by C. A. Storm
A few more things you should probably know about the Shiro women. I already explained that we are yuki-onna, spirits of winter given flesh and blood. Our line descends directly from Susanō, the god of storms and the sea, though like many of the other gods, both of Japan and across the world, he disappeared many, many centuries ago.
The Shiro women were once shrine maidens and shamans, known as miko, serving as intermediaries between Susanō and the primordial spirits, the kami, and humanity. Unfortunately, during the Heian era, roughly a thousand years ago, the government sought to exert their authority over the female shamans. Our stronghold, situated in the Hida Mountains, was assaulted, the miko brutalized, their defenders slaughtered.
In desperation, my great-great-grandmother called upon her grandfather, Susanō, and he responded in his usual…over-eager fashion. The miko were all transformed into spirits, their flesh turning to ice, their touch capable of stealing the heat of life from any creature, able to call down the harshest of winter storms, and with a thought, could dance on the wind as a flurry of snowflakes, untouchable by the hand of man.
The yuki-onna were born of death, blood, and fire, and since that time, we’ve had a bit of a grudge against men.
My grandmother and her sisters, like her mother and sisters, and like my mother and her sisters, had never married. Flat out, they’d never bound themselves to one man for very long at all, in nearly any role. They refused to subject themselves to the “rule” of men. Instead, they would kill those men who were unfaithful, hunt down the descendants of those who had slaughtered their families, and trick the unworthy into freezing to death.
It was only when they craved a child of their own that they would regularly sleep with the same man, but after they got pregnant, that was it. Deal done, and they moved on. No ties, no commitment, and no men. Liberated women to their cold, icy cores!
I am very proud to have been born a Shiro woman!
When Japan began its serious restructuring, from feudal to its more current form, around the same time the west was undergoing the Industrial Revolution, the Yōkai also began to restructure. The eight most powerful clans met in Tokyo and formed the Buzoku, while lesser clans were “encouraged” to ally themselves with one of the Big Eight.
The Shiro Clan allied themselves with the Katei no Kage, the House of Shadows, putting an end to a rivalry that lasted for nearly a thousand years.
Mom met Dad, they had sex a few times, she got pregnant and they both moved on to other people, blah, blah, blah. I’m starting to bore even myself here! Sorry about that. Let’s just say, my parents were sexually compatible—Susanō save me, did I just complete that thought out loud?—but neither was looking to settle down. Mom wanted a child, Dad wanted to cement the bonds between the two families, so yeah. That was that.
I couldn’t even tell you who my grandfather was, or any of my male ancestors’ names, for that matter, except for Susanō.
Much to grandmother’s chagrin, however, I am her only grandchild. My mother had said “one and done” more than once, and neither of my aunts seemed to be in any hurry to have kids.
I do have a couple of half-siblings on my father’s side. Probably more than a few, since my father had a thing for women. Well, he did before the Empress, anyway. I have a lot of half-siblings, but he hasn’t claimed any of them as his heir, and almost all of them are a lot older than I am—my dad had more than earned his reputation as Kage Koibito, the “Shadow Lover”—however, I’m only close to one of my siblings, the only one younger than I am, my little sister, Akane.
She hates her first name, so she only goes by her family name.
I really shouldn’t tell you what it is.
I really shouldn…fine, it’s Hanabara!
But you totally didn’t hear it from me, okay?
Er, Akane, if you ever read this, they totally forced it out of me. There was torture involved. You can’t see what they did to me, but don’t worry, I got them back for forcing me to tell them your real name. Onee-san took care of it!
Where was I?
Oh, Grandmother was staring at me as I explained with Amaya-sama had asked.
“And you have not heard from your father?” she asked after I had finished.
With a sigh and a shake of my head, I replied, “No. I left his secretary a message, but I was told that he is in seclusion right now and not to be disturbed.”
Grandmother arched an elegant brow and pursed her lips before she took another sip of her sake. “Yes, well, either way, you must perform the task.” She shrugged, setting her glass aside before she continued, “She is not giving you much time, is she?”
It was my turn to shrug. “She more than hinted that I was supposed to use the Winter Solstice celebration as a cover to perform the actual retrieval. That gives me about two weeks to get a lay of the land, find out what I need to, and figure out how to pull this off.”
Calmly retrieving a clay pipe from within the depths of her oba, Grandmother tapped it thoughtfully as she filled it with a sweet, pungent tobacco. “And you leave in the morning? This is not much time to get ready to leave.”
“Yeah, I know,” I took a deep draught of my sake, just to calm my nerves as I caught the distant, but distinct, noise of my approaching mother, aunts, and their gang. “I already have a friend doing some research for me, and at least two of my friends said they should be free to come out and assist.”
My grandmother made a small face at the mention of my friends, mostly because although they were Yōkai, they weren’t Shiro Clan, thus automatically mistrusted.
“And Kurokō?” she asked, lighting her pipe and filling the small, private room with the scent of plum blossoms. “I am not familiar with him. Do you know anything? Is he a member of your father’s circle?”
I gave another helpless shrug, “Honestly? Until today, I never even heard of him, but he’s probably a bakeneko.”
Grandmother paused at that, her pipe poised at her lips as she stared at me. “Well, girl? One or two tails?”
“Two tails,” I reluctantly replied, “But both bakeneko and nekomata are shapeshifters, so it’s not like two tails is a dead giveaway, and I didn’t get any bad vibes off him.” Not like I could have detected them with the Wicked Queen that close, anyway, but that’s not something I said out loud. “And nothing spontaneously burst into flames, nor were there any dancing corpses, so…surely a bakeneko.”
Grimacing, Grandmother took a deep drag from her pipe. “Bah, just keep an eye on him. You can’t trust cats, too fickle, bakeneko are just nekomata that haven’t gotten caught yet!”
By now, it was obvious that my mother, aunts, and their cohorts had arrived, given the loud, familiar voices approaching the screen door to the private room. Closing my eyes in dread, I took my sake cup and downed the contents. It was going to be a long night, and I still had packing to do.
How’s that saying go? You can sleep when you’re dead? Yeah, that doesn’t work for me. I’d just have to catch some sleep on the flight out.
❆❅❆
Yuki | Shinjuku District, Tokyo, Japan | 2017年12月6日
At the unholy hour that preceded dawn, I was packed and standing outside my apartment, waiting for Gozu to show up. My head was pounding, my eyes were bloodshot, and I was already wearing sun glasses, despite the fact the sun wasn’t even a teasing glow on the horizon.
Last night had been as dreadful as I had feared. After my mom, aunts, and mom’s gang had shown up, accompanied by armfuls of liquor bottles, the interrogation had begun.
But had they kept it to dealing with the Wicked Queen?
Oh, no. That would have meant I’d have gotten out of there quickly and easily.
Instead, I got grilled from all sides on every detail of the last few years of my life. Apparently, I was a terrible daughter-slash-niece because I didn’t visit my mother often enough to keep her informed on every little sad, sordid detail of my life.
If I didn’t know for a fact my mother lived and
partied hard, I’d think she was trying to live vicariously through me; but compared to her, her sisters, and their gang? I was boring.
I went to work, got home, usually ended up doing a side-job for one of the other clans in the Kage, or hung out online with my girls and played video games. To say that all of us were a bit anti-social is an understatement. We all wore our hikikomori label with pride, except for Miki, who took it to extremes; but given that we’re all monsters, it was safer for the world if we just kept to ourselves.
I didn’t date. I didn’t have casual sex. Susanō’s Ten-Grip-Sword, if not for the fact I didn’t have any cats, I’d be that crazy cat lady everyone in America always joked about.
“So why are we waiting again?” Masa asked, her voice a petulant whine in my ear.
Gritting my teeth, I resisted the urge to flick the dog’s head pendant hanging around my neck.
“Because, I was told Gozu would be driving us to the airport, and he’s got the boarding pass and tickets,” I replied as calmly and evenly as I could, while wishing I had a big cup of coffee to drown in.
Before I had finally managed to escape the clutches of my family, my grandmother had pressed a bundled parcel into my hands, a little going away present. Inside had been a bundle of ofuda, paper talismans inscribed with protective wards, a couple of clay jars filled with some of Grandmother’s “secret recipes,” and Masa—an inugami, a dog spirit currently possessing the form of a weathered silver pendant shaped like a stylized Akita head, with tiny sapphires for eyes.
Yes, my necklace was possessed by the spirit of an intelligent, talking canine, one who had been a member of the Shiro Clan since the downfall of our traditional home. We had a few inugami, like a lot of other older families and Clans, but ours had all been companions of the shrine maidens and slaughtered while trying to protect them against the government’s soldiers. There were other, darker ways of creating inugami, using black magic and living sacrifices, but those and their ilk were almost always created by humans practicing the dark arts—humans that eventually, if they lived long enough, became Yōkai themselves.
I knew in Europe and the United States, the different supernatural creatures were all divided into different groups, like the Vampires and the Shifters, and even the Sidhe and Fae, with Witches being another separate group. It’d only been in the last century or so they’d truly begun to mingle. For us, though, whether you’re an animated umbrella, a flesh-eating-two-tailed feline that learned to walk and talk like a human, a witch who managed to survive for centuries, or a former human transformed into an elemental spirit, you’re simply Yōkai.
It didn’t really matter what type of Yōkai you were, as much as what Clan or family you were a part of. Social status was still important, even to ghosts and monsters, although it was raw power that tended to allow one to move up the ranks; and for Yōkai, age was power. We all got much, much more powerful as we aged.
So, my necklace, animated by the spirit of an akita slain nearly a thousand years ago, was as much a member of the Shiro Clan as I was, just in a different capacity.
We’re all about equal opportunity employment, can’t you tell?
I was saved from Masa’s no doubt pithy comment—because for a thousand-year-old canine, she sure as Susanō’s Left Testicle still acted like a hormonal teenager sometimes, which just goes to show that age, power, and wisdom doesn’t necessarily mean mature—by the sight of one of the Kuro Clan’s armored SUVs pulling up in front of my building.
“See, patience pays off,” I muttered as I leaned down to grab my laptop bag and backpack.
I only packed a single suitcase of basic necessities, since I was going to be in the States for a few weeks, and would need to figure out something appropriate to wear for a “masquerade ball” or some such. The email I had received from Amaya-sama hadn’t been all that detailed, just a time to be ready for pick-up and a general itinerary that was quite thankfully a single non-stop flight from Tokyo straight into Denver.
From there, I was apparently on my own. Well, except for the damned cat, Kurokō, but I’d give him the slip when I needed to, so I could get actual work done. And I’d already given Miki a list of things that I’d need…acquired…and shipped to me, post haste.
As the black SUV, which was totally conspicuous in this neighborhood, came to a stop, I went out to meet it, dragging my single large suitcase behind me. Gozu emerged from behind the driver’s seat, cloaked in his human flesh; he was still huge, just looked like a brutal yakuza instead of…well, an ox-headed Yōkai.
Grinning wide when he saw me, he ran to grab my bags, “Good morning, Yuki-hime!”
Crap, he was in formal mode.
“Good morning, Gozu-san,” I responded with a polite dip of my head as he grabbed my bags and with exaggerated care, put them in the trunk, then waited patiently as he hurried and opened the front passenger door.
Slipping into the seat, I was just clicking my seat belt into place—and yes, I understand the irony of a semi-immortal being concerned about safety, but it’s the law and we try not to draw the attention of human authorities, and moreover, I’d hit my head on the dashboard once as a child, and that shit hurt—when I heard a low, husky voice come from the back.
“What? No good morning for me, princess?” His purring voice emphasized the title Gozu had tossed out.
Glancing up toward the rear-view mirror, a bit disturbed that I hadn’t felt his presence behind me, or at all until this point, I met the amused, golden eyes of…Susanō save me, he’s gorgeous’
Short black hair, artfully messy, with a clean-shaven, strong jawline and high cheekbones that emphasized his aristocratic, handsome features. In a word that you may be familiar with, he was totally bishōnen without being pretty. Nope, he was pure male in his prime, and knew it, going by the small smirk playing about his thin lips. His eyes were a dark, warm amber, and as they caught mine in the mirror’s reflection, they glinted with an eerie emerald iridescence.
Kurokō… I thought as I met his laughing eyes.
Why had I thought he would be conveniently loaded in a cat carrier and made to travel with the luggage, when he could just assume a human form and fly First Class? Yeah, I’d totally have gone with the First Class option, too, but…why’d he have to be so damned hot?
Chapter 5
Kurokō | Shinjuku District, Tokyo, Japan | 2017年12月6日
It was wrong of me to tease the poor girl, I knew that the moment the words left my mouth, but something about Shiro Yuki made me want to…play.
She wasn’t conventionally beautiful, or anything as prosaic as being pretty or cute. Her features were too sharp, too strong for that. Striking, she was striking, like a clenched fist directly to the gut. Not even five feet tall, and slender, she looked as fragile and ephemeral as the snow she shared a name with.
Although, she was apparently dressed for comfort, going by the University of San Francisco sweatshirt, the non-descript baseball cap, and a pair of…sweatpants?
She looked like an average, Japanese-American college student going on vacation, not the pampered princess of both the Kuro and Shiro Clans, which was probably what she was going for.
Watching her approach the SUV gave me the chance to study her unobserved. I hadn’t gotten the opportunity last night, not with Amaya present. She wouldn’t have approved of me getting too close to the “help,” and I was honestly surprised she hadn’t said anything when I had jumped up into Yuki’s lap.
As my father taught me, there was a time for everything, and everything had its time, it was just a matter of recognizing the moment when it occurred, and to pounce!
Seeing her in her human flesh was quite different from seeing her in her true form, but considering we had met one another in our true forms, it seemed appropriate for us to meet mask-to-mask.
I admit, surprising her as she slid into the car, would be something I’d probably laugh about for years to come, particularly when I thought about two things:
T
he first, watching her mysterious, dark eyes widen as they met mine in the reflection of the rearview mirror, witnessing the sudden icy sheen that had obscured her eyes for a moment and turned those eyes into brilliant, glowing orbs of solid ice.
The second, the fact her hand had twitched, ever-so-slightly, as she tilted her head, letting one of the delicate, hanging earrings to graze the slender column of her neck.
Why the second, you ask?
Because, she’d just revealed that she was carrying a weapon, for one, and that she tended to rely on physical attacks over magic. Something to keep in mind for the future, just in case.
She held my gaze unblinkingly in the mirror as Gozu climbed in to the vehicle and started it up. Being a cat, this was a game I was particularly fond of, so I kept hold of her eyes and waited to see who would blink first.
I loved games.
Gozu was talking to Yuki, who was replying to his conversation easily, all the while refusing to break from the staring competition, but to be honest, I had no idea what either one of them was saying.
My mind was busily occupied with other thoughts.
I wish I could tell you that I was thinking over the “mission” Amaya had tasked this poor, unsuspecting young girl with; and make no mistake, even if she was a yuki-onna, a Yōkai, she was so very young. She hadn’t even hit her first milestone yet; come into proper bloom, so to speak.
Although, going by the sweet, cool, natural scent of her, of crisp mint and cherry blossoms, and that hint of frost, she wasn’t far off from her first transfiguration. She was also, apparently, feeling a bit…aroused?
Intrigued, I narrowed my eyes. She narrowed hers. Neither of us had blinked yet, and I was reluctantly impressed.
Then a new scent hit me; the pungent, unpleasant, rank, foul smell of wet dog filled the cabin of the vehicle. Neither Yuki nor Gozu seemed to notice the scent, but it quickly became overwhelming.
