by Leah Cutter
“Why not?” Norihiko asked, startled. She wanted to do this for him, right?”
“You know why,” Hikaru stated plainly. “Seeing you—like this, not the real you—is too painful.”
The ache in Hikaru’s voice troubled Norihiko. This pain—this was too much. It wasn’t something that she’d overcome quickly.
For the first time, Norihiko tried to look at Hikaru, to really see her.
She looked at tired as Priestess Ayumi. And possibly as old.
“Fix your magic,” Norihiko said quietly. “Then come back. We can…talk.”
Norihiko turned and left the room without saying goodbye. He didn’t know what else to say.
He didn’t want to talk with Hikaru. To listen to her soft voice. To feel the attraction he felt.
But if she cured Kayoku, he would spend some time with her.
He owed her at least that.
Ξ
Norihiko was grateful again for the lies that Priestess Ayumi had told the household, and in particular, the generals, that he was Kayoku’s close cousin. That meant that in the afternoon, when the generals met, he could join them. Not so that he could report to Kayoku, but because he could claim to be part of the household, or at least close enough that they’d allow him.
The generals met in the formal greeting hall, near the front of the estate. Fancy lattice screens lined the room, but weren’t set up this time so that others could hear them without being seen. Bare wooden beams ran the length of the hall, dividing the room from its steeply sloped ceiling. Poems dedicated to the mountain, and to the Kitayama family, still hung on the wall, though Norihiko could tell they weren’t the finest quality—those had probably been packed away when Masato had first won the battle.
The generals didn’t sit in any kind of strict order, at least not as far as Norihiko could tell. Only eight remained, when there had at one time been two dozen.
Had they left the estate? Or did they now walk in the eternal lands?
General Asheihi called them all to order. He was the oldest of them, and had served under Lord Taiga for many years. He wore his silver hair shaved short, like a monk’s, and the plainest of brown robes. Wind had etched lines in his hard face, and his eyes still squinted, as if he always stared at the sun.
“There is no word yet from Masato. His own generals don’t know what to do. His men are still camped on the slopes of the far eastern hill, though fewer every day—they seem to have a problem with deserters.”
This brought chuckles to the entire group. Did they have to deal with deserters themselves? Or was there another reason for their amusement? Did men regularly leave Masato’s army? There was still so much Norihiko didn’t know.
“Many of our own men have returned to their farms. What else can they do? It’s summer, and the harvest must be brought in. Or the winter will be very bad,” the general warned.
Norihiko agreed with the other generals that this was the right course of action. They could always gather the farmers up again if they needed to.
The estate couldn’t afford a large standing army, though the top ranks were all dedicated soldiers.
“Until there is news from Masato, we’re at a standstill,” General Asheihi warned.
“Why?” Norihiko asked when it seemed as though the rest of the generals accepted this. He truly wanted to understand.
“Masato is our new lord,” General Asheihi told Norihiko gently, as if he were a child.
Norihiko didn’t mind. In many ways, he was still like a child, learning his way through the world.
“But he isn’t here, at the estate,” Norihiko pointed out. “We could lock the gates. Keep him at bay.”
None of the men Norihiko could see nodded. He still knew they agreed. Masato wasn’t here. Why should they let him in?
“In the formal declaration of war that was issued by Masato and agreed to by Iwao, he now has control of the estate. Because he killed Iwao,” General Asheihi pointed out.
“We could still fight him,” Norihiko said.
“To what end?” General Kenika asked. “His men cover the mountain like ants. Even if many have left. He can still raise more than we ever will.”
“Is it as hopeless as that?” Norihiko challenged. “You all have brilliant minds. Are born soldiers. You just have to fight—”
“And what if the Emperor disagrees?” General Kanika interrupted. “The way of the law—”
“Has Masato always followed the law? The natural laws?” Norihiko asked. “His army is unnatural. You all know that.”
More than one general grew pale, remembering. They hadn’t known what exactly they had been fighting, but they’d known they weren’t regular men.
Norihiko knew, though. As a sword, he’d tasted their flesh. Analyzed it. “They’re powered by charms. And magic,” he stated bluntly.
A sigh swept through the room, as if Norihiko was finally speaking out loud what they’d all been thinking.
“Do you know how to kill them?” General Asheihi asked.
“Of course,” Norihiko said, surprised. He’d thought the generals would have figured out the trick. “They’re powered at their core, here,” he said, pointing to the center of his belly. “There are three characters carved there. Disturb the center one. Mar it, or disfigure it. They’ll lose power.”
“They’re all heavily armored through their midsection,” another general pointed out.
“Exactly,” Norihiko said. “To protect them from losing their advantage. You can chop off a limb and they’ll keep fighting, even after the blood loss should have stopped them.”
More generals nodded at that.
“But if you can get in one good belly thrust, they’ll keel over,” Norihiko promised them.
“How do you know?” General Kenika asked.
“I fought them, with Kayoku’s father,” Norihiko lied. “On the far side of the mountain.”
The generals nodded and seemed to buy his lie. Norihiko again sent quick prayers of thanks to the quick–thinking Priestess Ayumi for providing him with a plausible story.
“But you didn’t win,” General Asheihi pointed out.
“Our generals lost their nerve,” Norihiko said brazenly. “You don’t have to lose. We can win.”
Would the generals believe him? It would be so much easier for Norihiko to fight Masato with them backing him up.
One of the other generals said, “What do you know of fighting?”
Norihiko heard the doubt in his voice, could feel it creeping around the room, like a hidden rat. He stood and walked over to General Asheihi. “Your greatest weakness is your left side. Your right arm is overdeveloped. You need to stretch, to twist more, so your left side is better defended.”
The general sitting next to Asheihi nodded. “He speaks the truth, old friend.”
Asheihi shook his head, but didn’t say anything. Norihiko moved onto General Kenika. “You have a formidable form,” he told the smaller man. “Your swordplay is poetry to watch. But you don’t move your feet enough. You’re like a tree, powerful and massive, but vulnerable to great winds. You’ll be blown over, sooner or later.”
“Didn’t I just tell you the same thing last week?” one of the other generals said, ribbing Kenika.
Norihiko felt the change in the room. The generals wouldn’t follow him. Not yet. He still had to prove himself. He turned and walked over to a third general. “And you—”
A servant burst into the room. “Excuse me. I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me,” the man said, over and over.
General Asheihi looked as though he could barely contain his outburst, but he managed to keep a civil tongue. “Before we behead you, you might as well tell us your message.”
The servant gulped and paled further. “Lady Kayoku—she’s dying.” He turned to face Norihiko. “You must attend her. Now.”
Without waiting to hear anything else the generals might say, Norihiko rushed from the room.
He would fight Masato with
or without them. But he needed the heart of the mountain to keep fighting, too.
Kayoku had to get well.
Ξ
The stench of Kayoku’s wound made Norihiko wrinkle his nose, as if he could block the smell. She had gotten much worse, over the course of hours, not days. Priestess Ayumi had placed many sachets of sweetened jinko wood, and burned sweet candles as well, but they couldn’t overcome the smell.
The room itself was dark. No windows faced the outside. Norihiko suddenly wished he could gather Kayoku up and take her out into the woods, to lay on a bed of fresh pine needles. He shook his head, confused. Had he done that with another lady in the past? The feeling of holding her in his arms made his entire soul ache.
“You came,” Kayoku said. She wheezed, sounding much older than she was.
“Of course I did,” Norihiko said softly. He automatically reached for the cloth covering Kayoku’s forehead, dipping it in the bowl of cool water on the floor beside her, then gently returning it to her head.
“You must get better,” Norihiko told Kayoku.
“I’m trying,” Kayoku said. She coughed again.
Norihiko didn’t like how it sounded. It wasn’t a death rattle, not yet, but it had echoes of it.
“They said you were dying,” Norihiko said, scolding Kayoku. “You shouldn’t scare us all that way.”
“But I am dying,” Kayoku said weakly.
“You are not,” Norihiko said fiercely. “You must get better. He…he would have insisted on it.”
“He?” Kayoku asked.
“Iwao,” Norihiko told her. He gently encased one of her hands in his. It was like holding onto a hot bag of coals. “He loved you, you know.”
Kayoku shook her head.
“He did,” Norihiko told her. “He did everything for you, my lady. He didn’t care about his inheritance, about defending the mountain, as much as making it safe for you.”
Tears started rolling down Kayoku’s cheeks. “Is it true?” she whispered, her voice cracking.
“He wrote poems for you. Whispered them to me at night,” Norihiko confessed. “Thought of you even when he needed to be working with me. I wasn’t jealous of you. I pledged to defend you as well.” He wiped away the tears from her cheeks. “So you must get better.”
“I have been fighting it,” Kayoku promised. “It’s just that I’m so tired.”
“Fight a little longer,” Norihiko said. “I will find you a cure.”
He left Kayoku sleeping peacefully. He knew he didn’t have much time.
Without heed, Norihiko marched directly to Hikaru’s rooms. She had to do something. Had to have some sort of magic that would at least halt the progress of Kayoku’s demise.
No servants waited outside Hikaru’s room. The shoji stood open. Nothing remained of Hikaru in the room either, not a poem or a single ribbon. Even her scent had been swept away.
She had said she’d leave. Figure out how to purify her magic. Then come back.
Norihiko felt a flush of shame, how he’d hounded her already.
Then his back grew more straight. She didn’t know how serious the matter was. He was going to have to go after her. Make her understand that she was needed more than ever.
Not that he needed her. But that she had to use her magic to help them.
Or else.
Three
Summer Rains Give Way
Hikaru
Summer rains give way
To cold winds, fading hope
Drowns even mountains
I didn’t think I had any more tears left after mourning for my love. For what had become of Norihiko and me.
I was wrong.
There was nothing for me here in these cold, human rooms. I longed for the wild places that only the kitsune could find. I couldn’t stay here. I’d made too many mistakes. Kayoku would die soon and it would be my fault. The mountain would be overrun by Masato and his Buddhists, striving to push out the kami and the kitsune.
I shuddered to think of him, his foul breath, how I’d let him touch me.
I needed to go somewhere else. Start anew.
I called for my sisters, but they hadn’t returned.
Even they had abandoned me. Or maybe my powers were so corrupt they didn’t recognize my call. Or perhaps this was what Estu had seen in her prophecy, the time when I’d no longer be able to travel with my sisters.
I had Yukiko pack my robes, my jewels, even my hair combs. Other servants stripped the room bare of the poems and pillows that had made the outer rooms tolerable. They packed everything in boxes and I sent them along, not caring if I would catch up or not.
I carried all the possessions that mattered to me: Seiji’s empty scabbard, that had once held so much hope, my mother’s amulet that had saved my life, that I still wore, and a tiny hand mirror that I’d found, that Norihiko had once given me.
The rest of my life was in tatters. I would rend my clothes to match.
I knew better than to think about walking in the eternal lands. Even if I’d had the energy to take my own life, I had no idea how my corrupted powers would act. Would they escape and haunt the place where I passed, causing all who entered there grief? Or would they suck at my soul and hold it so that I could never die, though never live, either?
I had to find a way to purify myself. Even the most extreme of the human rituals—fasting, bathing in vinegar, and bloodletting—merely punished the flesh. They didn’t clean something as fundamental as the force that animated them.
Finally, we were ready to leave. Just Yukiko and I, traveling as we had after the death of Norihiko and our traveling party. It wasn’t safe to travel this way. I didn’t care.
Yukiko had done as I’d asked, though, and gotten us a plain farmer’s cart and oxen. We would be slow. I would hide us with my magic, if I could.
The summer day was overcast, and I could feel the chill of autumn on the winds. Or maybe that was just me. Yukiko sat stubbornly beside me, her lips pressed tightly together.
The silence between us as grew too oppressive, even for me to ignore. “What is it?” I asked Yukiko. My voice was rough from all the tears I’d shed, still shed.
“You need to find your sisters,” Yukiko told me firmly.
“I’ve called—”
“They won’t recognize you,” she said. “I barely recognize you.”
I turned to look at her, astonished. Yukiko didn’t have any magic. She was mostly human. She should have seen what everyone else saw. Then I reached up and touched my face. “Have I changed that much?”
“Not like that,” Yukiko said, exacerbated. “Your spirit. The light that shines through your eyes. It’s changed.” She didn’t look at me, but continued to face the road. “It’s…unclean.”
I shivered at that. Anger finally broke through my sorrow. How dare Masato do this to my powers? Though I knew it wasn’t just him, but Junichi as well. It had to be the pair of them that had corrupted me.
How to clean the stench of death from what was once wildness and purity?
My mother would know, if I couldn’t find my sisters along the way.
Ξ
The road down the mountain wasn’t wide, or even a proper road. It wasn’t much more than ruts across the tall grass. It wound, turning back on itself often, as we descended.
Normally, we would have had to go along the side to get around the slower travelers, or wait on the side ourselves when larger, faster groups went by. But no one else traveled that morning.
I didn’t know if that was because of the war—if there were fewer people on the mountain, or if everyone was just busy that morning.
We stopped to rest at an open meadow, with trees ringing the edges. Just beyond, the road dipped down again. The sun had dyed the grass blond. Butterflies danced across the bobbing leaves, birds sang in the trees just beyond, and yet, it all seemed barren and dead to me.
The sound of galloping hooves coming from behind us made my heart leap. Was it Norihiko? Had he fi
nally remembered me? Was he coming to ask me to return?
I looked back, prepared to be disappointed.
It was Norihiko! He still sat so well on his horse as he came thundering up. I couldn’t help but sigh.
However, I’d also grown wary of him. I wouldn’t say wise. He didn’t look happy to see me. He wasn’t going to beg me to return.
He still didn’t remember me, still couldn’t look at me with love in his eyes.
I braced myself.
“You need to come back.”
I could barely breathe when he said those words to me. Had I heard him correctly?
“You want me to return?” I asked. I cursed how breathless my voice sounded.
“You must come back. You must cure Kayoku,” he instructed me.
I couldn’t help myself. I laughed at him. Long and hard.
It was either that, or start crying again.
“I cannot,” I told him. “You don’t understand. If I tried to cure her, I’d kill her.”
“Make me understand,” Norihiko challenged.
“Fine,” I said, getting down off the cart.
“Lady,” Yukiko warned.
I waved her away. “Go. And keep going.”
Yukiko stared at me for a long moment, her face as expressionless as granite. Finally, she nodded. “Don’t burn down the mountain,” she warned before she clicked her tongue and flicked the reins, starting the oxen moving again.
I looked around the field surrounding us. “Do you remember the first magic trick you were taught?”
Before Norihiko could answer, I replied for him. “Of course you don’t! You’re merely human, after all.” I knew it was my fault that the spell hadn’t worked as Etsu had crafted it, that it was my magic that had failed, but I was still angry about it.
“It was a protection spell. How to make a nest, someplace safe to hide,” I told him. “It’s the most fundamental spell for our people.” Though Norihiko wasn’t human, I still wanted him to feel some pride in the kitsune.
“Watch what happens when I try to make a nest,” I told him. I pointed to a spot several feet away from me. “Stand there.”
Norihiko stubbornly walked closer to me, to stand beside me while I tried to do the simplest of spells.