Yokai

Chapter 5: 

“Mitikori!” Yoshida shouted down the hill. The Ronshin stopped. Her voice sounded more worried than abashed. Perhaps ancient tree spirits could be jealous. Mitikori turned to wait for his scholar. Her wooden shoes clicked as she started down the incline. 

“Is something wrong–,” Mitikori called playfully. His flirting was stopped when a shrill cry came from the far side of the peak. Hikarimono snapped from her scabbard. 

“It’s not yokai, that was a human cry!” Yoshida called to the Ronshin. Mitikori tossed Kurohada up to the scholar. She fumbled the blade for a moment. 

“I was never taught to fight!” 

“Swing the sharp end at their head,” Mitikori instructed before rushing off to find the source of the cry. 

Hikarimomo gleamed low at the loss of her sister. Her usually white brilliance was more of a silver shimmer. Still, it meant a yokai was near. The hungering Hihiirokane-steel sought to find its next foe. The shouts had stopped. Meaning whoever Mitikori was following had become aware of his presence. The Ronshin slowed his breakneck pace. His steely eyes scanned the trees. The forest children were silent. Some blue light still emanated from under the large taro leaves. 

Mitikori heard the sound of Yoshida moving through the glade. She was swinging Kurohada like a scythe. The Ronshin cringed at each swoosh. He would have to cleanse the sister of darkness from her verdant torture. There was a loud crack. Mitikori spun, throwing a barbed kunai tail first at the noise. There was a thud. Fleshy. A chattering screech sent the few remaining kodama into hiding. Mitikori knew that shout. A sarugami. He shouldn’t have left Yoshida. 

Sarugami were ancient monkey gods. Forgotten or abandoned by their worshippers, the giant ape yokai sought attention no matter how they could get it. Usually by kidnapping a woman of importance. The scream from earlier did sound womanly enough, but this far in the north, Mitikori doubted the monkey yokai could get the attention it so desperately wanted. Mitikori collected his kunai from the forest floor. The thin red tail of the throwing knife was frayed from constant use. The front of the silver blade held a tuft of monkey fur as well as a little blood. He was lucky it had been a yokai. Usually, his warning throws were more precise. He slid the kunai away. When this was over, he would get new knives. 

The sarugami was fast. Mitikori followed the trail of cracked branches and fallen leaves. It knew it was being trailed, still it showed no signs of trying to hide its intentions. Mitikori leapt over a sunken log. The forest children were all gone. Perhaps this sarugami was more powerful than the Ronshin initially thought. Sometimes the little children would guide him on a hunt, but fear kept them away. The forest began to clear. Mitikori stopped at the very edge of the trees. A yokai village lay before him. Thatched roofs. Wooden huts. Sunken fire pits. All dismantled and slashed to pieces. Some great hurricane had come through this village. Mitikori crept out from the trees. The bodies were a few days old. A tanuki had been disemboweled. Kitsune were crushed under heavy logs. Blood had been left to rot. 

There was a noise to the south-east. Mitikori turned, Hikarimono at the ready. Yoshida broke through the verdant forest. She still held Kurohada like a machete above her head. Her eyes darkened at the sight of the bloodbath. The scholar slowly approached Mitikori. 

“What happened?” 

“The sarugami led me here.” Mitikori took the blade back from Yoshida. He rubbed it clean on his kimono sleeve by running the blade through the crux of his elbow. 

“An onikuma?” 

“Likely, I don’t know how the monkey is involved in all of this, though.” 

“Maybe our primate friend wants to defeat the great beast and claim a prize as the village hero, or he hopes that by bringing a sacrifice he can persuade the demon bear to not eat him?” 

“Perhaps,” Mitikori admitted. “In any case, he’ll need our help.” 

As the pair began to search the yokai village, the absolute destruction that took place began to cast an eerie silence on them. The air hung thick with blood. Mitikori couldn’t find a single soul that had been spared. Houses had been ransacked. Rocks and pebbles lay out on the dirt. The treasures of the kitsune and their bodies now lay destitute. Yoshida shivered despite the summer wind. The dark clouds were low. Salty moisture from the sea was the only reprieve. A dry, ominous storm was brewing. 

“I’ve never seen an onikuma leave bodies like this.” 

“Unless they angered it,” Mitikori offered. 

“You seem familiar with yokai being provoked into action. Do they all become deranged for revenge?” 

“In that regard, yokai are no different from humans. But yes, you are right, an onikuma would have likely at least eaten some of them.” The bodies had been shredded, not consumed. Not even the fat of the tanuki’s bellies had been touched, aside from to slash it in two. 

“Can I borrow your sword again?” Yoshida began to creep closer to Mitikori. 

“I need both if we are fighting some great yokai.” 

“You have three,” Yoshida reminded the Ronshin. Mitikori smiled. His third blade sat higher on his left hip. It was different from the two sisters. Their scabbards were black and smooth. Refined by master craftsmen to house blades of unequal power. The third, however, hadn’t even a crossguard. It was a plain wooden katana in an equally unremarkable scabbard. Only adorned by a perfectly white peace-binding that held it close by wrapping around the top of the hilt. 

“I’ve forgotten the knot on the peace-binding.” Yoshida raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the yokai hunter. “A kunai then?” The Ronshin happily obliged. He handed her one of his crimson wrapped knives. 

At the end of the village, Mitikori found the sarugami. It was large—about three shaku tall with a long whip-like tail. The monkey’s fur was a rustic brown. It wore clothes from the yokai village, a mix of dried leaves and silk. The yokai was prostrated low to the earth. Its trail pressed tightly against its buttocks in a fearful display. Before the sarugami, there was a great burnt pit. The earth had been upended by some great force. The edges of the pit were singed. Nearing the edge, Mitikori noted the saruagami had a hostage. Some black hat of a magistrate was poked out from the hole. 

“I’ll kill the monkey. You get whoever he’s got in the pit.”

“Why don’t you go in the pit?” Yoshida proposed. Mitikori couldn’t tell if she was making an attempt at a joke. 

“You want to fight the sarugami?” 

“No, but well, shouldn’t rescue be our first priority rather than killing?” 

“We can’t really rescue anyone if the monkey is still alive?” Her unexpected lack of planning shocked Mitikori. Still, Akiko was always better at studying than learning. Their argument had drawn the attention of the mountain yokai. Its maned face turned to the pair. Upon realizing it was humans that stood before it, the sarugami flew into a rage. Yellow eyes spread wide, and the great monkey bared its teeth. Mitikori drew the twin sisters in a hurry. The tall yokai let out a battle cry, then smacked the ground before charging. Its long arms and squatty legs carried it quickly towards the yokai hunter. Mitikori stepped between the charging monkey and Yoshida. The scholar clung tightly to the kunai in desperation. As the sarugami neared Mitikori watched its legs. They began to tighten. Preparing to leap. The Ronshin was still weighed down by his pack. That did mean he still had a few tricks on his back. 

Mitikori dove just as the sarugami leapt at him. Long clawed fingertips dug into the earth where the monster hunter had been just moments before. The sarugami was shocked and looked around for its foe. Mitikori kicked the side of its head with his sandal. The monkey immediately grabbed for him, tearing off a long piece of paper from his sleeve. Hibukami; fire paper. The long sheets immediately ignited, startling the mountain yokai. With the monkey distracted, Mitikori struck savagely with Hikarimono. A deep gouge. The sarugami limped back on its lanky forearms, yellowed teeth still bare. Mitikori unshouldered his pack in a hurry, making sure not to give the monkey a chance to strike. 

The sarugami didn’t wait long to retaliate against the vicious blow. It lunged again, long clawed fingers aimed at the Ronshin’s eyes. Mitikori faded back, flicking Kurohada into the monkey’s wrists. The fang was sharp, but Mitikori hadn’t gotten enough force into the blow to sever the hands. Just start the bleeding. Mitikori stepped back, one pace at a time. Realizing its injuries, the monkey swung again with the back of its arm. Mitikori couldn’t block the club-like strike. With no choice, the Ronshin gave up his position and jumped back. The monkey seemed to be possessed with a sudden rage. 

Spit and bile spilled from the sarugami’s mouth as it again tried to grab the yokai hunter’s face and chew out his eyes. Mitikori was once again forced to backstep. He was getting further and further from the pit. There was a chance the monkey would just bleed out, but Mitikori couldn’t risk Yoshida or whoever had been dumped in the pit. The sarugami shouted again. It jumped close, raining down a flurry of strikes. Mitikori parried the first arm with Hikarimono and when the second came, he stabbed the closed fist with Kurohada. The forward momentum ripped the dark blade from Mitikori’s hand. However, it had made its mark. The sarugami yelled and thrashed about, unable to use its left arm for movement. Not wasting the moment Mitikori lunged inside the monkey’s range. He swung upward with Hikarimono at the sarugami’s mouth. The monkey shouted in protest and brought its good fist around to jab the yokai hunter in the cheek. Mitikori had expected a repost. In his left, wrapped hand the Ronshin had prepared two firecrackers. When his underhand strike failed, Mitikori tossed the lights in front of the monkey’s eyes. The explosion blinded it. The monkey’s fist changed trajectory to protect its eyes, and Hikarimono plunged into the sarugami’s chest. Mitikori released the blade and let the yokai fall. It spasmed about furiously for a moment. High on the rage of its last moments. Then the thick blood began to pour. It didn’t take long for the yokai to still. 

Mitikori claimed his blades. He wiped them clean on his sleeve while walking over to the pit. The sarugami’s prey was wearing emerald robes. A fear began to set upon the Ronshin. Those weren’t just any robes. He crested the small ring of fire around the hole. There, still bound with cords, was Hiroshi, the firstborn son of Emperor Haruki Amagawa. Terror gripped Mitikori Kotoba’s heart.