Born of Aether: An Elemental Origins Novel (Elemental Origins Series Book 4)

by A. L. Knorr

  A tall fence blocked off the alley, and we didn't want go through the courtyard and risk being seen. Yuudai took the backpack from me and slung it over his shoulder. He bent down and threaded his fingers together, making a step for me.

  Putting my foot into his hands, I was thrown upward. I grabbed the top of the fence and hauled myself over. It was a long drop to the pavement on the other side and I hesitated.

  Yuudai pulled himself up easily with his long limbs, threw his legs over the fence and dropped onto the ground. He held his arms up to help me down.

  I lowered myself until I felt his hands lock around my shins and then let him take my weight. I dropped into his arms and he set me on my feet. I felt a touch of heat in my cheeks at how natural and pleasant it felt to be against him—like we'd known each other for years. We jogged to the end of the alley and made our way back toward Yuudai's apartment.

  I stopped abruptly on the pavement when I realized something. "I haven't paid for the hotel yet," I said.

  Yuudai turned to me. "You have a credit card?"

  I nodded and we started walking again.

  "So, just call them and tell them you had to leave unexpectedly. It'll be fine."

  "You don't think those men will grill the staff about me?"

  "Akiko," he gave me a look. "Don't put anything past those guys."

  I frowned. The hotel staff wouldn't know anything, I just hoped the yakuza men would believe that. But there was another matter pressing on my mind. "I was wondering if I could beg your help with one more thing."

  "As long as it’s not showing you how to take down a demon, ask away."

  "I think that the reason they knew where I was is because I ordered a robe from a tailor in the city center. How the two are connected I don't know, but as the tailor was measuring me one of them came out from the back and watched." I shuddered remembering his cold, calculating look.

  "Tattoos?" Yuudai asked.

  "I think so. I could only see a little of his wrist. The missing knuckles were what really gave him away."

  Yuudai nodded and scuffed his feet as we turned through a park. It was a shortcut to his apartment. "The yakuza are notorious for getting involved in any business they take a fancy to. Maybe the tailor had something going on the side and they're working together, or maybe they're threatening him. Who knows." He looked over at me curiously. "What do you need a robe for?"

  "It was Daichi's idea," I said. "It's one hundred percent silk and—"

  He stopped walking suddenly, and his eyes widened. "That's absolutely brilliant! How does it work?"

  I laughed. "You caught on quick."

  He tucked a long lock behind his ear. "I don't know why I have never thought of it."

  "So you know that silk is the only substance that doesn't dissolve in the Æther?"

  "I don't know if it’s the only substance, but it’s the only one I know of."

  "Why doesn't it?"

  "Silkworms are creatures of the Æther, too. They're a lot lower in the hierarchy than we are, but still. Daichi didn't explain that to you?"

  I shifted my bag from one shoulder to the other. Yuudai took it from me and slung it over his back. It looked like a kid’s backpack on him. "Thanks. And no, Daichi never explains things to me."

  "So how does it work?"

  "I roll it up, tie it around my neck, and wear it like a collar. It gets a little loose at times and if I have to take a really small shape then I would have to stash it somewhere, but it works okay. It's thin and light. It has a pocket I keep slippers in. It probably helps that I'm so tiny. There's not much to it."

  "I love it. I'm getting one made. I've flashed my parts at more people than I care to remember. It's amazing I haven't been arrested for indecent exposure yet."

  I laughed. Somehow I didn't think most people would mind catching a glimpse of Yuudai in the buff, but still, it was a shock to see a naked person unexpectedly. "Maybe a pair of shorts and a tank top or something?" I suggested. "If you wore a robe like mine I think you might get as much attention as if you were naked. And maybe skip the slippers?" I giggled at the thought of Yuudai scampering down a sidewalk in a thin silk bathrobe and slippers and nothing else. "Nobody warns you about the logistics of being a Hanta." I grinned.

  "Tell me about it," he said. "I have stepped and sat in so much stinging nettle over the years, I think my butt will never be the same."

  I sputtered a laugh and just then my phone rang. I fished it out of my backpack. "Daichi," I said, putting the phone to my ear. “I’m here.”

  "I am in Kyoto," Daichi said into my ear. There was a strange hum in the background, a sort of quiet static. Likely because the call was international.

  Hearing his voice after so many days of being on my own sent a jolt through my body. Without even thinking about it, my shoulders dropped and my eyes went down. "Yes. I am in Tottori just as you asked. Where should I meet you?"

  As he gave me instructions on where to meet him, I came to a halt on the sidewalk. My eyes shuttered closed and the skin across the back of my neck tingled like a ghost from the past had blown on me. "Yes. I know the spot," I said quietly. I wanted to ask 'why there?' but I just said, "I'll be there." And hung up the phone.

  Silence hung in the air until Yuudai shifted, his sneakers scraping the pavement. "So?"

  "He's in Kyoto," I said, blinking up at him. "I have to meet him at sunrise tomorrow morning." A swell of mixed emotions rushed through me. Terror. Anticipation. Uncertainty. Excitement.

  A slow grin spread across Yuudai's face. He flung a long arm across my shoulders as we resumed walking. "You will be a free Hanta by sunrise tomorrow."

  "If Daichi keeps his word," I said. Doubt had begun to make all other emotions go rancid. It was too good to be true, too hard to believe, and all things considered, too easy to achieve.

  "Where does he want to meet you?" Yuudai asked as we walked up to his apartment building.

  "That's the strange thing," I said, chewing my lip and stepping inside as he held the door open. "It's a place that was once very special to me. A clifftop overlooking the ocean."

  23

  It was still dark when I stepped off the train in Furano the next morning, but the air was sweet and clean and the birds were announcing the coming of the sun. I had left even earlier than I needed to, just because Furano was so different to me now that it would take some time to orient myself. I didn't even know if the old trails would still be there. My best hope was to head toward the ocean and follow the coast until I figured out which direction the clifftop was in. I’d be in for quite a climb.

  All the houses were dark and the streetlights were on, throwing little spotlights on the pavement. I walked through the same suburb as before and headed down an alley between two duplexes. Passing several blocks and drawing closer to the sea, the houses finally thinned and I entered the forest. There were dozens of trails threading through these woods. I stumbled over kid-sized mountain bike jumps and was spooked by more than one tree-fort looming like a black splotch in the treetops. Finally, I pulled out my phone and turned on the flashlight app to help light my way.

  Daichi was an old man. Why would he make the exchange in such a remote place, and so hard for him to reach? I half expected to stumble across him somewhere in the bush, lost and tired.

  The trail became more rocky and filled with natural steps nearly too big to step up without grunting. By the time the sky turned pink and the woods lightened enough for me to turn off my flashlight, my scalp and clothes were damp with sweat.

  A branch snapped behind me and I jumped and turned, scanning the woods. I froze, listening, but the forest had gone silent. These woods had been mine once, but they were so changed that I barely recognized the sounds of my old home. I lifted my backpack to cool my back and kept climbing. A pale light began to penetrate the canopy, dusting everything in a soft glow.

  The sound of something heavy off to my right made me freeze, my eyes questing the undergrowth. Some kind of animal
, larger than a bird but smaller than a deer, was moving alongside me. I squinted, wishing I could trade my human vision for a raptor's.

  Something furry and gray darted from behind a tree and disappeared behind a rock. I let out a breath. It was just a small fox. I kept climbing. A few minutes later I saw the gray fox again, this time his little face appeared from under the leaves of a shrub.

  "I knew a fox once," I said to it quietly as I kept walking. "But black and much bigger than you. Crafty, she was." It lowered its face to the ground and I got a glimpse of his body. A solid dove gray, with a patch of mange on its haunches. Even his eyes were the color of gunmetal. It darted away into the underbrush.

  I kept hiking and didn't see the fox anymore, but I knew it was around. Every once in a while a twig would break or the leaves would rustle behind me.

  I was very close now, and the sound of waves and gulls filled the air. I climbed up over the last of the boulders and stepped out onto the clifftop where I had fallen in love, where I had shared secrets with my sister, where I’d had my first kiss.

  I gasped at how much it had changed. The clifftop used to be so wide you could barely throw a rock from one side of it to the other, and so deep that if you stood with your back at the tree line and looked out, you couldn't see any water at all, just clear blue sky.

  In the time that I had been gone, half of the cliff had cracked and fallen into the sea. The forest was thicker, bigger, and tangled with vines and undergrowth. The clifftop itself was more worn down and smooth from rain. My eyes fell on an army-green woolen bedroll and a small leather satchel propped against a tree trunk. He'd spent the night here?

  Daichi stood at the cliff edge with his back to me, his hands clasped behind him and looking down at the water. But it wasn't how the cliff had changed, or Daichi's presence that filled me with dread. It was the fact that he was dressed in traditional white samurai robes. My hands grew cold and flew to my mouth as a knot of emotion tightened in my chest. I knew what the white robes meant.

  He heard my footsteps but didn't turn to face me. I approached the cliff edge and stood there beside him, looking out as the sun cleared the horizon. My eyes were drawn down to the rubble below us. The waves lapped over the rocky beach that looked so different from the one I used to enjoy with Aimi or Toshi. The beach had eroded, and a handful of run-down fishing boats were tied up at posts that never used to be there.

  The shock at what Daichi was going to do faded fast. In the time it took to take one full breath, I kicked myself for not realizing sooner that it was what had to be done. It had been on my lips that he didn't need to do this, but of course, I was wrong. If I was going to be free, he had to give me my tamashī back, and my tamashī was inside him. There was no doubt in my mind that Daichi had been a samurai at one time in his life. For him, this would be an honorable death. Samurai of long-ago always carried two swords: the katana for their enemies, and the wakizashi for themselves.

  I dropped my backpack from my shoulders and pulled the wakizashi out. He inclined his head slightly in my direction. His expression was peaceful, even pleased. I handed him the short sword.

  "You did not fail me." He grasped the sword with both hands and looked down at it. "I have not laid eyes on this sword in a century." He hefted it, and grasped the handle, pulling the blade from its sheath. The metal shone in the sun. He tested the edge with his thumb in a practiced movement, and seemed satisfied with its sharpness.

  It was then that I noticed the matching katana threaded through his belt, the same blue sheath inlaid with mother-of-pearl in the shape of trees. Daichi pulled the long sword out and handed it to me.

  I blinked at him, confused. Then his request sank in. Samurai who committed seppuku were seconded by a loyal friend. After the warrior cut open his own belly, the friend would decapitate him to end his suffering quickly. I swallowed and stepped back.

  "Please don't make me," I whispered. If he commanded me, there would be nothing I could do about it, whether or not I felt capable, I could not deny him an order.

  He looked me in the eye. For as long as I had known him he was lined and aged, and his eyes had always had a dead quality to them. No, not dead, grieving. For the first time, they did not appear sad, but relieved.

  He simply held the sword out to me and for several breaths, we were statues on a clifftop. He wasn't going to command me, and I realized with a sinking stomach that it was because I had no choice anyway. I wasn't going to let him suffer in agony while he slowly bled to death. Belly-cutting was not a quick way to die.

  I grasped the handle of the sword and took it from him. My mouth was void of all moisture and my vision blurred at the edges. Could this be real? Was this really happening? Was I about to decapitate my captor and companion of multiple decades?

  Daichi faced me and bowed in thanks, the first time he had ever made the polite gesture toward me. I bowed back.

  When he kneeled down at the edge of the cliff, facing out to sea, I backed away to give him privacy. Every muscle in my body was vibrating in fear of what he’d asked of me, what I was about to witness. He pulled an envelope painted with kanji out of his robe and set it on the ground beside him. He picked up a rock and set it on top of the envelope. He untied the belt at his waist and opened his robe down to the belly.

  I panicked. I couldn't watch. It was worse than watching Raiden humiliate Fujio, way worse. I turned around and walked back to the forest, stepping far enough inside the woods that Daichi would have the clifftop to himself, and close enough that I could still see his kneeling form at the cliff's edge.

  "This can't be real, this can't be real," I whispered, looking down at the weapon in my hand. I pulled the sword from its sheath and held it in both hands, straight up. I took shaky breaths and turned around to face Daichi.

  He was still kneeling, his back to me and the wakizashi on the ground at his side. He had his head bowed. I wondered what he was thinking in these last moments. I knew what I was thinking. This was crazy, and not at all where I thought our relationship would end up. When his withered hand reached for the wakizashi, I dropped my eyes. Sweat sprang out all over my body and I slapped a hand over my mouth to choke off a sob.

  There was no sound on the breeze. Not a groan of pain or a whimper. When Daichi collapsed to the side it was like watching a silent film.

  "Daichi," I meant to scream but it came out as a choked sob. "No." Everything in my body regretted this moment. There must have been another way. Tears blurred my vision and I shook my head and picked up the sword. He was suffering and I had to end it. It would be an act of mercy. Who knew mercy could be so hard, ask so much.

  I stepped out from the woods and halted when a bright light flashed at the cliff's edge. A bright white ball of light was hovering over Daichi's frame. My tamashī.

  Squinting, I strode forward, raising the katana. But I froze to the spot again when the color of Daichi's neck and ankles went from pink to ashen gray. Then his form crumbled into dust.

  The white robe collapsed into a heap and a breeze picked up some of his ashes, swirling them up into the air and out over the water. I lifted my face to the sky, watching what was left of Daichi drift and scatter on the wind.

  There was nothing left of him now, nothing but what I held in my memory. Nothing but a white robe, two samurai swords, and some paper. Did that mean he was at peace?

  I could have wept with relief. I wouldn't have to raise a sword to him after all. The moment the tamashī left his body, he reverted to the form he should have been in years ago. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

  I wiped the tears away from my face and crossed the cliff, my hand reaching for the tamashī. A scuffing sound on the rock made me turn as a shadow fell across me.

  A violent shove sent me flying sideways. My neck snapped painfully. I screamed with shock and surprise. The katana fell from my grip and clattered on the stones. I skidded across the rock, bruising my shoulder, and stopped dangerously close to the cliff edge.

  The l
ight from my tamashī disappeared as a hand closed around it.

  I rolled over onto my back, scrambling away from the ledge. Blinking, I looked up at the shape that towered over me and blocked out the sunrise.

  The hand holding my tamashī opened and Raiden looked at it. He wore sunglasses, and the light of my tamashī illuminated his face and mirrored in the lenses of his glasses. My throat felt choked with shock. How had he tracked me? My mind flashed back to the hum on the phonecall I’d had with Daichi, and the tailor who had my number. I squeezed my eyes shut and cursed my own sloppiness.

  "A Hanta tamashī." He gave an amazed laugh, like he could not believe his good fortune. "I never dreamed it could be as easy as that. Served up on a platter."

  "No!" I screamed. My heart had stopped, my brain refused to believe what it was seeing. "Raiden, don't!"

  He dropped the tamashī into the pocket of his suit jacket and patted it like it was some rare coin or a banknote.

  Fury filled me. Blood rushed to my face and made me feel like my head was going to explode. I scrambled to my feet and went for the katana. A few moments before, I had been having doubts as to whether I could kill, even if it was to ease suffering. Now it was all I could think about. I could not stand to have my freedom snatched away again, this time likely for good. There would be no release from this captivity. The thought of being under the control of a host of Oni, especially after all I had been through, enraged me.

  I grabbed the katana and held it up in front of my face, ready for combat. Every nerve was a live-wire. The blade quivered in the air.

  "I would rather die than serve you," I seethed. "Give it back to me." My mind raced and I debated turning the blade on myself, since the odds of actually defeating him in combat were zero.

  Raiden looked unafraid—bored, even. "Or what?"