The servant bowed low to the ground, his forehead nearly pressed against the floor, before he exited to do Hikaru’s bidding.
Hikaru stood up and paced the length of the room while he waited for the priestess. He tugged at a loose thread on the hem of his sleeve, worrying at it, unraveling it and exposing the raw silk. He let it be and faced away from the door. He ran his hands through his hair and hovered over the parallel scars on the top of his head. They were from an injury he had sustained when he was too young to even recall. From time to time, the spots itched—usually when he was under duress. He ran his fingers along the smooth skin, it soothed him for some mad reason. He closed his eyes.
The door clacked against the track as the servant let the priestess into his audience room. He took a deep breath. He could see the silhouette of the woman through the transparent rice-paper doors. The servant rolled the door open. An old woman sat with her head bowed; her long white braid fell over her shoulder. She wore the red and white of a miko, but even if she hadn’t been, he would have known what she was just from looking at her. He felt an aura about her, a shimmering veil that surrounded her. It wasn’t often that he saw these sorts of things, and most often he disregarded them, but after everything he had seen as of late, it was harder to forget. As he approached, she lifted her head. Her dark eyes pierced him through as if she could read his thoughts. That is preposterous, he thought. No human can see that.
“Thank you for coming,” Hikaru said as he sat down across from her.
“The pleasure is mine, my lord.” She folded her wrinkled hands onto the tabletop. Not once did her dark gaze leave his face. There was a hint of a smile that brushed the corner of her lips. “How may I be of service?”
Staring into her ageless eyes, he could believe that all the strange things that had happened to him as of late were real. There was an unearthly quality to this woman, as if there were centuries’ worth of knowledge hidden behind her placid gaze. He sat with his back straight and his fists planted on his thighs. No matter how he rehearsed what he wanted to say in his mind, he could not force the words out. Because once spoken it would mean admitting Rin was something other than human.
“I believe there is a strange woman in your household. She does not act as a lady should, am I correct?” the old priestess asked without prompting.
“Yes—my father must have mentioned it when he summoned you.”
“He did. I am surprised it is not Lord Kaedemori who greeted me,” she replied.
“My father is indisposed. As heir, I have taken over his duties for the time being.” It had taken a lot of cajoling to get his father to hand over control of this matter. He knew Lord Kaedemori still thought him possessed or bewitched, but he needed to prove to his father that he could take responsibility.
“Is that so?” The old woman smiled. It stretched out her wrinkles and enveloped her eyes until they nearly disappeared beneath the extra flesh.
Hikaru cleared his throat. “You will want time to purify yourself and prepare, I am sure.”
“She is beautiful.”
“Pardon?” The back of his neck burned and his throat constricted.
“This young woman, she is beautiful. You found her by the side of the road, is that right?”
Hikaru cleared his throat. “My father told you much.”
She chuckled softly. “No, he did not. I have just dealt with her kind before.”
“Perhaps—” he started to say, but the priestess cut him off before he could utter a denial.
“You are in love with her, I can see it.”
Hikaru stood up without thinking. He realized too late his reaction spoke more than words ever could have. He glanced down at the priestess and considered a carefully worded warning, but he could not make the words pass his lips. “I will leave you to your prayers.”
She watched him go, her dark eyes focused on him. The flesh along his arms prickled as he hurried out of the room and back into his own inner private sanctum. He slid down to the ground, his heart pounding. I cannot love her. It is an infatuation, nothing more. Besides, she’s some sort of monster. The servant returned and escorted the priestess out. Hikaru leaned forward and cradled his head in his hands.
He jerked upright when a knock came from the door that separated his private chambers from his audience room.
He stood up and brushed himself off. “Speak.”
The door slid open enough to reveal the servant kneeling just beyond the threshold, head bent forward.
“My lord, your uncle is here to see you.”
Hikaru glanced past the servant to his uncle, who sat where the priestess had been moments before. Hikaru’s limbs felt as if they were hung with stones. He looked over his shoulder to his futon; the bedding looked very enticing. I should send him away. Hikaru sighed before nodding at the servant, who pulled back the door the rest of the way so he could join his uncle.
“You may be clan elder sooner than we expected,” his uncle said before Hikaru could settle in.
“What do you mean?” His uncle’s words were like a cold bucket of water dropped over him.
“Lord Kaedemori killed his serving man this morning. He slashed his throat.”
Hikaru grasped at his own throat. “No!” What sudden madness had taken hold of his father? Was this Rin’s doing? Was it some Kitsune spell?
“He has lost all control. You must make your move; you have to take control before your brother does.”
Hikaru pinched his brow. Everything was moving too fast. He’d thought he had time, years before this day would arrive. There is no turning back now; the wheels are in motion. His uncle looked at him, expecting an answer. He realized the moment he had gone to him for advice, he had been setting the stage for this moment. “I will not take control completely until I know for sure my father cannot be cured. For now, gather the men who are loyal to you, and let it be known I will be acting on my father’s behalf.”
“And if the men revolt and claim it treason?”
Hikaru suppressed a shudder. Now more than ever was the time to be strong.
“Then do what you must, but make it bloodless if you can. I do not want to be seen as a tyrant.”
His uncle nodded. “I will see it done. And what shall you do?”
It was a challenge and Hikaru knew it. He also knew the proper answer would be to speak with those noblemen in the clan who could make his rise to elder easier—but his mind kept going back to Rin.
“I will be taking care of a few things. We will meet again, later.”
He stood up before his uncle could pin him with any more questions. He hurried out the door and down the hall. He could not hide from it anymore. He had to see Rin. He wanted to speak with her even if she could not tell him with her own mouth. He wanted to know for certain if she was a Kitsune. Was she a monster, or was this a misunderstanding? Had she been the woman who saved him from the boar?
The temple where she was held captive had been a place of fear for him from a young age. He had memories of his mother there. He had been young when she died, but her gaunt face stretched tight over angular bones still haunted him. That was his only memory of her—a ghost lingering about the temple. The servants claimed she was possessed; others swore she had been a Kitsune his father had lured into the palace then trapped there. His father denied it all with his silence, never speaking of the matter, so Hikaru had learned to pretend the strange things he saw were not real. He had been successful in blocking them out until he had met that fox woman in the forest. All his life he had made an art of doubting, but he was starting to run out of excuses.
Four guards stood at the end of the hall as he approached. They all drew their swords in unison.
“You cannot pass,” the nearest warrior said.
“Move aside,” Hikaru said with a sweep of his arm.
The warrior did not move. He stared at Hikaru with a grim determined expression. He would cut Hikaru down if he had the chance.
“We have come to see the lady,”
the priestess said from behind him.
Hikaru looked at the old woman who stood at his elbow, then back to the guard.
“She is here to exorcise the evil spirits from the house and Lady Nishimori,” Hikaru said.
The man frowned at them. His brows pulled together, creating a V over his eyes. After a moment of careful scrutiny, he bowed and then stepped aside. One by one the warriors backed up and bowed to Hikaru. I must learn to command men, as I will be lord here.
Hikaru gestured with his hand for the old woman to go first. She hurried down the hall into the courtyard beyond. Now that he was close to her, he felt the guilt of his actions from the night before like a stone upon his chest. He had seen Rin with that monster and had fled. I should have tried to understand. What if she was in danger? I am a coward. He intended to avoid her gaze, but his eyes were drawn to her. She knelt before the shrine in the courtyard, her back to him, her head bowed in prayer. He wanted to comfort her, to try to explain. He looked down at his feet; there were bloodstains on the wooden floor. He looked away. The warrior’s death was an all-too-painful reminder of just how different Rin was.
The priestess approached Rin directly. She moved about with a self-assured air—she did not seem to fear her. Rin turned and her eyes went straight to Hikaru. Instead of anger or sadness, there was only a blank reservation in her gaze, which hurt like a punch to the gut.
He could not meet her gaze, so he watched them from the corner of his eye. Rin’s eyes slid from him and glided over to the witch, where they stayed transfixed. The priestess grabbed Rin by the chin and turned her face from side to side. She dropped her hand and then reached into a bag. She pulled out a handful of salt and sprinkled it around the courtyard, singing as she did so.
Rin’s eyes were glued to the woman. She looked torn between fear and hatred.
“She is possessed by a spirit who has not found rest,” the priestess said.
She reached into the folds of her robes and removed a long narrow piece of white paper with black characters painted onto it; it was an ofuda. She chanted over the paper and it seem to flutter and come alive in her hand. She placed the ofuda on Rin’s forehead. Rin’s eyes crossed as she looked at the paper, but she did not move. Hikaru held his breath, hoping beyond hope that there was nothing wrong with Rin. And then the priestess sang. It was a melancholy song, the words blending together to create a string of incomprehensible syllables. Then Rin threw her head back, her mouth open, and pouring forth from her mouth, a black miasma. It created a cloud over her head and coalesced into a humanoid shape.
Hikaru held his breath, watching as a woman with long black hair and dark eyes stared at him. She seemed familiar to him though he could not say how.
“Speak your name, spirit!” the priestess commanded.
“I am Sayuri,” said the apparition.
“Mother?” Hikaru shouted without thinking.
The apparition turned and looked at Hikaru. “My son,” she said in a hollow ringing voice full of sadness. “What has he done to you?” Silver tears slid down her face.
“Why have you taken hold of this woman’s body?” the priestess asked the spirit of Sayuri. The priestess threw her arms out as she spoke.
“For revenge.” The apparition flickered and looked back to Hikaru with translucent eyes. He wanted to reach out and touch her. Could this really be his mother, who had been taken from him at such a tender age? “My husband murdered me. He trapped me here because he feared my true nature.” She motioned to the courtyard with a sweep of her hand.
“And what is that?”
Sayuri answered the priestess but did not take her gaze from Hikaru. It felt as if they were the only two there. “I am a Kitsune. My husband, Yoshirou, found me in the forest and fell in love with me. He married me, not knowing what I was. When he discovered my true nature, after our son was born, he grew angry and locked me here to rot.”
“Was your son different than a normal child?” the priestess asked, her voice rising and falling like a chant.
“Yes. He was born with fox ears and a tail.”
Hikaru stumbled backwards and fell onto his rear. His hand went to his head and felt the parallel scars. This must be a trick. It cannot be true!
“Well, revenge is yours,” the priestess shouted. “As we speak, your son is to take control of the clan.”
Hikaru whipped his head towards the priestess. How could she know? He had only just given the order himself.
The spirit reached out to Hikaru with a hand made of black vapor. “Is this true, my son?”
Hikaru’s throat had clamped shut. I cannot be a Kitsune. I am a human! He wanted to shout at her, deny that this was real. But the doubts he had secretly harbored his entire life had been exposed. The whispers he had pretended not to hear were revealed.
“It is true,” he choked out, his voice a thin impostor.
“Then I can find peace again.”
She pressed her hands to her chest and tilted her head back and skyward. She glowed with a bright white light, and with one last sad look at Hikaru, she disappeared, dissipating like mist in the morning. Hikaru’s hands trembled as he clutched the hems of his sleeves, balling them into his fists.
The priestess looked down at Rin, who had fallen over to the side, her arm stretched out, pointing to the shrine behind her. I should go to Rin, but I cannot make my body obey my commands. Footsteps approached him from behind.
“Is it done, my lord?” one of the guards asked.
When he opened his mouth to speak, bile threatened to spill out instead. He swallowed hard and then said, “Yes, the spirit is gone.”
“Your father—he murdered your noble mother,” said another guard.
“Yes, it is true. Lord Kaedemori brought this evil upon this house, which plagued this woman,” the priestess said. She pointed at Rin, who lay unconscious on the ground. “The Kami who rules this house holds the Kitsune sacred. To kill one goes against the god’s will. Lord Kaedemori has defiled this place with his actions. Go to your fellows and tell them what you have seen here.”
They bowed to her and ran to do her bidding. Hikaru could not even open his mouth to stop them. He crawled over to Rin and stared down at her sleeping face. He traced his fingers across her cheeks. What have I done by bringing you here?
Whispers traveled fast in the palace. Hotaru’s spies had been in a flutter since his father had been locked away, by Hikaru, no less. What game was his brother playing? He could not be thinking of seizing control, could he? The lords were scrambling, looking for a leader in this time of chaos. Now was Hotaru’s chance to prove he was worthy to be the next elder. And finally he could get it, with the right backing. So here he was, outside his uncle’s doorway. His father’s sole surviving sibling was in some ways equal to their father in influence in the clan. Hotaru took a breath. This next step meant there was no turning back, no pretending he was happy with his place as second son. But seeing the palace fall apart brick by brick, through uncertainty, magic and danger, he felt as if he was being torn apart little by little along with it. I cannot let my brother destroy us.
He slid open the door an inch. His hands shook. He dared not have a servant announce him; the fewer people that knew about this rendezvous, the better—he had not even sent his uncle a message to let him know he was coming. Rumors would fly and he needed the advantage of surprise if he hoped to take control of the clan from his brother.
“If you’re coming in, do it,” his uncle called from within.
Hotaru slid the door open the rest of the way and slipped inside, closing the door behind him. His uncle looked up from his Shogi board. He did not seem surprised to see him, which meant Hikaru had been here, as the whispers said.
“Nephew.” He looked away from Hotaru and back to his board.
Hotaru sat down across from his uncle, on the opponent’s side of the board. His uncle, one of the greatest generals and right hand of his father; Hotaru was in awe. How long had he dreamed of being in
this position, asking for his uncle’s advice, but never daring because of the order of his birth? He felt elated and maybe a bit reckless for doing this. But he could no longer watch idly as his brother obsessed over a Kitsune, oblivious to the problems that were plaguing the clan. His father had imprisoned the Kitsune, but he knew that would not last. Hikaru always found ways to get what he wanted. The neighboring clans were looking for any weakness, any flaw, and he was handing it to them on a silver platter. His affair with the Kitsune could only end in scandal, and now he was trying to seize control before his time. Did he want to destroy them all? Or was this the Kitsune’s plan? Hotaru refused to stand aside any longer.
“Uncle, I think you know why I am here.”
He nodded but did not look up. “You want to usurp your brother’s position as future elder.”
Hotaru bit his tongue, silencing a childish excuse. It sounded so blunt coming from his uncle’s mouth. But his uncle was not a man to mince words. It was something Hotaru admired about him. But as Hotaru was a second son, so was his uncle, and he knew even aspiring for his brother’s place went against every law and tradition.
“Usurp is an ugly word. I merely mean to protect our clan and heritage.”
“Will you steal his wife and kill him? Because if you do not have the backing of the Fujikawas, you have nothing.”
He took the rebuff with a stony expression. He had expected some resistance; his uncle was a man of honor. And what man would plot a coup? But he also knew his uncle was open to hearing his side when he did not silence him immediately. “I know that. And I am prepared to marry Lady Fujikawa if that is what it takes. But I will not kill my brother. I thought to offer him exile.”
His uncle shook his head. “And wait for him to raise an army to come and usurp you?”
“What man would follow him, when his own men despise him?”
His uncle glared at Hotaru, measuring him, waiting for him to back down. Like the pieces on the Shogi board, his uncle used his words to manipulate, cornering his opponent to get the desired result. In essence, this was a test. How far was Hotaru willing to go to win what he sought? He thought he had the resolve, he was willing to sacrifice it all for the good of the clan, but killing his brother, that was where he drew the line. He might find him unfit to rule and selfish to a fault, but he was still his own blood.
Kitsune: A Little Mermaid Retelling Page 13