by Megan Crewe
Yes. The sentiment washed over me with a certainty that reverberated through my bones.
“We’re never going to be kami,” he added. “But that doesn’t mean we’re nothing.”
“Of course,” I said. I’d done my part. If not for me, after all, Takeo and Chiyo might still be locked in the keep.
“Haru!” Chiyo called, and he waved to her. We were just getting up when a slender figure solidified at the edge of the yard and stumbled toward us.
“Sora!” she cried, holding out her spindly arms. “Sora!”
“Ayame!” I leapt forward to meet her. Her hair was tangled, and the indigo robe she’d been wearing when she applied my birthday make-up was torn and stained. But her embrace was firm as she caught me up.
“You got away from the ghosts,” I said, hugging her back tightly. The words couldn’t tumble out fast enough. “How did you know where we were? Are Mother, Father, everyone—”
“Still trapped,” she gasped against my shoulder. “I almost didn’t— I haven’t stopped running since— If they caught me—” Her thin voice cut off with a shudder. “I wish I could have freed them all, Sora, but I knew it would be hard enough escaping on my own, and the most important thing was finding you.”
She pulled back and held up her hand. A thick black hair circled her index finger. As she touched my cheek with it, it dissolved against my skin. “From your brush,” she said. “I had it with me when they attacked. Your hair led me to you.”
Takeo’s remark about magic came back to me: Blood sings to blood, heart to heart, spirit to spirit. Every part of me was singing just seeing my honorary auntie safe.
The others had gathered around us. Ayame glanced away from me, and her gaze veered straight to Chiyo. Her tiny frame stiffened as she stared. Then she reached out to touch one of Chiyo’s wavy lavender ponytails. I half expected her to criticize Chiyo’s choice of hair color. Instead, her eyes teared up.
“It’s true,” she murmured. “I heard the ghosts say there was another girl, that Their Highnesses had exchanged their daughter for a human to protect her, but I could hardly believe—”
Her eyes darted back to me. I could feel the lack of ki in my body as if I were a hollowed-out tree. Dread dampened my joy. “It’s true,” she said again. “Sora, you’re—”
“I know,” I said, more sharply than I meant to. Ayame didn’t seem to notice. She’d already returned her attention to Chiyo, bowing low.
“It’s an honor to meet you,” she said.
“Who are you?” Chiyo asked, her eyebrows arched in amusement.
“She is one of the mountain’s kami,” Takeo said. “One of your parents’ most devoted subjects.”
“Ayame,” Ayame said with another bow.
“Well, I’m Ik—” Chiyo caught herself as if realizing for the first time that her last name no longer applied. “I’m Chiyo. Pleased to meet you too.”
“What’s happening on the mountain right now?” I said, cutting in. “What is the demon doing? How did you get away, Ayame?”
She hesitated. I didn’t understand why until Chiyo nodded and said, “Yes, tell us everything,” and Ayame drew in a breath. To tell her.
Because I didn’t count anymore.
I hadn’t thought my heart could break any more than it already had. Apparently I was wrong. It felt as though it had just cracked down the middle. But even if it was only Chiyo’s opinion Ayame cared about now, I needed to hear this.
“It’s awful,” Ayame said. “Bad enough, being so close to so many of the dead, but then the ghosts brought their bloody nets and ropes and smeared the walls of our beautiful palace with more of that dreadful stuff, until we could all barely breathe. Most of us couldn’t move after a few hours. I only got away because I was lucky. The demon sent some of the ghosts to look for kami who would do as they asked. I said I would, just to see what would happen, and they let a few of us start to recover in a room they’d left clean. They didn’t think much of me, a little woman with combs and pins, until I stabbed them with my hair sticks and ran. I don’t know how I made it. Fuji must have lent me strength.”
“We’re glad you reached us safely,” Takeo said gravely.
“Pretty stupid of Omori,” Chiyo said. “Why would any kami want to help him after everything he’s done?”
Ayame’s face pinched. “It’s not so much wanting as... Your mother and father. The demon has ordered that they be tortured. He’s weakening them until he can kill them. And we can hear them, their cries... There are those among us who won’t be able to stop themselves. We’ve held out so long, but the worse it gets, the harder it is for them to resist. They would sooner accept the demon’s demands than let one of our rulers die.”
Understanding struck me like a kick to the gut. That possibility hadn’t occurred to me, but if it meant saving Mother or Father, even Takeo would agree to anything. His sense of loyalty would overcome all logic. Omori was using the kami’s natures against them.
Mrs. Kobayashi had said he was good at “persuading” people to do what he wanted, hadn’t she? I suppressed a cringe. So he was torturing Mother and Father, over and over... Closing my eyes couldn’t shut out the images Ayame’s story had conjured in my head.
“What does he want the kami to do anyway?” Chiyo asked.
“That’s the worst part of it,” Ayame said. “When they first came, the demon demanded that we bring them all back to life, him and his ghosts. Your mother tried to explain that we don’t have that sort of power—all we could do for a spirit that seemed worthy was let it share the life of another being for a time. And then the demon asked about sharing life with another human.”
Takeo startled. “That can’t be done. It isn’t done.”
“It isn’t done,” Ayame agreed. “And she told him that. But he insisted we try. He thinks, during the days of the dead when their power is strongest, it will work.”
My skin had gone cold. When a spirit was given to an animal, like Mrs. Omori’s sparrow, the bird’s life remained, but the human spirit could see and feel all it did and direct it when it wished. That was how Mrs. Omori had followed us. If a human spirit were put into another, living human—what would happen to the spirit already there?
“He’s readying us for his first attempt right now,” Ayame said. “That’s why he was letting some of us regain our ki. And if he’s happy with the outcome, he says he wants living bodies for every one of the ghosts with him come Obon.”
19
I WAS in the middle of a dream full of ghosts and blood and tortured screams when someone shook me awake. I flinched, my hand darting to Takeo’s short sword. Then I made out Ayame’s worried face in the faint pre-dawn light.
“What’s wrong?” I said, sitting up. It was too early for us to be leaving to catch the train to Ise. When I’d gone to sleep, I’d chosen one of the sanctuary’s smaller rooms so I could be alone. Now I wished I could see Takeo and Chiyo to know they were all right.
Ayame was wringing her hands. “I was so relieved to find you that I completely forgot until now. I woke up and remembered that I hadn’t told you.”
“Told me what?” I said.
“To prepare for his test of transferring spirits, the demon sent some of his ghosts to collect people they found apart from the tourist crowds on the mountain,” she said. “They were keeping those captives in the room next to the one where they were letting the few of us kami recover. There was one middle-aged couple I heard them dragging in—the wife was saying they only wanted their daughter, that she’d been living in the palace with the kami.”
Her frantic eyes met mine directly for the first time since she’d realized what I was—and what I wasn’t—last night. My mouth went dry.
The Ikedas. My birth parents. When we’d spoken with them, we’d left out the details of the threat the mountain faced, let them believe their daughter was still there. At the time it had seemed simpler that way.
But they hadn’t wanted to wait any longer, and th
ey’d gone looking for me.
They must have realized there would be some danger involved, but they’d been willing to risk it. To get me back. I brought my hands to my face. Now they were trapped along with the kami, waiting to be used as—what was the word Tomoya had used?—specimens in Omori’s horrible experiment.
“Have you mentioned it to anyone else?” I asked. As soon as Chiyo knew, it’d be like yesterday at the keep. She loved her human parents as much as she loved Haru. She’d drop everything to try to rescue them.
Maybe that wouldn’t be so awful. If Omori was focusing all his energies on the most crucial obstacle to his plans, he’d have sent almost all of his force to Ise, so there might not be many ghosts patrolling in the palace itself. From Ayame’s earlier description, the kami were so subdued no guards were really needed now. If we skipped Ise and charged straight to the mountain—
No. My stomach lurched. Then we’d be going in without the sacred mirror. According to Rin’s vision, Chiyo needed it with her to save the mountain. If the prophecy is not fulfilled, failure is certain.
If she faced the demon now, he might hurt her so badly she’d never recover in time for Obon. He might even kill her. Too many other lives depended on her.
On her.
Ayame was shaking her head. “I thought you were the one who should know. They were looking for you. But that’s true—Chiyo, they raised her. Of course.”
“Don’t tell her,” I said quickly.
“But...” Ayame started.
“Don’t tell anyone,” I repeated more firmly. I grasped Ayame’s wrist. “Chiyo has a duty to carry out. We can’t distract her from that. If she rushes over there unprepared, there’s no way she can defeat the demon. Do you see?”
After a long moment, Ayame nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “It wouldn’t do to worry her.”
“Thank you,” I said, and paused. “The room you were in, where was it in the palace?”
“At the front,” Ayame said, looking puzzled. “About halfway between the main entrance and the hallway leading to your chambers.”
I nodded, and she took the gesture as a dismissal. As she slipped out, I stared past her toward the faint glow behind the paper panels.
If I’d told the Ikedas who I really was when we were at their house, they would never have gone to the mountain. I’d been thinking only of myself, of my pain, not even considering their feelings. They’d wanted to see me so badly, and now they could lose their lives to Omori’s ghosts before the day was out.
Chiyo couldn’t take the risk of rescuing them, but I had no part in the prophecy. I didn’t really matter in the grand plan to save Mt. Fuji. My human parents needed me. Maybe it was time I found something useful I could do on my own instead of tagging after the kami with my meager contributions. Chiyo and Takeo could go for the mirror as they’d intended, and I could go to the mountain and try to extricate the Ikedas from the fate I’d accidentally led them into.
The ghosts would pay no mind to a human girl. From what Ayame had said about the rooms, I should be able to reach them quickly after I entered the palace. Maybe I could even learn more about Omori while I was there. And if I failed, Chiyo and the others would fight on without me.
At least I’d have tried to set things right.
I stood gingerly to prevent the boards from creaking under my weight. If I left now while the others were sleeping, I could avoid the explanations and arguments and all that lost time.
I pulled out one of my ofuda and scrawled a quick message on the back. I’ve found another way to help. I’ll meet you in Ise. Leaving it on the floor where I’d been sleeping, I scooped up my satchel and slipped into the hall. I darted around the corner and sprinted the last short distance to the front entrance—
—and nearly tripped over Keiji.
He was sitting on the front steps, his chin propped on his hands. When I caught myself, he glanced up, and we both froze. Cautiously, he eased onto his feet.
“Where are you going?” he said.
“A walk,” I said, throwing out the first lie that came to me. “I couldn’t sleep any more.”
He studied me through the panes of his glasses. “No,” he said. “You’re leaving.”
His careful scrutiny made my heart thump. “It’s none of your business what I’m doing,” I said, keeping my voice low.
He hesitated. Then he said, “Takeo might think it’s his.”
“Well, it isn’t.”
But if Keiji went to him, there was no way I could outrun a kami.
“If you tell me where you’re really going,” Keiji said, “I won’t tell him. I won’t tell anyone.”
I couldn’t sense whether he meant it, but I had to leave before this conversation caught someone else’s notice.
“I’m going to Mt. Fuji,” I said. “Ayame saw the Ikedas there. They went looking for me, and the ghosts caught them. I’m going to get them back.”
I braced for a debate, but Keiji just looked at me a few seconds longer, his expression strained. Then he lowered his head.
“Good luck,” he said.
As I left him behind and raced across the shrine grounds, a strange little ache formed behind my ribs, as if part of me wished he’d said more.
Beyond the walls, cars were roaring down the street. Even this early, the city kept moving. I halted by the gate, abruptly uncertain. It would take days to reach Mt. Fuji with no ki to hasten my feet.
A city bus rattled by, and I could have laughed at myself if I hadn’t been so worried. Of course. I could get to the mountain the same way any other human would—I just had to find the right station.
A couple of hours later, I was sitting on a tour bus roaring up toward the drop-off spot partway up the mountain. The vehicle was less crowded than I’d expected. I knew from watching tourists arrive in past summers that the buses were usually packed during the peak season, but only half the seats around me were taken. I had a pretty good idea why. The woman in front of me had turned to her husband not long after we’d left the station, her brow knit, and said with a Hakata accent, “The hotel clerk said they’ve felt several tremors recently. You don’t think there’ll be another earthquake, do you?”
“I’m sure if there were any serious danger, they wouldn’t be running the tour routes,” he’d replied, sliding his arm around her shoulder. “There’s always a little risk.”
I guessed a lot of the other tourists had decided the risk wasn’t worth it.
I couldn’t make out any ghostlights between the trees beside the road, but I was sure at least a few of Omori’s followers were there, keeping watch. I’d tucked my amulet under my shirt and the sheath of the short sword inside my pants, tugging the bottom of the blouse low to hide it.
During the journey, I’d worked out the details of my plan as much as I could. I’d make my way to the hidden opening in the mountain as if I were just another tourist wandering off the paths. Then I would sneak in and find the room where the human prisoners were being kept. I’d free the prisoners and hurry them back out. Once we were outside again, any ghosts who happened across us might not even realize we were escapees. As long as I didn’t run into more ghosts than I could banish with my ofuda, it could work.
But only if I took Omori’s strategy of narrowing my focus. I hated the thought of all the kami suffering in the palace, but I’d seen how weak Chiyo and Takeo had become after just a few hours surrounded by gore. I couldn’t possibly carry even one kami out without being noticed. A lump had formed at the base of my throat when I’d considered that, one I couldn’t swallow down.
Chiyo would come for them tomorrow, I told myself, with everything she needed to fulfill the prophecy and reclaim the mountain. I was making sure of that by doing this in her place.
When the bus jerked to a halt in the parking lot, I hopped out with the other passengers. They all headed into the courtyard with its snack booths and shops. Tour guides barked instructions to their groups and engines growled as more cars an
d buses pulled in. Fewer people might be traveling to Mt. Fuji this week, but its main stop was still busy.
My pulse thudded as I slipped away to the edge of the parking lot. I stopped where the concrete gave way to earth, and for one instant, my apprehension vanished. The wind rustled along the branches of the pines and birches I’d played amongst as a child and whipped through my hair, welcoming me home with the smells of dirt and stone and everything that lived upon it. The sensation was so achingly familiar that tears sprang to my eyes.
I blinked them away. I had no time to revel in this homecoming. Omori might start his “test” at any moment.
I strode across the stretch of grass by the side of the road and ducked into the forest. Twigs crackled under my heavy human feet. Other than the noise I was making and the whisper of the wind, the mountain seemed strangely quiet. No birds called overhead; no insects buzzed through the air. Had they all fled when Omori’s army had come?
As I picked my way down the slope into the thicker forest, I glimpsed a few glints of light hovering amid the trees. There were the ghosts. I didn’t think there were anywhere near so many here as when they’d first attacked the mountain, but there could be dozens my human eyes were missing. The sweat dampening my skin turned cold in spite of the intense summer heat.
I walked on, schooling my gaze to skim over any ghostlights I noticed. As long as they didn’t know I’d seen them, they wouldn’t realize there was anything odd about me.
When the gurgling of water reached my ears, I paused and wiped my forehead. Was that the palace spring?
A ghostlight drifted close to me, barely visible amid the sunbeams. If I hadn’t been watching for them, I wouldn’t have realized it was anything supernatural. I walked onward as if I hadn’t seen it, resisting the urge to cringe as the edge of it brushed my shoulder. My hand dropped to rest over the ofuda in my pocket. The ghost must have decided I seemed harmless, though, because after a few more seconds it glided away.
