Midnite's Daughter

by Rick Gualtieri

  “Where?”

  Kisaki’s question was answered almost immediately by a small voice echoing from somewhere. “Human? Human, are you still there? I swear, if you have abandoned me, I shall call down a curse that will...”

  “Shitoro?” Kisaki cried.

  “Mistress Kisaki?” he replied from somewhere unseen. “Oh, thank the elder gods you’re okay. I thought the worst when Crag unleashed his spell.”

  “Where are you?”

  “That’s what I wanted to show you,” Tamiko said, leading the way.

  On the far side of the trash pile lay a small metal canister, a waste basket if Kisaki remembered correctly. Shitoro’s feet were sticking up out of it.

  “See what I mean?” Tamiko gestured toward it. “I’ve been trying to get him out, but he’s stuck.”

  “Does that sword of yours double as a can opener?” Stephen asked with a smirk.

  “I do not know,” Kisaki replied, grinning, understanding it was a joke. “But perhaps it wouldn’t be wise to find out.”

  “Okay, then, let’s do this the hard way. Tamiko, hold on to the pail with me. Kisaki, you grab his feet.”

  The next few minutes were spent alternately trying to force Shitoro free and gently trying to twist him out, all to his continued complaints about their ineptitude.

  Finally, he came loose with an audible pop, sending both sides tumbling into the pile of trash.

  “Well, this is gross,” Tamiko complained.

  “Oh, come on. I’m not that bad,” Stephen said from beneath her.

  “I ... err ... didn’t mean it that way.”

  He laughed. “I know. Help me up. I’m sitting on something that’s kind of sticky.”

  “I think we’re back to gross again.” She chuckled and offered him a hand.

  Over on the other side, Shitoro stood and began to dust himself off. “Many thanks, my lady.”

  “Eh hem,” Tamiko said.

  “And you humans, too. I suppose you do have your uses at times. I...” He paused as he looked Kisaki over. “What happened to your neck?”

  “This?” She reached up and touched her throat, still a bit tender from being manhandled. “Courtesy of Crag.”

  “That brute!” Shitoro cried. “Where is he? I shall teach him a lesson that one even as dense as he won’t soon forget.”

  “Pushing up daisies,” Stephen replied.

  “Daisies? What do flowers have to do with...”

  “I believe Stephen means he is no more.” Kisaki glanced his way and he nodded. She then noticed Tamiko standing next to him, her cheeks bright pink. “Did the storm giant strike you, too?”

  “Me?” Tamiko asked, quickly stepping away from Stephen. “No. It’s just ... kinda warm out, is all.”

  “Wait,” Shitoro said, glancing between the trio. “You vanquished Crag?”

  “Yes,” Kisaki replied.

  “With your bare hands?”

  “No. He was too powerful for me to...”

  Stephen clapped her on the back. “Don’t sell yourself short. You knocked him on his butt more than once. And throwing him over your shoulder? That was freaking cool.”

  “Truly?” Shitoro asked. “Amazing. Crag was impressively strong, even for a mazoku. Yet you managed to hold your ground against him?”

  “For a time,” she replied.

  “A mere second is more than most can lay claim to. Believe me, I know.”

  She bent down, put a hand on his shoulder, and looked him in the eye. “Know that your people are avenged, my friend. Crag died on his knees.”

  Shitoro nodded solemnly but still pressed on. “How?”

  After a moment, she said, “The Taiyosori.”

  “Ah, I think I see. He tried to take it and it struck him down.”

  “He did, but it merely wounded him. I ... it turned back to its true form for a time and I used it to behead him.”

  “You wielded the Taiyosori?”

  “Yes. I have held it since leaving the...”

  Shitoro waved a hand dismissively. “The Taiyosori allowed you to take it, yes, I already know that. It accepted your blood as that of your mother’s line. But to allow you to wield it in battle, a thing which has not been done for several millennia at least, that means it has accepted you as its new master.”

  “But it’s my mother’s sword.”

  Shitoro placed a hand on his chin and thought about it for a moment. “Perhaps no longer.”

  Tamiko finally stepped between them. “Enough with the gloomy faces. Kisaki just kicked that monster’s butt and saved the town. That calls for a celebration to me.” She turned and began to lead them out of the alleyway.

  “I’m not sure the town is in any condition to celebrate.”

  “Then we’ll figure out something,” she replied. “At the very least, let’s find someplace to eat. I don’t know about the rest of you, but fighting storm giants leaves me starving.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Unseen by Kisaki, her friends, or many others who were present to bear witness to the events of that day, another set of eyes watched it all from the shadows.

  Small, black, and beady, they followed the battle with nervous anticipation.

  A wolf spotted the interloper at one point and gave chase, but he managed to lose it by virtue of his small size and quickness.

  Then, when Crag cast his spell, he had almost been swept away by the raging winds that followed, managing to barely find shelter in time.

  All he truly wanted was to run and get as far away from this accursed place as he could. But he’d been given orders, and such matters weren’t to be ignored lightly. He had already displeased his master once and suffered greatly for it, only surviving by his good graces. He wouldn’t risk that again.

  The girl had put up a surprisingly good fight. Even among his own people, Crag was considered a superior warrior, nearly unbeatable on the battlefield. Yet this girl and her pathetic human pets had managed to not only bloody the mazoku, but wound him grievously in the process.

  However, in the end, it had all seemed for naught, and he’d been certain that the hanyou would die badly. But the girl had one more surprise in store for Crag – the very reason that he’d been sent to observe her – the Taiyosori.

  At first, he’d been confused as to why she would attempt to use something as useless as a quill against a beast such as Crag. He’d stolen plenty of them in his time and never once found them to be of much use for anything. But then she’d proven him wrong by actually blinding the mazoku with it. It seemed impossible, but what happened next made that look mundane by comparison.

  It wasn’t a quill at all.

  It was the Taiyosori, that which his master lusted endlessly for. Somehow, it was on this world and being wielded by the hands of a mere half-breed.

  Within moments, the fight was over and Crag lay dead, vanquished by the most ignoble of foes.

  He ignored the rest, as he processed that which had transpired. Besides, he had the information he needed.

  Ito slipped away into a stand of trees, where he transformed back to his bipedal form. He pulled a crystal, grey as the sky during Crag’s conjuring, from his robes and commanded it to take him back to the celestial palace.

  35

  Though neither was aware of the other doing so, Ito was not the only youkai to visit Earth that day.

  In a flash of light, bright but tinged on the edges with a deep blackness, Tanaki reappeared in Kisaki’s study along with three of Midnite’s other servants.

  Though the sending chamber was the normal place of transport to other worlds – the spells woven into its framework specifically designed to aid in sending magic – it wasn’t the only means of egress from the celestial palace. This was especially true where the daimao were concerned.

  Midnite dismissed the spell, a concentration of energy in the form of a sending circle, once her servants returned. To keep it active was to risk
it being sensed by her siblings, something she very much preferred not happen.

  She immediately noted the lack of her daughter or Shitoro among them, worry continuing to etch her face. “Anything, Tanaki?”

  The badger youkai averted her eyes and gave a single shake of her head. “No, mistress. We scoured the island where you sent Shitoro, but with little luck. We found residual traces of his scent along with that of your daughter, but there was no sign of them otherwise.”

  “First Kisaki and now Shitoro,” Midnite said to herself. “What is afoot on that world?”

  “Wherever they are, my lady, I believe they are together.” She nodded to the canine youkai standing by her side. “Kita?”

  The larger youkai nodded in deference to Tanaki. “If it pleases you, my lady, I believe that Shitoro was able to locate your daughter. I found his scent mingled with hers.”

  “That is no surprise,” Midnite replied. “Shitoro was sent to the same spot Kisaki would have appeared.”

  “I beg pardon,” the dog youkai said, “but I do not believe that is the case. The age of their lingering scents matched. They stood upon the beach together. I am certain of it. But they were not alone. I also detected the scent of a human there.”

  “The entire planet is full of humans, Kita.”

  “As I am aware, and indeed the sand reeked of them. But one in particular matched the age of Shitoro and Kisaki’s scents.”

  “Are you certain?” Midnite asked.

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “Where did they go?”

  Kita glanced sidelong at Tanaki, who again nodded. “That is difficult to know. They did not appear to go anywhere. Kisaki’s scent approached from the direction of a place of gathering for the humans. Shitoro’s was from elsewhere. I believe he had been scouring the island for your daughter, and that is where he finally found her. Both scents lead to that same spot, but then go no further.”

  “Do you think this human is responsible for my daughter’s disappearance?”

  “No, I do not.”

  Midnite considered this. She debated arguing with the youkai, but then stopped herself. Kita was her best tracker. Her nose was exceptional even among her own kind. It was why Midnite had asked her to go on this risky mission after Shitoro failed to return. If she said something was so, then Midnite had no cause to doubt her. “Please continue.”

  “Thank you, mistress,” Kita said with a deferential bow. “The scent was from a young human. Female, just entering the flower of womanhood but not fully grown. I very much doubt such a being could be responsible for abducting your daughter.”

  “I will remind you that my daughter is no warrior. She has lived her entire life between these walls, sheltered from those who would do her harm.”

  “I meant no disrespect, my lady,” Kita quickly added, “but your blood flows in Kisaki’s veins. Surely that makes her far more than a mere human.”

  Midnite’s eyes narrowed. Worry was making her temper short. She was aware that some hanyou were born with powers. Occasionally, they mimicked that of their parents, but just as often, they were an odd quirk of the mixing of human and divine blood. But Kisaki had never shown any such talents. It was something Shitoro had been told to be mindful of. So far as she was aware, Kisaki was essentially human, albeit with a greatly exaggerated lifespan. Considering her sheltered upbringing, that made her vulnerable not only to youkai, but to other humans as well.

  “There is also Shitoro to consider,” Tanaki quickly added. “He is more than capable of dealing with a lone human.”

  Finally, Midnite’s expression softened and she nodded for them to continue.

  “There is also one additional oddity. The human’s scent ended abruptly at the same time as Shitoro’s and Kisaki’s,” Kita said. “Wherever they were sent, I believe the human accompanied them.”

  “Sent?” Midnite asked. “Why would you use that word?”

  “I can find no other reason for their sudden disappearance,” Kita explained. “There is also...” She trailed off as if uncertain how to continue.

  “Kita?”

  “I cannot be certain, my lady. There were many odors present, some quite alien to me. But I could have sworn that I caught the faintest trace of miasma there as well.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Ichitiro’s bad mood had passed, but his good moods were often not much better. Indeed, he was sometimes crueler when his spirits were high. When he was in a foul temper, he often took it out upon his surroundings, creating a mess for his servants to clean up, but leaving them relatively intact. When he wasn’t occupied with destroying his chambers, that meant he was more likely to do something that meant pain and suffering for those who lived to serve him.

  He was a stark contrast to Midnite, who considered her youkai’s loyalty to be something worth earning. Ichitiro thought nothing of the sort. Those who served him did so absolutely, out of fear or awe of his power. To show him anything less than the most groveling subservience was to invite disaster.

  If anything, it had been even worse before Reiden had laid down his edict against travel. In the past, if a youkai displeased Ichitiro, he could kill them and have them replaced within the hour. Now, he was forced to be more mindful. His pool of servants was limited. He couldn’t steal other youkai from his siblings and force them to do his bidding, not without being noticed. And, despite his lack of respect for Reiden’s orders, any new youkai brought to the palace would be quickly noticed. As such, he was forced to curb his baser nature, but only by a bit. The healing properties available in the palace were more than enough to ensure that the only way one of Ichitiro’s servants perished was if he truly wished it to happen.

  As such, he took great satisfaction in his current meal – a small monkey youkai, normally tasked with cleaning the upper reaches of Ichitiro’s domain that the other servants had trouble reaching.

  Not today, though. The monkey’s screams as Ichitiro ripped off an arm and began to strip the flesh from the appendage were music to his ears, a serenade to aid his digestion. He imagined the monkey was Crag, the overbearing mazoku he’d hired to track down Midnite’s bastard offspring and, more importantly, the Taiyosori.

  It still seemed such an absurd concept to him, that one so low could do such a thing. However, Ichitiro was not one to let the potential for opportunity pass. At the very least, it served as an amusing distraction from the normal boredom that the palace offered.

  He could have conscripted some other demon to do his bidding, one that could have tracked the hanyou and reported back to him without bringing any undue attention to themselves. But that was precisely why he had paid Crag. The mazoku was battle hardened and experienced, but he was also known for being stupid and shortsighted when his dander was up. For over seventy years, Crag had stewed on Earth. Ichitiro was certain the fool was spoiling for a fight after all this time. He suspected that Crag would barrel ahead like a petulant child, causing chaos and death wherever he stepped.

  Ichitiro wanted war with the humans. A brute like Crag was just the tool to make mankind once more painfully aware that they shared their puny world with superior beings. Even Reiden would be hard-pressed to ignore such an occurrence.

  The only potential wildcard to his plan was the Taiyosori, if indeed it turned out to be in possession of the hanyou. It was well known that Crag was displeased with his place in the cosmic order. He resented the daimao, much as Ichitiro resented the elder gods.

  In the hands of a weakling hanyou, the Taiyosori might as well be no better than a shard of worthless glass. But if Crag killed it and subsequently seized control of the weapon for himself, it could make him a potential threat.

  Ichitiro did not think that scenario likely, but he was no fool. After Ito had healed sufficiently, he’d commanded the ferret to Earth to spy on Crag. If he was successful in his mission and somehow managed to attain the weapon, Ichitiro would be notified immediately so that he could take proper action again
st the mazoku – preferably before his siblings were able to mobilize.

  A slight tingle in the back of his mind caused Ichitiro to pause before he could tear off the monkey’s other arm. He smiled, revealing his sharp, blood-stained teeth. It was almost as if his very thoughts had summoned the little youkai.

  The doors to Ichitiro’s inner chamber opened and Ito scrambled in, practically tripping over himself in the process. The pathetic runt of a youkai dropped to his knees before the daimao and began prostrating himself. It was tiresome, but not entirely unexpected. Despite his recent healing bath, the scars from their last meeting were still visible beneath Ito’s mangy coat.

  His meal forgotten, he tossed the bleeding monkey to the side and turned to the ferret.

  “My lord and master,” Ito squeaked. “If it pleases you, I seek an audience.”

  “Yes, yes, on with it,” Ichitiro said with an impatient wave of his hand.

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  Ichitiro couldn’t help but notice the little youkai seemed nervous, even more so than usual. He sincerely hoped the ferret wasn’t here to report failure. Ichitiro could not let such incompetence stand. He would have the youkai flayed, and this time, no healing bath would be drawn. “Speak now or feel my wrath.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “What of the hanyou?”

  “A female, my lord. I overheard her friends call her Kisaki.”

  “Kisaki?” Ichitiro rolled it over his tongue a few times. “A weak name for a pathetic creature. You are certain she is my sister’s bastard offspring?”

  “I have little doubt, my lord. She looks very much like Lady Midnite, save her hair and skin. It is as if your sister were reborn as a human.”

  Ichitiro bared his teeth. “Regardless of my disdain for my brethren, know that I will not tolerate any daimao being insulted as such by the likes of you. Tread lightly, Ito. I shall not warn you again.”

  “My apologies!” The ferret began to prostrate himself again, smacking his head against the floor each time he bowed.

  Eventually, the daimao waved for him to stop. Much more and he’d knock himself senseless, which would do little to sate Ichitiro’s curiosity.