Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction ❯ The Things I Do For You ❯ The Things I Do For You ( Chapter 1 )

The Things I Do For You

 

The things I do for that man, I think to myself. Staring into the small fire in my garden I have let my mind wander to things best left alone. But it always comes back to him. I've covered up murders, buried insane medical experiments and even fought one of the gods of death for him. Things that would have driven any sane person to an early grave. By this point, I think my hands are just as bloody and dirty as his are. But I don't think I can save him this time. I find it both disturbing and fitting that he will die at the hands of a female when he's killed so many of them. Poetic justice, I suppose. Ironic. No matter how one looks at it.

 

I hear movement and raise my head from where I have been staring at the fire. Just in time to see her move from the shadows of the garden and into the circle of light cast by the flames. She is deceptively small. But there is a strength and grace about her. Her steps are quick and light as they carry her closer to the fire. She pauses on the other side, just across from me and sits down. She is incredibly lovely in the firelight. I know beauty when I am witness to it in what ever form it comes. Her features are finely boned and she is more ethereal than any goddess come to earth. Of course, that is what she is. A goddess. Or the closest thing to one that my eyes will ever be fortunate enough to see.

 

She seems to fill even the sizeable space of my garden. The very air around me seems to hum and vibrate with her power. I had always known she was powerful beyond any shinigami.

 

There is a silence between us for a while. It is not an uncomfortable one. Merely two individuals enjoying a quiet night in a garden. But it doesn't last. Soon we begin to speak the reasons we are both there. Though neither of us seem to be terribly happy about it.

 

“Would it do any good for me to ask you not to kill him?” I ask.

 

“I think you know the answer to that,” she says.

 

We fall into silence again. Long enough that the fire starts to die down. She waves a hand over it and it springs to life again without any added fuel.

 

She puts her elbows on her knees and sits studying me as though I am a mildly interesting book or piece of art.

 

“I forget sometimes.”

 

“Forget what?” I ask.

 

“That one person's enemy is another person's friend.”

 

I nod without saying anything else. There is nothing else to be said for that. It is the truth.

 

“Why?” she asks. She seems truly puzzled.

 

“He's my friend,” I say.

 

“Your loyalties are misplaced,” she says.

 

I shrug. “That is not my opinion of things.”

 

She smiles at me from across the fire. There is no malice in her smile. No smirk of knowing more than I might ever know. It is merely a smile. Somewhat bitter but infinitely gentle at the same time.

 

“Most of us only hope to have friends so steadfast as you are. What will you do when he dies at my hands?” she asks.

 

“The only thing I can do,” I answer. “Live.”

 

She smiles at me again. “What would you do to keep him safe from me for one more night?”

 

There is no proposition in her voice nor in her body language. I, of all people, know how to read something like that at thirty paces. She stands, still studying me carefully. A thought crosses my mind that is utterly ludicrous before I can stop it.

 

She tilts her head for a moment as though listening to some far off voice. I can not help but notice the fall of dark hair away from alabaster skin. Indescribably lovely. As I have said, I know beauty when I see it. I know I will never have the privilege to see anyone or anything like her again.

 

“Are you so certain you would fight me for him?” she says finally.

 

She has heard the thought go through my mind as though I had spoken it aloud. I had expected as much from her.

 

“I would,” I say.

 

She inclines her head to me. “The choice of weapons is yours.”

 

I reach to my side for my katana and stand as well. She holds her hands out over the fire and a similar weapon appears within the flames. She draws it and we walk to the side of the garden where there is more room to maneuver.

 

“What are your terms?” she asks.

 

“You've already said that my plea to not kill him will fall on deaf ears. My terms are that, if I am the victor, he is killed quickly.”

 

“Is that all?” she says.

 

“That is all I wish.”

 

She nods. “So be it.”

 

“What are your terms?” I ask. My mouth is suddenly dry. I do not need to hear her answer. Not really. I already know what she is to say.

 

“That I take his life as it pleases me.”

 

I nod. I know it would be pointless to attempt to negotiate with her.

 

We begin in proper form. A bow to one another then several steps away. Circling. I have the reach of her but she is stronger, faster and better trained than I am. The fight is over in less than a minute. I am on my knees bleeding from a myriad of cuts. I didn't even manage to touch her once.

 

She lays her sword to one side then takes my katana from me. She pulls me to my feet and stands looking at me for a moment.

 

“You've never been beaten before,” she says.

 

“Not in a very long time,” I say.

 

She reaches up and touches the cut on my cheek. Her fingers are calloused, something I hadn't expected. I feel the cut close almost instantly.

 

“I will grant you your terms, even though I won,” she says.

 

I blink and look at her oddly.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because, you, unlike him, are an honorable man.”

 

I almost laugh. “I run a brothel. What honor is there in that?”

 

“I have studied the ladies here. You have never allowed them to be abused. They are free to come and go as they please. You take excellent care of those in your charge. You are a genuinely kind man and a friend beyond what is deserved.”

 

She stretches up and kisses me softly on one cheek and is gone. Leaving me to wonder if I had dreamed the whole exchange. I think I have fallen asleep by the fire until I reach to pick up my katana. Another sword lies next to it. The scabbard is beautifully carved and the sword within the finest made I have ever seen. A gift from a goddess because I had fought for the life of a friend.

 

I would trade the sword in a heartbeat to keep him from dying if I could. I know I can not. I know it is only a matter of time. I turn to walk inside. He meets me at the door.

 

“I was beginning to worry about you,” he says. “Who were you talking to out here?”

 

I smile faintly at him. I know my smile is sad. I look at him longer than I normally would. Some part of me seeking to memorize the lines of his face for when I can no longer look at it.

 

“I was only talking to the fire.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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