by Sarah Ash
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Mai!” Sakami’s blissful reverie shattered. “Up to no good with Honou? Are you crazy?”
“Anyone mention my name?” Honou stuck his bright head around the kitchen doorway and Mai squealed.
“No time for idle chatter, girls!” Yuna appeared, followed by Mami, staggering under the weight of a bundle of naginata. “We’re at war, or had you forgotten?”
Mami let the weapons drop with a metallic clatter that echoed around the kitchen.
“Careless child!” Yuna slapped her. “You’ll damage the blades. I had to haggle a long time with the clan armorer to get those for us. He’ll be enjoying extra rice for the next week.”
“For us?” Mai picked one up and looked warily at the sharp blade.
“So if the Kites break in, you’re going to defend yourself with a soup ladle?”
“I’m quite handy with a chopping knife, Yuna.” Mai tried a jab with the naginata in Mami’s direction.
“Look out!” Mami was still sulking after being slapped.
“Every morning and afternoon, we’re going to have naginata practice in the yard.” Yuna took up a naginata and, with a flourish, demonstrated a lunge in Mai’s direction.
“You’re good, Yuna,” Sakami said admiringly as Mai leapt hastily out of the way.
“Don’t think that flattering me will let you off, Sakami.” Yuna presented her with the naginata. “Go and round up the other kitchen girls.”
“But I have to go to the shrine – ” Sakami began, realizing too late that she had forgotten to take some tofu for the guardian foxes: their favorite treat.
“That can wait,” said Yuna. “Naginata drill starts in the kitchen yard as soon as you get back. The sooner you go, the sooner we can get started.”
Honou was lounging outside the kitchen door, his arms crossed. As Sakami jogged out, he gave her a lazy, lustful smile. “Lots of girls exercising together? I’m really looking forward to watching this.”
***
Princess Asagao employed an elderly priest to look after the castle’s Inari shrine; he could often be seen shuffling around with his broom, slowly and fastidiously sweeping the entrance clean.
“And there he is again today,” Sakami said to Honou. “How shall I introduce you to him?” She couldn’t resist the desire to tease him. “Honou, my cousin, or Honou the fox?”
Honou scowled. “Don’t say anything.”
“Good afternoon!” Sakami greeted the priest, who peered at them in the strong sunshine. “We’ve come to make an offering to Lady Inari for my brother’s recovery.”
“Come in, come in. There’s no one here but me.”
They passed beneath the scarlet torii and approached the two guardian statues. Honou eyed the foxes with suspicion as Sakami placed the fried tofu she had brought at their feet. She saw the pink tip of his tongue appear and lick his lips longingly.
“Sweeping must be thirsty work in this heat,” she said. “I’ve brought you some cold tea, Father, and one of Yuna’s bean paste buns.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, my dear.” The priest’s face crinkled into a smile as he took the bowl and the bun. “Go on into the shrine; I’ll enjoy these in the shade out here.”
It was dark inside the shrine and the air was heavily spiced by the incense smoke rising from the altar. When Sakami’s eyes had adjusted to the dim light, she saw that she was not the only one to have brought offerings to the goddess.
“Where’s my tofu?” hissed Honou.
“Such a greedy little fox.” A woman appeared in the gloom beside them and tapped Honou sharply on the nose with her fan.
Honou yelped.
“And I’m disappointed in you, Sakami.” The goddess slipped one slender finger beneath Sakami’s chin, tipping it up so that she could look into her eyes. Sakami blinked, unable to sustain the penetrating gaze for long. “You’ve been with that Tide Dragon boy again. I warned you to stay away from him, didn’t I?” Slender fingers plucked the tortoiseshell comb from her hair and held it up in front of her.
Did Inari know everything? Sakami hastily took back the comb and placed it on the altar. “But he healed my brother, my lady.” The thought that Inari had been watching her every move was disconcerting. “He’s shown me nothing but kindness.”
“I’m only trying to save you from having your heart broken, child. His fate is ruled by the Tide Dragons…and everything they touch is tainted by death.”
Inari’s words sent a chill through Sakami’s body but she did not dare to ask the goddess what she meant. Instead, she stammered out, “The night of the fire at Sakuranbo village. What really happened, my lady? Why was your shrine destroyed? Was it something to do with Kurika?”
“Why do you want to know?” Inari’s beautiful face had become as expressionless as an actor’s white-painted mask.
“Because – because I want to know why my father died. What was he protecting?”
Inari said nothing for a moment and Sakami feared that she had offended her. Then the goddess began to speak, her voice low and intense.
“I was tricked. Lured away from Mount Sakuranbo to the rice fields on the plain below. It wasn’t the first time. Others had tried to free Kurika from his prison below my shrine before and died in agony in the attempt. But this onmyōji was different. He must have discovered a way to protect himself from Kurika’s searing flames, for by the time I returned, I was too late and the powerful seals I had placed on Kurika’s prison had been broken. I could do nothing to save your father or the other villagers from his fury.”
The wisping swirls of incense smoke were beginning to make Sakami feel a little dizzy. Or was it perhaps the painful memories that had been stirred up, like muddy sediment from a stream bed?
“So it was Kurika who set fire to the village?”
“Yes. Or so my fox guardians told me when they fled to fetch me. Furious at being imprisoned for so long, he went on a murderous rampage.”
“This onmyōji,” Sakami said, “why did he set Kurika free? Did he bear the village a grudge?”
“He didn’t care about your village. Or my rice fields. The one thing that drove him was the desire to make Kurika his shikigami. He must have paid a considerable price to bind such a powerful kami to his will.”
Sakami knew nothing of the rules of onmyōdō magic. “What kind of price would he have paid?”
“Do you really want to know, child? A mortal soul.”
“Someone had to die?” Sakami felt a shiver go through her. “How horrible.”
“The price is always the same, whether it’s to control a dragon of fire, air, or water.”
“Is this onmyōji still alive? Do you know who he is?”
Inari shook her head. “Seven harvests ago I sensed his presence again far out beyond the rice fields. But I sensed him there again, only a few weeks ago. And, just as before, he was clever enough to disguise his true identity.”
“Shun and I saw figures in the flames. We thought they were Red Kite shinobi.” Sakami hesitated. “Were we deliberately misled? And supposing this onmyōji loses control of Kurika? Kurika bears you a grudge, Lady Inari. He could come back – and then how could we – ”
Inari’s slender forefinger sealed Sakami’s lips. “So many questions, Sakami.” She glanced toward the doorway. “Honou! That’s enough tofu.”
Honou reappeared, guiltily wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “I was really enjoying that,” he said defensively.
“Then perhaps you should make your excuses to my shrine guardians for stealing their treat.”
Two tall, slender figures materialized behind Inari, a man and a woman, both with creamy-white hair and brilliant amber eyes. Sakami glimpsed three feathery plumes of pale fire behind each shrine guardian.
“Three tails?” she murmured, realizing they were elite white kitsune of considerable power.
Honou dropped to his knees, babbling out an apology.
The male merely folded his arms in a gesture of disdai
n, but the female bent down and tugged at Honou’s hair, pulling his face close to her own.
“Listen to me, you cocky little cub, you’d better not pull that trick again, or I’ll make you pay. Understand me?”
“Sakami!” Honou turned to her, his eyes imploring. “You can bring some more from the kitchen, can’t you?”
“Only if you work hard for it.” Sakami felt that Honou had let her down in front of the elegant fox spirits. “You’ll be cleaning dishes tonight as your punishment.”
The female let go of him and he retreated behind Sakami, whimpering. Sakami bowed, but when she straightened up again Inari and her elegant attendants had vanished.
I must tell Kai about Kurika.
The elderly priest was dozing in the sun, his mouth slightly open, and his broom lying on the ground beside him. As Sakami knelt to retrieve the empty tea bowl, he started awake.
“Ah, it’s you, my dear. Thank you.”
“Could I leave something with you for safe-keeping in the shrine?” she asked.
“What is it?”
“A tortoiseshell comb. It was a gift. A very special gift. I’ve left it on the altar.”
He nodded. “I’ll keep it safe for you until our present troubles are over.”
Chapter 30
The night was still and hot. Kai lay in the stifling darkness, unable to sleep as he brooded over the events of the day: the discovery of the guards killed by Kite shinobi at the tunnel entrance; the shattered metal cylinder; and, most disturbing of all, Sakami’s story of the fire god imprisoned deep below the neglected mountain shrine…
If I were back at the monastery, I’d take my flute to the sea and play until my mind cleared.
Thin clouds covering the moon drifted away as he climbed the stair of the tallest tower in the castle. By the time he reached the little room under the eaves, moonlight was shining through the intricately carved wooden lattice, casting strange, geometric shadows on the floor. He settled himself in the alcove so that he could look far out across the bay to the open sea. And then he took out the ebony flute and blew gently across the mouthpiece, waiting until his breathing had steadied after the climb.
On a moonlit summer night, a song like ‘White Willow’ seemed a perfect choice. But for some reason, after he had played it through once, he felt no urge to repeat it; its light-hearted melody seemed at odds with his mood. Instead, the wistful ballad about Hikoboshi and Orihime, legendary lovers forced apart by their families, came to mind. Before he was fully aware of what he was doing, the sad, soulful phrases began to float out from the tower and into the night. The ebony flute resonated with a rich and haunting timbre that enhanced even the simplest tune. The yearning of the two who could never be united – except in death – obsessed him and he began to invent his own variations on the melody.
He was so lost in his playing that at first he didn’t notice the distant glimmer far out in the bay. But as it began to move, a ripple of azure light, snaking through the water straight toward the shore, he realized who it must be.
Is that you, Flood? It’s been difficult to keep my promise to you, but –
“Stop!”
The flute almost dropped from Kai’s hands. Turning, he saw that a veiled woman had appeared behind him, one hand outstretched, as if to snatch the instrument from him.
“Who – who are you?” he stammered. Was she a ghost? Or a kami ? She seemed to be staring over his shoulder, out at the dark sea. He followed the direction of her gaze and saw the luminescent dragon-trail suddenly fade away, as if extinguished by the black waves.
“I came just in time,” said the white-robed woman softly. She lifted her veil; Kai blinked, dazzled by the ethereal beauty of the pale face beneath. Her skin was as white and translucent as almond blossom, and her eyes, though dark, glimmered with an ethereal intensity.
“M - my lady?” The little room was suddenly filled with the summer scent of wild flowers. Kai knew that scent; he had often breathed it in as it drifted across the monastery from the rice fields on the warm wind. Is she Inari?
“How did you come by that flute, Kaito?” Her voice trembled as though she was having difficulty concealing her emotion.
“You know my name?”
“ He gave it to you, didn’t he?”
“He?” Kaito repeated, bewildered.
“You met him.” Her face was averted and he could not see her expression. “How was he?”
“Prince Shiomitsu?” She wanted to know how Flood was faring? After she had spoken so harshly about him that he was sure she must hate him. Kai hesitated, wondering how to reply. “He seemed…very lonely.”
“If only you hadn’t met him – but now it’s too late.” She reached out suddenly and caught hold of his left wrist, turning it upward. The Flood Dragon seal tingled at her touch; Kai saw that the tattooed dragon had begun to glow. She let go, just as suddenly, with a little tut of disgust.
“They’ve never told you, have they?” she said. “About what it truly means to be a Tide Dragon Sacrifice?”
Kai, still dazzled by her radiant face, slowly shook his head.
“You’ve seen the Tide Jewels? You’ve seen the flame that glows at the heart of each one? Did no one tell you that each jewel contains a living soul?”
***
Sakami knelt at her brother’s bedside, watching over him as he slept. Other wounded men tossed restlessly close by, mumbling in fever, even occasionally crying out, but Shun’s slumber was peaceful and his breathing was regular. He must be past the critical period at last.
A single lantern burned in the darkened hall but moonlight lit the sleeping men, bathing them in its unearthly pallor. At first she was hardly aware of the distant flute…and then, as the sound grew stronger and more confident, she raised her head.
“Kai,” she whispered. It had to be him. No one else in the castle could play with such skill. It was the first time she had heard him play since they left the monastery – and the sound enchanted her, just as it had that night. Then, the moon had still been a slender crescent; now it had grown to a full disc.
Drawn by the music, she tiptoed out of the hall and into the courtyard. The sound seemed to be coming from the top of the tallest tower, floating over the castle, a ribbon of silvered notes, borne on the evening breeze.
And yet, as she listened, she heard such sadness in the flute’s melody that it brought tears to her eyes. How can a simple tune make me want to cry? Is this how Kai really feels? It made her want to go and throw her arms around him and hug him. He never wanted to come back. He misses the monastery. But that thought made her sad too, for her life was here, and if the one thing Kai wanted was to go back to work with Master Seishi, then they could never be happy together.
The music stopped abruptly. Sakami saw a shimmer of light at the top of the tower, pearly white like polished rice. “Lady Inari,” she said under her breath. “What do you want with Kai?” She remembered the goddess’s warning. “You mustn’t punish him. Even if he has been marked by the Tide Dragons.”
She had to intervene.
***
“Flood’s flute.” Inari let out a thin, aching sigh. “You are so like him, Kaito.” She came slowly toward him, until her radiance enveloped them both in a cloud of shimmering light. He could only see her eyes, two dark, constant stars in the misty shimmer that held him hypnotized, unable to move or utter a word.
Beyond the dazzle of light he sees three figures weaving in and out in an intricate dance on an empty shore. As the gilded mist melts away, he sees two men, a woman standing, caught between them. One man, in scarlet lacquered armor, reaches out and grasps her hand, roughly pulling her away. She gazes back over her shoulder at the other, her tear-stained face contorted with anguish and longing. Her mouth opens to call out to him but all Kai can hear is the keening cries of the black cranes…
“Three Cranes on the Shore,” Kai murmured. Flood had shown him this haunting vision before. “Who was that woman? Why were they fight
ing over her?”
She was silent awhile, not meeting his eyes. “It was me,” she said eventually. “They were fighting over me. You know the tale of the First Empress Himiko, Kaito? What really happened that day has been erased from the official annals. But I was there, Kaito. And I must tell you the truth.” She raised her head and he was taken aback to see that her eyes were brimming with tears. I had no idea that a goddess could cry.
“You were there?”
“Look at me.” She sank to her knees before him, as if the weight of the confession was too overwhelming to bear any longer. Kai blinked as her white robes were imbued with vivid colors: imperial shades of crimson, gold, and purple, and the elaborate gilded headdress of the First Empress appeared on her head.
“Empress Himiko?”
“That was my name when I was a mortal woman. And I was the one who brought about that terrible flood. I still bear the guilt and the shame. I was arrogant and headstrong then. I persuaded the two most powerful men at my court, Lord Akatobi and Lord Kurozuro, to enter into a magical pact with Ryūjin, the Dragon King of the Sea, to save our country. They would do anything for me; they were both in love with me.
“Ryūjin transformed the clan lords into Flood and Ebb and created the Tide Jewels. And Flood destroyed the enemy fleet, just as it says in the legends, but then he lost control. In the terrible wall of water that swept across the plain, many of our people were drowned and all the rice fields were destroyed before Ebb could call back the tide. A famine followed. My surviving people were dying of hunger. So I prayed to the old rice god, Inari, and begged him to save them. I promised him anything – even my own life – in exchange.
“‘It will take more than a mortal lifespan to atone for your crimes’,” he told me. ‘You must learn to protect the crops and the creatures that live in these islands in my stead.’”
“So you took the old god’s place?”
“And the irony is that every summer my wanton act of destruction is celebrated at the Tide Dragon temple. If my descendants ever learned the truth about what I did…” Inari bowed her head, as if in penance, and the rich colors faded away until she stood there as before in her simple robes of white.
