by M. H. Bonham
He cried aloud in both joy and longing, his voice reedy and thin in the cool dawn air. Akira didn’t care. He wanted so desperately to go home. He looked to the other hawk, but she was gone. He slowly circled Yutsui, drawing in the sights, sounds, and smells of the village as he flew. He then turned and started his descent toward his home.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Week after week, Tenko entered the shrine of Kuan Yin, asking if Kasumi was well enough to return to Tsuitori. Kuan Yin was always equivocal and showed the kitsune Kasumi while she slept. Each time, he had been forced to give up one of his precious tails. Each time, Kuan Yin took the tail and left, telling him to return in a week.
Tenko was not amused by this, suspecting the goddess of outtricking him, the trickster. But she had promised to make Kasumi well, and he doubted that Kuan Yin would go back on her word. Still, each time she took a tail, it angered him, and to show his displeasure, he ate all the food offerings for her.
He was running out of tails. He had given seven to the goddess. Still, he suspected he knew her game, and in the end, he hoped to have the final trick. Tenko didn’t bother taking human form anymore while he was in the temple.
Kuan Yin was waiting for him as he stepped toward the shrine’s altar. She had a small smile on her face. “I see my little kitsune is back. You’ve been causing trouble.”
Tenko smiled but it was more like baring his teeth than a warm smile. What sort of trouble?
“It appears that the food offerings people have left me disappear on the days when you’re here.”
Tenko swished his two tails thoughtfully. What an extraordinary coincidence. I wonder how that happened.
Kuan Yin’s mouth drew into a thin smile. “I think we both know, troublemaker, what happened to those offerings.”
Tenko shrugged. Where is Kasumi?
“She is safe. She will stay with me.”
Then I do not know where the offerings have gone. In fact, I suspect the offerings will disappear every day from now on. Tenko swished his tails.
“You have been taking my offerings.”
Have I?
The goddess frowned. “You won’t get Kasumi back.”
The kitsune shrugged. I’ve already resigned myself to that. When I leave here, I shall tell everyone that the goddess of mercy is not merciful and does not honor her word. Instead, she takes Tenko’s tails and leaves him empty pawed.
“But evidently not empty bellied.” Kuan Yin laughed. “Very well, little fox. Give me your tail, and you shall have Kasumi.”
Kasumi first, if you please.
Kuan Yin looked as though she might get angry but instead smiled. “Very well, my little fox.” She waved her hand, and Kasumi stood there in her human form, dressed in a fine kamishimo and hakama and carrying the two samurai swords. She looked confused as she looked from Kuan Yin to Tenko.
“What is going on?” Kasumi looked at the fox. “Tenko?”
Tenko grasped one of his tails and pulled it off. He handed Kuan Yin the tail. We are now even, he said.
“What about my offerings?” Kuan Yin asked.
You have my word, I will not take your offerings, the fox replied.
Kuan Yin snorted. “Very well, my little kitsune. Until we meet again.” With that, the goddess vanished.
Kasumi stared at the place where Kuan Yin had stood. “Who was that? Where have I been?”
Tenko hopped up to the altar and began eating the rice cakes and other offerings.
“Hey, what are you doing? You promised you wouldn’t do that!” Kasumi stepped forward to shoo the fox away.
Tenko snarled and snapped at her hand. I lied. That’s her price for taking my tails.
Kasumi looked down as if noticing for the first time Tenko had only one tail now. “What happened to your tails?”
Nice of you to notice, sneered Tenko. That was Kuan Yin’s price for healing you from the demon-sickness.
“That was Kuan Yin?”
Tenko nodded his head. You don’t remember anything, do you?
“I was sick from the demon,” Kasumi said. “I must have passed out. Then I woke up here—in this clothing. What does that mean?”
It means it’s time for us to find your young samurai, the kitsune said. I’ll fill you in on what has happened while you’ve been gone.
#
Akira flew over his old home. A thrill ran through him. He could go home; perhaps he could even find his father and tell him what happened to Ikumi. Maybe Takeshi could figure out a way to find Ikumi and bring her back home. Maybe Akira could find Rokuro and train with him again. Maybe he could finally prove he was the samurai they wanted him to be.
Even as he circled to land, he knew his life would be terribly different. The Tengu would not allow him to return to the same life. Even so, he couldn’t help wondering if just by telling his father of their abduction that maybe Takeshi would be able to come up with a solution. Maybe he could negotiate with the Tengu.
Akira swooped down toward home. Suddenly he heard a scream above him. He twisted in midair in time to see a Tengu carrying a naginata and heading right for him. Unlike the practice weapons, the blade was made not of wood, but of steel. Akira turned into his Tengu form. He barely had time to draw his katana and parry the naginata as the deadly scythe-like pole arm came crashing down on him.
Akira’s wings beat furiously as he tried to keep his speed and height in the air. The other Tengu had the higher position and the advantage, with both position and weapon. Akira blocked the next blow, turned, and plummeted in a dive. The Tengu followed him, swinging his naginata as he did so. Akira felt the blade clip his tail feathers but didn’t stop as they approached the ground. He twisted around and let the Tengu overshoot his position.
Akira didn’t look back. He fled in the opposite direction as fast as he could fly. He hoped he could outrun the Tengu. Then he saw a group of armed Tengu heading toward him.
“What are you doing?” he demanded. The Tengu did not answer him but flew straight at him. Akira turned again and dived, hoping to put trees between him and the Tengu. As he did, he saw three more Tengu come up from the forest.
Akira drew his wakizashi as well. It appeared that he would have to fight his way out. And at ten-to-one odds, he doubted he would win. But, he reminded himself, I am samurai. I should not be afraid to die.
The other Tengu slowed as he stood in ready stance: katana held nearly parallel over his head and wakizashi in his left hand, ready to block or cut. He watched them as they circled warily. Akira kept his eyes on them as he considered his options. He decided to call out to the winds to help him, assuming any would.
The South Wind came to his bidding, bringing storm clouds from nearby. The wind blew, separating the Tengu from him. The clouds rumbled with thunder as he called them, and lightning flashed around him. The Tengu circled like a pack of angry dogs as Akira called lightning down on them.
At first Akira’s power rumbled through the Tengu like a tornado. The whirlwinds were so strong, he charged straight into them and attacked with such ferocity that even the Tengu fell back. But their numbers were great, and soon Akira found himself fighting for his life. Bo and katana slammed into him, and though they bruised him and cut him, he continued fighting in fury. His body healed as fast as the other Tengu’s, and the slices and cuts did little damage.
Their sheer numbers overwhelmed him, and for a moment before he was knocked unconscious, he saw the Tengu as a gigantic wave crashing down on him. He had the desperate sensation of drowning before he fell unconscious and knew no more.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Kasumi sat in Tenko’s hut and dug carefully through her things. After Tenko had told her the story of how she had succumbed to demon-sickness and how he had begged Kuan Yin to heal her, she felt confused. The kitsune she had known had been wily and treacherous kami, more likely to harm than help humans and other kami.
But Tenko was different. He appeared to care about her, but why? She discounte
d anything sexual; she saw nothing in his eyes or demeanor that suggested his interest in her physically. So it came down to what she was and why he thought it was important for her to live.
Odd that a kitsune would recognize demon-sickness, she thought. She didn’t know a lot about the kitsune, but she suspected they had little knowledge of killing oni.
The door to the hut opened, and Tenko came in. Kasumi stood up and gave him a small head bow in response to his kindness. He bowed lower and smiled at her, closed lipped. “I see you are doing better, Neko-sama,” he said. “This is very good.”
“I want to thank you, Tenko-san, but I am at a loss as to how to do it.” Kasumi tied her obi and swords around her waist. “I do not know why you showed me such kindness.”
Tenko shrugged. “Now you must finish your journey and find both Takeshi. Takeshi daimyo has returned to his home if you wish to meet with him.”
Kasumi chewed her lip. “What could I say that could help him? He knows the situation. I had Jiro fill him in on the kidnapping. Without either his wife or son, I won’t have any way to ask for his help.”
Tenko cocked his head. “You wish the daimyo’s help? But why? You are from a rival daimyo.”
“It’s complicated.” Kasumi admonished herself for revealing this much. Tenko could be a spy or say something to the wrong person. Kitsune were known troublemakers. “Let’s just say I can’t do anything without finding either of them.”
“Very well, Neko-sama,” Tenko said softly. “I will help you find them. Wait for me here. I will look for someone who can help us.”
With that, Tenko turned into a fox and slipped out the front door, leaving Kasumi bemused.
#
Akira lay stunned in a pit, mud mixed with the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth. What had he done this time? He closed his eyes against the cold dirt and felt queasy. His hawk-like, raptor wings were broken again, and the flight feathers were askew and torn. A bo, covered with slime and muck, rested beside him.
The wind picked up, and freezing raindrops splattered along his bare back. The rivulets of water mixed with his own blood and ran down his face, arms, and legs. He shivered; the tattered silk tunic and trousers were no protection from the cold.
How long he lay there, freezing and soaked, he didn’t know. He faded in and out of consciousness several times until at last he felt a hard nudge against his side. At first, he thought he was dreaming again. He was back at his father’s estate, training with the bo against Rokuro, who admonished him once again for his laxness. He could see Rokuro’s face, even though his eyes were closed, and smell the cherry blossoms and chrysanthemums on the light sea breeze. His sensei prodded him with the bo.
Get up, boy.
The nudge was harder, more insistent. Akira groaned softly but did not move. Surely Rokuro knew he was hurt? The old sensei would make him practice with bruises and sore muscles, but he never forced Akira to fight with broken bones or a serious gash without being attended to first.
Akira’s muscles were numb, and he knew that moving them would be hot agony. He was sure his ribs were broken at least as badly as his shattered wings.
Get up, Stormhammer.
The name brought him around. As Akira opened his eyes, Rokuro faded, only to be replaced by the hawk-like creature before him. The Tengu stood there, his eyes bright yellow, and his bo ready as he clacked his beak in disapproval. Akira moved his fingers, and they numbly came to life; frozen pinpricks of agony danced along his skin. Through the dirt and the blood, Akira spit the name out.
“Windcatcher!”
Akira grasped the bo beside him and hauled himself to his feet, stumbling once but catching balance against the staff before he collapsed again. Pulling himself up, he could see only his hated enemy. Akira swung the bo at the Tengu with such force, it would’ve thrown a man backward. Windcatcher parried the blow with ease and swung his own bo effortlessly, catching Akira in the ribs and throwing him to the ground.
Akira coughed and bright red blood mixed with spittle hit the dark mud. Before the Tengu could speak, Akira straightened up and swung the bo at Windcatcher again. Windcatcher parried it, catching the tip of the bo and driving both into the ground.
The council has decided. You will not remain with us any longer.
It took a moment before the words made sense to Akira’s addled brain. He hesitated, shivering violently in the rain as his realization of the Tengu’s words sank in. “You are here to kill me?”
No.
Akira swallowed hard, tasting the grime and blood in his mouth. He stood up in ready position and did not lower his weapon. “Then, what?”
The council has decided you are not Tengu, but nor are you human. You have the blood of the kami in you, and yet you follow bushido, the way of the warrior. You did not choose what you are, and so while many believe you should die, many more think you deserve a chance. So the Tengu are prepared to offer you life.
“Life? You’re not going to kill me?”
Not yet.
Akira stared into the implacable golden eyes. “What then?”
You must choose your path now: human or Tengu.
Akira laughed but it held a bitter edge. “That’s what I wanted all along.”
Is it, Stormhammer? Think about this, my brother. For if you choose to be human, you will forfeit your right to use Tengu magic. You can never transform into a Tengu, call up the storms and the weather, or disappear into nothingness. Yes, you will always be faster and stronger than most humans; your senses will always be sharper. But you cannot call upon the Tengu magic to win a victory in battle or even save your life. To do so will mean that you must return to us, or it will mean your certain death. Do you understand?
Akira lowered his bo. To return to the world of men, to be human once more—was this worth the price Windcatcher asked? Akira sank down, rocking back on his heels. Would he be able to do without the magic now that he had learned so much?
“What about Ikumi?”
Windcatcher’s eyes became pinpoint dots. Stormdancer made her decision when she chose to lie with a human. Her punishment is just.
Akira chewed his lower lip. “You said that if I became Tengu, you’d free Ikumi.”
I said the council would consider it. They have…. and rejected it.
Akira’s grip tightened on the bo. He wanted to charge and swing the staff into his half brother, but even as he desired it, his hand loosened on the smooth wood. He could not defeat Windcatcher, even if he summoned all his powers. Even if he did, what then? He would have the other kami to fight. “You’re liars; you promised.”
We promised nothing. Stormdancer made her choice long ago. Perhaps, in time, the council will see fit to restore her to her former shape. But at this time, she must learn the consequences of her actions. Now make your choice.
“And if I make my choice, how do I know you won’t renege?”
Don’t give us cause to.
Despite the pain, Akira Stormhammer raised his head and stood up. “I am Takeshi Akira, son of Takeshi Isao daimyo. I am a samurai’s son.”
That is your choice?
“Yes.”
Windcatcher clacked his beak. Then so be it. The Tengu disappeared.
Akira dropped to his knees, his breath ragged. The pain of his injuries hadn’t left, but he wasn’t willing to call back Windcatcher. He let the bo drop from his fingers, and as the staff clattered to the ground, he, too, collapsed.
Chapter Sixty
Akira awoke on a soft futon nestled beneath the boughs of the big, sweeping conifers. He could see the blue sky above the branches and the forest floor dappled with sunlight. The ground was dry, suggesting he had been asleep a long time. Or perhaps the Tengu had moved him again. He could be anywhere in the archipelago.
He sat up slowly and found that his ribs no longer hurt. Looking down and running his hands along the skin, he found his wounds completely healed. He twisted around to look at his wings; they were no longer there.
Akira took a long breath in and exhaled slowly, enjoying the sensation of true feeling again. He was no longer the half-Tengu monster, but human, as he had been before they had captured him and taken him prisoner. He closed his eyes and lowered his head, murmuring thanks to whatever gods had listened to his prayers.
But was he really human? Deep inside, he felt the spark of the Tengu magic. It tickled at his consciousness like an itch he couldn’t ignore. Even as he looked around the empty forest canopy, he could sense the Tengu presence. It hung around him, cloying, like the sweet scent of spring flowers. They were waiting, watching him, wondering what he would do in his new skin and new form.
Yet it was his old form, the one he had grown to accept for seventeen years before being taken by them. He slid from the futon, finding himself naked and shivering in the light breeze. Undergarments, tunic, trousers, and kamishimo hung from the branches of nearby conifers. He pulled them down and dressed and found tabi socks and sandals lying within reach. Akira heard a soft noise and turned around; his katana and wakizashi now lay on the futon along with an obi. Beside them was another sword: a no-dachi with a shoulder scabbard.
He stared at it a long time. He had done everything they had required to earn this weapon except become Tengu. He forced himself to look at the markings on the sheath. The dark scabbard held intricate carvings of the Tengu. The hilt displayed a stylized form of Tengu feathers and a dragon. The Tengu presence deepened and became overwhelming to his kami senses, forcing him to turn his attention to them. He looked up at the nearly invisible creatures who watched from their perches.
You can yet change your mind… Their mental voices came to him, thin and reedy on the wind.
Akira smiled bitterly. “No.” He took the long sword and strapped it across his back.
The enticing aroma of hot tea and rice cakes wafted to his nostrils, and he turned to see a tray of mochi, tea, and sushi lying on the futon. Despite his anger, his stomach rumbled and he sat down and ate. The food was good, but he hardly noticed the taste. He drank several cups of tea before Windcatcher appeared in front of him.