Midnite's Daughter

by Rick Gualtieri

  He swallowed, savoring the flesh nearly as much as his grand designs.

  The others would never suspect that he, seemingly a proponent of the old ways – when he and his brothers rode forth into battle at the whims of the gods – aspired to greatness they dared not comprehend.

  The elder gods. Such wasted potential. Powerful enough to bend creation to their own will, yet content to dream away the eons like tired children. If only they could be smothered in their sleep, Ichitiro would have done so untold millennia ago. But alas, such a thing was not so easy. Sleeping they might be, but vulnerable they were not. Unless one had the means.

  Sadly, Ichitiro did not ... at least for the moment.

  The Taiyosori had been his goal for ages now. Supposedly forged during the heat death of the prior universe, its blade was said to be able to cut through anything if the one wielding it had a strong enough will. Anything, even the throat of a sleeping god.

  That its incalculable power was wasted in the hands of his fool sister was maddening. It should be wielded by one who was both worthy and willing to use it. But instead, it hung impotently in her throne room, mocking any who dared look upon it and imagine its potential.

  A part of him wondered if perhaps the elder gods had done so purposely, entrusting it to one too cowed to ever make use of it and far too frigid to ever let a worthy mate share her bedchamber and make claim to it. At times, he feared the gods had foreseen his treachery and prepared for it accordingly. The enchantments upon the weapon, rendering it virtually impossible to steal, seemed to suggest so. Ichitiro laughed it off as nothing but paranoia. The elder gods might be great, but so were the daimao.

  Time and again he’d courted Midnite, seeking a union with her, only to be rebuffed. He had figured the same logic by which he was slowly wearing down the resolve of the council would work upon her. That, little by little, she might come to reconsider his request until such time as she was his and, by virtue of marriage, so was all she owned.

  Infuriatingly, that had not come to pass, despite his best laid plans. Several times he had been almost tempted to challenge her to a duel, a battle for ownership of the sword, one of the few ways the weapon could be won. Ichitiro wasn’t a coward, but he was no fool either. Midnite was formidable, as were all the daimao. However, if she decided to use the sword in such a battle, something that would be in her right to do, then she could very well destroy him.

  Such thoughts had sent him into a rage in the past, requiring his servants to pick up the pieces and rebuild, both his chambers and their own broken bodies.

  But things had changed in the last several decades. The Taiyosori was still his best hope for conquering the accursed gods dreaming their damnable dreams. But, as it turned out, it wasn’t his only hope.

  The humans. Who would have guessed that such a pathetic species would have discovered such incredible destructive potential? True, he had argued that they should be crushed, and he meant it. But where his brothers would seek to grind the humans beneath their heel and send their civilization tumbling back to a time when they knew their place in the cosmic order, Ichitiro wished to conquer them and take their power for his own.

  Despite the edict against travel, he had kept close tabs on humanity these past decades. There were many demons still on Earth. In fact, some had been purposely sent there in the days before the restriction was imposed. They were loyal to him, willing to infiltrate human society and keep watch on it. Though they were foot soldiers at best, cannon fodder too stupid to properly understand the power the humans had harnessed, they had kept him informed over the years.

  Ichitiro was well aware that the humans’ technology, as they called it, had continued to advance in the decades since the daimao had retreated from their world. As awe-inspiring as their display of power had been at the time, they now possessed weapons hundreds of times more deadly.

  The Taiyosori would be unnecessary if he could possess that power. He could lay low the elder gods once and for all in a fitting pyre worthy of them. It was possible the celestial palace itself would not survive such an attack, but so be it. With the elder gods dead, Ichitiro’s ultimate plan would be set into motion. He would ascend. A new age would begin, led by a new god, one who would remake reality into his own image.

  As for the other daimao, they would either acknowledge him as their superior and serve him, or they would be destroyed. He smiled as he considered the glorious destiny ahead of him, one that would soon be within his grasp.

  “M ... master?”

  The rare smile fell from Ichitiro’s lips as the sputtering voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked down and spied Ito, a wretched ferret youkai who served him in only the barest of sense. The useless little demon often seemed far more preoccupied with stealing baubles than doing anything of note.

  Ichitiro only tolerated his existence because he was often a source of consternation for his brothers and sisters, something the great demon could appreciate. However, the youkai’s actions had long since ceased to amuse him. The ferret was at least cunning enough to realize this and oftentimes stayed out of his master’s sight.

  So why now was he daring to ruin Ichitiro’s musings on a future when he and he alone would reign supreme?

  Wait. This wasn’t a lone offense. Hadn’t the insufferable little weasel likewise tried to get his attention during court earlier, nearly causing him embarrassment in front of the council? And for what? Probably to show him some earring or bracelet he’d swiped in a pathetic attempt to win his favor.

  Ichitiro was having none of it. Though he was sated from his meal, that did not mean he wouldn’t enjoy wringing the little beast’s neck. And if he happened to kill the youkai in the process, what of it? He had plenty more servants who were of far more use to him. Ito would not be missed. Not by him, and certainly not by anyone else.

  True, his appearance had been the catalyst that had broken up the meeting, ending Reiden’s tireless pontification for the time being. However, Ichitiro was not one prone to showing gratitude toward those less than he.

  Quick as a snake, he lashed out and grabbed the ferret youkai by the neck, eliciting a frightened squeak from him. He dragged him over until they were eye to eye, the youkai’s tail landing in the boiling mud and causing it to squeal in pain.

  “You have either become very bold this day, Ito, or even stupider than you normally are. I will give you one chance to convince me that I should not skin you alive for your earlier interruption of the council.”

  He switched his grip, holding the tiny demon by the scruff of his neck, just inches above the steaming mud.

  “A hanyou!” the ferret squeaked.

  “What of them?”

  “I ... I saw one today.”

  Ichitiro’s eyes narrowed. Was this Ito’s new form of amusement? He’d grown bored of petty thievery and was now resorting to lies? If so, he’d picked the wrong audience for his idiocy. “Impossible. There aren’t any of the disgusting little half-breeds in the palace.”

  “Untrue.”

  “You would call me a liar?”

  “Never, master! Merely uninformed.”

  It was a poor choice of words. Ichitiro quickly dunked the ferret youkai in the boiling mud, causing him to scream in agony. He lifted the little demon up to eye level again. “I am Ichitiro of the daimao. You would dare think me ignorant of anything that occurs here?”

  “No ... m-master! Please. You are wise and see much. But not if something were purposely hidden from your eyes.”

  Ichitiro was growing tired with the ferret’s ramblings, regardless of whether they were thinly veiled insults to his power or the truth. “And who would be able to keep something hidden from me?” He lowered the ferret again, this time intending to keep him submerged until he was properly cooked.

  “Midnite!” Ito screeched just as his paws touched the viscous fluid.

  “Midnite?” Ichitiro asked, suddenly intrigued. If the little demon was indeed lyin
g, he had at least picked a topic of interest. He again lifted the ferret up until they were eye level. “And why would Midnite harbor a hanyou?”

  “The hanyou,” he squeaked in full panic. “It claimed that Midnite was its mother.”

  14

  “Good work, Kisaki,” the older man said, viewing the rows of empty tables and their shining tabletops.

  “Thank you, Yoshida-san,” Kisaki replied. “Is there anything else I can do?”

  “Don’t you ever get tired?” he asked with a laugh. He was a short, stern-faced man, but when he smiled, it lit up his whole face, making him seem much younger than he was. “I swear, my regular busboy asks for a break every time he lifts an empty glass. Thank you for filling in for him.”

  “I’m happy to be of assistance.”

  Mr. Yoshida nodded, seemingly impressed with the work accomplished. “I think that’s all for today. Why don’t you take the evening off? You have a whole lifetime of work ahead of you. You might as well enjoy yourself a little while you’re still young. Besides, I believe my daughter was looking for you.”

  Kisaki smiled, bowed to him, then excused herself.

  “Just don’t spend your pay all at once,” he called after her. “And be mindful of boys. Pretty girls like you two are going to have to beat them off with a stick, and not all of them are going to be worth the trouble.”

  She turned back, waved to her boss, then gave him a thumbs-up – a gesture Tamiko had taught her.

  The concept of being the servant for a change was a novel idea, but one she hadn’t found onerous in the least. It certainly beat Shitoro’s endless hours of lessons. The work itself was easy enough. Mr. Yoshida had to have been teasing when he’d praised her just then. Surely nobody could get so easily tired doing what she had done for the past six hours.

  Besides, she’d enjoyed it.

  Her friend Tamiko – and Kisaki definitely considered her such, something that caused her heart to swell every time she thought of her – had spoken to Mr. Yoshida at length. He’d finally agreed to take her on for what he called odd jobs. She was intrigued by the concept, and rightfully so, it had turned out. What a wonderful thing these odd jobs were. Every morning for the past three days Kisaki had been given a different task to perform, which she dove into with great aplomb.

  She’d found them simple enough, but what gave her true joy was all the humans she was able to interact with. She didn’t understand all of their actions or customs. Indeed, there was much she didn’t understand. However, so long as she accomplished what she was given to do, all seemed well, and she received praise at the end of the day.

  Kisaki spent her nights with Tamiko, asking any questions she’d come up with during the day then listening to the answers her new friend gave her, learning what she could, much as she’d done during her studies. Shitoro may well have marveled at what a good student she was being. It would seem that his tireless work had not been in vain after all.

  She slept in a small room with an uncomfortable bed, a mere closet compared to what she was used to, but she took it all with good cheer. That she would awake every morning to this invigorating new world, the seemingly endless ocean only minutes away, made her feel more free than she had in years.

  If anything, it was only that concept – time – which confused her. Tamiko had told her that she was fifteen years of age and Mr. Yoshida was forty-five. It was that latter which worried her. His hair was thin and he appeared to tire easily. She had learned in the many hours spent studying at her desk that the lifespans of humans did not compare to that of youkai, but in practice, she found it hard to understand.

  Apparently, humans had the same trouble understanding as she did, for Tamiko had laughed when Kisaki had told her that she was over seventy of her years in age. She’d thought Kisaki was joking.

  “I’ll just tell my dad you’re sixteen,” she’d said.

  There were many visitors to this place – the resort, as others called it – and they were seemingly of all ages, young and old. Kisaki was only now beginning to understand that Shitoro had been right. It saddened her to think that in perhaps another thirty or forty years, Mr. Yoshida might be gone. It made her even sadder to think that one day the same would be true of Tamiko.

  What a cruel planet this was, to create such wonderful beings but then to pluck them away so soon.

  Speaking of which, despite the days which had passed, she was still certain that it was only a matter of time before her transgressions were discovered and she was plucked away, too, except it would be back to the living death that was her chambers in the palace. Time was short, no matter which way she viewed it, and that annoyed and even angered her. Fortunately, the wonders of her surroundings helped keep those feelings at bay.

  Despite wearing new and strange clothes, ones that Tamiko had been good enough to lend her so that she blended in, she kept the prizes from the start of her journey with her at all times – the crystals and the quill, even if the quill in particular sometimes worried her.

  It seemed that whenever her temper flared, so too would it. It would heat up and pulse, almost as if it felt the same emotions she did, as if it were a living thing. In truth, it frightened her a little. It still rightfully belonged to her mother, though, and that made her reluctant to part ways with it. It seemed an act of utmost disrespect to do so, and she had been raised better than that.

  Besides, it reminded her to keep her emotions in check, and perhaps that wasn’t a bad thing.

  “Hey, Kisaki!”

  All of those thoughts scattered to the wind as she looked up and saw her friend approaching from the direction of the office where Mr. Yoshida kept her busy during the day with what she called paperwork.

  Kisaki bowed as her friend approached, but Tamiko laughed. “You don’t have to be so formal.”

  “I enjoy being polite to my friend.”

  “Well, your friend is starving for some dinner. How about you?”

  “Yes, I would like some dinner. Perhaps another of those hamburgers you showed to me the other day. They were quite delicious.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve never had them before. I also can’t believe you ate four. Where are you putting them all?”

  Kisaki’s understanding of Tamiko’s language had come quickly, but she was only beginning to pick up on some of the idiosyncrasies. At least she understood her friend was joking and not being literal in her question.

  “I have a better idea,” Tamiko said. “Have you ever had taco rice?”

  “I have had rice, but I don’t know what a taco is.”

  “What did they feed you in that prison you were locked up in?”

  “Many delectable dishes, but nothing like I have sampled these last few days.”

  Tamiko put her arm around Kisaki’s shoulder. “Then I think you’re in for a treat.”

  “Excellent,” Kisaki replied, her heart warm from the glow of friendship.

  Tamiko led the way. “Let’s go!”

  After a few minutes, Kisaki pulled out the strange papers covered in numbers and the faces of other humans from her pocket. “Yoshida-san gave these to me today. Said it was for a job well done. Is this normal?”

  “Put those away. You don’t want to lose your week’s pay.” She let out a sighing laugh. “You really are an odd duck, you know that?”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Kisaki was delighted. Not only was her friend right about dinner, but the dessert, a thick pastry called sata andagi, was equally marvelous. Best yet, when it came time to pay – for here, one seemingly paid the servants for preparing and bringing meals – Kisaki was delighted to see that the papers Mr. Yoshida had given her were able to be used for such.

  This led to an after dinner walk along the beach back toward the resort, where Tamiko attempted to explain how commerce worked. It was so simple a concept, yet alien to one who had lived their entire life in a place where the lords – or lady, as in her case – of the palac
e commanded absolute loyalty by sheer virtue of their status. On Earth, humans worked for one another, not necessarily for a lord, but for a boss, much as she worked for Mr. Yoshida. In return for that labor, they were compensated. That compensation could then, in turn, be used to purchase the goods or services of another. So on and so on. In theory, as Tamiko explained, one could be a servant one moment but the boss the next.

  Such a concept was mind-blowing, another colloquialism Kisaki had recently learned. But, as she considered it, she realized she had seen a form of that in action. Wasn’t she her mother’s heir? As such, she was ostensibly of higher social standing than her many servants. Yet Shitoro was also her guardian and tutor, which meant she was expected to obey his commands. All of this happened, of course, without the concept of pay. However, when Kisaki considered Tamiko’s words in those terms, she found it more understandable.

  “You really have led a sheltered life,” Tamiko said as they walked along the beach, shoes in hand, feeling the sand between their toes. Just as quickly, she added, “I’m sorry. I forgot how things were for you. I didn’t mean... It’s just...”

  “What?” Kisaki asked, curious.

  “It’s wrong to joke about leading a sheltered life to someone who was, in essence, kept as a prisoner.”

  “If it helps, it was a comfortable prison most days. There was no physical discomfort on my part, just a ... longing to be free.”

  “I can’t imagine it,” Tamiko said. “My dad has always allowed me a lot of space. I mean, I practically have the full run of this beach whenever I want. He’s never tried to keep me locked up anywhere, except maybe when I’ve been sick.”

  “How could he? You only work for him during the day. The nights are your own.”

  “Weekends too,” Tamiko said with a smile. “But that’s only because school is out. He’s still my dad, though. He could ground me if he wanted to.”

  Kisaki found herself confused. Tamiko had called Mr. Yoshida her dad before, but she had assumed it meant the same thing as boss. She had simply thought it was a more formal title. Kisaki had tried to call him that two days ago, but he merely smiled awkwardly at her and walked away. Now she began to wonder if it was more than that. Perhaps Mr. Yoshida was not only Tamiko’s boss, but something akin to her guardian as well. After all, Tamiko had referred to Shitoro as her stepdad at one point. Curious, she decided to ask, “What is a dad?”