CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Thalia’s first glimpse of this family’s tragic past began with the patriarch’s departure for the war frontier. He had been married five years before his wife conceived a child at last. A healthy son was born to them, though his wife never fully recovered her health, and could have no more children. When his son was four years old, the invaders had arrived near Edo, and the war began. He went to the front full of zeal to protect his family and his country.

He returned from that war disillusioned with horror, only to find that his wife was dead and his home had been razed in a skirmish. There was news of his son, but it took seven long months to find the child in a neighboring city.

The boy had grown strong, but embittered by his early trauma, which was unwittingly reinforced by the conversations he overheard between his father and fellow veterans of the war. They spoke their pain, fear, and bitterness more freely at private gatherings as their drunkenness increased, and while it might have helped soothe their own psychological wounds, it deepened those of their young listener. The young mind became obsessed with ridding the nation and the world of the invaders, and eventually the boy joined a local branch of self-proclaimed 'patriots' who had been named terrorists by the government.

He did not marry, but impregnated a prostitute from the bowels of the city, who left her child, a son, at his doorstep with a note entrusting the boy to his father’s care.

It was the grandfather who raised the boy; the father was busy fighting his zealot’s war against the invaders and the government who had allowed them in. His hatred for those enemies blinded him to the corruption within his own group, as so often happens; the leader was a man of great charisma and intelligence who embraced any means necessary to promote himself. The cause was merely a convenient tool by which he gained followers.

This leader was a hypocrite, who unbeknownst to his followers often did business transactions with the criminal elements among the invaders. They hired his group of ‘Patriots’ to fight the governmental factions that sought to protect the citizens; it was this that brought them into direct conflict, finally, with the Shinsengumi.

For this family, it was an ill-fated meeting; the group fought the second squad of the Shinsengumi all-out, and in the midst of the fighting, Harada parried a blow and returned a deadly one, killing the son of the war veteran. Harada later realized that this man’s family was from the same village in which he had grown up.

There was too much blood on his hands to lose sleep over one more death, he had told himself. Nonetheless, he visited the old man, now the sole caretaker of his grandson, who was by this time ten years old. They lived in a hut on the outskirts of their post-war hometown. Tetsuya knew what reception to expect, but could not ignore his conscience.

The old man answered his knock, and after an initial shock, his face reddened with rage. “Murderer!” he cried out. “Why were you not born dead, cursed one?”

“Enough,” Tetsuya said sternly. “I have no wish to see you or the child suffer. Since I took your son’s life, I bear his responsibility to you. Please accept this.” With that, he gave the elder a leather purse holding enough of the new paper currency to support them both for a month. “There will be more.”

The elder threw it back at him. “I won’t touch your government trash, nor would I accept anything from a demon. Ballistic Bastard, you haven’t changed – always seeking trouble, always fighting everyone – anyone close to you suffers without end!”

Harada knew there was nothing he could say to calm the elderly man. He shrugged and departed, leaving the purse on the ground where it had fallen. The child crept out several minutes later, furtive, and snatched it. He bought food with it for himself and his grandfather, who pretended not to know where it came from.

In his bitterness, the old man sent a message to the corrupt leader of his dead son’s terrorist group, denouncing them for failing to provide for the families of their deceased members, who must rely instead on the bloodstained generosity of government dogs.

Two nights later, the old man was found dead in his hut; there was no sign of the child, who had been taken by the group.

Six years later, the boy was a young criminal full of bloodlust. In another skirmish with the Shinsengumi, he threw himself at Harada, who disarmed him; but when the boy saw he was outnumbered and about to be arrested by his most hated foe, he drew three kunai from an inner pocket; two of them he threw at the Vice-Chief, while the other he used to cut his own throat. One of the kunai struck Harada’s chest; the other grazed his scalp. He was covered that day in his own blood as well as the boy’s; the stain of it never left his memory.

“Speak true now, Goddess,” demanded the one Harada had called ‘Sensei’. “Everyone here has a similar tale of this man, this boy whose nature it is to wound whatever he touches. Even you are bleeding from his touch. You dare not withhold judgment.”

A chorus of agreement rose throughout the room. She lifted her eyes; the silvery stars in her sea-blue irises chilled to crystalline shards, freezing the blood of those she beheld. She straightened; despite her petite stature, she seemed suddenly tall.

“This is the will of everyone present?” she asked in a crisp, clear voice. “That I pass judgment and sentence this man for his blood-guilt?”

Another chorus of agreement met this, and in spite of the pain racking his body, in spite of the humiliation, in spite of the horror of this moment, Tetsuya was glad they had brought him to her. It was better for her to know what he was, so she would understand why she should not love him, should not dirty herself by standing too near him.

But she knelt again, cradling him against her body, ignoring his resistance and distress over the blood staining her porcelain skin where she was pierced, and looked at him tenderly. That hurt him more than all the hatred; he flinched at the love in her face. “Is it your will also?” she asked.

“Yes,” he told her with conviction. “You must do this for your own protection.” He referred to the hostile crowd, who would rise against her if she refused, but also to her heart. He was certain she would be unable to stomach him when she really looked at his guilt; she would withdraw of her own volition, and no longer spend her love on the undeserving.

“Why do you consult the guilty?” one of the guards demanded. “Fulfill your function! Bring justice!”

The crowd erupted into angry agreement, and she stood again to face them. Her eyes flashed blue lightning. “Very well,” she said.

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The two guards who had brought Tetsuya in and thrown him at her feet stepped forward, first lifting him away from her, then forcing him instead to his knees in front of her.

Fully infuriated, she raised her voice to a thunderous crescendo. “No one will touch him without my permission,” she commanded, her eyes glowing red with rage. "You have given him over for judgment, forfeiting his life to me. Anyone who wishes to rob me of my prey must submit to my judgment likewise." She waited a few moments for silence, then turned back to the three in front of her, gentleness returning to her face and voice.

“I see why you’ve brought this grievance,” she said. “Let me ask you this, Ojii-san; had you been in the Vice-Chief’s place, what would you have done differently?”

“My son’s blood is on his hands! My son was deceived by a bad leader, but he was loyal to this country and his family in the best ways he could be. He did not deserve to die for fighting for what he believed in.”

“No, perhaps not,” Thalia agreed, “but is that not so also for Harada-san?”

“He is no patriot,” the old man snarled. “He serves the government that let the invaders destroy us.”

“I understand why you say this; but is it not possible that the Shinsengumi – your countrymen – are also fighting for what they believe in? Is it not possible they believe it’s best to protect the people by trying to keep the peace the government has made, however flawed it is? They do not always agree with the government any more than you do; but can’t you see that they, too, act in the way that seems best to them?”

There was silence. The old man looked startled, uncertain. When he answered, it was with a far softer tone than he had yet used. “But his hands have blood on them that should not have been shed,” he protested.

“Assuming that’s true, can you say otherwise?” Thalia asked.

The old man had been a warrior, and in the village it was well-known that he never forgave himself for the accidental slaughter of his own comrade in the heat of battle. Thalia waited until she saw understanding on his lined face. He bowed toward her.

“It’s reality that we live in a deadly world,” Thalia said, addressing the whole room. “None that live can escape death; every creature alive can *only* stay alive by killing other living things to sustain itself. All living things are killers stained with blood, be they plants or animals, warriors or priests. What matters is to discern whether there is honor in our hearts. Only that will prevent the death we bring from being unjustified and meriting punishment. But to suggest that ‘higher classes’ are innocent, while warriors are less worthy in the eyes of the gods, is nothing but bald, outrageous hypocrisy,” she said, her eyes flashing red fire once more at the unworthy sensei.

She turned to the two guards and pointed at them, her sleeves falling back to reveal arms punctuated by drops of blood. “You will face me next,” she said, her voice taking on scintillating harmonics like shards of glass. “Both of you, so eager to humiliate one who is unable to defend himself.” Harada knew their eyeless faces; these were the brigands whose faces he’d slashed in his first blood fury as a child.

“We are not the ones to be judged,” said one of them defiantly.

Thalia slapped him hard, sending him reeling. “Fool! When you attempt to force the hand of a goddess of justice, you make damn sure you’re ready to be judged yourself before you face her.” She looked coldly from one to the other. “Thieves turned brigands, slashers of throats and burners of villages. You spent your lives as mercenaries, performing any crime you were paid well for. Betrayers, who double-crossed employers if offered a better price by their enemy.”

The one she had not slapped interrupted. “That demon in the form of a child attacked us, slashing out our eyes, dooming us to wander as blind beggars for what was left of our lives!”

“Am I meant to pity you?” she asked, her voice like a burning iron poker. “You were paid to kill an innocent child; when his brother intervened, you blinded him. The child avenged his brother, never even thinking of himself.”

She drew herself up, and Tetsuya could swear she was at least two feet taller than usual. “My mother Goddess spoke through that child to give you a warning you failed to heed. Now I pronounce you guilty, worthy of punishment even beyond the grave.” Her eyes went black for a moment. The blind mercenaries began to scream, flames erupting from their skin, burning until nothing remained but ashes.

She confronted the crowd while the bodies burned, their screams still echoing in the chamber.

“Who else?” she demanded. “You were all so eager to accuse this man. Step forth and face the same judge you delivered him to, or give up your claims. Understand that if you choose to face me, I will weigh your deeds with those of the accused.”

One by one, the figures faded, melting into the surrounding darkness almost as soon as Thalia’s sharp bright gaze fell upon them.

Some stepped forward, and she heard them patiently; most had died when they met Tetsuya in battle, and she rebuked them for holding a grudge when it had been their own choices that ended their lives; she refused to punish Tetsuya for doing what he saw as his duty to protect Edo’s people by keeping order, violently when needed.

She did not punish anyone else as she had the two guards, whose crimes had been by far the most hideous. She also knew how great their significance was in Harada’s psyche; with their mutilations his condemnation had begun – first from others, and eventually from himself most of all.

The only other one she punished was, in fact, the former Sensei. His deeds were exposed as full of baseless prejudice, hateful malice, spite proceeding from a heart devoid of true honor.

He resisted her judgment, protesting that all he had done was to make his student a strong warrior; strength was built in bastards like him only by pain and the awareness of his own inferior place in the world.

Thalia stood even taller, her eyes gleaming white-hot. When she spoke it was in a low, menacing voice. “It was you, was it not, who first bound him with these vines when he was too young to even understand why?” she asked.

The elder trembled, silenced before her rage. The damage had not been done by any one person; all of Harada’s family – with the exception of his brother – and most of the village took part in despising him as he grew older and began to frighten them. However, it had indeed been Sensei who first called him Berserker Bastard, the Demon Child. It was also true that he had used thorny vines to punish the child on certain occasions by whipping him with them, or wrapping them around him like ropes.

Harada himself had reinforced all this in his mind as he grew, but his self-perception had been poisoned from the beginning by one hateful old man.

Thalia drew herself up and hissed: “If I must suffer one more word from your putrid lips, old cockroach, I will take those thorns from him and bind you with them instead. Spend your remaining worthless days trying to free yourself, if you like. Or do you lack the strength to face the punishment you dealt out to a helpless child?” This threat cowed him at last; he dared speak no further word.

Thalia sent him forth stripped of his robes, wearing nothing but a loincloth, out of the hall. This humiliation would brand itself over his memory, she knew, and Tetsuya would no longer be so haunted by his influence.

At last, only two shadowy figures remained as accusers. Tetsuya squinted, trying to make them out; they seemed so familiar. It was a man with a little boy.

“Come,” Thalia bade them in a gentle voice. Harada gasped when they stepped into the light, knowing them at last. They approached, the man looking down at him with dead eyes, the boy tearful. Thalia reached for the boy’s hand, taking it in hers.

“Sweet child, what has this man done to you?” she asked, tucking his hair behind his ear with her free hand.

“He hates me because of what other people told him,” the boy whispered, choking on tears. “He thinks I’m a demon, that I never deserved love, and never will. But I’m not a demon, I promise! I was only doing my best.”

“This is a grave sin indeed,” Thalia said, and turned her gaze, for the first time with accusation in it, back to Tetsuya.

“What? … But …” he said, bewildered.

“You do not yet see? Then wait,” she said, and turned back toward the man who had accompanied the boy. “You, sir, what grievance have you against Harada Tetsuya?”

This man looked up then, meeting Tetsuya’s eyes with his own. “He has always wanted to kill me. He will not accept that our paths lie together, that our paths are one path. Since he cannot kill me, he keeps me locked away, robbing my existence of joy or love.”

“This, too, is a grave offense. And what would you have me do with him?” Thalia asked them both.

“Make him not hate me anymore,” the little boy said, and cried against her shoulder. Tetsuya thought of little Daishiro, how she had held him in this same way, her hand cupping the back of his head like an infant’s.

“I would have him learn to walk with me; to stop fighting and imprisoning me,” said the man while the child was sobbing. Still in a daze of astonishment, Tetsuya met the other man’s twilight eyes: it was himself he beheld; his alter ego, the part of him that wanted to love and laugh, without shame or guilt or pride to hold him back.

He knew the child as well, of course. That was the demon child, the cursed spawn of weakness who had grown up treated harshly by all whom he met, but most harshly of all by himself; the one who grew up to become the Demon Vice-Commander of the Shinsengumi.

Thalia stood. “These sound like just and reasonable requests,” she said. “I will speak with him on your behalf.” When she said this, the man’s face lit up with hope, and the child threw his little arms around her waist.

“Thank you,” the man said to her, and reached for her hand. “May I?” he asked. She smiled radiantly and gave him her hand, which he lifted to his lips. He kissed the three small wounds from thorns that were on her fingers. “You know how I love you,” he breathed then, and both he and the boy faded not into darkness, but into the radiance that surrounded her.