Page 24 of The Tainted and the Tamed
What was Haruki to do? Wail and cry? Bemoan his vampire instincts? If he admitted it to himself, she was just another meal. It no longer inspired anger towards himself.
It was only more of the same sadness he’d carried around with him for hundreds of years.
What if Daisuke was right? What if the last time he’d felt any joy was in the heat of battle? Was hunting like a predator supposed to replicate that?
When the final stones were placed and the grave filled in with dirt, Haruki set the pair of joss sticks into the mound, where her grave marker ought to be.
“I don’t suppose you brought matches,” Haruki said, his tone a touch conciliatory.
Daisuke produced them with a flourish. The three of them clapped their hands together as one, asking for mercy for Chiyo in their own way.
But Haruki didn’t even know who he prayed to. He hardly knew why. It had been a long time since he’d felt like anything he did mattered.
When Daisuke raised his head, signaling the end of his prayers, Haruki said quietly, “I’ll go with you.”
The answer was loud enough to startle the night birds. “What’s that?”
“I said I’ll go with you.” Haruki tried not to grit his teeth. “Let’s go hunting.”
“Good. You’ll see I’m right.”
Daisuke slapped his back so hard, Haruki nearly took a step forward onto Chiyo’s grave.
Goodbye, Chiyo,he said, stepping back from the upturned soil.I hope you rest.
I hope it isn’t too late for you.
He squared his shoulders toward the mountain and set off.
Chapter 12
Murasaki
Since childhood, Murasaki had suffered from lung ailments—enough to make her slower than other children while playing, and enough to make her nervous when the typhoon and rainy seasons came, bringing days of rain and therefore mold. As a teen, she’d developed a searing pain in her throat that made it difficult to breathe and talk, the constriction leaving her sure her end was near every night.
Yet she went on. It wasn’t as though she got used to it. Who could ever? As horrible as struggling to breathe was every single time a flare happened, she had managed then.
Then the factory made it all so much worse.
It wasn’t as if finding another position would’ve changed anything. As the years went on—as progress and development intruded on the landscape—the whole city was infected with cough-inducing smoke. There was no escaping it.
Familiar streets took on a yellow sheen. The tops of buildings were smeared with ash, glazed by factory exhaust day after day. Murasaki was glad her mother had suggested coming to Fusae. She was even beginning to enjoy her life here.
And then she woke the morning before the autumn festival, gasping for air. At last, Murasaki finally knew something worse than the feeling of being unable to fully breathe.
At her first gasp awake, her airways clogged by phlegm, her old fears came roaring back. After feeling better for several days, the return of her symptoms wasn’t only frightening. It broke her heart.
This time, Murasaki could not hide it. She bolted out of bed and on to all fours, desperate to clear her throat. The racking coughs—so severe she began to gag—woke the other maids immediately.
“Saki!” Eri exclaimed, stumbling across the corner of a futon as she hastened across the room. She was at Murasaki’s side in an instant.
“Ms. Mukai?” the younger girls asked. “What do we do?”
“Get the physician.”
Frantically gesturing, Murasaki mimed hitting her back. Eri complied, landing a hard thump between her shoulder blades. The click of a lantern brought a soft glow to the room.
Blinking in the sudden light, Kanako handed her a handkerchief.
