by M. H. Bonham
He noticed the sashimi and rice laid out on a blanket on the ground. There was hot tea as well, and he sat down beside it, trying to get comfortable. As he did, he thought about how wonderful the previous night had been—and how empty he felt now. Windstorm had been a wonderful lover, yet now he felt only sad and alone. Had she felt anything when they’d made love? Did she even care? And what would a centuries-old Tengu think of a boy who was only seventeen?
He couldn’t help but feel guilty. The knot in his stomach tightened, and he felt as if he had done something wrong. But it wasn’t as if the Tengu had given him much of a choice. They would’ve killed him or worse. He closed his eyes. He wondered what Ikumi would think of this.
Ikumi. The name brought a stab of pain to his heart. She had done everything she could to keep him from learning that he was half Tengu—and had paid a dreadful price. Despite Windstorm’s assurances that if he honored his contract to become Tengu, the Tengu might grant clemency, he still worried. The Tengu in legends could be dishonorable and were prone to trickery. Still, she was alive, and that was something.
He ate in silence, trying to force the thoughts from his mind, but he just couldn’t. What had happened to the people in his father’s estate? What had happened to the samurai and the ashigaru? Did his father’s warriors die valiantly, or did they live only to commit seppuku? He didn’t know, and it troubled him.
Kasumi’s face appeared in his mind, and he felt a pang of regret. He had genuinely liked the woman samurai, finding her both beautiful and mysterious. He had even felt an attraction to her in the short time he had known her. He doubted she missed him now that he was gone; she had known him only a little while. He thought of Jiro and his boast, what had brought him to the Tengu.
Everything seemed so distant to Akira now. Jiro’s insults and boasts seemed ludicrous at best. Did he and Kasumi die in the Tengu attack? He felt a pang of guilt again. Like it or not, it had been Akira’s actions that had set everything in motion. If Akira hadn’t trained with the Karasu-Tengu, if he hadn’t risen to Jiro’s insults and jibes, if he hadn’t so desperately wanted to impress Kasumi, if he hadn’t gone after the dragon himself, he wouldn’t have turned into a Tengu. His mother wouldn’t be exiled as a hawk, and his father’s estate wouldn’t be in ruins.
His mind returned to his old sensei, Rokuro. Had Windstorm told him the truth that Rokuro was still alive? If he were, the old samurai would be searching for him. Maybe Rokuro would mount an expedition to find him. Yet even as he hoped, deep down he knew that Rokuro was dead and these creatures had killed him.
But then there was his father, Takeshi Isao. What would he do when he found out that his son and wife were taken by the Tengu? Akira could only hazard a guess. His father would return, but what could he do against the Tengu? Akira didn’t know. After having tasted the power of these kami, Akira doubted strongly Takeshi could do anything.
He looked down at the half-eaten rice and sashimi. It was all very good, and by all rights, he should be hungry, but his thoughts had taken away his appetite. He didn’t want to be Tengu, not really. He had been happy to be samurai with an occasional yearning for something greater. He had wanted to be a great fighter but not at the cost of his humanity. The sex with Windstorm had been more than he ever thought sex would be, but she really didn’t like him. She was simply using him. He began to understand why his mother had left the Tengu.
Stormhammer, came a male Tengu voice in his head. He turned and saw Windcatcher waiting for him. The Tengu clacked his sharp beak together and glared down at Akira. Aren’t you finished with your meal? You have training to do.
#
Kasumi dried her long black hair with the thin towels Tenko had provided her. The bathing water was cold, and he had only rice bran to wash with, but at least Tenko gave Kasumi privacy while she changed into human form and cleaned up, putting a shoji screen up where there had been no walls. When she was done, she found he had left a tunic and pants of rough material beside her obi and swords. She dressed quickly and walked out of the hut to find Tenko washing her muddied clothing.
“I am sorry, Naotaka-sama, that I could not give you more fine clothing, but your own clothes are a mess.” He rinsed the fine silk and began to squeeze the water out.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked.
“Your clothes are muddy.” He didn’t bother looking up from the wash.
“No, I mean, why are you helping me?”
Tenko shrugged. “The daimyo’s son has a good heart.”
Kasumi snorted then paused. “You know Akira?”
“I have seen him from time to time. The boy has strength few know about. The Tengu wouldn’t bother with him if he wasn’t important. Something to think about, Neko-sama.”
Kasumi shook her head. She didn’t want to think about Akira except to bring him back home. She didn’t have the luxury of choice, and no matter how appealing the young samurai might be, she couldn’t afford to be emotionally bound to him.
#
They spent most of the day repacking food and planning their next step. Despite Kasumi’s arguments, Tenko made her agree to wait in the hut while he scouted around. “After all,” he said, “some creatures would be too afraid to show themselves to a big tiger like you.”
Hardly mollified, Kasumi watched from the hut as the fox slipped away as the sun set. She held a chipped cup of lukewarm tea that had been steeped in low-grade leaves and mixed with rice to add substance. She walked back into the hut and tried to make herself comfortable at the hearth before falling into an uneasy sleep.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Windcatcher brought Akira to another part of the forest, where the hill was steep and his footing slippery. Windcatcher tossed a bokken to Akira. Akira caught it, trying to ignore that his hands had become almost paw like, with long nails and darkened skin. The feathers from his wings extended down his arms, and he wondered how long he would continue with this metamorphosis. He wondered if he could shapeshift back into his old body.
Windcatcher clacked his beak to get Akira’s attention. Stormhammer, today you will show me your sword work.
Certainly you know how it is since you sent the Karasu-Tengu to train me. You know I’m not that good.
The Tengu did not reply. Instead, he bowed to Akira. Akira hesitated for a moment then resigned himself to training. He bowed to Windcatcher and took the ready stance. Perhaps if he showed Windcatcher what he knew, the Tengu would accept his limitations.
Windcatcher charged, swinging the wooden sword, in an attempt to surprise Akira. But Rokuro had taught Akira to expect such attacks, and Akira blocked and countered, despite the steep hill. Windcatcher swung again. This time Akira stepped to the side and let the attack pass by before smacking the Tengu with his bokken. Windcatcher squawked, reminding Akira of a chicken in the yard, and Akira laughed, despite himself.
You find this amusing? Windcatcher’s voice was reproachful.
Akira shrugged. “I didn’t think I could get inside your guard.”
“All right.” The Tengu charged again. Just when Akira was going to block and counter, Windcatcher leaped into the air and with a ferocious beating of his wings and attacked Akira from the air. Windcatcher caused Akira to lose his balance and he slipped and fell to the ground, sliding down the hill.
“Not fair!” Akira said as he took two blows before blocking the attack.
Battle isn’t fair, Windcatcher said. He smacked Akira along the side of the head.
Akira reeled. Why were they doing this to him? What purpose did it serve for them to injure him? He twisted around and forced his wings to beat so he could gain some ground. The blows came faster and more painfully. He wanted to be anywhere but here…
Akira screamed and suddenly he was no longer there. He found himself high in the air, looking down on the island. Then Windcatcher was there with him, swinging his bokken. Akira backed up but found he hadn’t the skill to back up properly with his wings. He fell. Windcatcher came afte
r him, swinging his wooden sword.
Akira twisted in midair and tried to focus on transporting himself again. This time he found himself over the water, with Windcatcher right behind him. He blocked and fled, hoping to evade the Tengu, but Windcatcher seemed to anticipate every move. Bruised and battered, Akira folded his wings and plummeted into the water.
Before he splashed into the ocean, he took a breath. He didn’t know if the Tengu would follow him into the water, but Akira knew that the bokken wouldn’t have the same impact when Windcatcher raised it to pummel him.
Akira dived deep into the water. As a human, he had learned to swim as part of his samurai training, but he had no idea how the wings and feathers would act in the water. He didn’t know if the Tengu could swim, so he held his breath and continued downward into the ocean.
He swam into the murkiness toward a coral reef that lay below. Myriads of fish darted among the brightly colored corals and swam past him in a flurry. He puzzled for a moment at the muddy water but was glad for the cover it provided. It would make it harder for Windcatcher to spot him in the ocean.
The cold water caused his lungs to burn, but he swam downward, letting escape as few air bubbles as he dared. He felt the currents in the water wrap around him, and he closed his eyes. His mind went back to the Karasu-Tengu they had used to lure him. The Karasu-Tengu had been so much more understanding than this Taka-Tengu, but he now understood it had been a trick.
Akira wanted to die but didn’t even have a proper tanto to kill himself. Perhaps dying beneath the waves would keep them from me, he thought. The urgency to expel the bad air and breathe in grew frantic, and for a moment, he almost succumbed to them. He let the last of the bad air out and was going to open his mouth and let the water fill his lungs.
Little Tengu!
Akira twisted around. A creature, translucent among the murk, flowed around him. A suijin, or water kami, moved around him like a current. At first Akira thought it might be a kappa—one of the dangerous river sprites who would drown unsuspecting swimmers or worse—but the suijin didn’t look like the kappa in legends, so he suspected it was a benign water kami.
He opened up his mouth to speak but got a mouthful of salt water.
The suijin ran its hand along his mouth, and a large air bubble formed around it. He coughed and the water came out of his mouth. What is a wind kami doing here in my domain?
Akira coughed again. The creature looked at him with large, luminous eyes filled with curiosity. I’m sorry suijin-san. I am trying to flee the Tengu called Windcatcher.
Why? The suijin swirled around him. Why would you flee your own?
I’m not a Tengu.
You look Tengu.
Akira snorted. I am samurai. My mother was Tengu.
You are part human? Interesting. The suijin considered him thoughtfully. You do not wish to be Tengu?
Akira fell silent, not knowing what to say. He had said he wanted to be Tengu to the Karasu-Tengu he had met, but seeing how they lived, he didn’t really want to be one. Yes, he would live forever but without human contact. He could train with other Tengu, but for what purpose? He could call the winds into a storm, but to what purpose?
The suijin smiled, showing sharp teeth glistening in a watery mouth. The Tengu often drive us into a frenzy with their storms. There was one last night.
There was? Akira almost gasped but held his voice neutral. He remembered his dalliance with Windstorm that night and how he had brought forth a violent storm. He had almost forgotten about it in his passion.
You did not see?
Not exactly. Akira considered the suijin. He knew nothing more of water kami save that they could be treacherous. While he doubted this one could drown him, he didn’t entirely trust it, especially if they were anything like the Tengu. Still, the creature hadn’t harmed him either.
I will show you. The suijin started upward.
Akira stared. You want me to follow?
Yes. I promise I will not take you back to the Tengu.
All right. Akira swam after the flickering water kami. The air pocket seemed to never empty and stayed with him as he swam. The water became murkier as the coral gave way to sand. It was very hard to see, and the suijin had to double back several times when Akira lost sight of it. The kami finally took his hand and pulled him forward into the shallows. He swam slowly, and as his feet touched the sand, he peered out over the water.
The remnants of the storm were clear. The muddy, green-gray waves were oddly rough. Looking up into the sky, he could see the clouds beginning to darken, but saw no sign of Windcatcher or any other Tengu. The water kami slapped his shoulder, and he turned to look at what the kami wanted him to see.
He stood in the shallow harbor at the northeast side of the island, staring at what remained of the little fishing village that used to sit there. Where there had been several huts, he saw nothing more that shattered timbers and flotsam. The pier had disappeared; only the thick, upright logs that supported the docks still remained. A few people were picking up bits of whatever they could find useful, but there were only a handful out of what had to have been a few hundred in the village.
“Where are their boats?”
Gone—all gone, the suijin said in a quiet mental voice. All wiped away by the storm.
Akira felt a lump in his throat. What had the Tengu made him do? He had no idea that calling the storm would bring ruin to these people. “How many died?”
The suijin said nothing.
“Couldn’t you have stopped it?” He turned to the translucent creature, wanting to vent his anger and frustration on it.
How, Stormhammer? How? The water kami looked on him with translucent eyes. When the Tengu call us, we must obey. None of the elemental kami can fight a Tengu’s power. None save Suijin himself.
Akira shook his head. “I had no idea.”
The powerful must be responsible for their actions, the water kami said. Certainly you knew this.
Akira shook his head again. He hadn’t thought of the control he had over the winds as being something he forced the winds to do. Nor had he thought of the water kami. How many things did he control with his powers? And would they listen to him if he asked?
The suijin seemed to know what he was thinking. “They didn’t tell you, did they? They didn’t tell you that we serve the greater kami because that is what we must do?”
“No,” Akira whispered. “I’m so sorry I made you do this.”
The water kami shook its head. You may be sorry, but it is not I who needs to make amends. With that, the water kami left him, standing cold and alone in the water.
Chapter Fifty
Kasumi awoke from her sound sleep to the breeze rustling the tree branches against the hut’s thatched roof. She lay there for a while, listening to the wind as it made the walls shudder in its grasp. The room was dark, and beyond the shoji screen, she could hear Tenko’s low snores in the corner of the hut. He had graciously given her the pallet, choosing to sleep on some rice sacks stuffed with straw in the corner. She wondered how the kitsune could sleep through the wind’s racket.
Probably used to such things, she thought.
She shivered under the thin blanket. The coarse cotton scratched her unlike the fine spun silk or even wool she preferred. She suspected it might have been warm at one time, but it was filthy and stained; the fibers had lost most of their integrity. She frowned. She’d be warmer if she changed into a cat, but she wanted to keep her human wits about her. Changing into a cat often dulled her human intelligence and required focus to maintain that intelligence while in feline form.
Listening to the wind pound against the hut made her yearn for home. As much as she liked Tsuitori, the weather reminded her of the stormy island of her people. The wind kami would often tear across the island mercilessly while her people worked the tea fields of its mountains.
She sighed, sliding her feet to the edge of the pallet and putting on the soft tabi socks and sandals before letting
them settle in the floor’s dust. Her samurai clothes were probably not dry yet, so she had to make do with the rough cotton clothing Tenko had provided. She tied her hair back again and slipped her kamishimo over the peasant garb, fastening the obi with the two swords around her waist.
She slowly opened the door and peered out. The sky was a mix of clouds dotted with an occasional star. The first moon shone ghostly silver, lighting up the cloudbanks with its white light. The cold air slapped at her face, and the wind pulled at her jacket. She breathed in slowly through her nostrils, taking in the night wind’s scents. A familiar odor tickled her nostrils.
Kasumi stepped out and quietly closed the door behind herself. A shadow flitted from one bush to another on the edge of the forest.
Come, my sister. Tell me why you are here, Kasumi mindspoke to the dark shape beneath the pine tree.
A tail flickered as Kasumi made out the dark outline of a leopard beneath the tree. I bear news from the Guardian, the creature said. Nanashi has sent a samurai fleet to destroy the Neko. We cannot hold out without help.
Kasumi shook her head. There have been complications—I have not had a chance to speak to Takeshi. What of the other samurai clans, my sister?
A low growl emanated from the leopard’s throat. None have offered to join the cause.
What of the Shinobi?
The leopard’s growl grew into a snarl. The Shinobi are mercenaries. Nanashi has bought their fealty. You must speak with Takeshi. It is the only way you can save our clan.
Kasumi chewed her lip. That may not be easy. The Tengu have taken both his wife and son.
The Tengu? What use would they have with his wife and son?
I do not know.
The leopard sat up, turned, and began grooming her coat. Her large, rough tongue ran over the spotted fur like a comb. Kasumi waited patiently, knowing the big cat was thinking. When the leopard turned back to her, she could see the cat had come to a decision.
You were planning on finding his wife and son?