Tsuki ✔️COMPLETE

Chapter 8: The Throne

Jiritsu Capital Fortress, Jiritsu

Takumi had always been taught not to stare. You looked people in the eye when they talked to you, but staring at someone you were not conversing with was just rude. He found himself looking away quickly so many times lately. The collective of individuals in Nisshoku warranted a lot of staring but that last thing he wanted to do was annoy anyone. Not after what he had seen that day.

Taisho buried his father's body in that courtyard. Without even being asked, Hanto had taken a pick axe and shovel to the frozen earth and their leader had laid his body to rest in an almost peaceful way. Takumi had killed him. He had laid his hand on the old man's head and he thought about what would be the quickest, most humane way to put him out of his misery.

But then he remembered what Taisho had said about his mother, the fear she lived in. How she tried to use her Collector gift to save others from his temper.

When his stomach lurched at the memory, his body took over. The old man's skull had crumpled like paper, like it imploded on itself. The skin sagged as the structure gave way and the shattered bones poked through in sharp edges. Sections of loose skin tore and to Takumi's bewilderment, the fine edges of the shattered bones were tipped with a diamond-like edge. He had increased the pressure so drastically that the edges of the bones had been compressed into crystals.

Who had led him to his new room in the castle was a blur in his mind. He had rushed passed Chikuroshi at one point, his vision tunnelling and his ears ringing. He knew he was going to throw up and he did not want anyone to see him do it. He had to hold it together until the door was shut.

Tears streamed down his face and his throat burned. His chest ached. He could still taste the metallic hint of blood in the air from Akiraoni's bloody massacre. He clutched the basin long after he was sure he was done, scared if he moved it would come back.

A soft knock gently rumbled the door. Too soft.

"Hello?" he croaked.

"Takumi?" called back a woman's voice.

Who was this?

"Um..." Takumi mumbled, wondering if he should hide the basin. Did he need an excuse to give this person? "Come in."

The door slid open quietly and to his surprise, Takumi saw the deathly pale but strikingly beautiful woman standing in his doorway. Taisho's wife, swathed in soft beaded silk.

"Hello, Takumi." she said softly. Where was her accent from? "Chikuroshi said you looked unwell. Are you alright?"

"Uh..." Was there any point in lying? He felt so small and childlike suddenly. "No."

"Oh, amora." she said, her voice genuine and sympathetic. "I'm so sorry."

He felt embarrassed for himself but not judged as she came to his side and rubbed his back comfortingly. She had a motherly touch, feeling that energy from her put him at ease a little.

"Did Chikuroshi send you to check on me?"

She shook her head.

"I came on my own accord. He mentioned you looked queasy, so I went to find you."

"I'm sorry you had to come check on me. I don't even know your name yet." Takumi said.

She brushed away the hair stuck to his sweaty forehead.

"My name is Amakaya." she smiled. "And it's not a problem. This is a very hard place to be a young man."

"What do you mean?" he asked. After the words left his lips he clearly recalled how unusual his circumstances were. Most young men were not doing this with their lives. There was a reason he was the youngest here.