by Emiko Jean
“We have to remove its collar.” Asami looked up, dark eyes wild and searching. “Do it,” she demanded of Mari. “I won’t allow it to be a slave in death.”
Mari squeezed Asami’s shoulder. Asami shuddered, again giving in to tears. Mari considered her ally’s deep grief, her disgust at seeing Mari with Sei. Asami had a secret. And Mari knew exactly what it was.
“I can’t,” she said quietly. Gods and goddesses, I pray I’m not wrong. “I can’t remove the kirin’s collar, and I don’t think you can either.” Because one touch of the engraved curses would burn them both.
Asami bowed her head in her hands. It was all the answer Mari needed. Asami was yōkai.
* * *
They covered the kirin with ferns and walked back to the entrance of the cave. Suddenly, they were not alone. A figure slid down the hole, landing with an oomph. Mari and Asami drew their weapons. A girl unfurled, hands and battle-axe held aloft. “Just looking for somewhere to wait out the storm.”
Mari relaxed, remembering Master Ushiba’s rules. No deadly combat. She jerked her chin. “All right,” she called to the girl. The girl lowered her hands and drew closer. When she neared, Mari had to crane her neck, the girl was so tall. And she was quite striking—her dark hair fell in waves, her eyes were chestnut brown, and her lips were full and red. She’s pretty enough to be an Animal Wife.
“Name’s Nori,” the girl said, introducing herself with a small bow. Asami ignored her and gathered wood to make a fire.
“I’m—” Mari began.
Nori cut her off. “I know who you are. I saw when you were announced in the Wet Garden. The prince spoke to you during the banquet. It seems you have his favor.” She said this without ire.
“What’s it like out there?” Mari asked.
Asami began to rub a couple of sticks together, her hands quick and sure. Soon enough, a tiny blaze lit the kindling.
Nori flipped her battle-axe and rested her hands on the butt. “I found a giant maple and settled against the trunk to wait out the storm. Before, I passed two girls with legs broken from errant tree branches. The storm picked up, and I knew I wasn’t safe. I figured it was better to keep moving. Then I saw the entrance to the cave.”
Mari inched closer to the fire, splaying her hands above it. A tiny bit of warmth. “Did you see any other girls? What about the one with the bow and arrow?”
“Oh, yeah, I know her. Sachiko. We’re from the same clan. She’s the daughter of the daimyō in our town. She’s been training for this her whole life. She likes to hold things over other people—her father’s position as a lord, his wealth, her belief that she’ll be Empress one day . . . She’s never lacked confidence.”
Asami added more wood to the fire. A flash of purple-black ink inside Asami’s wrist caught Mari’s attention. She blinked, and the ink was gone. A tattoo that moved? What kind of yōkai possessed that? “You seem to dislike her,” Asami said. “It’d be easy enough to do away with her. You can make anything look like an accident.”
Dread coiled in Mari’s stomach at Asami’s cavalier attitude.
Nori shrugged, a contemplative expression on her lovely face. She didn’t seem disturbed by Asami’s suggestion. “I didn’t come here because I like to kill people. I don’t think that’s what any of us want.”
“That’s right,” Asami said, a snide tone to her voice. “We want to marry the prince and be rich.”
Nori smiled ruefully. “Maybe that’s what you want, but not I.”
“What do you want?” asked Mari.
“A farmer’s daughter doesn’t have very many options,” said Nori.
“You’re a pretty girl,” Asami said. She sat, feet propped up near the fire. “I’d bet you could have made an advantageous marriage.”
Nori laced her fingers together and looked down at them. “I’ve often been told that I’m beautiful.” Her lips twitched in disgust. “Most of the time it is because someone wants something from me, usually a man—a smile when I was young, and later, my body. Before I left, a farmer named Jun proposed, and I remember looking into his face and thinking, He doesn’t know me at all. When I rejected him, he grew spiteful, like I should’ve been elated that he wanted me. He said unkind things about me. I can’t even repeat them. Then he set his tongue to wagging, spreading rumors about me. People are always so eager to believe what is untrue. He said we spent the night together. It was enough for my family to stop speaking to me. I was a leper in my own home.” Nori shot Asami a pointed look.
Asami’s shoulders hunched forward. “Sorry,” she muttered.
Nori shrugged. “It’s no matter. My parents don’t know I’m here. I don’t know why I came. I can’t believe I’m still alive.”
Mari drew a deep breath as a memory came, swift and sharp. She’d overheard two Animal Wives gossiping about her. It’s appalling how unattractive she is. And her beast, so deformed. Are we certain she’s one of us? They’d laughed. Mari had run home, crying to her mother. Tami had clucked her tongue, pinching Mari’s chin between her soft but strong hand. Look me in the eye, daughter. Mari complied. Those foolish women forget: our bodies are not ornaments; they are instruments.
Asami grunted, cutting into Mari’s thoughts. “I know why you’re here. It’s why I’m here too. Why we all are, I imagine.” Asami’s eyes glowed, two burning coals. “We’ve been pushed around and forced into quiet rooms our whole lives. Nobody’s ever asked us what we wanted. The prize isn’t the prince. It’s the power.”
Mari’s eyes lifted from the fire to Asami. Her gaze pivoted back and forth between Asami and Nori, sweeping over them like water.
Nori bit her lip. “You’re right. After I rejected Jun, my father sat me down and said, ‘You are pretty and want too much.’ I asked him, ‘What is too much? Love? Equality?’ He said, ‘Yes. You are pretty. That should be enough.’ ”
Mari sneered.
So did Asami. “He shamed you for speaking your desires. Don’t apologize for what you want.” Mari’s ally rose. “We should be solving the riddle. We’ve wasted enough time already.”
Mari blinked at the fire.
“Feed me, and I thrive. Water me, and I die,” Nori said. “I can’t make heads or tails of it.”
Water dropped from the cave ceiling and into the fire, sizzling. Asami had chosen a poor location for the fire. The answer to the riddle came suddenly and with fierce certainty. Mari glanced back and forth between Nori and Asami. “Fire,” she said. “It’s fire. Feed me, and I thrive. Water me, and I die.”
Chapter 23
Mari
Asami began furiously throwing more wood on the fire until it blazed five feet high. “If the other girls solve the riddle, they may see the smoke and think it’s the fire.”
Mari smiled. A clever distraction.
Nori linked her fingers together to help hoist Asami and Mari from the hole. Once free, Mari stuck a hand down and pulled Nori up. Smoke billowed from the cave. The storm had calmed some. But great gusts of wind still accosted tree branches.
Weapons in hand, the three girls climbed to the top of the cave, nearly above the tree line. Mari’s hands were covered in scratches and dried blood. She wondered how her face looked. Probably worse. The girls huddled against one another, afraid of being blown off the edge.
Nori was the first to spot the fire. She pointed. “Looks to be north of here, a few hundred feet off.” Dark tendrils of smoke curled up and licked the sky. All at once, the storm rolled away, the wind stopped, and the rain ceased. The Rooms choose you. A blue sky replaced the gray. Even birds sang in the distance. Still, tension filled the air. The peaceful weather felt even more dangerous. What awaited them in the forest?
They scrambled from the top of the cave and walked through the dense forest in silence, weapons drawn and at the ready. Each rustle of a tree had the three whipping around, weapons raised. Each time, it was just the wind. A squirrel. A crow. But Mari kept her eyes peeled for pit vipers and her ears open for wild boars.<
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The scent of fire filled the air. The girls exchanged glances. Asami jerked her head to the right, and Mari and Nori followed. Their pace slowed as they crept from tree to tree, the scent of the fire intensifying as they closed in. The blue sky began to fade. Twilight descended, much faster than it would in the outside world. Asami nodded, then mouthed, “I’ll go first.” Then she disappeared. Mari gazed up at the tree branches. A squirrel stood frozen, ears flattened. It sensed a predator. Something big.
A low whistle, followed by Asami’s voice. “It’s safe.”
Nori and Mari started toward her. The forest gave way to a small clearing where, inside a metal pen, a large fire burned. Asami opened her hands. “Where are the scrolls?” she asked.
Mari swallowed. “Someone must have thought of the same trick you did.”
Asami kicked at rocks and uttered curses.
Mari examined the scene before her. “Look,” she said, gesturing to the ground. Five metal collars lay discarded. Mari circled the pen; behind the blazing fire was a body. A mangled priest. She arrived back at Nori’s side, gaze still set on the pen. “Something was caged here. There’s a dead priest just over there. And—”
“Uh . . .” Nori elbowed Mari.
Mari snapped to attention. Five oni emerged from the maple forest, yellow eyes gleaming in the near darkness. Eight feet tall, red-skinned, tangled hair, tusks like fangs, foaming mouths, horns.
Mari breathed in and out, shifting her naginata in front of her, trying to calm her shaking hands. The skin on her palms grew slick when she saw the wooden clubs the oni carried. The weapons were unnecessary, merely decoration. An oni’s true strength was in its arms, in its massive body. They could crush a skull as easily as a human could squish a grape. Their sharp talons could peel away skin from bones like the rind from an orange. Most of their strength will be undercut by collars. Mari felt comforted by the thought. She stood a fighting chance. Mari squinted in the darkness, studying the oni, looking for any sign of weakness. Her pulse skipped a beat; cold fingers of dread traced her spine.
“No collars,” Mari whispered.
“Look what they are wearing.” Asami inched closer to Mari.
Iron chains dangled from their throats with glass pendants attached, each containing a red scroll. Mari’s hand tightened around her naginata, a chokehold of steely resolve.
Oni didn’t speak, but they could communicate. After a series of growls followed by clicking, one stepped forward. Their leader? Mari wished she had paid more attention to oni lore when her mother spoke of it. She didn’t know their customs, their weaknesses.
“What should we do?” Nori asked, a tremor in her voice.
“We can’t take them on uncollared. That would be suicide,” Mari said.
“What about the scrolls?” Nori asked.
Mari’s hands grew clammy around her naginata. “This isn’t right. They should be collared. We can’t defeat them at full strength. We need to run.”
Asami shook her head. “The scrolls—”
“We’re dead if we try to wrangle those from their necks,” Mari said. One of the oni had lifted its massive foot and stomped, shaking the ground. Blood dripped from its club. It licked it off, mouth curving into a wicked smile.
“We’re running,” Mari said. Their only hope lay in reaching the Fall Room doors. If samurai were posted outside it, maybe they would help. “On three, each of us runs as fast as she can to the front doors, no looking back, no stopping, even if one of us—” She couldn’t finish the thought.
“No looking back, no stopping,” Nori agreed.
“On three,” Asami said, tears choking her voice. “One, two, thr—”
The oni lifted its massive club and brought it down. Dodging just in time, the girls broke into a frenzied run. No looking back. No stopping. Wind whipped Mari’s cheeks; her pulse hammered. Together, they leaped into the maple forest.
Nori led, and Mari hoped she knew where she was going. The oni were right behind them, their footsteps heavy, striking the ground in tiny earthquakes. Rotten leaves squished under Mari’s feet, propelling her forward. A ripping sound. Mari risked a backward glance. One of the oni had pulled up a tree by its roots.
Mari ducked and rolled, the trunk missing her by a hairsbreadth. Asami easily sidestepped, but Nori wasn’t quick enough. She collapsed underneath the massive tree.
Gaining her feet and breath, Mari crouched by the battle-axe girl’s side.
Asami drew close. “No stopping,” she reminded Mari and continued jogging, disappearing into the maple trees.
The oni closed in, only a few feet away.
“Go,” Nori said as she struggled under the weight of the tree. “If you stay, we’re both dead. I’d leave you behind.”
If you stay, we’re both dead. The better gamble was to keep going, try to lure the oni away from Nori.
“Wait,” Nori gasped. “My axe.” The weapon had fallen inches from her fingertips.
Mari kicked the axe to Nori. “We’ll come back,” she promised.
Nori smiled, her fingers wrapping around the wooden axe handle. “Sure you will.”
Mari stepped away from Nori and watched as the oni approached her, clubs swaying back and forth, like pendulums on a clock. Her new friend’s time was quickly dwindling.
“Hey!” Mari shouted. She plucked rocks from the ground and threw them. Her aim landed true. Each rock hit an oni square in the head. The oni grunted. Their eyes set in vicious slits and trained on Mari.
“That’s it,” Mari taunted, backing up a step. “Follow me, you ugly creatures.”
The oni gave chase, and Mari bolted, running zigzag. In the mountains, this worked on wolves, kept the canines guessing. She heard the oni clicking at one another, strategizing, trying to flush her out. They’re smarter than wolves. Up ahead, lights shimmered through a break in the trees. Lanterns. The front of the Fall Room. Salvation.
Mari’s calves screamed. She gasped, struggling for each breath, but she felt a renewed energy. At last, she reached the edge of the forest. Her confidence withered and died in her chest. The Fall Room doors were barred shut. Still, she raced to them and pummeled her fists against the wood. “Help!” she screamed. Nothing.
Salvation found. Salvation lost.
Slowly, Mari swiveled on her feet. The oni neared. Where is Asami? As they drew closer, Mari got a whiff of the demons. They smelled putrid, a mixture of decay and puss. Mari blanched. She counted their shadowed bodies along the tree line. Three oni against one girl. So two had broken from the pack. She wondered if they’d gone back for Nori or if they’d found Asami.
In unison, the oni smiled, crazy, warped grins with white fangs and black gums. This was just a game to them, Mari realized. She backed up. The oni advanced.
An arrow flew through the air, piercing one of the oni in the chest. The bow-and-arrow girl, Sachiko, stepped from the forest. She notched another arrow and released it. It flew and joined the first in the oni’s chest. The oni grimaced and broke the arrows off, tossing them to the ground. He swiveled and raced toward Sachiko. Quick as lightning, she notched two more arrows and sent them sailing into the oni’s chest. Then she disappeared into the forest, oni hot on her heels.
One down, two to go.
A sickle and chain flew through the air. The chain wrapped around an oni’s neck. Mari’s ally jumped on the oni’s back, strangling it. “Gods and goddesses!” Asami yelled to Mari. “Don’t just stand there. Do something!” Asami ripped the scroll from the oni’s neck while tightening the chain around its throat. The oni thrashed. It was as if Asami were riding a wild bull. They tumbled to the ground.
Suddenly, a shadow cast over Mari. She scrambled back, her spine meeting the rough bark of a tree. The last oni shifted closer, and his hot breath fanned her cheeks. She stared at the demon, still frozen in fear. In the twilight, she saw that his eyes were rimmed in kohl and the lightest shade of blue, startling in their beauty. So this is what my death looks like.
/> Mari raised her naginata, but the oni tore it from her grip, tossing it out of reach. The oni’s hand clamped around her throat, cutting off her cry. Mari looked past the oni to Asami fighting her demon. “Hel—!” Mari’s cry was cut off. The oni’s hand tightened around her neck. Mari grasped and scraped at the oni’s wrist, but to no avail. The demon would not let go. Her breath stilled.
She had no choice but to risk exposure. Kill or be killed. The bones in her hand broke and reformed; her skin shifted to black scales; her fingernails lengthened to claws. Her partial beast emerged.
The oni’s mouth opened, so wide it could bite through her skull. Saliva gathered in the corners of the demon’s lips and dripped onto Mari’s cheek. She went limp. In the wild, some animals played dead. The oni paused, sniffing her. Then she swung at him, sinking her claws into his ugly face. The oni howled. Its hand squeezed her neck. Mari saw stars. She screamed, a war cry. No. It doesn’t end here. It doesn’t end today.
She swung again and again, carving deep grooves into the oni’s face. The oni swayed, its hand still around her neck, guiding her like a puppet. The hand eased, and Mari found her first full breath, followed by a sob. The oni collapsed, convulsed, and stilled. She’d killed it. Quickly, Mari hid her claws behind her back and retracted them. No one had seen. The oni’s body blocked the others’ view of her.
Mari crawled over its body and yanked the scroll from its neck, stuffing it into the folds of her uwagi. The Fall Room grew eerily quiet. The battle had ended. In the moonlight, Mari surveyed the carnage. Two oni littered the ground. In the middle of it all, standing tall and breathing heavy, were Sachiko and Asami.
“The rest of the oni?” Mari choked out.
Asami’s chest rose and fell deeply. “I killed two in the forest, plus this one.” She toed the dead oni in front of her.
Sachiko chimed in. “I got one with my arrows.” Sachiko coughed, spitting out blood, and maybe a tooth. In her hand she held a scroll.
Mari gazed down at the oni she’d killed. All five are dead. The threat had passed. For a while, Asami, Sachiko, and Mari stared at one another, not sure what to do, whether to celebrate or weep. The stillness was profound.