Hakkai opened his eyes to the sight of a solid slab of rock not five centimeters in front of his face.

He blinked, trying to remember why there should be solid rock in front of him, and failing to come up with any logical explanation.  Hadn't he been lying on the bank of a river?  He stared blankly at the stone for a minute, completely disoriented. It was granite, the part of his mind that wasn't consumed with confusion observed helpfully.  Chips of matte feldspar and shiny black mica embedded within a smoky quartz matrix that reflected glints of flickering orange light.  The rock was rough-hewn, not polished.  Hakkai could see the pale scars on the stone where it had been shaped with sharp metal tools.  Where am I?  

He turned his head slightly, and realized that he had been staring at one wall of a much larger room.  He was lying on his back on a pallet of woven straw, with a blanket bundled up beneath his head that served as a pillow.  The orange light came from a large hearth set into the far wall.  The hearth, also, had been hewn out of solid stone.  Winding streamers of smoke rose up from the bright flames to vanish through a fissure in the wall above the fireplace that acted as a chimney.

A sense of movement against his side interrupted further survey of the room.  Something unfolded from where it had been curled against him, and a familiar white-scaled head rose into his view.  "Kyuu."

Ah, no....  Hakkai flinched back from sight of the little dragon so close, bracing himself for the surge of the Minus Wave that he knew was sure to follow.  He'd thought Jeep had gotten safely away from him.  The dragon should have left while he still had the chance.

Hakkai felt....nothing.  No dark aura, no surge of rage, no lust for bloodshed.  Nothing.  It was as if all traces of the Minus Wave had suddenly vanished.  Cautiously, he re-opened his eyes.  For a single, hopeful moment he wondered if his limiters had been restored.   A glance down at one shoulder, however, was enough to put that possibility to rest.  There was no mistaking the dark, twisting pattern of the vine mark that snaked across his bare skin.  I don't understand.

Someone had tended his injuries.  There was still pain, but it was distant, dulled, as if it didn't really belong to him at all.  Bandages had been wound tightly around his chest, binding up broken ribs.  His left arm had been splinted both above and below the elbow, and was immobilized in a sling.  His legs may also have been treated, but the wide swath of a woven blanket lay over them and shielded them from view.  His right arm, he tested gingerly.  It felt like someone had used healing magic on the muscle in his shoulder that he had torn when he had dragged himself up onto the riverbank.  He could move it now without any difficulty at all.

Jeep chirped happily and butted his head against Hakkai's raised palm.  The little dragon's wounds had also been wrapped with gauze.  Hakkai felt the corners of his lips quirk into a faint smile.  Since it didn't seem like he was in any danger of turning on Jeep in mindless youkai rage, he could relax in relief at the knowledge that his little friend was alive and well.  Careful of the wicked talons that now replaced his human nails, he gingerly brushed at Jeep's feathery mane with the pads of his fingers.  "Yes," he murmured, his voice altered to a rough baritone by his youkai throat, and a little scratchy from his near drowning in the river, "I'm glad to see you, too." 

"He's very devoted to you," said a quiet voice.  "He hasn't once left your side."

Hakkai stilled.  There were two women in the room as well, both of them youkai.  Winged youkai.  One sat at a table to the left of the fire, her booted feet propped up on an empty chair.  The other, the one who had spoken, stood near the wall at the foot of the pallet where he lay.  She was standing in front of a high counter that was stacked with strange equipment and rows of bottles that were very similar to the items he imagined might be found in Yaone-san's alchemical laboratory. 

The sight triggered a disjointed cascade of memories, hazy and fragmented like fever dreams--of lying in a nest of warm, dry blankets on the floor directly in front of the blazing hearth as heat slowly seeped back into his chilled body...of seeing the soft green flare of healing ki shining above his useless left arm...of the touch of gentle hands tilting his head up, and the sharp taste of some bitter liquid on his tongue. Medicine?  He could only hope. They had gone to an awful lot of trouble if they only intended to poison him.

Still unbalanced, with too many holes in his memory to put together an accurate picture of who his current hosts were or what they wanted, he fell back on the comfortable and safe patterns of formal politeness.  "Pardon me, but are you the ones who saved me?"

The youkai who was standing gave a pleased little smile.  However, when she spoke, she did not address him, but turned instead to the woman sitting at the table.  "I win," she announced smoothly, her voice brimming with satisfaction.

The woman at the table hissed in irritation.  She shot a glare in Hakkai's direction as she pushed to her feet. She wore a red flannel shirt, belted around the waist, and had a scarlet headband around her forehead.    Hakkai thought she may have been the one he had found him...how long ago was it?  Last night?  Last week?  He had no way to measure how much time had passed.  She raked straight brown hair back from her face, reaching into the pocket of a pair of black jeans. "How can you be sure?  He could be faking."

"He's not faking," the other said with certainty.  "Don't you trust the dragon?"

"No."  The word was accompanied by a vehement shake of her head.  "I don't care what his ki patterns looked like.  Nobody who's in their right mind laughs like that when they're dying."  But the surly response was accompanied by motion as the woman pulled something gold and shiny from her pocket, and flipped it through the air.  The smiling woman caught it easily, and slid it into the pocket of her gray woolen dress.

The woman in gray promptly turned to Hakkai and gave a little bow, her mousy brown ringlets falling forward to hide dark brown eyes.  "Please forgive us.  My name is Hari, and this is my sister, Ruri.  We have the honor of allowing you to be a guest in our home."

"Ah," Hakkai managed a pleasant smile, pointedly ignoring the fact that they had been talking about him as if he wasn't there only a few moments earlier.  "Thank you very much for your hospitality."

Ruri walked over to the side of his pallet, stopping right next to it.  Her rangy frame loomed over him, broadcasting threat.  He had to force himself to stay relaxed, although he couldn't help but feel at a bit of a disadvantage in his current injured state.  No doubt that's what she had intended.  Her dark eyes smoldered with suspicion, and something else, something that looked like anger, or active dislike.  "You're not one of us," she said sharply.  As if to emphasize her point, the black bat wings on her back unfurled slightly, casting the pallet and the wall beyond it into shadow.  "You're not even from this area.  How come you're not crazy, like the rest of the youkai outside?"

"Ruri," Hari rebuked gently.

"No," Ruri said harshly.  "I think he owes us that much at least.  Why are you here, and how come exposure to the dark aura didn't affect you?"

Hakkai returned her gaze without flinching, his lips curving into an automatic, reassuring smile.  Harmless.  Don't mind me I'm harmless.  Really.  "I was only passing through," he said pleasantly, in answer to her first question.  Best at this point not to mention his traveling companions, or their mission--these youkai hadn't given any indication that they recognized who he was.  "I ran into some trouble along the way."

"Don't tell me, let me guess.  Winged youkai, right?"  Yes, that was definitely anger snapping in her eyes.  Her fists clenched at her sides.  "They attacked you, of course.  How many of them did you kill?"

Ah.  That was a loaded question.  Had she seen the site of the battle up on the road?  Hakkai knew better than to try and argue that it had been self-defense.  It was fairly evident that these youkai and the ones who had attacked them probably belonged to the same clan. 

"Ruri," Hari materialized beside her sister, one hand falling firmly upon the shoulder of the red flannel shirt.  "Our guest has been through quite an ordeal.  I'm sure he's hungry, and tired.  You can ask him questions later."  Steel, there, beneath the velvet of her voice.  No arguments to the contrary would be tolerated.

Ruri didn't even try.  Closing her mouth with an irritable snap, she strode back to the table, and gathered up a sheaf of papers from where she had been sitting.  "I'll be close by," she announced loudly, glancing over at Hakkai to be sure that he heard and understood.  She gave her sister a little nod.  "Call me if you need me."  She walked out of the room through what looked like a tunnel built into the wall.

The youkai in the gray dress bowed to Hakkai apologetically.  "Please forgive my sister.  She has a hard time getting used to strangers."  She straightened.  "Can you drink something?  I have some herbal tea that will help with your injuries, and more nourishing food, if you can manage."

"Yes, please."

Hari went over to the fire, and placed a kettle on a hook over the flames.  Then she walked to the workbench, and began collecting things from different jars, combining them in a small marble bowl.  "I'm afraid you'll have to stay with us a little while," she said, without looking at him.  "I've done what I can to start the healing process, but your injuries are still very serious."

"You took a risk, didn't you?" he observed quietly.  "It could have been dangerous to bring me here.  What if I had been insane?"

Hari shot him an appraising look.  "To be honest, you're no danger to anyone in your current condition.  That was why you were allowed to stay, without even needing an extra guard."  She gave a small shrug.  "If you had done anything to attack us, or given any sign of the madness, we would have moved you immediately to..." she hesitated, "...to someplace safe."

"I see."  He digested that for a moment.  "You don't seem to have been affected by the Minus Wave, either."

"We were lucky."  There was a dry, scraping sound as she used a small pestle to grind the contents of the bowl.  "This place, where we have lived for generations, blocks the advance of the dark aura.  Down here we're safe from its power."

Of course, Hakkai thought, with a sudden flash of insight.  We're underground.  He'd heard rumors of a place, the town of Tofugai, where the advance of the Minus Wave had been delayed because the town was located at the bottom of a deep gorge.  Yakumo, the youkai that they had met recently on their travels, and his foster children had been living in a cave that had offered them limited protection from the evil influence.  The Minus Wave had difficulty seeping into stone.

...But as fortunate as it was for him that these youkai appeared to have maintained their sense of self, Hakkai couldn't help but feel a grim sense of foreboding.  Tofugai had vanished without a trace.  Yakumo's cave hadn't saved him in the end.  Even stone was not proof against the Minus Wave forever, even though Hakkai could detect none of the taint here yet.  Just how far underground are we?

"There are drawbacks to living this way, of course," Hari was still speaking.  "We can't close ourselves off completely from the outside world.  We still need food and other consumables.  Someone has to get our supplies.  The dark aura is still a danger to us, even here.  Our only defense is to limit our exposure, and to practice a form of meditation that allows us to strengthen our will, and purify our spirit from the corruption in the world outside."  She set the pestle aside, and brushed the contents of the bowl into a ceramic mug.  "Even so, people leave and don't come back.  Some are weak and can't resist the aura.  For others, it's a choice.  It's too hard for them, to live underground and know that they may never fly freely in the sky again."

The kettle was steaming.  As Hari poured water over the contents of the mug and allowed the tea to steep, Hakkai got his good elbow under him, and levered himself into a sitting position.  Whatever Hari-san's opinion might be, he wasn't a total invalid.  He settled his shoulder blades against the wall, and took the opportunity while Hari's back was turned to run a competent hand over his blanketed legs.  As he had suspected, the left was splinted much as his left arm had been.  The knee of the right was braced, but had no other wrappings.  A brief flare of healing ki told him that the knee was almost completely healed.

Jeep flapped in the air above him, circling until he got settled.  Then he dropped down into his customary place on Hakkai's shoulder, his claws prickling, but not breaking the skin.  Hari smiled as she came over.  "He's very cute," she said, as she held out the cup of tea.  Hakkai hesitated to take it, glancing at the sharp, cruel talons of his right hand, wondering how to curl them around the cup without accidentally injuring her in the process.  He settled for holding out his hand, palm up, and letting her set it in his grasp. 

He raised the dark blue cup to his lips--and barely avoided spilling its entire contents down his front as the ceramic rim collided with his elongated canines.  It was odd, how some things came to him so instinctively in this form, and other things most certainly did not.  He adjusted the set of his mouth and took an experimental sip of the steaming liquid, studiously ignoring the curious look that Hari was casting in his direction. 

The bitter taste of the tea was familiar; it was the same medicine that he had been given before.  Light caught the surface of the dark liquid as he lowered the cup again, and he found himself staring down, arrested by the sight of his own reflection.  He shivered and quickly closed his eyes.

There was a reason he always avoided looking into mirrored surfaces, those few times he had removed his limiters on his own.  He had seen his youkai reflection only once.  The memories came to the surface now in a dizzy rush of clarity--stirred up by the brush he'd had with the Minus Wave and the reaffirmation of his history as Cho Gonou.  He'd seen his reflection that one night, over four years ago.  The night he had lost his humanity.  It was as if he was suddenly back there again, crouched on the stone floor of the dungeon of Hyakugen Mao's castle, staring in numb disbelief at the alien image looking back at him from the ruddy surface of a pool of his own blood.  Pointed ears.  Slit pupil gold eyes.  The winding green threads of spreading vines standing out in sharp contrast as if they had been tattooed across the pale skin.

Youkai.  Worse than youkai.  Gold eyes were the mark of itan.

The reflection was not quite the same now, of course.  He'd given up an eye to that demon from the Dark Crow clan.  It was probably not the smartest thing he'd ever done.  But back then he had only wanted to complete one last task and then die, so it seemed like a small sacrifice at the time.  As a direct result of that action, his reflection now had mismatched eyes.  One false round pupil eye that matched the green of his eyes when he'd been human.  And one real slit pupil eye with a gold iris that was inescapably part of his own flesh.  Itan.  Like the gold of Goku's eyes, but different.  Hakkai's status as itan had its origins in murder, and blood.  Sinner.

His taloned hand clenched reflexively around the handle of the mug as a tremor of self-loathing hit him.  Before the ceramic vessel could break, he bolted the rest of the scalding hot medicine and set the empty cup safely aside.  It was only after the mug had left his hand that he could bring himself to open his eyes again.

He needed his limiters back.  He never should have taken them off.

Hari cleared her throat beside him, and he realized that he had been silent and brooding for far too long.  He hoped that she hadn't read too much into his actions.  For that matter, he hoped she hadn't read too much into his rather unusual youkai features, either.  "I'm sorry," he said with an embarrassed smile.  "I'm afraid my mind was wandering.  Thank you for the medicine."

"You're welcome."  Hari wordlessly picked up the ceramic mug, then reached into the pocket of her dress with her other hand.  "Here," she pressed a tiny object into the center of his palm.  "This was caught in your clothing when we found you.  I thought you might like to have it back." 

Hakkai didn't have to look down at the object to know that it was one of his silver ear cuffs.  Only one.  "Thank you," he said. He steeled himself, knowing it was useless, but needing to ask anyway, "You didn't happen to find any others that looked like this?"

She shook her head.  "I'm sorry."

He bit back a surge of disappointment.  "Ah."

"I can ask Ruri to go back to the place she found you and look for more, if you'd like."

He forced a smile.  "I wouldn't want to trouble her.  You both have done so much for me already."

"No, it's no trouble."  Hari set the ceramic cup down on the tabletop with a faint clinking noise, her back to him.  "It's a demon power limiter, isn't it?"

He saw no reason to lie to her.  "Part of a set, actually," he answered.

"I see."  She turned to face him with a little smile.  "Well, I promised you something to eat.  I'll go and get some food for you, if you don't mind waiting here."

"Not at all."

She inclined her head slightly, and then crossed to the stone arch that formed the entrance to the room.  But once there, she paused.  With her back still facing him, she spoke.  "I know it's none of my business," she said quietly, "however, I couldn't help but notice things that tell me you've spent more time as a human than as a youkai."  Her long talons settled on the edge of the doorway, and her eyes were fixed on them instead of him.  "I feel that I should warn you.  Limiters have their advantages.  But they also make it easy--too easy, to forget about what you are.  Nothing comes without a price."  She removed her hand slowly from the doorframe.  "I just thought you should know."  Then she was gone.

Hakkai looked down at his own hand, lying on the blankets in front of him.  He turned it palm-up, as if examining the dark green, leafy pattern that crossed it, and wound around his fingers to the claws.  She was right.  It was so easy to forget, with his limiters on.  So impossible to forget when he looked at himself in this form, as youkai.

He felt a pain in his chest then, something that had nothing to do with his injuries.  Old pain.  Familiar pain.  The kind that usually only came to him on rainy nights, or after a run of bad dreams.  Kanan.  Hakkai let his head fall back against the wall, as he felt his mouth curve into a bitter smile.  Hari-san's well-intentioned warning cut into him like sharpened steel.  Everything has a price.   Oh yes, thank you.  I already understand that quite well.  

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