[AU] あやかし狩り – Demon Hunting

A historical fantasy Heian period AU starring the Four Demonly Kings.

Warning for mild violence, body horror and non-explicit sensuality – this is a noticeably more serious story than the main PPC spin-off.

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Historical elements in this story may not be entirely accurate, as the writer of this blog is not Murasaki Shikibu and has not experienced the Heian period, and some artistic license has to be taken.

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There were three things in this world from which there was no escape: death, disease, and the sacred hunting arrows of Tomiyama no Urato.

It was a night of no clouds and no stars, just a gibbous moon pouring a harsh silver glow upon all creation. The forest was dressed thick in the vibrant red of autumn, red above, red below, fallen leaves carpeting the ground in a vibrant shade. Light silver upon leaves red, like the gleam of a sharp blade over a sea of fresh blood. Not a sound, not a gust of wind, all seemed frozen in silence.

Then came the sound of rapid feet upon leaves and breaking branches. Someone was running in terror – a creature with the looks of an old man, clothing in scraps of rags caked in blackened blood, sickly skin riddled with patches of rotten flesh, and maggots crawling out of the gaping hole where one of its eyes should be. This was a yōkai – one not so long ago mimicked the cry of infants and devoured unfortunate travellers. Once fearsome, it could do no more than frantically run, not knowing where to hide, not daring to pause.

It would never see the next moon.

An arrow whistled past the monster's face, leaving just a slight cut on its festering skin before piercing the nearest tree. The monster heaved a sigh of relief… a mere blink before it shrieked in abject horror, then collapsed to the ground convulsing in agony. The arrow was never aimed at it, nor did it miss – it was the last among many already embedding themselves in nearby trees, meant to erect a kekkai barrier that bound the monster in place. Doom was certain; the monster looked up and saw the looming figure of a tall human man approaching.

"Makin' the enemy naïvely think they've escaped, a favourite trick of mine," the man said. "To think ya can run from me, how foolish. Before ya beg for yer life, remember the countless innocent lives you took."

In one stroke, the monster's head rolled to the ground, its blood becoming one with the red leaves.

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Tomiyama no Urato was an interesting man. Though an onmyōji of the court, he held not much interest in poetry and fineries. Rather than paper talismans and divining the stars, he took to the bow and arrow; rather than spending his days in the palaces, he travelled the land hunting for yōkai that wrecked havoc upon innocent lives. Every noble sneered at him, yet admired him all the same; there would be much less peace in the land without the formidable yōkai hunter.

Even then, one thing displeased Urato greatly.

"Can we not find a place to rest? We have been wandering since the break of dawn," said Inasuke, the rabbit yōkai dragging his feet tiredly behind Urato. Being Urato's shikigami, Inasuke was wont to be brought along on travels he didn't have much excitement for. The journey seemed tedious: a long winding road through a dark forest thick with the smell of decaying corpses, leeches latching onto the two every few steps, one of them exhausted and whinging – but Urato seemed not much concerned.

"Do ya not know what day it is?" he simply asked.

Inasuke needed not answer. A full moon would rise that night: Urato's chance to hunt a certain elusive catch he had told of countless times. Merfolk luring humans into their sea palace only to turn them old and grey, old rotting men chewing children's bones as though they were sweet potatoes, Urato's life was woven from adventures, of monsters hunted and villages saved. His sharp gaze, his swift feet, his arrows imbued with spirit power hunted down countless malicious creatures… but there was one he had been travelling far and wide in pursuit, one eluding him for seemingly eternity, one he would not leave for the other world before catching in his net.

This yōkai was one unlike any other. Rather than monstrosity, he was feared for his unmatched beauty; rather than striking fear into people's hearts, he captivated them into certain doom. Tales were told of a beautiful man holding an osmanthus branch appearing only on full moon nights, a man of long hair dark as the finest lacquer, robes like early snow, lips the colour of camellia petals. He would visit one man or woman each night; the unfortunate human would soon be entranced by him until they fell ill, tormented and convulsing in desire for him. Eventually, they would crumble to dust, their bones turning into the white of his robes, their blood colouring his lips redder, their life force nourishing his beauty…

"Do you never tire? Why must I accompany you on a journey where I'm of no use?" Inasuke complained. "I'm certain you are not after this yōkai because you want to stop a dangerous monster; you are only looking for one more beautiful man to have discreet conversations with. And yet I thought you haven't tired of the handsome Chūnagon as of yet."

Urato said not a word.