Yokai

The ravens called and whirled above the small campfire. Masamune had collected Sora from a distant pasture and brought her back. The horses bayed and stamped at the small rope lead that kept them stuck to an overturned log. Miko pecked at the imperial rations Masamune had supplied. The dry meat didn’t seem to be her preferred diet. 

It was dark now. While the heat had stuck around, the light had not. Only a meager fire illuminated the otherwise moonless night. Yoshida went about preparing the tents for the weary travelers. The smell of tea did little against the blooming scent of wheat. 

“The smoke blocks their sight,” Miko commented as she ripped off another piece of dried beef. 

“It also keeps away bears,” Mitikori countered. Miko blinked at the dancing flames. 

“A Ronshin fears bears?” 

“Just because I hunt yokai doesn’t mean a bear won’t still maul us while we sleep.” 

“Bears are far more crass and senseless than most yokai. I assumed they would make for easy quarries.” 

“An unkept blade is far more dangerous to wield than a sharp one,” Mitikori recited his master’s old adage. 

“But you do not wield bears? Nor yokai for that matter?” 

“I suppose you’re right,” Mitikori laughed. Miko ate some more meat with a puzzled look. “You’re working with humans again?” 

“I took what you said last time to heart. My sisters wouldn’t want me to hide in the woods.” Mitikori scowled. 

“I may need to resend my previous advice.” 

“Your eyes speak of trouble. What is happening in the wide world?” 

“The emperor believes a yokai from lands afar will rip Tokiwa apart.” 

“The Drown King is hardly a contender for fighting. He is old and rotting.” 

“Amagawa doesn’t want him. He wants Ryūakuryō.” 

“I gave up trying to understand the rulers long ago, my commanders commended me on surviving such a brutal attack. They offered me status and marriage, but none of it could bring back what I had lost.” 

“Ironically, that is exactly what they offered me,” Mitikori admitted. 

“I suppose rulers come and go, but their methods remain.” There was a short pause as Miko watched her birds far above. “Is that what happened to the Ronshin?” 

“No, they faded like a childhood cloak. When they were of no more use, the threadbare cloth was tossed away.” 

“It’s a sad story, Ronshin. A raven without its flock won’t survive long.” Mitikori joined the shaman, staring at the circling black wings. 

“Then it’s good I’m a Ronshin, not a raven.” 

“I wish you a long life and a happy flock.” Miko laid her head gently on Mitikori’s shoulder. Loosening his kimono, the Ronshin stretched his now free arm around Miko’s exposed shoulders. She seemed completely unbothered by the heat of the day or the winds of the night. 

Yoshida returned from her preparations. She took one glance at Mitikori before sitting down. 

“You like birds?” 

“More than the emperor’s lap dogs.” Yoshida let out a long, exasperated sigh. 

“Why do you distrust the Tenshi so much? In all my records, I have only ever seen him try to do good for you or make sure you and the Ronshin were left alone.” 

“Guilt affects everyone, even the great Tenshi.” 

“The emperor is guided by his ancestral spirits; he cannot make a mistake,” Masamune countered, “And if you, a yokai hunter, somehow don’t believe in ghosts, then his advisors would take the blame for any mistake.” 

“You have a surprisingly clear understanding of royal politics,” Mitikori admitted. “Amagawa’s debt is not as an emperor but as a brother.” Silence gathered around the dwindling fire. Masamune stood, 

“I’ll take first watch.” 

“Get some sleep. You’ve burned enough farmlands for one day,” Mitikori instructed. Masamune once again placed his fist to his chest and walked back to the improvised stable. 

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Yoshida spoke with disdain dripping from her voice. “I don’t intend to be your seconds.” The scholar left with a short bow to her books and much thicker, canvas tent. Mitikori leaned back, watching the stars far above. 

“They rest?” Miko spoke with her eyes still closed. 

“Yoshida-san will. Masa-kun will stay vigilant through the night.” 

“Will they resent our departure?” 

“As long as we come back before dawn, Masa-kun won’t say anything.” Miko smiled pleasantly while leaning into Mitikori’s arm. 

“You smell like dirt.” She finally opened her eyes. 

“I don’t get much chance to bathe out here…” 

“It’s a good smell. The forest children’s scent still lingers on your clothes. The rest of you could certainly use a bath.” 

“Do you know any good spots?” 

Karasu no Miko knew of a very good spot. The shaman led Mitikori to a hidden glade among the hilly fields. The ground sloped down steadily for some time before they broke through the trees to a vast expanse of water. The shimmering lake was perfectly blue. Fireflies danced about above the gently lulling water. Mitikori was lost in the charm for a moment before he realized his guide was gone. The Ronshin did a short circle, but Miko was nowhere to be found. That is until Mitikori heard a gentle whistling from the water. Free of her armor, Miko swam a short loop in the almost-glowing blue water. Her headdress was all she had left on. Smiling cutely, she continued to whistle a gentle call. Mitikori knelt by the waterside. He splashed some of his face, washing the sweat away. 

“Southern Mami.” Mitikori recognized the tune. “A mating call,” He chuckled. Happy with herself, Miko began humming another call. Mitikori took Hikarimono out of his obi first. He placed the sword on a shin-high rock. Next came Kurohada. She was already stained green, best not to mix more colors. Last was Eien no Kazoku. The simple wooden scabbard rolled a bit without a hilt-guard. Finally, Mitikori recognized the call. “Tancho. I only know it from the palace.” 

“They are a rare sight indeed.” Miko waved playfully from the lake. She continued to swim in small circles through the blue water. “If I’m not mistaken, it is also a mating call.” 

“You are correct,” Miko praised the yokai hunter. Miko began to drift out further into the large lake. Mitikori slid off his kimono. The wraps on his arms were no longer enough to hide the black and red tattoos that ran all over his torso. Drawings of monsters, of billowing smoke, and at the center of his chest, the two dragon-like Ronshin. Mitikori untied the wraps on his arms, revealing more drawings. Miko watched, patiently observing his forearms. 

After undressing, Mitikori waded out into the foggy blue waters. Miko gently floated about five shaku away from him. She began another call. But this time, Mitikori called back. Blush once again spread across her cheeks. Mitikori reached the end of where he could stand and began to swim slowly out into the waters. Miko closed the distance between them and took his hand. 

“I didn’t know ravens were fond of water?” 

“Even birds love a good bath.” Miko led the Ronshin to a small landing in the middle of the lake, the bronze roof of the Mizugahama pagoda. 

“Long ago, the village of Mizugahama lived in harmony. It was managed by a wise and caring man. His village blossomed and grew so he built a shrine to honor the kami who helped him. Seeing his kind heart, the Kirin of Mizugahama rose from the blue waters and was said to walk with him. Though he only wished for help his people, some believed his connection to the kami was a work of witchcraft. The people of Mizugahama drowned both the ruler and the Kirin. What they didn’t know was the village floating above a great submerged lake. When the ruler drowned, the Kirin was so distraught, he drowned the village with him. Since he used his great power to punish humans rather than help them, the rulers of the ocean banished the Kirin here to his lake.” 

“And so he remains to this day. Sunken with the wreck of his once great city,” Mitikori finished the legend. Miko rose from the lake, shimmering blue water dripping off her toned body. She peeked back to make sure Mitikori was watching. Content with his attention, Miko sat back on the green tiles. Light shone from under the water, sending a blue aura around the pagoda. 

“How do you plan to reach him beneath the waves?” 

“The ruler left a key, if anyone was willing to find it.” 

“You have it?” 

“We Ronshin are fond of keeping shiny things, not unlike ravens. And what about you, Miko? Does the shaman also love glittering stones?” 

“This raven loves old Ronshins that keep them.” 

It would be dawn soon. Mitikori carried the still sleeping Miko back to camp. She was burrowed calmly into the blanket Mitikori had made sure to bring. Light began to break through the foggy hills. The smoldering farm would be dealt with soon. Masamune was waiting as Mitikori placed Miko gently in his tent. He said nothing but watched from his post at the fire. After making Miko comfortable, Mitikori wandered over to the long-dead fire. Masamune didn’t budge as Mitikori tried to find room to sit. Unwilling to start a fight, Mitikori elected to stand. The two remained in stoic silence as the luminous yellow sun rose upon the boundless hills of Mizugahama. Fog began to dissipate, and colors spread through the green leaves. It was a gorgeous sunrise. With no one to appreciate it. 

After about forty minutes, Yoshida emerged from her tent. She had tied her hair back neatly, but she could do nothing about her bleary eyes. With a short, stately yawn, Yoshida started preparing the morning’s tea. Masamune chewed on the rations. And Mitikori got some sleep. 

The group followed Miko’s column of ravens in the early morning sun. They led the group back to the lake. The scenery was much less enchanting in the daylight. The blue water seemed to only reflect the overbearing sunlight above. It was a bit easier to make out the large structures now flooded under the water. 

“This is Mizugahama?” Yoshida looked at the blue waters. “The blue looks like quartz!” 

“Where is the yokai we seek?” Masamune questioned. 

“Under.” Mitikori pointed one finger at the gently lapping water. 

“We can swim it?” Masamune seemed doubtful. 

“The slumbering Kirin must have some way to reach it,” Yoshida tried. “You’ve seen it before, haven’t you, Mitikori-san?” 

“There is only one way down.” Mitikori drew a perfectly blue stone held up by a silver string from his kimono. “With this drop of dew, a bond you made. And now from rain, a bond I break.” As the last syllable left his mouth, Mitikori watched the gem shatter like glass. He closed his eyes, feeling the magic work around him. The morning heat stopped. The call of the birds quieted. Silence. Mitikori opened his sleep-stained eyes. The sunken city. 

The realm of the sunken city was a dark one. Dark waters spread around a bubble that encompassed the city. The lake floor was damp. Old buildings jutted from the clay. Some under the water, some inside the bubble. Mitikori stepped forward, breaking the eerie silence. From the muddy depths, a Kirin appeared. The old, moose-like yokai was strained. Its old bones broke from derelict skin. Once great antlers were now stained and shattered. Gaunt ribs hung open and exposed. Despite its decay, light still emitted from the great yokai’s horns. Its long mane was still a sapphire shade of blue. 

“You have returned,” the voice spoke in Mitikori’s mind as the antlers of the great beast flashed with light. 

“I seek a dragon long dead,” Mitikori explained. 

“You do not,” The Kirin corrected him, “You seek to save yourself.” Mitikori bowed in respect. 

“You are correct. I have no choice; the emperor commands me.” The great Kirin stumbled out from its grave. 

“What will happen once Amagawa has his immortality?” 

“He will survive a powerful yokai from the west.” 

“And what of the others? Will you make them immortal?” Mitikori shifted uncomfortably. 

“Amagawa-sama will stop the yokai.” 

“Do you believe this, Kotoba?” The Kirin stared with unblinking eyes at Mitikori. The Ronshin sighed, 

“I don’t know. Amagawa-sama has made up his mind.” 

“And you believe Amagawa more congenial than the yokai? A man you know has betrayed you, or a beast you have never met.” 

“The yokai killed Hiroshi-kun.” 

“A son? Has not the emperor sent countless sons to their deaths?” 

“Not without his reasons.” 

“Have we not considered the yokai’s reasons?” 

“I never got the chance. Amagawa-sama wouldn’t listen to reason.” 

“And thus the truth comes forth. You do not trust the emperor. You never have. You took this choice of action because you fear the knife at your neck more than the sword you would create for others.” 

“It is either that or death,” Mitikori admitted. 

“Not death, but a sacrifice. Standing against the power-hungry even till death is hardly a terrible fate.” As the Kirin spoke, its light began to fade. “You are a dear friend, Kotoba. I will do this kindness, but remember not to fear the end. So long as it is honorable and noble, a story should have as noble an end as it was lived.” With his final words, the Kirin collapsed. The weight of its antlers brought its long face to the floor. A thin glowing liquid pooled from its mouth. Mitikori knelt before the great yokai. He laid himself prostrate before the Drowned King. After a prayer, Mitikori took a small glass vial of the blood. He capped it with cured leather and stood with a bow. The bubble was shrinking. Waves began to crash into the lake bed. For a moment, as Mitikori watched his friend, the Ronshin considered staying under the waves. But as the waters closed in, so too did the fear of drowning. 

Water. Heavy waves surrounded Mitikori. The turbulent lake threatened to pull him down into the mud. Mitikori locked his eyes on the bubbles as water crashed in. Following them up was his only way out. The Ronshin took a deep breath of the wet air. Then the clap of water hit him. 

For a moment, Mitikori lost his balance. The water swirled around him, blinding the Ronshin. His eyes went wide, trying to find any semblance of light. The air bubbles began to rise around him. Mitikori kicked swiftly with his sandaled feet toward the darkness. He had no way of knowing where he was going. Just a prayer that the bubbles led up. The water was still visceral with currents. The wraps on his arms began to weigh him down. He should have left his blades topside. Mitikori felt his heartbeat begin to surge. There was no air. No air. His lungs burned for a breath. Instinct told him to just open his mouth. He needed air; surely some would be there. Bubbles from his mouth burst out as Mitikori opened his mouth to release his breath. Without air in his lungs, his full weight began to sink. The Ronshin kicked and spasmed. Light. He could see sunlight through the blue water. Feeling a renewed sense of vigor, Mitikori lunged for a light with all his power. It wasn’t close enough. His lungs were burning. There was no air. Mitikori just couldn’t reach the elusive surface. Then, something broke the waters. Mitikori felt himself being lifted up from the lake. 

Miko pushed his head onto the grassy shoreline. It was all she could get out of the water. She quickly scampered to the shore and began to haul the rest of the Ronshin out of the lake. Mitikori coughed and sputtered for air. His fingers dug into the loamy soil, trying to pull himself further from the all encompassing water. 

“Rest, Ronshin. You are safe now.” Miko’s calming voice helped to ease his jagged heartbeat. As he laid his head against the soil, his heartbeat slowed. Fear gave way to disappointment. Mitikori rolled onto his back. Water still flowed from his mouth. His brown eyes fell upon Miko as she checked him over. Seeing his gaze, Miko smiled nervously. 

“Did the meeting go poorly?” His lungs were too full to respond, so Mitikori just held up the vial of blood. Miko took it carefully. “What happened to the Kirin?” Mitikori just shook his head. Miko sat down next to the Ronshin. She brushed some of his wet hair aside. Kissing the side of his forehead. Mitikori smiled gently. Finally, his trembling lungs pulled in enough air. 

“You trust the town, Miko-san?” 

“The farmers are pleasant. They don’t resent me or hunt my flock.” 

“Will they keep you safe?” Miko sensed the gravity of Mitikori’s tone. She nodded, running the back of her hand against the Ronshin’s face. 

“Then give them this.” Mitikori handed off the smooth ruby. Miko’s eyes glittered in response to the beautiful gem, but then they clouded. 

“Why are you giving me this?” 

“This will ensure the village can survive the winter without crops.” 

“This is precious to you. I have seen you carry it for as long as I’ve known you.” 

“It was a gift from my master. He would have wanted it to be more than a paperweight in my pack.” Miko wrapped her arms around the gem. She kept it close against her chest. 

“I will honor this gift. Will you not come to deliver it with me?” 

“I have debts to pay before I can live in peace,” Mitkori said, standing. Water dripped off him onto the soft bank. All around, the silent soldiers of the emperor stood in waiting. Miko drew her naginata in defense. Mitikori just sighed as the wall of armored soldiers parted and the Tenshi appeared.