White garments cloak Himari.
His skin smells of herbs.
Mint.
Rosemary.
And another, Himari doesn't seem to remember.
His golden curls were voluminous. Glowing as they once did. Bright like the sun god's tresses.
His lips painted rosy.
His round eyes held anger, suppressed in the crevasses of his soul.
A village tradition birthed long ago.
Imperial soldiers garnered slaves amongst peasants.
The Deyama, a family of workers, had caught the attention of beasts.
Shrill cries of horror were bestowed by the women.
The men tried their best to resist.
From the heavens was sent a protector.
A guardian cloaked in white.
Soft furs and piercing fangs.
A large wolf stood in front of the Deyamas.
With a heavy flick of its paw, the imperial soldiers were no more.
In gratitude, the Deyama bloodline offers one of their offspring to the god who saved them.
First as wives and husbands.
Now turned into feasts and bountiful meals according to the festering moon.
Himari was a feast for the wolf.
The wolf.
Mamoru.
His name rings beautifully. Like a thousand little bells.
It rolls off of Himari's tongue awfully well.
It leaves Himari blushing, thinking back on the lessons the temple officials blessed him with.
Cooking, cleaning, standing in the presence of such divinity.
Sodomy.
Submissiveness.
Death.
The temple officials taught Himari to be submissive, even in dying.
This notion angered Himari.
So he decided to kill the wolf before he could take Himari into his maw.
A silver dagger hidden in Himari's sleeve.
None of the temple officials noticed. They were too busy with today's festivities.
A festival of lights and sounds.
Children ran amuck.
Desserts and haunting smells. Delectable in every way.
A festival Himari was forbidden to go to.
Himari dreamt of attending, ever since he was a child.
The opportunity was taken away by his runaway cousin and the troublesome mysterious woman.