Fractured [formerly Shattered Heart] by KD Heart
Chapter 1
This story was originally posted to mediaminer.org, fanfiction.net and a-single-spark.com as 'Shattered Heart' back in 2006. You can still find the original version (typos, crappy vocabulary, embarrassing plots, lack of capitalization and all) over on the Spark archive and I've uploaded a cleaner version (edited for spelling and grammar) on AO3 as well. (http://archiveofourown.org/works/1995825/chapters/4323972)
Initially I simply wanted to edit it for grammar and vocabulary, but by the time I got through all 15 chapters, I wasn't sure where the story was going anymore so, after a five year hiatus, here I am, completely re-writing this.
*GHASP* I've changed the title to a single word!
Fractured
Chapter 1
The small island some miles off the eastern coast looked almost deserted – aside from a handful of weatherworn trees and some scarce bracken, nothing grew on the sheer cliffs. Waves lapped at the towering mass, swollen by the wild winds and in the skies, thick clouds were amassing over the island. The setting sun was the only thing to spoil the ominous effect by bathing the scene in a sweet shade of pink rather than the crimson such a landscape deserved.
However, the place was not completely uninhabited – a shallow rift offered barely enough room for a crude hut, but there it was. The entrance was guarded by the blackened trunk of a lighting-struck pine – a warning to those who had made it that far – turn back.
Above the hut, the cloud cover began to swirl before parting to reveal a woman riding an oversized feather. She was still young, but her eyes spoke of torment and of resignation.
Woman and feather descended in increasingly large circles, eventually setting down on the other side of the cliff. It wasn’t a long walk from there, but there was a barrier in place which prevented the use of her powers. She tucked the now normal-sized feather in her hair and began walking the rocky path.
She would have preferred a grand entrance – floating down in front of the shack, maybe blow the door open with a gust of wind but, even without the presence of the barrier, her efforts would have been useless.
Up close, the hut looked even worse than she had expected, just a pile of firewood with a straw flap for a door. This pile of firewood, however, was surrounded by a barrier strong enough to leave her powerless and drained – from the moment she stepped through it, not even the slightest breeze had caressed her cheek and before she could cross half the distance she was already feeling winded.
It had taken her months to find the island and she still wasn’t sure why she was here. Once her master had learned of the existence of the old miko, a living relic of the days before the war had started, she was sent to track her down and secure her collaboration. She wasn’t even sure the old woman was real – only a youkai could have survived the centuries, but it wasn’t a youkai they needed. They had plenty of those.
After sifting through thousands of legends and songs, the woman had reached two conclusions: that her greatest chances to find the old soul lay on one of these secluded islands and that it was good not to have to listen to another poet ever again, but that was just wishful thinking on her part.
At least the island wasn’t deserted and, by the looks of it, only a centuries old priestess would live in a place like this. This gave her a glimmer of hope – something she had stopped feeling long ago.
She stopped for breath before the hut. If there was any chance of making any sort of favorable impression, she needed to compose herself. It seemed she had been relying too much on her powers, if a walk as short as this, albeit through rocky, uneven terrain, left her in such a state.
“You tire so easily, child,” said an elderly voice by her side. “Is this what we’re coming to? Unable to walk across some rocks or climb a few dozen yards without losing breath?” she asked in dismay. “You’re lost without that feather of yours.”
The woman was wearing the red and white outfit of a miko, but the hakama was faded to a dull shade and her once white haori was gray with time. She was tall and lean, her skin as white and brittle as Chinese paper and her eyes were as gray and as cold as steel. She could pierce the younger woman with just a look.
“You must be Haruko-sama,” the younger one said, bowing.
Haruko smiled, the skin at the corners of her mouth creasing almost audibly. “That I am. And who might you be, child? Your eyes tell me you’re a fire demon, but that feather of yours makes me think otherwise.”
“I am Kagura of the Wind,” she introduced herself with a hint of haughtiness.
Haruko nodded. “I never really cared much for your kind – the elements have little substance,” she said and paused for a reaction. There was none and she continued, ignoring the lazy pun. “Animal youkai are much more fun. But you haven’t come all this way to have your kind insulted.”
She pulled aside the straw flap and invited Kagura into the hut. “It’ll be dark soon. Come in and tell me why you were looking for old Haruko.”
The young demon glanced at the darkening sky before following Haruko’s instructions and going in.
The hut was, if possible, even smaller on the inside. For a second, Kagura wondered if the old woman slept upright or if she ever slept at all – there was a certain air about her that gave some credibility to the thought. Still, the platform that took up most of the space could double as a bed. The rest of the room must have been used for cooking – a small hearth and cooking utensils were all that she could see. Was this what she had come all the way here for?
“And what might you be?” she ventured to ask.
“Oh, I’m just an old miko.”
This didn’t satisfy the wind demon. Coming all this way for nothing would have been a great failure and those could prove quite deadly to someone like herself. “A very old miko, if the legends are to be trusted,” she pushed.
“So it’s the legends that brought you here,” Haruko chuckled. She had set out to make some tea and seemed to ostensibly offer the demon only half of her attention. “Which legends are those? The ones about me knowing what is to come?” Her voice sounded slightly amused.
“The ones that say you’ve been around when the Shikon no tama was forged,” Kagura said.
This got the old woman’s attention.
“Many people were,” she said, the amusement in her voice rising.
“But they’re not miko.”
“So it’s the Jewel you’re after, child. I’m afraid I can’t help you there. It’s been shattered years ago.”
“I’m not looking for the Jewel. I have the Jewel.” Well, most of it at least.
Haruko stopped in her stirring and looked up with a raised eyebrow and a crinkled brow. “Oh?”
“My… master,” Kagura began, the word catching painfully in her throat, “has gathered most of it. He has great plans and the power to put them in action.” She wished she knew more about those plans, but she was only here as messenger. With one elegant move, she pulled the sealed letter from the left sleeve. “Naraku would greatly appreciate your help,” she said, wondering if the damn spider would have been as diplomatic.
The old woman took the letter, but did not open it. “He has the power to control the Jewel, you say?” Her eyes were shining with a strange emotion. Was it excitement? “Tell him he has my aid,” she assured her. “This is something I need to witness for myself.”
Kagura was puzzled, but did her best not to show it. “Aren’t you going to read it?”
“This?” she asked, holding up the letter. “Child, my eyes are not what they used to be, but I know what he wants. Have your tea,” she urged, handing Kagura the bowl of freshly made tea, “and I shall give you what he needs when you’re done. I’ll need his blood to make it work.”
The wind demon promptly rolled up her sleeves and stretched out her left arm. “Take as much as you need.”
“I see.”
Without another word, Haruko lifted the bowl of tea to her lips and took a long sip of the hot liquid, draining it all. “It is convenient to be able to send out your blood to do your bidding.”
Using one of her brittle fingernails she sliced the skin on the younger woman’s wrist open and gathered the blood in her now empty tea bowl.
“Make sure he completes the bond before he tries anything more drastic,” the old miko said, adding some green powder to the mix and stirring with a stone spoon.