Crane Wife AU

[harsher]

KAMIKAKUSHI ( ensemble ) A long time ago, beyond an old railroad under the river, there was a town filled with spirits and old gods. It has laws as old as tree roots, where myths are just as real as flesh and blood, looking at you across the table with tea-stained lips.

Comments

[blessed_is_he]

There is a building near the very edge of town, an unusually large structure of three stories. The first floor is an open storefront, though it is not immediately obvious what merchandise is sold there, a beautiful, elegantly appointed space, with delicate silken hangings and lanterns hanging from the ceiling that are lit only in the evenings. During the day, the smells of food cooking fill the space, and customers pass through for mid-day meals, but there is a different kind of clientele in the evenings - for tea and conversation, to see and be seen, conversations between locals and strangers vital to the conduct of business and trade and many other things in between. The second floor seems made up of only a few private rooms. From the topmost floor, there are windows with a view of the vast rice paddies and fields that start just outside of town, stretching all the way to the dense forest at the foot of the distant mountains.

The occupants of the house are seldom seen, but often discussed. The owner was an elegant and mysterious lady, some townspeople insist, or a handsome man, or perhaps there were two women, both beauties in their own right, one pale and and one dark. Jumbled though the stories were, most people seemed to agree that since the house had been built in their town eight years ago, the weather had been favorable, the harvests had been plentiful, and the citizens had all prospered. The town had started to become more prominent, a prime destination for merchants and other visitors, some just passing through while others sought their fortunes, offering plenty of traffic and exchange within the area. Some of the older townsfolk still recalled prior years of famine and hardship, and were inclined to look on the house - if not its strange occupants - as a good omen; the younger generation saw it as a permanent fixture, a place that dispensed sweets and other treats if they were polite, or stray tantalizing glimpses of a few figures moving about on the upper floors.

Justin awakens in the evening with a pleasant sense of anticipation. Today was a rest day, and no lanterns would need to be lit, not while the moon was so bright and full in the sky. He was rather proud of what he'd made of himself in this town, choosing it for an experiment after having achieved an eighth tail and almost seven hundred years of age - first fully refining his abilities to transform into human form and maintain it flawlessly and then creating this little waystation for humans and supernatural folk to mingle in relative safety, the growing industry and prosperity of the town creating the perfect environment for strangers to pass through without remark. He was owed some indulgence for his hard work, and he knows exactly how he would like to start things off.

He sits up in his bed, the sleeves of his robe falling open around him in a billow of fine silks, revealing flawless skin, almost as luminously pale as the moon. "Stiva," he calls - not a command, but a gentle coaxing - a quietly confident plea, the sighing out of earnest desire in the two short syllables.

The tengu had been an unexpected and deeply appreciated gift, appearing in his life on the eve of his trial and staying close ever since. By now he knows he couldn't possibly do without the tengu anymore, the biting and serious wit, the fierce protectiveness and incisive commentary, the sheer pleasure of his simple presence - to say nothing of the other kinds of pleasure they had learned to bring to each other over the past few years.