As it was, the sanzoku were barely able to approach the town before Mishi and Mitsu sent another storm of devastation and flame against them. It was death to any of the men who were caught in the storm, but the sanzoku had quickly learned to flee as soon as they saw Mishi and Mitsu’s presence above the wall. They had promptly taken to crouching behind the crenellations on the wall, only standing up to rain fire down on the sanzoku below.
But the sanzoku knew that time was their ally. Mishi and Mitsu might have a great deal of power, but they had limited energy. If the sanzoku harried the walls long enough, the fire storms would eventually cease.
Inari and Namura had already sent a runner from the western gate to let Mishi know that they were tiring, and wouldn’t be able to continue much longer. Mishi thought that she and Mitsu would tire not long after them. Besides, how much would their continued efforts matter, if the western gate was lost to the sanzoku?
She took a deep breath, peering through the embrasure to see what the enemy was doing. Another band of two dozen sanzoku was approaching the gate once more. It was probably just another feint to get them to use up their kisō, but the men carried hatchets, and six of them hefted a metal-tipped battering ram between them. She had no doubt that, if she and Mitsu failed to fend them off with fire once more, they would make an attempt on the gate. They couldn’t allow that. Once the men got close enough, any attempt to set them ablaze would just as likely set the wooden parts of the gate aflame as well. Their defense would be worth nothing if they burned the town down with their efforts.
She locked eyes with Mitsu, who looked as exhausted as she felt, and his head bent in acknowledgement of their next attack. Moving as one, they stood and turned toward the men moving in the direction of the gate.
Mishi called forth her fire, and Mitsu brought forth wind to spread it farther and faster than she would ever have been able to alone. The inferno that hurtled toward the men approaching the gate was formidable, and Mishi was careful to control the flames so that they didn’t reach for any target they shouldn’t consume. It wasn’t long before her exhaustion began to tug at her, and she turned to Mitsu, ready to pull them both down behind the wall.
Yet for some reason, as she reached for him, Mitsu’s eyes widened. He began to fall away from her, off the side of the steps that let them stand above the wall’s zenith, toward the deck below.
She didn’t register the arrow sticking through his shoulder, or the blood that trickled from his mouth, as he fell from her; not really. All she could see were the whites of his eyes, and the limp hand that she had tried to grab, as he slipped from her and collapsed on the deck below.
Her heart stopped. The world stopped. And then she screamed, even as she leapt the steps to land on the deck beside him.
~~~
There was too much blood. That was all she could think. There was too much blood, and why, why, why did the kami-cursed archer have to shoot Mitsu? Why couldn’t he have shot her? Wasn’t she the bigger threat anyway? Couldn’t they tell that she was the monster, and that Mitsu was…good? Whole? A person who didn’t deserve to die?
She thought she might be crying. Her face was wet, but she ignored that. She was too busy pressing the cloth from her hakama against the wound around the arrow shaft, trying to remember everything Taka had ever told her about arrow wounds. She knew that, in general, bleeding was something one wanted to stop, and that pressure helped, but she couldn’t remember if she was supposed to take the arrow out, or leave it in. She knew Taka had told her once, and she thought Kuma-sensei had too, but she’d never had to heal an arrow wound before, and now she couldn’t remember. So, she did the only thing she knew to do—she pressed against the blood that seeped from the arrow through Mitsu’s shoulder, trying to ignore how far away his mind felt, and how weak his kisō seemed.
She wished, desperately, that Taka were here. She had never wished for anything so hard in all of her life.
Perhaps that was why, when Taka suddenly arrived beside her, she wasn’t completely surprised.
“He’s not breathing, Taka-chan! Why isn’t he breathing?”
Taka had just barely reached the eastern gate when she found Mishi, crouched beside Mitsu’s prone form, his legs sprawled awkwardly beneath him, lying far too still.
Taka looked closely at the arrow sticking out of Mitsu’s shoulder, and thought she could guess why his breathing might have stopped, but she didn’t take time to speculate or to speak. She maneuvered herself to Mitsu’s side, gently pushing Mishi farther away from the wound so that she could have full access to it, but not so far that it would prevent Mishi from touching him. If Mishi was lending him her kisō, as Taka suspected, it wasn’t something she wanted to interrupt. It might be the only thing giving him the strength to function right now.
Taka closed her eyes, pressing her hand to Mitsu’s exposed neck and sending her kisō spreading easily through his body. She was relieved to find his heart still beating, but unsurprised to find his lungs unmoving. Between the arrow embedded in his right lung, and the impact of his fall to the wooden decking that circled the wall halfway up, she didn’t think his lungs would be moving without help anytime soon. She would have to work quickly.
She felt Mishi’s kisō brush against her own, and she took a moment to direct it, without words, to the beating of Mitsu’s heart. Mishi couldn’t manipulate Mitsu’s blood the way that Taka could, but she could give the heart the energy it needed to continue, even with a stalled blood flow, and that would help Taka immensely as she worked to heal his lungs and get them back to working on their own.
She took a deep breath and focused her kisō on the area around the arrow shaft. Then she looked up, opening her eyes.
“You,” she said to the nearest warrior, who stood waiting for his turn at the archery slot. “I need you to come break this arrow and pull it from his shoulder—can you do it?”
She couldn’t focus on all the repair work she would need to do while also breaking and removing the arrow cleanly herself.
The archer, who had greying hair and a small scar coming from the corner of his mouth, said nothing, but he nodded and stepped forward. She supposed that, if he were old enough and had seen real battle, he might not be unused to removing arrows from his fellows.
Taka kept most of her focus on the internal war being waged within Mitsu’s chest, doing her best to keep more blood from finding its way into the lungs themselves, even as the archer went to work breaking the arrow and pulling it from Mitsu. Luckily, Mitsu was unconscious already, and he did little to struggle against the painful procedure.
Taka worked as quickly as she could, after that, and only took a brief moment to mentally thank Kusuko and all the kami for bringing her here in time to save Mitsu. There was much to be done. She did her best to bring the tissues of his lung together, so that they would seal well enough to take in air once more, as well as sealing the blood vessels that had been severed by the path of the arrow. She tried to clean up the blood that had already leaked its way into Mitsu’s lungs, but there was only so much she could do at one time, and getting the flesh to heal enough so that his lungs could move on their own had to be her top priority.
Eventually, she felt Mishi’s kisō flagging, and knew that her friend had already pushed herself beyond what was reasonable.
“Mishi-san, you’ve done very well. Stay with me here, and hold his hand, but that’s enough kisō from you. He won’t thank me if I let you kill yourself, and I can do the rest.”
Taka didn’t open her eyes, or stop her treatment, as she said this, and she hoped that Mishi wouldn’t object. She barely had the energy to continue her work, let alone argue with a stubborn Kisōshi. She, Kusuko, and the children had been traveling non-stop for the past day and a half, and she had little energy to spare.
Taka didn’t think it was a good sign for Mishi’s health that she did as she was asked immediately, but she waved the thought away and continued to focus on Mitsu.
She now had t
o keep his heart running while she finished the repairs on his blood vessels. She would need to get his lungs moving again soon, though. The blood that she was circulating through his body via his heart didn’t have enough oxygen in it, and would soon fail to do its job.
So she left off cleaning up blood vessels, and instead asked Mishi to use Mitsu’s own uwagi to bind the hole that remained close to the skin. She had healed most of the internal damage, but she would have to rest before she could bind up the outer wound. For now, she would have to rely on the pressure of the securely tied garment. Mishi responded quickly, setting about the process while Taka continued to work with the internal torn flesh and the heart.
When Mishi was done, Taka decided it was time.
“Mishi, I need you to pinch Mitsu’s nose closed and breathe into his lungs for him.”
“What?”
Taka was still focused on keeping Mitsu’s heart beating, so she didn’t open her eyes to inspect her friend’s expression, though she imagined it was confused.
“Tilt his head until his mouth opens, then place your mouth over his so that it covers it completely, and then breathe the air from your lungs into his.”
She didn’t think Mishi would be squeamish about the procedure, but she realized it might be a difficult thing to understand from a simple verbal explanation. If Taka could have done it herself while still keeping the rest of Mitsu’s vital organs going, she would have, but she was too exhausted from all her efforts to heal him so far, and she didn’t want to risk letting his heart stop its rhythm.
Mishi didn’t ask any further questions, as the second explanation apparently sufficed, and after a moment she heard her friend take a great breath of air and then exhale it forcefully.
“Now sit back!” Taka added, hoping she’d spoken in time.
Taka hadn’t performed this breath on many patients, but the few that she had performed it on had vomited blood or water shortly after their lungs had restarted.
She could sense the air that had been forced into Mitsu’s lungs, and only broke contact when he turned and coughed up blood onto the deck. She opened her eyes and saw that Mishi had, in fact, turned him, and that Mitsu’s eyes were still closed.
“He’s breathing,” Taka whispered.
Mishi said nothing, but she nodded, her hand still on Mitsu’s shoulder.
Taka closed her eyes again, this time in exhaustion, and let the tears slide quietly down her cheeks. After a moment, she felt Mishi’s hand grab hers, and she let out a deep breath that she hadn’t known she’d been holding.
Mishi took a deep breath and looked around her. When Mitsu had begun breathing again, it felt as though the world had suddenly opened up to include something other than the tiny circle of Mitsu, Mishi, and Taka.
He was still unconscious, but he was breathing on his own, and Taka was right here. Mishi took a long look at her friend.
“How?” she asked, unsure of how to finish the question, but knowing that Taka would understand her.
“Kusuko-san,” Taka replied. “She woke me in the middle of the night, and told me that you and Mitsu were in grave danger.”
Mishi didn’t answer for a moment, wondering, silently, how in the world Kusuko had known about the danger in time for them to get here, but before she could voice her concerns, Taka continued on her own.
“We only stopped moving long enough to alert the New Council troops that we encountered on their way to the Zōkame estate, and tell them that they were needed to apprehend a horde of sanzoku.”
At that piece of news, Mishi’s jaw dropped, all questions about Kusuko’s sources forgotten.
“You brought New Council soldiers with you?” she asked.
Taka nodded.
“They’re riding in behind the sanzoku to take them by surprise. Kusuko and I came ahead.”
“How many men? And how did you get through the sanzoku and past the gates?”
“Seventy-five men, but they’re all trained Kisōshi. Kusuko and I found a set of tunnels that led us under the wall. She seemed to know where they were, but she didn’t mention how. I decided to ask her…later.”
Mishi thought about that reply, deciding that Taka had her own reasons for trusting or not trusting Kusuko-san. It wasn’t her place to question that trust, at the moment. Instead, she decided to focus on more urgent issues.
“Seventy-five trained Kisōshi might help us turn the tide of this battle, but if Mitsu and I aren’t defending the wall, it may not be enough.”
Taka’s face paled a bit.
“It’s that bad?” she asked.
Mishi nodded.
“Didn’t you see, as you came in?”
Taka shook her head.
“We went north through the woods, and then found the tunnels that Kusuko knew of. We never got close enough to the sanzoku to see them. We didn’t want to risk the children, or ourselves, if they should decide to attack us.”
“The children?” she asked.
“We had to bring them. We had no safe place to leave them. I had just taken them to Inari-san when I felt you calling for me.”
Just as Mishi began to wonder if the children were safe with Inari-san, a high-pitched keening stole her attention, and a flash of wings and wind landed on Taka’s arm.
Mishi knew better than to ask what Riyōshi was saying until Taka volunteered it, so even though she was desperate to know what information the hawk had brought them, she waited.
When Taka turned to look at her, there was a smile ghosting her lips and eyes.
“There are a hundred New Council soldiers headed to the western gate.”
20th Day, 3rd Moon, Cycle 1 of the New Council
KUSUKO RESISTED THE urge to shift her weight, as she knelt on the tatami floor in Inari’s receiving room. She was sure she was being watched, but even if she were not, her training would not allow her to demonstrate that kind of discomfort, no matter how long she was kept waiting, kneeling on a floor in full kimono. Instead, she focused on the peaceful paintings that decorated the wall ahead of her, and the pleasant scent of grass mats on a warm day. She pointedly ignored the sensation of bloodless legs that hadn’t been allowed to move since she’d been led to this room, over a candleburn ago.
It was convenient, she thought, that Inari was the Kisōshi in charge of this town, at least in terms of her needing to report to him. It was perfectly reasonable that she be asked to meet with him after helping to save Shikazenji from destruction. Besides, Taka and her friends all knew that she was associated with Inari somehow, so fooling them was no longer part of her concern.
What did concern her was that she had never known that Inari maintained the persona of a Kisōshi with a holding. She had known him her entire life, and she had never once heard him speak of this place, or these people.
She thought she shouldn’t be surprised, really, considering Inari’s occupation, and the intentionally limited ways in which they’d interacted, but it seemed like the kind of information she should have learned, especially given the number of times that she had spied on the man.
Finally, Inari entered the room, dressed in his usual golden hakama and white uwagi, katana and wakizashi at his side. He folded himself to the floor before her, bowing a polite amount before looking her in the eyes.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” he said.
His face was the usual blank puzzle that he presented when receiving a report, and Kusuko once more fought the urge to shift her weight, though this time from nerves rather than the discomfort in her knees. She wasn’t sure how much Inari knew about the orders she had received from Mamushi-san, or how he would feel about her choices. There was a chance, she thought, since the results of her choices had saved this town, that Inari would agree with her decisions and withhold the truth from her father. She didn’t think it was likely, since Inari had worked with Mamushi-san for so many cycles. The likelihood that he held the same “practical” views as her father, that he wouldn’t take into account his own emot
ional ties to the town, and would only be concerned with the fact that she hadn’t followed her orders, was still quite high. Most importantly, she needed to come up with an explanation that didn’t let on how much her decision had been based on her desire to protect Taka. If it got back to Mamushi-san that she had tried to protect Taka’s friends…she might as well paint targets on them all, and invite a team of hishi to their sleeping quarters.
“I’m surprised to find you here, Inari-san. I would never have guessed you led such a peaceful existence outside of your work.”
Inari laughed, which caught Kusuko off guard. She had expected more of his careful blankness.
“Would you call it peaceful, then, to be besieged by hundreds of sanzoku?”
Kusuko allowed a smirk to play across her mouth.
“Is that a regular occurrence here?” she asked. “Do you always have sanzoku surrounding your town?”
The smile didn’t fade from Inari’s mouth, but some of the mirth left his eyes.
“The reason I built a wall around this town is indeed because we face an inordinate number of mountain bandits, and the like. As you’ve no doubt ascertained, my work requires that I often leave my town without its primary defense—me. I decided that the simplest solution was to build a wall that could be defended even without a Kisōshi presence. Though I’m afraid I never expected anything like the mass of enemies that came upon us yesterday.”
“Indeed,” Kusuko replied. “Yesterday’s numbers were entirely unpredictable.”
She let the emphasis of that word sit for a moment, hoping that Inari would take her meaning. After all, the last time that she had seen him, he’d been deep in the mountains, along with the rest of them. Had he known in advance that his own town would be attacked, or was it merely coincidence that he’d returned home before the sanzoku had arrived?
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