by Zoe Marriott
“Hunting us? You mean the Shikome?”
He shook his head. “Those foul things are mere puppets, the least of your worries. You are caught between two sides in a great battle which goes back thousands of years, long before either of you, or your family, were involved. It is a war between Yomi and its mistress, she who was once called Izanami-no-Kami, and her once-husband, the father of the gods, Izanagi-no-Kami.”
I felt Shinobu tense by my side, his grip nearly crushing my hand.
Little birdie.
Shadows and blood…
The old man went on, “You, Mio, have been visited by both these beings. The weak echo of Izanami has sought to influence you in your nightmares, just as the one who calls himself the Harbinger – whose true name is Izanagi – has terrorized you in the mortal realm since you took up the sword.”
“I don’t – this can’t be – the Harbinger is a god? I can’t – I don’t understand how…” My words stuttered to a halt and I clutched at my head with my free hand.
The old man sighed. “Let me make it as simple as I can. Five hundred years ago Izanami learned of an uncanny weapon of power – a blade which had been discovered in the belly of a serpent. She believed it might be powerful enough to break the curse that held her trapped in Yomi. But the sword belonged to Izanagi. And so she sent out all her creatures to track him, attack him, hound him, and steal it from him by any means necessary. Irked by their constant onslaught, Izanagi hid the sword with your family under a dense shroud of seals that gave it the appearance of a normal katana, a katana that had belonged to the Yamatos. The strongest concealment laid on the sword’s power was the trapped spirit of a human boy – an adopted son of the Yamato family – which obscured the light and scent of its power from all but the sharpest of supernatural senses.
“For a time this deception worked. The Yamatos hid and protected the blade, because Izanagi had bound them to it with their own love for their fallen son, and this love passed down in their blood long after the memory of Shinobu’s death had faded. But your actions, Mio, have begun to unravel Izanagi’s plan and his protections on the blade. First, Shinobu’s spirit was freed from the katana, making the scent of its energy easily detectable to supernatural creatures. Then you figured out and used the first of the sword’s names, breaking another seal on its power. Izanagi seeks to bind Shinobu’s soul to the katana once more, and to break your spirit so that you will think only of running and hiding from his former wife’s monsters, instead of fighting them with the sword. Meanwhile, Izanami has sensed the blade’s power after centuries of waiting, and she is desperate to win it this time, before it slips away again.”
My face felt as if it had frozen. I knew I was gaping at Mr Leech with horror, but I couldn’t make myself stop. Ojiichan, what have you got me into?
“There’s no way,” I whispered finally. “Humans can’t win against gods. They’ll rip us to shreds.”
“Oh, rubbish!” Mr Leech said fiercely. He stumped his way through the crowded furniture and sat in the wing chair next to us. “Rid yourself of fairy tale notions of what these creatures are. They are powerful, yes, but they are neither omnipresent nor omnipotent. Most have no particular virtue and no particular intelligence. Many are damned useless fools!”
While I blinked at this, Shinobu protested, “But the legends – all the stories say—”
The old man jabbed his stick down, hitting the carpet with a dull thud. “Myths and legends! Who believes in those? The beings we’re speaking of are Kami, you understand? Nature spirits formed in the wild storm of energy that was the beginning of this world, when all the powers of the universe collided. They are natural forces – natural disasters, like hurricanes, volcanoes, tsunamis. Izanami is a broken, insane shadow of what she once was, and Izanagi a coward who has been running from the consequences of his own selfish actions for millennia.”
He paused, gasping for breath after his outburst, and I squeezed my eyes shut as I struggled to sort through the barrage of information. There were hundreds of questions I wanted to ask. Where had the sword come from in the first place? What were its true powers? Was it possible to break the frightening bond I felt to it?
But he’d said we didn’t have much time – and there were two questions that I had to know the answers to, no matter what. “Can you tell me how we can banish the Shikome and destroy their taint? And what about saving someone who is transforming after a Nekomata bite?”
Mr Leech clasped his hands together on the top of his cane. “You carry the cure on your back.”
My free hand darted back to touch the hilt of the katana. “So the sword really can do more than just destroy things?”
“The sword saved your life that night in the road,” Shinobu reminded me. “It must have some healing powers.”
“The sword certainly has power,” Mr Leech said dryly. “Incredible raw power. Whether it uses it for healing or not, that is another matter.”
“I have the sword’s true name,” I said hesitantly. “It answers me when I call it.”
“You have one of the sword’s true names – and if I am not mistaken, you have already used it. Tell me, did the sword’s energy manifest itself obediently and safely when you did that?”
I shook my head wordlessly.
Mr Leech gave me a commiserating grimace. “You will not be able to summon the sword’s full power using its first name again. That seal is already broken. And while the sword does seem to have allied itself with you for the moment, it is foolish to believe that you command it. It has its own will. Even once you break the next seal on its power with its second name, it has to be controlled, or the sword will simply use its new strength to invade your mind and enslave you. Your friends, those you wish to save, would be none the better off. And you would be a witless puppet, wielded by the blade.”
Shit. I knew it. Oh God, I knew it… That was what it meant by “freedom” all along…
The buzz of the sword’s energy down my back made my skin crawl. I rubbed at the goose pimples that jumped up on the back of my neck.
“Only if the sword’s energy is contained and channelled by someone with an unbreakable will, by someone with the closest possible relationship to the blade, can the Shikome be banished and their taint erased. You, sword-bearer, do not have the ability to do that. Not yet, anyway. The sword has too great a hold on you and your emotions. As far as I am aware only one person in the world has ever done so.”
The old man gazed at us, expression pitying.
And now the ice that had been nipping at me ever since Mr Leech used the word “sacrifice” clamped its jaws down over my heart. I heard the echo of Shinobu’s voice in my head. Not warm, and real and present, like now, but distant and ghostly, the way it had been that night. The night I nearly died.
The night Shinobu saved me.
“Take my hand…” he had said. “It will be all right. Take my hand.”
“I’m sorry,” Mr Leech said quietly.
“Why?” Shinobu’s gaze flicked between me and Mr Leech. “Do you mean—?”
His voice cut off as realization made his eyes go wide. His fingers, still twined with mine, tightened until his grip almost cut off the blood. I squeezed back just as hard.
“It was the katana’s energy which knit your skin and bones back together, Mio. But it was Shinobu’s will that channelled that energy into healing instead of destruction. His soul was wrapped so tightly around the blade that the katana’s energy had to pass through him, and in his desperation to save you, he forced it to do as he wished. Even here, halfway across London, I felt it happen.”
“But it was a fluke,” I said desperately. “A – a special case.”
Shinobu murmured, “Mio…”
I used Shinobu’s grip on my hand to pull him towards me, and rested my forehead against his. His hair fell around my face in glinting black strands. I felt his eyelashes brush my cheek.
“The sword is yours. You have the right to unseal its power wi
th its true name,” Mr Leech said inexorably.
I wanted to turn around and scream at him to shut up.
“The sword has the power to banish the Shikome, and erase their taint. But only Shinobu – whose very spirit is bound to the blade, even now – has the ability to make it happen. If—”
Please. Don’t say it.
Don’t say it.
Don’t.
“—he is bound to the katana again. If he gives up his physical form and bonds with the blade, as he did before. That is the only way.”
I didn’t look away from Shinobu’s set, grave face. “That’s impossible.”
“Is it?” Shinobu asked softly.
“We have no idea how you got out. We have no idea how to put you back again.”
I can’t. I won’t let you go again.
Shinobu cupped my cheek with his hand, then turned to look at Mr Leech. Mr Leech opened his mouth.
Please. No. Anything, anything, but not that.
My hearing disappeared into a high, thin whine as the carpet leapt up and smacked me in the face. Shinobu threw himself across me. His mouth was moving – he was shouting – but I couldn’t make out a single word. Dust and chunks of plaster rained down over us as another impact made the ceiling dance.
The tip of Mr Leech’s cane thumped down an inch away from my nose. I peered up to see him standing steady on the rolling floor, gesturing urgently with one hand. I didn’t need my hearing to make sense of what he was trying to say. The signs for Get up! and Come on! are pretty universal.
I staggered to my feet, not sure whether I was helping or hindering Shinobu. Another impact shuddered through the flat and nearly sent me to the carpet again. Mr Leech seized my arm in a steely grip and towed us out of the crowded wreckage of the living room into…
“Seriously?” I muttered. I still couldn’t actually hear myself, but I could imagine the tinny sound of my voice echoing in the dim orange-and-olive tiled bathroom. There was just enough room for me and Shinobu in the space between the toilet and the bath. “Why here?”
The old man slammed the door shut behind us, locked it, then he squeezed past and jammed himself into the gap next to the sink. He pulled the cord on an orange fabric blind, sending the material flying up to reveal a wide, frosted-glass window above the sink. Another impact rocked the floor beneath us. Shinobu grabbed the cistern of the toilet for balance. I clutched at the wall. A massive crack zigzagged up the wall above the bath, shattering the grout and sending tiles smashing down into the olive tub. The ringing in my ears was beginning to fade in and out. In among the crunching of bricks and the sounds of smashing downstairs, I could make out a voice booming up through the floor.
“DESTROY! Rip free of… Yomi will swallow … this world … dead and barren… UNGRATEFUL WHELP!”
I read Shinobu’s lips as he mouthed: The Harbinger.
“Izanagi!” Mr Leech corrected. I could tell he was shouting to be heard, but the word reached me as a squeaky whisper. The old man unlatched the window and flung the sash up, before shouting again. “… only way – rooftops! – be safe!”
“You want us to climb out there?” I asked incredulously.
The old man gave me a look that clearly said, Well, do you have a better idea?
Great.
Mr Leech gestured for Shinobu to go first. Shinobu climbed up onto the olive pedestal sink, putting his hands on the narrow plank of the wooden windowsill for balance. He turned diagonally to wedge his broad shoulders through the casement, which suddenly looked a lot smaller. For a blink, I was sure he was going to get stuck. A shattering explosion from below sent me stumbling forward. Another crack arrowed through the wall above the window frame.
Shinobu jerked sideways. Suddenly his shoulders were through. I saw him reach up above his head, and then he was outside and somehow kneeling on the other side of the window. He held out his hand for me.
I huffed out a breath between my lips and waved his hand away. There was barely enough room as it was, and I didn’t know what he was kneeling on out there. I scrambled up onto the sink after him, sending a desiccated bar of soap and a plug flying, and crawled over the windowsill.
We were at the back of the row of shops and flats. Below me was a row of tiny concrete courtyards, vivid green with lichens and mould. Ahead was a jumble of rooftops and, in the corner of my vision, the road. The only windows facing us now were curtained. That was good. The supernatural attack on the building would probably escape the notice of the non-magical citizens of London. But Shinobu and me clambering out of a third-storey window in the middle of the day? That looked enough like an ordinary burglary for someone to see us – or at least me – and decide to call the police.
Shinobu was kneeling on a narrow, white, stonework ledge that ran the length of the red-brick building under the line of windows. He had found a handhold above the window on a section of lead pipe. As he shuffled sideways to make room for me, I reached out and grabbed it too, then leaned down to offer my hand to Mr Leech in the same way Shinobu had done for me. He was going to need help getting out. Shinobu grabbed the back of my fleece to balance me as I poked my head through the window. “Come on!”
Mr Leech took my hand in that surprisingly strong grip and leaned over the sink to put his mouth close to my ear. “Thank you – offer. No need – can’t – fear—”
Huh? “I can’t hear you!”
The old man shook his head at me. “Go – too old – running about. I’m – danger.”
“Mr Leech, we can’t leave you here! Please. I promise we’ll protect you.”
He smiled the stunning, angelic smile that made him look so ancient and so innocent at once. “I don’t – need – protection,” he said slowly and carefully. His hand tightened around mine in two urgent squeezes. “Mio – katana’s second name – listen…”
I don’t want to know!
The green blade flashes down in the red light—
The walls of the building vibrated. An almighty crash echoed through the floor. Mr Leech released my hand and I jerked back just in time as the sash window fell down between us, thudding home hard enough to crack the glass. The orange blind dropped, hiding the bathroom and the old man from view. I waited a second for the blind to lift again. It didn’t.
Shinobu yanked lightly on the back of my top and gave me a questioning look.
I shook my head. “He’s not coming!” I hesitated for a moment. “I think we need to go.”
We picked our way carefully along the ledge. Twice we had to stop and cling to the wall, the pipes and each other, as the building shook again. Finally we reached the corner, and were able to shin a few feet up the drainpipe to the peeling asphalt roof above, where it felt marginally safer. I could still hear distant howls from the Harbinger – Izanagi – and feel the roof heaving underfoot. The old man must have some really bloody powerful magical protections down there or Izanagi would have demolished this whole place by now.
We set off on a jumping, sliding, skidding journey over the rooftops, moving as fast as we could. I craned over the edges of the buildings, trying to make sure that we were heading in the right direction – towards the only possible sanctuary, my house – expecting all the while to see the Harbinger suddenly appear in hot pursuit. Shinobu was scrutinizing the sky, checking for signs of Izanami’s Handmaidens.
With every step, I was hyper-aware that we were fleeing from our one source of information about this whole mess. We had brought danger to his door, and then left him behind, and although part of that was his own fault, I honestly felt sure that he had meant us no harm. There was so much more that we needed, needed to know, and so little time to find out. My stomach churned with frustration and worry.
After about half an hour of clambering over the rooftops, we hit a flat concrete roof liberally scattered with metal air-conditioning vents. I signalled to Shinobu that I had to stop, and bent over, leaning my hands on my knees and taking deep breaths.
“I cannot understand why h
e would not come with us,” Shinobu mused out loud. I caught what he was saying this time, although my ears were still ringing a little.
“All I could make out was that he didn’t want our protection. I think he said he didn’t need it. He must have some pretty strong mojo of his own. It’s kind of weird how he chooses to look like that, live like that. The king said he never even sets foot outside the shop.”
“Did he say anything else before we left? You had your head in the window for a while.”
“Mio, this is the katana’s second name. Listen…”
Don’t tell him.
Just don’t say anything.
Don’t say it.
For God’s sake!
I closed my eyes.
“He told me the sword’s second true name.”
I felt Shinobu’s gaze snap to my face. We stood there in silence as the wind whistled around us.
I couldn’t figure out what I needed or wanted to say. Abruptly I was exhausted, so overwhelmingly tired that I could barely think straight. Slowly I slid down to sit on the concrete, with my back to one of the metal vents. After drawing my knees up, I wrapped my arms around them and hid my face. There was a tentative footstep and a rustle of clothing, then Shinobu’s shoulder leaned against mine as he sat beside me.
Mr Leech could tell us that the gods – Kami – were damn useless fools all he liked, but they were still terrifying, powerful, impossible to predict, and after me and the katana.
What would Izanami do if one of her monsters finally managed to get hold of the sword? It didn’t take much imagination to figure out. She’d break the remaining bindings on it and break out of her Underworld prison, bringing all her demons with her. The mortal realm would become a nightmare battle zone as she went after Izanagi and revenge.
If Izanagi got his hands on it? He’d bind Shinobu back into the sword again. It was obvious now that was what he’d been trying to do the first time he came after me, when he’d skewered Shinobu to the floor with those bolts of white energy. Then he’d … “break my spirit”, Mr Leech had said. I shuddered at the thought of what that might mean. But in the end I’d still be the sword’s protector, still be compelled to guard it, still never be safe. And Izanami would continue sending her monsters into the world to hunt the sword, threatening innocent people wherever they went. Innocent people like my family. Like the ones I loved.