by A. L. Knorr
I took a deep breath to settle my nerves and walked up the steps to the entrance. I passed through the doors and approached the ticket booth. The noise of the street was shut out and the sound of my footsteps was muffled by a strip of carpet leading to a set of turnstiles.
"Ticket for one, please," I said to the woman working at the booth. I paid four hundred yen for my ticket and inserted it into the turnstile. I passed through the metal bar and went inside. The museum was impeccably clean and quiet. Banners hung on the walls advertising displays.
I took a pamphlet from a stand behind the turnstile and opened it out to see a map. Displays were unhelpfully labeled 'Men Who Changed Japan,' and 'Shoguns at Tokugawa's End.' I frowned. Nothing on the map directed me to where I would find swords. A silent wander down a carpeted hall lined with glass display boxes had me chewing my lip nervously. Anything of value was enclosed behind glass, and the artifacts had not been organized by category but by year. Daichi had not given me any clue as to how old the wakizashi was, so it seemed as though I would have to comb every display to find it.
My eyes tracked the curved shapes of katanas – the long samurai swords, and wakizashi, but they were few and far between. I kept wandering, keeping my pace slow and my face serene. If there was video in this place, it wouldn't help to have me recorded as rushing from sword to sword.
I took my time and combed every display with the thorough eye of a sleuth. Only when I was satisfied that the blue sheathed wakizashi was not on the ground floor level did I head for the second floor.
Hushed voices reached my ears from the upper level and I took the stairs at the end of the display. A few couples stood near the glass cases, discussing the artifacts in front of them. A woman in a museum uniform stood near the top of the stairs. I nodded to her as I passed, holding my ticket where she could see it. She gave me a polite smile.
I passed a rusting metal shell from the Boshin War and stopped to read the label, playing the interested citizen. I moved on slowly, taking in the art, armor, and reading the stories, making my way toward the entrance to the next room and the only display I hadn't yet combed. I passed through the doorway. A man with a white beard in a janitor’s uniform bumped my shoulder as he walked by me.
"Excuse me," I said.
He turned and said, "Pardon me."
In my periphery, I thought he stopped there in the doorway. I kept walking, my back to him. As I turned to face another display, I caught him in the corner of my eye. He was staring. My heart rate went up a notch. I did my best to ignore his probing eyes.
My anxiety grew as I moved along. The short sword didn’t seem to be on the upper level either. I examined the map to be certain that I hadn't missed any of the displays. I walked back and forth so many times I lost count.
Our wakizashi was not here.
My fingers felt ice cold and I shoved my hands into my pockets to warm them. Daichi and I hadn't discussed what we would do if the sword wasn’t here. I chewed my lip, my mind racing. I would have to ask the museum staff. What else could I do? It would damn me later, but by the time they put my seemingly innocent request together with the missing sword, I would be long gone.
I made my way back to the woman in the museum uniform, passing by the janitor, who still seemed to be keeping an eye on me.
"Excuse me?" I smiled as I approached her.
"Yes?" She stood and stepped closer to me, pleasant, ready to help.
"I came to see a particular wakizashi..." I retrieved the printout of the weapon from my purse. "It is a really beautiful artifact and I was so hoping to see it, but I haven't been able to find it. It was in your promotional video. Can you direct me to where it is displayed?"
She pulled a pair of glasses out of the inner pocket of her jacket and put them on. She took the page and looked at it. Her smile disappeared and a line appeared between her eyes. "This sword was retrieved by its owner. I'm sorry but it's no longer part of the display." She said the words bluntly and handed the page back to me. She took a step back, removed her glasses and tucked them into her pocket. Her eyes shuttered, but not before I saw a flash of fear. She clasped her hands behind her back.
"Before the scheduled date?" I pressed. My stomach dipped with anxiety. "They were supposed to be on display for another week. I came especially to see this wakizashi."
She gave a sharp shake of her head. "I'm sorry. It can sometimes happen. We are grateful to our sponsors for allowing us to display their treasures." She sounded like an automaton. "If, for some reason, they need to retrieve their items early, that is their right. Now, if you'll excuse me."
She turned on her heel and walked briskly away, pulling the hem of her jacket down sharply.
"Wait, please," I said, following her. "Who is the owner?"
She didn't look back, and instead increased her speed and exited the display area.
Worry multiplied in my gut like a split-open sack of baby spiders, its creatures running in all directions. Her reaction was not at all normal. What had happened to the sword? Why would its owner remove it? Did they somehow know I was coming? I shook my head at this impossibility. Daichi was relying on my success; he wouldn't tell anyone of our plans, and I couldn't have spilled our plot even if I had wanted to.
Movement caught my eye. The janitor appeared in the doorway behind me. His expression was so strange, like he was trying hard to recognize me, like he thought I might be someone who meant something to him once. We stared at each other. I studied his face, but no, I didn't know this man. I was sure of it.
He took a few steps closer, his face going through a remarkable transformation. Curiosity to suspicion, suspicion to shock, shock to joy. He stopped a mere foot away, his upper body swaying toward me slightly. His dark eyes never left my face.
"Can I help you?" I asked. The look on his face frightened me, almost like he'd found a long-lost friend or family member.
"Akuna Hanta," he whispered. His eyebrows were up, his eyes fully alight. It was not a question. There was a surety in his face. He knew what I was.
I froze in shock, then gave a sharp intake of breath and scanned the room. The other museum patrons were locked in their own conversations and paid us no mind.
"How do you know what I am?" I whispered.
"Forgive me, I overheard your conversation with Mrs. Okina. You are looking for the wakizashi? The one with the beautiful blue sheath," he said, stepping even closer.
"Yes." My heart was drumming like the hoofbeats of a runaway horse. Alarm bells were going off in my head so loud I could hardly think. How did this man know me? My instinct told me to run, but my command told to me grab this lead with both hands. "Why, do you know where it is?"
He looked around, eyes darting about the room as though we were about to make an exchange of illegal contraband. He shoved a hand into his pocket and retrieved a crumpled receipt. He plucked a pen from his shirt pocket and scribbled something on the back of the scrap. It was then that I noticed that he was missing the end of his right pinkie finger.
"Come here. Tonight. Come alone. It is my place, and there it will be safe to talk." He shoved the crumpled paper into my hand, and dropped the pen into his pocket. He dipped a small bow. "Please. I need to help you."
"Who are you?" I asked, breathlessly. Just then another museum staff member appeared at the top of the stairs. He frowned at us. It probably looked like one of his cleaning staff was harassing a patron.
The janitor tapped his index finger on the paper. "My name is Inaba. Come tonight. For dinner." He turned away, giving a surreptitious glance at the staff member and disappearing behind a door marked staff only.
I opened the crumpled page. A simple address. Nothing else. I blew out a breath. I need to help you. Strange choice of words. Why need? And why was it not safe to talk here?
9
As Toshi and my wedding drew closer, Mother spent a lot more time with me. She taught me how to make a tea ceremony for my husband, how to manage a household, when to shop for the
best cuts of meat, how to speak to the tailor to tell him how I wanted my family’s clothing to fit, how to choose the best fabrics for each kind of outfit, and what a husband would expect on our wedding night. Every conversation held me in thrall, and my mother's vague description of the way babies were made left me blushing and anxiety-ridden. If the way horses and dogs did it was any indication, I wasn’t so sure I was up for the duty, even with Toshi. My mother reassured me, with a pink face, that sometimes it could be simply wonderful.
One day as we walked home from the tailor after a fitting for my wedding kimono, we passed Toshi and Kito in the street going the opposite direction. Toshi had a basket fastened to his back and I could hear the clink of metal as he shifted his load. We acknowledged each other with deferential nods and continued on our way. Before Toshi passed out of my vision, I saw a big grin break out on his face and I couldn't help but smile myself.
"Stop grinning like a fool," my mother said quietly. "There are already enough young women jealous of you; you don't need to gloat." Her words were stern but her voice was gentle.
I pressed my lips together. I glanced around the street and noticed the eyes of several people on me, mostly the calculating stares of women close to my age. I hadn't been gloating, but I saw her point. "Sorry, Mama."
"My dear, Akiko," she said as we passed through the busiest part of town and the crowd began to thin. "Are you certain that marriage is what you want?"
I came to an abrupt halt, shock widening my eyes. I thought that I had heard her wrong. For young women of our time, marrying well was the ultimate achievement; there was nothing else. For my own mother to ask me if it was what I wanted was impossible, unthinkable, beyond reason.
"Mama?" was all I could manage. I was walking slightly behind her, as was our custom, and I craned my neck to see her face.
Only the side of her face was visible and she showed no signs of having made a joke. She remained silent until we arrived home.
"You are Akuna Hanta," my mother began as we boiled water for tea. "For whatever reason, the Æther has chosen to gift you with this power. Are you certain that your role in this world will be fulfilled if you marry Toshi? Or any man?"
"But I love him," I said. "I do not understand what I am to do if it is not to be a loving wife."
The look on my mother's face told me that she didn't know either, and she was at a loss for how to council me. All any mother would want for her daughter was a man like Toshi, but I was no normal daughter. She sat down across from me on the floor.
"Is this not what you want for me?" I asked, examining her face for some revelation.
"I did," she admitted. "Up until the day you first took the form of a bird, it was all I wanted for you."
I poured the hot water into our cast iron kettle and set it on the table. Pulling down two cups, I joined my mother at the table and we waited for the tea to steep.
"When your father found Aimi, she was cold, naked and hungry. She didn't know how to speak, and she had nothing and no one."
"Did Father know what she was?"
"Not at first," she said, stroking a few wisps of loose hair back from her face. "Kitsune are something that we are told about as children. They may or may not be a fairy tale, and the legends of them bringing either great fortune or great destruction to the families or men who take them in are just that, legends."
"But legends come from somewhere," I said. These were words I had heard my father say many times in the past.
Mother nodded. "Most people dismiss Kitsune as myth, your father and I included. But as we nursed Aimi back to health, and saw her intelligence and how quickly she learned to speak, we began to have our suspicions. Your father's business had been struggling and soon after taking her in, everything seemed to go right and we became much more prosperous. When I was approached by a large black fox in the garden one summer day, I knew without a doubt that I was looking at our adopted daughter. She never had to tell us in so many words, what she was. She knew when we were ready to see her in her true form, and it wasn't even a shock. Before Aimi came into our lives, marrying a daughter to someone like Kito's son would have been impossible, a dream. But after..." She trailed off.
"After, what?" I prompted her, as I picked up the teapot to pour her tea. The steaming liquid filled the air with the scent of toasted rice and greens.
She raised her eyes to mine. "Do you remember anything from when you were still in my womb?"
I blinked in surprise. "Is it possible for a baby to remember something from before their birth?"
"Not a normal child, no, I don't think so. I only ask because I have never felt anything like what I felt when Aimi gave you her blessing. It was so powerful that I thought you might have some memory of it."
I sat down across from her, the tea forgotten. "What did you feel, Mother?"
She got a faraway look in her eyes. "The only word I can think of to describe it was ecstasy," she said softly.
My breath caught in my chest for in that moment my mother's face looked as youthful as mine. It was as though just the memory of the moment was enough to erase the lines of worry that had etched themselves into her skin over the years. My mother had always been beautiful, even as she aged, but just then she was a window into the past. My body swept with gooseflesh and I was afraid to speak, afraid that it would break the spell.
"I was already eight moons and you were such an active baby. You would kick with excitement whenever Aimi laid her hand on my belly. But that day, she laid her hand on my belly and brought her face close to you. She whispered, 'For giving me a home and a family, I give your daughter a tamashī. May she take it and be blessed.'" My mother closed her eyes and a tear escaped and rolled down her pale cheek. "They were simple words. I did not know what a tamashī was, but in that moment I was overcome by a feeling of so much love. It was everywhere inside and outside of me, it erased every bad feeling and bad dream I had ever had, and filled me completely. It chased out all of my fear and anxieties, of which there were many, and I knew only rest and peace." She wiped the tear away. "I have been wishing for another small taste of that feeling ever since, and I wonder if it is what good people feel after they die." She focused on me. "When you were born, all the women of the village heard from the midwife about how easy the birth was. I didn't know what to expect, but you were just a normal baby, pink and perfect, and even your father was not disappointed that you were born a girl."
"That too, was a gift from Aimi," I said, and my mother nodded in agreement.
My mother laughed. "Your father and I were shocked beyond reason the first time you became a bird. Why you chose to become a tiny peacock to wander in our garden was beyond me."
I gave a half-smile. "I saw one at the traveling fair that came through Furano when I was six. Do you remember? I was so enchanted by it."
"Oh, is that why?" She laughed again. "I pulled Aimi aside and asked her what it meant and she was just as surprised as we were. She looked so pale and serious until she saw that it scared me and then told me not to worry. She said, 'She has taken the tamashī I gave her and become an Akuna Hanta. There is nothing false in her, for the Æther has chosen her to be one of the highest beings of its realm.'”
It was nice to hear this story, to finally know something of what had happened to make me what I was, but I felt the growing weight of expectations. Yes, I could have wings, but beyond that I was just a regular girl, unremarkable. I had never even seen an akuna, didn't even know what a demon looked like or how they affected people, how they operated.
"So," my mother interrupted my thoughts. "When I ask you if you are sure that marriage is what you want, it is with all of this in mind. Knowing that the Æther has chosen you for its purpose, and that you will be used for good in this world, who are we to commit you to the life of wife and mother?" She picked up her steaming cup and raised it to her lips.
"Maybe," I ventured, "maybe being a wife and a mother is necessary for me to grow into my Hanta powers. For what
good is it to be a defender and a protector of humans against the demonic realms, if I have not had the human experience myself?"
My mother stared at me over her cup, thinking over my words. She took a sip and put her cup down. "I suspect some of your Hanta wisdom is beginning to show itself." She inclined her head in a show of deference that mothers rarely gave to their daughters. "As you wish."
10
"You're late," I said to Toshi as he came through the trees and into the sunlight beating down on our rock slab.
"I am sorry," he said, breathing hard from the climb. "Father has graduated me to weighing the value of the swords we turn out of our ovens. It is not as easy as you might think. I have to practice with every weapon we make before I can make an educated recommendation for price. I feel like he knows that soon I will no longer be under his roof and is trying to extract every bit of labor from me that he can."
Toshi's words could have been taken as a complaint, but his tone was good-natured. He approached and dipped his head at me politely, then swooped in and kissed my cheek.
"But you like swinging swords around," I said. "I've never seen you happier."
"My happiness has nothing to do with swordplay, I assure you," Toshi laughed. "And what has my little bird been up to these last days?"
My heart always swelled when he called me by this nickname. Toshi did not know I was a Hanta, and yet he'd chosen 'little bird' for me. I knew it was for my fine bones and tiny stature, but I liked to think it was also because he could feel my other nature in some way.
We talked and laughed until Toshi had to go. It was his duties which kept us apart more than mine. We kissed goodbye and agreed to meet again in a few days. I watched his figure retreat into the woods and then I turned back to the ocean. I sat down cross-legged in a patch of sunlight, absorbing the heat from the clifftop. Birds sang and chirped without restraint. I spotted the backs of two whales cresting in the water. Two pelicans winged overtop, so close to one another that their wings nearly touched. Every creature needed its companion. A pang went through my heart. Aimi and I had not played for weeks. We'd hardly exchanged words.