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Gypsy Heart for Shojisama

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I never thought I would want another home. The winds in the windy season, the rains of the rainy one, the swept plains, the dried deserts, and the ever constant search and revelation of sweet snowmelt brooks snaking down from powerful mountains through myriads of forests. I was born on the plains and every year since my birth I have witnessed and survived every piece of weather the great land has to offer.
I was happy here, beneath the sky. I was happy here, when I believed nothing else existed but my people and the land that birthed us.

You took that away from me, and yet, I hold no loathing in my heart for you.

*

"Hurry up Taka!" A young man shouted as hooves thundered passed Uruha's family's tent. "Sleep in again?"

Uruha stumbled as he ran out and to the post where his horse was tied. Undoing the knot he could tie before he could walk, he tossed a soft beige pad on her back and jumped on as she started running. Firestar knew the drill―and she wanted to catch up with Kai and his white and brown splotched mare Reed just as much as he did.

He felt every muscle beneath him straining as Firestar's hooves pounded into the earth of the plains. Riding gave him a taste of the freedom enjoyed only by the hawks soaring high above in the endless blue, and he loved it. Ahead of him, the distance between Kai and himself was narrowing to a horselength until finally he moved alongside of him and Firestar and Reed matched paces instinctively. They were as close to being sisters as he and Kai were close to being brothers.

They slowed to a trot when the birthing season encampment vanished and eventually the horses simply walked along, the sounds of their hooves almost silent in the grass. Beneath them in a valley like dip at the end of the plains, surrounded on one end by the forest that eventually led into the mountains, were the birthing ground of their people's food source and foe. Many of their tribe had perished at the fangs of the deer-like cat, Sabre, including Uruha's father and Firestar's mother. Seeing the young ones playing at the hooves of their mothers did nothing to alleviate his fear and loathing.

"Do you think we'll get many this year?" Kai asked and Uruha looked at the guy who had became his older brother. He was starting to look thin―edible plants were few many times of the year, and the effects of not taking down enough Sabre for the past winter were clear through his loosely fitted clothes.

"No, they're getting smarter." Uruha muttered. "Someday they'll just come kill us."

"Uru..."

"It's true, Kai! They don't even eat us, they just do it for fun."

"Uru."

"I can't wait until we're away from this place. I'd rather hunt the elk in the warming season."

"Uru!"

"What?" Uruha turned to see what Kai was making a fuss about and immediately caught sight of the smoke rising up above the tree line.

He felt his entire body freeze up. He imagined the flames leaving the forest and catching on plain grass, which was dead and dry from the cold windy season. It would engulf their entire encampment before anyone but the fastest could mount their horses. The horses would not be able to outrun it if the wind blew the right way.

"Go warn them," Uruha told him and rubbed the side of his mare's neck. "I'm going to see if dirt can be thrown on it. There's not a lot of smoke, maybe we caught it in time." They moved into a trot and began around the outside of the large valley. He hoped that hoofbeats did not alert the violent Sabre below.

As he neared where the edge of the forest met the rim of the valley, his eyes were caught by a man walking from the forest, stumbling, and falling down the gentle slope of the valley wall. Firestar stopped and stomped lightly, throwing her head. The image obviously was as disturbing to her as Uruha found it. The man was unclothed, but too far away to define any other features, and was stumbling toward certain death.

And Uruha could not move.

All of his training told him to stay away from the Sabre herd. All of his being told him to help someone in need. Nearby the smoke was dissipating and still he remained transfixed as the strange man passed through the beasts who had killed his father without causing a single adult Sabre to raise its massive horned head. The little ones continued to frolic, occasionally bumping into the lone man, sending him to the ground, or sniffing curiously at his ankles.

The man left the man group of creatures and began to stumble his way up the opposite side of the valley before Uruha began to ride toward him. He could hear the thundering hooves of others coming to fight the fire, or keep it at bay for those who were fleeing. He knew they would reach the lip of the valley just as he was going to reach the man, who had collapsed in a perilous no man's land between safety and the Sabre. He slid from Firestar's back and pulled the man to his feet, catching sight of the most inhumanly cold eyes he had ever seen, so much so that he immediately looked away, forgetting in that second the strangely shaped face, and impossible skin colour, and when he glanced back as he hoisted him onto Firestar, he saw only a man.

He rode up the slope to the leader, who was watching him from horseback with a handful of men and women and Kai. "He walked through the Sabre." Uruha found himself gasping out as he closed the gap. "They didn't kill him."

"You and Kai, take him to Hitsugi and Hera, get him clothed. We'll make sure that fire is out." The leader commanded and Uruha guided Firestar around the gathered hunters and met Kai as they moved from a trot into a gallop. Before they had sped up, he heard the leader answer someone's question. "Hitsugi will decide if he's Aowa'ri."

Uruha gently nudged his mare, urging her to move faster. Though his strangely coloured grey-brown eyes were open, the man with short, two-tone hair of the lightest hair he had ever seen on someone so young and the blackest, was unmoving. He could not even feel him breathing, and felt fear for this man he might never know. Maybe that was why the Sabre left him alone, perhaps he was dying anyway.

"Do you think he started the fire?" Kai asked over the sound of their gallop as the encampment faded into view.

"Who knows? We'll have to ask him if he survives," Uruha responded as they loped into town together, toward the largest permanent tent where the healers lived.

The tent was compiled of the furs of different ancient Sabre the healers had watched fall into nature's final slumber, with massive antlers adorning the entrance way, worked in such a way that the door-flap was held up by them during daylight hours. Uruha got off of Firestar with the stranger in his arms carefully and walked toward the opening with Kai not so far behind him.

There was a soft, thick mat set in front of an ever-burning charcoal fire, upon which Uruha knew he had to lay the newcomer. As he straightened his back, Hera strode forward, the metallic fastenings in her braided hair and feathered tassels catching the firelight as she did so. Uruha watched as shadows danced across her dark skin as she knelt by the man who had the night sky encompassed in his relatively short, spiky hair.

"Hitsugi!" She called in a gentle voice. "Hitsugi, bring cha'a, Aowari is here."

Uruha shuddered and backed away, toward the door and Kai. Aowari was a myth, a legend, a creation story. Most of his people may have believed the ancient lies passed down traditionally from one generation's healers to another, but Uruha refused.

Hitsugi walked into visibility, carrying a tray with a steaming teapot and three cups, but that time Uruha felt too overwhelmed to feel awed by Hitsugi's rogue, intimidating appearance. He turned and left the tent, latching onto Kai's arm as he headed out, pulling his stunned brother away from the healers and their insanity. He pushed himself onto Firestar's back and rode off without another word.

What would his leader do with the power of others' belief in Aowari?

*

Almost an entire moon phase later, the tribe had packed up their dwelling and headed toward the Gathering, where all the tribes of the plains and many from the steppes spent the upcoming moon phases, when the most fertile land within a month's hard ride radius was at its most fertile time. The night before they were set to arrive, Uruha had drawn night watch and passed around the temporary dwellings on foot, circling and pacing, trying to shorten the night when he heard an argument arising from the healer's tent.

Finding his feet straying in that direction, Uruha grew concerned. Hera and Hitsugi never argued―they were not a true bonded pair, but married under Aowari to study the healing arts in balance with one another―and that was why he approached the otherwise off-limits healer's tent.

"He needs to be ready for tomorrow," the voice of their leader drifted over the long grasses.

"He does not yet speak our tongue well, and our God cannot be used for political will. Can you not see the wrongness of your plans?" Hitsugi: his ever calm voice had a rise to it. He sounded as angry as Uruha had ever heard him. "I will not permit him, as your shaman, to spend a night in the tent of anyone but this one, Reita."

"He's mine and he will do as I say. I'm your leader and will kill you if you continue to disrespect me." The leader snarled. "Where is he?"

"I mean no disrespect," Hitsugi spat, "but I am the shaman, I am your healer. If you kill me the gods will destroy this entire tribe. Do not be foolish, Reita. Leave my tent. Mighty Aowari will be ready without whatever vile thing you might wish to do to him."

There was silence for a moment before Uruha heard a choking sound and Hitsugi yell for Hera.

"Don't touch him, Hera," their leader snarled. "This is his punishment. Bring me Aowari and if he hasn't bled out by then you can save him."

"Don't let him take the god," Hitsugi gasped. "When he regains his memory, Aowari will be furious, Hera..."

Uruha stood in shock listening to the dialogue. Had Reita stabbed Hitsugi? Should he be standing there listening to this, trying to stop it, or hiding? If their leader was willing to attack the most important member of any tribe, he would think nothing of disposing Uruha. He backed away slowly, afraid, when light streamed onto the ground from the healer's sacred fire and watched as their leader walked out, pulling a figure cloaked in their most decorative dress behind him by cords tied around his wrists. The hooded figure turned its gaze toward him, directly at him, though the figure had no way of seeing him through the material, and Uruha backed up further into the darkness as the leader tugged him along to his own tent.

He could not wait for the Gathering; someone there would surely know what to do with what he had just seen.

*

The best part of the Gathering was finding old friends they could only see once a year and taking a meal with them. He was watching the sun set over the plains with a small group, eating and laughing. Kai sat directly next to him, and beside him was the ever more colourful Chiyu from a steppes tribe, and on Uruha's other side was Ruki, the son of the Dried Lake Tribe's leader. For having nothing but sand, Ruki's tribe was always dressed the most frivolously.

Behind them the central bonfire was being built as it would be every night they spent there, everyone mutually tending the crops that would feed them all. During the fertile season, hunters became patrols, ensuring their livelihoods were safe from the Sabre. A poor harvest would mean starvation and in-fighting amongst the tribes. There would be many celebrations that night however, with the tribespeople showcasing their best dancers, best singers, and best fighters with competitions until daybreak.

"Do you guys believe in Aowari?" He asked lightly, staring at the masses of clouds coloured by the setting sun.

Kai shrugged a little and leaned on him. Uruha knew Kai did, but also knew that Kau had seen how disdainful Uruha could be to their religion. Chiyu nodded and smiled a little, while Ruki laughed.

"What sort of question is that? I'd believe in him, except our mystic keeps telling us he's coming back every year to lead us to the promised lands. Where is he?! Hah, if he does exist, he's forgotten about his so-called peoples." Ruki snorted derisively. "Besides, who needs the fucking promised lands? The plains alone are paradise."

"This is a harsh life," Kai interjected. "Any normal person would yearn for paradise."

Ruki rolled his eyes. "Says the guy with the easiest life of us all. I suppose those horses don't ride themselves."

Chiyu laughed. "I guess it's proper for the guy who has to eat his own pet goats when times get tough to be so bitter. Even with no food, my people would never eat our tonbi," and with that said, he lifted his arm and the tribal bird of the steppes perched on the wristguard that Chiyu was never seen without, her massive wingspan folding in tight against her dark, tawny body.

"What if I told you guys that we're going to see Aowari tonight? That'll he'll perform a ritual dance?" Uruha murmured, playing with his fingers. Kai tensed next to him―they had been told to keep it to themselves.

"I'd laugh," Ruki answered dismissively. "Enough with your stupid questions. The sun's almost down, let's go eat something before the dancers start."

"Dancing this year Ruki?" Kai wanted to know with a smirk on his lips as he stood up.

"Kai, you're excused to go fuck yourself," Ruki replied with fake joviality dripping from his voice.

*

Uruha was eating a strange bun made by the stone ovens of a steppe tribe who did not change locations except for their annual migration to the fertile land. Uruha could not imagine staying in one place for the entire year―the Gathering was a long enough time spent without changing location. As it was, the bun had a harder time going down the closer time neared to when his leader would speak. It was not difficult to see what path his leader would take once he unveiled their people's fabled god, not difficult at all.

Behind the group of leaders was a slightly larger group of shamans, each fully covered by their formal dress, which permitted no skin to be shown. He looked for his tribe's particular markings and felt relief and anxiety almost instantly when he saw three hooded figures. Hera, Hitsugi, and Aowari. Even with his head bowed, Aowari was taller than both of the healers and many of the other tribes' healer's and was quickly gathering attention.

"I am Reita Hayauma from the Tribe of the Great Plains," their leader started. "Since the last gathering we have sustained our population with eight deaths and eight births. We had adequate food supply and few attacks from the Sabre. I do have something interesting to report, however. Two of our hunters in-training were patrolling the Sabre breeding grounds," Uruha arched an eyebrow, amused that his discovery sugarcoated the fact that technically Kai and he had been breaking the rules. "When this man was seen walking through the beasts as if they did not exist. Not a single one, extremely defensive in their breeding time, attacked him."

One of the cloaked figures was walking toward Reita and Uruha marvelled at how gracefully he walked. His shoulders were sloped however, and he moved sluggishly as if he was sleeping walking. Despite the hood obscuring his entire form, his figure was daunting in front of the massive fire in the centre of the gathering. A gloved hand reached up slowly, unfastening the mask part of the hood while Reita continued.

"My shamans have identified him as the reincarnation of Aowari," Reita stated as the hood was dropped. "This is the only explanation for why the Sabre did not attack him, but you can see with your own eyes that this is God. I would like to purpose that we begin this gathering of tribes with the traditional dance of Aowari."

Uruha forced his eyes from the newly tattooed face to look around him and saw how easily his leader had gained control of the other tribes. Of course they would not deny anything that the man in control of Aowari had to say—even if that control was not visible. They would do anything. Their healers would verify it, and then…Uruha shook his head; he had no way of knowing what Reita would do with that power. Around him a beat was starting, a dance he had heard from the time of his first Gathering, and he looked in front of him again, briefly making eye-contact with the most lucid, insane looking set of eyes he had ever seen.

He turned and ran passed Ruki and Kai, both looking startled.

*

He held still as the strange peoples' hands touched him, inspecting every inch of his new body. How long had he been there, surrounded by things his own tongue had no words for? Warm fingers touched his cool skin, took away the robes that the two healers had given him, and marveled at his hair. He had tried to appear as they appeared, yet they still distinguished him as not one of their own, and without the warm, sickly sweet smelling liquid—cha'a—that they forced down his throat, he would never be able to rest without fear.

"Drink this Lord Aowari," someone whispered and forced the steaming cha'a against his lips.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head back—it was useless to resist them.

He had to survive. He had to escape.
He had to find his way home.

*

Uruha ran circles slowly along the outside of the Gathering as the main fire died down and the night grew old. The warm breeze of the fertile season washed over him as Firestar trotted smoothly and he tried to distract himself from the activities he was missing and from what might be happening within tent walls. Why it even bothered him so much was beyond rational thought, but those eyes haunted him every waking moment and sleep was no more of an escape than riding circles.

"Help me," a raspy voice called out suddenly, startling Firestar enough for Uruha to almost lose his hold on her mane.

"W-who's there?" Uruha asked, sliding cautiously from his mare's back. Firestar shivered as she stood and tossed her head in agitation as Uruha walked toward the plea for help, straining to see in the darkness. He nearly stumbled over him―Aowari was moving away from the tents, away from the fire, his decorative robes had been replaced for the skimpy traditional dance clothes, his ankles had been bound.

"A-Aowari," Uruha stuttered. The so-called creator god was in a pitiful state. He reached down and picked him up, the lightness of his body surprising him. "I'll take you to Hitsugi's tent. He'll help you."

"No," the sound of his voice was almost painfully beautiful. "I'm not..."

Uruha bit his lip, knowing he could do nothing else but return Aowari to Hitsugi, knowing that chaos would descend upon the tribes if their Aowari went missing. He walked quickly through the grass to where he knew Hitsugi's tent was pitched. The acrid smell of wood smoke no longer reminded him of the grand Gathering, but of the fear he could feel pulsating through a man who would supposedly bring together the divided tribes.

"I'm not…Aowari," the man whispered against his arm.

A shudder ran through his body. "Of course you are," he murmured and walked through the fabric door of the healer's tent, calling out quietly in the darkness for Hitsugi. A silent shadow of a man slid into poor view and Uruha stepped back as the man's weight shifted from his arms and to the arms of the healer. Uruha turned and quickly strode away, hurried to escape the terrible beauty in the pained voice as Aowari called for him by name.

I'm not Aowari

Then who was he?

*

"I can't believe we're not leaving this area when the fertile season ends," Kai murmured beside him as they sprinkled water over the crops together. Ruki was nearby with a small group of his friends from his tribe. They were more feathered and beaded and tasseled than Ruki himself, so much so that sometimes Uruha had a hard time understanding what he was even looking at.

Uruha nodded slightly, the lines under his eyes apparent. He was already feeling the urge to travel back to their winter grounds. How could they find protection from bitter winter winds where the Gathering was, on the open, fertile grounds? What was Reita thinking, if he was thinking at all?

"He's testing the water," he answered lowly as he emptied the last few drops of his woven bucket, "he wants to see how insane he can act before, or if, anyone says anything to him," he muttered.

He straightened his back and gazed out toward where the majority of the horses were tied. There were people nearby to them erecting a structure to better protect their partners from the coming winds. The tonbi were shrieking above them as the horses tossed their magnificent heads. Even the animals were anxious to part ways and go with the air currents.

"Hush, he's still our leader," Kai hissed as he looped the handle of the bucket over his shoulder.

"This is unnatural, Kai," Uruha snapped at him and walked toward the spring.

"Uruha?" An eerie toned voice called from behind.

He turned to see the healer walking toward him with full garb, the hood up over his coloured, tasseled hair, but not blocking his face. The grass around Hitsugi greened as he walked through it, and it was in that moment that Uruha believed in magic. His feet compelled him forward and shortly thereafter he stood in front of the shaman with the demonic blue eyes.

"Aowari-sama has summoned you." Hitsugi informed him without further pause. "Follow me."

The wind pulled at his honeyed hair as he stepped cautiously after the healer. He followed him to the tent where Hitsugi stood to the side and gestured for him to enter the tent alone. Swallowing, Uruha walked inside only to be greeted by Reita's harsh eyes and Aowari's almost otherworldly brown mix. Between his leader and the so-called god's stare, Uruha almost backed out.

I need you to help me.

Uruha frowned and touched two cool fingertips to his forehead, trying to rid himself of the sudden pressure within his temples as Reits began speaking to him. "Aowari-sama has for reason unknown selected you to be his disciple. Since this is his Greatness, you have no other choice. Tomorrow Hitsugi will apprentice you."

You must help me. I am not your God.

Uruha winced again, nodding at Reita.

"Is there something wrong with you?" Reita asked with annoyance apparent in his tone.

"No sir."

I just want to go home.

"Go rest, Hitsugi wakes before the sun." Reita commanded and Uruha fled the tent without anymore prompting necessary.

*

Cha'a was the gods' plant. A healer had to be able to ingest it and learn to think through it, which was something Uruha thought would be no problem until it entered his blood. When hours had passed spinning, unable to stand, he understood why Aowari had been unable to escape fully the first night of the Gathering. He understood why Aowari wanted his help.

But with the cha'a herb in his system, he no longer believed he could even leave on his own.

"You have to find your consciousness," the gypsy healer whispered through the haze.

Help me.

"You have been chosen for a reason, Aowari-sama knows you can do this." Hitsugi urged him as he was fed more of the cha'a.

What time was it? What day? There was someone talking to him, perhaps the real Aowari, perhaps the man who could speak in his thoughts, or perhaps the earth of the plains from which he was borne. He groaned softly to himself in an attempt to answer the voice. At one point he thought he was combing his fingers gently through Firestar's light coloured mane and felt her warm breathe against his forehead. They would ride together toward the southwest, back to Uruha's homeland. He knew the way.

I'm not one of you. Get me away from this place. Please, Uruha, you have to help me. The leaves freeze my muscles.

"That's it, Uruha," Hitsugi murmured.

And around him the haze vanished instantly; the darkness of a tent in the nighttime bled into his vision. He breathed in slowly, feeling energies of the living things around him as he did so. Everything felt normal as strength returned to his muscles and he sat up―only to experience the strangest sensation. It was not the energy of the horses, the sky, the wind, the trees, the grass, nor was it the rivers or the rain. He turned his head, meeting the dazed eyes of the so-called Aowari and understood his apparent god-like nature.

The sacred man could not fight off the intrusions of the cha'a that he was being fed out of respect and dogma.

I'll get him out of here tonight, he thought to himself as he got slowly to his feet. Even the air was alive. The energies of the earth around him had never been so physically present, though there had been rare, sublime moments of feeling them. Could healers truly feel them constantly?

He stretched slowly and headed for the exit of the tent, desperate to see Firestar and his friends again. The air on the outside of the tent bespoke of how long he had been under the influence of the cha'a without being about to think. He was running out of time before the tribes were supposed to separate and return to their winter grounds, to which they would not be going if Reita had his way. Removing Aowari from the equation might save his people.

Uruha did not pause to think of what else it could do.

It had to be done.
Title: Gypsy Heart

Chapter: One shot (part 1/3)

Genre: "fanfiction", romance, fiction, yaoi

Warnings: None right now...? very slight hint of rape, drug/substance use

Rating: NC-13-17

Band: the GazettE

Characters: Uruha, Aoi, Ruki, Reita, Kai [GazettE] Chiyu [SuG], Hitsugi [Nightmare]

Pairings AoixUruha, Reita/Aoi (slight hint)

Pages: 13

Inspiration: Kiriban

Words: 4,528

disclaimer: just using the names, the personalities and story are all mine.This is a work of fiction, any connections between real life people, places, or events are entirely coincidental

Author's Note: This fic is for the catching of the 22,000 kiriban ^^ I don't think it's good enough, but I hope ~shojisama enjoys it!

and the rest of my stories here: [link]



Part 2: [link]
© 2012 - 2024 SeannaBirchwood
Comments17
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PresentDayVampire's avatar
Dang, this is interesting. And don't you say that it's not good enough, it's awesome!
I'll be looking forwards to the next chapters and I'll be reading part 2, right about, now. =)