Juuhachi-gou lay in bed, her lean hands folded softly over her chest, her fingers clasped loosely. Her wide blue eyes stared up at the ceiling, blinking slowly in the darkness. Her breath had slowed to almost nothing; her heartbeat was shallow and faint. There were trees outside the window, and they swayed back and forth to the rhythm of the crickets, throwing shadows on the walls. As the crickets whispered outside her window, she took in the shadows, watched them as they danced across the wall in the pale moonlight. She didn’t want to think, didn’t want to allow her mind to wander. Lately when her mind wandered, she had been thinking about things so horrifying that it made her nauseous.

It was a secret that she had been keeping to herself for quite some time now: the memories were coming back.

The memories were coming back, and they weren’t pleasant. So terrible, in fact, that she didn’t dare speak of it to anyone else. She didn’t dare tell her husband, who looked at her with such loving eyes. And she didn’t dare tell Marron, for her daughter worshiped her above all else. She could not even bring herself to tell Juunana-gou, though she could tell by the blank, shaken look on his face that he felt it too. They both felt it, felt the sickness and the horror of their memories. And they both felt the threat growing slowly behind them.

But she couldn’t think of it all; wouldn’t allow herself to think of it --- didn’t want to think of it. Instead she concentrated on the shadows, watched them move until her eyes burned and began to water. She blinked again, then turned her head to the side to watch her husband.

Kuririn was sleeping soundly beside her, curled up like a child with his hands near his face. His body was wrapped in the warm silk sheets; he had a tendency to steal them away from her while he was sleeping. She wanted to smile, thinking of how apologetic he always was when he awoke to find her covered with only a quarter of the sheets. She thought of how he tenderly he always lifted the covers up to her chin and tucked the sides all around her, holding her close to keep her warm. He cared so much about her, so much that it overwhelmed her sometimes. She blinked again, her blue eyes focusing on his face. He looked so peaceful next to her, his mouth curled up in a smile as he dreamed. She stared at him for a long time.

“Kuririn….” She whispered softly, knowing that he would not hear.

She turned back to stare at the ceiling, and her pale blue eyes filled with emotion. “I’m sick.”

Just saying the words was enough to make her heart break. She could actually feel it snap in her chest, could actually feel the sharp pain shoot through her body.

Then she realized that the pain was imaginative, it was actually happening to her. It started off slow, then began washing over her in waves --- pain receeding, then growing again. She tensed up her body, squinted her eyes, and gripped the sheets beneath her as hard as she could. The throbbing in her head was excruciating, and it seemed as though the pain were leaking out through her brain and into the rest of her body. It took her breath away, and she gaped at the ceiling, her eyes wide and scared. The pain continued, surging through her limbs, scratching and scraping against her soft skin. She could no longer concentrate on the shadows, on her husband. Her mind wandered, wallowing in pain.

She didn’t want to think about it --- didn’t want to go back there, but as the pain took over her body and her mind, she had no choice.

There was a steady dripping of water from the sink, so repetitive that it was almost hypnotizing. Weary, dizzy, she hung her head. Limp strands of pale blond hair fell into her eyes and she made no effort to brush them away, only stared unseeing at the bars of the cage before her. Somewhere beyond the bars, the doctor was preparing the next experiment, the next exercise in torture and pain.

She was trapped. Beaten, defeated, humiliated. He had taken away every single thing that she had once held dear; everything that was private and pure. He had opened her up and stared at her insides, saw every part of her; the good and the bad. He had seen all of her dreams and hopes, foolish as they may be and crushed them like mere ants under his feet. He had treated her more cruelly than she had ever been treated by another human being, had ripped away her pride and her dignity. And he would do it again and again until she died. There was no way out. There was no hope of being saved.

She was sick. The pain seared through her body, bubbled up in her stomach. She could taste the blood in her mouth, mixing with fear and horror. Shaking hard, she raised a hand to hold her head, which ached in such a way that she had to squint to keep the pain at bay. She could feel it throbbing and building in her brain, and she held her breath, knowing that any moment it was about to explode into a full-blown headache. She waited, and at each new surge of hurt, she blacked out, terrified. Then, as she expected, the headache suddenly screamed through her and it felt as though her brain were being torn in two. She ran raked the hand through her hair, grabbing it roughly as she scrunched her face up in angony. The tears came freely, running down her smooth cheeks as she shook her head back and forth, letting out gasps of pain. She sobbed, choking on her tears, and held her head in her shaking hands.

“Stop it.” A hushed voice warned.

She continued to cry, drawing her sore knees up to her chest, up to the incisions and stitching that ran all across her pale skin. Under her shirt, she could feel it bleeding again. She gasped, sobbed. She wanted to kill herself.

“Stop it! Don’t you give up.” The voice warned again. It was a rough, gravelly voice, and he coughed after he had spoken; a cough that came from deep in the lungs, injured --- wounded.

She knew it had been painful for him to speak; just as painful as it was for her to speak. She didn’t know if the doctor had done this on purpose in order to keep them from talking to each other, but every time she spoke, it felt as though her throat was on fire. Even knowing this, his voice was still a comfort, a needful thing in times such as these.

Her eyes wavered, then fell upon her brother. He sat across from her, his hands tied behind his back, his legs stretched out before him, dirty and bloody. His cheek was cut open and bleeding, trickling down his strong neck and onto his tee shirt.

“Don’t give up, Neechan.” He told her again, but his own eyes were filled with tears, mirroring her own. “We can get out of this, you and I. We just have to be strong. Don’t show your fear, don’t let him know how much it hurts.”

She longed to hold him, to be held by him. She just wanted comfort, wanted love, wanted to feel human again; wanted gentle human contact so bad that she would have clung to anyone. But her brother wasn’t just anyone; he was a constant source of love, someone that had always supported her. Even when they had gotten into trouble in their younger years, he was the one that supported her, loved her. And now, even though he was in agony just as she was, he was still trying to protect her. She strained against the pain and made her way over to him by crawling along the floor on her hands and knees. With a quiet sob, she fell onto his lap, clutching his waist with all her might.

Even death would be better than this. Even death would be kinder than being tortured, than being experimented on. But they weren’t going to die; the doctor wouldn’t let them. He had ‘plans’ for them, and though they didn’t know what, they both knew that it would not be pleasant.

“I’m scared….I’m scared….I’m scared….” She murmured over and over again, gripping his waist tighter and tighter.

“I know, Neechan.” He soothed. Even though his arms were tied tightly behind his back, she could almost feel his arms around her --- so great was his need to hold her. He coughed again, and she felt the pain run through his body.

“I’m scared too.” He rasped. “I’m scared too.”

The tears spilled over onto her cheeks, dripping onto the soft down pillows. Juuhachi-gou stared at the ceiling, wide-eyed and terrified, her mouth open in horror. All was calm for a moment, as her mind tripped out of the memory and back into the real world. Thoughts began to creep back into her head, and she thought about the pain that she had felt, the fear that she had experienced. And she thought about her brother, who had loved her and protected her until the end. She gasped for air, her chest heaving in the darkness. Then the headache came sharp and fast again, overwhelming her with its force as she struggled to keep consciousness, gripping her head in her hands.

It was a blinding pain, the kind of headache that struck right between the eyes and didn’t let up until it left one sprawled on the ground in agony. She groaned, holding her head tighter, trying to press the pain away, to hold it back in. Colors flashed behind her eyelids, bright and obtrusive. She let out a small cry, then shook her head back and forth, her hair swinging across her face and into her eyes. In her blurry, dizzy sickness, she barely noticed as Kuririn raised his head from the pillows, his sleepy eyes adjusting to the darkness.

“Juuhachi?” He croaked, his voice still rough from the sleep.

In response, she groaned and curled into the fetal position, her hands ripping at her pale blond hair.

Kuririn stared at his wife, terrified. Slowly --- very slowly, he removed the covers from his body, easing them to the side. Since he had just been jolted out of his sleep so suddenly, it all seemed like a hazy, terrible dream.

Juuhachi-gou curled up on the bed, writhing in pain as she held her head in her long, slim hands. Her perfect face was drawn into an expression of anguish, her eyes shut so tightly that they appeared to be shaking. He was astounded, terrified. He had never, ever seen her act like this before. It wasn’t so much fear as shock; shock at seeing his beautiful, cool lover reduced to curling up and sobbing like a child. He stared for a moment, confused, frightened, sad, frustrated; a thousand emotions ran through his brain until he couldn’t take it anymore.

He sat up and as gently as he could, he gripped her shoulders. He might have been able to command his body to be calm, but he could not control his voice. When he called out her name, it sounded frantic, panicked.

She didn’t even see him, just continued to shake her head back and forth, tears running down her red cheeks.

“What’s wrong? Juuhachi! Talk to me!” He cried out, trying unsuccessfully to hold her in his arms as she struggled.

At this point, Kuririn was beginning to become very, very worried. With intense eyes, he looked up and also noted that their bedroom door was open. Without the amount of noise Juuhachi-gou was making, Marron was sure to hear them from down the hall. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with Juuhachi-gou, but he knew that Marron would be scared to death if she saw her mother like this. It was scary enough for him to see Juuhachi-gou hysterical and sobbing; he didn’t want to think about what effect it would have on his daughter. He was torn between jumping out of bed to shut the door and staying there to comfort his wife. He looked between the door and Juuhachi-gou rapidly, trying to force his brain to make a decision.

Then, just as quickly as it begun, the sobbing and groaning suddenly stopped, and she became lax in his arms, hanging onto him lifelessly. Her head dropped down, pale hair shimmering in the moonlight, and she seemed to puddle in his hands. He wasn’t sure what to think of this, other than she must have exhausted herself. Carefully, he moved, trying to make her comfortable without hurting her in the process. Finally, he maneuvered her around so that she stared up at his face, her head cradled in the crook of his left arm. Terrified, he looked down at her helplessly.

“Juuhachi, what’s wrong?” He asked desperately, yet tenderly. He did not want to frighten her or put her in any more pain that she was already in.

“I need….” Juuhachi-gou said, in a small voice that he did not recognize. “I need….I’m sick.”

Sick? He thought, puzzled. She is jinzouningen. Jinzouningen are not able to get sick. I didn’t think they ever experienced disease or sickness. There is no way that she could be sick, is there?

He had to admit though, she did not look well. Her cheeks were flushed, her face was pale, and she was shaking so hard that it was difficult to hold onto her. And her eyes were what troubled him the most. They were wide and unseeing, full of tears and unknown terrors. It was a look that he had never seen on her before. Even during times when he himself was scared shitless, Juuhachi-gou had always remained cool and calm, solid as a rock. She had always been the one to back him up and give him strength when things did not work out the way that they planned. She had been the eye of the storm, completely calm even when absolute chaos was drumming all around her. But now....she looked more shaken and upset than he had ever been. And because he was not so strong himself, he did not know how to give her strength, other than to hold onto her tighter. He hoped that the strength would come from somewhere within himself and radiate back into her. Concerned for her now more than ever, he leaned back, still holding onto her rocking body.

His brows drew together, confused. “Sick with….what? You’re….you can’t get sick. It’s not possible.”

She didn’t answer him, but moved, twisting out of his grasp gently, almost sadly. She sat still for a moment, her pale blue eyes pooling with tears again, then crawled around him until her head was in his lap, her arms wrapped around his waist. Her nails bit into his back as she cried, and he stroked her hair, tears of frustration and confusion forming in his eyes.

“I’m scared….I’m scared….I’m scared.” She repeated over and over again, clutching at his waist, tears soaking the sheets.

Juuhachi-gou cried for a very long time, her long, thin body convulsing with each and every sob. Then her tears finally dissipated, and her arms relaxed around his waist as she laid her head in his lap and drifted off into sleep.

Listening to the gentle, rhythmic sounds of his wife’s breathing, Kuririn softly stroked her hair, bewildered. He had no idea what had just happened; in fact, he wasn’t entirely sure that it hadn’t all been a terrible nightmare. His pajama pants were soaked from her tears though, and he could still feel pain in the spots of his back that she had dug her nails in. Undoubtedly, he was going to be quite a mess in the morning.

Her outburst had been completely unexpected, and had caught him off guard in the worst possible way. He wasn’t sure if he had handled it the right way either. All he had been thinking of was that he did not want to lose her. She was the most amazing, perfect thing that had ever happened to him. He couldn’t lose her, didn’t want to even imagine it. Having her breakdown in front of him and not knowing how to make things right was almost painful for him. He had been so terrified and confused himself that he could not even calm her fears. And now she was sleeping, and the only comfort he could give her was warmth and touch.

Still reeling, he shook his head as if to clear it, then turned to look at the shadows from the trees moving across the walls. If anything ever happened to her….Bending down towards her sleeping form, he thought about the last words she had said.

I’m scared….I’m scared….I’m scared….

“Me too.” He whispered quietly against her hair, then kissed her softly on the head, tears falling rapidly. “I’m scared too.”

Chapter 9
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