Who Cares What My Name Is Anyway?

清浄無垢 - Seijōmuku

"Kono tabi wa, nusa mo toriaezu..."

"Hey, Shoyō-kun, why the gloomy face?" a sudden voice from behind immediately interrupted the grey-haired demon's reciting. "Come on, don't give me that look! I took you all the way to this place and all you do is keep frowning at me? You could have at least smiled a little and tell me how beautiful the leaves are or something!"

"Kanemasa-sama, I am in fact quietly appreciating the beauty of the red leaves by reciting a poem – until I was interrupted." Shoyō calmly replied to the pouting other man, a fair lad with long, luscious hair like a black waterfall woven in one neat braid over his shoulder, with one strip of red hair interlaced elegantly throughout. This man was no doubt one of the Minamoto, though lacking the strong, fearless features of Hiromasa or regal imposingness of Yorimitsu. In fact, not just his looks, his very being exuded an innocence so youthful that was impossible to believe could be possessed by someone his age. More than anyone, Shoyō, who long ago agreed to the contract that made him the shikigamiof this man, Minamoto no Kanemasa, understood this. Carrying himself properly as a member of the proud Genji surely wasn't his top concern; it was as though his mind was filled with nothing but poetry and scenery to the detriment of even his fashion sense – Shoyō failed to ever understand his master's insistence to always wear that cyan haori that eye-searingly clashed with every single of his kimono. Even the decision to make Shoyō his shikigami in the first place was so he can have someone accompanying him on sight-seeing trips after sight-seeing trips and reciting poetry duets after poetry duets rather than to improve his onmyōdō skills – which resulted in many warnings that it could cause great trouble one day, yet went unheeded anyway.

Kanemasa gave Shoyō headaches more times than not, but the latter still saw no problem with staying loyal to the former, not just because of their shared love for beautiful words and beautiful scenery, but there was something about Kanemasa that he couldn't help but notice, something that seemingly reminded him of the past...

"Don't make me laugh. This isn't your 'quietly appreciating' face. Normally, you look way more relaxed and content." Kanemasa said, still pouting, while driving his fingertips into Shoyō's cheeks to force his lips into a smile, "You're acting really weird lately, you know. If you're having problems or something, just go ahead and tell me, don't keep me in the dark like this! Besides," he changed the subject while giving his shikigami a mock glare, "how many times do I have to keep telling you that it's not Kanemasa-sama?"

"I'm sorry." Shoyō looked away and said, "Kane-san."

oOo

"What are you?"

Having the first words his older brother said to him that day being that question thrown at him in the coldest manner possible when he shook him out of his sleep should have taken Hizamaru aback, and yet it didn't. To him, it was just Higekiri being as forgetful as usual, no more, no less, and his patience had been running too thin from shaking his brother awake too long to notice anything different. "What do you mean 'what are you'? Yes, I appreciate your trying to practice remembering my name, but now isn't the time to prioritize that when we have a ton of work to do!" without letting Higekiri answer, Hizamaru pulled him up from the futon, changed his clothes within the blink of an eye and forcibly dragged him out of the room and down the hallway, leaving a trail of angry stomping noises in his path, accompanied by constant grumbling from his mouth, letting Higekiri's sock-clad heels drag on the wooden floor.

Or rather who he thought was Higekiri. Inside the body of the blond sword was a jumbled mess of shock, bewilderment and utter confusion as the real soul inside that body at the time failed to comprehend just what strange place he woke up in, where on earth that dratted Minamoto went or why this green-haired person in hideous clothing – if he could call that black full-body fabric wrap clothing – had to force him into equally hideous clothing, which was starting to itch for good measure, and drag him down a strange corridor. Everything around him was so alien, he couldn't even get annoyed at the fact he was being dragged like an oversized stuff animal. There was only one thing he was sure of amidst all his confusion, which was that this all had got to be a dream, a dream which he wanted to wake up from by any means necessary, even death.

And that he would give anything to be able to drink the blood and eat the intestines of the damned Minamoto who inflicted this dream on him.