She examined the spells, and beneath them were long score marks made by nails. Her hand hovered over them. Who were you? Why did they do this to you? Tears pushed at the back of her lids. She turned her head away and went to the shrine instead.
She knelt down before it. The shrine was small, around the same height as Rin and twice as wide. The roof had been red once until the paint had started to bubble and peel. The figure inside, a fox with golden eyes and red paint for fur, stared forward, both imperial and majestic. They worship the Kitsune, yet Lord Kaedemori fears them. Why is that? Her hands rested against her thighs, but they twitched to reach out and touch the idol. What if I am not worthy in this form? The paint on the feet of the idol had been worn away, exposing the graying wood beneath. Someone prayed here. They begged for their life. She closed her eyes and she could almost imagine her. A beautiful lady, long hair trailing in the dust. She raised her hands up in supplication, waiting for release that would not come. Rin opened her eyes. She too longed for the freedom to return to who she was. She reached out to touch the idol.
“I would not touch that, or you will anger the Kami.”
Rin jerked her head backwards. Lord Kaedemori stood along the gallery. He looked down on Rin as one might a rabid dog—with both fear and contempt.
She bowed, pressing her head to the ground. I should have known he would come to me. He has not trusted me from the moment we met. Her heart hammered in her chest. She had never felt this sort of fear when she had her powers.
He did not speak. His mouth looked immobile, as if she had imagined him speaking at all. His eyes skimmed over her and then past her to the various wards scattered across the courtyard. There were prayer cards wedged into window frames; sutras hung from the eves. The entire space had a thin sheen of dust. She would think no one came here, but an offering bowl had been filled recently with the same food the witch had used to trick her with. She now knew the food was called fried tofu.
“I have seen you wandering the halls of the palace like a ghost. Why are you here?” he said.
I would ask you the same. Why do you fear my kind so? Her encounter with Hikaru that afternoon had left her wondering. Rin turned away from him and pretended to pray at the shrine. She pressed her hands together and lowered her head.
Lord Kaedemori padded over to stand beside her. He said nothing, but the threat of it hung in the air. The tension between them was taut as a cord. She squeezed her eyes shut and dared not look at him. When did I begin to fear humans?
“I loved her,” the lord said.
Rin looked at him from the corner of her eye. As much as she feared him, he was also a source of curiosity. No one in this household seemed to have any spiritual power but for Hikaru, and he seemed unaware of his ability. Even in her human state, she could see that Hikaru was different than the others and his father knew it. He feared his son as he feared Rin. Lord Kaedemori knew enough to recognize her as a Kitsune even when she was trapped in a human body. Which could only mean he had met her kind before. He knew about her world but could not see it, not really, and that, she thought, was the root of the problem.
He spoke as if addressing the shrine itself and Rin was invisible. She wanted to look upon his face and try to read the emotion there, but she did not know how he would react. “Your kind can be cruel, with your tricks. I thought to keep her, but she could not be held.”
You captured a Kitsune? How is that possible? Rin kept her expression neutral though her mind raced. This place was more than a family temple, it had been a prison for one of her own. Her throat clenched and she balled her hands into fists. What happened to the Kitsune? Did she escape, or did she meet some worse fate?
“My son is wed; you cannot take him. I paid my price. You can take nothing more from me. We are even. Remember that.”
Her kind were known to play tricks on humans; she was as guilty as any of her kin. Her sisters had told her of their exploits with men. They often disguised themselves as human women and lured men into their beds. Sometimes they did it for gold, silk, jewelry or maybe just to ease their boredom. If the man was kind or handsome, her sister might bless his house with good fortune, but if he was cruel or tried to take more than was willingly given, she might steal and humiliate them. What Lord Kaedemori alluded to was worse than she could imagine. He had imprisoned a Kitsune and kept her away from the forest and from her family. Surrounded by these holy items for too long, she would have become weaker and weaker; it would have killed her. The rage bubbled inside Rin and eclipsed her fear of Lord Kaedemori. She jumped up and cut the lord off as he tried to leave. She pointed at the shrine. What happened to her?
Lord Kaedemori looked past Rin and into the courtyard. He might as well have been thousands of miles away. She was not sure if he had understood her. The sutras pasted to the eves waved at her, mocking her. They had no power over her in this form, but she was trapped nonetheless by the witch’s spell. The wind rippled the branches of the tree and a few maple leaves fell down onto the ground, like bright drops of blood.
“She died. I killed her,” he replied.
Rin covered her mouth with her hand though no sound would come out. His expression was mild, but she saw the pain that sharpened his gaze and carved lines into his mouth as if he could hold back the tide of his grief. Why! she wanted to scream. If you loved her, why kill her in such a slow and agonizing way?
“You think you are very clever to have deceived my son, but I will not let him suffer as I have.” Then just as quickly as it was revealed, the emotion was snapped shut behind his eyes and the cool and distant lord replaced him.
She smirked at him. Whatever madness had driven him to kill the Kitsune did not matter now. She would revel in the ruin of his treaty. You think you can stop me? I will have vengeance for my kinswoman.
He scowled at her, his eyes burned like twin flames. He hated her, but his anger only fueled her resolve. “You will not leave this place. You should never have come here,” he said.
He turned to walk away. Rin ran after him and grabbed his sleeve. His eyes bulged out of his skull and he shook his arm to rid himself of her. She clawed at his face in a blind rage. He swung his hand backwards and caught her cheek with his hand. The force of it knocked her backwards and she fell onto her backside. She touched her cheek and found a streak of blood from where her lip had split. If I had my powers, I would tear him to shreds. Her emotions were in a jumble. She had never felt this anger before; it churned in her gut fiercer than anything she had felt as a Kitsune. This is what it means to be human, this rage, this complete lack of control. She would scream, tear, bite anything to ease this boiling inside her.
He stood on the steps, his hands balled into fists. He trembled. His eyes narrowed into dark flint sharp enough to cut. Rin stared back at him with a defiant tilt to her head. She had already climbed back onto her feet. She was not so easily defeated. He could knock her down all he liked, she would always get back up.
“You will regret this,” he said, letting his words hang in the air.
She raised a brow, mocking him.
“Save your ire, your time runs short. The priestess comes at dawn to exorcise you.”
14
“You look like you could use a drink.”
Hikaru looked up from his translations and his vision swam. He rubbed his tired eyes with the back of his hand. “Kichirou, do you have any idea what time it is?”
His brother shrugged. He carried a jug of sake and a devious look in his eye, which could only mean trouble.
“What are you doing here?” Hikaru asked.
Kichirou sat down cross-legged across from Hikaru. He rested the jug on his knee. “Like I said, I thought you could use a drink.” He produced two cups and poured the clear liquid into them, dribbling some onto his hands.
“The last time we drank together, I was in bed for a day with a splitting headache,” Hikaru said, looking dubiously at the jug.
Kichirou handed Hikaru a glass and laughed. “I
remember that.” He tossed back his own drink and then poured a second.
Hikaru stared into the cup. The liquid rippled, crashing against the sides. He looked at his own distorted image in the dim light cast by the braziers. His face was sunken and hollow from lack of sleep. He had not rested much since he returned from the Fujikawa clan house. I have not slept the night through since Rin arrived. She was a fever he could not sweat out, no matter how he threw himself into his responsibilities. She constantly hovered at the edges of his mind, taunting him.
“Marriage doesn’t seem to suit you, brother. Perhaps because you’re not utilizing all the benefits.” Kichirou waggled his eyebrows.
We are not having that conversation. Hikaru gulped down the sake. The pleasant burn seeped down his throat, warming his gut. It did not numb his anxieties as he hoped it would, however. It would take much more liquor to bury these feelings.
Hikaru held out his glass to be refilled and said, “I’m sure there’s better drinking companions than me.”
Kichirou nodded his head as he poured his fourth glass. “They’re all busy—something about that mute woman.”
“What!” Hikaru jumped up and leaned forward onto the table between them. He slapped his hand on the lacquered surface. “What happened to Rin?”
His brother tossed back another glass and his eyes shifted to Hikaru. That’s why he came. Hotaru must have sent him to taunt me. The two of them have always been thick as thieves.
Kichirou swirled the jug back and forth and did not answer right away. He looked as if he was contemplating another drink. “They say she’s the one who killed the servant.”
“That’s not possible.” It would have been better to hide his concern; this was what they were waiting for. If Hotaru was looking for Hikaru’s weakness, he had found it in Rin.
Kichirou set the glass down and leaned back. He laced his fingers behind his neck. He looked at Hikaru through slit eyelids. “Lieutenant Rokuro has a witness, I hear.”
Hikaru clenched his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching across the table and shaking information out of his brother. “Who?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“I didn’t ask.”
Hikaru sat back and pinched his brow. If this is some prank of Hotaru’s… He took a deep breath. He couldn’t help Rin if he lost control. But there was no time to sit around and wonder at his brothers’ motives. He had to find out for himself. He jumped to his feet, but his head swam. Perhaps it was the combination of the alcohol and his lack of sleep. He held out a hand to steady himself. When the world stopped spinning, he straightened his robes—which needed no adjusting. His brother watched him, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. He did not blame Kichirou for playing messenger in their brother’s schemes. Kichirou was a pawn, one easily won over with women and drink.
“Excuse me, I’m going to speak with father.” Hikaru bowed to his brother. He would rather dispatch with the niceties given his mood, but habits died hard. He seemed incapable of being rude even when he wanted to be.
When Hikaru reached the door, Kichirou said, “It won’t do you any good.”
He paused at the door. He wanted to strike him, to make him pay for their brother’s scheming, but that would be not only inappropriate but fruitless. Hotaru used Kichirou to shield himself from Hikaru’s anger. If Hotaru had been there, he would not have held back—niceties be damned. With his back turned to his brother, Hikaru said, “We shall see.”
Hikaru marched to his father’s chambers. Despite the late hour, the palace bustled with activity, all of it centered around his father’s audience hall. Two warriors stood guard at the door, backs straight and eyes trained in front of them. The door to his father’s chamber slid open and Captain Sadao stepped out. He was dressed in half armor, wearing a breastplate over his robe and overcoat. The captain bowed when Hikaru approached him.
“I need to speak with my father,” Hikaru said.
The captain looked him up and down. “Lord Kaedemori is not seeing anyone.”
“He will speak with me.” Hikaru squared his shoulders and jutted out his chin in an attempt to look more formidable.
The captain’s expression was made of granite, unmovable. If he thought anything of Hikaru’s attempt at posturing, Hikaru could not tell. The captain stared at Hikaru, his gaze dark and hooded. The moonlight made his eyes look like dark pits. He held his hands at ease at his sides, but his jaw was clenched tight. Hikaru’s anger boiled just beneath the surface and manifested in the tapping of his foot and the reflexive opening and closing of his hand. The man to the right of the captain peered at his companion from the corner of his eye. When he saw Hikaru looking at him, he snapped to attention. Hikaru’s brows pulled together. This was not going as he expected.
“Consider your position. If you disobey me now, it will cost you later,” Hikaru said.
The captain bowed. “My apologies, my lord, but I have my orders.”
Hikaru clenched his hands into fists and turned to walk the other way. His first impulse was to go look for Rin, but he knew if his father had men at his chambers, then Rin would be just as heavily guarded. I should have acted sooner. I saw the signs, but I decided to ignore them.
“My lord!”
Hikaru stopped and waited for a young warrior to catch up to him. He did not recognize the man. He was tall and lean with long brown hair and a mobile mouth that was pulled back in a smile.
“That is no way to greet your superior,” Hikaru snapped back. He had no patience and the admonishment came out without thought. He regretted it as soon as the words escaped his lips. He would never win men to his side by acting superior.
The warrior did not seem to mind. His smile did not fade as he said, “Forgive me, I heard Rin—that is the lady, is imprisoned, is it true?”
Hikaru frowned at the man. He had never heard anyone call Rin by name. Who was this young warrior? Jealousy raised its ugly head. “What is your name?”
“Shin,” the young warrior replied. His smile grew wider, displaying straight white teeth. For a moment Hikaru thought he spotted elongated canines. Hikaru squinted to get a better look, but the warrior closed his mouth—the smile wiped from his face. He looked at Hikaru a little closer with a curious tilt of his eyebrow. They were of an age, and unlike most of his warriors, his hair was long and shaggy. And it may have been a trick of the light, but it appeared he had pointed ears poking out from beneath his hair. I must be imagining things.
Something about this man unsettled Hikaru. He wanted to be rid of him. “Do not speak so informally about Lady Nishimori.”
“My mistake.” He waved away Hikaru’s scolding with an impatient gesture. “Is it true, then? Can you get her out?”
Hikaru looked the man up and down a bit closer. Upon closer inspection, his clothes were not the standard warrior’s colors and he wore no armor
“You are no warrior. Who are you?”
He laughed. “She did not tell me you were so clever. That is rare in a human. No matter, I will rescue her myself.”
“Wait—” The stranger turned to walk away and Hikaru grabbed his sleeve, but as he did, the material deteriorated and crumbled to dust in Hikaru’s hand.
When Hikaru looked up from the smeared ashes in his palm, the man was gone. Hikaru was paralyzed. He had to have imagined it. There was no possible way a man could disappear in the blink of an eye. He spun in a circle to be certain the stranger was not waiting behind him with a knife. Hikaru was alone; only the shadows cast by the pillars of the covered walkway accompanied him. I’m imagining things is all. But the doubt lingered at the back of his mind, like a sore that would not heal. The ashes were still on his hand, no matter how he looked at it. He rubbed his clean hand across his face. I have to do something. He walked because he did not know what else to do. Everyone was asleep. The night insects played their lonely music to the moon. He kept on walking, his feet guiding him while his mind spun in circles. He knew what he had to do, but once he made the
decision, there would be no turning back.
He stopped in front of the rice paper door. The thin barrier felt more like a mountain to be climbed and he was no athlete. He took a deep breath and knocked.
A grumbled reply came from within. Hikaru waited, his hands folded in front of him. He rolled his thumbs over one another. He could not stand still. His mind kept wandering back to Rin. I should have been there to protect her. He listened as heavy footsteps approached. The door slid open a crack. A round face peered at him from within.
“This cannot be good if you are coming to me at this hour.” The door slid open the rest of the way and his uncle, Arata, regarded him with hands folded over his gut.
“Uncle, forgive my late arrival, but this cannot wait.”
His uncle grunted and stepped aside to let Hikaru in. He followed his uncle’s wobbling gait as he thudded on the ground in front of a table with a game of Shogi laid out. The wooden board and white tile pieces looked like men lined up on a battlefield, awaiting the commander’s order before charging forward to certain death.
“What is the problem, then?” Arata asked.
Hikaru wrung his hands together and stared at the board for a moment longer.
“You did not wake me just to play, did you?”
Hikaru shook his head. His throat was too dry. Perhaps he should call for a servant to bring him something to drink.
“I do not have unlimited patience,” his uncle said.
“I’ve realized recently that the men do not respect me, and if I am to rule the clan, I will need to earn that,” Hikaru said. There was more he wanted to say, but even resolved to his task, it left a sour taste in his mouth and he could not speak the words aloud. He met his uncle’s gaze. Arata’s eyes grew large, and his mouth fell open. His uncle read the underlying meaning in his words.
“Your father—”
Kitsune: A Little Mermaid Retelling Page 11