Fan Fiction ❯ The Lycanthrope and the Assassin ❯ "I trust you" - Kiba's story ( Chapter 7 )

Kiba could tell something was wrong. As soon as she looked up into his face, she blanched, and took an involuntary step back. Kiba swore mentally as he realized that the lustful possessive look on his face was the same as when he had attacked her. She knew. He knew that she knew and it made him sick to his stomach.

 

She took another step back, then grabbed at Neko's reins, startling the warsteed into a snort. Snagging her final pack from the ground she threw it onto Neko's saddle, and prepared to hoist herself up. A pair of hands on her waist stalled her. Soft lips brushed against the shell of her ear “Please don't leave just yet” he whispered.

 

Kiba had to say it. He had dared to touch her and he was still alive, so he could only hope that she wouldn't kill him before he could explain. Please…let me tell you why.” Kamiara shuddered. His lips enticed her to stay. Her mind told her to leave. Finally it was her body that made the decision for her. She turned in his arms, and stared up into his eyes. “Even now….after realizing what you are….I still trust you.” Kiba closed his eyes and bowed his head in relief. She was giving him a chance. That was all he could ask.

 

“Please sit, I fear this may take some time to explain.” Kamiara raised an eyebrow at him, but gently broke free of his grasp. Seating herself on his bedroll, she motioned for him to sit next to her. “I have heard of those afflicted with a curse like yours.” She said hesitantly “However all the stories claim that the one who turns into a wolf forgets his human life…” Kiba shook his head. “I don't know of any others save the one who changed me, but I have always remembered my human life.”

 

He leaned back slightly, resting on his elbows staring up at the darkening sky. “I was once a houshii of Buddha. My entire life had been devoted to healing the sick, and contemplating our existence. My master used to tell me that inside every dedicated healer was a ruthless hunter. I'm sure he meant it differently back then, but he's always been right.” Kiba ran a hand through his hair, tousling the silvery locks. Kamiara could not help but stare, and wonder how much he had changed when he became cursed.

 

“Anyways, I had taken a young girl under my wing. Lyre was her name. She was so strange, never speaking, but always helping out. Every time we received a patient, she was the first at his side, tending to his wounds. I suppose I should have seen the desperation in her eyes. The guilt. But I never did. All I saw was a sweet young girl with blue eyes and the whitest hair imaginable.” Kiba sighed, his heart aching.

 

“I assumed that she had suffered some kind of trauma to change her hair, and prevent her from speech. I was such a fool. I did not even notice that every day after the night of a full moon, she was sickly, and that there was always at least one man, severely bitten, taken to our hospice. I never noticed that those bitten always died…” He shook his head. Kamiara felt her heart clench in response. He was still hurting. Still blaming himself for something…

 

“Perhaps a year after I had taken the girl in, I heard a noise from the courtyard. I left my bed to find Lyre, trembling, drenched in blood, sitting by the fountain. I kept asking her what had happened, but of course she never spoke. So I cleaned her up and put her to bed. I did not realize…I could not imagine….when I woke…” Kiba clenched his fists, his nails drawing blood. He could still remember….still see everything…

 

His name had not been Kiba back then….it had been Tensei.

 

Tensei woke to the bright light filtering through the window. Groggily he wondered why the morning bells had not rung. Pushing his blanket to the side, he rolled out of his futon. Padding to the hallway, he realized that it was not full of the usual morning commotion. There were no priests conversing with their peers, no patients clamoring to be cared for. Nothing. Only the sound of the wind could be heard, blowing against the walls of the monastery.

 

His blood ran cold, and he ran to acolyte Shinji's room. There he found….carnage. Blood was liberally splattered across the walls, the furniture overturned, and his friend….his childhood friend…was nothing more than a severed hand…and part of his head. Tensei ran to the courtyard and emptied the contents of his stomach. When he looked up, the sunlight revealed what the darkness had spared him from.

 

Bloody footprints cris-crossing the court yard…in and out of every alcove and room. Most were the prints of a large dog…a wolf perhaps…but others were the bloody footprints of a child. Tensei could not stop his trembling. He did not bother to push away the blonde strands of hair that fell into his blue eyes, nor did he notice the bloody smears on his own shirt from when he had cared for Lyre the night before.

 

All he knew was that his peers….his elders….and his friends, were all dead. Dumbly he trudged from door to door, hoping to find some spark of life somewhere…some clue perhaps to what had happened whilst he was asleep. All he found was blood, and gore, and heartache. Finally he stopped at Lyre's room to look in on the child. She was alive. But she sat on her bed, sobbing, clenching her fists in her hair and yanking on it, rocking back and forth like an insane person. Perhaps she was.

 

Tensei stepped into her room, still not quite comprehending why only he and she were still alive. He stepped into the room and knelt at the girl's feet, taking her hands in his own. “Lyre…you know what happened last night, don't you?” The girl looked up at him miserably, and nodded slightly. Something was growing in the pit of his stomach that made him uneasy.

 

He reached up and stroked her cheek. She leaned into his hand briefly then glanced up into his eyes. Tensei was still numb, still hurting, but so long as he had this one child, then his sanity would remain intact. She reached out her arms, and he pulled her into a hug. Stroking her hair gently he murmured. “Tell me who did this.” She pulled away from him, and he wondered at the shame in her eyes. Hesitantly she placed a hand on her chest and thumped it twice. Tensei bit his lip.

 

“It's not your fault little one. It's not.” He whispered. Lyre nodded and thumped her chest again. Tensei reached out a hand to brush the hair out of her eyes, when like a striking snake, she grabbed his arm and sank her teeth into his wrist. Tensei jerked his arm away, and clutched it against his chest. He stared at the girl in disbelief. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth, and the tears began to flow again.

 

“My fault!” She shouted. Tensei tried not to twitch as she reached a hand up to place on his cheek. “But you loved me. No one else did.” She sniffled, still a sweet child, who could not comprehend the atrocities she had committed. Tensei struggled with this revelation for a few moments. “You…but how?” He stared at the girl. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Looking back up into his eyes she whispered one word.

 

“Lycanthrope”

 

Tensei was not quite sure what to make of that, until she bent double, clenching at her stomach. Her cries echoed through the monastery, startling the few crows who had come to investigate. He watched in horror as her body twisted into impossible shapes. Bones cracked, and re-formed, skin stretched and split, dripping blood onto the cobblestone floor. The girl began to scream louder, her agony evident. Tensei could not stand it any more. He backed into the wall, then turned tail and ran. He ran all the way back to his room, and dove into his futon.

 

“It's just a nightmare, just some horrible nightmare. Lyre couldn't be….she wouldn't have… oh God.” Tensei moaned into his pillow. Suddenly a low howl broke through his prayer. It was so sad, so lonely. Tensei did not leave his room for the rest of the day.

 

He could not remember much of the weeks that passed. Within a few days Lyre's curse had begun to infect him. He had begun to change. What passed was surely months. Perhaps years even that he wandered in the forests, too scared to ask for help, too horrified to admit that he needed it. Eventually he came upon Oni's pack. And Sahn. Dearest Sahn who had reminded him that he was partially human. Who had taught him how to control his body. How to command the change. She had literally saved his sanity and his life….

 

 

Kamiara stared at the man sitting next to her. He had retold his story with little emotion, as if he were holding it all in. His eyes were dull and lifeless, as if remembering that time had taken away his heart. She was not quite sure what to do, so hesitantly reached out to brush her fingers across his hand. He blinked and looked back up at her, recalling himself to this day and age. He felt his heart squeeze a bit at the look on Kamiara's face. She…felt sorry for him. She didn't pity him, or fear him…but she could feel his sorrow and share it. He grasped at her fingers, holding them loosely.

 

“I found out…years later, that it was a large sect of priests in the Narutu area that had been…dabbling…in matters of curses and infections, that cursed little Lyre. I still see her every once in a great while. When I am a wolf, I can convince her to share her memories with me. But that is only during her moments of lucidity, which are few and far between. It has been a long while since I last heard her crying to the moon.” Kiba chewed on his lower lip.

 

“She can't change anymore. She's stuck as a wolf. Her mind was so delicate when she first began to change. I fear she was more than a little insane by the time I met her.” Kamiara squeezed his fingers in sympathy. She knew all too well how corrupt and evil the priesthood had become.

 

Kamiara scooted a little closer to him, and Kiba responded by draping his arm across her shoulders. “I have my own reasons for wanting vengeance, as do you. Perhaps…perhaps we should work together in this.” Kiba nodded at her words. “I agree. Our skills combined could take them down.” Kamiara leaned into his shoulder, wondering at the warm giddy feeling that rose from the pit of her stomach.

 

Kiba waited in silence, partly hoping that she would share her story, but mostly hoping she would not move. He *liked* the way she had snuggled against him. As he held her, he could feel the wounds in his heart closing over. The dull ache that was always with him did not seem so persistent right now. After a while Kamiara's weight fell more and more onto him, until he realize that she had fallen asleep. Smiling gently, he laid her down on his bedroll and pulled the blankets over her. After a few moments of staring at her face, for once peaceful, he decided to unsaddle poor Neko. The stallion had been waiting quite patiently for his mistress, and greeted Kiba with a snort as he pulled the saddle and tack off the dark horse.

 

Kiba patted Neko on the nose, then willed himself into wolf shape, joining Sahn and the pack. They had all flopped together like a pile of puppies, and while Kiba would have loved to have slept curled up with Kamiara, he did not have the nerve to dare such a thing. Sahn gazed at him in approval, and welcomed him. He nodded to the old wolf, then curled up with his pack, his family, and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.