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fic_ception2020-03-17 04:37 pm
chlorhexidine) wrote in fic_ception2020-03-17 04:37 pm
Collarverse - Noragami 4
“The last place she,” Kazuma faltered at the next word, his finger trailing under the sentence, “ex pec ted,” he pressed on.
“Good,” Miss Vaisravana said. He didn't call her that aloud; she was 'miss', always, or 'my lady', but in the privacy of his head he remembered her name and cherished it, like a precious gift he'd been given. She wasn't just Young Miss Bishamon to him, just as he wasn't a nameless, faceless scullion to her.
They met at night, in secret. The other collars fell asleep quickly, and Kazuma waited until the corridors fell quiet and there was naught but the sound of breathing all around. Then he stole from his bed and slipped into the old hidden routes to meet Miss Vaisravana in the library. She taught him to read by candlelight, her bare feet tucked up onto the chaise as she leaned into him, following over his shoulder as he made his way through the unfamiliar symbols that were letters, picking out the syllables so he could speak them to her.
It had been distracting at first. Her shoulder brushed against his and he froze, and if he concentrated he could feel her breath fluttering the air by his cheek. But that meant he wasn't concentrating on the words.
He was doing well, she said. A couple of weeks of nightly visits to the library had left him exhausted during the day, and he'd had more than one reprimand already for daring to yawn, but he'd moved on from cats that sat on mats to short books that had an actual story.
He yawned now. Squinting at the page in the dim light made him tired, and he usually ended his time with the young miss with a headache. His eyes weren't perfect, but his glasses were only as good as they needed to be for him to see the dirt he was meant to clean. Focusing for so long on things as intricate as words was difficult.
“Maybe that's enough for tonight,” Miss Vaisravana said, sitting upright and drawing away from Kazuma's shoulder. He missed the radiated warmth of her presence immediately.
“No!” he protested. “No miss,” he corrected himself, “I'm fine.”
She looked at him. Kazuma was swallowed by her lilac eyes. He'd been told she had them from her mother, although he'd never dared to look into Lady Bishamon's face to see. He shouldn't dare to look at the young lady's either, he knew, but he couldn't stop himself. “Well maybe that's enough reading for tonight,” she said. “You work so hard, you deserve a break.” She took the book from his hands without pause, slipping a bookmark into the pages and closing it.
What would they do instead? Without a book to learn from or ducklings to feed Kazuma would be dull company for a lady such as her. He didn't know how to entertain masters like some collars. Some collars existed just to do that; to be attractive and engaging and amuse and delight with their mere existence. The Bishamonten household didn't keep any of those, but the others whispered of them sometimes. There were whole estates, they said, where every collar was as pretty and brightly coloured as a peacock. They didn't have the drab brown hair of Kazuma, and the other collars here because they were meant to be noticed, to stand out and be looked at. They were decorations as much as they were property.
“I hope you're still feeding our ducks,” Miss Vaisravana said, dragging Kazuma from his thoughts.
He smiled, and gave a single deep nod. “I am, miss,” he confirmed. “The new ducklings are losing their down, now,” he told her.
She smiled wistfully. “I wish I could feed them with you,” she sighed. “I hate the piano, but father insists I learn.”
Kazuma's heart did a leap in his chest, spinning like a dancer as it jumped. “They enjoyed the peas today,” he told her.
Her face lit up with a smile that warmed Kazuma deep into his bones. “Really?” she asked. A punnet of fresh peas had been tucked into a small basket set aside for Kazuma to find. The tree by the lake was their place now. Every day he went out at lunch to find a wrapped parcel of sandwiches for himself, and a punnet of something for the ducks. Today it had been peas. The day before it had been a tub of corn.
His sandwich today had been salmon and cream cheese with lamb's lettuce on fresh, thick, crusty bread. The sandwich he'd been given from the collar kitchen was suspicious smelling paste on a stale heel. Miss Vaisravana had explained to him that too much bread was bad for ducks, but seeing the food he was expected to eat now he had the young miss secretly sending him an alternative, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd be better off eating the duck's food himself instead. It certainly looked a lot more appetising.
He nodded at the young miss's question. “Yes,” he confirmed, “nearly as much as they enjoyed the corn yesterday.” Miss Vaisravan's smile stayed in place, genuine warmth and pleasure alight in her eyes. Kazuma wanted her to look at him that way forever. “And I,” he continued, more nervously, “am grateful for mine, also.”
The happiness drained from her smile, replaced with sadness. “When I'm the lady of the house,” she said, turning away from Kazuma and leaning back against the seat, “you'll all get good food every day.”
“We do, miss,” Kazuma began, the lie he'd been told a hundred thousand times at the tip of his tongue and exiting before his brain had even caught it.
“No you don't,” she replied, cutting him off before he'd begun his defence. “You get scraps that father wouldn't even feed his dogs.” She sighed and pulled her legs up, tucking her knees against her chest. “It's no wonder some collars want revenge.”
Kazuma turned towards her. Miss Vaisravana rested her cheek on her knee and looked at him. “Did you hear about the Ebisu estate?” she asked, “Or did they keep that from you too?”
Kazuma faltered, biting at the inside of his lip. “I know something happened,” he answered, quietly, “but I don't know what. Anyone caught talking about it is beaten.”
Miss Vaisravana's face went stony and hard. For a moment Kazuma thought he'd said something wrong. Her jaw set, and for a split second she looked angry, but then she softened into sadness once more. “When I'm lady,” she said, with steel in her voice, “there won't be any beatings either.”
Kazuma swallowed, unsure of what to say, or if he should say anything. Miss Vaisravana had come back with ideas and questions. When they'd first met again she'd asked so many questions about his life as a collar; where he'd grown up, if he remembered his parents, what it had been like to be sold. It seemed to upset her, but she kept asking anyway, until Kazuma had told her he didn't want to tell her any more because she always looked so hurt by it. He wasn't hurt by it. He had a good enough life; it was hard, the days were long and tiring, but he slept indoors and he ate every day, and most importantly to him he got to meet her. He wouldn't trade that for freedom.
She hadn't known what to say to that, but she'd taken him into her arms and held him there until he thought the joy of it was going to make him explode, and she hadn't asked any more questions since.
“They were attacked,” she said, turning so that she wasn't looking directly at Kazuma any more. “The lord and lady were killed, along with some of their collars. One of the nursemaid collars hid with the young master.” Her arms tightened around her legs. “All the collars that died were loyal. The lord and lady were attacked by ones that weren't.”
Kazuma's stomach dropped, his insides filling with cold and fear. “No collar here would ever—”
“If they're treated like you I wouldn't blame them,” Miss Vaisravana said. Kazuma fell silent. Her pout was visible in the dim candlelight. “They think it started with a break in,” she added. “Escaped collars from somewhere else broke in to free the others, and killed anyone that tried to stop them.” Kazuma watched her knuckles whiten as she gripped her skirt. “Now Lord Ebisu is a child that can't even tie his own shoes.”
Kazuma stared at her hand, her long fingers curled into the soft cotton of her dress. He wanted to reach out and take it into his. Would her fingers be warm? They'd certainly be soft. He wanted to tell her that he'd stand between her and danger, just like the collars that had died for lord and lady Ebisu. He wouldn't do it for the lord and lady Bishamon, he realised, his stomach flipping at the realisation, but he'd do it for Miss Vaisravana.
She gave a soft, bitter laugh. “I shouldn't be scaring you with stories like this,” she said, letting go of her skirt and unfolding her legs so that her bare feet touched the ground once more. “You should go to bed,” she added, casting a soft smile at Kazuma that made his heart soar. “I know they make you get up early.”
Kazuma fought against the yawn that threatened to crawl up his throat. “As you wish,” he answered.
“I do,” she told him, reaching out to ruffle his hair. Her hand fell from there onto his shoulder and sent a thrill along Kazuma's spine. “Same time tomorrow,” she told him.
Kazuma gave a nod, and her hand fell away from his shoulder, but the heat of her skin remained there even after Kazuma had slipped away to his straw mattress and thin blanket, nestled in amongst the other young collars.
***
Pain seared through Kazuma's body as the leather bit into his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth. He tried to focus on the feeling of his nails digging into his palms, or the cold stone hurting his knees. The smack of leather against flesh broke his concentration and he whimpered.
“Five,” Noriko counted, her voice calm and cold. “Strike harder or you'll share the next five.”
The next blow was harder. Kazuma felt the warmth of blood drip down his back in its wake. If it left a scar, it probably wouldn't be his first, just as it was unlikely to be his last.
Tears welled in his eyes as the next strikes came. The pain had turned from sharp and searing to stabbing as the leather strips of the flog landed against his battered and sliced skin. He fought not to cry as the last blow landed. His entire back burned.
“Count yourself lucky,” Noriko said, dripping spite and ice. “Lazy boys get sold to work the fields. You won't get time to doze off then.”
“Yes ma'am,” Kazuma answered, his voice cracking with the pain.
“Get your shirt back on and get back to work,” she snapped, turning away from him.
“Sorry,” Kiryu said, once the door had closed behind Noriko. He was two years older than Kazuma, and had the broad shoulders and stocky build of someone good at lifting and carrying. He usually worked in the stable, where the ability to throw hay bales around and wield a shovel like it was part of your arm was useful. Unfortunately, that also made him Noriko's preferred flogger. Kazuma struggled to his feet and found his shirt being held out to him by the other collar. “I tried,” he said, a sadness sweeping across his face.
Kazuma shook his head. “It's not your fault,” he said, as reassuringly as he could. His skin felt as if it were on fire, and he could feel blood still dripping down his back and soaking the top of his trousers. He was going to have to scrub them tonight.
“You want some help cleaning up?” Kiryu offered.
Kazuma shook his head. “I'll be fine,” he answered. “Thank you.”
“Try not to get caught again,” Kiryu advised, giving Kazuma an awkward, self conscious smile before he left. Kazuma sighed. If he put his shirt on over his bleeding back, he'd be in for another flogging for ruining the clothes he'd been given. The only other collar he knew that might be inclined to help him was Touma.
“I heard you'd been caught sleeping,” Touma said, the moment Kazuma entered the kitchen, his shirt in hand. “Let's see.” She urged him to turn around with her hand on his shoulder and looked at the damage critically. “It could be worse,” she concluded. “Sit.”
Kazuma sat. He only felt more tired after being beaten. He'd been woken with a start by Noriko slapping him across the face, and then he'd been led by his hair through the gardens and into the small bedroom all the younger collars shared. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but his nightly visits in the library with Miss Vaisravana had cut into his sleep. He'd gone out to the pond for his lunch, like always, and he was sure he'd only closed his eyes for a minute, but then....
“Does everyone know?” he asked, quietly.
Something warm and wet pressed gently against his abused back, and Kazuma hissed. “Just everyone that heard the old hag screeching at you,” Touma answered. “Hold still.”
Kazuma did his best to do as he was told. “Do the masters know?” he asked.
There was a pause. Touma's hand moved against Kazuma's back, bathing another spot, and then she whispered, “You mean does the young miss know?”
Kazuma's cheeks heated, despite the pain he was in. He didn't want Miss Vaisravana to know. It would upset her, and he didn't think he could bear seeing her upset like that, but more importantly, he didn't think he could stand it if she decided to cancel their nightly meetings over it.
“That's why you fell asleep, isn't it?” Touma asked, her voice still hushed. The young kitchen hands were busy at the other end of the kitchen, and Touma was barely audible to Kazuma over the sound of them sweeping and scrubbing. “You need to stop this. What do you think is going to happen?” Touma hissed at him. She reapplied the cloth she was cleaning his back with in a new spot and Kazuma jerked away from the sting. “She's a master, Kazuma. Do you know what teenage masters do to young collars?”
Kazuma blinked at the question. “No,” he answered.
Touma's hand stilled on his back, and it took a long moment before she moved again. “Well, good,” she said. “I hope you don't find out.”
“The young miss wouldn't do anything to hurt any collar,” Kazuma replied, feeling compelled to defend Miss Vaisravana's honour, although what Touma was accusing her of he couldn't guess.
“Sure,” Touma replied, skepticism heavy in her voice. She turned away to wring her cloth out and rinse it through. “It's a good job she's going back to school in a couple of weeks.”
The reminder made Kazuma's stomach lurch and drop. The days with Miss Vaisravana in the house were brighter, and passed more quickly. Before long she'd be gone again, along with the summer, and Kazuma's days would drag as the leaves turned brown and fell from the trees and the air turned chill.
When the bleeding had stopped, and the blood cleaned away, Kazuma pulled his shirt back on and threw himself back into his work. His eyes stung with tiredness, but he didn't dare get caught doing so much as yawning. At dinner he was given stale bread, and hard cheese; leftovers, he knew. Touma would have fed him a hot meal like all the others, so this had Noriko's mark.
He didn't dare complain. Instead he found a quiet corner of the collar dormitory to sit and eat, where the smell of stewed vegetables and dumplings couldn't remind him of what he was being denied while he ate.
Night was drawing in when the commotion began. Kazuma was on his knees, up to his elbows in the laundry tub. He stopped, and listened, sharing a look with the other young collar he was working with. She paused in her darning as they both listened.
Hurried footsteps darted down the corridor, one person at first, their thin shoes slapping on the stone, and then a second, a third, a group. Everything was eerily quiet for a few seconds as the footsteps moved past the laundry room, and then the sound of doors banging off the walls as they were thrown open burst through the silence.
Kazuma scrambled away from the tub, backing away from the door as it too was thrown open and a stranger's face peered inside. “Two kids,” he said to some unseen companion further down the hall. A moment later the man's eyes landed on Kazuma and Tsuguha and he gestured to them. “Out here. Do as you're told and you won't get hurt.”
“Who are you?” Kazuma asked, still on his knees. The man wore a collar, he noticed, the plain brown leather of a basic housecollar, but he was scarred like a Fighter, and carrying a knife.
“Your salvation,” came the answer through a twisted smile that sent a shiver down Kazuma's spine. “We've come to free you.”
He took them down to the dormitory, where the other collars had been gathered. Kazuma cast his eyes around; Kiryu was there, on his feet near the door, talking to a stranger with dark hair and a plain brown collar. He didn't see Touma, or Noriko, or any of the above stairs collars. Kiryu nodded and smiled at Kazuma as he passed, but didn't halt his conversation. Kazuma joined the others, huddled in a group, on their knees.
“Here's the deal,” one of them said, an oily looking collar with a scarred chin, “you join us, you earn your freedom, you work with us freeing others and punishing the masters. Or,” he paused to grin and look around at the assembled collars in the room. They were all young, most of them less than sixteen. “You can stay here with your masters and share in their fate. The choice is yours.”
Kazuma looked around and found himself locking eyes with others as they all sought each other out. Collars never got to make their own decisions. Kazuma wanted to stay, he'd never betray Miss Vaisravana, but the prickle of his skin and the pounding of his heart told him to stay quiet for now.
“So who wants to leave?”
Th silence of a dozen children holding their breath and their tongues filled the room. “Don't worry,” Kiryu said, “Noriko's not coming with us. We've got something special planned for her.”
“Where are we going?” A small voice asked. Kazuma looked around to see one of the youngest and newest collars with her hand half raised. He didn't know her name, he realised. He'd never learned it.
“We've got our own little place,” came the answer. The dark haired man Kiryu was beside spoke gently. “It's not as fancy as this, but you'll be treated fair. You work for your food, but we don't punish you by taking away your food, or beating you. You sleep when you're tired. Your clothes and shoes are yours.”
Kazuma swallowed. “What are you going to do to the masters?” he asked, his eyes flicking to Kiryu and finding the older boy smiling at him.
“They're going to get what they deserve,” Kiryu said. “They let you be beaten and starved today, didn't they?” he asked.
Kazuma's stomach lurched and he bowed his head. He felt sick with fear.
“They're gonna get a taste of their own medicine.”
He needed to find Miss Vaisravana and get her away from this place. It didn't matter that she'd never hurt any of them, she was still a master to these collars. The lord and lady, too; they'd never whipped a collar here, as far as Kazuma knew, never even spoken to one of the below stairs collars like himself, but under their ownership collars like Noriko had flogged and slapped, and starved and punished.
“We'll get you out first,” said one of the strangers. “Then we're coming back for the masters.”
Kazuma got to his feet as the rest of them moved. If they were leading the young collars away first it gave him a little time. Perhaps he could warn the others, or find the young miss and get her out of the house before they returned.
He kept himself near the back of the group as they were led down the corridor, towards the delivery doors for the coal and wood fires. Kazuma slowed, letting the group pull slightly ahead as they disappeared into the coal storage, and then he slipped into the corridor that led to the above stairs collar's sleeping quarters.
Then he ran. There was an entrance to the old corridors down here, hidden behind a mirrored stand that the above stairs collars were meant to use to ensure they were presentable before showing their faces. Kazuma picked the end of the stand up, easing it out a few inches so he could open the door. His heart thundered in his chest, and his lungs felt tight. He had to be quick; Kiryu would have already noticed he was gone.
He shimmied into the corridor, and dragged the cabinet back as far as he could. The wooden leg scraped on the stone, and Kazuma had to stop when the door slammed against his wrist. He didn't know if it was far enough. He had to hope it was.
Down the corridor, up some hidden stairs, right between the reception room and the ball room. Kazuma gasped for breath as he ran. He hoped Miss Vaisravana was at the library, waiting for him. The gouges across his back burned as he ran.
The muffled sound of shouting filtered through the walls. Kazuma's heart was about to burst out of his chest. Left, and then another right brought him to the library. He threw himself at the door and tumbled out, half wrapped in a tapestry.
He heard Miss Vaisravana scream as he hit the floor, and Kazuma scrabbled to his feet, but it wasn't a scream of pain. She screamed again, and there was a sickening crunch as someone fell to the floor.
Miss Vaisravana stood, her face a mask of fury, a heavy pewter candlestick gripped in her hands like a club. She swung it in an upwards arc as someone else tried to approach her, stepping over the unconscious, or dead, form of their ally. She missed, but spun herself with the momentum, snarling as she did to make for another attempt.
Kazuma scrambled to his feet and launched himself at her attacker. He landed, knocking the person to the floor and rolling with him. A hand gripped around his throat, and a fist landed squarely in his face making Kazuma see stars, his jaw exploding with pain.
There was a heavy thud and the weight on top of Kazuma fell sideways to the floor, replaced immediately by a different weight. Kazuma's world became shrouded in flower scented blonde hair for a moment, and the warmth of an embrace.
“Kazuma,” she said, relief colouring her voice.
Kazuma blinked. He wanted to hold her, but the sound of running feet outside the library woke him from that dream. “We have to go,” he said, pushing himself back to his feet. He could taste blood in his mouth, and a sharp pain when he spoke made it clear he'd bitten his tongue when he'd been punched.
“Hide,” she told him, returning her grip to her candlestick. “I'll keep them back.”
Kazuma stared at her. For a split second he believed her. Her dress was sprayed with droplets of someone else's blood, and her lilac eyes were bright with anger.
He shook himself out of it, lurched forward, and grabbed her arm, dragging her towards the collar door he'd fallen through. “There's too many,” he warned her, “come with me. I have to get you out of here.”
She yanked her arm back. Kazuma's grip slipped, but he didn't let go. “I'm not leaving,” she said, staring at him. “This is my house.”
Kazuma stared back at her. “They're going to kill you all,” he said. “Please, my lady, you have to run.”
“I'm not running away,” she said.
Kazuma looked to the entrance to the library, and then back to the young miss. Of course she wouldn't run. He could see the anger in her eyes, and the line of her jaw. She wasn't going to run away and let this happen.
“Fine,” he said, “but I know a safer way.”
He pulled her into the collar corridor, easing the door shut behind them both. Kazuma's every instinct was to run and hide, to take Miss Vaisravana and lead her away.
“It's the same as what happened to the Ebisu estate, isn't it?” she asked, quietly.
Kazuma nodded in the darkness. “They collected the below stairs collars first,” he said, in a whisper. “They told us we had a choice, and they were going to punish you. I slipped away,” he added.
“I need to get to my mother and father,” she said.
Kazuma sighed. “I think I know the way,” he told her.
A warm hand gripped his upper arm and tugged him round. In the dim light of the corridor Kazuma looked up into dark eyes framed by pale skin. “Thank you,” she said, “for coming back for me.”
Kazuma swallowed over the growing lump in his throat. Her earnestness was painful. He'd thought that all the collars would have stayed, remained loyal to her and the estate. His stomach roiled with the fact that he'd been wrong. “I will not leave you, my lady,” he told her.
They moved as swiftly through the corridors as they could. The journey took them back down, towards the kitchens. The muffled sound of shouts and screams crept into the corridor as they passed.
Kazuma halted at the kitchen, listening through the door before he eased it open. The kitchen was silent, and ransacked. The cupboards hung open, halfway to bare, drawers hadn't been shut, their contents dumped on the floor. Broken glass glittered on the table and crunched underfoot as Kazuma crept out.
His breath caught in his throat. The smell of blood was everywhere. Miss Vaisravana was a step behind him as he ran to Touma and knelt beside her. Her clothes were torn, her face bloodied. Her palms were sliced as if she'd gripped a knife by the blade and fought against it.
“Touma,” he said, gripping her shoulders and shaking the other collar.
Miss Vaisravana's fingers pressed against Touma's throat, and Kazuma saw the red raw lines of string, or rope, or something etched into the skin. Touma's eyes were open, and unseeing.
“She's gone,” Miss Vaisravana said. “I'm sorry. Was she a friend?”
Kazuma nodded, unable to speak as his throat closed up. Touma had remained loyal, had fought rather than run, or capitulate. His eyes burned, but he made himself stand. His legs wobbled; all he wanted to do was cry but there was no time for that. Not now.
“This one takes us to the master's quarters,” he said, his voice cracking. He headed to the big preparation table and pulled on it, dragging it away from the wall. Another door lay beyond, one that was originally used to deliver breakfast to the masters quickly.
A hand landed on his shoulder, gentle and warm. Kazuma turned to face the young miss, sorrow and pain in her own eyes. “I need you, Kazuma,” she said, “stay with me.”
Kazuma swallowed hard over the tight, painful lump in his throat and nodded. He didn't want to take her up there. What if they were already too late? What if they weren't? Would he be able to fight well enough to keep her safe?
“Stay close, my lady,” he said, as he opened the door. This corridor was mustier, dustier than the others. Kazuma suspected one or two collars, like Touma, and himself, still used the others to get around the house quickly, or slip outside unseen. This one, however, led upstairs, directly to the master's rooms. The masters didn't take breakfast in bed, so no one had any need to use it. Until now.
The floor creaked beneath their feet. Kazuma moved as fast as he dared, not wanting to be heard by unseen intruders on the opposite side of the walls as they made their way up. He stopped at the doorway, and slid open the vent that also served as a viewing panel. Through the latticework he saw feet dashing back and forth.
Miss Vaisravana came beside him, so close her hair brushed his cheek, and peeked too.
“-- looks like she ran.”
“Dutch'll be pissed.”
“That's his problem. We can't stay to look for her; if she did run the law could be here any time.”
“So all this and we get a bunch of kids and some jewellery? Great. More mouths to feed.”
“Kids make good pickpockets, and a couple of the girls are old enough to work. Shame about the daughter, but she's no good to us without someone to pay her ransom.”
“He disrespected me.”
“Everyone disrespects you because you do stupid shit like beat a guy to death before he can tell you where the safe is.”
Kazuma felt the jump from the young miss, and he whirled and clamped a hand over her mouth. He knew, as well as she did, that the person they were talking about beating to death could be Lord Bishamon. It could also be his valet, or another trusted collar. Whoever it was, he couldn't allow Miss Vaisravana to let her emotions take over.
He saw the glisten in her eyes that hinted at tears and felt it yank at his heart. Her breath was warm and wet against his palm. “Wait,” he whispered, as quietly as he could.
Hurried footsteps approached the vent, moved past it, and then halted. “No sign.”
“You got the old crone?”
“They're dealing with her now.”
“Come on, then, before the law knows what's happened. If we see the girl, take her, alive. She might know where the safe is.”
Kazuma slowly withdrew his hand from over Miss Vaisravana's mouth. The footsteps died away down the hall.
“We're too late,” she said, her voice cracking in the quiet.
Kazuma pushed carefully at the door. The heavy flutter of a tapestry being lifted broke the silence as the door opened, letting in a sliver of light from the corridor. There were bloodied footprints on the carpet. Kazuma crept out first, silent as he could be. There were still sounds from elsewhere in the house but they were dying away, bit by bit.
The young miss turned, following the path of the footprints back to their source, into her parent's bedroom, her candlestick ready to swing. Kazuma followed her, dreading what they might find.
There was more blood in the room, splattered across the walls, and a pool of it on the floor, glistening. Miss Vaisravana ran the last few steps, through the blood and went to her knees beside her father. Kazuma wouldn't have recognised him were it not for his clothes. His face was purpled and blooded, his nose and jaw at awkward angles, blood coming from his ear and mouth. His eyes were swollen shut, and part of his head looked the wrong shape.
“Father? Daddy?” the young miss was saying, shaking the body with increasing urgency.
Kazuma turned to the bed. Lady Bishamon was sprawled across it, the same raw marks around her neck as Touma had borne. Here eyes were open, but filled with blood, and her neck was scratched raw with clawmarks. Kazuma could see blood at her fingers.
He held the back of his hand in front of her mouth, but he couldn't feel even the faintest gust of her breath.
Kazuma looked to Miss Vaisravana again as she broke down sobbing. He walked around the bed, through the pool of her father's blood, and took her arm, tugging her away from the scene. “You cannot stay here,” he said. They were searching for her. If they decided to give the building one more sweep she'd share her parent's fate.
She didn't seem to hear him. Her cries became huge, bawling sobs and her hands shook as she touched her father's wounds. “My lady?” Kazuma tried, tugging at her arm again.
She brushed his hand away, slumping down and curling into herself.
“Vaisravana,” Kazuma tried, “please. I need to get you to safety.”
She looked at him, then, blinking through her tears. Then she threw herself onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck and sobbing into his shoulder. Kazuma blinked; the whole evening had become too much to take in and it had made him numb. Carefully, he folded his arms around her, his fingers sinking into her long blonde hair as he held her.
“Please, Vaisravana,” he repeated, “we have to go.”
He helped her stand, her legs unsteady, and she leaned on him as she fought to breathe through her sobs. He led her out of the bedroom and down the hall, away from the direction the intruders had gone. There was a fire escape at the far end, he knew, that led down into the gardens. They could go there, and shelter until the sun came up, and then Kazuma could go and get help.
Her sobs became quieter, less desperate as they travelled. She instead became quiet, withdrawn, her head falling onto Kazuma's shoulder. Visions of Lady Bishamon, Touma, and Lord Bishamon plagued Kazuma's mind, but he felt a guilty thrill at Miss Vaisravana's closeness. She'd need him, he knew, over the coming days, and weeks, and he intended to be there for her.
“Good,” Miss Vaisravana said. He didn't call her that aloud; she was 'miss', always, or 'my lady', but in the privacy of his head he remembered her name and cherished it, like a precious gift he'd been given. She wasn't just Young Miss Bishamon to him, just as he wasn't a nameless, faceless scullion to her.
They met at night, in secret. The other collars fell asleep quickly, and Kazuma waited until the corridors fell quiet and there was naught but the sound of breathing all around. Then he stole from his bed and slipped into the old hidden routes to meet Miss Vaisravana in the library. She taught him to read by candlelight, her bare feet tucked up onto the chaise as she leaned into him, following over his shoulder as he made his way through the unfamiliar symbols that were letters, picking out the syllables so he could speak them to her.
It had been distracting at first. Her shoulder brushed against his and he froze, and if he concentrated he could feel her breath fluttering the air by his cheek. But that meant he wasn't concentrating on the words.
He was doing well, she said. A couple of weeks of nightly visits to the library had left him exhausted during the day, and he'd had more than one reprimand already for daring to yawn, but he'd moved on from cats that sat on mats to short books that had an actual story.
He yawned now. Squinting at the page in the dim light made him tired, and he usually ended his time with the young miss with a headache. His eyes weren't perfect, but his glasses were only as good as they needed to be for him to see the dirt he was meant to clean. Focusing for so long on things as intricate as words was difficult.
“Maybe that's enough for tonight,” Miss Vaisravana said, sitting upright and drawing away from Kazuma's shoulder. He missed the radiated warmth of her presence immediately.
“No!” he protested. “No miss,” he corrected himself, “I'm fine.”
She looked at him. Kazuma was swallowed by her lilac eyes. He'd been told she had them from her mother, although he'd never dared to look into Lady Bishamon's face to see. He shouldn't dare to look at the young lady's either, he knew, but he couldn't stop himself. “Well maybe that's enough reading for tonight,” she said. “You work so hard, you deserve a break.” She took the book from his hands without pause, slipping a bookmark into the pages and closing it.
What would they do instead? Without a book to learn from or ducklings to feed Kazuma would be dull company for a lady such as her. He didn't know how to entertain masters like some collars. Some collars existed just to do that; to be attractive and engaging and amuse and delight with their mere existence. The Bishamonten household didn't keep any of those, but the others whispered of them sometimes. There were whole estates, they said, where every collar was as pretty and brightly coloured as a peacock. They didn't have the drab brown hair of Kazuma, and the other collars here because they were meant to be noticed, to stand out and be looked at. They were decorations as much as they were property.
“I hope you're still feeding our ducks,” Miss Vaisravana said, dragging Kazuma from his thoughts.
He smiled, and gave a single deep nod. “I am, miss,” he confirmed. “The new ducklings are losing their down, now,” he told her.
She smiled wistfully. “I wish I could feed them with you,” she sighed. “I hate the piano, but father insists I learn.”
Kazuma's heart did a leap in his chest, spinning like a dancer as it jumped. “They enjoyed the peas today,” he told her.
Her face lit up with a smile that warmed Kazuma deep into his bones. “Really?” she asked. A punnet of fresh peas had been tucked into a small basket set aside for Kazuma to find. The tree by the lake was their place now. Every day he went out at lunch to find a wrapped parcel of sandwiches for himself, and a punnet of something for the ducks. Today it had been peas. The day before it had been a tub of corn.
His sandwich today had been salmon and cream cheese with lamb's lettuce on fresh, thick, crusty bread. The sandwich he'd been given from the collar kitchen was suspicious smelling paste on a stale heel. Miss Vaisravana had explained to him that too much bread was bad for ducks, but seeing the food he was expected to eat now he had the young miss secretly sending him an alternative, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd be better off eating the duck's food himself instead. It certainly looked a lot more appetising.
He nodded at the young miss's question. “Yes,” he confirmed, “nearly as much as they enjoyed the corn yesterday.” Miss Vaisravan's smile stayed in place, genuine warmth and pleasure alight in her eyes. Kazuma wanted her to look at him that way forever. “And I,” he continued, more nervously, “am grateful for mine, also.”
The happiness drained from her smile, replaced with sadness. “When I'm the lady of the house,” she said, turning away from Kazuma and leaning back against the seat, “you'll all get good food every day.”
“We do, miss,” Kazuma began, the lie he'd been told a hundred thousand times at the tip of his tongue and exiting before his brain had even caught it.
“No you don't,” she replied, cutting him off before he'd begun his defence. “You get scraps that father wouldn't even feed his dogs.” She sighed and pulled her legs up, tucking her knees against her chest. “It's no wonder some collars want revenge.”
Kazuma turned towards her. Miss Vaisravana rested her cheek on her knee and looked at him. “Did you hear about the Ebisu estate?” she asked, “Or did they keep that from you too?”
Kazuma faltered, biting at the inside of his lip. “I know something happened,” he answered, quietly, “but I don't know what. Anyone caught talking about it is beaten.”
Miss Vaisravana's face went stony and hard. For a moment Kazuma thought he'd said something wrong. Her jaw set, and for a split second she looked angry, but then she softened into sadness once more. “When I'm lady,” she said, with steel in her voice, “there won't be any beatings either.”
Kazuma swallowed, unsure of what to say, or if he should say anything. Miss Vaisravana had come back with ideas and questions. When they'd first met again she'd asked so many questions about his life as a collar; where he'd grown up, if he remembered his parents, what it had been like to be sold. It seemed to upset her, but she kept asking anyway, until Kazuma had told her he didn't want to tell her any more because she always looked so hurt by it. He wasn't hurt by it. He had a good enough life; it was hard, the days were long and tiring, but he slept indoors and he ate every day, and most importantly to him he got to meet her. He wouldn't trade that for freedom.
She hadn't known what to say to that, but she'd taken him into her arms and held him there until he thought the joy of it was going to make him explode, and she hadn't asked any more questions since.
“They were attacked,” she said, turning so that she wasn't looking directly at Kazuma any more. “The lord and lady were killed, along with some of their collars. One of the nursemaid collars hid with the young master.” Her arms tightened around her legs. “All the collars that died were loyal. The lord and lady were attacked by ones that weren't.”
Kazuma's stomach dropped, his insides filling with cold and fear. “No collar here would ever—”
“If they're treated like you I wouldn't blame them,” Miss Vaisravana said. Kazuma fell silent. Her pout was visible in the dim candlelight. “They think it started with a break in,” she added. “Escaped collars from somewhere else broke in to free the others, and killed anyone that tried to stop them.” Kazuma watched her knuckles whiten as she gripped her skirt. “Now Lord Ebisu is a child that can't even tie his own shoes.”
Kazuma stared at her hand, her long fingers curled into the soft cotton of her dress. He wanted to reach out and take it into his. Would her fingers be warm? They'd certainly be soft. He wanted to tell her that he'd stand between her and danger, just like the collars that had died for lord and lady Ebisu. He wouldn't do it for the lord and lady Bishamon, he realised, his stomach flipping at the realisation, but he'd do it for Miss Vaisravana.
She gave a soft, bitter laugh. “I shouldn't be scaring you with stories like this,” she said, letting go of her skirt and unfolding her legs so that her bare feet touched the ground once more. “You should go to bed,” she added, casting a soft smile at Kazuma that made his heart soar. “I know they make you get up early.”
Kazuma fought against the yawn that threatened to crawl up his throat. “As you wish,” he answered.
“I do,” she told him, reaching out to ruffle his hair. Her hand fell from there onto his shoulder and sent a thrill along Kazuma's spine. “Same time tomorrow,” she told him.
Kazuma gave a nod, and her hand fell away from his shoulder, but the heat of her skin remained there even after Kazuma had slipped away to his straw mattress and thin blanket, nestled in amongst the other young collars.
Pain seared through Kazuma's body as the leather bit into his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth. He tried to focus on the feeling of his nails digging into his palms, or the cold stone hurting his knees. The smack of leather against flesh broke his concentration and he whimpered.
“Five,” Noriko counted, her voice calm and cold. “Strike harder or you'll share the next five.”
The next blow was harder. Kazuma felt the warmth of blood drip down his back in its wake. If it left a scar, it probably wouldn't be his first, just as it was unlikely to be his last.
Tears welled in his eyes as the next strikes came. The pain had turned from sharp and searing to stabbing as the leather strips of the flog landed against his battered and sliced skin. He fought not to cry as the last blow landed. His entire back burned.
“Count yourself lucky,” Noriko said, dripping spite and ice. “Lazy boys get sold to work the fields. You won't get time to doze off then.”
“Yes ma'am,” Kazuma answered, his voice cracking with the pain.
“Get your shirt back on and get back to work,” she snapped, turning away from him.
“Sorry,” Kiryu said, once the door had closed behind Noriko. He was two years older than Kazuma, and had the broad shoulders and stocky build of someone good at lifting and carrying. He usually worked in the stable, where the ability to throw hay bales around and wield a shovel like it was part of your arm was useful. Unfortunately, that also made him Noriko's preferred flogger. Kazuma struggled to his feet and found his shirt being held out to him by the other collar. “I tried,” he said, a sadness sweeping across his face.
Kazuma shook his head. “It's not your fault,” he said, as reassuringly as he could. His skin felt as if it were on fire, and he could feel blood still dripping down his back and soaking the top of his trousers. He was going to have to scrub them tonight.
“You want some help cleaning up?” Kiryu offered.
Kazuma shook his head. “I'll be fine,” he answered. “Thank you.”
“Try not to get caught again,” Kiryu advised, giving Kazuma an awkward, self conscious smile before he left. Kazuma sighed. If he put his shirt on over his bleeding back, he'd be in for another flogging for ruining the clothes he'd been given. The only other collar he knew that might be inclined to help him was Touma.
“I heard you'd been caught sleeping,” Touma said, the moment Kazuma entered the kitchen, his shirt in hand. “Let's see.” She urged him to turn around with her hand on his shoulder and looked at the damage critically. “It could be worse,” she concluded. “Sit.”
Kazuma sat. He only felt more tired after being beaten. He'd been woken with a start by Noriko slapping him across the face, and then he'd been led by his hair through the gardens and into the small bedroom all the younger collars shared. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but his nightly visits in the library with Miss Vaisravana had cut into his sleep. He'd gone out to the pond for his lunch, like always, and he was sure he'd only closed his eyes for a minute, but then....
“Does everyone know?” he asked, quietly.
Something warm and wet pressed gently against his abused back, and Kazuma hissed. “Just everyone that heard the old hag screeching at you,” Touma answered. “Hold still.”
Kazuma did his best to do as he was told. “Do the masters know?” he asked.
There was a pause. Touma's hand moved against Kazuma's back, bathing another spot, and then she whispered, “You mean does the young miss know?”
Kazuma's cheeks heated, despite the pain he was in. He didn't want Miss Vaisravana to know. It would upset her, and he didn't think he could bear seeing her upset like that, but more importantly, he didn't think he could stand it if she decided to cancel their nightly meetings over it.
“That's why you fell asleep, isn't it?” Touma asked, her voice still hushed. The young kitchen hands were busy at the other end of the kitchen, and Touma was barely audible to Kazuma over the sound of them sweeping and scrubbing. “You need to stop this. What do you think is going to happen?” Touma hissed at him. She reapplied the cloth she was cleaning his back with in a new spot and Kazuma jerked away from the sting. “She's a master, Kazuma. Do you know what teenage masters do to young collars?”
Kazuma blinked at the question. “No,” he answered.
Touma's hand stilled on his back, and it took a long moment before she moved again. “Well, good,” she said. “I hope you don't find out.”
“The young miss wouldn't do anything to hurt any collar,” Kazuma replied, feeling compelled to defend Miss Vaisravana's honour, although what Touma was accusing her of he couldn't guess.
“Sure,” Touma replied, skepticism heavy in her voice. She turned away to wring her cloth out and rinse it through. “It's a good job she's going back to school in a couple of weeks.”
The reminder made Kazuma's stomach lurch and drop. The days with Miss Vaisravana in the house were brighter, and passed more quickly. Before long she'd be gone again, along with the summer, and Kazuma's days would drag as the leaves turned brown and fell from the trees and the air turned chill.
When the bleeding had stopped, and the blood cleaned away, Kazuma pulled his shirt back on and threw himself back into his work. His eyes stung with tiredness, but he didn't dare get caught doing so much as yawning. At dinner he was given stale bread, and hard cheese; leftovers, he knew. Touma would have fed him a hot meal like all the others, so this had Noriko's mark.
He didn't dare complain. Instead he found a quiet corner of the collar dormitory to sit and eat, where the smell of stewed vegetables and dumplings couldn't remind him of what he was being denied while he ate.
Night was drawing in when the commotion began. Kazuma was on his knees, up to his elbows in the laundry tub. He stopped, and listened, sharing a look with the other young collar he was working with. She paused in her darning as they both listened.
Hurried footsteps darted down the corridor, one person at first, their thin shoes slapping on the stone, and then a second, a third, a group. Everything was eerily quiet for a few seconds as the footsteps moved past the laundry room, and then the sound of doors banging off the walls as they were thrown open burst through the silence.
Kazuma scrambled away from the tub, backing away from the door as it too was thrown open and a stranger's face peered inside. “Two kids,” he said to some unseen companion further down the hall. A moment later the man's eyes landed on Kazuma and Tsuguha and he gestured to them. “Out here. Do as you're told and you won't get hurt.”
“Who are you?” Kazuma asked, still on his knees. The man wore a collar, he noticed, the plain brown leather of a basic housecollar, but he was scarred like a Fighter, and carrying a knife.
“Your salvation,” came the answer through a twisted smile that sent a shiver down Kazuma's spine. “We've come to free you.”
He took them down to the dormitory, where the other collars had been gathered. Kazuma cast his eyes around; Kiryu was there, on his feet near the door, talking to a stranger with dark hair and a plain brown collar. He didn't see Touma, or Noriko, or any of the above stairs collars. Kiryu nodded and smiled at Kazuma as he passed, but didn't halt his conversation. Kazuma joined the others, huddled in a group, on their knees.
“Here's the deal,” one of them said, an oily looking collar with a scarred chin, “you join us, you earn your freedom, you work with us freeing others and punishing the masters. Or,” he paused to grin and look around at the assembled collars in the room. They were all young, most of them less than sixteen. “You can stay here with your masters and share in their fate. The choice is yours.”
Kazuma looked around and found himself locking eyes with others as they all sought each other out. Collars never got to make their own decisions. Kazuma wanted to stay, he'd never betray Miss Vaisravana, but the prickle of his skin and the pounding of his heart told him to stay quiet for now.
“So who wants to leave?”
Th silence of a dozen children holding their breath and their tongues filled the room. “Don't worry,” Kiryu said, “Noriko's not coming with us. We've got something special planned for her.”
“Where are we going?” A small voice asked. Kazuma looked around to see one of the youngest and newest collars with her hand half raised. He didn't know her name, he realised. He'd never learned it.
“We've got our own little place,” came the answer. The dark haired man Kiryu was beside spoke gently. “It's not as fancy as this, but you'll be treated fair. You work for your food, but we don't punish you by taking away your food, or beating you. You sleep when you're tired. Your clothes and shoes are yours.”
Kazuma swallowed. “What are you going to do to the masters?” he asked, his eyes flicking to Kiryu and finding the older boy smiling at him.
“They're going to get what they deserve,” Kiryu said. “They let you be beaten and starved today, didn't they?” he asked.
Kazuma's stomach lurched and he bowed his head. He felt sick with fear.
“They're gonna get a taste of their own medicine.”
He needed to find Miss Vaisravana and get her away from this place. It didn't matter that she'd never hurt any of them, she was still a master to these collars. The lord and lady, too; they'd never whipped a collar here, as far as Kazuma knew, never even spoken to one of the below stairs collars like himself, but under their ownership collars like Noriko had flogged and slapped, and starved and punished.
“We'll get you out first,” said one of the strangers. “Then we're coming back for the masters.”
Kazuma got to his feet as the rest of them moved. If they were leading the young collars away first it gave him a little time. Perhaps he could warn the others, or find the young miss and get her out of the house before they returned.
He kept himself near the back of the group as they were led down the corridor, towards the delivery doors for the coal and wood fires. Kazuma slowed, letting the group pull slightly ahead as they disappeared into the coal storage, and then he slipped into the corridor that led to the above stairs collar's sleeping quarters.
Then he ran. There was an entrance to the old corridors down here, hidden behind a mirrored stand that the above stairs collars were meant to use to ensure they were presentable before showing their faces. Kazuma picked the end of the stand up, easing it out a few inches so he could open the door. His heart thundered in his chest, and his lungs felt tight. He had to be quick; Kiryu would have already noticed he was gone.
He shimmied into the corridor, and dragged the cabinet back as far as he could. The wooden leg scraped on the stone, and Kazuma had to stop when the door slammed against his wrist. He didn't know if it was far enough. He had to hope it was.
Down the corridor, up some hidden stairs, right between the reception room and the ball room. Kazuma gasped for breath as he ran. He hoped Miss Vaisravana was at the library, waiting for him. The gouges across his back burned as he ran.
The muffled sound of shouting filtered through the walls. Kazuma's heart was about to burst out of his chest. Left, and then another right brought him to the library. He threw himself at the door and tumbled out, half wrapped in a tapestry.
He heard Miss Vaisravana scream as he hit the floor, and Kazuma scrabbled to his feet, but it wasn't a scream of pain. She screamed again, and there was a sickening crunch as someone fell to the floor.
Miss Vaisravana stood, her face a mask of fury, a heavy pewter candlestick gripped in her hands like a club. She swung it in an upwards arc as someone else tried to approach her, stepping over the unconscious, or dead, form of their ally. She missed, but spun herself with the momentum, snarling as she did to make for another attempt.
Kazuma scrambled to his feet and launched himself at her attacker. He landed, knocking the person to the floor and rolling with him. A hand gripped around his throat, and a fist landed squarely in his face making Kazuma see stars, his jaw exploding with pain.
There was a heavy thud and the weight on top of Kazuma fell sideways to the floor, replaced immediately by a different weight. Kazuma's world became shrouded in flower scented blonde hair for a moment, and the warmth of an embrace.
“Kazuma,” she said, relief colouring her voice.
Kazuma blinked. He wanted to hold her, but the sound of running feet outside the library woke him from that dream. “We have to go,” he said, pushing himself back to his feet. He could taste blood in his mouth, and a sharp pain when he spoke made it clear he'd bitten his tongue when he'd been punched.
“Hide,” she told him, returning her grip to her candlestick. “I'll keep them back.”
Kazuma stared at her. For a split second he believed her. Her dress was sprayed with droplets of someone else's blood, and her lilac eyes were bright with anger.
He shook himself out of it, lurched forward, and grabbed her arm, dragging her towards the collar door he'd fallen through. “There's too many,” he warned her, “come with me. I have to get you out of here.”
She yanked her arm back. Kazuma's grip slipped, but he didn't let go. “I'm not leaving,” she said, staring at him. “This is my house.”
Kazuma stared back at her. “They're going to kill you all,” he said. “Please, my lady, you have to run.”
“I'm not running away,” she said.
Kazuma looked to the entrance to the library, and then back to the young miss. Of course she wouldn't run. He could see the anger in her eyes, and the line of her jaw. She wasn't going to run away and let this happen.
“Fine,” he said, “but I know a safer way.”
He pulled her into the collar corridor, easing the door shut behind them both. Kazuma's every instinct was to run and hide, to take Miss Vaisravana and lead her away.
“It's the same as what happened to the Ebisu estate, isn't it?” she asked, quietly.
Kazuma nodded in the darkness. “They collected the below stairs collars first,” he said, in a whisper. “They told us we had a choice, and they were going to punish you. I slipped away,” he added.
“I need to get to my mother and father,” she said.
Kazuma sighed. “I think I know the way,” he told her.
A warm hand gripped his upper arm and tugged him round. In the dim light of the corridor Kazuma looked up into dark eyes framed by pale skin. “Thank you,” she said, “for coming back for me.”
Kazuma swallowed over the growing lump in his throat. Her earnestness was painful. He'd thought that all the collars would have stayed, remained loyal to her and the estate. His stomach roiled with the fact that he'd been wrong. “I will not leave you, my lady,” he told her.
They moved as swiftly through the corridors as they could. The journey took them back down, towards the kitchens. The muffled sound of shouts and screams crept into the corridor as they passed.
Kazuma halted at the kitchen, listening through the door before he eased it open. The kitchen was silent, and ransacked. The cupboards hung open, halfway to bare, drawers hadn't been shut, their contents dumped on the floor. Broken glass glittered on the table and crunched underfoot as Kazuma crept out.
His breath caught in his throat. The smell of blood was everywhere. Miss Vaisravana was a step behind him as he ran to Touma and knelt beside her. Her clothes were torn, her face bloodied. Her palms were sliced as if she'd gripped a knife by the blade and fought against it.
“Touma,” he said, gripping her shoulders and shaking the other collar.
Miss Vaisravana's fingers pressed against Touma's throat, and Kazuma saw the red raw lines of string, or rope, or something etched into the skin. Touma's eyes were open, and unseeing.
“She's gone,” Miss Vaisravana said. “I'm sorry. Was she a friend?”
Kazuma nodded, unable to speak as his throat closed up. Touma had remained loyal, had fought rather than run, or capitulate. His eyes burned, but he made himself stand. His legs wobbled; all he wanted to do was cry but there was no time for that. Not now.
“This one takes us to the master's quarters,” he said, his voice cracking. He headed to the big preparation table and pulled on it, dragging it away from the wall. Another door lay beyond, one that was originally used to deliver breakfast to the masters quickly.
A hand landed on his shoulder, gentle and warm. Kazuma turned to face the young miss, sorrow and pain in her own eyes. “I need you, Kazuma,” she said, “stay with me.”
Kazuma swallowed hard over the tight, painful lump in his throat and nodded. He didn't want to take her up there. What if they were already too late? What if they weren't? Would he be able to fight well enough to keep her safe?
“Stay close, my lady,” he said, as he opened the door. This corridor was mustier, dustier than the others. Kazuma suspected one or two collars, like Touma, and himself, still used the others to get around the house quickly, or slip outside unseen. This one, however, led upstairs, directly to the master's rooms. The masters didn't take breakfast in bed, so no one had any need to use it. Until now.
The floor creaked beneath their feet. Kazuma moved as fast as he dared, not wanting to be heard by unseen intruders on the opposite side of the walls as they made their way up. He stopped at the doorway, and slid open the vent that also served as a viewing panel. Through the latticework he saw feet dashing back and forth.
Miss Vaisravana came beside him, so close her hair brushed his cheek, and peeked too.
“-- looks like she ran.”
“Dutch'll be pissed.”
“That's his problem. We can't stay to look for her; if she did run the law could be here any time.”
“So all this and we get a bunch of kids and some jewellery? Great. More mouths to feed.”
“Kids make good pickpockets, and a couple of the girls are old enough to work. Shame about the daughter, but she's no good to us without someone to pay her ransom.”
“He disrespected me.”
“Everyone disrespects you because you do stupid shit like beat a guy to death before he can tell you where the safe is.”
Kazuma felt the jump from the young miss, and he whirled and clamped a hand over her mouth. He knew, as well as she did, that the person they were talking about beating to death could be Lord Bishamon. It could also be his valet, or another trusted collar. Whoever it was, he couldn't allow Miss Vaisravana to let her emotions take over.
He saw the glisten in her eyes that hinted at tears and felt it yank at his heart. Her breath was warm and wet against his palm. “Wait,” he whispered, as quietly as he could.
Hurried footsteps approached the vent, moved past it, and then halted. “No sign.”
“You got the old crone?”
“They're dealing with her now.”
“Come on, then, before the law knows what's happened. If we see the girl, take her, alive. She might know where the safe is.”
Kazuma slowly withdrew his hand from over Miss Vaisravana's mouth. The footsteps died away down the hall.
“We're too late,” she said, her voice cracking in the quiet.
Kazuma pushed carefully at the door. The heavy flutter of a tapestry being lifted broke the silence as the door opened, letting in a sliver of light from the corridor. There were bloodied footprints on the carpet. Kazuma crept out first, silent as he could be. There were still sounds from elsewhere in the house but they were dying away, bit by bit.
The young miss turned, following the path of the footprints back to their source, into her parent's bedroom, her candlestick ready to swing. Kazuma followed her, dreading what they might find.
There was more blood in the room, splattered across the walls, and a pool of it on the floor, glistening. Miss Vaisravana ran the last few steps, through the blood and went to her knees beside her father. Kazuma wouldn't have recognised him were it not for his clothes. His face was purpled and blooded, his nose and jaw at awkward angles, blood coming from his ear and mouth. His eyes were swollen shut, and part of his head looked the wrong shape.
“Father? Daddy?” the young miss was saying, shaking the body with increasing urgency.
Kazuma turned to the bed. Lady Bishamon was sprawled across it, the same raw marks around her neck as Touma had borne. Here eyes were open, but filled with blood, and her neck was scratched raw with clawmarks. Kazuma could see blood at her fingers.
He held the back of his hand in front of her mouth, but he couldn't feel even the faintest gust of her breath.
Kazuma looked to Miss Vaisravana again as she broke down sobbing. He walked around the bed, through the pool of her father's blood, and took her arm, tugging her away from the scene. “You cannot stay here,” he said. They were searching for her. If they decided to give the building one more sweep she'd share her parent's fate.
She didn't seem to hear him. Her cries became huge, bawling sobs and her hands shook as she touched her father's wounds. “My lady?” Kazuma tried, tugging at her arm again.
She brushed his hand away, slumping down and curling into herself.
“Vaisravana,” Kazuma tried, “please. I need to get you to safety.”
She looked at him, then, blinking through her tears. Then she threw herself onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck and sobbing into his shoulder. Kazuma blinked; the whole evening had become too much to take in and it had made him numb. Carefully, he folded his arms around her, his fingers sinking into her long blonde hair as he held her.
“Please, Vaisravana,” he repeated, “we have to go.”
He helped her stand, her legs unsteady, and she leaned on him as she fought to breathe through her sobs. He led her out of the bedroom and down the hall, away from the direction the intruders had gone. There was a fire escape at the far end, he knew, that led down into the gardens. They could go there, and shelter until the sun came up, and then Kazuma could go and get help.
Her sobs became quieter, less desperate as they travelled. She instead became quiet, withdrawn, her head falling onto Kazuma's shoulder. Visions of Lady Bishamon, Touma, and Lord Bishamon plagued Kazuma's mind, but he felt a guilty thrill at Miss Vaisravana's closeness. She'd need him, he knew, over the coming days, and weeks, and he intended to be there for her.
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Somebody slap Dutch.