Emperor of the Fireflies

by Sarah Ash

A tear rolled down his cheek.

  And now I’m free. I think. . .

  “I can’t repay you yet,” he said, wiping the wetness away, “but as soon I get back to my clan lord, I’ll see that your kindness is well rewarded.”

  The man refilled the bowl and handed it to him with a millet cake. “The name’s Tetsuo. I’m a woodcutter.” He looked at Masao, waiting for him to introduce himself as well.

  “I – I’m Saburo.” Masao silently offered a plea to the spirit of his dead friend to forgive him for borrowing his name. But there was no way he could risk revealing his true identity, even to a kindly stranger.

  “There’ve been bandits in the woods on the shore, attacking travelers, Saburo. Stripping them of everything, even the clothes off their backs. You were lucky to escape with your life. We’ve asked for help but since the new emperor came to the throne, nothing’s been done.”

  “Bandits.” Masao stared into the emptied soup bowl. It was an explanation he was happy to go along with.

  “Where were you heading?”

  “The capital. Can I get passage on a boat going upriver?” It seemed ironic to be asking how he could get transport when for days without number, he had been powering through the sea in Ebb’s body.

  “I’ve got a friend who’ll take you to the capital. He could do with an extra crewman to help unload the cargo. You’ve got broad shoulders; you look strong enough to roll a few barrels of sake.”

  “And how long will it take?” No sooner had he asked the question than Masao realized that Tetsuo was regarding him with a quizzical expression.

  “Are you sure you’re not involved in any shady business, Saburo?”

  Masao forced a laugh. “Do I look that suspicious? I just need to get back to my lord. He’s not going to be pleased if I’m any later than I already am.”

  This time it was Tetsuo who laughed. “It’ll take as long as it takes,” he said. “If the wind drops, you’ll soon be hard at work, plying the oars.”

  Chapter 52

  “I wish you’d learn to play another tune, Kaito.” The voice, slurred and weak, yet tinged with distinct irritation, almost made Kai drop the flute. “I’ve heard that old song once too often.”

  “Mother?” He hurried over to kneel beside her.

  Umeko had been dozing but she jerked awake at the sound of her mistress’s voice.

  Princess Asagao’s eyes opened and she peered up at Kai. “Where are we? What is this place, Kai?”

  “You’re safe at the Tide Dragon monastery, Mother.” So she had recognized him; that, at least, was an encouraging sign.

  “I’ll go and fetch Master Seishi.” Umeko rose, rather unsteadily, and tottered out.

  “Where’s Takeru?” the princess demanded fretfully. “Is he still out hunting with Isamu? I told them to be back before dusk.” Her mind must be wandering. “We were so worried about you, little Kai. That fever almost killed you. And then you couldn’t walk. And it was all my fault.”

  Kai took her hand in his. He was so used to her speaking critically to him, if she noticed him at all, that this confession caught him off-guard.

  “Your fault, Mother?”

  “I should never have allowed you to go swimming with Takeru. You caught a bad chill. Doctor Ujiake despaired of you.” She squeezed his fingers in hers; the intimate little gesture unmanned him and he found himself blinking away tears. How long had it been since she had held his hand? Had she forgotten how disappointed she had been in her sickly, lame second son?

  “But I’m better now,” he said, squeezing her fingers gently in return.

  Master Seishi came in, Umeko trotting behind him.

  “How are you feeling, your highness?” he asked, kneeling on the opposite side of her futon from Kai. The princess stared up at him with haughty disdain.

  “Who is this man, Kaito? I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.”

  Kai, embarrassed, could not look his master in the eyes. “This is Master Seishi, the monastery’s healer; he’s been taking care of you, Mother.”

  “Where’s Doctor Ujiake?”

  “He stayed behind on the island to care for the others.”

  “Island?” Princess Asagao looked at Kai as if she had no idea what he was talking about. “What island?”

  “If you’ll permit me, Princess. . .” Master Seishi checked her pulse.

  “Thirsty,” she said suddenly, moving her head away. “Mouth. . .so dry. . .”

  “A little cold tea, my lady?” Umeko raised her mistress’s head and tilted a little drinking bowl to her lips. Kai saw his mother attempt to swallow but a trickle of tea ran out of one side of her mouth. Umeko hastily wiped the tea away as Master Seishi sat back on his heels, gazing at Kai. Kai nodded in response to the unspoken question. He had seen the same thing with Takeru after he was thrown from his horse. Takeru had made a remarkable recovery since the accident but he was young and fit; their mother was twice his age and had carried the burdens of the clan on her shoulders for the last seven years.

  And then he felt the Sacrifice seal begin to throb on his shoulder; at the same moment, his mother pressed his hand tightly again.

  “Mother?”

  “Were your eyes always blue, Kai?” She was staring intently into his face, as though seeing him clearly for the first time. “Such a beautiful color; blue as the ocean the day I sailed from the capital city to marry your father.”

  Had she sensed Flood calling to him? She had never spoken to him in such a way before.

  “I have to go,” Kai said, gently extricating his hand from hers. “But I’ll be back as soon as the tide turns. What tune shall I play for you next time?”

  She closed her eyes and for a moment he thought she had lapsed into semi-consciousness once more. But then, just as the summoning throb of the seal intensified, he heard her murmur, “‘The Ballad of Hikoboshi and Orihime.’ That was your father’s favorite.”

  “The lovers separated by fate?” It was the song he’d been playing before he and Sakami first made love in the highest tower of the castle overlooking the bay. “I never knew that my father liked it so much.”

  ***

  “Masao!” Kai called across the empty sea. But there was still no answer. The last time they had spoken, Masao had been setting out on the risky journey upriver to Kinkiyo’s forge.

  Why hasn’t he contacted me since then? It’s been too long.

  “Where’s Shiohiru?” he asked Flood. “I haven’t seen him for several days.”

  “Why do you need to talk with my brother?”

  “I just want to find out if Masao is all right.”

  There was a silence as if Shiomitsu was listening intently to the sounds in the deep ocean.

  After what felt an interminable while in which Kai could only make out the rushing pulsing of the currents, Shiomitsu eventually said, “I can’t detect the presence of Ebb’s Sacrifice. But he’s probably on shore. If you wish, we can go to meet my brother.”

  A while later, Kai caught sight of the great foam-white dragon streaking through the open sea toward them. He called out to Masao again.

  Ebb raised his great head from the sea, water pouring from his noble head as he fixed Kai with one piercing green eye.

  “Is Masao on shore?” Kai called to him through Flood’s powerful voice.

  “He is.”

  “Is he well?”

  There was a pause. Too long a pause. Then Ebb replied, “I do not know.”

  Kai felt his heart miss a beat. “You don’t know?”

  Another pause in which the roar of the wind and the waves grew ever louder.

  “The Sacrifice bond is broken.”

  If lightning had shivered through the sky, Kai could not have been more stunned.

  “Broken? But – how?”

  “Inari’s kitsune magic. Masao took up her sword against Kurika. The sword’s spirit possessed him and destroyed the Sacrifice seal so that he could work within him to challenge Kurika. And so I had
to let him go.”

  Then Inari had kept her word. The stormy churning of the waves around Kai seemed to echo the confused churning of his thoughts.

  “Masao’s free. . .but I’m still bound to you, Flood. Will the spirit in Inari’s sword release me too? Or has all its power been used up?” He didn’t know whether he felt glad for Masao or bitterly envious. “And did Masao defeat Kurika? Or is the fire dragon still at large?”

  “That I do not know either.”

  The tide was already pulling them apart; Kai could feel Flood readying himself for another high lunar tide.

  To be free of this eternal watery prison. To walk on dry land and never have to return to the sea again. . . As Flood streaked back toward the shore, Kai felt as if the longing to be rid of the curse that bound them together would consume him. Until the sound of the rushing tidewater grew ever louder, a roar in his mind, drowning out everything but the clamor of the stormy autumn sea.

  Is it finally driving me mad? Is this how the madness begins?

  Chapter 53

  Ayaka woke in semi-darkness, hearing the high, plaintive notes of a flute floating on the night air.

  That song. . .it’s so sad it makes me want to cry. She sat up, her heart reverberating in sympathy with the mournful cadences.

  I need to go to Kai. He’s calling to me.

  She knew she was risking her reputation, her family’s good name, even her life. But she didn’t care; his flute was summoning her and she could not ignore its call.

  ***

  The night was nearly over as, wrapped in her cloak, she flitted through the dawn shadows to the abbot’s garden, drawn to the ghostly notes of the flute.

  “What’s happened, Kai?”

  He turned, the flute halfway to his lips, and in the half-light she saw that his face was stained with tears, his eyes red-rimmed.

  “She died,” he said. “My mother.”

  Ayaka did not know what to say. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around him and stroked his head as he cried. After a while he gently pushed her away, knuckling the tears from his eyes like a child.

  “If anyone saw us –”

  “There’s no one around. And even if there were, I wouldn’t care.” She fumbled in her sleeve and drew out a handkerchief, handing it to him. “My mother was friends with your mother,” she said softly. “They grew up together at court. She always spoke so fondly of her. And if I hadn’t behaved so badly toward your brother Takeru, we could have been family and none of this would have –” She couldn’t continue, and turned away so that he should not see her face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t realize Hotaru was using me.”

  “He was using us all,” Kai said. “From the moment he made Kurika his shikigami and the Akatobi stronghold was consumed in flames, we were all drawn into his plan.” His voice sounded firmer now and she saw him clench his fists in silent resolve.

  “But he’ll be here by tomorrow with all the court. What about your mother’s funeral? As a princess of the empire, she merits a ceremony befitting her rank.”

  “Master Seishi has gone to consult the abbot. And a message has been sent to my brother.”

  Takeru. The fiancé I jilted to wed Hotaru. Ayaka lowered her head, feeling even more guilty than before. To her surprise she felt Kai’s hand on hers.

  “What’s done is done,” he said. “We have to –”

  White wings fluttered out of the ginkgo tree behind them, darting away over the monastery rooftops.

  “What was that?” Kai jumped up, suddenly on edge.

  “Oh, just a bird,” she said. “We must have startled it. A white dove, perhaps. . .or a gull.”

  “A white bird?” His mouth had taken on a grim set. “Did you know that he has a shikigami that takes just such a form? He’s used it to spy on my clan. Now, it seems, he’s been spying on us too.”

  “On us?” How much did it see? Did it see me put my arms round Kai? Ayaka stared at him, speechless.

  “I must warn the abbot. If the emperor learns that he’s been sheltering my mother here, breaking the terms of her exile, the abbot’s life could be forfeit.”

  Chapter 54

  “Just a little further now and we’ll see Mount Sakuranbo.” Sakami trudged doggedly onward but each step felt harder than the last and she began to drag one foot after the other, as if her geta were lined with lead.

  And the mountain was still far away; the rice paddies lay to the left, stretching down toward the coastal plain, lined with tussocks of gold and brown rice straw, the muddy water dotted with wading birds.

  When the princess sent me to fetch Kai home from the monastery the paddies were like a fresh green sea with the new rice crop. . .and now the harvest’s nearly gathered in.

  She stopped, propping herself against a tree trunk. The dusty road wavered before her eyes, growing dim. She could hardly make out Honou’s figure ahead of her any longer as he trudged onward, the sacred sword slung over his shoulder.

  Am I fading so fast?

  She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the knotted gray bark.

  I thought that the closer I came to our mountain, the sooner my strength would return. But perhaps I’ve stayed away too long and it’s too late for me.

  She had hoped that a farmer’s cart might pass them and she could beg for a lift in return for a blessing but the only ones that had appeared were going in the opposite direction toward the capital city.

  So weary. . .

  “Get up, Sakami!” Something prodded her sharply in the back. “You’ve got to keep moving.”

  She opened her heavy lids to see Honou standing over her.

  When did I slide down to the ground?

  His figure shimmered, indistinct and vague, as if a film had covered her eyes.

  “Just need a few more minutes.” She heard her own voice, slurred with tiredness, as if from a long way off.

  The sharp prod came again.

  “Ow! Did you just jab me with Foxfire-Fang?” A little more awake, she glared up at him.

  “If you don’t get closer to Sakuranbo soon, you’ll never make it. You’re fading already.” There was a harsh urgency in his words that shocked her.

  “Fading? Going transparent? Like Kai?” She looked down at herself, fanning the fingers of her right hand in front of her face. To her horror she saw that their outline was wavering, becoming misty and indistinct. “Oh, no. I don’t want to be left here forever, Honou.”

  “Then you’ve got to keep moving. Remember what Lady Chinatsu told you; once we’re back on the mountain, you’ll start to recover. But if you linger on the road, you don’t stand a chance.”

  The travelers passing by on the road, some bent low with heavy backpacks, others wearing wide woven hats to protect their heads from sun or rain, looked as indistinct as shadows. Even the sound of their footfall, their voices, was muffled and faint.

  “I’d carry you if I could.” She heard Honou’s voice drifting back to her as he set out again, shouldering the heavy sword with a hint of his old nonchalance. You would too, dear Honou, for all your bluster, she thought fondly. She blinked. Was his outline wavering too? He was as much a creature of Sakuranbo Mountain as she; was he in danger of fading to a ghost too?

  Chapter 55

  Passing through the main gate to the imperial palace, Naoki found himself caught up in a flurry of activity. Servants and officials were rushing to and fro, loading traveling chests into waiting ox-carts, and liveried retainers were ushering their noble masters and mistresses toward palanquins lined up in the main courtyard.

  “What’s going on?” he asked a passing courtier.

  “The court is getting ready to leave for the Autumn Moon Festival, my lord. And now that the emperor is to hold a special ceremony in memory of his brother, we have to bring suitable offerings to honor the ex-emperor’s spirit.”

  And the Clan of the Red Kites was not even included on the guest list? Naoki felt the color rising to his face as he r
ealized the full implications of the omission. Hotaru obviously regarded the Akatobi lords as dangerous: treacherous and unpredictable. So this is the thanks I get for risking my life to further his ambitions and place him on the throne?

  For a moment, resentment almost overwhelmed him – but then he remembered that he had come to get Yūgiri released by whatever means possible. This wasn’t the time to be worrying about court protocol.

  He set out, retracing the route to the imperial apartments from his recent visit. To his surprise, no one challenged him; the courtiers and guards seemed too preoccupied with their preparations.

  “And where do you think you’re going, my lord?”

  Naoki stopped, recognizing General Nakakuni’s cultured tones. He turned and bowed, frantically searching for a convincing reason.

  “I need to see the emperor. I have a fresh lead for him regarding the sacred sword he’s trying to trace.”

  “Is that so?” The general looked unconvinced. “Then you can tell me. No need to bother his majesty before the festival.”

  “I need to tell him in person.”

  ***

  “Yūgiri. Yūgiri Hisui. I know you can hear me. You will answer me. Now.”

  The insistent voice penetrated Yūgiri’s consciousness bringing him back to a world too agonizingly bright to tolerate. He bit his underlip hard, tasting blood, warm and salt, hoping that a different kind of pain would allow him to ignore the grinding ache in his left eye socket. His remaining vision was filled with a blood-stained fog, shot through with lightning jags. And behind the fog loomed an indistinct figure, regarding him impassively through spectacles whose lenses reflected the cruel daylight.

  Hotaru.

  “Where is the sacred sword that Kinkiyo forged?”

  Yūgiri did not reply.

  Hotaru rose in one swift, fluid movement and clamped one hand around his face, twisting it upward toward his own. Caught off-guard, Yūgiri let out an involuntary cry of pain.

  “You can cry out as much as you like. There’s no one to hear you.”

  Yūgiri, ashamed, made an effort to control himself.