by Julie Kagawa
“Around,” Master Isao replied, continuing to whittle chips from the wood block in his hand. “I see them occasionally. From time to time, our paths will cross. But they have their own paths to walk now. Their own terms and conclusions to reach. I cannot guide them down these roads—they must find their own way to the beginning.”
“I don’t understand, Master Isao.”
“Yumeko-chan.” Master Isao’s voice was firm. He lowered the items in his hands and stared at me, his dark eyes kind but intense. “You are not supposed to be here now,” he said, making me frown in confusion. “Your mission is not complete. You still have an important task to fulfill. Do you remember?”
A chill went through me. I gazed around the peaceful garden, trying to recall how I got here, and couldn’t. “I...don’t remember,” I stammered, feeling something hovering at the tip of my consciousness, just out of reach. “What do you mean, I’m not supposed to be here?”
Master Isao gave me another grave look, and pointed a long finger to something across the gardens.
I followed his hand, seeing the dark edges of a forest beyond the temple gate. Shadows cloaked the trees and undergrowth, and it seemed that where the temple grounds ended and the forest began, the sunlight simply stopped, as if it couldn’t penetrate any farther.
At Master Isao’s unspoken urging, I rose and walked halfway across the yard, peering into the darkness looming at the edge of the grounds. As I got closer, I could see a faint curtain of mist separating the temple from the forest, and for some reason, it caused goose bumps to scurry up my arms.
There was a figure sitting beneath a tree in the shadows of the forest, shoulders hunched, head bowed. He cradled a body in his lap, her skin as pale as rice paper, a bushy fox tail lying motionless on the ground.
The world seemed to pause, the air around me growing misty and surreal. In a daze, I turned back and found Master Isao sitting on the steps as before, his body hazy and transparent in the sunlight. He gave me a sad, gentle smile and shook his head.
“It is not time for you to cross the veil, Yumeko-chan,” Master Isao told me, his voice softer than the breeze overhead. “Soon, perhaps, we will see each other again. But not now. The fate of the world is balanced on the thinnest of threads, and the Dragon casts the whole kingdom in his shadow. Your part in the story is not yet finished. You must see it through to the end.” Master Isao gazed down at the wood in his hands and began carving again, splinters falling away into the dirt. “He is calling for you, Yumeko-chan,” he murmured. “Can’t you hear him? You don’t want to keep him waiting too long, or his soul might fall into darkness again. He needs your light to guide him to the other side.” Once more, his gaze rose to me, that faint, gentle smile crossing his face as he nodded. “Go now, little fox. You have people who need you in the living world. It is not your time.”
And before my eyes, Master Isao shivered into a glowing sphere of light, drifted up the steps of the temple and vanished through the doors. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I glanced back at the forest and felt a shiver run all the way to my toes.
A magnificent creature stood at the edge of the fog, watching me. It had the body of a deer, the face of a dragon, and a beautiful, terrible horn arching back from its forehead. I remembered the stories of such a creature, how it would appear to wise and benevolent rulers, how its arrival was seen as a sign of great change. As it seemed to be waiting for me, I walked across the temple yard until I stood before the sacred Kirin.
It cocked its head, regarding me with a thoughtful, almost puzzled look on its ageless face. It wasn’t much taller than me; we stood almost at eye level, but I felt I was gazing into the eyes of an ancient giant.
Daughter of the forest. There were no words, but I could feel the voice resonating inside me like the chime of a bell. You return at last.
I blinked, feeling that strange, surreal familiarity, as if this wasn’t the first time we had met. Though I thought I would certainly remember if I had ever glimpsed the great Kirin of legend. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, and it twitched its ears forward. “I don’t understand.”
No. The Kirin’s “voice” was gentle. You wouldn’t. Not yet. Its ox tail swished across its flanks, sending coils of mist writhing through the air. Evil comes to these islands, it went on, making me shiver. The night of the Wish is almost upon us, and your allies are few. Go to Shinsei Yaju, the City of Sacred Beasts. Seek out Tsuki Kiyomi; you will need her aid in the days to come.
“Tsuki Kiyomi,” I repeated. “Will she help us?”
The Kirin didn’t answer right away. It watched me a moment longer, then raised its head, ears swiveled, as if to catch a sound on the wind. Can you feel it? it whispered. Below this forest, a curse holds the land hostage with sadness and fear. It has affected everything it touches, including the hearts of those who rule. Tread carefully, little fox. The faces here are not as they seem, and the one who appears the most familiar could be the origin of all that is corrupt.
A chill traced my spine. I didn’t understand completely, but I knew what the Kirin spoke of—the terrible sadness that had seeped into the ground and hung in the air. Like a shadow that hovered over everything, or a wound that could never heal. “What happened here?” I asked. “Why does the forest feel so sad and angry? What is this curse?”
The Kirin did not answer. Turning, it raised its head and blew out a breath that filled the air with the sound of whispers. The veil of mist before us parted and rolled away before the sacred creature, and I could see the other side clearly.
The path is open. Follow me back to the living world, little soul. You are still needed here.
I looked back at the temple, but could no longer see it. Only a landscape of drifting fog, with ghostly balls of light floating in and out of the haze. Chilled, I turned away from the land of mist and followed the Kirin into the looming forest, the fog curling around me.
* * *
I opened my eyes, and the world was dark. I lay on my side on a bed of soft grass, the tips brushing my cheek as I stirred. Wincing, I sat up slowly, gazing around to see where I was.
A moonlit grove, silver and black, greeted me, and whispers tickled my ears as I looked around in wonder. I caught glimpses of kodama in the surrounding branches, their tiny bodies glowing an ethereal green in the darkness, and blips of light flickered in and out of the trees. It was an odd sensation, like I was perhaps still caught in a dream. My body felt strange and light, as if not completely real.
I gazed down, and my heart skipped a beat.
Tatsumi lay on his side next to me, one arm curled beneath his head, his eyes closed. He breathed slowly, his expression unguarded and peaceful, and my stomach gave a weird little twist. It was the first time I’d ever seen him asleep, truly asleep, not dozing with his back against a wall and a sword in his lap. Without even realizing it, I reached down and softly touched his forehead, brushing a strand of hair from his face.
At that tiny bit of contact, his eyes snapped open and he surged upright, making me jump. His eyes, glowing and terrible, fixed on me, before he blinked and they were normal again.
“Yumeko.”
“Gomen, Tatsumi,” I said quickly, as the demonslayer stared at me, eyes wide and a little glassy. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Well, I did, but not like this. Are you—”
I got no further. Tatsumi leaned forward, pressed a hand to the side of my face and kissed me. It was a hard, almost desperate kiss, filled with emotion and relief. I went rigid in shock, even as my entire soul leaped to meet him, bursting into blue-white flames that roared through every part of me.
Tatsumi pulled back, almost in surprise. Glancing at my face, his eyes clouded over, and he dropped his gaze. “Gomen,” he muttered, starting to draw away. “I shouldn’t have... Forgive me. I won’t...”
I reached out and touched his cheek, stopping him and bringing his attention back. Our gazes met
, and though crimson flames flickered in the depths of his eyes, his expression was dark with passion. This time, the kiss was gentle; Tatsumi let out a soft breath and pulled me close, sitting up and wrapping his arms around my waist. I closed my eyes and pressed myself into him, daring to slide my fingers through his thick hair, feeling the fires within settle into a bright, constant flame.
Tatsumi drew back, though only a breath separated us as he gazed up at me, his eyes shifting purple and red in turns. “I thought I lost you,” he whispered. “When the Kirin walked away, I thought...” A shiver went through him, and his thumb brushed gently against my cheek. “You are here, aren’t you, Yumeko?” he murmured, a faint shadow of uncertainty crossing his face. “This isn’t a dream, is it?”
I covered his hand with my own. “If it is, then we’re both dreaming.”
He smiled and leaned forward to kiss me again, but there was a shimmer from the corner of my eye, and when I turned, I saw a red fox sitting on a log a few yards away, watching us with glowing amber eyes. An exceptionally bushy tail was curled around its legs, and when it saw that I’d noticed, it rose, still staring at us, and hopped off the log. As it did, its tail seemed to split apart, becoming two bushy, white-tipped tails brushing its hindquarters, and my heart leaped. The kitsune took three steps toward the trees, then turned back to gaze at us again, twitching its tails impatiently. Obviously waiting for us.
Tatsumi, following my gaze, gave a rueful smile. “I guess we’re not welcome here anymore,” he murmured.
“Hai.” I nodded, reluctantly disentangling myself from the demonslayer. I wanted to stay in this peaceful, kami-filled forest awhile longer, to forget the outside world and the impossible odds stacked against us. But the dawn was waning, and time was running ever shorter. “I guess it’s time to go.”
* * *
We trailed the kitsune guide through the forest, following a path that only it knew, as the kodama watched us depart from the branches overhead. The kitsune moved swiftly, never pausing or looking back, its white-tipped tails bobbing through the darkness. Curiosity ate at me, a fire in my belly; I wanted to talk to the yokai, the first of my full-blooded kin I had seen, in the real world, anyway. And a kitsune with two tails, at that. I had so many questions, so many things about their world I wanted to know. But the kitsune didn’t stop, always keeping the same distance between us, seeming uninterested and unconcerned with the half blood following it.
The skies overhead were brightening, and a faint pink tint had crept over the horizon, when Tatsumi and I followed the fox out of the trees to stand at the edge of a small valley. A few yards away, the land sloped down into a grassy bowl surrounded by forest and trees on one side and a soaring range of mountains on the other, the jagged tips brushing the clouds.
The kitsune looked back with glowing yellow eyes, twitched its tails once and disappeared. Disappointment blossomed in my chest, but only for a moment, as I saw what lay beyond the edge of the rise.
My eyes widened. A great city sprawled within the confines of the valley, glittering like a carpet of fireflies in the shadow of the mountains. A wall surrounded it, but it seemed as if the forest had crawled into the valley and now shared the space with the rest of the city. Large ancient trees towered over the narrow streets, and many of the houses had been built around the trunks rather than disturb the giants. Colorful pagoda roofs swept toward the sky, bright bridges spanned the web of rivers and streams that cut through the valley, and a magnificent castle with white walls and a red roof sat surrounded by moats in the very center. At each corner of the valley, four huge statues towered over the city like immortal guardians: Kirin, Phoenix, Tiger and the Great Dragon himself.
Tatsumi’s gaze swept over the valley, taking everything in. “This must be Shinsei Yaju,” he murmured. “The capital city of the Moon Clan. We’ll have to be careful.”
“Because outsiders aren’t allowed to travel the island freely?” I guessed, and he nodded.
“They’ll be even more suspicious around the capital.” He nodded to the large red-and-white palace that sat in the center like a glistening jewel. “That’s the home of Tsuki Kiyomi, the daimyo of the Moon Clan.”
“Oh,” I gasped. “Tsuki Kiyomi! That’s who the Kirin told me to go see. It said Kiyomi-san could help us stop Genno.”
“The Kirin,” Tatsumi repeated. “It told you to speak to the Moon Clan daimyo?”
I nodded, and Tatsumi said nothing for a bit, observing the city and its people walking down the roads like ants. “I could sneak us in,” he finally responded. “Though that might not inspire a lot of confidence in the daimyo, if two strangers suddenly appear inside her palace without warning. And if we’re caught, they’ll probably try to kill us. Especially since...”
He trailed off, but I knew what worried him. Since he looked like a half-demon, or at least, not entirely human. “I think,” I began, “I’m going to have to go down there and ask to see the daimyo. The Kirin said we needed her aid. It wouldn’t send us here without cause, right?”
Tatsumi didn’t answer. I could feel his gaze on me, and reached for his hand. He hesitated, and then his fingers curled around mine. “I have to go,” I went on, “but you don’t need to come with me, Tatsumi. I’m sure you can use your shinobi magic and sneak into the city without being seen. We can meet up later when it’s safe.”
“No.” Tatsumi shook his head. “If the Kirin sent you here, there’s a reason for it. You need to speak to the daimyo, and I’m not leaving you alone.”
“But what if they try to kill you?”
Unexpectedly, one corner of his mouth turned up. “They might...if they see a demon,” he said, sounding strangely amused. “If only there was a way to disguise myself so that I looked like something else.”
“Oh.” Feeling foolish, I plucked a leaf from a nearby branch, then turned and scowled at the smirking demonslayer. “When did you learn sarcasm?” I asked. “Have you been listening to Okame-san? The Tatsumi I remember barely cracked a smile.”
“I’m not sure.” Abruptly serious, Tatsumi frowned, his eyes darkening. “I know I’m different now,” he admitted in a soft voice. “I remember the person I was when we first met and...that Tatsumi seems like a stranger.” He shook his head. “I don’t know if it’s Hakaimono’s influence, or even his memories of the dozens of demonslayers that came before me, but... I know I’m not the same. I don’t even know how much of the real Tatsumi is left.”
My heart twisted. Stepping close, I placed a palm against his cheek, feeling warmth spread through my fingers as he closed his eyes. “I like this Tatsumi,” I whispered.
A shiver went through him, and one hand rose, covering my own and sending tingles all the way down my arm. “I’m glad,” he murmured. “Because I have no idea what is happening to me.”
My heart raced. I wanted to kiss him, to run my fingers through his hair and feel his hands on my skin. I wanted to press myself close, burrow into him so that nothing separated us, and I was terrified that I felt this way.
Quickly, I pulled back and held the leaf up in two fingers. “Ready to go see the daimyo?”
“As long as you don’t turn me into a goat.” Tatsumi’s voice was wry. “Or the ronin.”
I bit my cheek at the thought of the demonslayer as a goat, then pressed the leaf to his forehead. Tatsumi didn’t move, closing his eyes as I drew on my magic. There was a soundless explosion of smoke, and when it cleared, the demonslayer stared back at me, now draped in black robes with a metal staff clutched in one hand. A wide-brimmed straw hat sat on his head, and his horns were nowhere to be seen.
Tatsumi gazed down at himself, then back up at me, raising a brow. “A priest?”
“Nobody questions priests,” I explained with a shrug. “Or shrine maidens. Have you ever noticed how Reika can go almost anywhere she wants, and no one gives her a second glance? Because she’s obviously doing the work of
the kami, and its bad luck to interfere in the way of the gods. That, and she gives them a terrible scolding if they question her.”
“I see.”
I cocked my head at him. “Do you not want to be a priest, Tatsumi-san? I could turn you into a shrine maiden instead.”
He winced. “This is fine.”
We found a path leading down the rise into the valley, and followed the narrow trail until the road widened and the gates of the city loomed before us. Unlike the Imperial capital of Kin Heigen Toshi, where lines formed outside the city gates to be allowed through, there was very little foot traffic on the road to and from the Tsuki capital; few travelers passed us, and the ones that did gave the barest of nods as they went by.
A pair of warriors in the black-and-silver colors of the Moon Clan guarded the gates of the city, their spears glinting in the evening light as they watched us approach. I had been hoping to blend in with other travelers going to the capital, but there were no crowds; Tatsumi and I were the only ones on the road.
“Halt.”
I stifled a wince as one samurai left his post, stepping in front of me to block the gates. He didn’t point his weapon at me, but his eyes were hard as they gave me a cursory glance before sweeping toward Tatsumi.
“More outsiders,” he said flatly, making my heart leap to my throat. “State your business here. Are you with the group that came through earlier?”
“A-another group?” I repeated as Tatsumi straightened beside me. My heart pounded, and I leaned forward hopefully. “Was there a Taiyo noble, a shrine maiden and a yojimbo?”
The samurai relaxed, though he looked more annoyed than relieved. He turned back to answer, but suddenly froze, a look of disbelief crossing his face as he stared at me. I held my breath, wondering if he had somehow seen my true self and knew I was kitsune.
“H-hai,” he finally whispered. “The group you described is already here, my lady. They are with the daimyo now.” Stepping back, he gave a quick bow, his eyes on the ground. “We will take you to the palace, please follow us.”