Chapter Text
重新想象
第一稿
1 --(搭建舞台)--
The night air cut through Shinobu’s clothes with a biting chill, raising each of the tiny hairs on her flesh and prickling her senses. A tingling sensation wormed its way down her spine as she walked, dread building tightly in her stomach, growing stronger with each step. She would not call it fear, would not deign to define this discomfort so. Acknowledgement would make her terror real, and though it had gnawed at her stomach like a ravenous beast for years now, she found she was still unwilling to come to terms with it. Her potential would not be reached with something so miniscule as her own pathetic desire to live calling her away from progress.
At last, her destination was reached – the line of tall trees growing at the perimeter of her property. Each thick trunk sprouted dozens of branches; from each branch cascaded the sickly violet hues of her meticulously cultivated wisteria vines. Carefully, her pale hand extended upwards to cup a cluster of blossoms within. The delicate petals were soft against her skin. With a sigh of determination, the Hashira promptly tore the blossoms from the vine, grasping them tightly to her chest. Soon enough, the purple flowers would be crushed up into a liquid that she’d inject into her own veins. It would sting, as it always did, and she’d be sick, as she always was.
Kocho Shinobu was beginning to become accustomed to the pain.
2 --（活着的人会怎样？）--
The needle’s sharp point hovered over her skin as she searched in the dim light for one of the tell-tale dark lines of her vein. It would be easier if she could’ve tied her arm off and enlarged the vessels, but tying a tourniquet was difficult one-handed. Instead, the Hashira operated by sight. Eventually, she plunged the tip into her flesh, straight and sure like a dart. Her eyes no longer watered at the pain; her body no longer jolted at the prick. The poison coursed through her body like wildfire, setting her nerves alight. The syringe clattered to the floor as Shinobu’s hands shook, rolling into the inky blackness beneath her desk.
She knew how she must look. Deranged, like some sort of addict or leper. Here she sat, hunched over her papers and poisons, her body trembling, her veins as dark as midnight beneath her pale skin. Funny. When she was younger, her skin had held more color. Back when she and –
Gazing up at the clock, Shinobu frowned at the hour. How long had she sat here? Taking a breath in, she reached for her pen, recording the amount she’d injected. In another day, she’d test how much of the poison coursed through her blood. Surely, she was reaching a fatal concentration. Four years she’d spent preparing for the day she encounters that demon. Satisfaction would only come if its end was served by her means. Shinobu could never dream of beheading it herself, but she had not come this far to allow anyone else the pleasure.
Grabbing her katana from beside her chair, Shinobu extinguished the lights and left into the night, determined to finish her patrol.
3 --(张力不断增强，决心更加坚定)--
Day after day, she prepared herself further for the moment she’d encounter that demon. All she knew of it were its mannerisms and its appearance. She hoped she would prove too tantalizing of an opportunity for the demon to resist eating. After all, they were such cruel creatures, and Shinobu’s greatest advantage was that many of the foul beasts took a glance at her and assumed she was weak. She could only pray that an Upper Rank demon would react the same. No one had encountered one in so many years and lived. And if Kanae wasn’t able –
She gathered up some of the wisteria again, watching as the pressure of her hands caused the purple veined petals to stain her hands. Enough of it squeezed out would flow like blood. Shinobu wondered if her blood would show a stain of the same color, perhaps not to the naked eye, but there, nonetheless. A signal. A warning. She could not afford to give away any warnings. What if the demon could smell the poison on her?
Blossoms were shoved hurriedly into the depths of her pockets as the Hashira began furiously walking into the dark forest. Her brow twitched, spirits rising in anger. She needed more, more research, more time, more resources. Shinobu was already more than capable of developing a poison that left no traces. She wound her way deeper into the trees, where even the moonlight did not reach. No fear wriggled its way into her mind; she was more than confident that she was the deadliest thing in the woods. Luckily, her sword was strapped securely to her hip.
“How dare you,” Shinobu hissed hoarsely, once she was far enough from her wisteria grove that she could no longer smell its fragrance. “How dare you make me doubt myself!” Rage coursed through her veins; a phantom strength that lent her a malice she did not wish to allow to surface. These dark trees were intimately known to her, however. Shinobu’s sword left its sheath, finding its mark in one of many intricately carved targets on the bark of said trees. Shapes of people, demons, and monsters adorned the trunks, each of them scored with many viscous sword marks wrought from hours of continuous training.
At the center of the circle was an image carved as accurately as the Hashira could manage from such a vague description. Each word her sister had said had been given a corresponding detail on the carving. Tall, cold, with two war fans in each of its hands. This figure was sliced more so than any other, and tonight it would once again be the focus of her rage.
“I’ve worked so hard to get where I am, and I will not allow you to plant any doubt in my mind that I’m trying hard enough!” the Hashira spat, her uniquely shaped sword finding what would have been a deadly pressure point on a regular demon. The carving did not budge, as she knew it would not, so she angrily swiped at it again and again, until her arms shook and sweat beaded down her forehead.
It didn’t matter if the poison would be detected, Shinobu would kill that demon even if she had to chase it to the ends of the earth. Though she was poison, she would be sure that creature would eat her, even if she had to stuff herself down its disgusting throat. She steeled herself, standing up and sheathing her katana.
Just as she turned to make the trek back to her abode, a scream tore through the night, high and ragged and feminine. Her sharp eyes glanced side to side, pinpointing the source of the sound, and then she was off in a flash, almost appearing to fly. Her figure was pale against the dark trees, her form soaring high above the forest floor. With each step, she cleared twenty feet or more, vaulting towards the source of the noise. Shinobu cursed herself for not picking up the presence of something malevolent sooner, but even now, she felt nothing.
Could it be that the evil that caused that woman to scream was not a demon? Her brows crossed.
Finally, she reached the end of the forest, gazing up at a dark, lone figure atop a hill. There was a small shrine built around the rocks, and the rich scent of incense sweetened the air. As she inhaled, however, Shinobu picked up the fresher, more cloying scent of bloodshed. The figure was bent, grabbing at something on the ground. She slowed her footsteps, assessing. She could not sense a demonic presence here.
Drawing closer, the Hashira soundlessly slid her katana from its sheathe. The figure on the hill tore something from the ground, and the scent of blood grew sharper. Taking a breath, Shinobu prepared to launch forward.
Before she had the chance, the figure turned. Tall, lean, and inquisitive, it stared down at her, its head tilted a degree to the side. Long, silvery blond hair cascaded down its back and shoulders, bright wide eyes reflecting the light unnaturally. In one hand it held the sinewy meat of a human thigh, and Shinobu felt bile rise in her throat.
“Is someone there?” it called, more cheerfully than Shinobu thought was appropriate. A male voice, although that didn’t matter. It’s not like this is a person, she thought. She released the deadliest form of wisteria poison along her blade, keeping to the shadows as she approached. The creature could no doubt see her, but the Hashira was never one to give up the element of surprise.
“Aw, I can see you, you know?” The demon grinned at her, shrugging almost apologetically. The gesture seemed so human and unnatural that Shinobu felt her eyebrows draw together, confusion apparent on her features. “It’s so brave of you to try so hard to sneak up on me, but it’s okay!”
A blur, almost too fast for the Insect Hashira to follow. The creature’s cheery voice lowered an octave, the tone tainted with pity. “It’s all over now; you don’t have to fight anymore.”
The demon was behind her, a large golden fan pressed to her throat. Shinobu scarcely had time to feel the icy cold sensation of the sharp metal against her skin before her body reacted, turning her around and neatly parrying the fan with the wide end of her sword. She whipped around, her hair flying into her eyes.
“That was impressive! I couldn’t even see you move; you were so fast!” The demon clapped its hands excitedly. “I’m not sure what your goal here is, though. You don’t look like you’d be strong enough to cut off my head!”
“You’re very talkative for a demon!” Shinobu said, her false charm evident with each poisonous word. She fixed a smile to her face, and the friendliness slipped comfortably upwards to mask her visage. Her hand swiped at the hair that had covered her eyes.
Shockingly, in her moment of blindness, the demon made no move to attack. It stood a few paces away, glancing up at full moon in the sky. Its black cloak and red robes fluttered in the wind, and Shinobu made a mental note of how well dressed it was. This demon must be strong to be able to mimic human behaviors so accurately.
“You deserve a dignified death,” the demon remarked. “I’m sure there are many frustrations you wish to voice before you – oh!”
At last, their eyes met. With the demon this close, Shinobu could clearly make out the smooth calligraphy lines carved into its rainbow irises – Upper Rank Two. Her stomach flipped, her joints growing cold with dread and anger. Eyes wide, she felt her grip tighten on her katana. Not ready, a voice whispered in the back of the Hashira’s mind. I’m not yet ready, the poison isn’t strong enough!
“You’re so beautiful!” The demon remarked, a bashful smile slashed across his face. A faint pink dusted his cheeks, and he leaned forward, bringing a hand to cover his mouth. “I’ve never met anyone as beautiful as you! Please, you must tell me your name! I want to keep your memory alive!”
Disgusted, Shinobu took a step back to collect herself. How dare this creature speak to me this way. She took a breath, eyeing the demon. He made no move to attack her. She examined the ground behind him and was dismayed to spy two ripped corpses, likely innocent villagers who had come to pray at this shrine. Anger overtook her, and the warning voice was drowned out. A purple droplet of pure wisteria poison dripped from the tip of her sword to the ground, sizzling a burning hole into the dirt.
“I am Kocho Shinobu,” she spat. “I suppose the murderer of my sister deserves to know who it is that will slay him tonight.”
“Your sister?” Upper Rank Two tilted his head to the side again, eyes wide and clueless. His gaze fell on the bodies behind him, and he sighed, although it seemed to lack any true passion. His face remained impassive; an empty grin plastered on his features. “One of these girls? Rest easy, knowing that she nourished my body and filled my stomach! It is merely the cycle of life.”
“No, you monster,” Shinobu felt her teeth grind together as she spoke, her sword arm shaking in fury. “My sister was a Hashira. She wore this haori. You killed her and left her to die as the sun came up, four years ago.”
“Oh, silly me!” The demon’s hand dropped from his chin to his chest, cupping the place where his heart would be beating if he were human. Shinobu didn’t actually know if demons had heartbeats. “You’ll have to forgive me; it seems I’ve forgotten!”
“I’ll do no such thing!” Shinobu rushed forward, her sword outstretched to impale him. It met its mark – and so did one of the demon’s fingers, tipped with an indigo nail. The sharp appendage plunged into the demon’s skull as Shinobu’s sword cleaved a hole into Upper Rank Two’s chest.
Rapidly, Shinobu released as much poison as she could into his body. The demon batted her away with one arm, the other preoccupied with what appeared to be digging inside his skull.
“Oh, I remember now!” Upper Rank Two pushed Shinobu’s sword away, carelessly ignoring the blood that flowed down his front from her assault. “She was very strong!”
Shinobu sliced at his arm, hoping there was enough toxin coating the blade to seep into any wounds she left. The demon responded with a frown, swatting it away again. The Hashira bit back a cry of frustration, swinging wildly for his head, though she knew it would not hurt him to the degree she desired. The Upper Rank demon slipped a metal fan between her sword and his neck, flipping her momentum and causing Shinobu to lose her footing briefly. She seethed, taking several deep, sharp breaths. His responses were lackluster and flat, not the dramatic villainous speech she’d always pictured in this moment. There was no rage or true bloodlust in his attacks, just tactful misdirection.
“What are you doing?” Shinobu demanded, yanking her sword from his clawed grip. Her breath came in gasps, the exhaustion from her earlier training session threatening to overcome her senses. Shaking, she pierced his hands with her katana blade, eyes narrowed into slits. “Are you playing with me?”
Upper Rank Two looked incredulous. “Playing with you?” he asked, his brows furrowing. “Not at all! I was just waiting for you to be done hitting me! It would be rude to interrupt, you know?”
Shinobu was fairly certain a blood vessel ruptured in her temple. Her blood pressure was likely reaching hypertensive levels just by being here. “Rude?” she spat, aiming for his midsection. “You killed my sister and who knows how many innocent people, and you’re concerned with being rude?”
“Well, yes!” Upper Rank Two dodged the blow easily, sidestepping her attack gracefully. He flashed her a dazzling smile, the light reflecting off his sharp canines. “Just because I’m a demon doesn’t mean I have to be impolite.”
Shinobu stabbed the demon in the calf, injecting more poison into his too-large body. “You kill and eat people, isn’t that impolite already?”
“A man has to eat something!” the demon said with a grin.
Shinobu pulled her next attack and watched. It was almost time now, the brief incubation period reached.
The demon looked at her, eyes narrowing.
The Hashira checked her watch. The second hand ticked menacingly.
The demon frowned and looked up at the sky, holding his hand up between the moon and the horizon in order to measure the time.
Then he collapsed forward into the dirt, just barely managing to catch himself on his hands and knees. Purple-black sludge forced its way up his throat, and Shinobu watched as the demon vomited pure rot onto the stones of the shrine. The poison worked its course.
Upper Rank Two’s flesh seemed to melt from his bones, and he winced, coughing. The demon tried and failed to stand, and Shinobu felt a bolt of sick satisfaction course through her veins at his pain.
“What do you think?” she asked cheerfully, reloading her sword with another dose of wisteria. “Describe how you feel for me! It would be. . . polite.”
The demon’s mouth struggled to form words, decayed as it was, but at last he sat up and began to regenerate. “It feels horrible!” he said happily. “I feel like every cell of my body is being melted down and stabbed ten thousand times over! Did you make that yourself?”
Shinobu grinned. “Do you want some more?”
Upper Rank Two seemed to grin wider. “Let’s see what else you can do!” he said excitedly.
Back and forth they went. Shinobu got the feeling this demon fought mostly with well-aimed brute force, as she was able to easily dodge most of his attacks. Time after time she injected him with poisons and toxins, but none of them seemed to last long enough to permanently incapacitate him.
“Why won’t you die?” Shinobu snarled, angrily slicing his arms to tatters. He looked like a pincushion, blood seeping out of tens of tiny holes she’d poked in his flesh. The Insect Hashira watched in dismay as they healed almost instantly.
“I don’t think your poisons are working anymore,” Upper Rank Two said sadly, eyes wide and wet. “I can feel my body fighting the toxins more quickly now.”
Shinobu shouted in frustration, ducking behind him to deliver a blow to his back. The demon parried it, infuriatingly. If he ate her now, he wouldn’t die. She hadn’t managed to weaken him enough and there was no one around to finish him off. The sunrise was getting closer, however. Could she delay him? Distract him in a deadly fight so he forgot his primal instinct to hide?
That is how Kanae died, her mind supplied, unhelpfully.
Upper Rank Two stood towering over her, eyes apologetic. “Don’t get angry!” he said, his voice calm and bright. “Don’t you have any you haven’t tried yet? I’m sure something is bound to get you the reaction you want soon, we just have to keep trying!”
Shinobu wrinkled her nose in distaste. “You’re mocking me,” she whispered, feeling her rage grow. How dare her sister’s killer pretend he had an ounce of empathy, a shred of respect for others?
The demon shook his head. “I would never!”
The Insect Hashira threw a knife at his throat, coated in a thick layer of wisteria poison. Upper Rank Two’s eyes grew impossibly wider as he got out of the way of the poisonous projectile. It clattered harmlessly to the ground a few feet behind him.
Shinobu’s hair fell from its tight updo, her butterfly clip sliding down the fabric of her haori to rest on the stones. She didn’t dare take her attention from the demon to pick it up, however, eyes trained on the monster before her. Panting, she pointed her katana at Upper Rank Two, regretfully aware of the fact that there was no more poison she could give him. He’d absorbed every drop she’d had on her.
“You really are beautiful,” Upper Rank Two remarked. “I can feel my heart racing. Is that the poison?”
“Yes,” Shinobu said dryly, “But unfortunately, it isn’t killing you.”
“I’m not complaining,” the demon said. “Did I introduce myself?”
“I don’t care who you are,” Shinobu informed him.
“I am Douma,” the demon told her, as though he hadn’t heard what she said. Or perhaps he didn’t care.
“I don’t care,” Shinobu growled.
They stood apart from one another, Shinobu gasping for breath and the demon completely devoid of any injuries. Every blow she’d gotten in on him had vanished in far less time than it had taken her to cause him harm.
“I have to leave,” Douma said sadly. “The sun is coming up.”
Panic caused Shinobu’s adrenaline to spike. She had to kill him now, before he could vanish into the dawn. “I won’t let you get away!” she shouted. She wasn’t sure which way he’d run off to, so she awkwardly stabbed her sword into his chest. Upper Two didn’t try to stop her this time, holding the blade in place with one of his hands. He blinked at her tearfully.
“I’ll be back,” the demon said. “You’ll see me again.”
“I never want to see you again,” Shinobu hissed, shoving her sword deeper into his chest. Douma let out a sound that sounded suspiciously like a moan, and she found her fingers hesitating on her katana hilt.
“Oh, but I simply must see you again.” Upper Two licked his lips, and Shinobu shuddered. “Besides, didn’t you want to slay me?”
Shinobu cursed herself. “Yes,” she admitted.
“So do you want to slay me, or do you never want to see me again?” The demon looked puzzled, and he began chewing on his lower lip, colorful kaleidoscope eyes fixed firmly on hers.
“I want to slay you and then never see you again.” Shinobu ripped her sword from his chest, watching in resignation as the wound immediately stitched back together. A glance at Douma confirmed he’d been watching too. She didn’t suppose she could bleed him to death.
“I think,” the Upper Rank began, “that you aren’t going to be able to kill me this time. Something tells me that, anyway.”
Shinobu raised an eyebrow. “Was it possibly the lack of poison and the fact that no injury I give you lasts more than two seconds?”
Douma thought for a moment, bringing a hand to his lips. “I think so!” he exclaimed excitedly, grinning at her. “All of those things seem to be related.”
The Insect Hashira stared at him, eyelid twitching in annoyance.
Douma blinked at her. She shook her head, and he laughed.
“No one ever said I was a genius, Shinobu,” he stated.
“Don’t call me that,” the Insect Pillar snapped.
Upper Rank Two’s eyes lit up. “Does that mean there’s something you’d let me call you instead – ah!”
The first rays of the sun peeked over the horizon, painting the world a beautiful golden-blue. Shinobu hurriedly attempted to stab Douma again, but the slippery bastard of a demon was too quick.
“I’ll see you again soon!” his irritating, sing-song voice called. There was the harsh sound of some sort of stringed instrument, and then he was gone, leaving Shinobu alone at the shrine with two half-eaten corpses and no slain demon to make up for it.
She cursed herself loudly, finally daring to sheathe her katana. Frowning, she searched the ground for her hairpin, disliking the feeling of her hair on her neck. The minutes passed like hours as she looked, until finally she came to a cold realization.
Her hairpin was gone.