Cold-Blooded: A DC Universe Fanfiction (#Wattys2015)

Chapter 51: Yukie, Slade: Black as Ebony

A/N: I made certain changes and edits to chapter 50 because I realized it would work better that way. They are substantial enough that you should go back and reread it. I apologize-I don't like to make significant changes after a chapter has been posted, but this time I believe it called for it.

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Without a heart, mortal or immortal, Yukie could not become fully human. Without a heart, she could not live in the human world, disguised or not. Her heart was missing because the yuki-onna had ripped it out. Now she meant to return the favor.

Certain stories, the fairy tales which are at the heart of the human psyche, have been told and retold so often that where they came from has been forgotten completely. They change to fit the country or the village where the storyteller lives. People may stumble over the tale of Cinderella in a collection of Asian tales and think , 'Oh, they must have gotten that from some European traveler.', when in fact it is the other way around. Her slippers were not glass, in the old tales; they were fur. It was the French who caused that confusion, when someone mistook 'vair', fur, for 'verre', glass.

Forget about the Brothers Grimm, Charles Perrault and Madame d'Aulnoy-they were simply the first ones to write the stories down and have them printed. The tales came into being millennia before.

Most tales change the description of the princess to match the local standards of beauty. So in one place, the princess may have golden hair and in another, brown or red. Except for one. In one fairy tale, the princess is always described the same way. Always. That particular story begins:

'Once upon a time, a queen who was with child sat at her window with her sewing in her lap, watching the snowflakes drift down like feathers. While she was watching the snow, she jabbed her finger with the needle, drawing blood. The blood stained the white cloth she was working on, and seeing how beautiful the red looked against the white, and both against the black wood of the window frame, she said, "How I wish that my daughter would have skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony."'

And in that tale, there is always an evil queen who calls for the heart of the young princess. What was forgotten is why.

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Her father watched as Raven's news dampened Rose's elation, but his daughter staunchly announced, "We'll be there to help her, though. She won't have to do it alone."

"I guess not-but wait a minute. About this yokai thing-is she not a normal human? And did you know?" Raven asked.

"I knew," Deathstroke replied. "The night we met, Yukie tested as 'Not Nonhuman.' Now we know what that meant; she had no idea at the time." His manner deflected any further attempt to draw him out.

"So anyway, you know something about this Snowy-yuki-onny-elemental business. What exactly are we looking at?" Cyborg asked Rose. "And what's a yokai?"

"I've read three books about yokai," she replied, and her father tuned them out.

He sat there among the children and listened to their chatter without hearing it. Yukie, missing, Yukie lost to him, dead, dying... Part of him did not care at all, and that was the part which usually ruled his actions and decisions.

He'd gotten what he wanted out of the relationship-Rose had agreed to come back and train with him again, even without Yukie, and he in turn had learned how to relate to his daughter better. Insofar as his goal was concerned, he didn't need Yukie anymore. That was the part of him which could calculate the exact angle for a head shot without thinking about it, the part which automatically looked for attackers whenever he entered a room, even in his own house.