Story [Princess Mononoke] "Offering" [Ashi-taka introspection, oneshot]

Title: Offering
Genre: Introspection, oneshot
Summary: Ashi-taka remembers and reflects after being severely wounded in Iron Town.

edit: Have to put a dash in the name ''A s h i t a k a'' because of the auto-filtering...

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Ashi-taka had all but passed out. He'd barely felt himself being moved. The towering treetops, the lumped white bodies of the Kodama, the pale red-painted face of San, all had blurred before him and now he could barely manage to open his eyes, drained and pained as he was, after so much had been seen and done --

Iron Town, the villagers, demonic strength manifested, a snakelike aura in his arm urging him to--

Eboshi. San. Anger, the wave of fury and the streaming of knives --

-- being shot, the strain on his body ushering the blood from his wound -- the wolves and Yakul --

The adrenaline of it all had all rushed freely in him, numbing him from all consequence for a time... but then the pain came and drove itself in and the deific zeal was spent. Now he felt the iron bullet that sat in his chest, its searing path having torn his insides, still burning white-hot.

How long it took to move him he did not know... but now... now he felt he was safe. He could rest.

He peeked slightly under his heavy lids and saw greyish darkness overhead, dragonflies gliding, their iridescent tails flickering in the dimness. The highest trees loomed. He was looking up into the heights of the ancient forest. San had taken him here...

His own people shot him. He's dying.

He remembered her saying that. Yelling at him about stopping her from killing Eboshi. Threatening to kill him, a dagger millimeters away from slicing his throat. Barely conscious, he'd used his remaining strength to open his eyes and to tell her she was beautiful. He'd been too weak to see or hear her reaction.

How long ago had that been? Minutes, hours? All he knew was she had brought him here, had helped him, and his throat was yet unslit.

Ugh. I smell like a human.

He heard that, and wanted to smile. She still hated him, probably. Yet here he was.

San was watched him as he lay there. She had brought him to the small sacred patch of land in the middle of the pool, lay his head against the emerald grass, cut the stem of a cedar plant and thrust into the ground near his head. It stood as an offering. A question to one who could grant life or take it away.

Ashi-taka hoped San would stay and watch over him. Watch him become healed and whole again... or watch him die.

As he wondered which she would truly hoped for, his heart stung.

Dark water immersed him from the chest down, slightly easing the gunshot wound. His head pounded and his chest was afire, the pain steeped, almost nulling his senses. Only one sensation remained that refused to be quelled even by the pain of a shot body.

His arm. It pulsed steadily as a heartbeat. The pain it usually bore was beyond anything dealt by man, but now no pain came from it, only a sickening readiness to kill, a desire that was still persisting.

He remembered Jigo brushing it off, smiling about it like it was the subject of casual chat with a neighbor. So you say you're under a curse. Well, so what. So's the whole damn world.

Now even as he sat immersed in these sacred waters, in the very heart of the forest where the Great Forest Spirit frequented, where he stood the best chance to be saved... Ashi-taka was filled with self-loathing. He felt drawn towards death. For himself, for others. It seemed... unjust... for him to live, knowing so many had died. Knowing what had become of Nago. Also shot by an iron bullet... That a manmade invention had pierced that magnificent proud boar-god, had driven him mad... and his wrath had then infected him... A man should not have more chance to survive than a god...

San was still near, he felt.

Ashi-taka felt death near her too... but he could not reserve himself to it, like Moro had, however much San roared with self-sacrificial purpose. He would only accept her death when it happened. His own, he had already accepted the moment the Amishi Elder had read his future.

But acceptance did not mean giving up. And self-loathing... what would that lead him to? Nago had let the misery of his wound and his wrath feed each other until they beget a demon from his flesh. Ashi-taka was not above bloodlust and revenge; he had wanted to cut Eboshi in half, had slain many Samurai and wished to slay more...

But still he wanted to live. Not to stay whole enough to carry his vengeance further, not to relish killing again. To live, to have San live. For them both to be unwavering in that one desire and not throw themselves into the pit of warring powers, of iron and steel against nature and gods, humans against animals, hate against hate.

The forest was so quiet. Or perhaps he could barely take in sound. Not even the hissing of the dragonflies was resonating, and no longer could he hear the Kodama children rattling in the trees. He was drifting away again.

When the Forest Spirit did arrive, he had blacked out. But he dreamed of a creature, radiant and light as gold, that bloomed flowers wherever it stepped. With a manlike face that rest on the body of a buck deer, and large human red eyes, and a thick maned neck that stretched down to the cedar plant and blew on it an untouchable kiss.

Ashi-taka couldn't feel its leaves fall on his face, shriveled and dead. The strange creature transforming, and tending to his wound, sapping the ball of iron and the blood away.

When Ashi-taka awoke his whole body was dry and on a mound of land. All he saw was the surrounding trees It was a bright, blue-skied morning.

He felt a mesmerizing ease, felt more able to breathe, to move... He felt for the wounded spot in his chest... his fingers touched sealed skin.

"The bullet wound is gone!"

Ashi-taka breathed out, his chest welling with relief, his neck feeling sore from the lushness of the very air he inhaled, and he prayed his thanks to the forest god. He started to rise, but then winced, still felt a twinge of pain, and he lay his head back.

He felt a soft nudge on the chest of his tunic. A white-and-red muzzle inched close to him. Ashi-taka smiled.

"Yakul." He lifted his arm and patted over his steed's face. But as he did so, he saw under his palm-gloved hand, still tarnished into his skin...

He gasped, "The marks are still there..."

He stared at them. Like poisonous impressions left by something black and serpentine, the remnants of Nago's hate were still there. And they had spread further. The Forest Spirit had spared him, but had not lifted the curse.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he lay his head back down, exhausted and forlorn while Yakul chewed on his hair.

He heard soft footsteps in the grass.

"Finally, you're awake," said San. "You know you really should thank Yakul. He hasn't left your side this whole time."

Ashi-taka faintly opened his eyes. So many things he wanted to say, but all that came out was: "How'd you know... his name's Yakul?"

"He told me." She smiled as she pet the elk. "And he told me about you, about your village, your people, and your forest. The Forest Spirit brought you back to life again. He wants you to live."

Ashi-taka wanted to groan aloud. Great Spirit of the Forest... why heal me only to let a deadly curse befall me?

He had to accept it, it was the decision of a god... but the curse would claim him sooner rather than later, at the rate it was spreading... whether he died leaving behind a human corpse or a demon's diseased remains, he, Ashi-taka, would be gone...

Deciding to change the subject of his mortality, he said, "I had the strangest dream. There was a... golden creature..."

Had it been a dream? No, the wound was gone, he remembered the wonderful, eerie power of it... not too unlike the power that had flowed through him when his arm had pulsed so violently in Iron Town, the sudden surge of strength that let him move the gate that normally took ten men to open... No matter how many people had tried to stop him, he had moved it, he had gotten him and San out...

And in that instant Ashi-taka understood. In a war between gods and gunwielders... where he was the only person who wanted the forests saved, the townspeople unharmed, the killing to end... the only one who was determined to save San... it was him. His role in it may be big or small, but it was unique and it had purpose enough to fulfill his heart and his honor. The Forest Spirit had known what he was doing.

Eboshi, Jigo, the townspeople, the gods, the forest-dwellers. San. Death awaited them all, human or god, no matter what. But so did life.

"Here," San said, kneeling beside him. She put a strip of meat to his lips. "Eat this."

He tried to; he parted his mouth slightly... it was no use. The muscles in his jaw were numb. He was too weak to chew. That attempt to rise must have spent what little energy he'd had.

So San did it for him. The wolf princess who had held a dagger at his throat now chewed tough pieces of meat into a mash and fed it to him mouth to mouth. Tears sprang to Ashi-taka's eyes.

San would nurture him back to health. He would walk and talk, and fight again. He was alive. She was alive.

There's still hope, San. To uncloud both our eyes.


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I liked the epiphany about the Forest Spirit and also the tender caring of San; also, LOL at auto-filtering ...