by T. Isilwath
“Good,” she announced.
He sat up and inspected the wound. All that remained was a thin, pink line where the threads had tied his flesh together, and he knew even that would be gone within a month because his demon blood prevented him from scarring.
The burn marks from where the other two arrows had pierced his body would soon be nothing more than a couple of darker patches on his skin. The longest a scar had ever lasted was three months before it faded completely.
Tucking the kosode back into the waistband of his nobakama field pants, he gave her an expectant look and waited to see what she would do next.
“Belly wound healed well,” she said.
“Yeah. I heal fast.”
“Yes.”
“Should I make the oven?” he asked, indicating where he’d begun to dig.
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He looked at her, placing his hand where the stitches used to be, and smiled softly. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.”
He returned to digging the oven and soon had it ready, but it would be a while before the stones were hot enough. He watched the fire while Johrannah went to catch fish for their morning meal and waited for her to return.
‘I should do some hunting. I’ll catch her a goose. A goose will last a while.’
The fire popped and he poked it, making sure the rocks stayed covered.
When they were ready, Johrannah would place them in the bottom of the pit, cover them with wet leaves, and put the ducks in. Then she would cover the whole thing up with cloth and soil, and the steam would cook the ducks. Or at least, that was his understanding of how it would work. Being that he’d never actually seen such a thing done before, he couldn’t attest to its success. The only baking he knew of was done in clay or metal ovens with a fire underneath.
The thought of ovens made him remember that he had been gone from the village for nearly five days now, and while he was certain that no one was missing him, he ought to go back and let them know he was still alive. No doubt word would have spread about the exterminators and the oni-gumo, although he was sure that the villagers would leave out the part about them abandoning him as soon as there was danger. They had probably assumed that he had been killed and would be very surprised to see him.
He played with the idea of not going back, but decided against it for a number of reasons. First of all was that he had given his word to Genkichirou, and his word was all he possessed. It was one thing for Ichiro and the villagers to bend or break the agreement, but it was another thing entirely for him to break it. Second of all, he didn’t know how long he could stay with Johrannah and, if they had to part, he would have nowhere to go if he didn’t return to the village.
It was best for him to make an appearance, although he would have to be careful with what he told them. He could use some of his powers of illusion to make himself look haggard and sickly, stay a day or two just for appearances’
sake, then come back here. He would have to plan it right so as not to arouse suspicion. No matter what, he could not allow himself to be followed back and reveal Johrannah’s presence. She had been most adamant about staying in the grove and not mingling with others. While he did not understand her reasoning, he did respect it, and he would protect her in whatever way he could, even if it meant going back every couple of days just so someone in the village would see him and think he was still around.
‘I’ll do it even though I don’t want to. Johrannah said I could stay here with her, but I don’t want to put her in danger and I made Genkichirou a promise.’
Johrannah returned with two fish and he perked up his ears happily in anticipation of the coming meal. He hoped she would fry the fish like she had done the previous morning and helpfully offered her the big, black pan as a subtle hint. She smiled at him, but accepted the pan and began to spice the fish in preparation for cooking while he started a second fire on the edge of the fire pit and put the cooking grate on top of it.
They worked seamlessly in silence, but no words were needed. Each just seemed to know what needed to be done without any discussion or direction, and soon they were both eating their fish. It was just as good as yesterday morning, and his stomach thanked him for feeding it such wonderful food. He in turn thanked Johrannah for providing such a delicious meal.
“Duck will be better,” she promised.
He could hardly wait.
He watched her prepare the ducks, blanching them in boiling water and plucking the feathers. Then she salted the birds and stuffed the body cavities with spring onions, garlic and herbs. When they were ready, she set them aside and checked the stones in the fire. They were glowing red hot and looked ready.
He helped her take the rocks out of the fire using a set of metal tongs and a pot, and lined the bottom of the pit with them. Then she took broad leaves that she had soaked in water and placed them over the rocks. He breathed deep as steam began to billow up. She wrapped the ducks in more wet leaves and placed them on top of the first layer of leaves in the pit. The last thing she did was take her rain cloth and cover the pit to trap the steam before burying the whole thing under a hand’s width of soil. Now all that was left was the waiting.
“Akihiro,” she called, and he looked up to see her holding a woven basket.
‘Ah, more foraging.’ Well that was the way it was, wasn’t it. The life of a woods person was all about gathering enough food to survive. She didn’t have a garden or a storehouse, so she needed to forage every day.
‘I should dig her a cache to store food underground. That way she could keep more food longer. The rains are coming, and that will make hunting and gathering harder. I can get miso for pickling from the village, although I’d probably have to steal it.’
He frowned. If he got caught stealing from the village, he’d be severely punished. Plus it wasn’t good to steal from the people you had promised to protect. Actually, it wasn’t good to steal at all, but sometimes it was necessary when there wasn’t any alternative. Miso took many months to make (if Johrannah even knew how), and she needed pickling things now. Edo was to the southeast. He could travel there, disguise himself as a human, and get the things he needed from the market. He could hold an illusion for a short time, probably long enough go in, buy the required items and get out. The problem was money. He didn’t have any, and stealing while trying to hold onto an illusion was tricky at best. If he lost his illusion while still in the city, he would surely be discovered and killed.
‘Where can I get money? I haven’t anything to sell or trade. Maybe Johrannah has some things that could be traded. She has a lot of stuff in her shelter. I’m sure some of it is worth some miso and pickling spice.’
“Akihiro?” she called again, giving him a questioning look.
“Ah! Coming,” he answered, hopping to his feet. He remembered to walk beside her and not follow behind. ‘Because I’m her friend,’ he marveled.
They went to a field where wild herbs grew, and he helped her gather several different types, some seeds and some vegetables. The wheatgrass would be going to seed so there would be grain to be had within the coming weeks. The wild garlic and chives were at their peaks, and he saw her pulling up numerous bulbs and stalks. He noticed that she never took the largest of anything nor did she take all of the plants in a patch. Rather she would select two or three plants from each patch and move on to the next. It seemed odd to him that she wouldn’t harvest all of them, but when he asked her she explained that she was leaving some to live.
Of course, not killing all of the plants made sense if you wanted to make sure there would be food in the future, but she was the first person he’d ever met who actually practiced that. Buddhists touted something similar, but only the most devoted monks and priests actually did it. The common-folk said they read the sutras, but it had been his experience that they didn’t really follow them.
He had noticed that she did. She never took more than she needed and was very choosy in her selection of prey. She had
been very specific when she told him to flush only bachelor male ducks on their hunt, and those were the only ones they killed. She was not wasteful and walked softly upon the earth.
‘She treats everything with reverence, even me.’
He was more than convinced that she was a holy woman. Her knowledge and skills screamed “miko,” and her patience and gentle touch told him that she truly lived her faith. After last night, when she had sung with such a haunting and beautiful voice, he half believed that she was a tennyo in human form. He had heard that the goddesses were beautiful and could sing men’s dreams into reality. But yet her heart beat, and her stomach rumbled with hunger, and she breathed just the same as he… and he doubted a tennyo would have “blood sickness” like Johrannah did.
So perhaps she was not a goddess come down to live among mortals; that didn’t make her any less worthy of his devotion. If anything, the fact that she was a normal human, with no special powers or Divine blood running through her veins, made her all the more special to him because she still treated him as an equal and a friend.
Rustling in the tall grass caught his attention, bringing him out of his thoughts, and he turned his head just in time to see a pheasant take flight.
“Akihiro…” he heard Johrannah call.
“I’m on it!” he called back and leapt after it.
By its coloring he knew it was a cock, and therefore fair game, no pun intended. Pheasants were low flying birds and that worked to his advantage-and the bird’s demise. One swipe and the bird was his, its neck broken and its body lying limp in his hand. He brought it immediately to his companion and offered it to her. She accepted the gift and placed a hand over it, murmuring words and bowing her head. Giving thanks, she called it; thanking the creature for sacrificing itself so that they could eat it. She thanked everything, even the herbs she used to spice the food-these, too, were alive and giving up their lives to be eaten. He had a hard time believing that the garlic they used to stuff the ducks was a conscious being, but who was he to judge?
The pheasant wasn’t the only game he caught on their foray, and he’d snared two rabbits and a grouse by the time they were ready to head back to the grove. He could have easily caught more, but Johrannah called a stop to it because they already had enough to feed them for the next two days. As it was, she talked about smoking the food in order to preserve it.
They walked back, chattering here and there in broken sentences and pantomimes. Johrannah understood more Japanese than she spoke which wasn’t uncommon. Often when a word was heard, it was recognized rather than the listener trying to remember what to say. He tried to speak slowly and clearly, and she usually caught his meaning.
He bounded ahead, scouting and checking for threats, but unlike the previous day, there were no demons anywhere within sensing range. Yesterday had been a close call. If Johrannah hadn’t thrown her dagger and hit the lizard-demon in the eye, they would have been in very serious trouble.
In truth he’d been stunned by the boldness of her throw, and the fact that she’d actually hit the damn thing in such a vulnerable spot was nothing short of miraculous. He’d seen her hunt and knew she was deadly accurate with a rock or spear, but even that was nothing compared to embedding a knife into the eye of a charging demon.
‘That reminds me. I should see if the knife is still there…’
He’d go once they were back at camp, and he knew he wouldn’t be needed for a little while. Looking behind him, he saw that she was out of sight, but that was okay because he could hear her coming down the path. Still feeling playful, he decided to hide behind some undergrowth and sneak up on her after she had passed him. He hopped off the trail and flattened himself down close to the ground, concealing himself in the greenery. He heard her approaching, saw her feet walk by his hiding spot, and was preparing to make his move when she suddenly stopped. He froze, trying to stay completely still and wondered what he should do. She seemed to know he was there because she began to shuffle.
‘Can she sense my demon blood?’ He had his suspicions and it looked like they were being confirmed.
The underbrush rustled and her face popped up over the bush. “Boo.” He surged to his feet and snorted in her face. “Boo!” She laughed and ruffled his hair, making him laugh too. “Cute kitsune.” He giggled, feeling giddy and rejoined her. “How did you know I was there? Did you feel me?” he asked as they started walking again.
“Yes. Feel you. But trees tell me too.”
“The trees told you I was there?”
“Yes.”
He looked around, casting about for any sign of demonic energy, but found none. ‘Talking trees? What the hell does that mean?’
Back at camp, she pulled out her book of words and asked him his age.
“How old am I?” he repeated.
“Yes. I am 24.”
“Twenty-four?” he blurted, shocked.
She nodded, giving him a confused look, as if she did not understand why he was so stunned. He shook his head in disbelief. Twenty-four and alone in the forest. She had to be a miko or holy woman. No woman that old would be unmarried unless there was something seriously wrong with her, she’d joined a shrine, or she was a widow… She carried no trace of a male on her, but that could be because she had been in the forest by herself for a long time. He knew that human males’ scent faded from their mates if they were away from each other for an extended period of time because humans didn’t have blood bonds the way demons did. Unlike humans, once a demon claimed a mate and forged a blood bond, the scent never faded. His mother had carried his father’s scent and claim to her death.
“Do you have a husband?” he asked. ‘If she does, where is he? Did she run away from him? Is that why she’s lost? Or did he cast her out because of her blood sickness?’ The thought made him seethe. Perhaps she was unsuitable for bearing kits because of her illness, but that was no reason to abandon her out in the forest to fend for herself.
“Husband? No.” She looked up something in her book, then added, “Betrothed.” “You have a betrothed?” That made him seethe even more. Where was this woman’s father? Where was her family? Where was her intended? Why was she by herself, unprotected, in a forest full of demons, bandits and things like him?
“Yes. Michael.”
“Michael? Is that his name?”
“Yes.”
‘Funny name. Michael. I’ll remember it. If I ever hear of a “Michael” abusing his wife… ’
“Where is he?”
Her eyes slid away from his and she looked down at her hands sadly.
“Home,” she answered in a soft voice.
He blinked, reassessing his earlier assumptions based on her reaction. ‘She loves him. She misses him…’
“Is he one of the ones looking for you?” he asked carefully.
She thought a moment, then nodded. “Yes.”
Of course any man worth his name would look for his missing wife or intended. If she had said no, he would have been very surprised. A missing woman wasn’t so much a matter of love as one of honor, especially if the engagement was long term.
“When are you to be married?”
“Two years.”
Two years! She’d be twenty-six by then. Wasn’t that too old for humans to have kits? Most of the human girls he knew were married after their first heat cycle and pregnant with a kit by the time they were sixteen. Suzuka was the exception, but she was a miko and would probably never marry. Under normal circumstances, even the poorest peasant had his daughters married off or otherwise out of the house before they turned seventeen. An unmarried, older daughter brought suspicion and speculation, and most fathers wouldn’t tolerate any mark against the family honor. For Johranna’s intended to wait until his wife-to-be was twenty-six… that was unheard of.
He wanted to ask more questions, to find out why she was waiting so long to marry, and why her betrothed was willing to wait for her. There were many things he wanted to say, but the mention of this Mi
chael’s name had caused a shadow to fall over her eyes, and he felt her sadness within himself. In his heart, he knew that he did not ever want to see this woman cry so he forced a smile and held his tongue.
“He is a lucky man. I am sure he is doing everything he can to find you. If you were my betrothed, and you were missing, I would not stop looking until I had found you,” he said, hoping it would help chase away her bad feelings.
It worked because she beamed at him, and for a brief moment he wished that someone would love him that way, just once.
“Thank you. So, how old are you?” she asked, returning to the question that had started it all.
He mentally tallied the years in his head. He knew how old he was when his mother had died, and he knew how many years had passed since her death.
It was easy enough to add the two and come up with his age.
“Seventy-four,” he replied.
She nearly choked. “Seventy-four? Sixteen thought I!” He nodded. “Yes. I look very young, but that’s because I am young. For a hanyou. I’m still basically a kit. I won’t be an adult until I’m over a hundred.” ‘If I make it…’
“A hundred! How long life kitsune?”
“Demons can live a very long time, but hanyous usually don’t live much past a hundred.” “Why?” she questioned, her brow furrowed with concern.
He looked down. “We’re killed,” he admitted softly.
“Killed?” she repeated. She seemed shocked.
He sighed. How could he explain this? She didn’t seem to understand that half-demons were tainted, nor did she seem to care. “I am a hanyou. Not human. Not demon. Everyone hates hanyous. When a hanyou becomes an adult, demons and humans hunt it before it can grow too strong. Most of us never make it out of adolescence. I’m lucky to have lived so long.” ‘Very lucky.’
It was true. It was almost as if his life was charmed. He had come close to death so many times, but each time something had happened and he was saved at the last moment. Johrannah rescuing him from the exterminators was just one example of him cheating death. There were times when he was convinced that his father was still watching over him from beyond the grave.
