Whatever the case, the large child – Hojo seemed to be his name – stopped arguing and looked uncertain.
“Take your friends and get out of here. I don’t want to hear about you bullying anyone again, especially not the entertainers.”
Entertainers?
The group of children hesitated for a moment, then the new girl, larger and thus probably older than the others, stamped her foot and said, “Now!”
That got them moving. The four ran off, back the way they’d originally come when Kisaki was still convinced this was some sort of illusion. Hojo stopped at the edge of the trees just long enough to turn around and stick out his tongue, but then he disappeared from her sight.
Kisaki suddenly felt foolish sitting there in the water. For all of her time spent reading about battles and warriors, she’d been bested by a group of mere children seconds after arriving.
“Are you okay?” the older girl, Tamiko, asked. She approached Kisaki, stepped into the water up to her ankles, and leaned down to offer a hand.
Kisaki hesitated to take it. She was quite embarrassed by what had just happened. That, and she’d also learned two harsh lessons this day about assuming everyone she met would want to be friends with her. She didn’t care to learn it a third time.
Again, almost as if in response to her wary thoughts, she felt momentary heat at her side where the quill lay in her robes.
Tamiko smiled. “It’s okay. They’re gone.” After Kisaki continued to hesitate, she added, “Do you understand me?” A moment later, she said something in a different dialect, one that Kisaki didn’t know.
Kisaki wondered if perhaps she could pick up this new language the same way she’d apparently learned the first or whether that was merely some quirk of her appearing in this new land. However, her pride overcame her caution and she decided to answer. “I understand you.”
“That’s good,” Tamiko replied with a grin. “English is the only other language I know well. If that didn’t work, I would’ve had to start making hand gestures.”
“English?”
“Yeah. That’s what I just asked if you spoke.” She straightened up and again held a hand toward Kisaki. “So ... do you like sitting there, getting your uniform all soaking wet?”
“Uniform?” Kisaki asked, but before Tamiko could answer, she took the human girl’s hand and pulled herself up. “No. It was not my intention to get wet. Those others...”
“They’re jerks, but pretty harmless otherwise. Hojo is a real wimp to anyone who stands up to him. I saw the way you knocked him down. If I hadn’t shown up when I did, he probably would have run home crying.”
Kisaki wasn’t entirely certain what this girl was talking about, but her tone seemed far friendlier than the others she’d met. Though Kisaki’s instincts for others had atrophied due to her long isolation without any peers, she decided to take a chance with this girl. She desperately wanted to make at least one friend during her sojourn, even if that friend was a human who she would likely never be allowed to see again. “Thank you.”
“Hey, it’s no problem. Besides, wouldn’t want your first day working here to be a bad one.”
“Working here?”
“Yeah. Aren’t you one of the performers for the Star Festival this weekend?”
“What is a Star Festival?”
Tamiko stepped from the water and Kisaki followed. When she turned back, she looked confused. “If you’re not here to perform, then why are you wearing that?”
Kisaki looked down. “This? These are my robes. I am always dressed in such attire.”
“Really? Are you from some rich girl boarding school I haven’t heard of?”
Though she was still catching up to Tamiko’s choice of words, Kisaki began to understand. Upon seeing the four children in need of discipline, she’d remarked to herself how strangely they’d been dressed. Now, she realized, here on Earth – however she had gotten here – maybe she was the one dressed strangely. Most of her studies of this planet had been of its history and how it intersected with that of demonkind. Perhaps when not waging war this was how the humans chose to appear. It seemed a logical assumption. “This is how I often dress within the celestial palace. Obviously, servants dress in lesser garb.”
“Servants, eh?” Tamiko replied. “Must be nice.”
“Nice,” Kisaki echoed. “It is comfortable ... if stagnant.”
“You must be one of the guests here, then.”
Kisaki looked away for a moment, embarrassed.
“So you’re not a guest?” Tamiko asked.
“I do not even know where here is.”
Tamiko laughed but then, after a few moments when she saw that Kisaki wasn’t joining her, asked, “You’re not serious, are you?”
“I know I am on Earth, but beyond that...”
“On Earth?” Tamiko replied, blowing out a huff of breath. “That’s a start, I guess. Hold on. Do you have amnesia or something? You know, lost your memory.”
“I am well aware of who I am,” Kisaki said. “It’s just, I do not know how I got here. I...” She paused for a moment, debating how much she should say. It was possible Tamiko’s kindness was a ruse, but she genuinely seemed both friendly and helpful. After a moment’s debate, she decided to trust her. “I left the quarters of my mother, Lady Midnite, without her permission.”
“Lady Midnight?”
“You have heard of her, yes?”
“Is that a stage name, like Lady Gaga?”
“I am not aware of any daimao of that name. Perhaps she inhabits a different wing of the palace.”
“Daimao?” Tamiko asked with a laugh. “Is that her band name?”
Kisaki didn’t quite understand, perhaps a quirk of the local dialect, but it sounded reasonable. “Yes, they are her brethren.”
“Okay, I think I get it now,” Tamiko said. “Your mom’s a musician, probably on the road all the time, never home. So you ran away.” Before Kisaki could say anything to the contrary, she continued. “Don’t you think she’ll be worried about you?”
“I am certain she will be quite angry. Shitoro, too. I have little doubt he will be in charge of my punishment.”
“Shitoro? Who’s that?”
“My guardian.”
“Like your stepdad or something? Wow, is he that bad?”
Kisaki didn’t know what a stepdad was, but again she assumed it was probably just another human colloquialism. “He is very strict and will be particularly cross when he discovers I stole his key.”
“To his car?”
“To the doors that kept me inside.”
“They kept you locked up?!” Tamiko looked shocked. “The hell with that. You’re coming with me. We’ll figure out what to do, but in the meantime, you can stay at my place.”
“You are not going to tell my mother?”
“No way.”
Kisaki smiled. Though she was still wary, she began to suspect she had just made her first new friend. “You are called Tamiko, correct?”
“Yes.” She gave Kisaki a quick bow, then held out a hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
They grasped hands. “I am pleased as well. I am Kisaki.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
“Thank you. So is yours.”
“It’s okay, I guess.” She turned and beckoned Kisaki onward. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Where?”
“My dad’s the manager at the Kabira Beach resort. We’re pretty full up right now, but I think I can find somewhere for you to stay. But first...”
“Yes?” Kisaki asked tentatively, falling into step with her new friend.
“First, we’re going to find you some new clothes so you don’t stick out like a sore thumb.”
12
Midnite wasn’t often at odds about what to feel. Most of the decisions in her life were easy to judge.
This, however, was different. She was equal parts angry, impre
ssed, and worried out of her mind. She was angry with Shitoro, that he had let his guard down knowing how mischievous and willful Kisaki could be. But she was more furious with her daughter, that she would steal his key and leave, despite doing so being expressly forbidden.
All the same, she felt a grudging respect that Kisaki had proven herself so resourceful. Shitoro was meticulous in his methods and not easily fooled. His early life, before she had rescued him, had taught him to be wary. That her daughter had gotten past him without his knowledge spoke of cunning on her part, a far cry from the complaining child who often whined about wanting to see what lay beyond her domain.
Cunning or not, though, Midnite knew she was ill-prepared for what awaited her outside her doors. The youkai who served the other daimao weren’t of concern, but if they learned of her existence, then so would their masters. If that happened ... she didn’t care to think what would become of her darling daughter.
And she was by far the most darling thing in Midnite’s life. Though Midnite knew she could be distant, something her station demanded, she deeply loved Kisaki and tried to show it whenever she could. Her very existence and that Midnite went to such lengths to protect her was evidence of that.
But now, she was gone. Her chambers had been thoroughly combed, both physically and magically, and there was no sign of her.
That in itself was bad enough, but what the girl had somehow done in the process of escaping was potentially catastrophic.
Midnite summoned both Tanaki and Shitoro to her audience chamber. She ordered all the others out and had the doors sealed so they might discuss matters privately.
Shitoro, in particular, seemed nervous about the meeting, probably rightfully so, but Midnite realized that nothing would be solved by unleashing her wrath upon him, even if he likely deserved it.
“We have a very grave issue at hand,” she said from her place upon the throne. “One that needs to be solved post haste.”
Shitoro bowed deeply, shaking ever so slightly. “Kisaki will be found, mistress. S-she cannot have gotten far.”
“Farther than you may think,” Midnite replied. “There have been three transgressions this day. I am not inclined to think they are unrelated.”
“Three?”
“The unexplained sending and the theft,” Tanaki said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Yes,” Midnite replied with a nod of her head. “First, there was an unauthorized sending to Earth, made with a crystal filled with my own power. Then we learned the Taiyosori had gone missing. Finally, there is the matter of my daughter. I would propose, that if one were to reverse the order in which I learned of these happenings, then one would have a very clear line of events which occurred.”
Shitoro’s eyes opened so wide, Midnite was certain they might come tumbling out of his head. “You don’t think...? Surely the girl isn’t nearly that clever.”
Midnite allowed herself the ghost of a grin. “Are you saying my daughter isn’t intelligent? She did outsmart you, after all.”
“N-not at all,” Shitoro sputtered. “But for her to sneak out and make her way to Earth is unlikely enough. But to steal the great blade, too? That’s impossible. The sword cannot be stolen. She would have been utterly destroyed.”
“Not necessarily,” Midnite said. “The weapon can be gifted, won, or inherited.”
“But...”
“Do I not considered Kisaki my heir?”
“An heir who can never claim her birthright, my lady.”
“Yes.” Midnite nodded. “But an heir nevertheless. My blood flows through her veins. Though even I cannot claim to fully understand the power of the blade of heaven, I propose the possibility that the Taiyosori may have sensed her connection to me.”
“But why steal it?” Tanaki asked.
Shitoro nodded vigorously. “I have known the child ever since she was a babe. She is willful, stubborn, even infuriating at times, but evil? Never.”
Midnite folded her hands and contemplated this. “Let us not forget perhaps the worst flaw she possesses, a flaw that I myself am guilty of having instilled in her. She is ignorant.”
“But her studies...”
Midnite waved off the tiger demon’s concerns. “Yes, yes. I am well aware you have been diligent in her teachings, but she is ignorant of nearly everything outside of those doors.” She gestured toward the entrance to the inner chambers, locked up tight again. “Even her time in my audience chamber has been limited to moments out of the past several decades. The fault of this lies solely with me. In my desire to protect her, I purposely refused to discuss matters that she should have known about, matters of importance.”
“Then why take the sword?” Tanaki asked.
“Who can say? Curiosity, spite? It could have been any reason. Perhaps she simply wished to gaze upon the marvel of the blade, then panicked. All we know is that she somehow managed to grasp the sword without facing its wrath.”
“The weapon found her worthy,” Shitoro said in a voice barely a whisper.
“I would not go that far,” Midnite chided. “My daughter is neither daimao or mazoku. She is not even particularly formidable for a hanyou. That is, assuming no transgressions in her studies occurred.”
“Of course not, my lady,” he replied indignantly. “She has never even touched a weapon so far as I know. She only barely understands the basics of magic.”
Midnite raised a hand to quell her servant. “Be at peace, Shitoro. I know all of this. The Taiyosori is a mysterious object. There is no way of knowing why it allowed my daughter to handle it, save for us to know it did and she survived.”
“And Earth?” Tanaki asked.
“That I cannot answer.”
“The girl is fascinated by the humans,” Shitoro said. “I don’t know why. Perhaps she can sense her heritage.”
Midnite narrowed her eyes.
“B-but, that is only a guess, because I certainly never told her anything about it. The fact remains that she is. How she managed to get there, though, is beyond me. We covered the basics of trans-dimensional passage in her lessons, but that is all. The girl knew nothing of the sending chamber. How she even found it is a mystery to me.”
“As it is to me,” Midnite said.
After a moment, Tanaki spoke up. “Perhaps she had help.”
“One of our own?” Midnite asked, her tone growing dangerous.
“No, mistress. I would bet my life upon that. All of the servants within these walls are loyal to you and your wishes. But what if another...”
“That is a very serious accusation,” Midnite warned, but it was halfhearted. It wasn’t unknown for the daimao to plot against each other, whether to gain favor with the court or for other petty reasons. But that assumed her siblings were even aware of Kisaki’s existence, something she had taken pains to prevent. Even if they were, then why work this way? Why not just confront her openly in front of the court and demand that her child be executed for the transgression of being born of an unworthy human?
Unless...
“The Taiyosori,” Midnite said. “If one of my siblings is after it, then Kisaki would be the only way to accomplish their goal.”
Much as she didn’t want to admit it, that made sense. If Kisaki were killed trying to grasp the weapon, so be it in their eyes. One less half-breed to worry about. If not, then her daughter would be infinitely more easy to defeat in combat than she, one of the few other means of gaining the Taiyosori’s favor. The sword would have a new master, and it would all be accomplished without the potential for causing all-out war among the daimao.
Left unsaid was the name she thought most likely behind this ... Ichitiro.
13
Ichitiro savored the shrill screams of his meal as he bathed in a mixture of its blood and the boiling mud he favored.
The more the tiny youkai begged for mercy, the more Ichitiro enjoyed the taste as he ripped chunk after chunk of still quivering meat from its body.
Had any of his brothers known of his tendency to devour the flesh of his own servants, leaving them just barely alive enough for the healing waters of the palace to restore, they would have been appalled. But restored they were, and in short order, too, only for him to do so again whenever the mood, and appetite, was upon him.
And why not? He was a daimao, a superior being on any world he deemed to set foot upon. However, as the eons passed, it became more and more clear to him that not all daimao were created equal.
Hah! The thought of his siblings, with their misguided sense of regality, left him equal parts amused and disgusted. They thought themselves enlightened beings. What they failed to realize was that they’d lost their way, forgotten themselves. The sounds of battle still called to them within their dreams, but it was no more than an empty shadow of the past, an echo of the days when they fought the entropic chaos at the bequest of their masters.
The daimao were originally born for battle, bred for it. Yet, what were they doing now? Endlessly debating how best to deal with the humans, a race of insignificant insects who arrogantly aspired to more than their lowly kind was fated.
His brothers, Reiden in particular, thought him stupid. They rolled their eyes, called him tiresome when he argued the same point again and again. Yet they failed to see the method behind his reasoning. Every time Ichitiro put forth his argument to invade Earth, to lay low the humans, there were fewer rolls of the eye, less sighs of boredom. Little by little, he was making his point known, worming his way into their thoughts. Soon enough, his wishes would be theirs, and they would never once suspect he had manipulated them.
No, they thought him dull-witted, a mere dog of war. Ichitiro knew that much. If anything, he encouraged that opinion. It ensured that even while they respected his strength of arms, they underestimated his cunning.
Ichitiro smiled to himself, taking one more bite from the nearly lifeless youkai before tossing it to the side like rubbish, where his other servants would tend to its wounds.
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