"Sure," Toshi said. "I believe you completely. There's no way you could just be an imp or a kappa with delusions of grandeur. Let me fall down and start praying."
"Ah, Toshi. I can see I'm going to have to give you a demonstration."
"I think you should give me a fond farewell and leave before I tie you up and gag you."
Mochi grinned again, dazzling them with his shining silver teeth.
One demonstration, coming right up.
Toshi became blinded, staring at an endless field of white. The glare started to fade, from the edges of his vision inward. He blinked repeatedly as the scene clarified before him.
He'd thought the view from the moth's back was spectacular, but he was so high up now that he could see the edge of the world itself curving along the horizon. Continental landmasses shifted below him as the globe turned, but even here he could hear hundreds of tiny voices calling out, begging to be noticed and blessed.
Then Toshi was a ray of light, hurtling down through the clouds and illuminating a patch of sea. The white foam reflected his silver glow, and around him Toshi saw an ocean of light dancing on the surface of the water.
A strange, alien joy overcame him and he tried to shout. Overhead, the crescent moon sent down more light to play among the waves, and Toshi felt an inexplicable yearning to rise and rejoin the glow that had spawned him.
The world went white again. When his eyes cleared, Toshi's legs went rubbery and he collapsed to the cave floor.
He rolled over on to his back and struggled to a sitting position. Michiko was also down on the ground, lying on her side with her eyes blank and her mouth moving.
"The sea," she muttered. "The light."
Toshi struggled to clear his head. He climbed to his feet and drew his jitte, holding it in front of him.
Mochi still stood by the mouth of the cave, his arms spread and his teeth shining.
I am an aspect of the moon. Mochi's smile did not change; his lips did not move. There is one moon spirit, but there are many phases. We are distinct, we are one. I am one of many, yet I am unique in all the spirit realm. We are the feasting rabbit, we are the eye of the spirit world-wide open, fully closed, and all points in between. I am Mochi, the eye squinted almost shut in mirth, the sharp silver crescent of a joyous smile.
The voice sounded directly in Toshi's ears. From the way Michiko was wincing, Toshi guessed she was hearing it, too.
Our minds are different from yours. What one kami does cannot long be kept from the others. Those of us who can act often choose not to. But for you, Michiko, and you, Toshi, I shall act.
"All right," Toshi grunted. "You win. Just go back to talking, because this is splitting the princess's head wide open. I'm not enjoying it, either."
"Suits me." Mochi hopped up on a stone so that he was at eye level with Toshi. Beside them, Michiko stood and leaned against the cave wall.
"Mochi." Michiko stepped forward. "If I believe you are what you say, will you take me from here and help me find Lady Pearl-Ear?" She offered him her bound wrists. "I am being held here against my will."
"Touch her," Toshi called, "and we'll have a problem."
"I'm not going to free you yet, Princess. For now, I think this is the safest place you can be. While you're with me, you're under my protection."
Mochi clasped his hands behind his back and paced around the top of the stone. "Now then. Lately, you've been driven back and forth across the country by kami and their agents."
"Who has?" Toshi said. "Me, or her?"
"Both of you."
Toshi shook his head. "My trouble started with moonfolk. The kami didn't start popping up until after that." He narrowed his eyes and took a step back. "You wouldn't know anything about the moonfolk who are after me, would you, Mr. Smiling Moon Spirit?"
Mochi grinned guiltily. "I do, a little. But trust me, those snobs wouldn't deign to scheme with me. They pray to the larger spirit, the moon in all its guises."
"And I've been seeing a lot of crescent moons lately. In the sky, on the scales of angry kami, around the necks of soratami. You'd better come clean, little spirit, because you're not very convincing."
"The moonfolk are actively attempting to colonize the nezumi under their control. You interrupted one of their initial outings. Apart from trying to warn you after they surprised you at home, I've had nothing to do with your current list of troubles." "Then what do we have to talk about? My problem is with soratami."
"I'm getting to it. You have to start at the beginning. Stop interrupting." The little kami resumed pacing. "Where was I?"
"You were talking about the kami attacks." Michiko stepped away from the wall.
"Ah, yes. Something you have become keenly interested in lately."
"I am seeking the cause of the Kami War, Mochi. If you answer no other questions for me today, answer that one. The killing and strife must stop."
Princess Michiko continued to impress and amuse Toshi with her innocence and drive. You had to be rich and pure of heart to be so concerned about others. He surreptitiously checked her wrists. Another few days and she'd work free of those ropes.
"Patience, Princess. Right. Now, the soratami have been working to expand their influence over the rest of Kamigawa. They've also become increasingly active in your father's kingdom. Twenty years ago, your father did something terrible. Me and the soratami… my soratami, who have nothing to do with Toshi… have been working to undo it ever since."
"On the night I was born," Michiko said haltingly, "they say my father performed a ritual."
"Indeed. And the ritual performed in conjunction with your birth made a great crime possible."
"Was he going to sacrifice her?" Toshi heard his question bounce around the inside of the cave as Michiko and Mochi stared at him.
"What? That would be terrible, wouldn't it? That's all I'm saying."
"The crime was my birth," Michiko said bitterly. "I was an event to him, not a child. I might as well have been a solstice or an eclipse."
"No, Princess." Mochi's face was earnest. "Never. You are as important to Konda as anything in this world." "You are kind, but that is simply untrue. He keeps the most important thing behind locked doors and never strays from it."
"There is so much you do not understand, Michiko. Here. Let me show you."
"How can you-"
But Michiko never finished her question. Instead, Mochi opened his mouth wide and the interior of the cave once more disappeared in a blinding flash of moonlight.
*****
The light receded and Michiko found herself floating below a mass of yellow clouds. Below her, the Daimyo's tower sulked like a tombstone. She was not light, as she had been in Mochi's previous vision, but possessed her own shape. She could feel her arms and legs, the weight of her robe against her skin, but she could not see herself, not even her eyelids.
A break in the clouds formed, and Michiko heard
Mochi's voice whispering in her mind.
Behold the night of your birth. I regret that I cannot show you your mother one last time. Our opportunity is limited and there is something you must see.
Michiko agreed, and though she did not speak or think the assent, her phantom form was drawn to the top of the tower all the same.
She passed through the heavy white stone and a dozen or more retainers without resistance. The men and women of the tower did not register her presence in the slightest. Ghost-like, she drifted down the halls, up the stairs and into the locked chamber where twenty years hence, Daimyo Konda would spend all his time.
Her father was there, looking as he always had. His face was slick with sweat and he was grinning victoriously. A bearded man in Minamo robes was kneeling beside a brazier of blue fire. Takeno kneeled beside the brazier, chanting and hurling gold dust into the fire. A soratami stood opposite the wizard, striding back and forth as he chanted. His ears were loose and trailed behind him, the strange markings on his flesh migrating from his skull to the tips of hi
s lobes.
Why is there a moonfolk here? Michiko wondered.
As I said, Mochi's voice answered. We've been trying to undo this since it was done. Your father would not be dissuaded, so we decided to participate in order to keep the situation manageable, and in case something went wrong.
"Come," Konda intoned. "Come to me now, my child."
The air above the brazier split and a thin seam of energy seeped through. The dazzling blue-white line intensified. The ends of the line withdrew into the center and formed a blazing spot of blinding energy.
"Come!"
The light crackled, contracted, and then burst, flooding the room with a sheet of luminous white. Michiko blinked reflexively, but she maintained a clear and interrupted view.
Her father and his cohorts were frozen, statues on a field of white. The center of the white void was open and swirling like a rapidly draining basin. Through the hole, Michiko could see something vast, glimpses of an alien world.
This is a window into the spirit realm, Mochi's voice said. No mortal, not even the ones in this room on this night, has ever seen what you now see.
Michiko floated forward, hypnotized, intoxicated by the swirling vortex. She reached out a phantom hand and broke the plane between the kami's realm and her father's.
Watch closely, Princess. And don't forget to come back.
Spirits swam and soared across the colorful emptiness, not in shapes but in vectors. There was a clear sense of motion, but no sign of bodies in motion. Michiko sensed action, but she could not distinguish any actors. It was like a thousand gusts of wind across a shapeless expanse of clouds and wavering light.
Then, the entire churning mass trembled. She had the oddest sensation of being a fish in a bowl while someone was tapping the glass. The fabric of the world around her seemed to stretch and collide with itself, trembling from to some tremendous external impact.
"Come!" her father's roar rippled across the surface of the spirit world. A million strands of force flowed back toward the rift behind Michiko, gathering from every direction into a funnel shape.
The funnel continued to swirl and collect strands of motion to itself. Michiko was reminded of the dregs in the bottom of a teapot-the bits of leaf and stem were a part of the brew, but if you stirred fast enough, you could easily separate them into a column at the center.
The swirling funnel grew thicker, more dense. It had accreted so much spirit energy that it was becoming physically solid. Michiko saw parts of the spinning mass harden, break off, and be churned back into to vortex. Soon the entire thing would congeal like cooling wax, set forever in the shape of a disk.
"Come!"
The disk turned on its axis. It oriented on the portal and drifted toward it.
Everything but the disk stopped, as if the kami had together abandoned their own pursuits and had paused to watch. There was resistance between the disk and the portal, a current of force that flowed to keep the disk in place. Her father's call was too powerful, however, and the disk surged on like a fish against the current.
A terrifying, outraged growl rumbled across the entire realm. Michiko had never imagined any sound could be so primal, so threatening. Terrified, she tried vainly to turn away, to flee before whatever made that sound appeared before her.
The substance of the spirit realm changed. The disk was now almost at the gleaming portal, but the air, the light, the very space around it had changed. It expanded and contracted like a lung, squeezing the world and Michiko too.
On the horizon, a new sun flared to life. It was joined by a second fiery orb, then a third and fourth. Stars began bursting to life in pairs, and when they had formed a line that reached all the way across the realm, they began to blink.
Eyes, Michiko realized. The paired stars were eyes in some vast and unknowable field of faces.
In the terrible light from those eyes, she saw the edges and outlines of nostrils, lips, and huge, savage teeth. Her heart froze. Whatever her father was doing had roused something unimaginably old and incomprehensibly vast. As multiple pairs of eyes surged forward to the portal, Michiko saw that their fire would fill the entire spirit realm long before the heads came close enough to touch the disk. A single one of those stars was enough to char an entire world, and there were more than a dozen coming for her now.
A pair of hands plunged through the portal and sank into the substance of the whirling disk. Michiko recognized the thin, powerful hands of her father as they dug in and hauled the disk halfway through the portal.
Michiko turned back and saw that all the visible horizon was now filled with star fire. It was drawing closer all the time.
Go, now, little Princess. You've seen what you came to see. To stay longer is to invite real danger.
Michiko's paralysis broke and though she had no sense of control over her motion, she willed herself to the portal as hard and as fast as she could. Behind her, the wave of fire was picking up speed, and she heard a louder version of the outraged growl, now a chorus of six or more snarling together.
She hit the portal just as the last edge of the disk vanished through it. Michiko was blinded once more by the trip from spirit realm to her world, and the star-eyed horror's furious sounds lingered in her ears.
How had her father summoned this much power? Even with the moonfolk and the Minamo master, it seemed impossible that the Daimyo could change the rhythm of the spirit world and distill part of it down to a form he could manipulate.
Then she was back in the chamber, listening to her father exult. He clapped Takeno on the back, he clasped the wizard's hand, he bowed to moonfolk on the other side of the brazier.
The blue flame had gone out. In the air above the smoking metal bowl hung a circular mass of roughly carved stone. The form of a small, scaled creature was etched onto the stone disk's face, curled and stunted in the fetal position.
"Gentlemen," her father said. "We have just changed the future."
"Long live the Daimyo!" Takeno erupted. "Long live Konda!"
The wizard took up the chant, and after a few rounds the moonfolk joined in as well. Konda himself stood below the smoking statue, staring up at it intently through wide eyes. As Michiko watched, her father's pupils grew fuzzy and diffuse. They began to migrate back and forth across his eye sockets like a pair of searchlights searching for a ship in distress.
Michiko felt like she ought to scream. Instead, she said a small prayer to Justice, pleading with Towabara's patron spirit to spare her people from the consequences of Konda's crime.
On the wall of the chamber, the mural depicting Justice began to weep. Unable to close her eyes, unable to shed tears herself, Michiko could only stare as the Daimyo's men celebrated, Konda himself gaped in awe, and a princess's love for her father faltered under the weight of his actions.
*****
Toshi started, almost losing his balance. He steadied himself against the cave wall. Mochi had trapped him in Michiko's point of view, so he felt everything she felt and learned what she learned. Disoriented, he focused on sorting his thoughts out from hers.
Michiko stood, eyes downcast, her arms clenched around herself. Her eyes were dry, but her expression was beyond sadness.
Mochi was next to her. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I am sorry, Princess. But that is the answer you seek. Your father dared to do what could not be done: he invaded the spirit world and captured a kami. And not just an everyday kami, but a major one. No simple well spirit or household benefactor here. He has imprisoned an essential being and is harnessing its power for his own ends."
Michiko dully raised her head. "And this is the secret of the tower." There was no inquiry to the princess's voice, only resignation. "The thing that he values most of all."
"He values you, too Princess, even if it's only because you are tied to that thing. It was created on the same night you were, born into this world only because you were. You are not the cause of the Kami War, Michiko. You are not the crime. Your birth was mere
ly the opportunity."
Toshi's ears perked up. "What do you mean she's 'tied to' it?"
"Through the ritual. Her birth helped create sympathetic magic that brought the kami into this world. She's like the counterweight on a pan scale. The other side is only balanced, only stable, because Michiko exists as its opposite."
"And what happens to the kami statue if something happens to Michiko?"
Mochi shrugged. "I don't rightly know. Opinion is divided on the subject."
"The snakes said their kami want her dead."
Mochi wrinkled his nose. "Yes. That fits with their patron spirit's attitude. It sees the crime as a terrible imbalance in the natural order. To restore that order, it would gladly sacrifice an innocent life."
Toshi crouched down and pulled a handful of straw from his sleeping mat. "What about you, Mochi? Where do you stand?" As he spoke, the ochimusha folded pieces of straw into the same kanji character and dropped them one by one to the floor.
"I am here to help, as I said. I do not support action against the Princess."
"And what do you get out of it?"
"I am a lighthearted spirit, by nature." Mochi smiled his dazzling smile. "The strife of the war is painfully ugly to me. I prefer to be invoked by lovers and drunkards on a fine night out, not by soldiers cursing me for more light to kill by."
Toshi glanced at Michiko, who still wore the same shocked expression.
"What a pant-load," Toshi said. "Are you buying any of this, Princess? Because I don't believe the kami do anything for purely altruistic reasons. Nobody does. Right now, all we've got is a convincing illusion and this swollen little bladder's word. I say we make him give us some straight answers before we trust him."
"We?" Mochi raised an eyebrow. "But if it's straight answers you want, I stand ready. Ask away."
"Why'd you send me those portents? They led me to danger, not out of it."
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