A Mortal Song

by Megan Crewe

  “It’s Haru,” I said, staring. “How did he—? We mentioned going to get the treasures. He must have come here to wait for Chiyo.” And decided to join in the fight when he’d seen her.

  Keiji bent over the railing. “What’s he doing?”

  Haru tossed another handful at the ghosts, the soft objects glimmering pink. “He’s got flowers,” I said.

  “Lotuses! Nice. He must have looked that up—the ghosts will be afraid of them because they’re sacred. At least, it looks like it. I wasn’t sure if that one would work.”

  “It does seem to,” I said with a flicker of surprise. But that was Keiji’s area, knowing these things. That was how he was going to help. Me...

  A couple of forms solidified around Haru. Knives flashed in their hands, and my shoulders stiffened. The sacred flowers might repel the ghosts’ energy, but they wouldn’t block a physical weapon.

  Haru brandished the flowers at them, but as he turned one way and then the other, the ghosts followed. Another solidified, and another. Any second he’d make a wrong step and give one of them an opening. And no one was coming to help him. Chiyo was pressing on so intently that she and the other kami probably hadn’t even noticed him.

  “They’re going to kill him,” Keiji said faintly.

  They were. Because he’d dared to attack them, dared to stand by Chiyo, despite his human frailty. My fingers clutched the railing.

  He was so brave, and he was going to die for it.

  14

  ALL AT ONCE, I felt sick. I was the one who’d been raised to face battles like this, who’d trained for it. And now I was cringing up here while Haru put his life on the line—for Chiyo, for the mountain, for my home.

  What was I so scared of? The memory of that cold gaping darkness still made my chest clench up. But so did the thought of living just a few more days only to watch Fuji’s fire spill down, knowing thousands of humans and kami were dead and I hadn’t even tried to stop it. I didn’t like being this weak, cringing thing.

  Maybe I wasn’t kami, maybe I wasn’t so strong after all, but I wasn’t completely helpless. I could do what was right.

  I forced my legs to move, propelling myself toward the far end of the walkway. My muscles felt heavy. Perspiration beaded on my forehead. I kept walking, faster, almost jogging now. My heart was beating at the back of my mouth, my stomach churning, but the idea of seeing Haru fall was so much worse.

  Keiji hurried after me. He caught up by the top of the stairs.

  “You don’t have to come,” I said as I started down.

  He kept pace, offering me a shaky smile. “If you’re going, I’m going.”

  We sprinted downward. My palm was slick against the railing, and the impact of each step rattled through my feet. Keiji skidded and stumbled as we hit the sidewalk. He caught himself against the stone wall.

  “I’m fine, let’s go,” he said.

  We ran.

  Around the curve of the drive, we came up on the mass of ghostlights. Keiji hesitated, but I hurled myself straight into their midst. I heard the scuffing of his shoes as he followed. The dim orbs whirled around me in a clotted fog, their chilly edges brushing my skin like dusty cobwebs. Bile rose up in my throat.

  Then I spotted Haru to my left—Haru, and a solid ghost-woman slashing at his rectangular jaw with a knife. I had no time to think. My well-honed instincts kicked in, and I lunged forward.

  Without the boost of ki, my limbs responded more slowly, as if moving through water rather than air. But I was fast enough. My elbow rammed into the woman’s side, and she teetered back with a grunt.

  “The ofuda!” Keiji shouted behind me.

  My hand was already darting to my pocket. I grabbed the last few I’d kept, wishing I hadn’t given most of them away. As the ghost-woman turned toward me, I smacked one against her head. She wisped away, but more of the ghosts-turned-corporeal were closing in around us. My teeth gritted, my pulse thundering in my ears. I was afraid to know what sound might slip out if I opened my mouth.

  I was here. That was what mattered, however terrified I was.

  “Mitsuoka!” Haru said, startled. “Sora!” It wasn’t the time for greetings or explanations. We edged away from the approaching ghosts, back to back in a cluster of three. Keiji’s shoulder pressed firmly against mine, but his breath was ragged. Haru dug into his pocket and pushed a small silk bag into my free hand.

  “Put it on,” he said, passing another to Keiji. “It’s an amulet against evil spirits—I bought them at the shrine this morning.” A similar bag dangled against his broad chest. I yanked the ribbon over my head.

  A man with a gun sprang at us, pointing the muzzle at my face. My legs locked, but my arms remembered what to do. I snapped his wrist aside an instant before his finger could pull the trigger. The gun clattered onto the pavement. Haru tossed a lotus flower at him, and the ghost staggered backward, fading into his ethereal form.

  To my right, another ghost leapt at Keiji with a switchblade. Keiji dodged, waving an ofuda, but there wasn’t much room for him to maneuver. The blade sliced across the skin above his elbow. He yelped. But as the man drew back his knife to strike again, Keiji hurtled forward and whipped the charm at the ghost’s forehead. The strip of paper smacked the bridge of the man’s nose, and he vanished.

  A four-legged form lurched through the ghostlights beyond our attackers. The deer kami. She reared and twisted as the ghosts around her battered her from all sides. My heart sank.

  We’d brought the other kami into this, but none of them would have been trained to fight. Most of them weren’t even built for it. What was happening to the rest of our “army”?

  “Run!” I shouted to her. “Get out of here while you can!” I grabbed a flower from Haru’s basket and pitched it toward her. The ghostlights momentarily broke away, and the deer dashed for the street.

  Haru lashed out at the ghosts around us with a fistful of petals. They edged back, but didn’t leave. They were simply being more cautious now that they knew we could banish them. As we glared at them, several more lights shimmered into solid bodies. I licked my dry lips. I only had four ofuda left. I wasn’t sure how many Keiji was carrying.

  “I’m out of flowers,” Haru said quietly. “Do you think Chiyo has made it through?”

  From where we stood, I could no longer see the space where she’d been fighting. Maybe she had made it to the gates, and we could flee now. Or maybe she still needed whatever small distraction we were providing.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Do you think you can keep going a little longer?”

  He reached behind him and pulled a surprisingly authentic-looking katana from a sheath slung across his back. Keiji let out a wobbly laugh.

  Kendo club—that was what Chiyo had said, wasn’t it?

  “It’s only a practice sword,” Haru said, his face sallow but his expression resolute. “It’s not very sharp, but it’ll hurt if I hit them hard enough. I’ll keep fighting until she’s safe, or die trying.”

  “Same here,” Keiji declared. He feinted at the ghosts around us with a handful of ofuda. A few beads of blood dripped off the tip of his elbow onto the pavement.

  Then a cry split the air, so high and victorious it rang in my ears like music.

  “I got it! Watch out, you ghouls—I’ve got a magic sword now.”

  Chiyo. Relief washed over me. The lights around us shivered, and the corporeal ghosts glanced from us to the inner shrine grounds, apparently not sure where they were needed most. As they faltered, I took a gulp of warm night air and stepped out, slamming a charm against one man’s forehead, kicking the feet out from under the woman next to him, and throwing another ofuda down on her. Both blinked out of the world of the living.

  When I looked up, Chiyo was plowing through the sea of ghosts. The straight sword in her hands glowed as she swung it in a wide arc. Every ghostlight the blade touched didn’t vanish, but shattered into sprays of glinting mist. Grinning, Chiyo spun around. Dozens of ghos
ts scattered in her wake. Our attackers abandoned us to charge at her, only to be disintegrated by another swing of the sacred sword.

  A tingle of ki I recognized as Takeo’s rippled over me. He touched my back.

  “Come this way,” he said, his tone betraying no hint of emotion at finding me there. His hand clasped mine. A few of the other kami gathered around us with a rush of ki. We dashed onto the street, Chiyo circling us with the sword held high, and then on toward the train tracks, faster than any ghost could follow.

  When we finally came to a halt at a shrine far beyond the fringes of the city, the rest of the kami shifted back into corporeal form. That was when I realized not all those who’d come to Nagoya with us had made it this far. There was no sign of the pheasant or the marten. The doe immediately sank to the ground and lowered her graceful head to her haunches, and the monkey limped past her, examining a cut on its chest that hadn’t quite healed. One of the human-like kami was hugging the other, who was shivering.

  My skin prickled uncomfortably. We might have gotten what we wanted, but the assault had left us far from unscathed.

  The shrine’s guardian, a sturdy, dour-faced tree kami who lived in the equally sturdy oak at the back of the grounds, cringed over the blood on Keiji’s arm. He healed the cut with a brush of ki and led him to the purifying fountain to wash it. The other kami settled on the smooth stone platform that surrounded the shrine building. And Chiyo stopped admiring her new sword long enough to notice Haru standing in our midst.

  She froze, her eyes going wide. Haru stiffened. He smiled with an awkwardness at odds with his usual physical ease, as if he wasn’t sure how he’d be received. Then Chiyo’s startled expression broke with a grin so huge it nearly split her face. She dropped the sword and flung her arms around him.

  “I tried to tell them we had to go back to Tokyo to get you,” she said. She pulled back to look at him, bobbed up to kiss him so soundly my cheeks warmed as I watched, and then squeezed him in another embrace. “But you came and found me!”

  Haru laughed, hugging her back. “I knew you were going for the treasures, so I figured I’d stake out one and wait. And I guessed you’d go for the sword before the others.”

  “Ha!” Chiyo said. “Who says you’re not a smart one?”

  As she started asking him about her friends, Takeo walked past us, deep in conversation with the oak kami. He shot me a reassuring glance before they disappeared behind the shrine building, and understanding struck me. He was explaining the need to get me home.

  My gut knotted. I imagined sitting in the Ikedas’ cramped living room with the narrow couch and the piano, my “real” parents hovering over me, while kami who’d never before encountered a blade or a fist fought on. I’d face no ghosts, no ogres, no demons. It would be so easy. Easy, and cowardly.

  My heart thumped louder even as I thought those words, but I hurried after Takeo.

  I reached him near the oak tree just as its kami disappeared back into it. Takeo turned to me. He’d pulled his hair back into its formal knot, and even though his human clothes were dust-smudged and his expression weary, he looked as gallant as always.

  “I’m staying,” I said before he could speak. “With you and Chiyo and the others. I’m going to keep fighting.”

  His lips parted soundlessly. But he couldn’t have been completely surprised after he’d seen me in the midst of the battle.

  “You promised you’d go home,” he said after a moment.

  “I didn’t promise,” I said. The anguished look he gave me made my throat tighten. I folded my arms over my chest. “I only said I would. I changed my mind.”

  “Sora—”

  “Do you think I’d want to live knowing I was letting you and Chiyo and everyone else fight my battles—die in my battles—for me?” I interrupted. “We did something good, Haru and Keiji and me, didn’t we? There will be fewer ghosts next time because we banished some. Maybe even one or two kami survived who wouldn’t have without us drawing some of their attackers away. I know not all of them made it back.”

  He lowered his gaze. “Some of those who joined us... I should have realized they would not have the capability to withstand the ghosts in that number.”

  “But I can, for at least a little while.” I dropped my voice. “You keep calling Tokyo my ‘home.’ It isn’t. Mt. Fuji is. Even if I never set foot on the mountain again, it’s the only true home I have. And if we don’t save it, any other home I could make will be ruined too. We lost Sage Rin. The only other kami we can find have no practice fighting. Chiyo’s going to need every bit of help she can get if she’s going to make the prophecy come true. I only agreed to give up because I was scared, and I’m still scared, but I’m a lot more scared of what will happen if I let that stop me from doing everything I can.”

  A quiver had crept into my voice. I paused, fingering the silky amulet that hung from my neck. A sweet floral scent wafted from it. “I have this now,” I said. “Haru gave me and Keiji two of the extras he bought. I think they repelled the ghosts enough that they couldn’t attack us with ki. We won’t be defenseless.”

  “You could still be hurt again,” Takeo said.

  “Even if I am, even if I... die, it’d still be better than standing by and letting Omori win.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “I know,” I said. “But can you accept it?”

  The moment stretched on. Then he sighed. “I’ll have to, won’t I? It’s not my place to order you around. I know we need any help that’s offered. But I—I hope you’ll be careful, Sora.”

  “I will be,” I said.

  “I only wish...” He trailed off, but I thought I knew how he’d have finished that sentence. If only I weren’t human. If only we didn’t have to worry that one bullet, one swipe of a blade could kill me.

  “Only two more treasures,” I said. “Two more, and this will be over.”

  Takeo nodded. “I need to teach Chiyo how to handle that sword most effectively. It is incredibly powerful, but... the ghosts know how to weaken us. The weapons they came at us with were stained with blood from elsewhere. If even one got too close to her...”

  I’d noticed that about the weapons they’d carried before. “Omori must have learned how much spilled blood weakens kami.”

  “He knows far more than I like,” Takeo said. “I’m thinking perhaps we should risk going back to Tokyo for the jewel next.”

  I frowned. “But Ise is so much closer, and the mirror will do more to protect Chiyo.”

  “Exactly,” Takeo said with a grim smile as we started to stroll back around the building. “It makes more sense. It’s what we already planned. So it’s possible the demon will send the bulk of his force there next, leaving the Imperial Palace less defended. I think the chance is worth the lost time. All the same, we should leave right away. The journey will take at least half a day.”

  Keiji walked out of the forest at the edge of the shrine grounds ahead of us. He was either too distracted to notice us, or we were too hard to see in the deeper darkness cast by the roof’s curved awning. He stared down at a silvery object clenched in his hand—his phone, I recognized after a second. Then he looked back toward the woods, his arm rising as if he meant to throw it away. His jaw twitched. He shook his head and shoved the phone back into his pocket before stalking off to rejoin the group out front. Another argument with his brother, I guessed.

  We followed him into the front courtyard a minute later. The kami, sprawled across the platform and the grass at its foot, looked as defeated as before. Chiyo was smiling, but she was leaning into Haru’s arms, as if too tired to stand on her own.

  Takeo stepped onto the platform. “I know we’ve been through a lot tonight,” he said. “But we must press on to Tokyo as soon as possible. We can’t afford to wait until morning.”

  Wait until morning. The phrase sparked a memory of our conversation outside the train station. “Wait,” I said. “We don’t have to travel to Tokyo by our own power. Th
ere’s a train that goes straight there from Nagoya—faster than any of us can run. We could rest now and catch the first one in the morning, and get there at least as early, without expending anywhere near as much energy.”

  Takeo blinked as if he couldn’t quite make sense of my words. It probably would never have occurred to him that kami might travel using human machines. Until tonight, it might not have occurred to me. But why shouldn’t we? If the kami stayed ethereal and shifted Keiji and me too, we didn’t even need to worry about tickets. No one would see us there.

  “Yes,” Takeo said slowly. “Yes, that would be possible. Good thinking, Sora. Then for now we will rest.”

  “That’s it?” Chiyo said. She raised the sacred sword in the air. “We took on all those ghosts and won—I think we deserve a little victory party. How do kami celebrate?”

  Part of me balked, but I noticed the other kami raising their heads at her suggestion. Maybe a celebration was just what we needed, to lift our spirits before the next challenge that awaited us.

  “We dance,” I said.

  We lit a campfire amid the white pebbles of the yard’s central path. The oak kami arrived with a basket of wineberries, which he passed around the circle. I palmed a few gratefully. The tart juice burst in my mouth, easing the hunger pangs I’d managed to drown out until now.

  Across the fire from me, Keiji gestured to Haru’s katana and pulled an exaggerated face of shock and awe. Haru chuckled in his reticent way, and Keiji laughed too. He leaned back on his hands, tipping his face toward the indigo sky. Whatever had upset him earlier, he appeared to have put it behind him.

  Takeo turned to me. “To dance we need music. Do you have your flute?”

  “I had to leave it in Tokyo,” I said, and he nodded as if it didn’t matter.

  The petite kami with petal-like curls of hair stepped onto the platform. The bush warbler and the finch fluttered onto her shoulders. She opened her mouth, and a high, shimmering voice pealed out in a wordless song. The birds joined in with a lilting harmony. And the rest of the kami in the courtyard, in all their forms, started to dance.