Translation: all chapters
Prologue: Dearly-Awaited at the River-Edge
They met for the first time at the edge of the Kamo River
, beneath the Great Four-Arched Bridge.
Injured in a battle against Heian Era-onryou causing unrest in the capital, she had hidden herself among the tall reeds along the river—to find the spot already occupied.
He’d been standing on the riverbank that early morning with birdfeed in hand, calling to the waterfowl. The birds had gathered around him with bold familiarity, demanding food.
What a strange man.
He seemed almost to be conversing with them. To her, worn and battered as she was from battling people long dead, he might as well have stepped out of another world.
She listened to the quiet song of the river.
Its current sparkled with morning sunlight. Birds circled in the pale mist, flocking to the man on the bank to exchange gentle greetings. He was so very beautiful... Her eyes brimmed with tears.
“You’re...what is wrong?”
She was stunned to be discovered. Noticing the seriousness of her wounds, the man immediately tore a strip from the sleeve of his kimono and deftly stopped her bleeding. Then he picked her up and carried her home without even a “by your leave.”
“I will tend to this now. Bear with me but a little longer.”
The man was a doctor. He had studied Dutch medical science in Nagasaki, and practiced Western medicine. His clinic was also his home, where he treated her injuries with surprising skill.
“It’s all right now,” he told her, smiling softly. “But you should rest and heal for a little while. Where is your home?”
Haruie shook her head on the pillow. She didn’t have a home. She had abandoned her kin and lived as a traveling samisen player, earning enough to keep body and soul together while performing her covert onryou extermination duties.
It had never been her intention to be reborn into a female body, having done so with reluctance after losing her body in the midst of battle. She’d had her fill of the absurd egotism of men since then—not that she wanted to reflect on what she’d been like as one of them. “Wild” would have been an apt description. Never knowing how much time she would have, her only concern had been to extract the maximum possible pleasure out of her life. She knew precisely how men viewed women, because she’d been one herself. So it had been simple for her to lead them about by their noses.
Shintarou didn’t ask any more questions.
“You can stay here until you’re healed, if you like. For as long as you wish,” he invited. Haruie viewed the offer with mistrust, suspecting ulterior motives, but Shintarou only smiled quietly and left the room.
He proved himself an honest doctor.
As she slowly healed, Haruie could get out of bed for small stretches to help. Before she knew it she had become his assistant, receiving and looking after patients.
Walking to Kamo River in the early morning to feed the birds was part of Shintarou’s routine.
“I’ve liked birds since I was a boy,” he explained. “I used to think that when I grew up, I would become one myself. So I share a bit of my food with them.”
Shintarou had come from Touhoku’s poor. His talents had been noticed by the chief priest of their parish temple, an interesting man who had once been an elite monk cadet at Mt. Hiei. Having grown skeptical and jaded of his training there, he had made his way to rustic Mutsu. It was a region with very few doctors. This priest recommended Shintarou to the province’s chief vassals, whose special support secured approval for him to study Dutch medicine, the most advanced medical science known, in faraway Nagasaki, that he might serve as a provincial government doctor.
While feeding the birds at Kamo River, Shintarou often mused, “I never really wanted to be a government doctor, though. I want to return to my village and be a country doctor. Follow in the footsteps of my teacher the monk. My village is so poor, it could never even dream of having its own doctor.”
Crouched by his side, a strange feeling swept through Haruie as she stared at Shintarou’s profile.
Here was a man—this amazing man—working to keep the living alive. She, on the other hand, fought the dead. What kind of miserable life was that?
“Won’t you come with me, Otsuta?” Shintarou suddenly asked one morning, there beside the misty river. “My studies here in the capital will be over in two years. Come home with me. You don’t have a destination in mind anyway, right?” Shintarou must have known how weary she was of wandering. “Be my assistant, Otsuta.”
The birds took flight.
It was winter, seven months after she had met Shintarou.
Haruie wavered, troubled.
She didn’t dislike Shintarou.
Yet, afraid of revealing her true identity to him, she didn’t give him an answer immediately.
That was when onryou began disrupting the capital once more.
Kagetora and the others came rushing to her aid, but they were unable to completely contain the chaos and violence, or to prevent scores of people from getting hurt. Exorcisms kept Haruie busy, and she fought the onryou with a resolution to abandon her body if need be.
She had left Shintarou without a word, and thought that that was the end of it. But Shintarou wouldn’t let it go; he searched for her high and low, until finally he got caught up in one of her battles.
The onryou was particularly vicious, and it tore off Shintarou’s right arm as he attempted to protect her. Because of her, Shintarou lost his precious dominant hand.
Though she exorcised the onryou, and Shintarou’s life was saved, she could not give Shintarou’s arm back to him. She wept at his bedside for three days and three nights.
She begged forgiveness for that which she could not recover.
But Shintarou smiled and told the grieving Haruie, “Do not blame yourself. My arm was a cheap price to pay for your life. But if you feel you must atone, would you consider taking its place?” Surprised, Haruie raised her head. “Be my right hand. Stay with me for now and always... I have no regrets, if it means having you by my side.”
That was when Haruie finally knew how deeply she was in love with this man, and why the loss of his arm hurt and grieved her more than if it had been her own.
She could not seem to stop crying. “I want to be with you forever.”
His chest was warm.
Kagetora, for reasons unknown, allowed her to leave the Yasha-shuu. She would throw away her Uesugi name and live the rest of her life as an ordinary woman. And if that life were to be her last, she wouldn’t mind. She was stunned when Kagetora granted her request. But Kagetora himself was exhausted after two hundred years. The onryou of the Sengoku were, on the whole, pacified. In recent years they had concentrated their efforts on extermination of other spirits.
“If that is what you want, then go. I will take all responsibility for this decision,” Kagetora said, looking at her with abiding affection. “Don’t think about anything else, only live as you want to live. I am grateful for your long service. Thank you...” He took Haruie’s slim hand gently in his. “This is likely the last time we will see each other.”
They had both thought that this would be their final parting—that this was the end. After two hundred long years... Haruie was overwhelmed with happiness at the thought of being able to spend her final decades with the one she loved above any other. She would never love anyone else as she loved him.
“The magnolias near my home are so beautiful this time of year.”
Shintarou liked to share stories of his village with her, his eyes sparkling like a child’s when he spoke of the changing seasons there. Haruie loved those eyes. With her devotion and support, the one-handed doctor could help even more people than he could before.
“One day soon I’ll be able to show them to you,” Shintarou murmured as they fed the water fowl at the edge of Kamo River on one of their daily walks.
But he never did. The following year, a month before they would have made that trip back to his village of the lily magnolias, an epidemic ravaged the capital. Shintarou himself was infected while treating his patients, and, on a spring day, weakened beyond help, he died.
“A doctor who can’t even save himself...!” Haruie wailed as Shintarou faded before her eyes.
“Don’t cry, Tsuta.”
“Would you leave me? I’m your right hand! I’m a part of you! If you die I’ll die too!”
“You can’t die.”
“Don’t leave me here!” Haruie sobbed, and Shintarou wiped away her tears with fingers thin as bone.
“You will not be alone. I swear to you.” He painfully drew breath through parched lips before continuing, “I am not going to die. I won’t die. But even if I do, you won’t be alone. I’ll find you again in my next life.”
“Wait for me, Tsuta. You’ll be my right arm again.”
“I promise you.”
“Believe in me.”
His final words.
It would soon be the two hundredth winter since he had made his promise to her.
And Shintarou had not come to find her.
Chapter 1: The North Wind and the City
The trees along Midou-suji were almost bare of leaves already.
Due to an overturned truck near the Amagasaki East Interchange , his company car was more than thirty minutes late by the time it arrived at his home in Ashiya to pick him up.
“Looks like another bad traffic day,” his driver muttered at the Yodoya Bridge crossing, staring at the back of the car in front of them. Speaking of which, this was a gotoobi Friday in Osaka. Congestion was to be expected.
His driver slid the pearl-white Crown to a stop in front of the private entrance of a bright glass-sided building ten stories tall. Hazama Shigeharu, the man sitting in the rear, had spent the trip gazing out at the trees flowing past along Midou-suji while sunken deep in his own thoughts. He finally stirred as they arrived at company headquarters.
An employee dressed in a blue business suit was awaiting his arrival. He rushed over to open the car door before the driver could step out. “Good morning, Director,” the man, apparently a secretary, stepped gracefully back and bowed before hurriedly continuing, “They’ve been waiting for ten minutes. Please hurry.”
“They’re here already? We were scheduled for half-past.”
“Saitou-san is here with a delegation from Sankou Foods. He seems determined to conclude negotiations for the factory as previously discussed, so please prepare yourself for things to get as complicated as last time. You have a tight schedule today, so please stay within the time constraints as much as possible.”
“Very well,” Hazama responded, heading for the elevators. He acknowledged the female receptionist’s greeting before adding to the tall secretary following half a step behind him, “I’m sorry for keeping you so late yesterday. Miyata and his lot have royally messed things up, haven’t they? I’ve been monopolizing too much of your time.”
“Not at all. I believe I got up this morning shortly after you arrived home. You might have had a little too much to drink last night; are you feeling all right?”
Rubbing his angular chin, Hazama chuckled. “When your company’s fighting for its life, isn’t getting drunk the expected thing to do?”
In truth, he did look like he’d been on something of a two-day bender, and the fact that he hadn’t completed his morning routine contributed to that impression. The traffic certainly hadn’t helped his frustration, but he felt at least somewhat refreshed after making some calls via the car phone.
His young secretary of twenty-seven or twenty-eight opened his black leather notebook and gave him the full schedule as they headed down a corridor striped by rays of weak winter sunlight. The list was methodical, flawless.
This secretary’s name was Tachibana Yoshiaki. He had wise, double-lidded eyes in an intelligent and handsome face and a serenity of bearing that set him apart from his colleagues of the same age-group. Though he’d actually started working for Hazama less than a week ago, they synchronized so well that Hazama felt as if they had been working together for ten years, and he already found it difficult to imagine doing without him. Either they were just a natural fit, or Tachibana possessed the ability to mold himself gracefully to another’s style. He’d had several secretaries in his time, but never one that he felt understood him so well.
“For dinner, I‘ve accepted an invitation for you with Nikkou Industries’ Managing Director Asada and his wife at the Royal Hotel in Nakanoshima . And that’s the last item for today. ...? Is something the matter?” Tachibana inquired, catching his gaze.
Hazama clapped Tachibana on the back, chuckling. “Not at all. I’m glad dinner will be traditional Japanese. I’ve had enough of drinking for a while.”
“Yes; if it goes on for much longer, your health may be jeopardized.”
“‘Lay off the booze,’ in other words? Geez, you nag worse than my wife.”
“You yourself have said that this is a crucial juncture for the company. Your health concerns more than just yourself.”
The elevator arrived at the tenth floor. The receptionist there stood and bowed: “good morning” as they alighted. This entire floor was reserved for the offices of the president and his staff. The eight of them stood and greeted him as they entered. They passed through the beige-carpeted room to the presidential office within.
“...Humph. You’ve been here less than a week, and already you’re talking like a company man.”
“I may have been here a week, but not as a replacement for your employees.”
“Nobody else here has the nerve to berate me like you do,” Hazama returned, not looking at all put out. “Eh, it’s not like you’d have to worry about your livelihood even if I did fire you for offending me.” Hazama turned and peered up into Tachibana’s face as they reached the presidential office. “I’ve kept your charm close. Those strange dreams have stopped, just like that. I don’t know which temple it’s from, but it works pretty damn well. Guess this is what you’d call magic.”
“So you’ve experienced nothing out of the ordinary since then?”
“Getting a bodyguard was a bit of an overkill, but I’ll have to increase Okumura’s salary or give him a bonus for referring you.”
“Not with the company’s money.”
“Of course,” Hazama answered, and turned the door knob. “Could you let them know I’ll need a summary of the accounting for the first half of the year with our overdue accounts? I’ll take a look once I’m done here.”
“Certainly,” Tachibana bowed, and Hazama went in, closing the door behind him.
It had been a week since Tachibana Yoshiaki—AKA Naoe Nobutsuna—started working for Hazama Shigeharu, president of Hazama Confectionery, as his secretary. From the outside, he appeared to be familiarizing himself with the company and fitting himself well into its staff, though neither Hazama nor Okumura, the friend who had referred him, had expected him to do so splendidly in that role. Strictly speaking, he was Hazama’s ‘advisor’ cum ‘bodyguard.’ But to have him be known as such would have unnecessarily alarmed both employees and clients, something which a company already in a downturn due to the recession following the collapse of the bubble economy and operating in a bear market could ill afford.
Hazama Confectionery owned three branch offices and ten factories nationwide, and was one of the mainstays of the confectionery business. Hazama’s grandfather had established the first shop in Osaka around fifty years ago to produce traditional Japanese confectionery. Their operations had been greatly enlarged in Shigeharu’s generation with snacks for children, and now produced soft drinks and flavorings in addition to confectionery. During the bubble they had made the mistake of attempting to expand into cosmetics; with the collapse of the economy, its failure had rebounded on the core confectionery business with heavy losses, with management bearing the brunt of the blame. The ensuing litigation and conflict with regional trade from the associated patent design applications had put CEO Hazama under a great deal of stress.
Naturally, this sense of crisis had permeated throughout the company. As a result its employees had become oversensitive to even trivial changes in the business world as well as every word and action of managers and company executives.
In that atmosphere, who knows what rumors would arise if the CEO were suddenly seen with a new bodyguard. It was with such concerns in mind that they had improvised their cover story (to the other employees, he was a secretary Hazama had pulled out of the general affairs section of the Sapporo branch office), though without knowing how well Tachibana would handle the job. Yet even without previous experience with company culture he had quickly adapted.
Tachibana turned from the closed door to the larger room. It was off-white, with several office automation machines in a row and employees occupied with their own tasks. One of them, a man in a white business shirt with a desk near the window typing out a speech for Hazama on his computer, commented: “Looks like he made it in time after all.”
This man was his friend Okumura. Tachibana set his files down on a desk and approached. “There appeared to have been an accident at Amagasaki. He was caught in a huge traffic jam.”
“Good thing he always leaves thirty minutes early when he has an appointment. Our guests today tend to be finicky about punctuality, and I’m guessing there would’ve been quite the fuss if he’d been late,” Okumura grinned at Tachibana. “Anyway, seems like you’re settling in nicely... You even have more of a knack than me for looking after him. Have you worked as a secretary before or something?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Quit your monk job and keep this one. I’ll put in a good word for you.”
Okumura and Tachibana had become friends in high school, having both come from families running temples. He had studied Buddhism in college to obtain his monk’s license, but after graduation had turned company man instead.
“This is a side of you I haven’t seen—I mean, I had no idea you had such talents. ’Cause you’ve always been one of those guys who never concerned himself with what other people were doing,” Okumura remarked, stroking his long, narrow chin, before taking off his glasses and spraying it with cleaner.
“Well, I do apologize for showing you an unexpected side of me.”
“The president’s personal secretary is like his work wife—for you that’s reaching pretty far! To see you suddenly so devoted and hard-working, I gotta say—wow, well done.”
“I have a feeling I’m being damned with faint praise.”
“Eh, this job isn’t for somebody who craves the limelight. Seems an unexpectedly perfect fit for you, since I’ve never known you to chase after women or money. So how many of the fairer sex have you left in tears because you refused to get attached?”
“...Okumura.”
“Oh, but you fall for bad girls, don’t you? I bet you’re the type who gets strung along until your wallet’s empty and you’re in pieces, huh?”
Noticing Head Secretary Kawada glance at them, Tachibana cleared his throat. Okumura calmly sat back in his chair and looked up at Tachibana like a mischievous child. “Why don’t you give me the final report at lunch time?”
The secretaries took lunch in three shifts. The two friends headed down to the basement cafeteria for their lunch break together.
“Urgh. This sucks,” Okumura sighed into his bowl of tempura buckwheat noodles. He rested his chin in his hands and gave Tachibana a bitter look as he sat down facing Okumura.
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?? Have you even noticed our female colleagues? I knew it!”
“?”
“Just look at their heated gazes. I’m only here to be your wingman, aren’t I?” Okumura pointed behind them, and when he turned, several young women gathered near the entrance started chattering to each other. They had apparently descended on the cafeteria en masse during their lunch breaks to see the ‘gorgeous new secretary,’ current star of the grapevine, for themselves. This was why Okumura was sulking.
“You stand out too much. You know what they say about you?”
“What do they say about me?”
“That you’re the young (bachelor) rockstar from the Sapporo office who’s earned the respect of even our trade partners’ top management. That you’re Management’s Messiah, the star of hope chosen by our president to be his right hand. That you wear dashing Giorgio Armani suits, use Egoist cologne, wear a Rolex watch, and drive a re-imported Lexus. That you’re a thoroughbred from a family of businessmen. You went to Harvard, apparently, after graduating from Hitotsubashi University. They even know where your apartment is, your list of hook-ups, what brand of underwear you wear. They’ve made up a whole personal history for you, you know.”
Tachibana groaned with forehead in hand. “I’m not taking responsibility for any of that.”
“Well...now that I think about it, I guess it’s not that much fun,” Okumura conceded sympathetically. He lowered his voice. “So? How’s it going, really? Have you solved the mystery of the ‘princess’ ghost’ yet?”
“Not yet,” Tachibana’s expression grew more serious. "I‘ve been here for a week, but I haven’t been able to confirm the existence of a spirit as described by the Director. I’m beginning to think it’s not an actual ghost. He said that he saw it in a dream—so maybe it was ’astral projection’ instead.
“Astral projection? What’s that?”
“Using thought-projection to appear before the person you wish to contact. When done by the living, the projection becomes their doppelgänger. He described a ‘princess from the old days,’ though, so I don’t know... I need to figure out if that guise is an affectation, or if we’re talking about a real ‘princess.’”
"How could it be ‘real?’’
“Well...it could be the spirit of someone who died a long time ago trying to contact him from far away. In that case, the source of the astral projection would be a ghost instead of anyone living.”
“So it might be...a ghost projecting its thoughts so it can appear before the Director?” Okumura’s face stiffened. “Why would it do that? What could it hope to accomplish? Come on, a ‘princess from the old days?’ Like in one of those historical dramas, with black hair this long, and a button mouth, and a calabash-shaped face. I mean, what the heck?”
“...Sssh, not so loud,” Tachibana shushed him with an upraised finger as Okumura steadily gained volume. “I don’t know yet. It could have something to do with one of his ancestors, but I need to learn more to come to a conclusion. If it would actually appear, I’d be able to determine both its age and its original form, but it’s difficult to find someone telepathically when I’m not the one being contacted. The Director would have received some sort of message, though.”
“But he doesn’t know it?”
“That, or he doesn’t want to say. I wouldn’t say I’m suspicious of him, but it’s difficult to investigate with so few clues.” Tachibana leaned his elbows on the table and clasped his hands before him. “I’m not sure what I can do at this point,” he added with some mortification.
“But he said it was causing him anxiety, this astral projection business. You’ve gotta do something! Otherwise he’s gonna have a nervous breakdown.”
“Don’t worry, that’s not going to happen—not over something like this,” Tachibana answered, and about this, at least, he sounded confident. “He’s made of sterner stuff than that, no matter how bad things get with the company.”
Despite his short time here, this at least he knew: Hazama was the type to rise up to a challenge. He would not be bothered by nightmares or illusions while his indomitably spirit blazed for the fight. Even if they did appear to him, he would simply drive them away with his natural vitality.
“But that’s the strange thing,” Tachibana muttered: “He doesn’t particularly seem like someone who would be susceptible to such dreams. Even though he hired me to be his bodyguard, I don’t get the sense that he’s all that worried about what this ‘female spirit’ might do to him. It’s almost as if...he had another purpose for calling on me.”
“What do you mean, another purpose?”
“I feel like there’s something else he’s guarding against...though I don’t know what that might be,” Tachibana explained, brows knitting over a countenance grown doubtful and grave.
Okumura abruptly pushed back his chair, placed both hands on the table, and bowed his head. “Please just help him, whatever you need to do. Be his support! I beg of you!”
“Hey. Okumura...” Tachibana said, consternated. But Okumura only repeated ‘please,’ his head bowed. In the end he could only surrender.
“Really?”
“You really like this director of yours, huh?”
“You can tell?”
“It’s pretty obvious. A show-off like you contenting yourself with the position of a secretary? You must admire him.”
“He’s a man among men,” Okumura threw his shoulders back proudly. “A true leader who’s even stronger and more trustworthy in times of crisis than of smooth sailing—you gotta admit that’s pretty awesome. It’s been hard, but I think we’ll survive as long as he’s here. And I’m not the only one saying this. You can ask anyone here.”
“Why not go into sales or another department where you can work hard for the company and climb the corporate ladder more quickly? Why choose to stay here?”
“It’s the Director’s character I admire, not this company. I want to be his right-hand man and work wherever he is,” Okumura stated with utmost sincerity. His single-mindedness hadn’t changed one bit, Tachibana thought, eyes softening.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
"You get this look sometimes, like in a weird way you’re scoffing at me, and it just rubs me the wrong way. You gotta stop doing that, man.
Tachibana laughed, drawing excited chatter from the cluster of women at the entrance. Okumura stood and shouted at them, “Geez, enough already! Lunch break is over! Get back to your jobs!”
It had been ten days since his arrival in Osaka, Naoe recalled with deep emotion as he gazed at the cluster of buildings in the now-familiar Honmachi neighborhood . Business suits and office ladies were a commonplace sight here: it was indeed a business town.
Hazama had told him he only needed a bodyguard while he was at the company, since his residence in Ashiya was fully equipped with a security system—an odd view, since no security system was proof against ghosts. He had said as much to Hamaza, whose response had been simply: ‘Just stay with me until I go home’ and had set Naoe up in a studio apartment. That was when he’d decided that there was something else going on...
(I really hope this doesn’t blow up in my face...) He gazed out the car window at the buildings along Yotsubashi-suji.
The setting alone was cause for concern, for this was a focal point in the Ikkou Sect’s area of influence. The practical effects of that fact were striking. Those with a strong affinity for the supernatural had begun to see the spirits of what he believed to be sect followers on the streets of Osaka City quite frequently, and rumors inevitably followed. Naoe himself had come across countless such spirits.
Furthermore, a strong barrier had been erected around Osaka Castle Park where the Ikkou Sect stronghold Ishiyama Hongan Temple had once stood. Kennyo and company must be planning to claim it as their base once more. The existence of the barrier meant that no one could enter—well, technically they could, but anyone who did so lost consciousness immediately. Thus no one knew what was going on inside, which meant no one could deal with it.
“Osaka’s psychic point manifestation:” people had made a lot of noise about it a month ago, but someone must have worked behind the scenes to silence the media, leaving the situation suspended in a strange state of ‘everyone knows about it, but nobody cares.’ People simply left the problem alone.
The barrier, of course, was also an impediment to Naoe and company, necessitating a careful investigation of Osaka to refine their countermeasures. Okumura had contacted him while they were still coming up with a plan.
Hazama’s story prickled his spirit-sense. Having his employees believe he was there for the long haul was simply convenient. Although...
(At this rate, it might turn out to be true,) Naoe sighed with a hint of self-derision. Neither of his investigations was getting very far. (This is no time to be playing company man.)
“You’ve been quiet. What’s wrong?” asked Hazama seated beside him.
Naoe gathered his wandering thoughts and recomposed himself firmly in his Tachibana Yoshiaki persona once more.
“Nothing. My apologies. I was just thinking.”
“Are preparations for the trip to Kyoto next week complete?”
“Yes. I’ve booked the room as you asked. But may I ask...?”
“Hmm?”
“Well... I believe you’re planning to stay at the hotel for a week? But Kyoto isn’t that far from your home...”
“You see, Tachibana,” Hazama explained, his narrowed eyes fixed on the sun sinking towards its rest within the windows of the buildings flowing past outside, “I think of this trip as the decisive battle for Hazama Confectionery’s future.” The gravity and determination in his tone drew Naoe’s focus to him. “This big confectionery enterprises conference is a conference in name only; its actual purpose is to set the table for business strategies. Everyone in the industry will be in Kyoto next week. We need to take this opportunity to ally ourselves with those who can put the company back on its feet. If I can’t do that—” Hazuma’s expression was solemn, “—I’ll have to wrestle a great lion.”
“A great lion...?”
“Yes,” Hazama nodded, hands clenching into fists on his thighs. “Nakamura of Nagamori Confectionery has formally proposed a merger.”
“Nagamori Confectionery...! Which means...!”
Hazama nodded again, bitterness creasing his forehead.
A merger...
Okumura had told him that there’d been several probes.
(So the rumor was true...)
Nagamori Confectionery was a large enterprise boasting of top sales in its snacks division. Focusing on consumer appeal and expanding sales with its proprietary wholesale system, it was building on its momentum with the aim of advancing into Japanese traditional confectionery. Perhaps it viewed a merger with Hazama Confectioney as the first step in this plan.
Or so the rumor went.
“I expect Nakamura to announce a proposal at this conference.”
“Director.”
“...As long as we can stand on our own, I don’t want to merge. But I also have to think about my employees and how they’ll put food on their tables if we can’t stand any longer.”
Bankruptcy...
The word floated into Tachibana’s mind.
He had not realized how close the company was to the brink. There had been nothing in Hazama’s bearing to even suggest the possibility.
Admiration filled him for the indomitable force of will which never betrayed even the slightest anxiety or sense of impending crisis to his employees in order to keep up their morale. A leader who navigated troubled waters with confidence, who refused to relinquish his dignity under any circumstance—Naoe suddenly understood Hazama’s inner heart painfully well.
(He is an amazing person.) Naoe looked at Hazama with new esteem, understanding now Okumura’s admiration for him.
“I’ll be going into battle in Kyoto: a critical battle that will determine the fate of my company. How can I go home and relax at a time like that?”
“...Director.”
“Tachibana, I’m going to fight ’til the end. I will not allow my company to be crushed, or my employees to be kicked to the curb. We’re not going to rot in the stomach of Big Business. I refuse to lose this battle,” Hazama declared, returning Naoe’s gaze. “That’s the spirit that got me here. —Then again, nobody wants to end up a loser. I don’t want to go home with my tail between my legs.”
“...”
Hazama’s murmured words echoed in Tachibana’s mind and reached deep into his heart.
Nobody wants to to lose...
He repeated the words silently, hands secretly curling into fists on his thighs.
The car soon arrived at their destination: the Royal Hotel in Nakanoshima. They were here to meet with Managing Director Asada and his wife, a Fukuoka-based client.
“I would have brought my wife as well, but unfortunately she’s not feeling well.” He had heard that Hazama’s wife was not in the best of health. But Hazama’s attention was needed elsewhere right now. “I would like to introduce you, if you don’t mind.”
“Director, I don’t think...”
“That’s why I brought you. Since this will likely be the start of a long association.”
The driver opened the door before he could ask what Hazama meant. They alighted at the hotel’s front entrance and walked together across the spacious lobby toward the elevators.
“You’re an odd fellow.”
“Huh?”
“Those standing at the top are always alone. They may have countless employees trailing behind them, but no one beside them. They have to walk that path alone.”
“...”
“They have no one to guide them, and their employees’ livelihoods hang on their command. It’s a heavy responsibility. No matter what happens, they can never abandon these people who depend on them. They can’t escape. It’s hard, and it never ends.”
“It is not a duty that can be borne by simply anyone. One cannot reach such a position without the right disposition and magnanimity of nature, and a certain kind of charm.”
“‘Such a position,’ huh?” Hazama smiled wryly. “You certainly are a strange fellow. I feel like you know exactly how to flatter me.”
“It is not my intention to flatter.”
“No; let us say rather that you’re very good at encouraging someone who lacks confidence in himself. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, but you make yourself indispensable to your superiors in their moments of weakness.”
“It seems, in that case, that I am not indispensable to you.”
Hazama scowled.
“Because you are not weak.”
“...True.” Hazama stepped into the elevator. “Yet, if you should ever choose to betray someone, that virtue would become the ultimate weapon.”
“...”
“I’d never want to get on your bad side, if you ever came to work for me.”
The elevator stopped on the twelfth floor—not their floor. The doors opened to a young man in a rough blue jacket. He didn’t seem in any hurry to step in. Naoe prompted, “Excuse me, are you getting on?”
“Why don’t you get off instead?”
He was holding what appeared to be a dagger. Their faces involuntarily stiffened at the brusque demand. Naoe quickly exchanged a glance with Hazama, deferring to him.
They stepped out. As the doors closed behind them, Naoe asked, “What do you want?”
“You’re Hazama Shigeharu...yes?”
Naoe casually stepped in front of Hazama. Behind him, Hazama responded firmly, “Yes, I am Hazama.”
“You were warned. I want to know where it is. Hand it over.”
(Warned? ‘It?’)
Naoe looked questioningly at Hazama, who was outwardly unperturbed. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”
“Don’t play dumb! Do you really think you’re ready to face the consequences of ignoring us?”
“I don’t recall receiving any warnings.”
“So you’re going to to be obstinate.” The man’s dark eyes filled with aggression. “Fine. Allow me to help you remember!”
(What...!)
A hot wind assailed them both. Something roared past their flanks. It burned!
“Guh...!”
Naoe barely managed to dodge the attack—a sword of flame which struck the spot where he had been standing. He instinctively protected Hazama with a «goshinha». The fire surged back at them, two sharp pikes scorching the elevator hall walls to either side.
“Wh-what is that!”
“He’s...!”
Someone with the «power» to manipulate fire. Razors of flame attacked both of them without pause. Naoe shattered them with a «wall of self-protection» and reciprocated with «nenpa».
Obviously not expecting a counterattack, the man narrowly managed to throw up a «wall». Still, he abruptly flinched back and turned and dashed for the emergency stairs at the end of the hall.
“I’m going after him—please stay here!”
Naoe immediately gave chase. Razors of flame flew at him just as he wrenched open the door, ready to plunge down the emergency stairs after their attacker. He returned fire, arm raised in front of his face. Their strength was on a level, however, and his opponent pressed back with an unending stream of flames, blocking pursuit.
“You...!”
The air finally cleared, and Naoe sprinted down to the first floor. He burst outside, but the man was already gone. He had escaped.
Naoe stood motionless for a moment, jaw clenched tight.
(This feeling...) He was certain. This man— (He’s kanshousha.)
Why was kanshousha targeting Hazama? He said Hazama had received warnings. Did Hazama know him? What was the ‘it’ he wanted so badly to locate?
Naoe looked up at the building grimly.
Chapter 2: The Cowardly Rebel
They’d agreed to meet at Kyoto Station’s Karasuma central ticket gates at 2 p.m., but Kadowaki Ayako was late.
She finally got there at a bit past three, her arrival heralded by a shouted “Kagetora” from the midst of the busy foot traffic. She rushed up with an apologetic smile. Takaya, who’d been expecting her to come out of the ticket gate, was surprised to see her heading toward him from the bus stop opposite instead.
“Sorry ’bout that! Have you been waiting long?”
“You’re late! Do you know how long I’ve been standing here?” Takaya complained with a displeased pout, the picture of sullen indignation.
Wearing a brown leather jumper over a monochrome photo-printed t-shirt and his ever-present jeans, he’d arrived at Kyoto Station around two hours ago. The transfers after his train out of Matsumoto had been exceptionally smooth, so he’d actually arrived early—which meant he’d been waiting even longer than scheduled. Still, the short-tempered Takaya didn’t seem all that angry—rather more taken aback at Ayako’s outfit: blue riding boots with her favorite full-face helmet tucked under her arm.
“Don’t tell me you rode your bike here. You’ve sure got some guts...”
“Yup! All the way from Yokohama! I’m used to long-distance tours, but the time of year makes it kinda hard. It’s bad for girls’ hips to get cold, after all.”
However warm it had been for these past two, three days, it was still December. She had chosen clothes to protect against the cold, but it still looked thin to Takaya’s eyes, used to Matsumoto winters as he was.
“Wha-you!” Ayako yelled, plucking the cigarette from Takaya’s mouth.
“What are you doing? Give that back!”
“Come on, high school students shouldn’t be smoking!”
“And yet.” Takaya retrieved his cigarette and brought it back to his lips, inhaling.
“What the heck? When did you start smoking, anyway?”
“Junior high.”
“You’ve been doing it for that long?”
“I quit for a year or two. But one day I got irritated and had a smoke—and yeah, once you start it’s hard to stop.”
Annoyed, Ayako plucked the cigarette out of Takaya’s mouth again.
“Hey...! Stop that!”
“You’re the one who should stop! You think smoking makes you look cool? It doesn’t! It just makes you look like a little punk who’s trying too hard, so quit it!”
“Fuck you! I do what I want.”
Takaya leaned back against the wall and retrieved a carton of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. He extracted one and tapped the filter against the box in an extremely practiced motion.
“You’re gonna die of lung cancer.”
“Shut up. Stop nagging me. So what’re we doing? Are we supposed to be someplace or what? Let’s get a move-on already.”
“Lunch first. I just did the long haul from Yokohama, and I’m hungry. You’re coming with.”
“Hey. Ow, ow! Let go of me!”
Ayako hauled Takaya after her into a nearby café.
It was a Monday in the middle of winter, which meant few high school students were among the pedestrians out on the streets. Wandering around in casual clothes in the middle of a school day was no longer a novel experience for Takaya, but he still felt rather like a vagabond.
On a normal day he would have just finished Classical Literature in Sixth Period. Takaya’s thoughts turned to his classmates as he walked along Kyoto Station’s underground shopping center.
“I’ll probably have to stay back a grade,” he commented, still smoking as he took a seat in a peculiarly uncomfortable chair in one of the Kyoto Porta cafés .
“Oh dear. Is it that bad?” Ayako asked as she lifted some steaming Neapolitan-style udon to her lips. “But who cares, really? Honestly, I’d be more surprised if they didn’t keep a juvenile delinquent like you back a year. Not that it’s such a big a deal to get out of school a little later than the rest of your classmates. You’ve got lots of time, after all, so just take it slow and enjoy it.”
“...Easy for you to say,” Takaya gave Ayako a suspicious sidelong glare. He‘d been skipping school like this for the past two months, busy running around doing his ’job.’
“...Fukui, Saga, Hiroshima, Takamatsu. Geez, I’ve been everywhere these past two months—and you’re telling me I’ve got nothing to complain about? I’m not some business man going around on business trips. This is why all my class work’s been Greek to me.”
“Hasn’t Nagahide been covering for you with hypnotic suggestion? At least as far as attendance is concerned?”
“You think I can depend on a guy like that? Dammit, I guess I really should prepare myself?”
Takaya shoved his cigarette into the ashtray roughly and gulped down his ice coffee. Though Ayako was in college, she was careful to manage her absences. It didn’t hurt that her parents were close with the school director; in times of need they were pretty accommodating.
“I guess repeating a year is kinda embarrassing, isn’t it? ...You might as well resign yourself, though?”
“Are you joking? How long do I gotta stay in that stupid place, anyway? If I have repeat, I might as well drop out.”
“Stop that. Don’t be so careless with your life.”
“And who was it that got me involved in all of this stuff in the first place?”
Ayako swallowed a mouthful of her black tea and pointed her fork at Takaya. “You say that, but you’re the one who decided to go to Hiroshima and Takamatsu. Not to mention this little outing. So don’t blame it on other people. ...Though I guess Fukui was Naoe’s idea,” she added, before immediately cutting herself off. But it was too late: Takaya’s face had already change expression.
(Crap...) Casually mentioning Naoe in front of Takaya was a mistake. A grimness fell over his face as he leaned back against the chair and crossed his arms.
“That’s true,” he responded coldly. “But he’s too cautious in his approach. We have to stop putting so much emphasis on observation. We need to go in strong, be proactive with intervention, bring our power to the forefront. That’s the only thing that’ll keep the small fry quiet. Just the fact that we’re willing to intervene acts as a shield to a certain degree. I know that we have to take the balance of power into account. But if we keep going like this, it’ll take years for things to change for the better.”
“...”
“If the fighting keeps intensifying as it has been, we’ll never be able to catch up. Over-caution is gonna make us lose our chance, and we won’t be able to prevent the kind of things we’re here to protect against. I think we should take a more confident approach to intervention from now on.”
“...Are you serious?”
“You want to stop people from getting hurt, right?” Takaya asked with incredible dignity. Ayako gazed back at him solemnly.
The events at Nikkou seemed to have catalyzed a split personality in Takaya. He spoke and acted like ‘Kagetora’ more and more frequently—as if his memories were emerging as needed, but only when he needed them. When they were in effect, however, they rendered Takaya’s words and actions indistinguishable from the Kagetora of old.
So this ‘split personality’ wasn’t suddenly turning him into someone entirely unrecognizable. It wasn’t even transforming him into the ‘old Kagetora;’ rather, it felt as if the part of Takaya that was ‘Kagetora’ had awakened within him, as if ‘Kagetora’s’ nature had broken out of its shell and bled through to stain Takaya just slightly. Or was it that ‘Kagetorian’ characteristics already present within Takaya had bloomed at the touch of his distant past?
Ayako dropped her head into her hands. (I don’t know...)
Every time she thought about it her head ended up a jumbled mess, so she had to give it up. She couldn’t help but get a little angry when ‘Takaya’ acted like a spoiled child, though.
“If that’s the course you want to pursue, you probably will have to repeat a year or drop out, so don’t go blaming other people.”
Takaya gave Ayako a sullen glare. She lifted some udon to her lips, pretending not to notice.
Takaya turned his gaze to the street outside.
He and Naoe had met twice after Nikkou, while dealing with onshou in Fukui and Saga.
Ayako had traveled with them for the case in Fukui, involving the spirit of a woman who had been sacrificed at Marugame Castle. It turned out to be a trap set by Oda for the Ikkou Sect, and Naoe and Takaya had fought viciously over the right course of action.
Their opposing philosophies, one advocating caution and the other a bold show of strength, had clashed not infrequently in times of old.
One might think, therefore, that they had resumed their previous relationship, and that it was business as usual. But to her it was obvious that nothing could be further from the truth.
Not only were they not on the same page, they were reading from entirely different scripts.
There were no violent outbursts—but neither were they ‘calm.’ Naoe voiced his objections almost by rote, as if he were disagreeing for the sake of disagreement. Takaya conducted himself with deliberate detachment and a complete lack of emotion, carrying the act to the point of pain.
They also avoided all private conversation. Not a word was spoken that was not about the job at hand.
So Ayako tried to mediate. For her efforts, she received a glare and “Mind your own business” from Takaya, while Naoe didn’t even give her that much, silently terminating the conversation with his complete lack of response. “Uncomfortable” didn’t begin to describe the experience—“deeply unpleasant” and “nigh unbearable” might be somewhat closer; by the end of the case she‘d been at her wits’ end, her nerves shot to nothing.
Ayako sighed deeply as she raised the last of the Neapolitan udon to her mouth.
She’d called Naoe before starting out, but had been unable to reach him; his family relayed something about him being in Osaka with an acquaintance. They were unsure about a contact address.
(You should’ve called someone before going off on your own,) Ayako scolded him in the privacy of her mind. (...What are you trying to accomplish, Naoe?)
She was more worried about Naoe than Takaya.
He had obviously changed since Nikkou. He spoke less, and allowed himself to display less emotion. He still smiled: the polished smile he used to facilitate communication—but that small warm smile which rose naturally to the surface from the heart was gone; at times a nihilistic sort of cynicism took its place. It was as if he had lost all warmth as he struggled with his pain. He was coldly, quietly, falling apart.
What did Takaya see when he looked at Naoe now?
Takaya lit his second cigarette, the action far too practiced for a high school student. It reminded her of his former self, a young man very much like the one sitting before her.
Since Nikkou, Takaya had begun to openly display his strength to the people around him, and it worried her.
It was a blunt demand that others acknowledge his power. That, too, was reminiscent of the Kagetora of old—and Ayako never understood why he directed those actions at those closest to him instead of his enemies. She had always thought it strange, and feared the impulse behind it.
In the face of such threats from Kagetora, Naoe had always made it a point to demonstrate not his loyalty, but his servility: no other response was possible to him before Kagetora’s show of force. Yet one only needed to look into his eyes to see the humiliation and defiance he felt.
But now even that was gone.
Ayako knew Naoe. An austere man, he betrayed nothing to the outside world—yet the truth was that he hungered after power, and his self-esteem was much higher than that of the average person. This was the source of his pain when it came to his relationship with Kagetora.
She could only describe this Naoe as having given up on himself.
Did Kagetora understand that about him?
“Whatever happens, just don’t act rashly, okay, Kagetora? There’s still Yuzuru-kun to consider.”
Takaya’s brows lifted sharply. Ayako instantly straightened in her chair—but the expected retort from Takaya never came.
“...All right.”
They left the café at a little past four.
“You want me to ride tandem in this cold? Are you insane?” Takaya balked at the sight of Ayako’s FZR parked in front of the station.
“It’s a motorcycle, what did you expect? Here’s your helmet. Climb up.”
“It’s humiliating sitting behind a girl.”
“Oh really? I think it’s pretty cool, actually.”
“Switch with me. Let me drive.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so. This is my motorcycle, and you’re a horrible rider. What happens if you take a spill like before and scratch my Ecchan?”
“Ecchan?”
“My bike’s name is Ecchan the FZR. It’d be awful for a girl to get her face get all bruised and scratched up—unlike you with your GSX. For your information, I already know all about your balance and riding sense, so suck it up and get on already.”
“...Don’t you have an actual license? Can’t we just get a rental car? Please?”
“Making me drive would be asking for trouble.”
Driving around Kyoto really wouldn’t have been a great idea.
Its grid-patterned streets resulted in far too many intersections, which, naturally, were congested year-round with cars stuck at at traffic light after traffic light. A motorcycle could slide right through the snarl. Even Takaya, seated behind Ayako, could admit that this was probably the right way to go.
This time around, their job was to find a person: the warlord called Araki Murashige.
Originally a vassal of the Ikeda Clan, Oda Nobunaga had recognized his talents and entrusted him with the province of Settsu. He, along with Hashiba Hideyoshi and company, had been key to Oda’s capture of the Chuugoku.
Yet he later allied with the Mouri Clan in an attempt to rebel against Nobunaga. In return, Nobunaga laid siege to him at Arioka Castle in Itami and took his wife, retainers, and the other members of his clan hostage. He abandoned them and fled with Mouri’s help, to end up a wanderer of the provinces. Hideyoshi found him thus after Nobunaga’s death and made him a member of his Otogi-shuu, one set upon the path of knowledge and culture.
Naoe had informed them of Murashiga’s resurrection. He had allied himself with the Ikkou Sect along with Akechi Mitsuhide and others in order to bring Oda down.
Ten days or so ago, some strange news had come to their attention. Chiaki called Takaya during a recess to tell him.
“Murashige has betrayed the Ikkou Sect?” Takaya repeated dubiously. “What’s that about?”
“Dunno the details, but I’ve heard the Ikkou Sect’s vengeful wraith-generals—well, I guess they’d be vengeful wraith-monks—are eagerly seeking Murashige’s whereabouts.” Chiaki Shuuhei, dressed in a school uniform, leaned back against the corridor wall and took off his glasses. “Guess they’re switching back to Oda’s side. What I don’t understand is why the Ikkou Sect is in such a frenzy. I heard Murashige was operating with them in Osaka...”
Kennyo, leader of the Ikkou Sect, had issued a blanket command to all his followers to capture Murashige.
“They’ve gone so far as to issue temporary armistices on all their battle fronts just to go after one guy—pretty strange, don’t you think? If they’re worried about him having top-secret information or something, they could just kill him. Instead, they want him captured and brought back alive: that’s how much the Ikkou Sect needs him. Any idea why that would be?”
Takaya turned his gaze skyward for a moment, thinking. “...Maybe it has to do with his strategic alliance with the Mouri? Murashige is supposed to be their go-between...”
“True... Looks like our general is getting pretty good at speculation.”
“Oh, shut up! How the hell would I know, anyway?” Takaya sulked. Chiaki grinned as his slid his glasses into his shirt pocket.
The potential alliance between the Ikkou Sect and the Mouri was a source of lively conjecture within the «Yami-Sengoku». They and Oda were currently engaged in a three-way battle for the Kinki and Chuugoku regions, with particularly fierce fighting between Oda and the Ikkou Sect. Any alliance the Mouri formed would completely alter the course of the battle; whoever could accomplish such a feat would find the power balance tilted enormously in their favor.
In his previous life Murashige had been Mouri’s ally.
“Kennyo and the Ikkou Sect probably want to use that connection as an in with the Mouri, but that’s not enough to explain why they’re now baying for his blood.”
“I think we should deal with Murashige and associates ASAP,” Chiaki said. “Whatever else might be going on, they’re still the key to an alliance. We’ll get steamrolled if that three-way fight gets turned into a two-against-one. We gotta stop them before that happens.”
“Huh, right,” Takaya muttered, and considered. The Ikkou Sect had certainly not been up to anything good lately. “All right. I’ll make a decision once I have a look around.”
They immediately utilized all the resources at their command to begin the work of intelligence-gathering. Three days ago, they finally received word from a reliable source: Murashige was in Kyoto.
That information had been leaked from the Ikkou Sect’s own hunt for Murashige, which meant their opponent was already a step ahead. They had to move fast.
Meanwhile, they also learned that the Ikkou Sect was working on an important project in order to seal their alliance with the Mouri. Shimotsuma Rairen, whom Takaya had faced in Toyama, was leader of that project, and his underlings were vigorously at work in the Settsu area. Murashige’s urgent capture was but one link in a grander scheme. It was imperative that they learn the particulars of this plan; finding Murashige, therefore, was crucial—for he held to key to everything.
Their first stop out of Kyoto Station was Houkoku Shrine in Higashiyama Ward, which was dedicated to Taikou Toyotomi Hideyoshi and told of the Toyotomi Clan’s rise and fall. Affectionately known as ‘Houkoku-san,’ it held Fushimi Momoyama Castle’s transplanted Kara Gate, a designated National Treasure, and its northern section encompassed the famous Houkou Temple.
They soon arrived on the bike.
“Here okay?”
“Yeah,” Takaya answered, climbing down from his seat behind Ayako. He took off his helmet and skimmed a hand through his hair. “I arranged to have the Uesugi «Nokizaru» rendezvous with us here.”
“«Nokizaru»? You’ve already...”
Takaya began lightly climbing the stone steps to the shrine grounds without responding. Once the name of the ninja corps which served Kenshin in Echigo, the «Nokizaru» were now Uesugi spirits who specialized in intelligence-gathering. Their role was comparable to the locality-bound guardian spirit «Lady in White», but these spirits were far more mobile due to their ability to possess anyone at will.
To wit: Takaya, who had not even been aware of the existence of the «Lady in White» just a short time ago, was now mobilizing the «Nokizaru» at will.
“Wow, I can’t believe you’ve laid so much of the groundwork already.”
“Hurry up—he’s waiting for us.”
She looked up to see an old man dressed in the garb of the chief priest standing in front of the great Kara Gate, entranceway to the rather modest grounds of the shrine complex beyond.
Takaya walked up to him. “Thank you for all your hard work. Shall we get right to it?”
The possessing «Nokizaru» bowed deeply toward Takaya. “I have been awaiting your arrival, Kagetora-sama.”
“I’ll take your report.”
The «Nokizaru» described the results of his investigation in detail: the state of Kyoto, the movements of the Ikkou Sect... And—
“The Shimotsuma brothers, here in Kyoto?” Takaya repeated, and the «Nokizaru» nodded. “Do you mean Shimotsuma Rairen? We «exorcised» Raishou in Toyama.”
“He has another younger brother named Rairyuu.”
Ayako interjected, “I’ve heard he’s a muscle for the Ikkou Sect: Rairen provides the brain, Rairyuu provides the brawn. We don’t have any first-hand reports, but rumors say he took back Osaka Castle from Oda pretty much single-handedly in less than three days. Sounds like a pretty scary guy to me.”
“As if somebody that crazy actually exists. So if they’re here, I guess Murashige must be, too?”
“Well,” the «Nokizaru» replied cautiously, “the Shimotsuma appear to have another target in mind.”
“Another target?” Takaya frowned. “Any clue what that is yet?”
“My apologies. All I’ve heard is that they’ve been here for two to three months searching for something. But what it might be...”
“Searching for something? Not Murashige?”
“It appears to be an object of some kind. They’ve been ordered to temporarily suspend the hunt for Murashige, though I don’t know the reason for that change.”
“They’ve stopped the hunt, huh...?” Takaya muttered, his gaze slanting off into the distance as he pondered this new development. “Anything else I should know?”
“Yes... Though this probably has nothing to do with Araki...”
“That’s all right, tell me.”
“A strange spirit has lately become a subject of conversation in this town.”
“Strange spirit? Where did it appear?”
Apparently the «Nokizaru» had immediately performed a spirit-sensing, and was therefore able to offer a detailed description. The spirit was female, and judging by her age, had died during the Sengoku. She had been spotted at night—perhaps the only time she was active. Though she had harmed no one, she had become the talk of the town due to the fact that even ordinary people could see her clearly.
“A female spirit at Kyoto U...”
A princess who had failed her entrance exams? Hah. What had happened in the Sengoku over there...? The area was unfamiliar to him, and he was drawing a blank.
Takaya thought for a moment before nodding decisively. “Keep tailing Rairen and company; don’t take your eyes off them. We’re done here,” he told the «Nokizaru», the orders coming easy and experienced from his lips. The «Nokizaru» left his vessel after a succinct acknowledgement. The ‘ordinary’ chief priest came back to himself as Takaya’s gaze turned to the path. He was already taking the stone steps down by the time the old man started to look around, confused about his whereabouts and what he had been doing.
Ayako followed hot on Takaya’s heels. “So what’s the plan?”
“We’ll wait until nightfall and head for the university—I’m worried about this female spirit. I’ll sent the Gohou Douji to look for Murashige. Let’s do a quick sweep of the city in the meantime. How are people supposed to live here with so many spirits everywhere? We’ll get them cleared out by day’s end.”
“Hey, don’t you think you should at least consult me before making all these decisions? Wait a minute, Kagetora!”
Takaya turned on the steps to look at her with that cool gaze so characteristic of Kagetora. “What?”
Ayako stopped dead, a shiver running through her. “No-nothing...”
“Just follow my lead; I guarantee that that will always be your best course of action. There’s no need for you to worry.”
“Kagetora...”
He turned on his heels and began walking away, his distinct, agile figure exuding a commander’s unmistakable confidence and forcefulness. A mien that said: I will not be denied.
Ayako straightened, feeling as if she’d been sternly rebuked for her casually intimate behavior.
(This kid is no longer the helpless young man who knew nothing...)
When she followed behind him as she did now, Ayako was keenly aware of herself as ‘Kakizaki Haruie.’ But without him she could not have lived through these four hundred years. They would never be completely alone in the world as long as those dark, quiet eyes gazed upon them. And because they were not alone, they could go on living.
(And that’s why I can...continue to wait.)
The cold winter wind swirled around her feet. Suddenly she stopped, feeling as if she had heard someone call her name.
She looked up at the clear sky through the overhanging boughs. The December wind was crisp against her skin, redolent of old memories. Of course, she thought. (This wind...)
When this wind blows, remember me.
She recalled his beloved voice saying those words. The season of his wind has come again, Ayako thought.
How many winters have passed?
When had she stopped counting? Now, as always, Ayako looked up at the deep blue sky as she thought of her distant love.
The car carrying Hazama and Naoe arrived at their destination, a traditional Japanese restaurant in Gion called ‘Hanaguruma,’ as lights began coming on in Kyoto.
The first day of the Confectionery Industries Symposium had ended pretty much without a hitch. They had come straight from the conference to meet with several wholesalers in a conclave Hazama had set up some time ago. Hazama Confectionery’s department chiefs were here in Kyoto attending the Symposium as well and would also be present, which meant Naoe was not the only secretary accompanying them. Hazama, however, had deliberately appropriated Naoe for himself. They would be the last to arrive.
“Now for the first battle,” Hazama murmured as they were guided down a polished and gleaming corridor. “I’ll show everyone I’m not going down without a fight, just watch me.”
“Director...”
“Every man faces his own moment of truth; this is mine,” he stated as he stepped into the banquet room. To Naoe’s eyes, he looked exactly like a general going into battle. He had the feeling he now understood why those books which drew parallels between businessmen and warriors of the Sengoku were so popular: the corporate world was itself composed of warring states.
He had not made any progress in his investigation of the kanshousha who had attacked Hazama at the Royal Hotel. When asked, Hazama had flat-out refused to tell him anything about the ‘object.’ He did appear to have an idea of what the man had referred to, however.
(Does it have anything to do with the ‘female spirit’?)
Or was it another mystery altogether?
(What is this ‘object’?)
It was the key, and no doubt the man would seek Hazama out again. His first priority had to be Hazama’s safety.
The party in the tatami room was complete, and the meeting began at the appointed time.
Observing Hazama as he exchanged greetings with colleagues and guests, and reading the gravity beneath his smile, Naoe thought, (I will protect this man...)
He would do anything to help Hazama survive this battle: his determination was perfectly genuine. And yet—a part of him mocked that very sincerity.
(I am such a hypocrite...)
His feelings were not false, but he could not deny the fact that he was pouring his loyalty into another in order to escape his shackles. He did not consider himself a coward for doing so. Nor did he feel shame.
He had sub-consciously begun to compare Hazama’s every action to Kagetora’s.
(This man surpasses him...)
As a human being. As a natural leader.
A generous leader with an agile mind, Hazama possessed a natural talent for reading and understanding others. Yet he also listened to his subordinates, and was able to gain their loyalty, to lead and guide them, through his force of character, without needing to resort to Kagetora’s coercion and compulsion. Who would want to rise in revolt against such a leader? All their feelings were poured into their loyalty toward him.
Observation became censure of Kagetora. ...Here was proof that the loathing and desire for conquest Kagetora inspired was a character flaw. How could anyone follow someone so self-centered and vain, someone devoid of compassion for others, someone who used his strength to force submission in order to conceal his own sense of indebtedness and inferiority?
The Absolute was no longer absolute when faced with a more perfect perfection. Reduced thus to one of the ordinary masses, he no longer had the power to intimidate.
(I am such a hypocrite...)
Reality reasserted itself in the form of a phone call about an hour into the conference.
Hazama remained in his seat. Naoe rose to take it. An elderly male voice told him with jarring informality, “You give Hazama a message for me. Tell ’im it’s from Agi, Agi the antiques dealer. Tell ’im it’s about the mandala.”
Chapter 3: Corpse-Hair Mandala
Nights in the Shijou-Kawara neighborhood during the year-end party season were loud and lively, its streets bustling with people. In their midst, Ayako stood alone at the foot of the Great Four-Arched Bridge with her back toward the brilliant neon lights, staring down at Kamo River.
“Nee-san?”
“Wah!” Ayako snapped back to the present. She brushed quickly at her eyes; for an instant, Takaya thought he saw tears. “Wow, that was quick. I didn’t expect you back so fast,” she temporized. She didn’t seem quite her usual self, and it worried Takaya more and more. He peered into her face with concern.
“Is something wrong?”
“Huh? No, nothing’s wrong!” she responded brightly, but there was no corresponding smile in her eyes. “Guess dinner’s going to be quick, huh?” she added, snatching the bag of hamburgers out of his arms.
A giant sweep of Kyoto’s spirits had taken them right up to dinner time and beyond, so they were making do with fast food. But Ayako only grew increasingly odd. Takaya gave her more than a few questioning looks as Ayako consumed her burger in silence.
“Nee-san...hey, if anything’s happened, you can tell me. I don’t know what’s going on, but I feel like something’s been bothering you.”
“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. Anyway, let’s do a quick exorcism of Rokujou-gawara so we can head to the university...”
“Nee-san, come on.”
Ayako paused at Takaya’s unexpected vehemence.
“Stop brushing me off. What is it? Just tell me. Something’s worrying you, right? Have I hurt your feelings or something?”
“No, nothing like that. I’m fine, everything’s fine. It’s just been a while since I’ven been in Kyoto, and I was remembering the old days, geez. But it’s not like I’m not the kind of person who’s going to wallow in nostalgia in the middle of a job,” Ayako replied, before returning to the task of gobbling down her hamburger.
Takaya stared thoughtfully at her, his dinner uneaten in his hand. He had a vague intuition regarding the cause of her odd behavior. There were times when Ayako’s expression turned sad, when she seemed almost like another person. This was one of those times.
After a moment of silence, Takaya lifted his head and resolutely attempted to broach the subject one more time.
“There’s something I’ve wanted to ask you about...”
“Hmm...?”
“About your lover from two hundred years ago.”
Ayako stopped eating, a haunted expression on her face. Takaya gravely awaited her response.
“Naoe told you?”
“A while ago. You never talk about it,” Takaya replied, tucking his right hand into his jacket pocket. Naoe had told him that Ayako always chose to be reborn as a woman because she was waiting for the rebirth of her lover, a man who had died shortly after they had met two hundred years ago.
“I think you’re amazing.”
“...”
“I keep thinking to myself, ‘she’s so strong.’ That you could wait for such a long time, you must really have loved him. I don’t mean that in any sort of bad way.”
Looking down at his feet, Takaya’s lips curled with self-derision.
“I always thought that the human heart was the most unreliable thing in the world. I look at my mom and my dad, and I wonder why, when two people come together in love, they have to grow to hate each other so much. I couldn’t accept it when I was a kid, but lately I’ve started to think that it’s natural—and I feel like I understand how special the forever kind of love is. ”
“I don’t really know, because I‘ve never really loved anyone that way. I think you’re amazing for going this far just because of ’love.’”
“I don’t know about that.” A little tired, Ayako softened her tone. Takaya looked at her in surprise. “Maybe it’s because he’s not here that I could love him for so long.”
“But...”
“Besides, if you’re going to say that, I would have to say that Naoe is way more amazing than I am. He’s loved you for such a long time, and without expectation of anything in return.”
Takaya’s head jerked up. “But he...”
“Yeah, I guess calling Naoe great or amazing doesn’t quite sound right, ” Ayako interrupted. “He’s not free. His ‘love’ isn’t just that, is it. It’s a mess of every emotion, love and hate together, and his attachment to you—his obsession with you—is his pain. To him it would be outrageous that his eternal love for you might be called a great thing. To him it’s nothing but chains binding him. And this isn’t something you can say to someone who’s borne it for so long. ...But—and this sounds strange, I know—I really envy Naoe sometimes: because at least you’re here. You can only bind him so long as you exist. That you’re here—just that—is something that should never be taken for granted.” Ayako turned her back to the street, her gaze falling to the dark Kamo River. “There’s no guarantee that I’ll find him again even if he is reborn. Or even that I’ll recognize him. To wait for something so uncertain...to put it bluntly: it’s absurd.” Ayako’s smile was full of self-mockery. “Because that’s what it is. Maybe I’m just hung up on this guy from the past, maybe I just want to wait, I wouldn’t deny any of that. Because it’s probably true...”
“No! You are amazing!” Takaya’s raised voice startled Ayako.
“Kagetora.”
“You are! It’s proof of how strong you are that you’ve believed for so long without any guarantees! Isn’t it?!”
Ayako was a little taken aback, and Takaya became angry. Was it to rebuke Ayako’s for her timidity? Or because he actually wanted to convince himself?
Ayako smiled, perhaps in encouragement to Takaya. “What you said, it’s given me a lot of confidence.”
“Nee-san.”
“That’s right, isn’t it. I’ll keep on believing. I have faith.” The breeze from the river caught her long hair, and it streamed out behind her in slow waves. Takaya gazed at her as if her were something strange and marvelous. Yet in Ayako’s profile Takaya could see something terribly worn and exhausted.
“Oh no, I can’t believe it’s this late already! Hurry up and eat so we can head for the University! I need my beauty sleep!”
Ayako inhaled the rest of her burger.
It was nearing 11 pm by the time Naoe and Hazama returned to their hotel. They confirmed their schedule for the next day before heading back to their rooms. Before they parted, Hazama mentioned, “I’m going to have a visitor here tomorrow night. His name is Agi-san.”
“Agi? The man who called earlier?”
“Yes. He’s an antiques dealer, an old acquaintance of mine. There’s an artifact I want to sell, and I want to discuss it with him in person. Please adjust the schedule to ensure I can be back by eight.”
“Director,” Naoe stopped him from walking away. “What are you hiding from me? Don’t you think it’s about time you told me what’s going on?”
Hazama regarded his tall secretary with an expression that was not altogether pleased. In the end, however, he gave a huge sigh. “Hmm. I suppose I can’t slip it past you. I guess...”
“This artifact you wish to discuss with Agi tomorrow—it has something to do with your attacker from other day, doesn’t it? That’s what he wanted from you?”
“It’s a long story.” Forestalling Naoe’s obvious impatience, Hazama added, “—Not one to be told while standing around here. Let’s talk in my room.”
Hazama’s room faced Horikawa Avenue with its glow of car lights going to and fro. Condensation dewed the windows; Naoe pulled the shoji shades shut against the night chill.
“The artifact they’re looking for is an ancient mandala I bought from Agi twenty years ago.”
“Mandala...”
As Hazama began to tell the story, Naoe made Japanese tea from a teabag included with the room. He handed Hazama a steaming cup before taking a seat on the sofa in front of him.
“It’s said to have been made in the Aduchi-momoyama Era, roughly four hundred years ago,” Hazama explained, “but it’s the mandala’s history, rather than just its age, that makes it valuable. Unlike ordinary mandalas, even those from ancient times, a part of this one was said to have been hand-woven with corpse hair.”
“Corpse hair?”
“Yes. Its source certificate states that the hair came from the Araki clan, who were killed by Oda Nobunaga.”
Naoe’s face turned grim. “The Araki clan...”
“You probably haven’t heard of them. A long time ago, a commander named Araki Murashige governed the Itami area. This Murashige rebelled against Nobunaga and lost, and his vassals and entire family were executed. That’s where the hair came from. It’s said that someone related to them wove their hair into the mandala as a memorial.”
Hazama sipped at his tea.
“And you bought it from Agi?”
“My grandfather once told me that one of my ancestors was an Araki retainer. If you’re asking for my reasons, that was one of them...I suppose. Would you laugh if I told you that I foresaw it in a dream?”
“Foresaw... that you would own this mandala?”
“Yes. It was probably entirely happenstance, due to my learning about the Araki family. But I’ve been having similar dreams lately—isn’t that strange?”
“About the ‘ancient female spirit?’”
“She looks like a princess from a Taiga Drama. In my dreams she begs me to protect the mandala.”
“...”
“That was when I started thinking about selling my antiques to help pay the company’s debts. The situation is urgent and requires sacrifice, however much she may want me to protect it. I consulted Agi about two weeks ago, and entrusted him with the mandala for appraisal.”
“When did the threats start?”
“I got the first one two days after meeting with Agi. I received a call where I was told, ‘Hand over the mandala. Unpleasant things will happen to you if you don’t.’ I’ve received a number of similar calls since then. Several strange and unsettling things happened soon after.”
Naoe frowned. For a moment he sat sunk in thought. “Who is this man you’re meeting with Agi tomorrow? Someone who’s expressed interest in buying the mandala?”
“I don’t know the details; I don’t believe it’s one of his regular clients, and I’m uncertain how he heard about the mandala. Sales of this kind are very rare, and he apparently paid a large amount of money for this introduction. Possibly because I’m one of Agi’s long-time customers.”
Naoe fell back into silent thought. It was suspicious to say the least: the timing was too coincidental. “Where is this problematic corpse-hair mandala now?”
“Agi called in a favor to ascertain the age of the hair. Last week, an acquaintance of his was able to get it into a facility capable of performing scientific tests on it.”
“Which facility?”
Hazama finished his tea at a gulp and leaned forward over the low table. “Kyoto University.”
The campus had already fallen quiet.
Several rooms of the Engineering Department’s building still had lights on, but it was deserted outside.
“Do you know where it happened?”
“Yeah,” Ayako answered. She brushed her long hair behind her ear as if she were straining to hear. “Over here,” she led Takaya past the clock tower to their right and into the avenue of cedars.
“The spirit is female.”
“Female? Is she violent? How old is she?”
“Very old—a coupla hundred years at least. She doesn’t feel «malicious», though, so I would guess she’s a guardian spirit. Over there—on the east side of that building on the right,” she pointed.
They stepped into the building in question, the four-story East Building which housed the Literature Department. At the center of this columned four-sided square edifice was a spacious courtyard. They stepped inside.
“It’s on the second floor, over there.”
‘Over there,’ to the east of the courtyard, was the Japanese History laboratory. A count of the windows indicated that a Professor Matsuo occupied the office of interest. The door into the building was firmly locked, but nendouryoku easily solved that problem. A chill infused the darkened corridor within, and their footsteps echoed loudly. Two sets of stairs led up to the second floor; they took the one facing east.
“...There’s someone here.” Ayako came to a stop near the landing.
“There’s someone...? Where?”
“On the stairs above us. That’s odd—the doors were all locked. Could it be someone working overtime? ...Do you smell that?”
Something was burning.
Smoke crept along the ceiling, and they could hear the crackling of flames...
(Fire...!)
They sprinted up the remaining stairs. At the top, smoke billowed from an office illuminated by bright red flames.
“Kagetora...”
A black shadow sprang out of room and into the smoke. They saw it turn towards them for a second, startled, before fleeing down the corridor at lightning speed.
“Nee-san!”
“Got it!”
Ayako gave determined chase. The fire alarm blared as Takaya leapt into the room—and immediately flinched back from heat hot enough to sear skin. Books were piled on the bookshelves against the wall and had overflowed into a heap on the floor. The concentration of burning paper only fueled the ravenous flames. The sprinkler was no match against what had grown in seconds into a conflagration. The blaze licked against the ceiling and looked ready to break through the windows in search of oxygen.
(Fuck...!)
He saw no one inside. Takaya drew «power» around himself.
(I have to put this thing out right now!)
Shielding himself with a «goshinheki», Takaya released his will in the form of a razor whirlwind. It swirled around the fire, drawing it into an airless vacuum until the last spark was extinguished.
It took less than a minute. Afterwards, all that remained were the blackened shelf and wall, and the emergency alarm still shrilly ringing.
(I gotta get out now—this is attracting attention.) He whirled to the door...and stopped, feeling as if someone had called to him.
Turning back to the room, he saw something glowing palely in a scorched corner. Closer examination in the light coming through the windows revealed a simple safe. It appeared to be the only object in the room which had escaped the fire without a mark.
(That’s...)
A spirit slipped softly into existence before him: a young woman with heavy black hair and white slender cheeks dressed in a quilted silk garment, her head held high. Takaya had never seen a wraith more beautiful. Judging by her stately, noble appearance, she would have been a princess of high status in her lifetime.
Had she protected the safe from the fire?
“Who was that man? He set the fire, didn’t he?” Takaya asked calmly.
“Who are you?”
The female spirit’s thoughts echoed in Takaya’s mind: “Dashi...”
“Is that your name?”
“Why have you come here?” ‘Dashi’ demanded. Though she appeared peaceful, he was on the highest alert.
“Mandala...?”
Encountering the word in her questions, Takaya frowned.
“What is that? You think that’s why we came? Where is it? Is that what that man wanted?”
‘Dashi’ suddenly fell silent, perhaps sensing that Takaya was not an ‘enemy’ she need be wary of.
Takaya pressed, “Are you protecting this object, this mandala?” He turned his gaze to the safe behind ‘Dashi.’ He was sure now that she had protected it from the fierce fire.
“...”
“It’s in there, isn’t it?” Takaya asked carefully. “Is that what the man was after? He set the fire because he wanted to burn it, didn’t he?”
‘Dashi’ remained silent at Takaya’s question, yet she seemed sad.
“Please tell me. Who was that man? What is the object in there? Just what is so special about the mandala?”
‘Dashi’ nodded and told him: “I am the guardian spirit of this mandala. I must protect it from those evil people who would exploit my family’s spirits for their own purposes. I wish to sent them all to Heaven before they can be abused.”
“Your family’s spirits? Abused? What do you mean?”
The ghostly ‘Dashi’ shook her head. She closed her eyes as tears began to spill quietly down her face.
«Murashige-sama...»
“...!”
No way, Takaya thought, frozen in place—but he couldn’t afford to stay here any longer. He could hear the footsteps of several people ascending the stairs. The police was coming. He had to go.
Cutting his connection to the weeping ‘Dashi’, Takaya opened the window and jumped out. It was a simple matter to use nendouryoku to slow his descent. He landed gently and took cover. A crowd was gathering in the literature building, steadily increasing in both numbers and sonority.
(I can’t just leave her here...)
The female spirit named ‘Dashi.’
(Protect the mandala...)
Which was likely also in the same room. Dashi was protecting the mandala so that the spirits of her family would not be abused. Who was her family? Who was targeting them? How, abused?
Then there was the man who wanted to burn the mandala.
(Murashige?)
Could it be...?
(Was that ‘Araki Murashige’?!)
Takaya abruptly whirled toward the direction Ayako had gone.
(Nee-san!)
“Don’t take me lightly just because I’m a woman!” Ayako yelled, hot on the fleeing man’s heels.
The man didn’t even turn. Beneath his half-length leather coat he was solidly built; judging by his speed, if anyone else had been chasing him he’d be long gone by now. But once Ayako was committed to the chase, she had the nigh-rabid stamina to keep up with almost anyone—though her temper often ran out faster than her physical strength.
“...I warned you, so no complaints later!”
Ayako filled herself with «power». But perhaps sensing the change in her aura, the man suddenly turned to fling a «nenpa» at her.
“Gyah!” Ayako leapt away from the crumbling asphalt. There was a reason the others called her impetuous; she hadn’t even considered that he might be able to use «power».
“Well...why didn’t you tell me earlier?” she snarled, her eyes narrowed in anger, and instantly returning fire: “Take that!”
The concrete in front of the man exploded, and he recoiled. Shielding himself, he returned her glare for glare and countered with «nenpa» as Ayako called a mass of energy to her hands.
“I’m not done yet!”
She threw it at him. The air hissed and warped as will clashed against will, throwing violent, dazzling sparks into the night.
“Guh...!”
The man covered himself. Ayako crouched low, readying her next attack. In that moment, however, she saw his face illuminated by the light. His face...!
Shock stole movement from Ayako’s body.
(Wh...!)
A «nenpa» exploded with concussive force right in front of her, sending her flying. She tumbled to the asphalt but immediately got up again in a defensive position.
“Wait!” she cried. But the man dashed away without turning. Ayako immediately took up the chase again. She had to be sure of what she had seen. Had it been a hallucination? Heedless of decorum or dignity, she shouted, “Wait! Please wait!”
Perhaps sensing the odd change in his pursuer, the man looked over his shoulder. Ayako put on a desperate burst of speed to finally catch up to him. She gripped his arm.
Beneath the streetlights Ayako peered into his face from inches away. Their eyes met.
(Why...!)
Ayako wanted to scream.
She had no words to describe this man who had burst into her sight. The sensation of his arm, solid in her grasp, what she felt when she looked up at him...his bewildered eyes as he stared back at her.
(It can’t be...)
Her heart was beating a frantic rhythm. She couldn’t breathe. It was impossible. And yet, in front of her was— But this man was...was...
“You...” The man said quizzically, looking directly back at Ayako. “Who are you?”
“It’s me...” she cried desperately, still grasping his arm tightly, the words slipping out before she had even thought of them. “It’s ‘Tsuta.’ Don’t you know me? I’m Haruie! You must remember me!”
“...”
“Don’t you remember me? You have to! Shintarou-san!”
“You are...”
“It’s me! Otsuta!” Ayako cried, clinging to the man’s arm. “Why are you here? Why? Tell me!”
“Haruie!”
The man turned in surprise to see Takaya running toward them. An enemy, he judged, and immediately prepared to attack.
“Aaaah!”
He flung Ayako back with a plasmatic burst.
“Haruie...!” Takaya shouted as Ayako tumbled to the ground. “You bastard!”
The man’s attack was faster than Takaya’s «nenpa»; quicker than the eye could see, spouts of flame shot out of the asphalt and pressed toward them. Takaya stifled each to extinction with a «wall», but the man was already dashing off again.
“You’re not getting away!”
Takaya whirled and sprang after him, aiming «nenpa» after «nenpa» at the man’s feet. The man shielded himself as the asphalt tore apart in front of him. He turned.
“Damn you...do you serve Kennyo?!”
“Kennyo...?!”
So this was was an onshou! Takaya thought with rising antagonism.
“And if we were...?!”
“Stop chasing me or I’ll kill you!” The man roared, sending flames flashing toward Takaya. Takaya easily tore the attack apart with his will. “I will never allow my family to fall into the Ikkou Sect’s filthy hands! However abject I may be, I am still the commander of my people! Araki Murashige won’t be anyone’s tool any longer! Go tell that to Kennyo!”
(Araki Murashige...!)
Takaya’s hesitation afforded Murashige the opening he needed. When Takaya barely caught the next fire attack, he turned and sprinted away.
“You’re not getting away from me!”
Takaya shot something like a silver arrow from his hand. It buried itself in the fleeing man’s back. Murashige hunched over for a moment, grunting in pain, before launching a massive attack in retaliation.
“Guh...!”
His enemy’s fire-starting ability was phenomenal. The flames now coiling around him, cleaving to him, could never have been produced by nature. Though he shielded himself with a «goshinha», the fire ate little by little into his will until they began to sear his clothes and skin.
“Get...back here...!”
He released all the «power» massed in his body. It whirled like blades, spiraling in midair to tear the fire apart in the blink of an eye.
The man was already gone by the time he caught his breath and looked up. His jacket was singed, and the back of his hands slightly burned, but he had not sustained any major injuries.
(Damn it...)
Takaya glared in the direction the man had vanished into the darkness before turning back to find Ayako.
(Nee-san...)
Takaya found Ayako still seated on the exact spot on the road where he had left her. Beneath the streetlight she looked dazed.
“Are you all right? Are you hurt?”
“...was him...” Ayako muttered hoarsely.
“Huh...?”
“That was him... Just now. The one I’ve been waiting for... that was him.”
“Nee-san?”
“Why...?” Ayako clung hard to Takaya. “Why was he here? I’m sure of it—that was Shintarou-san!”
“Wha? Hey, Nee-san...”
Ayako’s grip on his arms was as desperate as the expression on her face. She pleaded wildly, “What do I do, Kagetora...Shintarou-san, he’s...! That was Shintarou-san! What should I do? I know that was Shintarou-san! Kagetoraaaaa—!”
Chapter 4: Her Beloved's Reincarnation
What the hell had just happened?
By the time he managed to calm Ayako down enough to get her back to the hotel, it was approaching one o’clock in the morning. The Fire Department had probably started their investigation into the university fire by now. He had dispatched the «Nokizaru» to monitor the situation.
Room Service arrived with his requested coffee, and he poured some for Ayako. She had recovered some of her usual composure, and accepted the cup and saucer from her seat on the sofa, but set it down on her knee without drinking.
Takaya leaned against the wall with his own cup and regarded Ayako uncertainly but with sympathy. He finally stated quietly, “...That was not your lover.”
“!” Ayako’s shoulders shook as her head lifted.
“He can’t be. Couldn’t you tell? He was kanshousha, not an ordinary person. And his «power» was considerable...”
“That was him!” Ayako returned sharply. “He was right there! And I resent your insinuation that I would ever forget his face!”
“True, there may have been a physical resemblance, but your lover died two hundred years ago. His body is gone.”
Ayako had no response to that. He had looked so much like her beloved—her Sone Shintarou. The shock of it had thrown her mind into such confusion that she hadn’t even realized that obvious fact until just now.
“Think about it. The resemblance is just coincidence—you get that, right? They’re not the same person.”
“But...” That hadn’t been all, Ayako shook her head. “I...felt him. I felt his soul. The soul in that body was Shintarou’s. I’m certain of it.”
“Haruie...” Pained, Takaya’s eyes slid shut. He said harshly, “You do not have the ability to distinguish between patterns of the soul’s core. It was just your imagination.”
“It was not just my imagination! I might not recognize other souls, but...I know his! How could I not have recognized it? I loved him! I loved him too much to be wrong! I can’t be wrong about this!” Ayako cried.
“Haruie.”
“It was him! His soul, everything! I know it was!”
“...”
She covered her face with her hands as tears slid through her fingers.
Takaya gazed pensively at her. “...If you’re certain, let’s make sure.”
“?”
“I tagged him with a spirit needle. You’ll be able to detect it, I think. Find him. This question has a significant bearing on our case.”
“Significant bearing...? What are you saying? That he has something to do with the Araki Murashige case...?”
Takaya fell silent. He placed a small silvery needle-like object in Ayako’s hand.
“This is what I implanted in him. Watch him carefully. He’ll be back for the mandala.”
“Mandala? What is that?”
“The object he wanted to burn. He failed this time because it’s being protected by the female spirit, but he won’t give up that easily. It must be something that can hurt him. He doesn’t want to be used again.”
“What? What do you mean?”
Takaya hesitated. He closed his eyes and pushed away from the wall. He set his cup down.
“...I know his true identity. You will probably have to «exorcise» him one day.”
“...Why do you say that? Kagetora?”
“I’m going to do some reconnaissance on my own tomorrow. I’ll take a cell phone, so call me if anything happens.”
Takaya left the room with a “good night” over his shoulder. He could feel Ayako’s troubled gaze on his back all the way to the door, and it pained him.
The true identity of the man they‘d skirmished with was ’Araki Murashige.’
Should he have just told her? It might have been the wiser course, but he couldn’t do it. Takaya sighed as he turned the corridor toward his room.
This was the first time Takaya had seen Ayako so distraught. Was the resemblance so very great? At first Takaya had suspected a trap—perhaps a hallucination used by their enemies as a kind of psychological attack, but it did not seem to have happened by design. It would have been possible for Murashige to have planned for this at the moment of kanshou, but what reason would he have had, when he hadn’t even known that they were ‘Uesugi?’
So the greater likelihood was that it had happened by chance—a coincidence.
If so: what irony.
“It was him! His soul, everything!” Ayako had insisted, but she must be mistaken. He was not her lover. Sone Shintarou had been a perfectly ordinary man—someone who could not have performed kanshou, be it immediately after death, or after staying a spirit for many years.
Murashige retained his memory from four hundred years ago; he was a still-unpurified four-hundred-year-old spirit.
And yet Ayako’s desperate pleas echoed in his ears. Was there any chance that he was really her lover, through some means he had not yet thought of? Her vehemence made him want to question himself.
He was worried about her. She was normally so dauntless. What could he do for her now?
But he couldn’t afford to spend so much time worrying about her that he neglected his other duties.
The situation he found himself in was unexpected and confusing, yes. Now was the time to take a step back and evaluate the situation calmly. Step one: ascertain the identity of the female spirit and her connection to the man—Araki Murashige.
Takaya dialed Chiaki as soon as he got back to his room. Despite the hour, he answered the phone so quickly that it seemed he’d been waiting for the call. Takaya immediately started asking about ’Dashi."
Chiaki sighed lightly. “Kagetora, that’s the name of Murashige’s concubine or lady consort.”
“Lady consort...?”
“His wife, dude. Right...if I’m remembering correctly...when Murashige escaped from his castle, Oda took her hostage and executed her along with her whole family at Rokujou Gawara in Kyoto. She was supposed to be this incomparable beauty.”
Dashi-no-kata...
In life she had been called the contemporary Yang Guifei, a peerless and celebrated beauty. She, along with all of Murashige’s blood relatives, had been taken to Kyoto, where her existence had been extinguished at the flash of a sword. Wearing makeup and a brilliantly-colored quilted silk garment, a string of beads in her hands, her eyes closed humbly as she was escorted to the execution stage—it was said that there was such courage in her bearing that those who saw her wept. Even at the very end she betrayed no trace of distress. When her time came, ‘she re-tightened her obi, brushed her hair up, and spread the collar of her garment. Then she sat and bowed to the earth of her execution ground before putting her hands together in prayer and submitting to her decapitation.’ Everyone else followed her example to a truly courageous end: that was record of her execution in the Nobunaga Official Chronicles.
“I see... So she’s Murashige’s wife, huh?”
“I wanna go see the ghost of a peerless beauty, too,” Chiaki mock-whined. Takaya ignored him, focusing his thoughts. The man appeared to be the genuine Araki Murashige, who wanted to burn the mandala that Dashi was protecting. Dashi had said that she wanted to have all her family go to Heaven—‘her family’ being the Araki clan.
“Hmmmn... So they’re the onryou of the Araki clan. Guess you can’t really blame them for that; I’d be more surprised if they hadn’t become onryou, actually,” Chiaki muttered. They had died, after all, in a heinous massacre. It was said that the whole clan of more than seven hundred had been murdered.
How could such an atrocity have happened?
In the 6th year of Tenshou (1578), Murashige raised the banner of revolt against Oda and held Itami-Arioka Castle against his former lord with 15,000 soldiers. The unity of the Araki forces allowed Murashige to mount a fierce and unyielding resistance, and the Oda army lost many soldiers in the siege. Each time Oda attacked the castle, Araki counterattacked with several times the intensity. It astonished even Nobunaga.
Murashige’s aim was to join up with their allies the Mouri and together kill Nobunaga.
But the Mouri never came. Eventually Oda switched from frontal attacks to a long-term siege. It lasted almost ten months. In September the following year, with their supply lines severed and desperation mounting day by day, Murashige made the decision to escape from Itami-Arioka Castle in order to find a way to break the stalemate.
The Saiga at Amagasaki Castle were his allies and could provide a great number of reinforcements. So too were Ishiyama Hongan Temple and the Mouri; once he was out, he could contact their command officers to send troops. His remaining retainers were strongly unified and took an oath of secrecy regarding their lord’s absence. Thus Murashige placed the castle in his wife’s care and headed for Amagasaki Castle with only a few attendants.
Unity was all very well, but fear and suspicion were impossible to hold at bay: had their lord deserted them, run away? The Oda commander Takikawa Kazumasu deftly capitalized on those fears to persuade the Murashige commanders to defect one by one.
The siege was growing increasingly desperate. Yet the soldiers remaining at Itami-Arioka banded together with even greater determination. Their fierce resistance astonished Takikawa, who urged chief retainer Araki Kyuzaemon to ‘surrender Amagasaki Castle and Hanakuma Castle and open the gates.’ These were the terms for sparing the lives of Murashige’s wife and garrison. Kyuzaemon headed to Amagasaki Castle for his lord’s reply.
“I will submit if my wife and garrison are given safe passage here,” Murashige responded, but the commanders of the Mouri, Ikkou Sect, and Saiga turned Kyuzaemon’s company away without allowing him to meet with Murashige. They could not surrender Amagasaki, ‘Mouri’s stronghold in Settsu.’ (It was said that Kyuzaemon then fled for parts unknown.)
Itami-Arioka Castle fell to Oda. Enraged at Murashige’s actions, Nobunaga executed every last Araki prisoner as a lesson to others.
The executions were carried out in three monstrous, brutal rounds. The first two took place at a place called Seven Pines in Amagasaki. One hundred twenty-two women and children died first. Tied to crucifixion stands, they were pierced and shot without mercy by spear and rifle. Five hundred twenty servants and foot soldiers died in the second round. They were crowded into four farmhouses and burned alive.
“The executions are supposed to have started on the morning of December 13th...which means the anniversary is coming up in five days,” Chiaki concluded, finally exhausting his store of knowledge. It was said that witnesses to the executions did not eat for 20, 30 days afterwards, such was the tragedy of the scene.
Thinking of those heinous events, Chiaki sighed. “But there aren’t any stories about onryou from Amagasaki. If they became vengeful spirits and started getting violent, we would’ve heard about it.”
Dashi had implied that these spirits were still here. Yet there were no such onryou from Amagasaki. So where had they all gone?
“Strange that there’s no trace of ’em, isn’t it?”
“... What about the mandala and such? You know anything about that?”
“Haven’t heard anything about it,” Chiaki answered. “Looks like the Ikkou Sect’s gunning for the mandala and the Araki family, huh? And Araki wants to burn it?”
What secrets did this mandala conceal?
In order to figure out the reason for Murashige’s strange behavior, they first had to solve the mystery of the mandala.
“...All right, thanks. I’ll keep investigating.”
“Be careful, Kagetora. Keep an eye on the Shimozuma brothers. Their movements worry me. They’re probably up to their eyebrows in something huge.”
“I agree. We need to hurry and solve this before it gets out of hand.”
“You gonna be all right without me?”
Takaya thought silently for a moment before finally deciding, “We’ll be fine.” He added, “In any case, I’m worried about Yuzuru. Has there been any change?”
“Narita’s fine. The freeze-binding ritual is holding, and I haven’t detected any negative side-effects. Though every time he sees me he complains about how often you take off—I wish you’d do something about that. Well, as long as he’s grumbling at me I guess he’s a-okay.”
“Sorry... I’ll call Yuzuru so he’ll stop worrying.”
He should be the one at Yuzuru’s side. Chiaki, likely mistaking his sigh for a sound of exhaustion, asked, unusually solicitous, “What about you? You okay? You’ve been wearing yourself to the bone lately.”
It pulled a wry, involuntary smile out of Takaya. “...Idjit. Like you worrying about me would make me any happier.”
“Naoe called.”
Takaya started.
“Guess he’s in Osaka right now. Dunno what he’s up to, though. He just asked for news of the Ikkou Sect and then hung up before I could ask him about it. Honestly, he’s scaring me. It’s like he’s on some weird philosophical path; he’s all business. Eh, he’s always had a head for command. I s’pose if his rationality allows him to compartmentalize, that makes it easier for everyone.”
Takaya was silent with the receiver in his hand. But he was not shaken by the mention of Naoe: “...I’ll contact you later. Please look after Yuzuru—” was all he said before hanging up.
Naoe. Melancholy stole over him again as he sat there on the bed. Moping. This is not working, he thought, deliberately driving Naoe from his mind. Focusing on strategy. The mandala and Araki. He would start his own investigation with the mandala. He could dispatch the «Nokizaru» after Murashige; they wouldn’t take long to confirm his location. Sending Ayako after him on her own in that state made him rather uneasy.
(Guess I have no choice but to operate alone this time...)
A partner so emotionally unbalanced did not a good partner make. Alone then, Takaya decided.
(I can’t rely on anyone...)
Then again, hadn’t it always been like that? Takaya thought, smiling bitterly. He hadn’t relied on anyone since junior high.
The familiar face of that clever man floated through the back of his mind again, and Takaya forcefully dismissed it. He kept pushing it away and pushing it away, and yet it kept coming back to him...what in the world was he to do? When he was cold and wanted warmth, why was it his face that he imagined?
(I can’t depend on him,) he told himself, the well-worn words repeated like a spell. He could not ask anything from such a selfish man. If he wanted nothing but a business relationship with Takaya, so be it. It would, in fact, be a relief for Takaya.
(I won’t ask him for anything.)
If Naoe had moved on, wasn’t that all to the good?
(I won’t...ask for anything.)
The clock next to the bed blinked 2 A.M.
Ayako didn’t think she could sleep a wink tonight.
Lost in thought, she was still on the sofa where Takaya had left her, cradling the silver needle he had given her in her hand. Finally, she picked up her jacket, tucked her helmet under her arm, and left the room.
A lone cupful of cold coffee sat on the table.
In the morning Takaya set out on his investigation. Since he and Ayako were splitting up, he was stuck on foot. Damn, but he missed his bike.
In the past he‘d have simply picked out one parked nearby and ’borrowed’ it if he’d felt the urge; at this stage in his life, though, he didn’t want to continue to engage in illegal activities. In the end, having failed to come up with a better plan, he used hypnotic suggestion to obtain transport (as it turned out, his methods hadn’t changed much). He chose a suitable mark—er, lender—from the parking area in front of the station. It was even easier than he’d imagined with hypnotic suggestion, and he was soon climbing boldly onto the motorcycle right in front of its owner’s eyes.
(This is turning into a bad habit...) he thought even as he turned the borrowed Honda CBR towards Kyoto University.
Takaya’s usual ride was a Suzuki GSX, but he’d trained on a Honda CBR, and he wasn’t worried about the handling. No vehicles were allowed into the area around last night’s conflagration, and he reluctantly left the motorcycle at the closest spot and went on foot.
The on-site investigation would apparently resume later in the day. Word among the students was that the authorities suspected arson.
(It certainly was arson.) Takaya thought, looking up at the building in question. (She’s there...)
It seemed the spirit of ‘Dashi,’ whom he’d met last night, intended to stay with the mandala. So what now? He thought about his options as he leaned back against a wall. Ayako and the «Nokizaru» would hold down Murashige, so the problem was the Ikkou Sect. How would they make contact?
(So I can’t do anything but wait?)
Of course, it wasn’t as if his standing around meant he was doing nothing. He had entrusted the «Nokizaru» with obtaining information about the Ikkou Sect’s movements. It was just that Takaya himself was here, awaiting an opportunity.
There was movement a little before eleven.
Around twenty minutes ago a hired car had stopped before the entrance-way, and a short-statured, white-haired old man had alighted and entered the building. With his checkered business suit and his rather idiosyncratic look, he might have been a fence for the Yakuza. There had been movement in the vicinity of the research room where the fire had taken place immediately thereafter, and several people who appeared to be affiliated with the university came down with the old man and got into the waiting car.
Takaya noted that the old man was holding a long narrow wooden box wrapped in cloth—which had not been in his possession when he’d gone up.
(That’s...!)
His spirit sight showed him ‘Dashi’ following behind the old man, looking as if she wanted to say something to Takaya. The old man climbed into the car, and ‘Dashi’ disappeared as if sucked into the box.
Was he taking it away? Takaya hurriedly returned to his motorcycle and gave chase to the old man’s hired car.
(Where is he going?)
The car left the campus, took a right at the Higashi-ichijou intersection, then headed north at the Hyakumanben intersection .
Tailing them on the bike, he wondered if they were members of the Ikkou Sect—but from this distance, at least, his senses told him otherwise.
(What are they going to do with the mandala?)
The car left the urban areas, turning toward Northern Hill. Judging by their direction, they were headed for Kurama .
Some time later, Takaya noticed a dark blue BWM tailing them at an unobtrusive distance. It didn’t feel like a coincidence.
(Is it following that car?)
Apparently so. The car turned onto a mountain road. Takaya and the BMW followed. Takaya glanced at it in his rear-view mirror before extracting a human-shaped charm from his back pocket.
“On beishiramandaya sowaka...”
He visualized the Sanskrit character of Bishamonten onto the charm as he chanted. Then he flicked up his wrist and tossed the charm upward. The charm caught fire in midair, and the ‘Gohou Douji of the Sword’ emerged from the flames.
The golden-skinned boy clad in a thousand swords ran ahead, chasing after the old man’s hired car. Takaya chose a narrow portion of the road and braked violently.
“...!”
The motorcycle came to a stop across the road, forcing the BMW to brake abruptly in turn, narrowly missing the bike. Takaya stood blocking its way, glaring. Two men who looked like middle-aged businessmen climbed out.
“What the hell are you doing? Get out of the way!”
“What do you want with that car?” Takaya demanded brusquely. “Or is it the mandala that you want?”
“...Who are you?!”
“You’re possessing spirits, aren’t you?” Takaya remarked after a quick spirit-sensing. “Who do you serve? The Ikkou Sect? Or...”
The two men responded with an attack. Takaya’s «goshinha» deflected the rain of projectile will. “That’s your answer, then...?!”
The men increased the violence of their «nenpa» onslaught. Fighting alone, even Takaya had some difficulty holding them off. But if they thought he was going to back down, they had another think coming.
“You can’t even touch me!” he mocked, joining his hands in ritual form.
(bai)!
The two men were immediately paralyzed. Takaya continued chanting:
“Noumakusamanda bodanan baishiramandaya sowaka.”
“Aaaaaaagh...!”
(So they do belong to the Ikkou Sect...!)
The Ikkou Sect’s mighty Amitabha creed had the power to thwart the power of «choubuku». Even now he could see Amitabha’s protection beginning to cover the two men. If he let them continue, things could get hairy. Takaya focused his concentration once more.
“Namu Tobatsu Bishamonten! For this subjugation, lend my thy power!”
The two men desperately invoked “Namu Amitabha” again and again. But Takaya’s power won out.
“«Choubuku»!”
Light flashed from Takaya’s fist to envelope the two men still chanting the name of the buddha, hiding them from view. It tore the spirits out of their vessels and carried them off to the other side.
(Looks like they were after the mandala after all,) he thought, glaring sharply ahead. He calmed his breathing and sped off after the car.
The old man’s destination was Mt. Kurama and the famous Kurama Temple, the first temple built on this mountain, a place written of in the Legends of Ushiwakamaru. On the other side of the mountain was another famed locale, Kibune Shrine, amusingly known as Kyoto’s inner parlor.
The small station near Kurama Temple held a line of souvenir shops but few other establishments. It was quiet.
The old man stepped out of the car in front of Niou Gate and took a cable car going up to the main hall.
Amazingly, the Gohou Douji’s spiritual power surged the moment the old man entered the temple grounds. The faith of this temple was called the Heavenly Lord Creed, and it worshiped the Demon Lord, Bishamonten, and the Thousand-armed Goddess of Mercy as three aspects of the Heavenly Lord. As one of the principle idols of Mt. Kurama, Bishamonten’s power was especially strong here, and so too was that of his adherents. As a result, Takaya could not only view the temple through the Gohou Douji’s eyes, but see the entire grounds as clearly as if he were looking upon it himself.
Rather than continuing upward into the temple, Takaya took a seat on a stone stair next to the Niou Gate and focused on his mind-meld with the Gohou Douji.
The old man visited the Honbou Kongou Jumyouin, perhaps to seek out an acquaintance. After an interview in a tatami room with an old monk who appeared to be a personage of some rank, he gave the mandala into the custody of the younger monk accompanying him.
(That’s it, then...?)
Takaya got a good look at the mandala as the monk opened the box. Though old, its colors were still magnificent.
(Corpse-hair...mandala...?)
Takaya could hear everything that the old man said to the monk. That the hair woven into the mandala belonged to Araki’s family. And that ‘because of its history, it carries a curse. A curse which was the cause of a recent fire.’ He wished to give the mandala to the temple for safekeeping, and requested that a memorial service be performed before a buyer was found for it.
The monks accepted. The old man joyfully left the corpse-hair mandala to them and hurriedly departed.
(I guess he’s an antiques dealer or something...)
The old man descended after about 15 minutes, passed next to Takaya on the stone stairs, and got back into his car.
(I need some background on him.)
Takaya straddled the bike and set off again in pursuit.
The old man returned straight to his shop, a small store of some years facing Gojou Avenue . The sign read ‘Agi Antiques.’
(I was right...)
Takaya surveyed the shop from the shadows of a nearby pedestrian bridge. So the mandala was merchandise. It had probably been at the university for a scientific appraisal.
(Huh...?)
Some time later, a suspicious-looking car drove right up to the storefront. Some men in business suits stepped out. The first to appear looked like a subordinate. The next alighted from the back with easygoing grace: a man in his forties. Takaya’s eyes widened.
(That’s...!)
Takaya strained to keep him in sight. There was no mistake.
Shimozuma Rairen: the Ikkou Sect’s strategic commander and Kennyo’s right arm. They once faced each other in Toyama over the Sayuri affair. The «Nokizaru» had informed him of Rairen’s arrival here in Kyoto.
The big-shot had appeared at last.
He had changed since their last meeting. Not externally, but...
(He’s performed kanshou...)
He had finally made his possession of this body permanent—as some part of a larger plan, perhaps, or as a precaution against Takaya and company.
Rairen entered Agi’s shop along with his subordinate. They had not noticed Takaya. Fearing for the old man’s safety, Takaya was about to make his move, when—
“Kagetora-sama,” a voice called from a red RX7 which had stopped behind him without him noticing. Its driver, a gaudily-dressed young woman with long bleached hair, peered out at him. ‘What the?’ he did a double-take before he realized on closer examination that it was the «Nokizaru» he’d sent out on investigation.
“You’re following Rairen?”
“Yes.”
The woman got out of the car and came to stand next to Takaya. Her outfit left nothing to the imagination. It was way too weird to call someone like that «Nokizaru», Takaya thought with a feeling of surreality, but asked instead, “What are they planning? They’re not going to blackmail the old man in there, are they?”
“It appears that Rairen plans to purchase the corpse-hair mandala from that antiques shop.”
“Purchase the mandala?” Takaya made an odd face. “We’re talking about that old man’s mandala, right? What do you mean, they’re going to buy it? Do you know why the Ikkou Sect even wants it?”
“I’m still investigating the details,” the woman demurred. “The mandala is apparently necessary to Rairen for military operations in Amagasaki in five days.”
“Military operations in Amagasaki?”
“They are going to make Araki Murashige a human pillar.”
Takaya made an even odder face.
“Human pillar? What the...? What the hell are they planning?”
“According to a source who managed to infiltrate the group in Osaka, he refused to be used as such and took flight.”
“Araki Murashige...” Takaya frowned. In the old days, so-called ‘human pillars’ were people who were buried as sacrifices to ensure the successful construction of castles and bridges. During the Sengoku Period, such sacrifices had been made in some places at the start of castle construction. A female spirit they had exorcised just recently had been the human pillar of Marugame Castle.
“But I don’t understand. Are they planning to build a castle or something, after making Murashige a human pillar?”
Their objective was unclear, but one puzzle had been solved, at least: why Murashige had been trying to burn the mandala. It was easy to understand Murashige’s actions if he thought that the existence of the mandala meant he would be made a sacrifice.
But on the other hand, why would a mandala made of hair from Araki’s family make Murashige a human pillar?
Murashige’s words echoed in the back of Takaya’s mind.
“I will never allow my family to fall into the Ikkou Sect’s filthy hands!”
(What did he...)
“Rairen will apparently use any means necessary to obtain that mandala for the battle,” she confirmed.
Rairen had been searching for the object in question with all the might of the Ikkou Sect behind him for half a year, locating it at last a week ago. But the interference of the guardian spirit ‘Dashi’ had foiled the strong-arm tactics of the sect’s followers.
“So now they’re trying to buy it. Rather strange behavior, coming from them. Not to mention unusually prudent,” Takaya sighed.
But their use of legal methods meant that Takaya’s hands were tied. Screwing up an intervention could very well mean that they ended up being the ones breaking the law. The Ikkou Sect, unlike most other onshou, excelled at adapting and integrating into modern society.
“They think nobody will complain just because they’re buying it with money? Who knows where the money is even coming from?”
“According to Rairen, they will be meeting with the owner and drawing up the contract for the sale tonight.”
“Tonight, huh...?”
Takaya glared in the direction of the shop, thinking. Allowing Rairen to get ahold of the mandala was obviously a bad idea. Any plan that called for so disturbing an element as a human pillar could not lead to anything good. Well then.
(How do I stop them?)
The second day of the Kyoto conference had passed without incident.
As they headed back to the hotel, Naoe relayed communications from the company. A tired-looking Hazama seemed oblivious, his gaze absently focused on the trail of passing headlights. The day’s discussions on collaborative enterprises for the rebuilding of the company had been rough going.
“You’ll be meeting with Agi and his guests next...”
“Hmm? Oh, right,” Hazama responded, finally rejoining the conversation.
“There was a phone call from Agi earlier regarding the fire at Kyoto University last night. It broke out from the room where the mandala was kept. The cause of the fire has not been determined, but arson is suspected. He has moved the mandala as a preventative measure, though he did not disclose its new location.”
“I see,” Hazama responded, nodding quietly. “I suppose it really is no ordinary mandala. If the buyer is serious about the sale, I should be prepared to go through with it as quickly as possible. My own safety is at stake as well.”
“Director...”
“I won’t allow myself to be low-balled, of course.”
The car arrived at their hotel. They’d arranged to meet with Agi and the buyer in the first-floor lounge at 8:30, and they still had a little time.
“I’m going to take a shower and clear my head for the negotiation. Come get me when it’s time,” Hazama said, and returned to his own room.
“This is where the sale’s gonna take place?” Takaya muttered, looking up at the hotel.
Takaya had tailed Agi and Rairen from the shop to this building, a hotel near Horikawashio Lane . Takaya alighted from the RX7 and followed his targets through the front entrance.
“Wonder what he’s like, the owner of the mandala.”
“He’s the CEO of a company based in Osaka,” The «Nokizaru» answered, rejoining Takaya after parking her car in the parking lot. “His company is on the verge of bankruptcy, so he’s selling his collection of antiques.”
“Hrm. Nice timing.”
Agi and Rairen turned toward the lounge on the left and were shown to a table set for four. The other party had yet to arrive.
Unnoticed, Takaya and the «Nokizaru» chose seats by one of the entrances and kept an eye on them as they ordered.
(And then there’s...)
Ayako. She had him worried. She had not contacted him, and had refused to answer when he’d called her.
(Did something happen...?)
“Their appointment is for 8:30. The seller should be here soon,” the «Nokizaru» said. Takaya looked at his wristwatch. It was 8:30. He turned a peevish look on the woman next to him.
“I don’t really care how you do your job, but did you have to choose someone that flashy? You stand out way too much.”
“Ah...”
“Why would you possess anyone so sleazy-looking? At least have a little taste.”
“Are you not pleased by her?”
“I don’t even know how to look at you. I mean, your chest— Where’d you find her, anyway?”
The «Nokizaru» became flustered at her master’s sudden displeasure. He appeared to find her objectionable.
“I...I will take better care next time.”
He could smell her perfume. She was the kind of idle woman who‘d ’spend a night’ with Naoe, he thought, growing angrier by the minute.
“Kagetora-sama. Over there,” the «Nokizaru» pointed out two men chatting amiably as they headed toward them from the elevator hall. One was a well-built man in his sixties who looked very much like a “CEO”; the other, a young man in a dark suit perfectly fitted to his tall frame — likely his secretary.
(Wh...!) Takaya couldn’t believe his own eyes. (That’s...)
That’s ridiculous, he thought, staring. The man in the dark suit, with that too-familiar expression full of intelligence and sagacity, in overly close conversation with the older man—
(—It looks like him.)
It should be the last thing on his mind. He could not be here. And yet it couldn’t be anyone but him...!
Naoe suddenly looked straight at him as he entered the lounge. Shock stopped his feet dead.
(Naoe...!) Takaya almost called out. (Why!)
“What’s wrong?” Hazama peered at Naoe quizzically as he stood staring at Takaya. Immediately recalled to himself, Naoe turned to Hazama.
“It’s nothing. Let us proceed, Director,” Naoe answered, wrenching his gaze away from Takaya.
(He...!) Takaya’s eyes narrowed sharply. Naoe followed Hazama inside. (Why is he here, of all places?)
Anger overtook doubt in Takaya. The «Nokizaru» interrupted, “Kagetora-sama, they’re...”
“...!”
Hazama and Naoe had joined Agi. Takaya was more confused than ever.
(What the hell?)
“Well, here y’all are! My thanks for coming today. Take a seat, take a seat. Ah, you must be the new secretary I’ve heard so much about,” Agi said, peering at Naoe.
Hazama grinned with open pride. “My secretary Tachibana. You’ve spoke with him on the phone, I believe...”
“Hah, right, right!”
Naoe presented his business card. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Tachibana,” he said politely. Then he turned to the other man.
Rairen and Naoe’s eyes widened at the same time.
(That’s...!)
They both stopped breathing for a moment, but neither made a sound. Noticing none of this, Agi continued to make introductions.
“This is Watanabe-san, as I mentioned on the phone. He’s expressed an interest in purchasing the mandala...”
For his part, encountering one of the Uesugi here was well outside of Rairen’s calculations. Why?! He wanted to grind his teeth, though he immediately hid his agitation. His outward composure remained absolute in front of Hazama and Agi.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you; I am Watanabe.”
So that’s why, Naoe thought, perceiving now the reason for Takaya’s presence here. He must have followed Rairen here on his own investigation.
Still: Shimozuma Rairen. So there was a connection between Murashige’s rumored flight and the corpse-hair mandala after all?
(Is the Ikkou Sect after the corpse-hair mandala?)
Rairen smiled a barbed smile at Naoe and said politely, “A pleasure to meet you.”
His serenity could not conceal the sharpness of his eyes: a strategist’s eyes which ever concealed its true objective. A guarded Naoe stared back at Rairen quietly yet with challenge.
The negotiations began.
Chapter 5: Tiger's Eye
They left the lounge at about 9:30.
Their business concluded, Naoe politely suggested that he see their guests to the hotel entrance. Hazama was about to head up to his room when Agi invited him for drinks in the bar upstairs. Despite Naoe’s prudent reproves, Hazama decided to keep Agi company, saying they had a lot to catch up on. In the end Naoe gave it up as a lost cause.
“In that case, please excuse me,” ‘Watanabe’ said as he parted from the pair. Naoe accompanied him to the entrance. There he finally reverted to ‘Shimozuma Rairen:’ “I never imagined that our next meeting would be in such a place, Uesugi.”
“I could say the same to you.”
"I received a report that we lost several of our own today, but the cause eluded me...now I see. Uesugi involvement means that I shall have to make a few adjustments to my plan.
Naoe replied carefully, “...We will stop you.”
“You can try.” The shrewd-eyed Rairen seemed inclined to banter. “Although...we are disposed to settle matters with Araki Murashige quietly. He will not be so lucky as to escape us a second time. May I suggest, therefore, that you leave him to us rather than messing about with affairs that are none of your concern?”
(Araki Murashige...)
Naoe’s expression darkened. Chiaki had told him about the Ikkou Sect’s hunt for Murashige. Did he have something to do with the mandala, then?
“Our war with Oda grows increasingly violent. Only by winning can we stop this fighting. Tell this to your lord: the Kinai belongs to us. Stand aside. There is no room for you on this battlefield.”
Rairen’s car arrived as he finished speaking, and he climbed in. Before he drove away, however, he gave Naoe a cold, thin smile, an expression utterly foreign to his vessel. Naoe watched grimly as the car departed the hotel.
A moment later, a red RX7 slid smoothly out of the parking lot to his right and followed. Naoe looked away from its tail lights to where Takaya stood watching him wordlessly. Naoe dropped his eyes slightly and stepped toward him.
Takaya said nothing; he only glared with naked anger at Naoe as he approached.
“...They‘ve drawn up a contract,” Naoe pronounced abruptly, breaking the silence. “I wondered what dirty tricks they would pull out of their sleeves, but the transaction was, in the end, entirely mundane. Since no laws were broken, I saw no opportunity for intervention. I suppose the saying ’There’s one law for the rich and another for the poor’ is apropos here. In any case, it seems the Ikkou Sect has gained a rather good understanding of the reliance this society has on money. They’ll be making the cash exchange here at the hotel tomorrow.”
There was no change in Takaya’s expression. Naoe smiled faintly, extracted a cigarette from his pocket, and placed it in his mouth.
“You’ve had that displeased look on your face since the lounge earlier. I take it something is bothering you?”
An enraged Takaya tore the cigarette out of Naoe’s mouth before he could light it. How dare he smoke in front of Takaya? Naoe regarded him gravely.
“What’re you doing here?”
“I could ask the same of you.”
“I asked first. Answer me.”
Naoe only chuckled.
“Why didn’t you stop Rairen? What do you know about the mandala? Are you really gonna just let it go?”
“It’s a perfectly legal transaction; we can’t interfere.”
“So you’re just gonna stand aside and watch? Have you forgotten what you are? You are one of the Uesugi.”
“One of the Uesugi...?” Naoe repeated dryly. “A title I can’t even add to my résumé. I risk my life to exterminate onryou and earn not a penny for it. I’ve lived for four hundred years for a philanthropic enterprise. What rare simple souls we are.”
“Naoe.”
Naoe laughed at Takaya’s aggravated tone. “Why so angry? Are you upset because I took independent action? Or is it...” he smiled maliciously, “...the fact that I’ve found someone else to serve that sticks in your craw?”
“...!” Takaya’s face flushed as Naoe’s words hit their mark. The emotion smoldering in his chest since the lounge earlier—Takaya finally realized that it was called ‘jealousy.’
(That’s not...!)
—true, he wanted to deny. Jealous? Why should he be jealous? He inwardly shoved away the thought. Yet what else could he call this pique for the interest Naoe extended to another?
It was childish, Takaya thought, indignant at himself and even angrier at Naoe for noticing. His pride would not allow him to acknowledge it.
“Don’t change the subject.” Takaya feigned coolness in order to conceal his humiliation. “That’s not what I asked. I want to know why you’re with the mandala’s owner. Is it coincidence? Or did you anticipate Rairen contacting him?”
Naoe only looked down with a faint smile. “You’re blustering... It’s written all over your face. Are you sulking just because your pet dog is playing with someone else? How like a small child you are.” Takaya’s face stiffened. Naoe regarded him coolly and continued, goading him deliberately, “He’s a good man, the Director: someone you can have confidence in, someone you can rely on. His ability and talent raise him above the crowd. A certain person of my acquaintance could afford to learn by his example.”
“...Are you staying I can’t be relied on?”
“It is the followers of a incompetent leader who suffer.”
Taunted beyond endurance, Takaya violently seized Naoe’s lapels and hauled him forward. “—You wanna say something, just come out and say it. You’d rather work for him than me, is that it?”
“...You’ve been smoking, haven’t you?”
Takaya’s hold loosened at the unexpected rejoinder. Naoe immediately grasped his hands in turn and pulled him closer.
“Stop it. I told you alcohol and cigarettes are bad for children.”
“That hurts... let...go...!”
“Stop making a scene.” Naoe curled an arm behind Takaya and pressed Takaya, struggling, against him. Given their physical differences, it was easy to Naoe for restrain him. He refused to give an inch to Takaya’s attempts to free himself.
“...Gnnh...”
“...Look at how powerless you are. All your struggling: useless. Yet as soon as someone offers you their submission, your arrogance knows no bounds. Just who do you think you are?”
“...You wanna talk about arrogance? Speak for yourself...!”
“You’re not a woman, are you. Although...” Naoe chuckled, “no queen could be so haughty as you.”
“...Ngh...guh...”
Naoe pinned him as if he were a recalcitrant child. He looked up at Naoe with eyes full of rage: wild, sharp, glittering eyes.
“Tiger’s eye...” He stared into them directly at close range. “That ferocious radiance which brings the whole nation to its knees. Your eyes are the true evil eye.”
“...Shut...up...”
“I’ll seal that arrogant mouth.” Naoe’s lips drew closer to Takaya’s. Takaya frantically turned his face away, and Naoe nibbled on his earlobe instead.
“...What...what are you...”
“I want you.”
“That’s...not funny...”
“Don’t start pretending to be a good little boy now. You waited for me because you were hoping for this, weren’t you? I’ve been too busy lately to seek out women for sex. I’m starving for it...”
Those provocative words murmured right into his ear inspired anger rather than shame in Takaya. The obscene words didn’t arouse him, for they were meant to hurt him. Takaya strained with all his might to tear himself away from Naoe’s warm chest, but the other man refused to give an inch.
“...I won’t...forgive you...for this!”
The hot breath at his ear sent tremors through his muscles. He resisted and fought to pull away, but Naoe held on tightly, keeping them locked together.
“I’ve devoted my body and my heart to you, have I not? A master should compensate his subordinate. It’s about time you gave me my reward.”
“I’m not giving you...any money...”
“I don’t want money.”
“I have nothing to give you!”
“And I don’t need anything...” Naoe whispered into Takaya’s ear. “I don’t expect anything of you.”
“!”
Naoe suddenly grabbed Takaya’s chin and plundered his mouth. Takaya unthinkingly slapped him in the face.
“You...mongrel bastard!” Takaya spat, violently freeing himself from Naoe’s grip. Panting, he let loose with a stream of profane rage: “Enough with the self-pitying bullshit! I don’t know what’s gotten stuck in your craw lately, but how dare you get so full of yourself just because I lighten up on you a little! I don’t have the time to act out this bad-boy drama with you, you fucking idiot!”
“Bad-boy drama...?” Naoe glanced up at him. “You think this is play-acting?”
“What would you call it, if not play-acting?! This...insane...”
Naoe met the mortification and rage in Takaya’s eyes, his own face expressionless. He asked tonelessly, “Shall I show you how serious I am, then?”
Takaya’s shoulders quivered. Naoe seized Takaya’s right arm and pulled him by force toward the hotel entrance.
“What are you...! Naoe!”
He dragged Takaya through the hotel without either consent or concern for appearances. He jerked Takaya into the elevator and unhesitatingly punched the button for his room on the sixth floor. Takaya gulped down his dread at this hitherto unseen determination from Naoe.
Naoe opened the door to his room and thrust Takaya inside with heedless violence. Takaya staggered and went to his knees on the floor.
“You...!”
“You wanted to see for yourself how serious I am, didn’t you?”
Naoe slotted his key card into the internal lock behind him before approaching.
“...I’ll teach you how serious an adult can be.”
Naoe easily caught Takaya as he ran for the door. He violently tore Takaya’s jacket off and threw him roughly down on the bed. Takaya bounced and immediately tried to get up, but Naoe pinned him by the shoulders. Takaya glared up at him through his fear. Naoe smiled faintly.
“Are you afraid? Is it because you’re a man that you refuse me?”
“What are you talking about...?”
“Why don’t you become a woman, then?”
“...!”
Takaya arched, trying to dislodge the chest pressing down against him. Naoe gripped Takaya’s hands and locked them tightly together above his head, holding him down on the bed with his right hand. Takaya struggled but could not get free.
“Nao...”
“It’d be simple. In fact, I could use my power to give you permanent possession of a woman’s body right now—someone whose face and form match my tastes perfectly. There would be no one more voluptuous or beautiful.”
“You... Do you even know what you’re saying?”
“That would eliminate all our problems, wouldn’t it? You would take me into you right here on this bed, your hips writhing, your long hair tangling on the pillow, your body the picture of debauchery, screaming your gratification to the world as you’re driven mad with the agony of it... What an erotic image you would make. I’ll teach you the pleasures of perversity, and you’ll delight in it, shameless masochist that you are.”
“Is...” Takaya yelled, holding back tears, “is that how you really feel?”
Pain flashed across Naoe’s face, and for a moment he averted his gaze. Takaya gripped the sheets tightly, eyes wide with rage. Naoe smiled faintly.
“...You’ll understand once you try it.” His lips moved to the nape of Takaya’s neck. Takaya jerked his face aside. A wet tongue touched his skin. The tip of Naoe’s tongue licked fluttering stripes from the spot behind his ear to the back of his neck, tracing the path again and again. He tried to twist his trembling body away, but he could not escape Naoe’s implacable hold.
“Ah...!”
Naoe’s unoccupied left hand traced the line of his leg up to his clothed groin, where he gently began to rub and stroke. Takaya tipped his head back, teeth tightly clenched.
“Stop...it...”
“Let’s not have the innocent act now. Not when you like it so much.”
“Stop...touching me...”
“It feels good to be touched, doesn’t it?”
Takaya struggled wildly, face scarlet with humiliation. But Naoe refused to let him go; his caresses grew all the more urgent as Takaya writhed wildly, desperately holding back the sounds threatening to escape from his throat.
“There. I can feel you responding. Look how honest this little boy is. It’s itching to be played with.”
“Stop...!”
“Are you sure it’s ‘stop’ you want, and not ‘more’? I know you came here with me because you wanted this.”
“...Aaa....gh!”
His legs trembled. His body arched again and again, chasing after the pleasure Naoe’s caress brought him. He gripped the fingers of Naoe’s hand where they pinned down his wrists.
“No...! I...I never wanted...Who would...”
“There. Little Takaya is saying, ‘I want to come out and play.’”
“Ah...you demon...!”
All the while, Naoe’s skillful hand moved back and forth gently between his legs. His obscene fingers finally eased down Takaya’s zipper and stole inside. Takaya exhaled hotly. In a deliberate attempt to obliterate his reason by way of mortification, Naoe leaned close to Takaya’s ear to murmur heatedly, huskily:
“...You fit so perfectly into my hand... But your right xx...is just slightly...xxx...I think...?”
Takaya squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. He couldn’t take it any longer!
Edged sparks suddenly erupted in front of Naoe’s eyes.
“Guh...!”
He jerked back and reflexively shielded his face, but he wasn’t quite quick enough. It ripped a horizontal gash into his shirt sleeve and cut a bloody line across his skin.
“...”
Takaya sat up, panting wildly, unable to bear Naoe’s obscene actions for an instant longer. His entire body shook with rage. Tears ran down his face.
“You bastard...I’ll never forgive you for this!” he spat with a profound hatred he had never before felt for the man in front of him. “You sure fooled me! I’m a idiot for being taken in by a filthy good-for-nothing like you!”
“It’s true—you are an idiot.”
“I never want to see you again!”
“Fine.”
“You’re a pervert and an asshole! Go and drown yourself in your suffering, go commit whatever crimes you like, go die in a ditch, see if I care!”
Naoe closed his eyes and turned his face away.
“You drag me into your mess, your anguish and your tears, the stupid things you say like ‘I love you’ and ‘I want to hold you’ and—and I don’t even know!—and then you go and do these crazy things! So I’m not Kagetora—so you think you can disrespect me? You think you can trick me with a bit of phony kindness, take advantage of my weakness...and then throw my trust back in my face...?! You’re the biggest coward I’ve ever met!”
Naoe was still as a statue, his face averted. Takaya clenched his fists, tears sliding unabated down his cheeks.
“I’m such an idiot, I can’t believe I was worried about you. I can’t believe I wanted to try and understand you. Go to hell! Why would anyone want to make sacrifices for someone like you...?! I’ll never be able to understand you! Why in hell would anyone want to save you?!”
“...You...really don’t understand anything, do you...?”
Takaya’s head jerked up. Naoe looked at him, his eyes quiet and terrifyingly still.
“How each of your words is...a blade proclaiming your victory... You don’t even realize it, do you...?”
“—Wh...”
“You have never tried to understand me. All you do is slap me down, flaunt your power to force my submission, demonstrate that I could never exist apart from you. It was never your intention to give me anything. Why should I allow myself to be understood? Why would I ever want someone like you, ungracious even in victory, to understand me?”
“Victory...? What are you talking about?”
“My ribs are cracked open, as befitting the defeated. Look upon my despair: does it please you? Does it give you so much pleasure?”
“No! This isn’t about winning or losing...!”
“No? And what of earlier? You were not satisfied until I obeyed you. You think obedience is your due. Whatever the paths we take, our relationship will always be confined within these boundaries.”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”
Intent sparked and swelled in the depths of Naoe’s expressionless eyes.
“If you really want to know, why don’t you let me show you...?”
“...!”
“If you want so much to understand the pain of the vanquished, the agony of he who loses to you again and again and yearns for you ceaselessly, whose chains you hold so tightly that he is unable even to choose even the bliss of a shared death with you...”
“Naoe.”
“I will...make you understand me,” he declared quietly, flinging his jacket onto the bed. As he loosened his necktie and unfastened the line of buttons down his chest, he gave the mute Takaya a look approaching pity.
Was it fear that had stricken the words from his lips and frozen him in place? A small, weary smile curved Naoe’s lips.
“If only you hadn’t sealed your memories away.”
Takaya slowly shook his head, gaze fixed on Naoe. Naoe mimicked the movement, a rebuttal.
“Yet even without your memories, you continue to triumph over me.”
“...”
“You shouldn’t have appeared now.”
“Naoe—...”
“Do not test my loyalty.”
He quietly pressed a kiss to the nape of Takaya’s neck and then buried his face there, scenting his skin. His mask quietly fell away. All pretense at evil and hypocrisy were cast aside; Takaya’s breath hitched to gaze on Naoe’s true self.
“Tell me,” Naoe whispered, voice choked with grief, on the edge of breaking, “why did it have to be me...? You would’ve been happier with someone else, wouldn’t you...? It could have been anyone. So why me?” The low words were a plea. “It could have been someone capable of loving you without feeling so much agony. Why couldn’t it have been someone else’s vanquished luster you claimed for your own...?”
“Naoe—”
“I hate you...”
Takaya’s eyes went wide. Naoe closed his eyes tightly against the pain.
He never stopped thinking about it. If only his feelings were unmixed—a pure love deep and profound: how happy he would be. Happy, even if that love were unrequited.
But to know him...was to know pain.
Naoe’s captivation was inevitable, for this being before him was Naoe’s ideal personified; he was perfection itself. And yet.
To gaze upon him was to confront his own deficiencies, all the faults he wanted to deny. To look away was impossible, for he would blaze with ever greater splendor. The brighter he shone, the more deeply Naoe felt his own pettiness. He could not look away even as he was forced to accept the affront to his self-esteem.
He might even call it masochistic, but Naoe was incapable of looking away. That was how beautiful he was.
(Amadeus—...)
He was the Amadeus to Naoe’s Salieri: the destined victor, the one who would become ‘legend.’
What choice did Naoe have but to prostrate himself before a glory that engulfed everyone around him? See how that light claimed everything for itself. Some sacrificed themselves to it of their own volition, others haplessly. The foolish few went kicking and screaming like Salieri, committing countless mistakes along the way. For these mediocre talents dragged along in the wake of genius the world spared but a moment’s ridicule before turning their gazes back to the Adameuses, the great ones who shone so brightly that they could not be ignored.
Venus’ bright glow looked all the more striking for the dimness of the stars behind it. To Venus...those stars were nothing but a sacrificial backdrop.
Those who recognized universally-adored Amadeus‘ brilliance and willingly sacrificed themselves for him, who could do so without feeling disgrace—who might even feel supremely blessed: how happy they made themselves! Salieri, on the other hand, was a man who could not abandon the idea of himself at the center of the world. His jealousy, pettiness, and obstinate pride made him a fool and laughingstock. Unable to acknowledge his own fault in his humiliation, his resentment curdled into a deep and scorching hatred, but to nevertheless be unable to gain ascendancy over his rival: this was what it meant to be truly ’defeated.’
Ah, yes. There was no such thing as ‘a hate so endless it approached love.’ It was true hate Naoe felt for him and true love, each real and distinct. Two violently opposing feelings burning with the same heat for one man. Ripping his chest apart with the same force. Making his torn flesh, his blood, his very cells scream. Plunging his body into flames with no way out. He writhed in hellfire.
I love you with the passion of my hate.
The one whose feelings for you are stronger and go deeper than anyone else’s is also the one who has lost the most to you.
My screams never reach you. You could never understand them even if they did. Winners and losers are separate species. The former are a threat to the latter, the latter hate the former. You could never understand my pain. I don’t want your pity. This is the last ledge of my resistance. Yet it is your understanding I wish for above all.
Why must I resist you? Why can I not force myself to throw it all away and prostrate myself before you? Why, though I love you so desperately...!
I want you to at least know this existence.
The existence of he who is the most abject of your victims.
I want to be allowed to tell you that you hurt me more than you hurt anyone. I want to be allowed that, at least. If you will not allow me even that, then I no longer know where to turn for salvation!
“I want to be done.” Tears streamed from Naoe’s eyes. “I don’t want to give you up to anyone.”
“...”
“I want this...to be over...”
Naoe bowed his head and said nothing more.
(There is nothing I can do...)
In that instant Takaya understood the meaning of those words deeply, profoundly.
No one would save them...
‘With effort you can accomplish anything’ was a bare-faced lie. He felt his own inadequacy keenly, for here before him was a man who no longer had any hope in Takaya.
Naoe had placed his trust in Takaya, and Takaya could not save him. This, Naoe had always known.
How could he be anyone’s ideal? Takaya didn’t understand it. How anyone could use the word ‘perfect’ to describe him—how he could be a threat to someone like Naoe?
It was true: Naoe knew his faults and weaknesses were countless. But there existed in the world those who could transform even their shortcomings into ‘brilliance.’ There was a beauty possessed only by those who acknowledged their own cowardice and fragility and refused to look away; they were the ones gifted with the strength of an uncompromising standard...
Such was the being who personified Naoe’s own ideal shape, standing here before him... How beautiful were the ones who endlessly struggled against their own weaknesses—and then...
To a coward like him, who yearned to give up the struggle, the very existence of such radiance was a threat. There was no end to pain: that was the message, and it flattened him.
Defeat...here at perfection’s feet, absolute defeat.
The source of charm was not possession of something others lacked, but possession in a vastly greater quantity. And so: he was a husk. And so: defeat.
He could not escape...
If he were loved, that would be nothing more than compassion.
Naoe looked again at the dazed ‘beloved victor’ beneath him.
“...I want to win against you.”
It was the only thing he wanted, surely...
He desired nothing more.
Naoe’s hand slipped beneath his clothes. Takaya only realized what was happening at the touch of a cold finger against his nipple.
His pain was unaffected by hypocrisy.
Takaya was mortified by his own inadequacy. He could not help Naoe. He was ashamed of his fixation on being ‘Kagetora’s substitute.’ Naoe saw in him something much deeper, far more real, far more vast than Takaya’s own perception of himself.
The sense of being hated was not a delusion. He was the one Naoe had entreated and the one who had refused to save him. There was one person Naoe wanted to merge with more than any other; he was also the one person in the world who could not offer Naoe union or fusion. That person, Takaya had come to realize, was himself.
“Nnn...” Takaya turned his face away. His shoulders trembled. Naoe’s hand grew bolder, more fervent. He caressed Takaya’s supple teenaged body with single-minded focus. “Naoe...!”
“I don’t care anymore,” Naoe insisted to himself as much as to Takaya. He would know ease if only he could cease his struggling. Let him smother that tiny blaze smoldering in a soul wild with despair. If only they could both discard their attachment...!
Naoe impatiently unfastened the buttons down Takaya’s torso and tore off his shirt. He covered Takaya’s naked chest with kisses filled with a savage, curse-deep passion. Takaya’s resistance was ignored, his clothes peeled away.
“Why are you doing this?!” Takaya cried.
Naoe himself had no explanation. Even he could no longer tell why.
“I want to throw it all away...I want to feel nothing!” Naoe spat, his voice a hopeless cry. His caresses teased Takaya’s body, violent and unbearable.
“A...aaaah!” Takaya screamed. His struggled in vain. His arching, thrusting body transformed the man on top of him into a beast. “Wait!” he entreated, but there emerged from his throat only hard panting and wild gasps for air.
“I will kill you with my embrace...violate you with this body!”
“Wait... Naoe...!”
“I’ll destroy it all! Break everything, wreck it all...change everything!” The words were a vomited torrent of pain. Naoe lifted Takaya’s legs. “I’ll tear it all apart!”
Something pinged in Takaya’s mind. Naoe’s earthy male scent dragged a memory out of its deep recesses.
“Ah....aaah...aaaaah!”
All-encompassing terror descended on Takaya. The feeling of hard straining muscles—the scent...of a man pressing down against him—a strong wandering hand—forceful limbs pinning him sturdily in place—one or many or all of these things had acted as a trigger, dragging the hideous past from the depths of his memories into light.
(No...I...!)
Takaya shook his head in denial. But the memories surged into his mind one after another, swallowing up his consciousness: brawny hands pinning him down with all their might—sand rubbing roughly against his skin—the roar of waves—a pine branch half-concealing a red moon..
“Aah...”
He heard the breathing of several men. His body was being torn apart by shame, disgrace, humiliation, disgust... Reality faded into waves of memory into insanity. Reason fled. It was unbearable...!
“Nooooooooo—!” The scream burst out of Takaya’s mouth.
Startled, Naoe jerked back. “Takaya-san.” He had not realized that Takaya had turned his face away, that he was pushing desperately against Naoe’s chest with both hands.
“Why? Why now...?”
“Takaya-sa—”
“These memories... Why did I have to recover these memories?!” he screamed.
Naoe looked at him with surprise.
These abominable memories belonged to Kagetora. He had once been gang-raped. It was one of the events that lay at the root of his deep-seated mistrust of others. This was the piece of his forgotten past that he had just recovered.
“Kagetora-sama...”
Nothing made sense anymore. Why did he have to be here like this? Why did he have to have such things done to him?
“...”
Naoe reached out a hand as if to touch his hair, but he slapped it away, hard.
“I don’t want your sympathy!”
Naoe’s face stiffened, but a moment later it softened. His expression held both compassion and resignation. It left Takaya at a loss.
Naoe looked away. He rose, picked up his jacket from the floor, and slid it on.
“...Please go. I should have known you are not someone I can ever hold in my arms.”
“Naoe, I...”
“I am a horrible human being; what I want to do to you would exceed even those deeds you fear in cruelty. You would find it unbearable. Please go.”
“...”
Takaya stared dazedly at Naoe’s back. Had the last dregs of his conscience stopped him? Naoe buttoned his open shirt. It was as if, Takaya thought, he were also closing the tiny opening he had allowed in his heart.
As if he would never open it again.
If they went their separate ways now, would Naoe ever show Takaya his true self again? Would his heart ever return to Takaya, now that he had decided to break the bond between them? Would he ever look at Takaya again?
What lay behind this restlessness?
He couldn’t bear this distance between them.
He craved their bond.
For Naoe to look at him as he always had.
To look? No, he wanted more than that. His hunger went deeper.
(I want him to look only at me—...)
Takaya froze, fear trembling through his muscles. He felt as if he had caught a glimpse of the bottomless and forbidden desire buried deep in his own innermost heart. The depth of the darkness there terrified him.
(I...)
“...”
The phone suddenly rang, tearing apart the long silence. Takaya’s shoulders jerked in surprise. Naoe glanced at him calmly—then, keeping his movements controlled and deliberate, went to the phone and answered.
“Yes, hello...?”
Takaya couldn’t hear the voice on the other side.
“...No. He’s not here... What? What did you say?”
Tension suddenly filled Naoe’s voice. Takaya looked askance at him. “Yes...yes. I understand, I will go immediately.”
He set the receiver down and swiftly, coolly fixed his clothes. No trace of passion from just minutes ago remained; while Takaya looked on with bewilderment, he had already picked up his card key, ready to leave.
Takaya hurriedly asked, “What happened?”
“It appears the Director has left on his own.”
“Huh?”
Naoe took a trench coat from the closet. As he stuck his arm through a sleeve, he explained: “He received an urgent call, said goodbye to Agi, and left by himself. ”
“Urgent call from whom?”
“I don’t know. I have to go after him,” Naoe responded in a business-like tone, and rushed out of the room.
Agi was waiting for him in the lobby.
“How long ago did the Director leave?”
“’bout ten minutes. I didn’t like the strange look he had on him, so I called you...”
“Did he call for a car? Who...”
“Are you Tachibana-sama?”
He turned at the sound of his name, and the bellboy came over to hand him a folded piece of white memo paper.
“Hazama-sama asked me to give this to you.”
“The Director...?”
He took it and opened it. There was a hasty scrawl in ballpoint pen.
“I’ve been summoned by our friend. Maruyama Park.”
Naoe’s countenance turned grim. Was ‘our friend’ the man who had attacked him in that Osaka hotel?
(Damn it—...!)
“What is going on here?!”
“He was called to Maruyama Park. I believe the Director is in danger. I must go after him immediately.”
“I’ll go with you. They want the mandala, and they’re threatening Shige. Am I right?!”
“Agi-san.”
“They must‘ve set the fire at the university, too. I’m the only one who knows where it’s at. I ain’t lettin’ anything happen to Shige. So I’m comin’ along!” he insisted.
Naoe could only accede to the old man’s obstinacy. They hurried into the parking lot, heading for the dark green Windom. As he was about to get into the passenger seat, Agi sensed someone behind him. He spun. It was Takaya, who evidently intended to accompany them. He gestured for Agi to take the rear seat and claimed shotgun for himself. Takaya ignored Agi’s dubious look. The earlier wildness had disappeared from Takaya as well.
“I‘ve lost the ’energy’ of the «Nokizaru» I sent after Rairen. They probably noticed and dealt with her.”
“«Nokizaru»? The woman who was with you earlier?”
“Yeah. Revenge for earlier, probably. But the Ikkou Sect aren’t the only ones after the mandala.”
“What?”
“Araki Murashige’s looking for it too. If he’s the one who placed that call to your director, his life could be in danger.”
Naoe exhaled in realization. “Could he be...!”
“What’re you talking about? What’s all this about the Ikkou Sect and Araki Murashige? I’ve got no idea what y’all are saying.”
“We gotta move. Drive.”
Naoe stepped on the gas. The Windom left the hotel behind and slipped into the stream of traffic on Horikawa Avenue. They took the right at the intersection and sped toward Maruyama Park.
They remained silent, feelings concealing once more. As they passed Sanjuusangen Hall, Takaya glanced behind them and muttered, “We’ve got company.”
“Who?”
“Probably Rairen’s guys. My guess is they’ve been keeping tabs on gramps back there.”
On the back seat Agi’s eyes darted between the two of them, bewildered by their conversation. “Who are y’all, seriously? I thought you were Shige’s secretary.”
Takaya shot a quick glance at Naoe’s profile. Naoe kept his eyes front, ignoring him completely. Takaya stonily glared out the front windshield.
Translator’s note: The “xx” are in the original text, in case you were wondering. I’m not censoring anything!
Chapter 6: Winter Sakura
The large sakura tree, winter-bare, lay desolately exposed under the light of a street lamp.
It was nearly eleven. Hazama pulled his coat collar tightly closed against the cold wind and looked from his wristwatch to the road. ‘Meet me beneath Maruyama Park’s weeping sakura,’ the man had told him over the phone. ‘There is something I wish to discuss with you.’ His tone had been courteous.
(It was probably unwise to have come here alone,) he thought—he had made himself an easy mark.
Shortly thereafter the man appeared: a fearless-looking young man of average height wearing a half-length black leather coat, the same person who had attacked him in the Osaka hotel. A recently-acquired scar ran from his temple down his cheek.
“What do you wish to discuss with me?” Hazama spoke first. For a moment there was silence. The man fixed a grave, intense gaze on him. Hazama added, “The mandala has already passed into other hands. Nothing you say now will be of any account.”
“...!”
“Even if you continue to threaten me, you will never get your hands on it.”
Hazama detected the man’s face tensing minutely beneath the streetlights. He braced himself for an attack, but to his surprise the man abruptly dropped to his knees there on the asphalt. “I beg of you...!” he said. “You do not have to return the mandala to me. Just burn it! Destroy it and throw it away! I will do anything. Please!”
“Wh-what are you talking about?”
“Entrapped within that mandala are the spirits of a great many people who hate me. If they are set free, I know not what horrors will befall me. They will make of me a human pillar! Therefore burn the mandala, that those spirits may never emerge!”
A surprised Hazama stared at the kneeling man—Araki Murashige. Was this a ruse? he wondered. Yet he was convinced of the man’s sincerity.
“Are these your true intentions, Araki Murashige?”
“!”
The other voice had come from behind Murashige. Murashige gasped as several shapes emerged from the shadow of the tall sakura tree into the glow of the streetlight.
“Shimozuma Rairen...!”
Hazama’s eyes widened. Among the men approaching them was the buyer of the mandala, whom he had met just hours ago: the man who called himself ‘Watanabe.’
(Who are these people?)
Rairen cast a sidelong glance at the confused Hazama as he coolly took off his hat and pushed up on the silver frame of his glasses with an index finger.
“You dare run from us, Murashige. You’ve eluded us for a month, but I knew you would show yourself to this man—that you would come for the mandala. Does the thought of becoming a human pillar terrify you so? Would it not be just recompense for your past deeds?”
Murashige glared fiercely at Rairen.
“I will never be your tool. You would sacrifice me and use me as bait to lure the spirits of my family into fighting for you. I will never allow that to happen!”
“Obstinate knave.” A cruel smile curved the corners of Rairen’s lips. “Even resurrected, you are as much a coward as ever. You abandoned your entire clan, ran from your castle and left more than seven hundred people to their deaths for the sake of your own hide. Do you not think they would want justice for your crimes? Be a man and face your punishment, Murashige.”
“As if you have any right to say that to me!” Murashige retorted. “I’m not going back! I will never go back to you!”
“...You are a disgusting excuse for a man.” Rairen’s underlings stepped forward at his gesture. Murashige faced off against them like a cornered wild thing. “Seize him!”
“Piss off, Rairen!”
Murashige’s «nenpa» was scattered in the blink of an eye by Rairen’s will. His three followers instantly seized the opening.
Murashige was surrounded before he could react. The «nue» attacked simultaneously with silvery plasmatic bolts from three directions.
“Guh...!”
Chains of strangling will coiled around Murashige’s body. The bound man cried out in anguish. But the more he struggled, the more the chains cut into him. Then—
Something like an electric shock crashed into the plasmatic strands, snapping them apart.
“What in the world...!”
“As if I’d let you have him!” Ayako appeared from back of the the flowerbeds.
The «nue» immediately redirected their attack at this new enemy.
“Too slow!”
Ayako repelled their «nenpa» with a strong «wall». She landed a direct hit in return, knocking them to the ground. She kept them there with a barrage of «nenpa» as she rushed over to Murashige.
“You’re the woman from last night...!”
“Geez. Don’t assume I’m helping you out because you’re so pitifully out-gunned here, ’kay?”
Ayako turned to confront Rairen directly, keeping Murashige behind her. This was the first time they had come face-to-face. Concealing his wariness behind a cool exterior, he queried in his distinctive sonorous baritone, “You are kanshousha. Where do you hail from? I would know your name.”
“My current name is Kadowaki Ayako. My old name was Kakizaki Haruie: a vassal of the Uesugi. How about that, huh?”
(Uesugi...!) Murashige inhaled. He had thought she belonged to the Ikkou Sect. This was unexpected.
But Rairen only narrowed his eyes slightly. “You are one of the Yasha-shuu, then. I did not know there was a girl among their company.”
“You’d better not treat me lightly because I’m a woman, or you’re gonna regret it. I’ve been a red-blooded woman for two hundred years.”
“A fight between us would be utterly senseless. For both our sakes, will you not peaceable depart and return Araki Murashige to us?”
“...!”
Ayako had no room for denial now that Murashige’s identity had been confirmed so clearly. She glanced at the man behind her. It wasn’t as if his suspicious behavior hadn’t aroused misgivings, but...
(This man is Araki Murashige...)
Takaya had asked her to ‘make sure’ because he’d known. All her convictions were now overturned. It threw her badly, but Ayako could neither flee nor deliver this man to them. She stood her ground.
“This man is under our protection. I don’t know what you’re scheming, but I’m not handing him over!”
“I will only ask you once more. Give Murashige to us.”
Sensing the upsurge of Rairen’s ‘energy,’ Ayako readied her own «power».
“How about you monks act your part and go pray to the Buddha!”
“You condescending...!”
Thus began the opening shots of a grand «nenpa» battle. Ayako shot bolt after bolt at Rairen in rapid succession with Murashige still shielded behind her. Rairen clenched his teeth and wrung every last drop of «power» out of himself.
“...!”
Ayako flinched back from Rairen’s concentration of «power», startled. She quickly hardened the «shield wall» around them, but the attack was much more potent than she imagined.
“Aaaaah!”
The psychic bomb beeped and exploded in a direct hit against Ayako’s «shield wall». Several shards of will pierced through and struck her.
“Waugh...!”
The explosion also engulfed Hazama, standing only a short distance away. But someone else’s will shielded him an instant before it touched him.
“Director...!”
Naoe and Takaya sprinted toward them.
“Haruie!” Takaya yelled. Rairen’s fierce attack had caught Ayako alone. Takaya immediately covered her while Naoe kept his shield on Hazama.
“Damn you...Uesugi!”
Apparently Rairen did not judge three against one to be good odds. He concentrated, gathering his «power» for another immense strike, though this time as an intimidation tactic.
The psychic bomb exploded right in their midst.
“Guh...!”
The blast swelled, blinding them. The «nue» came to and rejoined the battle. Takaya held them off alone, yelling to Ayako, “Haruie! Hurry and «exorcise» him!”
“What?” Ayako shouted, deafened for a moment by the fierce sounds of fighting.
Takaya erected a «goshinha» around himself against the rain of will and repeated: “Didn’t you hear me? I’m telling you to deal with Murashige...!”
“Deal with...? Kagetora...”
“You know now that he’s not your lover, right? So hurry up and finish him! Without him, the Ikkou Sect’s entire scheme collapses!”
“You think I will allow that, Uesugi!?”
Rairen gathered all his power with Takaya as his target. But just before he could release it, Naoe’s counterattack from one side smashed directly into him, delivering a terrible blow.
“Graaaaaaah!”
“Hurry, Haruie! «Exorcise» Murashige now!” Ayako stood frozen, wavering. “I’m commanding you, Haruie!”
(I should have known...damn you...) So this was what they had in mind for him. Murashige’s face twisted with rage, and he whirled and ran.
Ayako turned, shouting, “Wait!”
“Shit! Naoe!”
Naoe immediately understood and aimed an attack at the disappearing Murashige’s back.
Ayako jolted. “Don’t, Naoe!”
Her will struck Naoe’s straight-on, stopping it in its path and triggering a huge explosion.
“Haruie...!”
Ayako shielded Murashige as she amplified the blast wave. Then she took off running after him.
A savage light flashed across Takaya’s eyes. He readied himself to deliver a blow that would stop the fleeing figures in their tracks. —Which was when Rairen and company attacked him from behind.
“Dammit! Fuck off, Rairen!”
“You’re the ones in my way, Uesugi!”
Rairen would not allow Murashige to be «exorcised». They committed themselves to a defensive battle, blocking Takaya and Naoe’s way until Murashige and Ayako had disappeared completely.
“You assholes... Now I’m pissed...!”
Takaya focused his power—and set everything loose in one murderous blast.
“I told you to fuck off—!”
Lightning zigzagged across the ground toward Rairen and his following, destroying everything in its path. They covered themselves with the strongest «wall» they could build.
The collision of energy was so massive the entire area was engulfed, the explosion uprooting and tossing trees around like matchsticks, caving in the asphalt and flinging gravel high into the air.
It took some time for the destructive supernatural storm to pass. When it finally died away, Takaya and the others had disappeared.
“Damn you, Uesugi...”
Rairen and his men had weathered the storm by flattening themselves to the ground. Rairen rose in the midst of utter destruction. Burning sakura trees put forth thick billowing smoke.
“Damn you... How far will you go to obstruct us?” he snarled.
The injured «nue» finally regained their feet and approached their leader. “Rairen-sama, how should we proceed?”
“Go after Murashige immediately. Capture him.”
“What of the Uesugi? If we simply leave them be, will they not finish off the onryou sealed within the corpse-hair mandala? Should we not take measures against them...?”
“Indeed,” Rairen said, casting a cold glare northward. “I have entrusted the corpse-hair mandala to Rairyuu and Shichiri. Do not interfere. How completely they spurn us...when next we meet I shall teach you a lesson, Uesugi.”
Takaya and Naoe managed to get back to the car with Hazama in tow. Naoe carefully bundled him into the back seat.
“You okay, Shige?” Agi peered worriedly into his face.
He bore no conspicuous wounds—had only been grazed. But he looked at Naoe with the eyes of someone who had seen what he should not have seen.
“Tachibana. Who exactly are you? What happened back there?”
Naoe climbed into the driver’s seat and stuck the key into the ignition without response.
“All this nonsense about Araki Murashige and human pillars—I don’t understand any of it! What on earth is that mandala? What did he mean, that a great number of human spirits are sealed inside it...?!”
“!”
Both Naoe and Takaya whipped around to stare at Hazama.
“There are spirits sealed inside the mandala? That’s what they said?”
“That man said something about a lot of angry spirits being trapped inside that thing. And that he didn’t want to be a human pillar, and if the spirits are freed horrible things will happen to him. That’s why he wanted me to destroy it immediately. It was pure babble to me.”
Naoe looked significantly at Takaya, and he scowled. The spirits in question were almost certainly Araki’s clan.
(So the Araki onryou are imprisoned inside that mandala...)
No wonder they weren’t at Amagasaki. The Ikkou Sect wanted to get their hands on the mandala because they wanted the Araki spirits. And they wanted to make Murashige a human pillar...to have the spirits attack him?
(But for what?)
What was Rairen planning to do with them ‘at Amagasaki in five days?’
They would not find their answer here. Naoe faced forward and started the engine. “I will take you back to the hotel. We’ll take it from here.”
“That is not an answer, Tachibana. You’re working for me, you’re my secretary: you’re not free to take arbitrary action. Now answer me.”
“...”
Takaya glared at Hazama over his shoulder. Naoe said as if in an attempt to cut Hazama off: “You need to conserve your strength for your decisive battle. You must not endanger yourself further. Please entrust this matter to us.”
“Us...?”
Hazama stared at the senior high school student in the passenger seat as if noticing him for the first time. Takaya looked down and away, not meeting his gaze. He faced forward and said, “We’re going to Kurama Temple, Naoe.” It was a command, and it was a staking of his position. “That’s where the mandala is.”
“What? How did you know that? Were you the one following me this afternoon?”
So Agi had noticed Takaya tailing him. Takaya ignored both Agi and Hazama’s questions.
“Looks like their aim is the ‘contents’ of the mandala. It would be better to «exorcise» them all rather than allow them to be abused for someone else’s gain.”
“Don’t tell me you’re gonna burn the mandala! It’s precious merchandise! It’s worth 50,000,000 yen!”
“We won’t touch the mandala itself. Our aim is the Araki clan onryou sealed inside. You’ll still be able to sell it for your 50,000,000 yen once we’ve emptied it out.”
“...!”
“’Sides, if the thing’s no longer haunted, you won’t be committing fraud by selling it.”
Hazama inhaled sharply. Expression tense, he looked suspiciously from Naoe to Takaya.
“You two...”
“You can stop playing secretary and bodyguard, Naoe. I’ll tell the «Nokizaru» to protect him. Good job, well done.” Naoe’s shoulders twitched. A cold smile curved Takaya’s lips. He added as if for Hazama and Agi’s benefit, “A pet dog can’t change its own master, can it...?”
“...!”
“You poor thing.”
Hazama looked at Naoe with surprise. But he could detect no hint of defiance in his profile.
“Tachibana...”
Naoe cast his eyes downward. He made no response to Takaya, only began to drive. Hazama’s doubt morphed to anger as he focused his gaze again on Takaya. He could not see Takaya’s lowered expression, so could not know there was a small smile on his lips.
The Windom headed for the hotel.
After returning Hazama to the hotel, Takaya and Naoe made for Kurama Temple with Agi. It was almost 12:30 AM when they arrived, having completed the trek on foot. The Honbou was quiet and still; the monk Eishou, the acquaintance Agi had met with yesterday afternoon, was summoned.
“You’re here for the mandala...?” He had listened curiously to Agi’s story, and now went into the back room with a courteous, “Please wait.” He returned a moment later with the object in question.
In the meantime, Takaya stood intently watching the road from the plaza in front of the main temple building. The night air here in the mountains was cold enough to pierce his skin. The silence was so deep it hurt his ears, the pure mountain ‘energy’ pressing down against him with an almost tangible and overwhelming force.
But Takaya seemed unmoved by its intensity. Rather, the mountain’s finely-honed aura was a balm to Takaya’s senses. The ‘energy’ here was Bishamonten’s own divinity.
“Araki Murashige must be extinguished immediately,” Takaya stated, sensing Naoe’s approach.
“Extinguished?”
“He’s an onshou kanshousha; leaving him would lead to nothing good. We have to consider the Ikkou Sect as well: they can’t be allowed to use him. Therefore: extinguished.”
“He is kanshousha. To «exorcise» him, we must kill him.”
“...Then we’ll have to kill him.”
Naoe quietly looked up at Takaya’s unfeeling response. “You...have changed, Takaya-san.”
“...”
"Until not so very long ago you trembled at the loss of each and every life; I never imagined I would hear the word ‘kill’ from your lips.
Takaya did not turn. His eyes slid shut. His brow pulled down sharply.
“You’ve become cruel...”
“Someone’s gotta make the hard decisions or more people will die. That’s just reality, no matter how much you whitewash it.”
“Yet you will not soil your own hands.”
Takaya’s chin jerked up as if Naoe had struck him. The plain and emotionless words had cut him to the quick.
“You refuse to do the deed yourself. You direct another to commit the crime, allow it to stain their hands, yet insist on the cleanliness of your own. You compel the cruelty you despise from others. He who never dirties himself can pass his life quite happily, can’t he?”
“...”
“What an arrogant...cowardly person you are.”
Takaya had his arms wrapped around himself. His fingers tightened slightly as Naoe’s quiet blade slid home.
“Murashige’s vessel...looks very like Harurie’s former lover, doesn’t he?” Naoe commented, and added, emphasizing the words, “Haruie will not kill him.”
Takaya did not question Naoe’s conviction. He glanced over his shoulder at the other man.
“You saw it too, earlier, did you not? When I attacked Murashige, Haruie attacked me. She would never kill him.”
“Then it’s gotta be you.”
Naoe lightly swallowed his words. What arrogance in his lord to issue such a command immediately after suffering Naoe’s censure.
“If Haruie interferes, take her out as well. Allowing Murashige to live will only lead to greater tragedy in the future.” The ruthless words were spoken with serene, sober, sagacious equanimity. “I order you to kill if necessary. Destroy Murashige. Remove anyone who interferes. This is my command.”
“...”
“You can’t disobey, can you?”
Naoe’s fists began to tremble minutely. His hatred welled up, mushroomed in the blink of an eye; it was out of his control in an instant. His impulse shattered the frozen air.
He wrapped his arms around Takaya from behind.
Takaya recoiled. A sound forced itself out of his throat; his voice cracked. The embrace was not one of affection. Naoe’s right hand circled around to Takaya’s hip while his left pressed hard against his throat.
“Guh....” Takaya moaned in pain, tilting his chin. His eyes slid shut.
His cold hand wrapped against vulnerable flesh, Naoe brought his lips to Takaya’s ear and whispered, “I want to kill you...right here...right now...!”
He meant it. But there was no struggle from Takaya, no hint of anguish. He even seemed to enjoy the threat of Naoe’s arms around him. He lithely wrapped his right arm around Naoe’s head and pulled him toward his faintly parted lips to murmur: “Then...kill...me...”
The provocative words stole the strength from Naoe’s hands. In that moment he saw that what he held was not a man, but a fierce white tiger with fangs bared. The blood-lust drained from his fingertips.
Takaya quietly began to tear Naoe’s fingers from his throat one by one.
Naoe stood frozen in place. Only ‘horror’ remained to him.
Takaya slowly turned his head and laughed at him with scorn. “You poor man...”
He was captivated by the cruel dictator’s beautiful smile of triumph. Naoe knew. This was the tiger’s perilous provocation that drove the ‘man’ in him mad.
But though he felt it even now, that seething, burgeoning defiance was already lost to him. He was empty, drenched in defeat; the hand at the beast’s throat softly dropped to his side.
Whatever he did was futile: nothing could touch this man.
At last Agi and Eishou approached from the Honbou. Takaya’s expression reverted to its cold austerity. It was as if he had already forgotten everything that occurred mere moments ago.
In Agi’s arm was the box of paulownia wood containing the mandala.
“This is the corpse-hair mandala.”
Takaya extracted it from its container in rolled form. He quietly unfurled it on the stone paving. Agi illuminated it with a flashlight, revealing a gorgeous Womb Realm Mandala with the Dainichi Buddha enshrined at its center. Encircling him were various deities, bodhisattvas, and gods. It was beautifully designed and richly detailed, as strikingly colorful and vivid as if it had just been completed.
“This is the portion which appears to have human hair woven in.”
The area indicated by Agi was the ‘Center Eight Petal Hall’ depicting Dainichi Buddha surrounded by eight divinities within the petals of a scared lotus. It was difficult to distinguish in the uncertain light, but now that the old man had pointed it out, Takaya did feel a difference in the threads there.
“There’s a lot of power here.”
It must have taken an extraordinary monk a considerable amount of power to seal the hundreds of souls therein—much more than an ordinary mandala would have required. Otherwise those souls would have broken free a long time ago.
“Releasing and «exorcising» these spirits is going to be more trouble than I thought...”
How fortunate that they were making the attempt at Kurama Temple: they could borrow as much divine power from Bishamonten as they needed.
“By what means will you release them?” The question came from Eishou, a young monk perhaps a year or two past 30. His tonsure suited his face as well as his physique did the warrior-monk tradition unique to Kurama Temple. “I find it difficult to imagine even a holy fire would work.”
“Not without half-killing yourself. But she knows how to open the door,” Takaya said, pacing several steps away.
A moment later the mandala began to radiate a pale wafting smoky light which flickered and finally coalesced into the figure of a woman. She was an indistinct smudge to Agi, but Eishou and Naoe understood.
‘Dashi’ was the light in the darkness.
“Honestly, burning or otherwise destroying it would‘ve been easier, but...” Takaya said to the ghostly ’Dashi,’ “you don’t want that, do you?”
‘Dashi’ made a gesture of agreement, and Takaya began to gather his «power». These spirits had been denied purification due to their entrapment. The power of «choubuku» was capable of sending them to the ‘other side.’
‘Dashi’ told them how to open the door.
Takaya formed the ritual gesture and began to chant Bishamonten’s mantra. The sense of exaltation descended much more quickly here. He felt a moment of perfect completion as the spiritual power of the entire mountain responded to him, filled him from his interlocked fingers to the tips of his toes. A sphere of white light appeared in his hands, a statue-like figure of Bishamonten flickering within it like fire. He passed it to his right hand and raised his glowing fist up high.
“Barrier: descend!” he shouted, and threw Bishamonten’s sacred sphere high up into the air. It split into four and streaked away to the mountain’s four cardinal points.
“Fuse!”
Takaya’s spiritual energy expanded rapidly; the fallen spheres flared as if in response and enclosed the entire mountain within a dome-shaped barrier. Shield complete, the next step would be to release the spirits and perform kekkai-choubuku.
In reaction to the augmentation of its spiritual forces, the mandala slowly, slowly unfurled its own great sacred energies until it floated up into the air as if in agitation.
“Good heavens!” Agi exclaimed in amazement, looking like he was ready to topple over any second.
The mandala glowed with a pure light of such beauty that it may well have the power to wash clean the heart of anyone who gazed upon it. A wonderful scent wreathed around them. The light transformed into a seven-colored wheel.
“Naumaku sanmanda bodanan abiraunken!”
Takaya drew a gigantic (a), shuji of the Womb Realm Dainichi Buddha, in mid-air. He continued:
“Naumaku sanmanda bodanan nan naku sowaka—!”
Still chanting the mantra of Houtou Nyorai, he drew the shuji of the eight divinities encircling Dainichi within the eight petals in the order they appeared on the mandala. Kaifukeou, Amida, and Tenkuraion followed Houtou. Their glowing shuji hovered in the air like the afterimage of flames. Takaya went on drawing the next symbol and the next with flowing precision.
Agi watched from the side with wide-bulging, wondering eyes. Eishou followed Takaya’s undertaking breathlessly; he knew what monumental patience, energy, and focus such delicate work required. The Womb Realm mandala branched into twelve main rooms. Aside from the 9 divinities depicted within the Center Eight Petal Hall, there were also the 7 of the Hall of Encompassing Knowledge, the 5 of the Hall of the Wisdom Kings, the 37 of Lotus Hall, the 33 of the Hall of Vajrapani, the 29 of the Hall of Shakyamuni, the 25 of the Hall of Manjusri, the 9 of the Hall of Sarvanivarana-Vishkambhin, the 9 of the Hall of Ksitigarbha, the 28 of the Hall of Ākāśagarbha, the 8 of Susiddhi Hall, and the 205 of the Outside Vajra Hall—a total of 404 divine beings. He didn’t recite the mantras of the deities of the outermost Outside Vajra Hall (most of them outside the heavenly portion), but the entire enterprise still took close to an hour.
Close to the finish, Takaya’s exhaustion was obvious.
(He can’t go on like this...) Naoe thought.
His energy expenditure vastly outpaced his estimate, a testament to just how difficult opening the door to the mandala was. Even if Takaya succeeded in releasing the spirits, he would have no energy left for an exorcism. True, they would have the Bishamonten of Mt. Kurama to aid them, but they would also be facing hundreds of angry violent spirits.
(Will he be able to pull off «choubuku»...?)
There might be two of them, but how far could he follow? Naoe began to gather his power for the coming tempest. They had only one chance at kekkai-choubuku. There would be no re-dos. If they failed, if they blundered, the situation would be dire indeed.
Takaya was overestimating his own strength, Naoe thought.
Still gathering his power, Naoe breathlessly awaited his moment.
In the end he would do what he had to do. But could he? Even as he prayed to Bishamonten, somewhere in his heart there remained the impulse to pulverize that unbending self-confidence Takaya possessed in such abundance.
In reality, however, he had miscalculated.
Takaya reached for his last remaining power as he steadily completed the mandala there in the darkness.
This was the key: the mandala replicated in shuji created with his own spiritual power.
His consciousness grew hazy as he completed the last symbol. Even so, he mustered his will to form the ritual gesture of Dainichi Buddha and repeat his mantra like a last loop of thread to tie off his work.
“Naumaku sanmanda bodanan abiraunken!”
An intense light formed as if squeezed from the palms of Takaya’s hands. He quietly pressed them together in prayer position. Then he thrust his hands straight into the center of the shuji mandala...!
Naoe jerked to attention. Takaya’s face went taut with effort. Then, with a motion like he was shoving open massive sliding doors, he pulled his hands apart.
“!”
Light surged.
A blast of wind hurtled from the opened door along with a violent, monstrous energy.
“Aagh!” Takaya cried, tumbling backwards. Naoe barely managed to catch him. Ghoulish moans swelled from the other side of darkness, overflowing...
(They’re coming!)
Naoe stepped forward to meet them. He shoved Agi behind him protectively and shielded Takaya with his own body. The violent energy bulged forth.
!
Its fury was terrifying. A dark eerie wind howled out of the mandala and swirled around them, transforming into a raging, wailing storm that mowed down the trees around them. The onryou materialized in front of the mandala door in a black cluster.
“...Guh!”
Naoe poured all his strength into his «wall of protection». Takaya clung to Naoe reflexively. This was the harrowing power of onryou locked away for four hundred years, their festering hatred wrecking an ecstasy of destruction as if they were reveling in their sudden freedom. No one could stand against the ferocity of this tempest. The Mt. Kurama main temple moaned against the furious blows. Tiles flew from the roof, and trees all over the mountain whipped around in a frenzy.
“Let me go, Naoe! We need to «exorcise» them!”
“I’ll do it! You’re too drained!”
“You can’t take on all of them alone!”
Naoe ignored him. He struggled upright and formed Bishamonten’s ritual gesture.
“Noumaku samanda bodanan baishiramandaya sowaka!”
Takaya immediately mirrored him. The onryou, sensing danger, commenced a defiant and determined attack. Naoe and Takaya stood firm.
“Namu Tobatsu Bishamonten! For this demon subjugation—...!”
Takaya shivered. Something felt different—something was off.
“Look out...!”
The spirits took advantage of their distraction to charge at them; Naoe attacked them with «nenpa». Takaya gasped and came back to himself. He looked up and aimed an «exorcism» at the spirits attacking them from behind.
“Ari nari tonari anaro nabi kunabi... (bai)!”
But the onryou didn’t disappear! They rammed violently into Takaya instead.
“Aaaah...!”
“Kagetora-sama!”
He flew backwards and tumbled to the ground.
(What...the...hell...?)
«Choubuku» wasn’t working.
(That’s impossible!)
A tangle of two, three spirits attacked Takaya. Takaya gathered his power once more, but again «choubuku» did nothing!
Takaya hurriedly «shielded» himself. The onryou slammed against it and glanced away in a flash of plasmatic light, scattering. Naoe, too, felt the strangeness. He immediately rushed over to Takaya and layered his shield around Takaya’s, strengthening it.
“These onryou are unusual. Someone...is protecting them!”
“Protecting them?”
“Only one opponent can render our «choubuku» ineffective.”
(The Ikkou Sect...?!)
It can’t be, Takaya thought, turning. Within the frenzied dancing onryou stood a man in the robes of a monk: Eishou...no—the man who had taken his appearance!
(No—!)
“You realized too late, Uesugi!” Shimozuma Rairyuu shouted out of Eishou’s lips. He stood with calm elation in the midst of the raging onryou with the corpse-hair mandala in his hand.
“You have my thanks for releasing the Araki Clan spirits. They are under Amida’s divine protection! Your hideous heretical power has been rendered useless!”
“Damn you...!”
“My brother sends his regards!” Rairyuu shouted, flinging an arm wide. “Now I’m done playing!”
An even more terrible power assailed the Uesugi. As they endured the onslaught, Takaya felt the barrier around Mt. Kurama sustain an attack from the outside.
“Ugh...!”
None of his desperate efforts to strengthen it were enough. An enormous power bore down against it.
“I do believe Shichiri and his men have broken through. You have no moves left. Resign yourself to being eaten by Araki’s dead!”
“...Go fuck yourself!”
The onryou attacked in a massive clump. Naoe poured his power into his «shield wall». The onryou slammed into it at full force, scattering sparks. Naoe held on desperately, to no avail; the «wall» shattered beneath the ferocious assault. Takaya’s counterattack had no discernible effect. The power of the onryou overwhelm their every maneuver.
“I’m not dying in a place like this—!!”
The ground beneath them rumbled. An enormous force of will forced the onryou back, but even that couldn’t hold against the combined murderous hatred of more than five hundred souls. The entire mountain boomed with the eerie howl of incantations. The storm continued to rage around them. The clash of wills exploded into a swirling tornado of fire. The main temple went up in flames; an inferno engulfed them: here was hell on earth.
Their counterattacks were simply brushed away. Nothing they did was working...!
“Fuck...!”
The mass of onryou descended on Takaya before he could turn to face them.
“...!”
Naoe could only watch as Takaya spat out a mouthful of blood, bright scarlet by firelight, and collapsed to the ground. Naoe called his name, but the onryou would not even allow him to go to Takaya’s side.
“From now on this mandala will be our trump card. The souls whose hair are woven into it will never escape our grasp: they are ours to control. Obey me, onryou of the Araki! Finish them now and forever!”
As if Rairyuu’s words had been a signal, the onryou fused into a massive knot of spirits and whirled high into the air. Takaya somehow managed to rise within the devastating storm of malice. He probably had a rib or three broken. He spat out some blood and glared at their enemy despite the pain.
This man was kanshousha—one capable of advanced energy control. Which likely meant he was a practitioner of the art of life-energy manipulation. He must’ve followed Takaya and Naoe here (probably in spirit form) and stolen the body of this monk immediately thereafter. They had never even noticed him following them and likewise had not sensed that he was kanshousha.
(He’s one formidable bastard...)
He‘d been able to perform kanshou on a living person as easily as another spirit might have possessed him. And to have achieved it without them noticing! He was, without question, a powerful opponent. He would have taken extra precautions in order to go undetected here on Mt. Kurama, but still: how amazingly strong the “divine protection of Amitabha” bestowed upon him! Under normal circumstances they would have the upper hand in this stronghold of Bishamonten, but the strength Takaya had expended in opening the mandala door had allowed Rairyuu’s ’power of Amitabha’ through.
(So this...is Shimozuka Rairyuu.)
Rairen’s younger brother, otherwise known as his trump card: he whose spiritual power towered over the rest of the Ikkou Sect.
Hard pellets of vicious energy pelted down on them mercilessly from above. They were sitting ducks.
“Kagetora-sama...!”
Takaya sank to his knees. Naoe shielded desperately, trying to make his way to him, but it was impossible. Takaya’s shields crumbled, and the fierce onslaught of the dead pierced him. He flew head over heels and collapsed to the ground, where he curled into himself protectively. The defiance never left his eyes.
“Go...to...hell...”
He heard Naoe calling his name—his last conscious thought. The rain of will struck unceasingly against his comatose body. Blood trickled past his still lips.
An instant later, the earth rumbled.
“Wh...what was...!”
The entire mountain began to heave and buckle, and Rairyuu faltered.
“Graaaah...!”
An awe-inspiring fount of «choubuku energy» shot up from the ground.
Araki’s onryou shrieked in agitation. Rairyuu prayed desperately to Amitabha, but Bishamonten’s «power» was vast beyond imagination.
“NOOOO!” Rairyuu wielded the mandala to command the onryou. “Run! Leave this mountain!”
The entire mass of onryou swirled into the night sky while Rairyuu used his nendouryoku to leap high into the air. The flying spirits dipped beneath him and bore him upward.
“Think you can escape, Rairyuu?!”
Naoe blasted his will into the sky. But he had not anticipated the landmines of psychic energy Rairyuu had planted.
“Guh...!”
He immediately stretched a «protective curtain» around himself, but it was not enough to block the explosions completely. He flinched back even as the cloud of onryou carrying Rairyuu flew toward the northern sky, trailing a tail massive as that of a falling star.
The geysers of «choubuku energy» gradually disappeared back into the earth. Naoe turned to Takaya.
“...Kagetora-sama!”
Naoe rushed back to the front of the main temple where Takaya lay still unconscious. His outstretched arm was limp and still, his lips stained red. Blood pooled on the stone paving around him.
Ice formed along Naoe’s spine.
Chapter 7: Uji River Asagiri Bridge
“Does it hurt?” Murashige asked, dipping a towel in the river. Ayako was seated on a bench. After escaping from Maruyama Park , they had come to this little island in the Uji River in the area called Uji Park.
Ayako, who had skirmished with their pursuers, had twisted her ankle.
“Ow ow ow...”
“You should take off your shoe—that should lessen the strain.”
Ayako did so, and the man took her ankle in his hands and examined the swelling.
“—The bone does not appear to be broken. Use this to keep it cool,” he said, pressing the towel against it.
The surface of the river sparkled beneath the moon’s merry light. They were near Uji Station on the line between Kyoto and Osaka, which meant the famous Byoudou-in must be very close. A line of mountain ridges rose out of the darkness beyond the flow of the river. Only a few cars crossed Uji Bridge in the deep night.
Massaging her ankle, Ayako admitted, “I really messed up back there. Should’ve known to watch my step while fighting on the riverbed.”
“Rest here a minute. You can’t ride your bike with that sprain, in any case.”
“If we’re not going back to the hotel, you can at least put up camp, geez,” Ayako pouted and glared at Murashige. He looked back at her quietly.
“...Why aren’t you running away?” Ayako asked suspiciously. “I mean, shouldn’t you be? If you stick around here, those Ikkou Sect monks are going to come and take you prisoner again.”
“I cannot abandon you.”
“Why? It’s not like they’re after me. You should go. —Or,” she added guardedly, “is it my «choubuku» you want to make use of?”
“...That is perhaps a part of it. But you cannot easily move on your own with that sprain. I have an obligation to help you.”
“Obligation...”
“Should I not ask the same question of you? Why did you help me when it was the decision of your companions to end my existence? Why disobey? Why not «exorcise» me?”
Ayako stared at the towel pressed against her ankle in silence.
“Because of ‘Shintarou’...?”
Ayako’s head jerked up. “That has nothing to do with you! Talk to me about the Ikkou Sect instead. What on earth are they scheming? What are they planning to do with you and that mandala?”
Murashige’s expression turned pensive. He fixed a glare on the moonlight dancing on the river’s waves. “They wish to make me the human pillar of Amagasaki.”
“Human pillar?”
"Erected to halt Oda’s Chuugoku advance. The enormous spiritual energy of my clan would then become their castle.
“Castle...? How?”
“‘Cannon’ would be a better description, perhaps—the so-called ‘Araki Cannon.’ First, they will bury me within the ruins of Amagasaki Castle. Then they will release the onryou from the mandala. Those vengeful spirits will want to kill me. But with the power of Amida protecting me, they will not be able to destroy me no matter how frenzied their assault. In the meantime, the Ikkou Sect will be harvesting their enormous spiritual power, building it into a giant energy point that they can control with the mandala to shoot at enemies from a distance. Crush them from afar.”
Murashige took a deep breath after the burst of explanation.
“In short: a gigantic cannon with shells of spiritual power. Rairen has decided on the thirteenth of December for its construction, the anniversary of the executions at Seven Pines. The onryou will be agitated, which will rouse the earth-bound spirits who died in that battle and stir the emotion still buried in that land. Conditions will be perfect for Rairen to exploit us all.”
“He’s doing this to counter Oda?”
Murashige nodded. “These were the terms for their alliance with the Mouri of Chuugoku. My clan’s hatred is a potent weapon. I do not exaggerate when I say that he who wields this power will have no rivals. This weapon will be jointly owned by the Mouri; their commander participated in the planning for its construction. The chosen location is a middle point between the two parties.”
“...”
“The Ikkou Sect has also dragged in Akechi-dono—I believe they’re preparing for an all-out confrontation with Oda, which they cannot do without this alliance with Mouri to their rear,” Murashige explained passionately. He then paused to laugh at himself with scorn. “I never imagined I would again be used by the Ikkou Sect and the Mouri—talk about history repeating itself!”
Ayako listened grimly.
Murashige continued, sobering, “...But there is a problem: Amagasaki Castle. It once belonged to us, but...” his tone sharpened, “think about it. What would happen if it were indeed resurrected as a weapon.”
“Amagasaki...” Ayako muttered. Her eyes widened. “That’s right! That entire area is filled with factories and industrial buildings now!”
Murashige nodded. “It’s right in the middle of the Hanshin Industrial Region. That’s where they want to release all that rage. The plants will be destroyed, to say nothing of the casualties. The concentration of power will turn that entire area into a sea of fire. It will deal a devastating blow to the commerce and industry of the Kyoto-Osaka-Kobe region.”
Ayako shuddered at that horrible and very plausible vision. The vicious power of the amassed onryou was more than enough to make it a reality.
“I am responsible for the creation of this monster. No self-reflection could lessen my guilt. I do not think they can hear my pleas for forgiveness any longer, but I would give myself over to their hatred if that is how I may atone for my crimes.”
“...”
“But I couldn’t be complicit in their exploitation. It was not fear that made me run, but integrity,” Murashige stated, clenching his fists: a man trying to convince himself with his own words. “I’m...only doing what is right.”
The river murmured endlessly. Ayako gazed wordlessly at the profile of the man who looked so like her longed-for beloved. Yet she also knew that this was the true face of the warrior who had been despised for being ‘base,’ ‘cowardly,’ ‘shameless.’
Murashige’s actions in his previous life had been an enigma. People throughout the ages had speculated and voiced suspicions about and even wantonly slandered the innermost motivations of this mysterious man.
Why had he betrayed Oda?
Why had he, lord of his own castle, abandoned his entire clan and fled?
He had forsaken his duties, his wife, and his people—that he alone might survive. A military commander’s pride should not have allowed him such cowardice. He had neither died heroically in defense of his castle nor courageously committed ritual suicide. He had lived shamelessly on—had even secured a position at the feet of the supreme ruler and lived in tranquility—died a kind, peaceful death.
How natural, then, for the world to censure him: what animal cunning, what hard-heartedness to throw the lives of all his people away in order to secure his own.
Murashige palmed his face and laughed with self-derision. “Should you not ridicule me?”
“Why...?”
“Did you not think: ‘He’s still making excuses?’ ‘He’s still running. If he feels as guilty as he says, why didn’t he stay and fight to the death at Itami-Arioka Castle in the first place?’” he sneered.
Ayako didn’t understand why he was saying such things. She wanted to know the truth. She asked boldly, “Is it true you left Itami-Arioka Castle in order to escape? Did you abandon the castle like everyone said?”
Murashige denied it angrily. “I left to request reinforcements from Mouri. They would have refused to negotiate with anyone else—it had to be me. I broke out in search of a plan what would have saved everyone. It was never my intention to abandon the castle...!”
“So you have nothing to hide. You couldn’t give an answer to the demand for surrender of the castle because Mouri interfered. You would’ve chosen to save your wife and clan even if it meant surrendering the castle, right? There was nothing you could do. And in the end you were the only one who survived...”
Murashige fell silent. His expression darkened. “...I deserve to be punished.”
“Murashige?”
“They’re all simply excuses for running away. I deserve to be punished.” Ayako looked askance at the sudden turnaround. Murashige stared at the ground and confessed in a tone of anguish, “They’re all lies.”
“Murashige...”
“I am what they call me,” he said, burying his face in his hands. “It’s all a lie. I claimed that I was leaving the castle in order to save everyone, but it was all an excuse. Everyone was right to distrust me. When I decided to escape from Itami-Arioka Castle, I wanted to forsake everything. I was forced to choose between capitulation and dying in defense of the castle, and I couldn’t—both choices were agonizing. There were so many people depending on me, clinging to me. I couldn’t endure that weight on my shoulders. I...in the end, I threw away both choices.”
“...”
“Yes, I ran. All the rest was justification. I have no right to be the lord of a castle. That blood bath was my punishment for abandoning them all.”
The sole survivor, Murashige—
In the aftermath he managed to safely escape Amagasaki and washed up in Geishuu, in a town called Onomichi , where he lived a quiet and secluded life on a stipend from Mouri Terumoto. Two despairing years he spent there until Nobunaga was suddenly killed at Honnou Temple in June of the tenth year of the Tenshou era (1582).
It left Murashige thunderstruck. The thought of meeting Nobunaga in battle once more in a fight to the death was all that sustained him. He had no other way of dealing with his ‘shame’ as a military commander. Yet Nobunaga’s assassination deprived him of even that possibility.
Murashige had shaved his hair and become a monk, wandering the land with the name he had self-derisively taken: ‘Doufun,’ which meant ‘road excrement.’
He felt as if he could hear the world censure and deride him for wanting to live despite sacrificing all those lives, despite his shame. There was no strength or pride left in him for rebuttal.
He recognized the odium of his actions. He had discarded his castle, run from harsh circumstances, spurned heavy responsibilities. He had not met even the barest obligations of a leader.
The massacre of his people was his punishment—he wasn’t wrong about that.
(What a pitiful excuse for a man this is.)
He understood the feeling. Of course he did.
He understood better than anyone. He had borne the slanderous mutters of the world, after all: borne them for so long that they had become auditory hallucinations.
Perhaps self-condemnation was a kind of defense which allowed him to endure the attacks of others.
Even after he gained the patronage of Hideyoshi, even until his last breath, Murashige never justified himself for his shameful past, for causing the brutal butchery of his people. He never refuted the infamy bestowed on him by the world, and accepted whatever the world chose to call him.
Only once did he ever touch upon the unmentionable: at a tea party held by Hideyoshi, at the sight of his old friend Takayama Ukon.
Ukon, lord of Takatsuki Castle, had rebelled against Nobunaga alongside Murashige. Yet he had surrendered his besieged stronghold without a drop of blood spilled upon the advice of the Christian missionary Organtino. It had been a devastating betrayal. If Ukon had stood fast, perhaps Murashige wouldn’t have been driven to his great tragedy.
“If only...if only thou hadst not betrayed me...!” Murashige abused and cursed Ukon, shouted and clutched at him like a madman, completely forgetting himself in public right there in the tea room. “The fault was thine! Return them, all whom I have lost! Return them to me!”
“Pray stop, Doukun-dono! Here is not the place, Doukun-dono!”
The other guests hurriedly stopped him. But the tea utensils were broken, the kettle shattered, the ladle thrown to the ground, the tea party ruined.
His resentment was, of course, completely unwarranted. The Christian Ukon had his own reasons and private anguish.
That event precipitated Murashige’s fall from Hideyoshi’s grace, and he was kept at arm’s length ever after.
It was the last glimpse the world had of ‘Araki Murashige,’ the man who had thrown away his name and identity as a warrior, who had accepted the grace of a new name, ‘Doukun,’ from Hideyoshi. Who lived the last part of his life as a hanger-on of the great and powerful.
“I’m not ‘Doukun’—fragrance by the road—but road excrement. I should be ‘Doufun,’” Murashige muttered, eyes fixed vacantly on Uji River. “I am such a fool...”
“...”
Ayako gazed at his profile in silence. Though his lips were twisted with a self-mocking smile, there was no smile in his eyes. Rather, they were filled with sorrow or regret, something indescribable and indescribably complex.
Murashige stood and walked to the river’s edge, stopping there to gaze at the unceasing flow.
“Nobunaga-dono was a hero. Truly. He fought to the end and died like a man. If I had died thus, I would have left behind a spotless name.”
“...”
“He was very like me in disposition and character. Perhaps that is why we repelled each other so. Do you know?—during my first audience with him, he speared a meat-bun with the tip of his blade and commanded me to eat it while I knelt prostrate in front of him. In front of everyone,” Murashige recalled, strangely loquacious. He no longer seemed to be censoring himself in front of Ayako. “I immediately opened my mouth and did so. Immediately, you understand? ...Was Nobunaga-dono testing my loyalty? He gave me the knife with a look of satisfaction. I received it reverently, but I will never forget what I felt at that moment.”
He had trembled with the unforeseen humiliation. But at the same time he had thought to himself, ‘I could never rival him.’
“If you knew you could not rival him, why did you rebel?”
Murashige smiled thinly at Ayako’s question. “Things happened in the intervening seven years. The direct impetus was probably...yes, his suspicions regarding the connection between the Ikkou Sect and the Mouri. Though they were but rumors, once those rumors reached him, he never trusted me again. So, before he came to crush me, I rebelled.”
“...”
“I had no other choice—such was the terror of being under his suspicion. You understand?” Murashige asked, looking at Ayako in the moonlight. Ayako did not respond. Murashige smiled. “I have heard that Kenshin-dono was a warrior who honored righteousness. You were very blessed to have served such a man, I think.”
“I...!”
“That was one reason among others. I, like the other commanders of the Kinai’s local clans, foresaw what was coming; we knew we could not survive without aligning ourselves with a strong power. I chose Nobunaga-dono. But ample acquaintance with the terror he wrecked told me that if I did not take a stand against him, I would simply be killed.”
Both of them fell silent for a while, listening to the rush of the river. Thinking of fate’s irony, Murashige gazed at the moon floating there upon the waves. The chill breeze felt pleasant against his flushed cheeks.
“...’Tis strange. This land has changed so much.”
“...”
“Only the scent of the wind has not changed. Why, I wonder? It is a mysterious thing.”
The words were artless as of sentiments spoken straight from the heart, Murashige’s gaze far away.
This figure standing at the river’s edge—the sight of him made Ayako ache. She felt as if someone very far away had appeared right in front of her. But reality was the anvil upon which her illusions had been shattered.
He was, without a doubt, ‘Araki Murashige,’ Ayako concluded with some disappointment.
She had followed him thus far—disobeyed orders and run after him, even—because she‘d found it impossible to let go of the suspicion that he was ’Shintarou.’ She needed to be sure.
One possibility remained: that he was ‘Araki Murashige’ and ‘Shintarou.’ Not either-or, but both.
Her thoughts raced. ‘Shintarou’ had always been ‘Araki Murashige.’ This man was kanshousha. He’d lived two hundred years ago, lived someone else’s life—that wasn’t so far-fetched. For some reason he’d lost his memory while he was ‘Shintarou’—she could think of any number of reasons. They‘d met two hundred years ago, neither knowing the other. There had to be some reason. Could this man standing before her now be the true ’Shintarou?’
She was afraid of confirming it. But she had to be sure. Murashige seemed to have guessed at the tremor in Ayako’s heart roused by that faint possibility. There was sympathy on his face.
“I am not your ‘Shintarou,’” he stated quite plainly.
“...!”
Ayako rocked back.
Murashige continued regretfully—sympathetically, perhaps, “I am not ‘Shintarou.’ This vessel may in some way be related to him, but I myself am not the ‘Shintarou’ you knew.”
“Where’s your proof...?!” Ayako snapped abruptly. “Where is your proof you’re not? You’re kanshousha, aren’t you? Maybe you were him two hundred years ago and don’t remember it.”
“Stop, I pray you,” Murashige responded calmly. “I believe I can understand how you feel. But pray do not say anything more—it would only wound you further. I pity ‘Shintarou’ for being mistaken for a man like me.”
Ayako’s mouth closed. She exhaled. Murashige had lost the skittishness of a hunted fugitive. He gazed at her with deep sympathy.
“I thought it best to clear the air between us as soon as I could. I might be kanshousha now, but until only half a year ago, I was one of the spirits buried beneath Osaka Castle as one of its human pillars.”
“Human pillar...? So...”
“A monk who was close to the Kanpaku arranged it. After my death, my soul would be buried beneath Osaka Castle so that I might become one of its guardian spirits.”
“Why?” asked Ayako.
“After my entire clan was executed, their onryou haunted me. I fled to Aki, and there I met a traveling monk from Mt. Hiei. He had barely escaped Oda setting his temple on fire, and was now wandering the land. Perhaps he saw me as a fellow victim and felt sympathy for me. There existed a mandala woven from the hair of members of my clan before their executions. He sealed the onryou within with the power of the Buddhas. In return, he asked that my soul serve the Kanpaku after my death.”
“Serve Hideyoshi... Then that monk was Hideyoshi’s...”
“Protégé, I believe. I agreed to his conditions; I could not bear the harrowing for a moment longer. The same monk also interceded when I fell out of favor with His Excellency the Taikou. After my death I became a human pillar of Hideyoshi’s Osaka Castle, and have been bound to that place until the present day.”
“For all that time...?”
“Yes, for all that time...”
Until six months ago, when Honganji Kousa, also known as Kennyo, had released him...
Osaka Castle had been built where Ishiyama Hongan-ji, stronghold of the Ikkou Sect, had once stood. Upon his return after his resurrection, Kennyo had likely sensed the human pillar of Murashige’s spirit directly below Osaka Castle. They had released Murashige and made him an ally, and learned of his clan’s mandala from him.
“...I have been in the ground beneath Osaka Castle since my death. I have watched Toyotomi’s fall and Tokugawa’s rise. I’ve seen how this area flourished under the merchants in the world Tokugawa made... In short,” he concluded, turning to Ayako, “I am not ‘Shintarou.’ When you were with him, I was beneath Osaka Castle. We are different people. It probably pains you to hear it, but it is the truth.”
“...”
His explanation left Ayako dazed and at a loss for words.
She had lost even the meager possibility she’d been clinging to.
She felt despair rather than disappointment.
And it was so like fear.
It was not the loss of hope, but shock in the face of how completely wrong her confidence had been.
(I thought it had to be him—...)
What was it she had felt?
She sensed her trust in her own intuition, to which she had clung, of which there was so little left, grow brittle and crumble away.
(I...was wrong.)
She, who had boasted to Takaya ‘I could never forget his face’—in truth she could remember nothing of Shintarou’s features but a blurred image. She had grown more and more frustrated at herself for that fact.
She could only rely on herself.
She had only her intuition to guide her in the search for Shintarou. In a world changing and transforming itself moment by moment, she had only herself to fall back on. It was true that she did not have the ability to discern between patterns of the soul’s core. She could not read the past lives of a purified soul. But she had believed that even when she could not recognize other souls, she would be able to recognize his—that one soul, at least. How could she fail to recognize it? If he ever appeared before her, she would not mistake him—her faith in that fact was absolute. Faith was all she had. Without that, if she could not live for the sake of the one she loved, could she have continued living for so long...?!
“You...” Murashige said, and only then did Ayako realize that she was crying. She didn’t want to, but the tears steadily overflowed. She couldn’t stop even when she wanted to.
“I’m not crying,” Ayako insisted, trying to will the tears away. “I’m not even sad. I wouldn’t feel this blue just because I’m wrong a time or two. I believe in myself, and I’m not going to stop,” Ayako said as if trying to convince herself, glaring at the river’s surface. “...I’m not saying that just to sound tough. If I’m wrong, I can just keep looking. Keep waiting. I can wait for him to be reincarnated. I’ve got plenty of time. I’ll know him. I’ll recognize him for sure...I know it.” She gritted her teeth against the sobs.
Murashige looked compassionately at her. Ayako returned his gaze intently...the gaze of this man who looked so like Shintarou.
They were so alike Ayako felt as if she were looking at Shintarou himself. But it was a feeling she could not trust. Over the long years, the real Shintarou’s features had become blurred and warped in her mind; if Shintarou stood here now, he would probably be very different from this man. Perhaps she had allowed the reality of the man standing before her to override her memories of Shintarou and convinced herself they were alike.
But the likeness was real.
Due to that likeness, she had thought their souls were one and the same. That preconception had warped her soul-sensing. How could she rely on her abilities if something so trifle could cause her to make a mistake? Where was her self-confidence in her ability to recognize Shintarou?
“I can’t even trust myself...” Ayako muttered hoarsely in shock. “What should I do? Tell me!” she entreated Murashige. “Even if I see him again, I probably won’t recognize him. Or maybe I already have, and didn’t even realize it...”
Her doubt was bottomless and utterly familiar. That was why she’d been so adamant in trusting herself and her own abilities—it was how she’d survived. What could she believe in now she knew her abilities could not be relied on? What hope could she carry, cling to?
“What should I do? Tell me that,” Ayako entreated this man who might have been her beloved’s twin. “How do I keep waiting for him? What should I believe in? If I can’t trust myself, what can I trust?”
Murashige’s brows drew together in sympathetic pain, his gaze full of compassion. Ayako asked—yes, as earnestly, as desperately as if he were Shintarou himself, “How do I keep living if I’m not waiting for him? How long should I go on? ...Why am I still living? Why did I have to live for so long?!”
Murashige quietly embraced Ayako as a father might, as if he were trying to protect her from the cold wind off the river. “...I’m sorry.”
“...”
“’Tis true: if you cannot give yourself a worthy reason, you cannot forgive yourself for your life... If you can find no justification for it, you cannot allow yourself to continue living.”
Ayako breathing hitched. Was Murashige saying those words to Ayako or to himself?
She had never doubted her heart before, but she now doubted it helplessly.
Do I still love Shintarou at all...?
A heavy knot of sorrow sank into the abyss of Ayako’s chest, creating enormous ripples. Ayako closed her eyes and stared directly at the misgivings she had always skirted before.
Was her love just her justification for staying alive? Perhaps she had stopped loving him long ago, and only told herself the opposite to have a reason to continue performing kanshou.
(Maybe I don’t love him any longer...)
“No...that’s not true.” Ayako shook her head desperately in denial, clinging instinctively to Murashige. But she knew it was true.
(I’ve known for a long time...)
She could be strong only by closing her mind to such thoughts. She tried desperately to shove them aside. She could rest easy if she didn’t think about them; to do so was to succumb to that helpless despair. She didn’t have Naoe’s fortitude for examining her own ugliness and cowardice in agony and resignation. She didn’t have the strength of mind to endure it. She wouldn’t be able to go on. With the same sort of tenacity Naoe put into self-examination, she looked away from the dark corners of her heart. She desperately, with all her strength, held onto optimism.
But now she could not look away. Here in front of her was the undeniable truth. The one she had identified as Shintarou was not Shintarou. The recognition she‘d felt—’it’s him!’ had been so clear and present, so vivid, that she’d been entirely convinced. So much so that to be mistaken meant that she could no longer trust in anything.
She had been deluded by her self-confidence. Now she had come to realize the hopeless truth: that she could not even trust in herself.
“I can’t take this...!” Ayako wailed, shaking her head violently. —She couldn’t wait any more. “I’ve waited for so long! How much longer do I have to go on? How many more years have to pass before I can see him again? When will I ever see him again?!”
“You...”
“Do I no longer love him? Was it all a lie? What should I...?”
Shintarou’s face was so far away.
So very far—...
Ayako called out for him desperately. As she always did, then and now.
“I swear I will come back to you.”
She had forgotten even his voice. She didn’t know to whom that voice now belonged.
“When I am reincarnated, I will come back to you. Don’t be sad. I won’t let you be alone. I’ll come and find you again...”
Had those words become illusion as well? When would her faith be rewarded? She had believed in that promise for so long...
There were many men she could love. She had met by chance countless men kinder than Shintarou, and greater. If she were to forget him, she could have fallen in love many times over. But for her, Shintarou had always been first in her heart.
“Is this an excuse too? Have I been lying to myself? Have I been using Shintarou?”
Had she merely been afraid of being burned, of being hurt? Was this torch carried for an old lover simply an excuse—a defense against the potential for hurt to which loving another would leave her vulnerable?
“No...it was never like that...that’s not why I’ve waited for him...!”
Ayako entreated Murashige for an answer. Instead, he cradled her head against his chest with one large strong hand.
“You must believe,” Murashige told her with surprising force. “Were you not frantically calling out ‘Shintarou’s’ name when you met me? Would that have been your reaction if you do not love him? Or would you have run from fear of meeting him again?”
“...”
“You love ‘Shintarou’ still. It is not simply a lingering nostalgia. But even if it were, what of it? You love him. That is enough, if that is your truth.”
For this one moment he was Shintarou. “Cry if you wish,” Murashige said, holding her tightly though the tempest had passed.
(He smells like him...)
Just as Murashige had not forgotten the scent of the wind from four hundred years ago, Ayako felt her heart breaking here within his arms, Shintarou’s warmth.
(If he were truly Shintarou-san...)
How happy she would be, she thought, the tears overflowing again. He had never been able to hold her in this way, but his lost right arm must have cradled her like this all along.
The feeling of these arms, the feeling of this body—all of it was connected with her memories of Shintarou. The tension left her. She had not forgotten. She could reassure herself.
(I remember him.) The thought emerged out of the warmth. (I...remember you.)
Her soul recognized the scent of this wind.
The pure sound of the moonlit river calmed her weary heart. It still flowed as it did four hundred years ago...two hundred years ago...unchanged.
“Wherever you are, wherever this wind blows, I hope you will remember me.”
Shintarou’s words reverberated in her heart. They’d been walking side by side that cold night in Ninen Hill , Shintarou looking up at the pale moon as he’d murmured them. The sky had been full of cheerfully twinkling stars. The wind had been cold yet so clear that her chest had ached.
“Are you cold?” Shintarou had asked with his characteristic gentleness. She’d shaken her head, but he had silently taken her cold hands in his to warm them.
Now it was Murashige’s hand warming hers—his right, which Shintarou had lost. It was a warmth only Shintarou had ever given her.
(He’s...)
Ayako closed her eyes with pain. They were so alike—their hearts so alike. That was why he was so warm, so achingly familiar.
(I want to save him.)
She wanted to help him somehow. This cowardly and pitiable man who was so good at finding justifications for himself—she wanted to help him escape from the grasp of the onshou.
(What should I do?)
Send him somewhere beyond their reach. But how could she get him away? Should she stow him out of the country? Were her abilities enough to protect him?
“...!”
She sensed someone approaching and reluctantly parted from Murashige. Several people were crossing the bridge behind them. Both of them went on high alert.
“And here we thought you had made good your escape. Instead we find you loitering in a place like this, Murashige-dono.”
Crossing Asagiri Bridge into the glow of the streetlights were several men in gray suits—men they’d fought earlier.
(Shimozuma Rairen...!)
Ayako readied herself to protect Murashige, but this time he stepped in front of her. Rairen took off his silver-rimmed glasses with one hand and tucked them into his breast pocket, then smoothed a lock of hair out of his eyes, smiling coldly.
“Well then. Your elopement ends at Uji River. I would like you to return to us now, Murashige the Shameless-dono.”
Murashige glared. More men were creeping up behind him from Tachibana Bridge . Ayako moved to stand back-to-back with him.
“You’re calling us shameless? That makes me really mad.”
Despite the caustic words, Ayako’s voice trembled. They were two against ten, and the Ikkou Sect had the power to block her «exorcism».
Cold sweat trailed down Ayako’s temples.
Chapter 8: Ephemeral Vow
Takaya lay motionless in his arms, oblivious to the increasing desperation with which Naoe called his name. Something hard protruded from his chest at a peculiar angle near the spot where blood welled: broken ribs. The blood was so vivid that Naoe knew pieces of bones had pierced his lung. His life was in danger.
Naoe could not rouse him. Kurama Temple’s monks finally made an appearance, exclaiming in shock at the blood-covered Takaya.
“We’ll call an ambulance...!”
“There’s no time. Where’s the nearest hospital?”
It would be faster to drive him. But even to move him in this condition was dangerous—he could suffocate before they arrived. Takaya stirred minutely in his arms.
“Takaya-sa...!”
His eyes slitted open, and Takaya looked painfully up at him. His lips moved as if he wanted to speak, but there was no sound.
“What? What did you...?”
The monks behind them screamed.
“!”
In the darkness...
A white light floated towards them. And as it reached them...
It transformed into a human-like figure.
“It...it’s Kannon-sama. The Thousand-Armed Kannon!” The monks shouted in one voice.
And so it was. The Kannon Bodhisattva had come to them, glowing and dazzlingly beautiful, her thousand arms like the gigantic wings of an angel.
(It’s...)
The Thousand-Armed Kannon was one of the three-in-one main objects of worship of Kurama Temple. But why had she appeared now? The faint glimmer of Takaya eyes seemed fixed in her direction.
“Kagetora-sa—...”
Her breathtaking light overflowed and expanded, and everyone involuntarily closed their eyes. It flashed strongly for an instant—and then the Thousand-Arm Kannon transformed.
Here before them was one of the heavenly lords: the Guardian of the Earth, the Divine Demon King. This was the guardian spirit who had descended to Earth from Venus 6,500,000 years ago, the god said to rule over all creation and destruction on Earth.
The monks exclaimed in shock from the unbelievable sight, awed by this manifestation of the god they worshiped. They prostrated themselves on the ground and pressed their hands together. The light rapidly compressed into a tiny dot, a small orb radiating an intense light, before sinking into Takaya’s prone body.
“What was that!”
Takaya shivered. Everyone held their breaths. At last Takaya opened his eyes and sat up.
“Wha...huh?”
Takaya touched his chest where a mass of heat pulsed within him. An anesthesia-like numbness spread through him, and the pain vanished like a bad dream. The protrusions of his broken and deformed ribs, when he felt for them, had already healed.
“It appears as if the Heavenly Lord has recognized us as servants of Bishamonten.” Naoe remarked calmly.
The Divine Demon King and Thousand-Armed Kannon had recognized them as followers of Bishamonten, and therefore allies. Meaning that the other two divinities had rallied to their cause.
“I guess you could say they are lending us their strength.”
Takaya stood with hand against his chest. He paced a small distance away with a steady step.
“Kagetora-sama.”
“We need to go after the Araki onryou and Rairyuu. We’ve got to capture those spirits.”
“How do we deal with such a large number?”
Takaya’s response was to move away from them before smoothly dropping to one knee. He began chanting something that sounded like a sutra, though Naoe could not place it. It took him a moment to recognize it. It was...
(The Divine Demon Lord’s...)
Takaya’s aura strengthened. He pushed his right hand against the ground softly. A circle of luminescence formed around him. Takaya tuned out the monks’ outcry and everything else as he continued chanting and pouring his power into the earth.
There was a crackling sound, and the ground bulged as if with the snaking roots of trees. The earth rose further, and a circle of clay figures, each a meter tall (~3 ft), popped up out of the ground to surround Takaya.
“Th-they’re...!”
“Tengu!”
“Ooooh... Kurama’s tengu...!”
So they appeared to be, and so they were. There were hundreds of the clay figures. They began to glow crimson, touched with the breath of life.
The tengu of Mt. Kurama belonged to the temple’s gods. In obedience to Takaya/the Divine Demon Lord’s command, they had come to life.
“O tengu!” Takaya lifted his head and command in a ringing voice, “show me the way! Lead me to Araki’s onryou!”
The ground groaned as the tengu pushed off, radiant gleaming wings bearing them up into the sky. The ‘[[Gohou Douji of the Sword]]’ emerged from Takaya’s shadow and soared after them.
“What will we do when we catch them? Rairyuu’s power of Amida will protect the spirits from our «choubuku». We must deal with him, but killing him will prove difficult. How do we fight?”
“Think about it,” Takaya responded calmly. “The tengu are supernatural creatures born of the union between heavenly foxes and birds. They‘ve inherited much of the foxes’ power of suggestion, and have the ability to confound people’s sixth sense. If it’s not possible to attack Rairyuu himself, then there is only one way to make him lose his power of Amida.”
“So...”
Takaya nodded, gaze fixed on the lights of Kyoto. “We’re going after them, Naoe. The tengu will show us the way.”
They were heading north1, leaving trails of light in their wake.
A tense stand-off was developing along the banks of Uji River. Ayako and Murashige were alert to every movement of the men facing them. In contrast, a coat-clad Rairen climbed the stairs of the bridge and approached with studied casualness.
“Get back!” Ayako snapped reflexively. “If you come any closer, I’ll «exorcise» you on the spot...!”
“Your «choubuku» will not work on us.”
White fire blazed from Rairen and his men, covering them entirely. This was the power of Amitabha.
“Amida is with us. One is a Buddha and the other a Deva at most—there is no question whose power will triumph. Step aside before you get hurt. Otherwise you will die.”
“No way am I gonna stand back and let you destroy Amagasaki!” Ayako’s aura blazed. She had no choice! “You wanna piece of this? Come at me, then!”
“Take them!”
Their opponents’ auras swelled into orbs of energy that shot at Ayako and Murashige. A fierce battle commenced. Ayako stretched a «goshinha» around them and fired off her will as rapidly as bullets from a machine gun. Murashige demonstrated his fire-starting prowess by blasting fierce jets of flame at Rairen’s men. The blazing, swirling coils turned the river’s surface red.
“Graaaaah!” Rairen shielded himself and roared, “Damn you!”
The river jerked and swelled. Rairen diverted its flow with telekinesis.
“Raaaaugh—!”
The water rushed upward into an arch and swallowed all the fire in one gulp. A heavy deluge cascaded from the sky, soaking everyone from the head down.
“Hey Mr. Nouveau-Rich Monk! Be careful you don’t catch a cold over there!”
“Damn you, Uesugi!”
“Ayako-sama’s restitutions won’t come cheap!” Ayako kept shooting even as she spoke.
Rairen’s water blade lashed out Ayako and Murashige, tearing Ayako’s will to pieces.
“Run, Murashige!” Ayako cried, absorbing the Ikkou Sect’s relentless attack. “I’m gonna perform «choubuku» on all of them! So hurry up and get out of here or it’ll take you, too!”
“There’s too many of them!”
They simply couldn’t withstand the attacks of this many people. Performing «choubuku» under these conditions was impossible.
“I have to try; there’s no other way I can take them out!”
“I have already told you «choubuku» will not work against us, Uesugi! Do you wish to court destruction so badly?” Rairen interjected even as another voice reverberated inside Ayako’s head:
“«Exorcise» Murashige now!”
Kagetora’s command. Ayako gritted her teeth. The crucial point was that Murashige’s existence was an invitation to disaster. Without him, the Ikkou Sect’s human pillar plan would fall apart. Was it easier to exorcise ten of the Ikkou Sect or kill one kanshousha and exorcise him? Bringing down Murashige was obviously the easier tactic for winning this battle.
(I don’t want to kill this man, Kagetora...!)
Stop behaving like a spoilt child! Kagetora rebuked. How much longer will you allow yourself to be deceived by sentimentality? If you will not carry out your orders, you have no right to talk back to me!
Exchanging another round of attacks, Ayako screamed at Kagetora, I know he’s not Shintarou! But Murashige is the victim here! I fail to see the justice in killing the victim while allowing the bad guys to live!
(You’ve never understood!) Ayako yelled at Kagetora from the midst of the fierce barrage, “You’ve never understood my feelings...! You have no idea what it’s like to be bound to a single person for hundreds of years!”
The earth rumbled—then the sand exploded before Ayako’s eyes. The burst of will had come from overhead. She gasped and looked up into the sky.
“That’s...!”
A mass of hate-filled faces had come on them unawares. The seven hundred airborne wraiths were approaching from the north, terrible power whirling between them. It was the Araki Clan’s...!
“I’ve brought reinforcements, Brother!”
Riding the cloud of onryou Sun Wukong-like was a man in a priest’s garb. Rairen’s eyes glittered.
“There you are, Rairyuu!”
The wraiths arrived overhead and descended to a height of around twenty meters (~60 ft). Rairyuu nimbly jumped off. There below them was their hated master Araki Murashige, and this was the first time they had laid eyes on him in four hundred years. Their howling grew even more terrifying—from joy at seeing their enemy in front of them, perhaps, or overwhelming hatred that mirrored what they had felt at the moment of their deaths.
«Murashigeeeee...!»
«Curse you...Murashigeeeee—!"
Voices full of loathing filled the still night. Murashige froze in place.
“You...”
The onryou were blind to everything but Murashige. Their vast animus transformed into power. Coalescing into a massive tumescence of malice, they charged straight at him.
«We will never forgive you, Murashigeeeee!»
«Go to helllllll!»
“Watch out!”
Murashige cowered in terror. Ayako stepped in front of him, erecting a «goshinha» over them both, but the onryou smashed it apart easily.
(There’s nowhere to go!)
They were going to take a direct hit, she thought, when Murashige was enveloped in a white light.
(What...!)
Unable to reach Murashige, the wrathful spirits turned their attack on Ayako.
“Aaaah!”
They sent her tumbling head over heels.
“Uesugi...!” Murashige yelled, jerking toward her, but the curtain of light hardened into a barrier and blocked his way, trapping him. It was the precise shape of his body, an impassive cage made of power and hard as glass. Murashige struck it desperately, but it did not give an inch.
“Uesugi...! Hold on!”
Dazed, Ayako raised herself off the ground. Murashige shouted at her, but his voice could not reach her. Rairen smirked.
“That is a cage made of Amida’s power! You cannot escape us, Araki Murashige. We hold you in our hands!”
“What did you say...?!”
“Now then, we have one last nuisance to deal with. What a fine opportunity! We’ll finish Uesugi’s insolent Yasha here and now!”
“As you command, Brother!”
Rairyuu briskly unfurled the mandala and addressed the onryou.
“Accept Amida’s divine protection! Obey my command, O onryou!”
Light flared from the mandala. Yielding to its control, the howling onryou changed course in mid-air.
“Your enemy is the Yasha! Destroy her!”
“You’re freaking kidding me!”
Ayako immediately formed Bishamonten’s ritual gesture. More than seven hundred onryou charged at her, radiating fearsome power.
"Ari nari tonari anaro nabi kunabi! ... (bai)!
But not one of the onryou disappeared. Their trajectory and ferocity remained unchanged. Her «power of choubuku» had no effect!"
(No way...!)
She promptly created a «shield wall», but it presented hardly any obstacle all. The brutal will of the onryou swarm smashed into Ayako...!
“Gyaaaaaah!”
The fierce concentrated assault had the devastating power of megaton bombs continuously exploding in one spot. Uji River heaved and danced in midair like a tornado, and the ground jolted with a buzzing rumble as high voltage / high pressure psychic blows slammed into Ayako. The asphalt sizzled and curled around her; the riverbank’s skeletal trees burned instantly to ash. Ayako shielded herself with all her strength, but the blunt power of the wraiths’ hatred bore down on her relentlessly, mercilessly. Ayako sank slowly to her knees.
“Uesugiiiii—!” Murashige screamed, though she could not hear him. Rairen laughed uproariously.
“How long can you hold on, Uesugi? It hurts, doesn’t it? Give in. Accept your destruction and go to Hell!”
“Uesugiiiii!”
Ayako gritted her teeth against the raging energy crushing her body. She struggled to draw breath. Her bones creaked alarmingly, and her internal organs felt as if they were being pulverized.
“Don’t you dare die on me, Haruie.”
Kagetora’s voice echoed inside her head. Ayako mustered her strength and renewed her desperate resistance.
(Ka...Kagetora...)
The ruthless and unrelenting pressure sneered at defiance. It wore her down little by little. Death pressed close. It was close enough to touch, and she couldn’t hold it back.
(I...don’t think I can hold out much longer.) Ayako pleaded amidst her anguish. Should she stop? Death would be instantaneous—it would be so easy.
“Aren’t you waiting for him? For your Shintarou?”
(Should I throw it all away?) Ayako clenched her teeth hard. She was literally being crushed into the dirt. If she could leave it all behind, she would be at peace. Why not surrender, then?
(I can’t, Kagetora!)
“Uesugiiiiii—!!” Murashige yelled. No sound reached her, but her heart heard him. Murashige’s voice overlapped with Shintarou’s to touch her across space and time.
“I don’t want you to go, Tsuta.”
(Shintarou-san...)
“Even if I lose my memories, I will find you. I’ll be reborn to protect you. I’ll come back for you again and again if need be.”
(Shintarou-san!)
“Wait for me. I would never lie to you. Trust in me...”
She had believed in that improbable promise for so long. She had felt countless moments of doubt, but she had always kept faith. Because in order to justify her own immortality she had had no other choice? No, that wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. She couldn’t accept that explanation. She had believed it because she’d wanted to believe.
She’d lived too long not to know—know profoundly—how paltry the value of such a promise was. But Shintarou had made her just such a promise. It had been so very difficult to continue believing. Yet he’d promised her knowing that she knew—precisely because she knew the unlikelihood that such a vow could be fulfilled. He’d done it at the very moment of his death, had gambled everything on his vanishing life. Believe me.
(You’re a liar...)
He had not come back for her in any of his new lives. Never come to seek her out.
(I’ve waited for so long—isn’t it enough yet, God?!)
Her power was almost wholly squandered, and the harrowing onslaught continued relentlessly. It was as if she were being tested within that terrifying and eternal energy called ‘time’ itself, Ayako thought.
(I can’t take any more...)
She pictured Shintarou’s face. She had done it again and again through the years, but still it had gradually faded and become discolored.
Yet why was it so vivid, so distinct at this moment? How was it that she could so clearly recall his voice, his very being?
Ayako screamed. Not as if her soul were being torn apart, but a wail of her beloved’s name.
“Aaaaaaah—!!”
“!”
Something disrupted the great cascade of malevolent psychic energy from what appeared to be its exact center, scattering it with an eerie hum. Rairen and his following faltered in surprise. Another power had entered the fight.
“What was...! Ooooh!”
They could now see countless shadows flitting over the river, fantastical figures that looked like mountain ascetics with golden wings sprouting from their backs.
“T-tengu!” one of Rairen’s followers shrieked.
The flock of tengu surrounded them overhead and began simultaneously and furiously flapping their wings. A large quantity of gold dust began falling from the sky onto the onryou with a rushing sound.
Waaaaugh—...!
It pained them, and the wraiths’ power weakened.
“Are those accursed things from Kurama?” Rairyuu clenched at the mandala. “Do not yield! Do not back down!”
The onryou swooped down on the tengu in obedience to Raiyuu’s command. The tengu spread their wings and released their feathers, which shot into the wraiths like a cloud of golden bolts. Their screams filled the sky.
Seizing the opportunity caused by the confusion, another of their spirit-allies swooped down from the sky with its thousand swords. It wrapped a «shielding light» around Ayako which glowed like a spotlight around her crumbled form.
Ayako’s eyes fluttered open and took in the protective presence around her: the ‘Gohou Douji of the Sword’...
“...Kage...tora.”
The Windom raced toward the scene. From its passenger seat, Takaya used his mental link with the Gohou Douji to reassure himself that Ayako was safe.
“Looks like we got there in time,” Takaya said to Naoe with a sigh of relief, scowling at the view past the windshield.
“Is Murashige there?”
"Yeah. She couldn’t «exorcise» him after all. Even though I told her...she’s hopeless.
Though the words were scathing, Takaya’s face held no trace of irritation. He must have foreseen this result. A realistic perspective was more important than opprobrium for her sentimentality.
(He’s adorable even when he’s rebuking someone.)
There were no chinks in Kagetora’s armor. Reproaching and censoring someone for their emotional weaknesses was ‘ungenerous’ and beneath contempt.
Blood-lust filled Takaya’s eyes.
“...We’ll pulverize ’em.”
“Destroy them! Knock the tengu out of the sky!”
Rairen’s followers immediately began hurling psychic blasts into the sky, felling innumerable tengu. Rairyuu renewed his focus on controlling the mandala to muster the onryou once more.
“Did you think you could distract us with this, Uesugi?!”
The mandala glowed. Strengthened, the onryou launched a fierce new assault on the tengu. The tengu counter-attacked with their feathers, but this time the onryou flicked the projectiles away.
“Watch out!”
The onryou spat fire at their airborne opponents. Perceiving that they were at a disadvantage, the tengu drew into close formation. Some formed a shield behind which others sheltered. They picked up the fifes hanging at their waists and raised the instruments to their mouths.
“Wh...what’s that?!”
(No...!) Rairyuu thought. He spread the mandala wide and urged the horde of onryou to the attack, but they were rebuffed by the tengu formation. The tengu began to play.
“What!”
The air around them began to shimmer at the eerie sound of the fifes. The sectarians’ visions wavered, and their minds fell into white confusion. Rairen was the one to recognize the danger.
“It’s the glamour of the tengu! Everyone, pray to Amida! Pray with all your strength! ...Rairyuu, you must prevail against them!”
“Guh...!”
Rairyuu resisted the unearthly sound, desperately chanting the name of Amitabha in his mind. But the bewitching music harrowed his senses and echoed directly in his mind even when he plugged his ears. He could not escape. His thoughts were scattered to the winds.
“Ah...ah...”
Rairyuu put all his energy into repelling the psychic invasion. He lost the thread of the delicate mental work needed to control the onryou and finally lost them altogether.
“Aaaaah...! Amida!”
Abruptly released from the control of the mandala, the onryou careened madly through the air.
“Th-those fifes! Somebody stop those fifes!”
Rairyuu’s concentration completely disrupted by the glamour of the tengu, both the net of Amitabha’s power he had cast over the onryou and the cage he’d used to trap Murashige vanished.
“Uaooooo—!”
The psychical enmity of the rampaging onryou fell on everyone within range. Rairen and Rairyuu put all their strength into chanting the name of the Buddha to counter the glamour. Those who could not hold out became delirious.
«Murashigeeeee!» the enraged onryou shrieked. They had but one target.
“Aaaaaah—!” Murashige screamed, shielding himself. The onryou formed into a huge mass and shot from the sky at great speed.
“Watch out, Murashigeee!”
Something moved in front of him just before it hit.
“!”
Vicious sparks shot out in every direction, and a woman screamed. Something had protected him, shielded him, taken the blow meant for him.
“Thou art...!”
The female spirit with long hair was sent flying like an old rag. She fluttered to the ground weightless as a leaf.
“Dashi! Is it thee, Dashi? Why...?!”
«Murashige...sama...»
The ghostly ragged form of Dashi clung to Murashige.
«These men would stop me. Run now...Run, I pray you.»
“Why! Why wouldst thou help me?! ’Twas I who sent thee to thy death! Dost thou not hate me?”
Dashi shook her head and smiled faintly.
«I...am thy wife, Murashige-sama...»
It stunned Murashige.
“Dashi...”
The swarm of onryou approached once more. An instant before direct impact, Dashi stretched out her ghostly body to shield Murashige. The mass of spirits struck Dashi in the back, and her agonized scream went on and on.
“Dashiiii—!”
Dashi’s ghostly form collapsed into Murashige’s arms, turned into sand, and vanished. Murashige remained on his knees, dumbfounded.
“Dashi...”
He said her name musingly, then clenched his fists tightly and turned toward the wraiths of his former vassals with determination.
“Hear me, spirits! I will run no more! I will face all your hate!”
The onryou howled and went for Murashige with one accord.
Rairen yelled, “No! They must not be allowed to kill him!”
Rairyuu prayed to Amitabha and with utmost effort wrapped Murashige in the Buddha’s power. At that instant, a «nenpa» exploded in front of him.
“Grah!”
“Your scheming stops here, Shimozuma Rairyuu! Rairen!”
Takaya and Naoe dashed toward them from the bridge.
Rairyuu snarled, “You should have run when you had the chance!”
A violent psychic battle commenced. Naoe rushed over to Ayako and lifted her in his arms.
“Can you stand, Haruie?”
“Naoe, Murashige...!”
There was a signal sound as of battle commencing. Turning, they saw the onryou begin a frontal attack against Murashige.
“Guooooooh—!”
“Oh no, the river’s—!”
Their malevolent power destroyed the riverbank around them and flooded Murashige’s entire body with voltage and heat until he collapsed in place.
“Murashigeeee—!”
Naoe stopped Ayako from running to him. Takaya pressed one hand against the ground and called up all his power.
“O Spirit-King of the Earth, Divine Guardian Demon King, grant me the mystical power of spirit-extermination!”
Takaya’s body glowed gold. The power of the Guardian Demon King shot toward the swarm of onryou and scored a direct hit. The knot of onryou scattered. Murashige was sprawled on the embankment, dead.
“Aaaaah—!” Ayako screamed in heartbroken anguish, clutching at Naoe. Holding her tightly, Naoe glared at their enemies.
“Murashige’s spirit is leaving the body. Naoe, perform «choubuku»!”
“Brother! We must not allow them to «exorcise» Murashige! We must protect him!”
The Shimozuma brothers captured Murashige in a cage of Amitabha’s power. The tengu played their fifes to disrupt their power. Takaya called on the power of the Divine Demon King to check the advance of the onryou in midair.
“Naoe, do «choubuku» now!”
“Guh...!”
The Shimozuma brothers‘ power of Amitabha crashed into Naoe’s binding of Murashige’s spirit. The two powers struggled for domination, neither giving way—until the monks’ strength began growing stronger little by little.
(Is my power alone not enough...?!)
“I’ll do it, Naoe,” Ayako said in a low voice. "I’ll perform the «exorcism».
“Haruie.”
“Let me,” Ayako added very clearly, rising. Her hesitation was gone. She narrowed her eyes at the Shimozuma brothers. “Hold them back!”
Naoe understood. He released his outer bind and began attacking the Shimozuma brothers with «nenpa».
“Waugh!”
Naoe’s blast exploded right in front of them, and Rairen flinched. Naoe began mercilessly driving the two backward with a barrage of will. Ayako faced Murashige’s corpse—faced the tragic remains of one who looked so like her beloved—with poise and determination. She resolutely girded herself with the mien of a military commander and cloaked herself with «power».
Murashige’s spirit slipped out of his body. A strong wind blew back Ayako’s hair.
Ayako slowly formed Bishamonten’s ritual gesture, her movements filled with power.
She had to cut it away.
In order to keep believing, to keep living...
She had to cut away the weakness of her helpless doubts. Let this be her rite, then.
“ (bai)!”
Murashige’s spirit was bound. Takaya desperately held back the raging onryou.
“Haruie...!”
“Murashige must not be «exorcised», Rairyuu!” Rairen yelled, but he was pinned down by Naoe’s fierce blasts of will. Rairyuu responded by hurling a burst of «nenpa» at Ayako. A sword thrown by the ‘Gohou Douji’ intercepted it before it could reach her. It exploded and vanished.
“Noumakusamanda bodanan baishiramandaya sowaka! Namu Tobatsu Bishamonten!” Ayako pronounced in ringing tones.
“For this demon subjugation, lend me thy power!”
“Stop, Uesugiiii!”
A strong intense white light gathered in Ayako’s fists. Murashige’s spirit put up no resistance. Anguish twisted Ayako’s face. This spirit was no demon. She knew it wasn’t. Why, then, did it have to die by her hand?
(The demon is within me...)
He appeared before me to point out the doubt inside my own heart. He tested me in Shintarou’s form to force me to realize the depth of the suspicion taking root inside me. It has been spreading inside me for so long. If there is a demon, then it is the shape-shifted form of my own weakness.
(Yet I must kill you.)
Now I am the one making self-centered excuses.
Power gathered in her fists. Ayako finally raised anguished, grimly determined eyes.
I’m sorry.
—An apology to both Murashige and Shintarou.
The light reached its limit. Ayako proclaimed, “«Choubuku»!”
Released, the intense incandescence of her «choubukuryoku» engulfed the entire area, swallowing Murashige’s spirit and bearing it away to the other side. Rairen and Takaya both shielded themselves, riding out its fury.
Ayako stood unflinching within the swirling tempest in solemn farewell to the departed soul.
Night fell once more.
“We need to perform «choubuku» right now! Naoe!” Takaya commanded. The onryou were in confusion at the loss of their target, and their power had lost its focus in their disappointment or rage.
“At your command!”
“Curse you! Do not think to leave this place alive, Uesugi!!” Rairyuu yelled, recommencing a fierce attack. Naoe and Ayako shielded Takaya and countered with everything they had. A furious Rairyuu attempted to break through, but he was no match against three Uesugi Yasha.
“Rairyuu, we are at a disadvantage... Be careful!”
“Graaaaaaah—!”
“...!”
A terrifying amount of power radiated from Rairyuu, and Naoe and Ayako faltered for a moment. The ground shook.
(This man is a monster...!)
Cracks ran through the earth as pure savage will advanced on them. They were being pushed back...?!
“...O tengu!”
At Takaya’s command, the tengu dropped on Rairyuu from above in a kamikaze attack. At the same time, Takaya released the energy of the Divine Demon King within himself in a single burst. There was a great explosion between them.
“Graaaaah!!”
It blasted Rairyuu into the air, and he tumbled down to the embankment.
“Rairyuu!”
Takaya, Naoe, and Ayako protected themselves from the explosion with a «shield». They faced the swarm of Araki onryou, which had also been battered and weakened by the blast.
“ (bai)!”
It was easy now to bind the ragged spirits. The paralyzed wraiths pleaded for forgiveness with panic on their faces.
“Noumakusamanda bodanan baishiramandaya sowaka, Namu Tobatsu Bishamonten! For this demon subjugation, lend us thy power!”
«Power» gathered quickly in Takaya’s hands, in the ritual symbol of Bishamonten. He waited until the radiance was at its peak before proclaiming, “«Choubuku»!”
The blinding light swallowed more than seven hundred onryou. It swirled and coiled around the souls of those unrequited dead and took them gently, quietly, into the other world.
The sound of sirens approached, likely heralding the imminent arrival of the police.
The aftermath of the deadly struggle was dismal indeed. The embankment had collapsed, Asagiri Bridge destroyed, its girders warped out of all recognition. The damage may even have extended to the Byoudou-in.
“Aaa...gh.”
Takaya canted to one side as the pain returned, and Naoe supported him.
“It’s because the Divine Demon King’s power has left you, yes? Can you walk?”
“...I’m fine...” Takaya said, shaking him off. “What happened to Rairen and company?”
“They made their escape rather quickly. I suppose they disliked their odds in continuing the fight.”
“Th...at monster. We would’ve been in trouble without the Divine Demon King’s aid.”
Pain ran from his chest to the back of his neck, and it hurt to take even small breaths. Takaya lifted his head to gaze at the river bank.
The tattered corpse-hair mandala lay at the water’s edge, discarded. The Ikkou Sect had no further use for it now that the Araki spirits were gone. Naoe went forward and picked it up with both hands.
“Those poor people...” he murmured. “Such butchery...could there be a more irrational and regretful death? The powerless are never more than convenient tools to the powerful. They live and die at the selfish whims of others.”
“...”
“Even if Murashige was weak in comparison to Nobunaga...the strong cannot comprehend the pain of the weak. They don’t want to. It’s easy to create divisions between people, isn’t it? Those with power, those without. It’s that simple. As long as that line exists, mutual universal understanding between all peoples can only be an illusion.” Naoe coolly cast down his eyes. “Where should the powerless find an outlet for their resentment...?”
Takaya gave Naoe a sidelong glance at the implicit accusation in his words.
“That these sacrificed souls could not be saved except by such violent and confrontational means...is intolerable.” Naoe closed his eyes and pressed his hands together.
Takaya turned away as if to evade Naoe’s quiet blade.
The powerful and the powerless. Was it possible for human beings to dispense with such distinctions?
He lifted his eyes to see Ayako standing motionless with her back towards them, facing the crumbled bridge.
“Haruie...”
The wind swept her hair out behind her, tangling the long tresses.
She didn’t seem to have heard Naoe.
She only gazed fixedly at the eastern sky, stained with the colors of sunrise.
It was several hours later when news of the collapse of the Amagasaki human pillar plan reached Kennyo, eleventh head of Ikkou Hongan Temple.
“Damn Rairen. So he has failed,” he muttered to himself in a sonorous baritone. Dressed in black-dyed vestments, he was seated at the front of the spacious wood-floored main building of some unknown temple. “There was interference from the Uesugi. Rairyuu was with him, but he was careless—perhaps because he had heard that Kagetora-dono is not yet fully himself.”
Kennyo turned to the young man sitting behind him, his posture perfectly faultless. “...It is as you have heard. The ‘Araki Cannon’ at Amagaski was not completed.”
“Your accord with the Mouri is now broken. What will you do?” the young man asked, and Kennyo let out a quiet, irritated snort.
“Our alliance with the Mouri will be formed with or without the Cannon. Amagasaki is crucial, and we must take it sooner or later. If we had succeeded in building the ‘Araki Cannon,’ our position would have been secure. With such a foundation I believe we would have triumphed even against Oda’s ‘trump card.’”
“I wonder...” the young man answered quietly, chin lifting. His long hair swayed against his broad back. “With that swarm of onryou in your arsenal, your war potential would have been greatly increased. Yet to equal Oda’s ‘new weapon’ would have been difficult. It is said to be the ultimate weapon—that its breath alone has the power to send you flying to your death.”
“Is it so terrible? So powerful that even the Araki onryou would not have been a match for it?”
“I saw but a glimpse of the destructive energy he wielded in Nikkou, and it was terrifying. I wish you had witnessed it with your own eyes. With such a bulwark, all the onshou will be silenced when Oda sets out on his conquest of the «Yami-Sengoku».”
Kennyo’s angular face stiffened, and he gulped down a breath. “Is there nothing which will counter this ‘weapon’? Now that we have lost the Araki onryou, can anything be a match for it?”
“...It would be virtually impossible to create such a thing,” the young man asserted, lifting hazel eyes. “Since we have nothing that can stand against it, we must destroy it before our enemy can use it. While it is powerless. While its ‘Seed of the Demon King’ is still frozen. We must—”
“Kill...him?”
“For that we need your cooperation, Kennyo-dono.”
Kennyo fixed a stern glare on his companion. Then he slowly flicked out his sleeves and quietly put his hands together in prayer with his prayer beads between them.
“Namu Amida...namu Amida...” He chanted several times before looking up again. “All that we do, we do in service of the teachings of Amida Nyorai.”
“Assassination and murder are the specialty of the ninjas of the Fuuma. We will undertake the role of assassin,” Fuuma Kotarou said from the shadows, his bold, finely chiseled features facing Kennyo directly. “We will kill ‘Narita Yuzuru.’”
Epilogue: 100,000,000,000 Dawns
“Well done, Director.” Naoe, dressed in a black suit, greeted Hazama in the conference room’s lobby. Closing remarks had just wrapped. His entire agenda in Kyoto complete, Hazama’s face softened a little in relief to see Naoe in the exiting bustle.
“What have you been up to? Going AWOL like that—you’re disqualified as a secretary.”
“I apologize for having worried you.” Naoe bowed deeply.
It had been several days since he had seen Hazama last—not since that night, in fact. He’d left word, but had been away dealing with the earth-bound spirits at Amagasaki..
“It’s been quiet—I suppose that means you’ve put everything to rights?”
Naoe nodded, his wise copper-brown eyes narrowing. “How have you been holding up, Director?”
“I’ve played my hand. There is nothing more I can do. Is there a future for me or my company? Who knows?” Hazama answered bluntly, looking at Naoe with warmth. Naoe handed over the long narrow wooden box he was carrying.
“Here is the corpse-hair mandala I borrowed.” He hung his head in shame. “I am afraid it has sustained considerable damage. My sincerest apologies. I will reimburse you for it...”
“What a odd piece of business. Who’d believe that something like this could be worth 50,000,000 yen? Yeesh.” Naoe looked at him with remorse. Hazama gave him a bright grin in return. “Don’t worry about it. Just pretend that tanuki cheated us out of the 50,000,000. And besides, I’ve decided not to sell this mandala,” he said. “I’ll ask some temple to hold a memorial service over it and let it sleep. It’s bad luck to trade in the hatred and grudges of our ancestors, don’t you think, Tachibana...?”
“Director.”
Hazama smiled at Naoe, the fondness in his expression almost like that of a man gazing at his own son. He glanced down and away somewhat bashfully and lightly scratched the tip of his nose.
“I wasn’t going to say this, but when I look at you, I feel like I can say anything.”
“What is it?”
“Come work for me.”
Naoe’s eyes widened. The words had been lightly spoken, and Hazama was smiling faintly, but Naoe could see the seriousness in the depths of his eyes.
“My company is sinking. I don’t know where we’re headed. I probably won’t be able to pay you as much as you’re worth, but now is exactly the time I am most in need of excellence. I want you to help me rebuild this company. Precisely because we’re at the edge of the cliff,” Hazama told the tall young man with perfect sincerity. “Come be my right hand.”
“...”
The graveness of Naoe’s expression held for a moment before gentling. He slowly bowed.
“Thank you so very much.”
Naoe’s head remained inclined for a long moment, and Hazama sighed lightly. The faint smile on his face turned wry.
“...Well, I knew it was a long shot.” He added regretfully as Naoe raised his head, “I suppose it was selfish of me. It’s all right, I knew what your response would be. But I had to try.”
“You have many employees who are devoted to you heart and soul. Okumura and the entire secretarial staff—they are all prepared to fight with you to the last. So will the other departments. With you as its heart and your people united, the company cannot fail.”
“‘People are the fortifications, people are the castle?’ You’re right. There are many I can depend on.” Heartened, Hazama held his bony, masculine hand out to Naoe. “Thank you. I am grateful to you from the bottom of my heart.”
“...I am sorry I cannot help.”
“Nonsense. You already have,” he said, gripping Naoe’s hand strongly. The heat of his palm was invigorating.
“You are a great leader,” Naoe said with sincere admiration. “I have genuinely liked you.”
“If you ever quit working for the boy, let me know. There’ll be a desk for you in the secretarial office,” Hazama said with that staunch smile. “Take care of yourself.” He clapped Naoe’s broad back before heading for the door and the car waiting for him. Naoe bowed deeply toward his departing figure.
Hazama noticed Takaya standing outside the glass doors. There was no reciprocal recognition from the young man. As he passed by, Hazama suddenly stopped and said to him, “You’ve got a great man there, sonny.”
“...”
“He’s the sort of person whose true worth you feel only in his absence. Don’t let that happen—treasure him.”
Takaya’s eyes slid to Hazama as he climbed into the waiting Crown. He watched the car move away from the entrance and disappear into the flow of traffic.
“Did you...want to go with him?” Takaya asked without turning. Naoe had come to stand next to him, his gaze following after Hazama.
“He was brusque but full of conviction...like the commanders of old. A vassal could die for a man like that without regret.” Naoe gave Takaya a dry, sardonic look. “We could have done great work together.”
Takaya tilted his head slightly and closed his eyes. A faint smile curved his lips. “You could...go with him,” he whispered. Naoe’s shoulders shivered slightly. Takaya stood unmoving.
“Are you...in earnest?”
“...Loyalty cannot exist without reward, can it?” Takaya lifted his head and met Naoe’s gaze directly. “If you’re not happy, why not turn your back on the master who refuses to feed you and run to someone rich and kind? Even a dog can break his chains.”
“...”
“I don’t want to bind you,” Takaya said, walking away. He paused on the sidewalk to look over his shoulder. “But if you go, you’ll be nothing but a dog running away with its tail between its legs. If you don’t want to be a loser, beat me. If you can do that, then—”
“...!”
“I’ll...let you embrace me.”
Naoe glared sharply at Takaya. At that moment, for just a moment, Takaya eyes betrayed a heartrending yearning—or was that just his imagination?
Takaya looked up at the sky, thrust his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, and walked off alone.
Naoe remained in place, motionless.
Something white fell softly out of the sky and melted on the shoulder of his coat.
The Capital’s first snow danced in the cold evening air.
Morning on the banks of Kamo River was even colder.
The breeze off the river was piercing, and gloveless hands quickly grew numb.
Takaya gazed at Ayako’s back from the promenade along the bank. Ayako was at the water’s edge, tossing out popcorn to the water birds gathered there.
He approached and commented, “They’re really gobbling it up. They must be hungry in the winter.”
“Who knows? They’re Kyoto birds, so they probably prefer boiled tofu.”
“Crap, now you‘ve even got the pigeons’ attention.”
Pigeon lunged at the scattered popcorn around them. Smiling, Ayako asked, “Want some?”
There wasn’t much left, but Takaya took some of the leftover pieces in his hand and held it aloft. Small birds swooped out of the air to peck at his offering. Takaya laughed.
“That tickles!”
“How’re your wounds?”
“They’re fine. The doctor said that my bones are healed, at least. There were injuries to my lungs, but nothing serious. Of course there was stuff about not overdoing things, blah blah.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Ayako shook out the bag and sat down on the concrete. Beside her, Takaya grinned at a tiny bird playing between his fingers.
“Are you all right?” he asked, giving the bird a boost up into the sky. “This case...it was painful for you.”
Ayako hugged her knees. There was still a shadow on her face as she looked out at the river.
“I’m sorry about the harsh things I said. I said them even though I do understand your feelings.”
“I should be the one apologizing, not you. I’m sorry. I caused you trouble.”
“Trouble...”
“It’s all right, I understand. You should have «exorcised» me for protecting Murashige.”
Takaya’s face stiffened slightly. “I... Nee-san.”
Ayako interrupted before Takaya could say the words. “I’m sorry. I’m the one who made things difficult for you. You—”
Takaya looked up—
“—carry all the painful things alone, so even more so: ‘I’m sorry.’ I told myself that I would never cause you trouble, that I wouldn’t be an annoyance. It’s because of you that we’ve lived this long. You support us just by being here. I can’t help lift your burdens, but I never wanted to make you worry...” Ayako said, and Takaya’s dark eyes lowered. She looked cold; Takaya sat down next to her.
“That’s really not true—I lean on all of you quite a lot. So don’t worry about leaning on me,” Takaya responded, so very gently that it pained Ayako. She hugged her legs hard.
“When he lost his arm, I took its place. So that I could perform a little of its service. Like this,” Ayako said, pressed against Takaya’s right side. She peered at his face. “It was strange. Sometimes I felt that missing arm cradling my shoulders. Shintarou-san said that there were times when he could feel its fingers itching, and I felt it too. I’ve never heard of a ghost-arm, but it always held me in its warmth.”
And at those times, Shinarou would look at her and smile...
She fell silent. Traffic was sparse on the still-dim streets, and around them there was only the murmur of the river. In the quiet dawn she could almost believe that time was running backwards.
Shintarou had been right here: if she were to stand in the same spot at daybreak as he had, would she be connected to him, able to touch him somehow? To sense some lingering scent of him?
“Someone...once said,” Takaya said, “that our feelings permeate into the mountains and rivers, and never disappear...”
“I can feel him.” Ayako buried her face in her hands. “I know it’s him—his heart. It’s here.”
“...Nee-san.”
“I’ll meet him again.” Ayako lifted her head, smiling. But a tiny tear rolled down her cheek.
Her voice faded and choked into silence, and she buried her face in her hands once more. Takaya looked at her with pained sympathy.
“I’ll always be his right hand... I’m a part of him, and he’ll find me.”
She didn’t doubt anymore. She would never doubt again.
I make this vow here and now to you, my beloved, who must still be out there somewhere—
“I’ll keep living...I’ll never give up,” she asseverated. You, my only love...
“For you.”
Takaya put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her close. “You’ll meet again,” Takaya whispered like a prayer.
(I’m sure we will meet again...)
The warmth made her chest ache with melancholy.
Ayako buried her face against him and began to cry.
For the nostalgic illusion of the man at the river’s edge...
The ceaseless murmur of the river was subsumed at last beneath the stirring of the ancient city.
Morning had come again.
Takaya gazed at the eastern sky, bright now with the rising sun.
How many nights and dawns had this thousand-year-old capital seen?
Yet here it was welcoming another sunrise.
Another morning of peerless strength, which cradled the profundity of all doubt and loneliness.
On this new day they will once again walk the ground beneath which so many priceless lives, so many lost loves were buried.
(Maybe today will be day I find him.)
She believed. Hoped.
Takaya tightened his hand around her shoulders and buried his face against her hair.
She wanted to believe in miracles...
That ‘one day’ would turn into ‘today.’
That she would again be able to share the ever-present pain in her chest.
She prayed for that morning.
Ayako’s sobs went on and on.
Takaya held her wordlessly.
A flock of water birds took wing from the winter-bound Kamo River.
The sun of a new day rose over the burnished eastern mountains.
END