Side Story: The Path of Stones

Chapter 5 Side Story

The Path of Stones

It was only after he died that he truly lived.

Sato was born blind, deaf, and mute. He had lived always in a world of darkness defined by touch. His favorites were silk and steel. One, because it was slick and incredibly light to the touch. The other, because it could cut him. Both of them were items that were forbidden to his hand.

He was born the only child of an old samurai family, the last of the direct line. They had grieved when they realized their black-haired boy was handicapped beyond repair, but they had made sure he was well-cared for. All his life, he was helpless, controlled by others who he could not see, hear, or speak to.

But then one day, a jealous member of a branch family poisoned him to gain the heir’s position. So he died, unable to tell anyone about the bitter tea that tore his innards asunder and stole his life.

Sato knew who killed him but even as a Shinigami, he couldn’t do anything about it. When he thinks about it, he can still feel the heavy embroidered edge of their robe and the rough calluses of their hands brushing his cheek as they lifted the cup to his lips.

For over a hundred years he had lived in the world of Meifu, one of the top Shinigami of Summons division. With his powers, he could make the sakura petals dance to his will, their minute shadows pulling them this way and that. When he had a mind to, he did the same with individual snowflakes. It was just something he liked to do. Sato loved precision and order.

He didn’t like the others. He especially refused being partnered up with anyone that he didn’t have an interest in working with. Even then, his partners had a messy habit of dying on him. Of course, it was never his fault.

This was true until Tatsumi.

Sato liked him from the start, but he never said anything. After all, it wouldn’t do to have his partner or any of the others think that he was soft. It just wasn’t good for his reputation. He trained Tatsumi by his own hand, and secretly enjoyed watching Tatsumi’s progress, his potential bursting forth like a raging river behind his cool blue eyes.

Sato always liked Tatsumi best. It was because of Tatsumi’s graceful nature, the way his kind spirit was tempered with a resolve of iron. They were traits that Sato liked most about certain people, but in Tatsumi, they were all together in one person, bundled in a charming visage, topped off with these sharp looking modern glasses that corrected his vision.

It was truly love. Sato could gaze forever into those perfectly cerulean eyes.

Their affair had lasted nearly a decade. Looking back, Sato always thought of it as the best time in his existence, the only time that he had ever been truly happy. For Sato, it was his first love. For Tatsumi, it was his second. They had shared everything.

But even then, Sato knew that eventually it would have to end. It wasn’t that he was growing tired of working for Enma – he could hunt down souls all day and not be disinterested. It was because he was hurting Tatsumi.

Sato never liked to admit it to himself, but he knew that his love was slowly destroying the younger man. Sato’s affection was not something that Tatsumi found easy to accept, nor was it something that really made Tatsumi happy. Sato had pursued Tatsumi relentlessly until he captured him, and even then, it was not enough.

Sato learned that it was the one thing that truly marred his character, aside from his impatience and temper, aside from his need to control things. Those were tiny imperfections compared to the real problem.

His love hurt Tatsumi.

And no matter how much Sato wanted Tatsumi, Sato could not stand to continue hurting him. So he gave him to Tsuzuki when the time was right, and left.

This is why they don’t speak anymore. It pains Sato to think about it, but he knows it’s what was best for Tatsumi. He refuses to see Tatsumi anymore, because he can’t stand to see the pain in Tatsumi’s eyes. Better this small hurt than a larger one.

Today, Sato is visiting Chijou. On the eastern coast of Siberia north of Japan, it’s snowing. He stands on the boulder-strewn shore as snowflakes fly down from the sky, a flurry that obscures the dark sea before him.

His breaths leave plumes of vapor in the air. He takes a step, then another, moving quickly from one stone to another, climbing across the expanse of the shore. He picks a path along the rocks, refusing the fly, concentrating on maintaining his balance as icy bits of snow score his cheeks with their chill.

The roiling sky is the color of slate, a dark gray-blue. The waves slam against the rocks around him, their white plumes misting up into the air. The taste of salt in the air, the strong smell of the sea – it’s all very wonderful to Sato.

Sato’s mind is a blank, because he wills it so. Otherwise, he might think of his lovely Tatsumi, whom he hears is back in Tokyo with a new partner. It takes every last bit of effort to will himself not to fly off to Tokyo and find Tatsumi.

Sato wonders if he’s allowed to change his decision and come out of retirement. If he can, maybe he’ll arrange an accident for this new partner. He’d like his Tatsumi back.

He pushes the thought from his mind as he moves along the rocks. It’s a pretty idea, but he won’t bother Tatsumi ever again.

Tatsumi deserves better, after all.

Sato stops, perched precariously on a large rock, and raises his hand.

Before his outstretched hand, the snowflakes pause and then coalesce, swirling into a miniature storm over his palm, each individual shadow completely under his control. It begins rotating faster and faster, making his dark hair whip around him. Finally, it reaches an almost dangerous climax – the snowflakes are moving so fast that they’ve become sharp enough to cut. Sato smiles and with a flick of his hand, lets go his hold on the shadows. The snowflakes fall gently to the ground, melting into the seawater.

It’s such a beautiful day today. Sato smiles at the stormy sky as he continues his way along the path of stones.