La Speranza Ultima

III. The Death of Music

Iruka stared at the box before him, wide-eyed at the thought of anyone giving him a present for his birthday. He couldn’t even remember when his birthday was anymore, but it was still a shock, even after Sarutobi had celebrated his birthday since he had been found. Iruka looked up at the elderly man and gave a hesitant smile before he opened the box, revealing a dark red silk kimono, unpatterned but still just as beautiful.

Sarutobi patted Iruka’s shoulder, smiling at the sixteen-year-old. “It used to belong to a friend of mine, but I think it’s better suited for you, Iruka,”

The boy could think of nothing to say and instead bowed his head, trying not to cry. Sarutobi could only smile as Iruka turned and hugged him, as much a thank you as the old man would get from him. Sarutobi finally stepped back when Iruka let go, watching the boy pull the kimono from the box and try it on. Sarutobi let yet another smile show, recognizing the beauty of Iruka, knowing that the boy would have great things ahead of him.

He paused then, hearing the music on the wind. Iruka heard it too, and the kimono was pulled off, folded reverently and placed back in its box before Iruka bolted from Sarutobi’s house and out of the village into the woods. Sarutobi watched him go, smiling as Iruka disappeared into the trees, following that music as he had done every day since it began to appear. Sarutobi shook his head and moved to return inside to father up Iruka’s gift. He paused though, at a shout from one of his neighbours, eyes growing wide at the sight of hunters trampling through the village, weapons drawn and ready. They passed him without a glance and vanished into the trees, in the same direction Iruka had just run.

When the emerald leaves turned brown against the heat of the roaring fire, Sarutobi could only pray for Iruka’s safety as he and the other villagers in Konoha rushed to protect their small community.

Iruka had followed the music as far as he could before everything went silent, giving the boy a sense of wrongness. Had he gone too far? Iruka looked around, confused, out in the open and vulnerable. Instinctively he crouched and crept into the cover of low bushes, doe brown eyes growing wide at the sight of men on horseback and on foot, shivering as memories he hoped to forget came bubbling up again. They were hunters, demon hunters, and they were here again. One struck steel and flint together, the sparks fanned into flames, and the forest was soon on fire. Iruka felt tears pricking his eyes and fought not to make any noise. The hunters laughed and joked around as the flames grew, and Iruka stayed where he was, hidden, frozen.

The music began again and the hunters disappeared.

Iruka crept from his hiding place and stared at the destruction being wrought. The music kept playing, as if in defiance to the fire and the hunters, and Iruka followed it, hopeless as it was. He felt the forest come to life around him, and though he couldn’t see anything alive, he knew everything was fleeing like he should be. He refused to run, not now, crying out as the burning branches came down around him. The sixteen-year-old bolted then, running for his life, not watching where he put his feet. His sandal caught a tree root, his world up-ended as he flew head over heels into a deep pool of murky water. He came up, gasping for air and scrabbling for purchase on the sandy floor. How wide his eyes became then, seeing the music-maker, a unearthly beautiful man with deep black eyes so full of fire, a koto in his hands, playing idly as though the forest wasn’t burning around him. Nine tails curled around him, each twitching in time to the music, even as those dark eyes stared at him. Iruka swallowed and lowered his eyes, earning a barking laugh.

“Get out, little one. Get out and run, for they are coming.” The kitsune smiled even as Iruka did as he was told, though he protested leaving. “There’s nothing you can do. Run now, little one.”

Somehow, Iruka did run, but he turned back, staring as the hunters surrounded the koto-playing man. Weapons slammed into that vulnerable body, but he kept playing, smiling right at Iruka, still telling him to run. And then the human visage fell away, a monstrous fox demon snarling and snapping at the humans even as his lifeblood splattered the earth below him. Iruka watched it all, staring as tears fell down his face, mourning the kitsune’s impending death. The kitsune howled, flames the hunters had set swirling in around the demon, around the few hunters left alive, around Iruka, creating one giant fireball. That ball exploded, sending trees – and the humans – flying, uprooted by the force of the magic. Iruka slammed hard into the earth and rolled, managing somehow to get to his knees, staring dazedly around, focusing on the fox demon that lay amidst the destruction, quietly breathing.

Those dark eyes fell on Iruka, the fox demon giving the brunette a grin not meant for a human face. He was alive, barely, and as he struggled to his feet, Kyuubi saw his death reflected in Iruka’s pretty brown eyes. The fox demon let his human form fade to shield Iruka from the hunter’s view, to protect the child who had wandered his forest listening to his music, and Kyuubi let out one final howl before the sword found his throat, taking the foolish hunter with him to the Underworld. Kyuubi watched Iruka begin to cry and only smiled, and with his last few precious moments of life bade Iruka to flee, finally getting the boy to run back to the safety of Konoha.

When the rest of the hunters came upon the scene of death, only the bodies of their comrades were strewn about, Kyuubi’s form already a part of the earth. The only sign of his passing was the stain of blood on the earth, a stain that would never leave, no matter how many times the hunters tossed dirt over the mess. For remembrance, that stain was, and for the young demon who stood in the shadows watching, a reminder.