Seven Deadly Shadows

by Courtney Alameda

  I press a hand against my mouth and close my eyes, needing a moment of privacy. Gratitude and grief well inside me like waves, and when they slam into one another, my core shakes. Relief rolls out in their wake, too. I no longer fear for my grandfather’s soul, now that it lies in the hands of the best shinigami in Yomi.

  With no way other way to thank him, I drop into a deep bow. When I rise, I manage to compose myself long enough to say, “Thank you, Shimada.”

  “No need to thank me. I exist to serve the dead.” He fits his hat atop his head, then hooks his thumbs into his belt. In the courtyard, Roji and Heihachi tend to a collapsing pyre, letting the logs burn down. “I am glad to find you awake—I wanted a chance to say goodbye.”

  “Goodbye?” I ask, knotting my brows together. “So soon?”

  “Shuten-doji’s death will upset the balance of power in Yomi,” Shimada says. “Many will want to see the shinigami responsible for his demise pay the ultimate price for our defection, including the clans.”

  The ultimate price? “You mean the one O-bei paid?” I say.

  He nods. “Roji and I will leave before sunrise. Yuza will likely join us in exile.”

  “And what about Heihachi and Ronin?” I ask. “Or Kiku?”

  “Ronin left the shrine as O-bei’s pyre burned low,” Shimada says. “He gathered a handful of her ashes and disappeared. Neither Heihachi nor Kiku carries a shinigami’s blade, so the clans’ justice will not come for them. Or you, for that matter. Be cautious, however. Shuten-doji had many friends, and it is best that the Kusanagi no Tsurugi not fall into their control.”

  “I plan to return the blade to its rightful shrine in Nagoya,” I say, reaching into my pocket and removing the menuki from within. The small suns glint in the predawn light. “Without the menuki, of course.”

  “A wise precaution.”

  “You seemed to recognize them on the day we met,” I say, slipping the menuki back into my pocket. “Why didn’t you tell me they were part of the sword?”

  “I knew your bracelet had material from the Kusanagi no Tsurugi,” Shimada replies. “But I was not sure if you had an original piece of the blade, or if the links were forged from some alloy of its metals.”

  “You could have mentioned that fact,” I say.

  “Why?” he asks. “We had the pieces, but even I did not know how to put the blade together again. How did you do it?”

  “I had help from an ancestor,” I say, shooting him a grin. We listen to the wind for a moment before I get the courage to ask: “This wasn’t the first time you defended the Fujikawa Shrine from Shuten-doji, was it?”

  Shimada weighs me with a sideways look. “Perhaps not. One day, I may return here to summon your grandfather’s spirit for you. When I do, I will tell you the story then.”

  My heart leaps. I bow to him as he steps off the veranda. “I would like that very much, Shimada-sama. Thank you.”

  The shinigami are gone before sunrise.

  Eight Weeks Later

  Fujikawa Shrine

  Kyoto, Japan

  Mother and Father finalize the sale of the Fujikawa Shrine on a festival day.

  I stand on the veranda of the main hall at sunset, watching patrons enjoy the shrine grounds. Tonight, the first full moon of the new year will rise, and the Fujikawa Shrine is honoring the event by celebrating Koshōgatsu, or Little New Year. It’s unorthodox to hold a moon-viewing party in the clutch of winter—but I couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate the reopening of the shrine to the public. Even our new head priest, Yamamoto-san, deemed a moon-viewing party appropriate; I’m not sure what he knows about what happened here, but both Shiro and I are certain the old man can see through yokai glamours. After all, he came highly recommended by Goro.

  I haven’t met my parents’ new business associates, nor was I invited to the closing. The shrine’s new owners began reconstruction almost a month ago, and several buildings still wear their scaffolds like exoskeletons. Mother assured me I could continue working at the shrine, but after everything I’ve risked to protect this place, her promise seems hollow. She’s placed our family’s legacy in the hands of a faceless corporate entity, despite the blood and sweat I’ve spilled on these cobblestones, or the lives lost in defending this sacred ground.

  For now, I am the last Fujikawa left to guard this place, and I will do so until the day I die.

  “Kira?”

  I turn, my red hakama swishing against the veranda. I smile when I see Shiro, who has escorted a prim-looking kitsune to see me. I’m surprised to find Shiro’s companion in a business suit and tie—I’m not used to seeing kitsune in much of anything but shrine robes.

  “This is Takeda-san,” Shiro says. I exchange bows with our visitor. “He’s here on behalf of the shrine’s new owner.”

  I shoot Shiro a pointed look. The representative of the shrine’s new owner is a kitsune? But out of respect to our guest, I don’t ask this question.

  “May I have a moment of your time, Fujikawa-san?” Takeda asks.

  “Of course,” I say, plastering a welcoming smile on my face. The two men follow me into the shrine office, which has been scrubbed of the battles we planned and fought here. Gone are the maps, the black butterfly dust, any indication that this room has ever been inhabited by anything less ordinary than a kitsune shrine guardian.

  “Would you like to take a seat, Takeda-san?” I ask.

  “No, thank you,” Takeda says, placing his briefcase on the desk with care. “I am here to deliver a document on behalf of my employer, and I won’t take up too much of your time. It’s a busy evening, is it not?”

  “It is,” I say with a smile, folding my hands in front of me. “In the best possible way.”

  Takeda pulls out a stack of papers from his briefcase. I swallow a knot of worry, determined to keep my heart in the right place. At least they are allowing you to stay, I tell myself. At least you won’t lose the shrine forever.

  Though I know that all of that could change on a whim. Unlike the generations of Fujikawa priests and priestesses who have come before me, my position here at the shrine is not asured. Not anymore.

  Takeda separates the papers into three neat stacks on the desk. “These are transferral-of-ownership contracts,” he explains to me carefully. “On your twenty-first birthday, my client will transfer the ownership of the Fujikawa Shrine to you—”

  I can’t help it: I gasp aloud. Tears spring to my eyes, and I can hardly blink fast enough to keep them back. I press a hand to my mouth, fighting to keep my composure. I desperately do not want to embarrass this man, this wonderful man who is handing me back the one and only thing I want in this world: my family’s shrine.

  “I am glad to see that I bring happy news,” Takeda says gently.

  “May I ask who your client is, Takeda-san?” I don’t even care that my voice wobbles. Or at least I try not to care, because these emotions may be too big to contain.

  “My client prefers not to be named, Miss Fujikawa,” Takeda says with a bob of his head. “I hope you will respect his right to privacy.”

  “Of course,” I reply, casting a questioning glance at Shiro. All Shiro does is reach into his pocket and produce my personal hanko—a personalized seal that bears my name, one I’ll use throughout my life. He must have taken it from my desk in Grandfather’s guest room. I give him a curious look and a half smile. “Did you know Takeda-san was coming today, Shiro?”

  “I did,” he says, offering me my hanko. “I’ve read the contracts, Kira. They’re legitimate.”

  “Do you know this mystery client?” I ask, taking the seal.

  “I do,” Shiro replies. “But it’s a secret that I’m going to keep.”

  I remove the cylindrical hanko from its case, wet it on the ink, and then stamp my name where Takeda indicates. He stacks two copies and slides them into his briefcase, then hands me the third copy.

  “My client will continue to fund shrine renovations,” Takeda says, removing his bus
iness card from a small case. He presents his card to me with both hands, and I accept it with mine. “In the meantime, if you need anything, please call me.”

  “Thank you,” I say. We exchange bows, even though part of me wants to throw my arms around this man and sob. Someone has generously protected my family’s legacy—something my parents didn’t even want to do. In five years, the shrine will belong to me. Forever. My gratitude keeps trying to overwhelm me, but I’m careful to keep all that emotion at bay.

  When Takeda is gone, I turn to Shiro. “What do you know?” I ask him, striding across the room. Shiro puts his hands up to ward me off, laughing.

  “I promised not to tell,” he says, especially as I grab him by the front of his kimono and bring my nose up straight to his. He bats me with his tails. “I promised, Kira. That has to mean something to you.”

  “You can tell me,” I say as he puts his arms around me and walks us back two steps. “Who was it? Goro? Some unknown kitsune benefactor? Was it you?”

  He throws his head back and laughs. “I’m never telling you, not as long as I live. But no, it wasn’t me. And Goro’s a priest, he doesn’t have the money to buy an entire shrine!”

  “You’re rude,” I say.

  He nuzzles my nose. “You love me.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Who’s the rude one now?” he asks, then kisses me. And every time our lips touch, I swear my heart burns like a miniature sun in my chest. He spreads warmth, light, and comfort through my system. But most of all, Shiro makes me feel like I’m home. He stood with me during one of the darkest nights of my life, not just for the sake of duty, but also for me. He didn’t run when all seemed lost, and like me, he was ready to give his life to fight the monsters at our gates.

  The bond between us goes so much deeper than mere romance or attraction—though I admit, the romance is fun.

  “You love me,” I whisper, twisting his words back on him. “Even when I’m rude.”

  “I do,” he says with a grin. He takes my hand, tugging me toward the door. “C’mon, I think old man Yamamoto is going to need help with the ceremonies.”

  “That’s Yamamoto-san to you,” I say, remembering our conversation back in the office all those months ago. It may have been a lifetime now, or more. He laughs at me.

  I am a girl surrounded by the monsters and spirits of an ancient world.

  My world.

  Authors’ Note

  We have made our best efforts to research this novel to the fullest extent possible—including traveling through Japan and studying Shinto. We have prayed to kami in Kyoto, visited dive bars in Shibuya, and crisscrossed the country on shinkansen trains. We have listened to the rain on the steps of remote mountain temples, slept on futons in tatami rooms, and been nudged by hungry deer in Nara. While we acknowledge that our efforts aren’t free of imperfections, we have tried to build an authentic, deep-rooted setting for Kira’s adventures.

  Any faults with the portrayal of Japanese culture in the story are our own, and we apologize humbly for any oversights made.

  Stylistic choices were made to accommodate Western audiences—astute readers will notice that Japanese customs for given names and surnames have been largely replaced by Western ones. Most characters are on a first-name basis, even if they are merely acquaintances, which is unthinkable in Japan. We have also chosen to use honorifics in dialogue only, as the regular application of them felt disingenuous in Kira’s internal voice.

  Generally speaking, Kira is a more individualistic character than one might normally encounter in Japanese stories. We have tried, however, to balance out the individualistic tendencies of the Western hero with collectivist conventions. Kira is a member of a Super Sentai–style group of heroes working toward a common cause, as opposed to the sole hero of the story. At times, her star is overshadowed by other characters’—particularly Shiro’s—and it was important that her power progression remain moderate, as she could not possibly outperform better-trained warriors after a single month of training.

  We have incorporated as many Japanese words as possible, especially in the case of words that have no English equivalent. We don’t have ekiben in the United States, which is a pity. Ekiben are a delight to the senses! You will find a glossary at the conclusion of this section, should you need it.

  Insofar as Shinto is concerned, we’ve taken pains to avoid showing sacred rituals on the page, outside of the temizu purification ritual. Referring to Shinto or any of its deities as “mythological” is inappropriate—Shinto is a living faith, and it deserves to be treated with equal reverence as Buddhism, Christianity, Islam, or any other world religion. For this reason, we have declined to name the kami housed in the Fujikawa Shrine; however, it’s safe to consider it an Inari-aligned shrine, given its red torii gates.

  Similarly, we took our cues from Japanese pop culture when considering which fantasy elements to include. The shinigami themselves are a blend of Tite Kubo’s noble shinigami in Bleach and the monstrous ones found in Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata’s Death Note. We also looked at magic systems steeped in onmyōdō and folklore, as well as the frequent appearances of the Kusanagi no Tsurugi in manga, anime, and video games.

  When the real Kusanagi no Tsurugi appears in public—as it did during the ascension of Emperor Naruhito in May 2019—it is placed in a beautifully wrapped box and shrouded from sight. It is one of three sacred artifacts in Japan’s Imperial Regalia, all of which were inherited from Amaterasu-omikami. The blade is so holy, no photographs or illustrations of it exist. We have taken artistic liberties with its design for this novel.

  As for our debt to Akira Kurosawa’s immortal tale Seven Samurai—all the shinigami draw their names from the original seven samurai: Kambei Shimada, Gorōbei Katayama, Shichiroji, Kyūzō, Heihachi Hayashida, Katsushirō Okamoto, and Kikuchiyo. We split the character of Katsushiro into the two kitsune brothers, Shiro and Ronin. While the comparisons to Kurosawa’s original tale end there, we wished to honor one of history’s most remarkable storytellers by creating seven links back to his tale.

  If you have enjoyed this novel and would like to explore further, we suggest you look to the creators, artists, and storytellers that inspired it:

  Akira Kurosawa, Seven Samurai (film)

  CLAMP, xxxHolic (manga)

  CLAMP, Magic Knight Rayearth (manga)

  Hayao Miyazaki, Princess Mononoke (film)

  Hayao Miyazaki, Spirited Away (film)

  Naoko Takeuchi, Pretty Soldier Sailor Moon (manga)

  Rumiko Takahashi, Inuyasha: A Feudal Fairy Tale (manga)

  Tite Kubo, Bleach (manga)

  Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata, Death Note (manga)

  And for a comprehensive illustrated English encyclopedia of yokai and other supernatural Japanese beings, please visit Matthew Meyer’s Yokai.com.

  Glossary

  Abe no Seimei: A historical figure who lived during the Heian period in Japan, Abe no Seimei was a legendary practitioner of onmyōdō who advised emperors and government officials.

  Amaterasu: The chief deity of the Shinto faith, she is the goddess of the sun and of the universe.

  Baka: An insult that means idiot or fool.

  Bokuto: A wooden katana used for training in Japanese martial arts. More commonly known as a bokken in the United States.

  Bonsai: The Japanese art of cultivating miniature trees that mimic the shapes of fully grown ones.

  Chabudai: A short-legged table often used in traditional Japanese homes.

  -chan: An honorific used for people the speaker finds endearing, particularly young women and girls. The male form of this honorific is -kun.

  Ekiben: A boxed meal sold in train stations and aboard some long-distrance trains in Japan.

  Furisode: A woman’s kimono characterized by elegant, draping sleeves. Furisode are formal kimono worn only by young, unmarried women for special occasions.

  Futakuchi-onna: A female yokai that resembles a human woman, except she
hides a second mouth at the back of her head.

  Geta: A traditional sandal, generally worn with kimono and tabi socks.

  Genkan: A lowered entryway for a house, apartment, or building located inside the front door. Shoes are removed in this space.

  Hakama: Wide-legged, pleated Japanese trousers tied at the waist and worn with a kimono.

  Haori: A jacket that hits at the mid-hip or thigh, worn open over a kimono-like garment called a kosode.

  Hashira: The columns of a torii gate.

  Hitodama: Magical balls of fire that float at night. Similar to will-o’-the-wisps, hitodama are thought to be the souls of the dead.

  Hoshi-no-tama: A round or onion-shaped ball that contains either a kitsune’s soul or the seat of its magical power.

  Ibaraki: One of Shuten-doji’s four oni lieutenants; generally considered to be the foulest and most dangerous one.

  Itadakimasu: “Let’s eat!” or “Thanks for the food!” Said before each meal, it is a way of thanking all the living things that contributed to the meal—including the hands that prepared it.

  Jorōgumo: A half-woman, half-spider yokai, generally malevolent in nature.

  Jorō spider: Enormous yellow-black spiders found throughout Japan. Jorō spiders weave golden-hued webs that can stretch up to a full meter in length.

  Kami: A broad term describing the deities, venerated deceased mortals, natural phenomena, and ancestral spirits worshipped in Shinto. No one term in English expresses the full meaning of the word kami.

  Kancho: A young child’s prank that involves clasping the hands together so the index fingers point out, and then poking an unsuspecting victim in the rear end.

  Katana: Traditional swords used by the samurai of ancient and feudal Japan.

  Kendo: A martial art descended from kenjutsu.

  Kenjutsu: The umbrella term for all schools of Japanese swordsmanship, particularly those used by samurai classes before the Meiji Restoration.