started.
Syaoran lifted me up into the saddle, ignoring my surprised gasp, and mounted up behind me.
“What are you—”
“Kwan said to keep you safe, so that’s what I’m going to do.”
Despite his words, taking a more steadfast tone, I could still hear a tremble in his voice. His hands, too, shook, as he reached for the reins. I snatched them up.
“You can better protect all of us if your hands are free,” I said, allowing his statement to carry and give him some dignity. Looking over my shoulder at him, there seemed a relief to his eye. A silent understanding.
I kicked at his horse’s side, taking lead in a gallop. I didn’t have time to be afraid of falling. In that moment, all that mattered was getting us home. If the best I could do was lead a safe route, cuing when to slow and where to turn, that’s what I’d do.
The gates in view, I breathed in relief. So often in that trek—that usually peaceful trek—did I hold my breath, uncertain, that my sides felt stiff.
In the courtyard, I dismounted first, calling for the others and helping to get Syaoran down. After the ride, he’d started to feel his wound. The entirety of the staff, after several shouts back and forth to rally, came out. Uno, shaken by the sight, was bid to fetch certain herbs and where to bring them.
I stayed by Syaoran’s side, helping to carry him to his room. Having dealt with wounds before, accidents happened all the time in our village, I had a bit of knowledge. Though, I’d never tended such a large gash. When Lord Kwan had returned, bloodied, Yua had taken the lead in treating him. But there were still things I could do.
There were cuts to his torso as well. He sat for me, practically naked, as I cleaned the wounds, pouring generous amounts of the rice wine he always kept in his room after it. Now wasn’t the time for modesty or to complain about spilled drinks.
Uno brought salves, making a startled squeak and closing the door at the scene, and only coming in when I commanded it immediately after. The largest of his injuries still bled, needing to be cauterized. She’d heated a knife, and helped to restrain Syaoran as he bit down on a thick, rolled cloth.
Other injuries required stitching, which he bared better. Additional effort went to cleaning the rest of him, preventing anything from interfering with the salves, and applying a clean wrap wherever possible. I repeated silent prayers during the process—for Syaoran to heal without complication, for Urekkato to have heard my plea, for Lord Kwan to come home safe.
Night fell, the sounds of Lord Kwan’s battle were nowhere. Did he push Gumiho back? Away from the mountain? The image of his snarling face flashed in my mind, how different it was from his usual placid expression. He’d been angry with me, shouting. But this was different. She’d attacked his home—destroyed his sacred grove—and put the people he cared about in danger. Would he be reckless? Please, don’t be reckless. Come back...
“Hisa,” called Syaoran, weak with exhaustion. I’d done all I could, and a fever started in spite of my best effort. “Stay with me?”
I put a smile on for his sake. “I’m going to check on the others. I’ll be right back, I promise.”
I stood to leave, and he caught my wrist. “Stay...?”
It struck me as odd. I’d never seen Syaoran this way. A few times, he’d looked downtrodden, his pride in defeat, but never did he look scared and boy-like until now. The danger was gone, but his terror remained.
“I’ll stay,” I whispered, and resumed my place beside him.
He looked torn, a disbelief in his next set of word. “It was Gumiho.”
“I think so.”
He shook his head. “It was. She’s still alive. I thought...”
“Whatever the reason,” I said, forcing myself to sound firm. “I have faith in Lord Kwan. Even if Urekkato can’t go to help him, I know he’ll send her away and come back for us.”
Syaoran stayed silent.
“Urekkato said that Lord Kwan was the one who killed her. And that he let everyone think Urekkato did. If the Cat prince wants to keep everyone believing that, he’ll have no choice but to go to Lord Kwan’s aide.”
Syaoran forced on a smile. “That’s not what I’m afraid of.”
My face twisted with confusion.
“I know Kwan will come back,” said Syaoran.
“Then what are you afraid of?” I asked in a coo.
“Do you remember when I told you about my sister?”
I nodded.
“Gumiho is the reason we were separated. Now that she’s back, I’m afraid for my sister.”
It dawned on me then. “That’s why you were so panicked looking for that thing you lost.”
His brow bent, furrowing into a plea, and he turned his face from me. “When Gumiho was gone, I thought, at the very least, my sister would be safe. Even if I never found her again.”
My heart hurt for Syaoran in that moment. I saw so much of my own brothers in him. The weight of responsibility Kenta would take, the guilt Raeden showed when we last spoke, and the defeat of Hisato when I took his place.
“Let me help you,” I said. “If you won’t go to Lord Kwan for help, then let me—”
He turned to me again, shaking his head. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
I blinked, needing a moment to understand. “Is it that dangerous?”
“To a human, yes.”
There was nothing I could do. And I hated myself for it. I couldn’t help Syaoran any more than I could help Lord Kwan. I felt useless.
****
After a week had passed, my fears intensified. The summer monsoons had doused the fires, leaving a black scar on the mountain. Juro was sent for to see what could be done to heal the land from Gumiho’s savaging.
In my own desperation, I wrote up a letter to send for Genji. As Lord Kwan’s former master, surely he’d have the strength to help, to bring Lord Kwan home safely. I knew he wanted to keep Gumiho a secret, but, after her attack, would there be any hiding it? I had to try. What little I could do to help, I wouldn’t be stopped.
Gi thought I’d lost my sense asking him to ride out and deliver the letter, and might’ve refused if I didn’t threaten to go there myself. His horse galloped with lightning speed, the likes of which I hadn’t seen in my riding. It dawned on me then that they’d slowed themselves to that of an ordinary steed for my benefit.
I wished now, more than ever, that I’d had some great gift—some magic or warrior’s skill I could use to help. But I was merely human. An ordinary village girl with no special talent. Useless.
All I could do was pray. And it felt like that wasn’t nearly enough.
When Gi returned, and Juro did arrive, I feared all the more for Lord Kwan’s absence. I’d taken up tending to anyone who needed, and picking up the slack where I could, so much that I didn’t have time to notice Juro’s coldness towards me. Syaoran did his best to comfort, but I saw the worry in his eyes.
Uno had taken to sleeping in my room, unnerved by Juro. To my surprise, Syaoran kept Koji in his room, claiming the smell of dog would mask his own and ward off other fox spirits.
It was that night when something came crashing through the gates. I leapt from my bed in fright, as did Uno. Roaring like thunder shook my bones. It might’ve been any number of things, attacking while Syaoran was still recovering and Lord Kwan was away. My senses begged me to stay hidden. I ignored it with what courage I possessed.
Running out in my night robe, I gasped in horror. Lord Kwan, more beastly that I’d ever seen him, stood panting, searching. The men of the household, including those not yet fully recovered sprung into their roles. Chains in hand, they made to restrain him.
With a swipe of his massive paw, a sharp gale-wind blew them back—ripping off parts of the roof, tearing the paper-paned walls, and dislodging anything not rooted to the earth.
In the moment, I was afraid. He was in a blind rage, and so far gone from himself that he couldn’t wrestle for his own restraint. His body large, shoulders shy of reaching the ceiling, and more tiger than man, I froze.
Syaoran made his appearance, wasting no time in casting spells to enchant any restraint and bind Lord Kwan in his state. Again, they were batted away, and he didn’t recognize Syaoran as a friend—charging him with tooth and claw. A spell ready, Syaoran vanished an inch away from death.
In his blind fury, Lord Kwan lashed out at anything around him. Syaoran cast a spell of foxfire to lure him away. If he could tire Lord Kwan enough, or keep him distracted!
Juro took up the restraints, putting his own magic to it and managing to bind some of Lord Kwan’s beastly back half. Not for long. A forceful yank freed the chains from Juro’s grip, and he set for Syaoran again.
The fox used his same evasive spell, casting it too late this time. He reappeared not too far from me, slammed into the wall with new wounds. I called out, rushing to him, unaware that Uno had clung to my side and stayed in tow like a child. Syaoran struggled for breath, and fought to keep his eyes open.
Again, Juro set to restrain Lord Kwan, managing to tangle up a front leg and some of his upper body. The men scrambled to grab hold, and free Juro to repeat the technique.
Lord Kwan’s rampage hardly slowed. No matter what magic was cast or how many chains were thrown on him, he didn’t still.
I didn’t know what else to do, and bid Uno to stay with Syaoran while I made for Lord Kwan.
“Hisa!” called Syaoran, but I was already past his reach.
Juro caught my arm. “Don’t.”
“It’s my duty to be by his side when he returns,” I said, trying to make my voice sound more in control.
“Not like this,” said Juro. “Not in this state.”
“He would never hurt me.”
“He won’t recognize you!”
I breathed in deep, preventing my own anger. “You said yourself that we are strangers to each other now, Lord Juro.”
His face slackened from its harshness. “Hisa...”
“Let me go to my master,” I commanded, doing my best to keep from shaking.
Frowning, he released me. I took in another slow breath, steadying myself with a prayer.
You’re still that girl who ran up the mountain... Fearless.
He’d said that to me more than once. If ever there was a time I needed to believe that, it was now. I took slow, soft steps to him, stopping when his attention fell on me. I smiled and bowed. Somewhere in there was still the Lord Kwan I knew—the man I’d come to love.
I made my greeting. And he roared back, yanking sharp and partially freeing himself. I don’t know what came over me, but I’d run into him, throwing my arms around him.
“It’s okay,” I said, trying to coo and not sound so terrified. “I’m here. Always here, Lord Kwan.”
His restrained paw made a clumsy step, landing on my foot. There was no fleeing now. Not from the thundering growls or blood curdling howls or ear shattering roars.
“I’m not leaving!”
I was pushed, losing my grip and scrambling to reclaim it. He bit down on my arm, teeth sinking deep.
I screamed from the pain, but I wouldn’t let go. He needed saving. I didn’t know how I would accomplish that, but I wasn’t going to give up. So, I held fast and buried my face into his fur.
“It’s okay,” I whimpered. “I remember you. I remember that first night I saw you like this.”
His teeth stayed where they were, and he growled low. Whatever fuss beyond us, I couldn’t hear.
“You were scared, and all alone in that room. So, I stayed. I stayed beside you. And I always will. Because...” I could feel myself crying, the agony of my arm wanting me to scream endlessly, and my heart battling it to make me coo and comfort. A continued whimper would have to suffice. “I love you.”
He didn’t move.
“I love you, Kwan. For so long... Come back... Please come back...”
His growls lessened. And his mouth fell away from my arm. It hurt. It hurt so much. But I made myself embrace him. The only thing I had to try and protect him.
“I love you,” I whispered again.