Mysterious Journey to the North Sea, Part 1

by Hideyuki Kikuchi

  Still, there are parts in Mysterious Journey to the North Sea that later works couldn’t touch on. The section where D and the heroine visit a Noble’s manse and reflect on the beauty of that civilization is something I haven’t been able to use since, and it’s the scene that best illustrates the “elegance and refinement” of the vampires. I hope that will please all you vampire fans out there. Mysterious Journey to the North Sea is actually one of the candidates for the next animated feature—as is a remake of the first story—and if they decide to do this story, I truly hope they include that scene. Though to be perfectly honest, I’m not a big fan of anime at all . . .

  To be continued next time [laughs].

  —

  Hideyuki Kikuchi

  November 1, 2006

  While watching Ame no Machi

  (the film adaptation of one of my stories)

  SUMMER AT LAST

  CHAPTER 1

  —

  I

  —

  Sand shot up, whipped up by something swinging around at an awful speed. Grains of it scattered in all directions like smoke. There were two massive explosions, and then a second later a human form could be seen on the shore where the black waves broke. It was Gyohki. Standing erect only briefly, he then bent his right knee. Just as he was about to hit the sand, he barely managed to catch himself. A streak of white ran right through his thigh—a needle of unfinished wood.

  “You’re unbelievable . . . ,” Gyohki groaned. Dropping his eyes to his gory thigh, he then turned a look of both admiration and hatred toward the beautiful darkness before him. The darkness that harbored D.

  D was just getting up, too. His longsword stretched elegantly from his right hand, as he’d just picked it up from where it’d fallen in the sand. It hadn’t actually fallen—he’d intentionally dropped it. Just before Gyohki’s explosive kick, with true split-second timing, he’d let go of his sword. Rather than getting Gyohki to drop off his blade, he’d dropped him along with his longsword. In order for his opponent to execute that lethal kick to its full efficacy, he needed to have perfect speed and power and to be well balanced, and he’d been thrown off more than enough for D to block the kick aimed at his temple with his right elbow. Before Gyohki could connect with a second kick, D timed it so as to catch his foe’s leg and jam a rough wooden needle deep into his attacker’s thigh with his left hand.

  Seeing the gorgeous silhouette leisurely closing in on him, the limping Gyohki leapt back. A second later he was waist-deep in the water.

  “‘He who fights and runs away . . .’ It’s a dated adage, but while there’s life there’s still hope. I believe I’ll call it a day,” he said in a tone free from regret. Preparing to dive, Gyohki then suddenly turned his eyes to where D stood at the shore. “You wanted to know who made me, didn’t you? Baron Meinster gave me life, but I was perfected by the other one.”

  His body sank straight into the water. Soon splashing could be heard far in the distance, but that was the end of it. He must’ve swum out into the sea at a depth of seven thousand feet.

  Perhaps certain that his foe was gone for good, D returned his longsword to its sheath and walked over toward Su-In. The circle of light from the illumination cord made her location clear in this murk—she was a bit further in than where he’d left her. Though he’d told her to stay there, it would’ve been hard to imagine a courageous character like Su-In just standing there awaiting her fate. Still, it was strange. If she were to go anywhere else, she most certainly should’ve gone to check on D, on whom her life depended. But she seemed to have done exactly the reverse and gone in the opposite direction.

  D’s pace quickened.

  Su-In was standing in front of a huge tank they hadn’t seen before. Unlike the others, this one was filled with a milky fluid, and it had but a single occupant: a young man who was completely naked. Black and blue marks could be seen on the side that faced her. At a glance it was apparent these weren’t wounds that’d been intentionally inflicted on him, but rather had come about through some sudden event. The left side of his forehead was smashed open horribly, leaving a gaping wound you could see through if you looked hard enough. It was almost miraculous that his face had been so perfectly preserved, appearing just as youthful now as it had in life. His left shoulder was also twisted into a strange position—probably the result of a broken bone. No doubt these wounds were all the result of a fall from a considerable height. Judging by his face, he was a young villager. But who would’ve sealed up his remains more than a thousand years ago?

  Not seeming to realize that D was watching her, Su-In kept her gaze trained on the pale, hazy figure. Before long, she muttered, “You fell, didn’t you.” The way she said the words, they seemed to simply spring into being without ever passing through her thought processes. “You fell—fell at the cape . . . stabbed . . . through the chest . . .”

  D looked at the young man’s chest. There was no wound there.

  Su-In had been talking about someone else.

  “Let’s go home,” D told her.

  They had more than enough time until her grandfather’s funeral. But considering the way they’d come down, the thought of going back up made a casual term like “trip” seem horribly inadequate. Su-In’s body trembled. But before she even had time to think about it, her flesh broke free of her will and she leaned back in D’s arms.

  Quickly taking the illumination cord, D looked at Su-In’s blanched countenance, and then shifted his eyes to the contents of the tank. A corpse floating in a milky liquid and a fisherman’s daughter—perhaps the young man’s cold eyes could see the thread that joined these two very different lives. But that thread was soon frayed by a tiny groan.

  Opening her eyes in the Hunter’s powerful arms, Su-In realized the situation she was in and hurriedly tried to stand up. The hue in her eyes as she turned them away from D was ultimately conveyed by the pink that tinged her full cheeks.

  “Trying to take advantage of me in a place like this—you should be ashamed!” she said, pushing D’s hands away with much more force than was necessary. When she got to her feet again, she was already as steady as a rock. “If we’re leaving, what are you gonna do about this place?” she asked as she looked around them. “This was Meinster’s research lab, right? If you plan on trashing it, I’ll help.”

  “There are probably traps.”

  “You’ve got a point there,” the woman conceded.

  “It’s going to take a while to climb back out. Shall we go?”

  “Are you sure it’ll be okay?” Su-In asked nervously as she looked up into the darkness above.

  Twenty minutes later, as the two of them were leaving the ruins of Meinster’s castle, Su-In’s gaze had become one of admiration as she stared at D.

  —

  After another hour, the pair was greeted by an unexpected sight as they returned home: more than twenty children. As was usual on the Frontier, their height and age, hair color and skin color ran the gamut, but when they saw Su-In and raced over to her, all of their faces glowed with the same expectation. Amid the cries of “Su-In! Su-In!” were some of “teacher,” and this prompted D to stare at the sunburnt woman.

  “Teacher—when is it?”

  “When’s school starting?”

  Seeming perplexed by the youthful cries, Su-In knit her brow. “That’s a good question. I’m sorry, but I don’t know if I can do it this year.”

  Disappointment broke over the children like a wave.

  “You see, my grandfather just died, and Wu-Lin’s not around either,” Su-In said, desperately trying to keep the gloom from her voice.

  As the children continued to protest, the shouts of a man and woman who were obviously somebody’s parents flew from the main house, saying, “Come on, now! What are you doing pestering Su-In at an awful time like this?” and, “We’ve got a funeral today!”

  Before these rebukes, the children scattered like baby spiders.

  Turning to face D, Su-In aske
d, “You think that’s funny?” There was a bit of a challenge to her voice. Not receiving an answer, she continued, “During the summer, I run a school when I’m not out fishing. The kids around here want to know anything and everything. After all, at their age they’ve never seen anything but the gray sea and our week-long summer.”

  “Where’s the schoolhouse?” asked the Hunter.

  “Well, up until last year, we just pitched a tent in our backyard. But this year, they’re gonna build a proper schoolhouse. As we rode along the coast, you saw the festival tower, right? It’s right next to that. Once that’s done, we’ll be able to have school even in winter, and we’ve sent to the Capital for a teacher. The carpenters are working overtime to get it ready by the first day of summer. Looks like they’re just gonna make it.”

  “And is the teacher coming?”

  Shifting her eyes to the sea, Su-In replied, “Actually, Wu-Lin was supposed to talk to someone in Cronenberg about that.”

  Off in the distance, they could hear a child shouting, “Teacher!”

  Saying that she had to go get ready, Su-In adjusted her grip on the spear gun and walked off toward the house.

  After going in first, D watched the people busily scurrying around the house. “Is this everyone?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Ignoring the gazes of admiration and rapture that fell on him, D went back outside. He told Su-In, who stood by the door, “There’s no one dangerous in there.”

  Lowering her voice, his employer said, “Of course not. They’re all folks from the neighborhood. I’m begging you, don’t start talking flaky.”

  “The puppets on the ferry could probably just as easily be disguised as your neighbors.”

  Tensing at D’s words, Su-In said, “I know. We can’t let our guard down, right?”

  “You should help get ready for the funeral.”

  “I’m gonna do just that. I leave the rest up to you.” With a trusting glance to that inhumanly handsome face, Su-In then went inside.

  D circled around to the backyard. The grandfather’s remains were going to be buried in one corner—Su-In had stated that would’ve made her grandfather a lot happier than being interred in the communal cemetery.

  Out in the gauzy light of day, suddenly a thin melody and voices joined in song were heard from the verandah out back. The children from earlier were all gathered around a boy of about ten, who was playing a wooden flute.

  —

  To you, whom summer brought here,

  I give a modest token of thanks.

  The white flowers that blossom in the ice freeze all who touch them.

  Until the waltz of summer ends,

  You are one of us.

  And when you go we’ll pray for you,

  O departing light of summer!

  —

  D stood in the languid daylight listening to the earnest, if somewhat off-key, voices of the singers. The shadow cast at his feet was beautiful, but fainter than anyone else’s. Off in the distance, the crash of waves could be heard.

  And just as it had begun, the singing halted without warning. The boy in the center of the group fiddled with the flute, a troubled look on his face. Putting it to his lips, he inflated his cheeks, but to no effect. Apparently either it was clogged or had a leak of some sort. All around him, the other children asked what was wrong and why it wouldn’t play. They were all heartbroken—they’d been sincerely interested in singing. If they hadn’t, they’d have long since gone and found something else to amuse themselves.

  Their flutist looked ready to cry. His eyes scanned the surrounding area in search of help, coming to rest on the handsome figure. There was no telling just how he could’ve looked to a ten-year-old psyche. Pushing his way through the children packed around him, the boy ran over to D. Stopping three feet shy of the Hunter, he had both fear and expectation on his face as he looked up reverently.

  Not saying a word, D looked down at the innocent face of the dark boy who didn’t come up too far past his own waist. The young man’s body sank slowly. Down to the same height as the boy.

  “What’s wrong?” the Vampire Hunter asked.

  A tiny hand and the wooden flute it held were thrust out before his eyes.

  Powerful yet slender fingers closed on the piece of wood as the Hunter took it from the boy. There were three finger holes, but a threadlike crack ran between the last two. Even patching that wouldn’t be enough to get back the original tone of the instrument.

  Looking around on the ground at his feet, D then quickly pulled a few wooden needles from the inside of his coat—two of them. Though they were less than an eighth of an inch thick, they were over eight inches long. The thumb of the hand that held the needle reached up for the end of it, and a well-shaped nail protruded ever so slightly from the end of the Hunter’s finger. That nail moved in a tiny arc, and two inches of the needle fell to the ground, leaving a perfectly round cut on the end.

  The boy’s eyes went as wide as if he’d just watched a magic trick.

  Adjusting his grip on the needle and taking off the opposite end as well, D then took the other needle and placed its point against one of the round cross-sections. Though he didn’t seem to put any force behind it, the new needle slipped into the former needle without any resistance.

  There were sounds of surprise all around him. At some point, the children from the verandah had crowded around the Hunter and the boy.

  As far as the children could see, the two needles were of equal thickness. And yet the one that’d been pierced hadn’t split or broken, and the one doing the piercing slid into the other without hesitation and came out the other side. As the tip came out the other end to the exact same length as the part he’d first sliced off, D pulled the two pieces of wood apart. Then he brought his right hand over to the needle he held in his left. The children caught the glint of a long, thin dagger there, which bored three finger holes with the blade in less than two seconds. Each hole was perfectly round.

  Blowing into it once to get the sawdust out of it, D then put the flute to his lips. His cheeks indented ever so slightly, and a thin, mellifluous sound coursed from the instrument.

  The multitude of tiny faces changed from looks of amazement to smiles.

  Handing the new flute to the boy before him without a word, D stood back up. His eyes shifted to the verandah.

  A holy man stood there. Ban’gyoh. Beaming all the while, he tapped at his freshly shaven head as he walked over. Clasping both hands behind his back, he said, “I declare, when a priest isn’t reading his prayers, he’s got nothing but time on his hands. I’ve been playing with the children since this morning. And what have you been doing? From what I saw earlier from the kitchen window, it seems you and Ms. Su-In came back on a boat, but you should take care. When a man and a woman recklessly let nature take its course, therein lies the way to lust and temptation.”

  Muttering a religious incantation in a pleasing tone, Ban’gyoh gazed at D reproachfully. But his heavily wrinkled face broke into a smile as he said, “Though from what it’s been my pleasure to see, you have some fine points, too. Usually one as handsome as yourself is cold not only to women, but to everyone aside from himself. But though your veins may be ice, the blood flowing through them seems to have become a bit redder. I have a suggestion for you. Now, I don’t know if you’re a bodyguard or a warrior or what, but why not abandon the way of the sword for good and look after the children here?” The holy man then laughed, “Oh, I’m just joking with you!”

  As soon as he finished speaking, a lovely melody arose from around his feet. The boy had just blown into the flute. Though Ban’gyoh listened to it with his eyes shut, he soon gave a pensive nod. “I hate to say it, but the tone isn’t very even,” the priest mused. “Child, try playing this.”

  The young boy seemed perplexed by what the holy man then held under his nose. It was another wooden flute with tiny holes. Roughly two inches shorter than the one D had fashioned, it was also te
n times as thick.

  “No matter how skillfully constructed the flute may be, there are certain limitations in the instrument itself,” said Ban’gyoh. “That one’s a bit too tough for a child’s throat and lungs. Come now, give it a try.”

  The child was very forthcoming. Pressing D’s flute back against the Hunter’s chest, he promptly took the new handiwork from Ban’gyoh and brought it to his mouth. The sound that filled the air was deeper and more composed than that from D’s.

  Ban’gyoh laughed proudly—behavior that hardly seemed fitting for a holy man.

  Saying nothing, D stared at the flute in his hand, and then gazed at the one the boy had taken and the face of the holy man.

  “Hmm. This simply won’t do, sir,” Ban’gyoh said, backing away with one hand raised. “It’s not good to work so hard to cover for one’s shortcomings with mere forcefulness. A good-looking man is not the be-all and end-all, you see. Here’s a proposition for you—if you want children to favor you over some foolish old priest, you should hang up your sword and live here in their village for the next five years. I bet you’d make the finest mayor they’ve ever seen!”

  Chuckling to himself, Ban’gyoh then walked back to the house. The children had also gone back to the verandah.

  Only D and the flute were left out in the stark light.

  “For some reason or other, that priest’s got it in for you,” a hoarse voice could be heard to say from around his left hand as it hung by his side. “But for such an odd duck, he sure says some interesting things. So, how about it? Why don’t you settle down here and become head fisherman or something? I’m sure you could get some animal protein out of that huge whale,” the voice chortled. After a short pause, he added, “Hey, aren’t you gonna tell me to shut up?”

  D looked down at his left hand. The oddest expression lingered around his lips. “Head fisherman, eh? That might not be too bad,” said the Hunter.

  “Wait just a second,” shot back a voice tinged with distress. “You wouldn’t really . . .” The palm of the left hand was upturned, looking up at D. But soon, the voice let out a sigh. One of relief. “That’s a load off my mind. I wouldn’t care if you quit here. But wherever you go always ends up being the valley of the shadow of death. You’ll keep traveling.”