by M. H. Bonham
The cobblestones felt smooth and well worn to her pads. They smelled clean compared to the heavy incense within the demon room. She could still smell the oni, and turning to sniff her coat, she realized her fur was heavy with the stench of demon. She wanted to stop and clean herself right there, but it was too dangerous. She decided instead to continue.
Not until she had gotten to the familiar alleyways and streets where her family’s apartments were did she slow. The streets were full of beggars, dogs, samurai, and other hazards, and she couldn’t risk getting waylaid with such important news. Only when she arrived at the back door did she pause. Looking around first, she then began to morph.
She became larger than a regular cat—about the size of a small panther. Then her skin and shape began to change. The hair disappeared and her skin grew pink. Her thick body became thinner, and her legs grew long. When she was done, a lovely naked woman with long black hair and dark eyes stood where the cat had been. She flipped open the latch on the door and entered.
“What are you doing?”
Kasumi nearly jumped at the woman’s voice. Before her stood an older version of herself, her mother Naotaka Keiko Neko. The woman wore the regal robes of a samurai wife and frowned as she studied the girl. She sniffed the air, and her frown deepened. “Oni?”
“Yes, Mother, I saw a demon tonight.”
“Kasumi-chan, that was dangerous, child.” Keiko pulled a kimono from the hook that hung just inside the door and handed it to her. “You must be cold.”
“Mother, Nanashi summoned the demon.” Kasumi shrugged into the kimono and tied the belt.
The older woman studied her. “How do you know this?”
“I was there. Nanashi summoned the oni in one of his private rooms. He used sandalwood and cedar and really heavy incense.”
“Why did Nanashi summon it?”
Kasumi shook her head. “He wants to bring in an army of demons. He wants to become emperor.”
A silence ensued. Kasumi saw worry crease her mother’s brow. “There has been talk for many years of Nanashi’s dabbling in the dark arts, but we’ve had no proof. Until now…” Keiko turned and scrutinized Kasumi. “You really stink of demon. You should wash up immediately.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“And where were you when he summoned it? Did the demon see you?”
“I was in my small form, curled up tightly behind one of the baskets.” Kasumi frowned. “Do you think it saw me?”
Keiko shook her head, but she was clearly worried. “Child, demons can see behind things and around things. They can see through our forms.”
“Why didn’t it tell Nanashi?” Kasumi felt her stomach clench as fear gripped her.
Keiko sighed. “My guess is the demon didn’t see fit to tell Nanashi, but that may change.”
“Mother, the demon told Nanashi of the demon gate. The demon wants Nanashi to kill our clan.”
Another silence followed.
“No,” whispered Keiko. “No.”
“Mother?” Kasumi gripped her mother’s arm.
Keiko shook her head. “Go get cleaned up, Daughter. I must talk to Isamu, who can tell us what we must do.” She turned and led Kasumi through the apartment halls to the door to the bathhouse. “Do not say anything about this. I must talk to Isamu first.”
Kasumi nodded and left the apartment.
Chapter Four
Akira sat on the hill overlooking the town of Yutsui. Below him lay the terraced rice fields and, above that, the tea terraces. He sat silently, watching the farmers and peasants working for their living. He envied their lives. Their day and the type of work they did was prescribed by their class. Unlike samurai, who could not own the land, the farmers were landowners and their livelihood assured, barring war, famine, or disease. Not so with the samurai. For even a son of a daimyo, like Akira, was not guaranteed his holdings or his importance. The emperor could take all away with a decree.
He rubbed his arms and legs where Rokuro had given him bruises. His leg still stung from Rokuro’s bo, and he wished he could make the pain stop. Why was Rokuro so rough on him? Why did the old sensei insist on forcing him past his limit? What was the point? He closed his eyes and let the afternoon sun warm his face. Maybe if he stayed up here for a while and no one could find him, Rokuro wouldn’t look for him to start his afternoon lesson.
As he closed his eyes, he heard the distinct caw of a crow. He looked up to see the black bird sitting in a stray pine tree on the path. He smiled. The crow was the bird of the sun goddess, Amaterasu. Perhaps the goddess pitied him. The crow tilted its head and hopped down from one branch to another. It cocked its head as if considering him.
“Sorry, crow, but I have nothing to give to you,” Akira said. “I didn’t bring any rice cakes with me today.”
The bird ruffled its feathers in response. Akira laughed.
The bird hopped down to the ground. Akira watched as the bird boldly strutted up to him and considered him with its bright yellow eyes. It then cocked its head, and Akira heard a voice in his mind.
You are injured, the creature observed.
Akira stared at the crow. “Y—yes…”
Why?
Now Akira felt befuddled. The bird was obviously supernatural, but he didn’t know what to think. He tried to remember old legends his mother taught him about birds, but for some reason, they seemed to be lacking. “I didn’t do well in training today.”
Training?
“Yes, I’m samurai. I am supposed to know how to fight.”
Ah, perhaps the problem you have is easily fixed. I could show you.
Akira almost laughed. How could a bird possibly help him? He couldn’t imagine the little crow would know anything. But, he reminded himself, this was obviously some sort of kami and he should show respect to it. “You would show me how to…?”
I could show you the proper way to use a bokken.
Akira nodded. He couldn’t imagine that he could get into trouble with that. “All right. What do I need to do?”
Follow me. With that, the bird flitted to the next tree up the mountain.
Akira groaned as he pulled himself up from sitting. His legs were stiff and sore, and he limped a little as he walked up the path. The bird waited patiently for him and took off once he reached the tree, up toward the mountain. He groaned again. The walk would be tedious and painful. It would be easier to trudge back down to the training yard and endure another round of Rokuro’s lessons.
The bird cawed once as he stood there, uncertain. It is not far, little samurai. I promise you will enjoy what I have to show you.
It wasn’t every day a crow talked to him. Curious, Akira took several steps forward despite his pain and followed the bird as it encouraged him higher up the mountain and deeper into the forest. The road dwindled and became a footpath. Akira wondered if anyone would look for him.
After what seemed a very long climb, the path broke out into a fairly flat meadow. He stopped to catch his breath and saw the bird watching him. He bent down and rubbed his legs again. He hoped it wouldn’t be very far. But just as he was about to give up, he saw the bird fly down from the tree. Much to his amazement, the bird grew. It took on the body of a man but had the wings and head of the raven. It was dressed like a samurai with an overcoat and trousers and carried both swords tied to its obi.
Akira stared. “What manner of creature are you?”
The bird-man laughed. “I’m a Karasu-tengu. Haven’t you heard of one?”
Akira blinked. The word Tengu sounded familiar, but for what reason, he couldn’t imagine. “I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “I think I’ve heard of them, but I can’t say.”
The Tengu seemed to not be affronted. Instead, he considered Akira with his bright yellow eyes. “You’re not doing well at martial arts?”
Akira shook his head. He knew it’d do no good to lie to this creature since it was obviously kami. The creature was a shapeshifter and could have watched him practice wi
th Rokuro. “It’s not that I’m terrible,” he said. “It’s just that Rokuro sensei demands so much from me.”
Two wooden bokken appeared in the Tengu’s hands. He tossed one to Akira, who caught it, much to his surprise. The Tengu slid the bokken in his obi and stood ready to bow. Akira faced him and together they bowed. Both Akira and the Tengu took the ready stance.
The Tengu began first with a simple attack, choosing an overhead strike similar to those that samurai often used. Akira stepped out of the way, as Rokuro had taught him, and made a basic counterattack. The Tengu nodded and repeated the attack. Akira countered again.
The Tengu sped up the attack and forced Akira to move quickly. His arms ached as he blocked and countered each attack. It seemed so basic, yet Akira felt slow and clumsy. The Tengu moved quicker, and Akira overcompensated and lost his footing. He fell into the dirt and dropped the wooden sword as he did.
“You’re slow and stiff,” said the Tengu with an appraising eye,
Akira grunted as he got up and dusted himself off as best he could. His clothes were dirty but thankfully not muddy. The Tengu’s voice held none of the harshness that Rokuro’s had. “What should I do?”
“Get smoother,” the Tengu remarked. “Do you stretch?”
Akira nodded but the constant training made him sore despite the stretching. The Tengu bowed and put the bokken in his obi. Akira started to bow, but the Tengu motioned him forward. Akira slipped the wooden sword in his belt and approached the kami. The Tengu rubbed his arms with his claw-like hands. They felt rough and powerful, and Akira fought the urge to run. Instead, he stood there as the Tengu put pressure on his muscles with his long nails. The pain was excruciating, but Akira could soon feel his muscles relax under the creature’s hands. Then the Tengu worked on his legs, especially the leg that collapsed under Rokuro’s attacks. The pain subsided and Akira felt as though he could stand and his leg would hold his weight.
“How do you feel?” The Tengu cocked his head to study Akira.
Akira slowly stretched and found the knots were gone. Though still stiff, he was nowhere near as inflexible as he had been. “Better.”
“Good. Now try again.”
Akira stood in ready position. The Tengu started with his first attack, a slashing, overhead attack that cut from high left to lower right. This time Akira stepped aside and blocked the blow, catching the Tengu’s blade and letting it slide down his wooden sword. He twisted his bokken upward and caught the Tengu’s exposed side.
“Good.” The Tengu clacked his beak. “Again.” The Tengu tried an upward cut. Akira dropped and rolled as the bokken whirled overhead. He lunged into the Tengu, forcing his wooden sword into the Tengu’s abdomen.
So the sparring went. Akira made mistakes but quickly corrected them. Before long, he could see he was faster and less stiff, his movement more fluid. For the first time, he felt real joy in training and laughed as the Tengu tried more difficult moves. He blocked each move and either slipped inside the Tengu’s defense or skipped away before the Tengu could bring the bokken down on him.
Finally the Tengu raised a hand in a motion for him to stop, and Akira stood, panting and drenched in sweat. The Tengu, Akira noticed, showed no signs of fatigue. “You’ve done well for today,” the Tengu said.
“Thank you.” Akira bowed. He wiped the sweat beads from his eyes and really felt the cold mountain air, which he hadn’t noticed during the training. He shivered, wishing he had brought a coat or some other warmer clothing.
The Tengu bowed. “It was my pleasure, Takeshi Akira.”
Akira started. “How do you know my name?”
Although he couldn’t quite tell, he thought the Tengu might be smiling. “The Tengu are wind kami. We control the winds. The winds have told us much about a young samurai named Akira. We wanted to see for ourselves.”
“We?” Akira bit his lip. “There are more of you?”
“Oh, yes,” said the Tengu. “But don’t be concerned about that.” He glanced up at the sky then turned back to Akira. “It is growing late, and your sensei will be looking for you to begin your training again.”
Akira groaned. He was exhausted and didn’t relish the long hike down the mountain. Rokuro would certainly punish him again for being so tired. “Thank you. I better go now.”
“Wait. I have a gift for you.” The Tengu pulled out an earthenware flask and handed it to him. “Drink this.”
“What is it?” Akira eyed the flask suspiciously.
“It will give you energy and make your muscles less sore.”
The Tengu handed it to Akira, who drank the liquid. It tasted remarkably like tea sweetened with honey and herbs that he couldn’t place. Yet as he drank, he began to feel warm inside and less tired.
The Tengu nodded in approval. “Now if you wish my help in your training, you must keep our lessons a secret. Can you do this?”
Akira nodded, unable to believe his luck. A kami would be teaching him the basics of martial arts. He could barely speak in his excitement. “I will! I won’t tell anyone about this.”
“Good. Come here tomorrow at the same time. We’ll work on your bokken some more.” With that, the Tengu disappeared.
Akira drank the rest of the elixir. With a joyous cry, he started down the mountain, feeling as though he could fly down to home below.
Chapter Five
It was nearly midnight when Keiko entered the Neko shrine on the far side of the island. An old shrine considered long abandoned, its crumbling stone walls were covered with climbing vines and bamboo. The writing across the stone was illegible, worn from the weather of thousands of years. The door, still intact, had rust coating the hinges and the bronze had oxidized to a pale green. Keiko smiled as she pushed against the doors. While humans had abandoned this shrine, there were other denizens within.
The door groaned inward. She pushed through, half surprised to see the oil lamps lit and catch the musky scent of incense wafting through the entry. Keiko slipped inside and looked around. To a human, it would look dark and barren. But to a kami, the temple shone as it truly was—bright and full of gold and bronze.
She considered the temple with her human sight. A human would see throngs of feral cats within. But a kami—a full kami—would see the world as it truly was. Men and women, adorned in the finest clothing, filled the bright temple where a statue of Maneki Neko, the cat of good fortune, sat. She bowed to the cat god and saw that the other Neko were looking curiously at her.
“Keiko-san?”
She turned around and saw a priest in yellow robes. He was small and frail, but she looked beyond that and into his sea green eyes. “Isamu-sama,” she whispered. She bowed low.
He bowed as well. “Keiko-san.” He took her hands in his. They were warm and dry. “What brings you to Maneki Neko’s temple, child?”
“My daughter,” she said softly.
“Kasumi, the half-blood, yes?”
She nodded once. “She was where she shouldn’t be—in Nanashi’s private rooms.”
Isamu raised an eyebrow. “Come with me.”
She nodded hurriedly and followed the man toward one of the alcoves within the temple. She smiled as she saw Maneki Neko painted across the temple’s walls. They would need Maneki Neko’s help in this, she thought.
“What is it that she saw, Keiko-san?”
“She saw Nanashi summon an oni.”
Silence ensued. The priest frowned. A bell rang over by the dais, and the Neko turned and began their prayers. Isamu didn’t move; his catlike eyes became slits. Keiko saw no other emotion in the old priest.
A lesser Neko might have mistaken the priest’s silence for one of incredulity or perhaps of deference or confusion, but Keiko knew better. She could see the telltale flicker of the nictitating membranes that signaled his inward mindspeak with the high priestess. Keiko and even Kasumi could mindspeak, but the distance was greatly limited. Only the oldest and most powerful of the Neko shamans could speak across islands.
“She is my daughter. She may be half-kami, but she is all Neko,” Keiko said softly. “Her face was terribly pale. I know she saw what she said she saw.”
“Then the oni know that we know,” Isamu said. “Your daughter has risked us all in her curiosity.”
Keiko felt anger well in her stomach, and her throat tightened. “No, Guardian. We are already threatened. Kasumi says that Nanashi brought the demon into this world to find a way to become emperor. He wants to bring oni through the demon gate….” Her voice trailed off as the old priest turned his back on her. “Surely you believe me?”
Isamu turned back to her, his fragile face tight and worried. “Keiko, you speak of demons. For thousands of years, we’ve guarded the demon gate. Surely Nanashi isn’t powerful enough to open another gate.”
“But there have been stories of sorcerers who have opened small portals,” she objected. “You remember such times, surely, Guardian Kanayo.”
Isamu shook his head. “I remember well, Keiko-chan. It was a dark time when the demon summoners walked the earth. Are you saying that you think your daughter really saw a summoning? That it wasn’t a trick of light or an illusion?”
“Kasumi can change, just as we can,” she said. “She can see through illusions of men just as you or I. If she says she saw an oni, I would believe her.”
“How did she get into Nanashi’s apartments?”
“As a Neko.”
“And he did not detect her?”
Keiko shook her head. “If he did, he wouldn’t have let her slip into the room. She can take a form of a tiny cat if necessary.”
A silence ensued. Isamu closed his eyes, and Keiko watched the unspoken conversation between the priest and the Guardian. When Isamu opened his eyes, she could see there was a resolution. “Daughter, you did well to tell us this. If Nanashi does intend to destroy us, then we had best find allies who can help us.”
