lacewood: (she walks in shadow)
Pei Yi ([personal profile] lacewood) wrote in [community profile] toxicskyremix2004-05-15 10:46 pm

shaman king - matamune

For [livejournal.com profile] asakurahao

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Under his watchful gaze, the servants carefully lowered the tiny coffin into the hole; filling it with dirt until the grave was just a bare hump of earth. At his nod, they left, thankful to finally be able to get out of the winter cold (grumbling, where they thouht he couldn't hear them, about the fuss he was making over a dead cat).

Hao barely watched them leave, only waited long enough until he was sure he was alone. He stared down at the unmarked grave.

Death.

His breath came out as a pale mist in the icy air, a silent whisper, and then he was there, his spirit shining pale and translucent in the early morning light.

Matamune crossed the hard, frozen ground to rub, purring, against the hem of his robes, and it felt like he'd never left - his presence was so strong. Hao let out a breath; it sounded like a sigh. "I've missed you, my friend."

The cat gave a chuckling purr and he laughed. "And it's been less than a day, too."

He offered a hand and Matamune leaped lightly into his arms - the spirit too insubstantial to be a weight, but he cradled him arm around the shape and the cat curled against him, his spirit a warm comfort in his mind.

His free hand reached into the depths of a sleeve to draw a necklace, leather and black stones like fangs, out. It swung from his hand with a faint click of stone against stone while he held it out for Matamune to see. It looked rough and plain, really, but he did not think the cat would like gaudy jewels any more than he would.

"It's not much, is it?" He said and chuckled as the spirit gave him a disapproving stare. It leaped out of his arms - then turned, waiting. Kneeling, he let the necklace fall so that it seemed to hang around Matamune's neck

A breath, and he released it, so that it swung wildly as the cat stretched, long and lazily. Looked up and smiled, baring small, sharp teeth.

Carefully, Matamune crouched and, to Hao's surprise, stood back on his hind legs - an Oversoul's form was shaped by the shaman would made it, but Matamune seemed to be bending his form around his own will - Hao had not thought he could take such a human shape so quickly.

He yawned, widely, and and looked up at the onmyouji. The sound he made, then, was half pur, half voice.

"Haaaaaooooo."



The winter night was cold around him, despite the heat of the fire he sat by and the Spirit of Fire beside him. Tilting his head back, Hao looked up at the sky, cloudless and black.

A shaman places a part of himself into every Oversoul he makes - the stronger the oversoul, the stronger the bond. Faint, but clear, Hao felt a remnant of power return to him from a very, very old oversoul.

Matamune.

"What have you done?" He wondered out loud. There was no answer - the Spirit of Fire wasn't much for conversation and up in these mountains, who else could he talk to? "I guess this means you won't be facing me this time, then." He murmured and almost smiled.

Around him, the night grew ever colder.

end

September 2003