Short Stories from the Fire Hunter Universe
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Birds called out loud and fierce at dawn from their nests in the trees above the village.
The village itself was in an uproar. Warashi, the village’s Guardian God, had vanished.
The elderly Mrs. Okudo always got up before dawn to tend to the shrine devoted to the Guardian God. She brought in flowers and tidied up.
When Mrs. Okudo went to tend to the shrine this morning, she found the sanctuary empty. Warashi had vanished into thin air. She screamed.
Villagers gathered to assist Mrs. Okudo immediately, leaving their field work and weaving undone. Nearly the entire village crowded around the shrine, peering inside. For every day that they could remember, there had always been a tiny Guardian God in the shrine, small enough to fit in the palms of their hands. Warashi looked like a little child, with white hair and green eyes. She was said to be an avatar of Princess Tayura, the leader of all the Guardian Gods. Every village had its own Guardian God like Warashi. The village Guardian Gods were responsible for maintaining the barriers that kept Fire Fiends out.
And now Warashi was gone.
By dawn, the village was awash with new rumors. A heavy, uneasy atmosphere lingered close to the ground.
“This has never happened before.”
“What if the Fire Fiends get in? What do we do?”
All the elderly men and women in the village bowed before the empty shrine and prayed. Some wept as they repeated their orisons over and over again.
Mrs. Okudo was, perhaps, the most distraught. Several women crouched around her on the floor of the shrine, seeking to comfort her. But the frail old woman could not be comforted.
“Did someone steal Warashi?” Mrs. Okudo asked.
“Who would do such a dreadful thing?” one of her minders asked.
Mrs. Okudo straightened her shoulders. “No! I know it! It was that outsider who did it!” Her bloodshot eyes opened wide. “She came here as a bride from that unlucky village, and out of pity, we tried so hard to look after her! She’s so ungrateful! Why would she do such a terrible thing?!”
Just then, a child named Nanashu who had climbed onto a gravestone to peer over the adults’ heads into the shrine felt the ground beneath his feet buckle. “Ah!”
The grave was made of five stacked stones. It collapsed, and Nanashu fell to the ground.
On the other side of the bridge, there were women working in the weaving sheds. The young bride who had come to the village earlier in the year hadn’t left her work to go to the shrine. Several weavers had continued their work despite all the commotion.
The bride had come to the village that spring. Ever since, strange things had been happening inside the village. There were earthquakes, and Fire Fiends wandered closer to the barrier at night. Nanashu had heard Fire Fiends howling more than once since the season changed.
And then there was that star. A few days ago, Nanashu and the rest of the villagers had seen a shooting star streak across the sky. The unusual sight woke everyone, even people who had already gone to bed. Perhaps that star was a sign? It might have been a harbinger of coming change.
Nanashu had no idea what the star meant, if anything. He didn’t know what Warashi vanishing meant, either. His village was small, and news from elsewhere rarely reached it.
Nanashu’s sudden cry drew everyone’s attention.
“Hey, you fool! Who steps on a grave? You little brat!”
“Don’t tell me you stole Warashi as a prank!” The adults glared at Nanashu, their faces dark and stern like demons.
Nanashu hurriedly stood up and raised his palms in front of his face. “No, no! It wasn’t me! I didn’t do it, and nobody could possibly steal Warashi, could they?”
“Idiot. Kids shouldn’t talk so big,” one man said. He sighed in disgust.
“Don’t bother with him,” another man said. “He’s got no family to look after him.”
The adults turned their backs on Nanashu. He ran off, pausing to stick his tongue out at the mean grown-ups. “Shut up! If you keep saying bad things about people, you’ll be punished! Maybe that’s why Princess Tayura took Warashi away from us!”
Everyone in the shrine heard Nanashu’s shout as he ran off.
It was past dawn, and the shrine was well-lit with morning sunshine. The people of the village set out for the forest’s border to ask the Tree People if they knew what had become of Warashi. The Tree People didn’t know. They found a passing Fire Hunter, but he had no more information than the Tree People did. Warashi was gone; why was unknown.
The villagers panicked and decided to prepare a human sacrifice like they’d done in the bad old days before Fire Hunters started delivering fuel to use. They had no productive outlet for their rage or confusion, so they sought a scapegoat.
Nanashu spent the afternoon watering the fields and pulling weeds close to the weaving huts. The weavers worked until sunset, spinning thread and weaving it on the looms. They sold the excess cloth they’d made whenever the black carts passed through the village. Nanashu wondered if the silkworms felt like the weavers did. They, too, had their excess harvested and changed into something else.
The village nearest to his specialized in harvesting silkworms. He could see it from atop one of the village’s high hills. The silkworm village was built above the weaving village, but a person in one village could see the other. They were like twins, both making a living by selling the cloth produced from each village’s labor to the capital.
I wonder how the silkworm village is different…
Nanashu daydreamed about going to the silkworm village often, but of course he’d never been there. He knew that the silkworm village was upstream, and he’d heard that the whole village revolved around caring for the silkworms. The paper mulberry trees that dotted the silkworm village’s border provided food and shade for the silkworms. The soil was said to be good, so the silkworm village could grow most of its own food. There wouldn’t be many people weaving there. Nanashu couldn’t imagine living in a place where the clack-clack of the looms wasn’t constant background noise.
Sometimes villagers did go back and forth between the silkworm village and the weaving village with the help of the Tree People, who lived between the two villages. When either village was short-handed, they would send workers or brides to the other. However, this was a rare occurrence. A bride who arrived in the village before the spring was considered a complete outsider—someone whose arrival no one expected or desired.
Across the field, a ten-year-old girl about as tall as Nanashu was soothing her crying infant brother. She’d placed him in a basket so he could nap in the shade of the trees, but he refused to settle. The other children working in the field—there were almost a dozen of these—made no move to help her.
Nanashu didn’t help her, either. He kept his distance from all of the field workers. He was used to this. The village considered him unlucky, since he had no family to care for him. They had all died, leaving him alone. He was known as a child who had escaped death, and no one wanted to be near him. Children disliked him even more than adults did.
Warashi was gone, but the barrier around the village still seemed to be working. There was no sign of Fire Fiends in the village or in the nearby forest. Time passed as usual, and people started thinking that nothing was really wrong. People peeled away from the shrine and returned to work as more and more days passed in safety. Eventually, only a few elders tended to the shrine while everyone else resumed their usual schedules. Curious children were quickly driven away from the shrine by loud scolding and raised fists.
If only I were a Fire Hunter, Nanashu thought. Then I could go into the Black Forest whenever I wanted. I’d have a dog to fight by my side. He’d kill the Fire Fiends that terrify the villagers and bring back fire fuel for everyone. Maybe then people wouldn’t avoid me, and I could help the poor bride.
But there was no use in daydreaming, not really. Nanashu was a child who had escaped death, and there was no way to change that.
A bug crawled across Nanashu’s arm, its back glistening in sunlight. He didn’t bother to brush it away. The bug eventually flew off on its own, rising up like it wanted to fly into the sun.
***
Just before noon, a letter from the silkworm village floated down the river. The letter was sealed inside a wooden box to protect it.
“It seems the same thing is happening in the silkworm village as well.”
The silkworm village wrote that their Guardian God had disappeared, but that their barrier was still functional. No Fire Fiends had broken into the village yet.
News from the silkworm village spread from person to person like wildfire. No one knew exactly what was happening, but there was a certain amount of relief to be had in knowing that they weren’t alone in what they were experiencing.
That evening, Nanashu finished his work and then went to wash the small bundle of greens he’d taken home from the field to be his dinner. He cooled his feet in the river water as others came to the riverside to wash dishes and draw water. For a few brief moments before they had to go home to help make dinner, children splashed and played in the shallows of the river. It was almost the end of spring, so the day was warm and there would be many warmer days ahead.
The children laughed as they splashed water at each other. Nanashu never joined in. He sat apart on a cool stone and kicked his legs underwater. The dry grass stuck between his toes came loose and floated away. More grass and dirt fell off the feet of the children playing. Nanashu had to use the water downstream from other people, so his water was always dirtier than everyone else’s. He used the water that other people had used to clean dirty diapers to wash the evening’s vegetables.
The days grew longer in summer, so the sun was still shining even though the day’s work was over. Nanashu watched the other children playing and smiled a little at the peaceful scene.
The leader of some of the rougher kids, Touki, approached Nanashu boldly. “Oi! I heard it was you who stole Warashi. Is that true?” Droplets of river water dripped from the bottom of his pants.
Touki alone had no compunctions about confronting Nanashu at any time of day. He liked trying to pick a fight and went out of his way to show hostility to Nanashu. Nanashu often wished that Touki would ignore him like everyone else did.
“No,” Nanashu answered. “Of course not. The other village’s Guardian God vanished, too, and there’s no way I could have done that.”
“There might be someone like you up there too,” Touki said. “Maybe you both did it.”
Nanashu stood up on the stone. Touki was taller than he was, and his shoulders and arms were thick with muscle from all his work in the fields. Nanashu couldn’t intimidate Touki physically.
“Shut up,” Nanashu grumbled. “How would I even know what was happening up in the silkworm village? It’s not like we can send messages back easily. If you want to know what happened up there so bad, why not go there yourself and ask?”
Sensing the tense atmosphere, a few people picked up their baskets of vegetables and left the riverbank.
Touki stepped forward, his face like thunder as he stood up straight and puffed out his chest. He could intimidate Nanashu easily.
Nanashu sensed danger, but the only easy way to retreat was to jump into the cold river.
“Don’t act all high and mighty,” Touki said. “You’re a person who escaped death; everyone knows you’re cursed. If you didn’t do it, then that outsider bride did.”
“Huh?” Nanashu asked. He was angry enough to fight, but if he did, he was sure that this confrontation wouldn’t end with just a bruise. He still couldn’t back down. The last time he’d gotten into a real fight with Touki, Touki had kicked out one of his front teeth and ripped a handful of hair out of his scalp. He’d vowed that the next time they fought, he would break Touki’s nose at the very least.
“Hey now, don’t start fighting. If you hurt your mouth, you won’t be able to eat dinner,” the unlucky bride said from the river bank. She was standing fairly close to Nanashu, though he hadn’t seen her there before.
Touki’s fierce aura calmed almost instantly. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said.
The bride tilted her slender neck. Her loose hair fell straight over one shoulder.
Touki fumed in silence, then spun on his heel and ran back to his family’s hut.
“He can’t help it—he’s at that rebellious age. Little Nanashu, you shouldn’t be fighting, either. You two need to get along.” She smoothed her apron with her palms.
“Don’t call me ‘little,’ Nanashu said.
The bride, Hotaru, chuckled. Her voice echoed over the river’s surface. “Why not let me? You’re just like my little brother.” She said this often. Nanashu had never asked her if she’d left her younger brother behind in her home village. Even if she had,
Hotaru had been pale and thin when she’d first arrived. Long days spent hard at work had caused her to lose even more weight. Mrs. Okudo worked Hotaru harder than any of the other weavers in the village. She was a cruel taskmaster ordinarily, and she was even harsher with Hotaru.
Hotaru watched the other children run away from the river. “There’s something terrible happening in this village, isn’t there?” she asked. “I can feel it. I was sent away from my own village because the soil went bad suddenly.”
The sun was going down. Shadows of dusk fell over the river and the trees. The last light of the sun caught Hotaru’s hair and shone.
“I was sent away to ward off further misfortune,” Hotaru said. “I thought my village would be safe. I never thought I’d bring harm to this village… but maybe I have,” she said. Her eyes narrowed. She fell silent for a long moment, thinking. Blue shadows gathered in the hollows of her gaunt cheeks.
“That’s not possible,” Nanashu said. He pouted and then sat down next to Hotaru.
“I hope you’re right,” she said.
“Of course I am. The Guardian God disappeared in the other village, too. Whatever’s happening there and here has nothing to do with you or me.”
Hotaru lowered her gaze to the river’s surface as if she wanted to wash away all of her heavy fatigue in the water. She nodded.
Not long after she’d started living in this village, Hotaru lamented to Nanashu that she was disappointed there were no insects here. They’d been sitting by the river then, just like now. She had thought that the weaving village would have silkworms. Hotaru had ridden in a black cart with a friend who had married into a beekeeping village. Nanashu knew that bees and silkworms were totally different, though he’d never seen either one.
Hotaru missed her friends like she missed the conspicuously absent insects. She thought about the friends and family she’d left behind every single day. Nanashu watched her waste away, toiling for long hours without enough food, and he worried about her. He felt like she would eventually be as thin as a pencil, and that Mrs. Okudo would erase her like a line on a page.
“Nothing that’s happening is your fault, Miss Hotaru,” Nanashu said. He pressed the soles of his feet firmly against the surface of the stone he sat on. The stone had been warmed by the sun all day, but it quickly cooled as dusk fell.
“You’re very kind, Nanashu,” Hotaru said. “Thank you.”
This just showed that Hotaru was an outsider to his village. None of the villagers who were born here would thank him for anything.
“Miss Hotaru, you probably shouldn’t talk to me too much,” Nanashu said. “I’m a child who escaped death. If you linger near me too long, you might catch my curse.”
Hotaru had been isolated from most people in the village since her arrival. Previously, Hotaru had made pottery in her village, but now she had to learn everything from scratch. The weaving loom, carding and spinning thread were all unfamiliar to her. She prepared meals, mended clothes, took care of chickens and wove all day on the loom. She did everything she was told and never complained.
As harshly as Hotaru was treated, she felt real sympathy for Nanashu. She didn’t understand why a child should be shunned and scorned like he was.
Ikkou, Hotaru’s husband, rarely spoke more than two words to her in a line. The other weavers didn’t speak to her, either.
“Curses aren’t contagious,” Hotaru said. “You’re acting like you have some kind of disease. Clearly you don’t, or you wouldn’t be well enough to pick fights with Touki. See? You’re already cured.” She said this in a light, sing-song tone. Sometimes she would sing while she worked at the loom or while carrying water from the river to the fields. Hotaru only sang when she was alone.
Once, she was severely scolded for singing. She secretly confided this to Nanashu after he found her crying alone in the bushes by the riverbank. Hotaru never told him who had made her cry, but he knew that Mrs. Okudo was responsible.
Nanashu had laughed after seeing Mrs. Okudo’s panic when Warashi went missing. Serves her right, he’d thought.
A small wooden box floated down the river in front of Hotaru and Nanashu. Hotaru noticed first and waded in a few steps to retrieve the box.
Nanashu knew that letters from the silkworm village came down the stream twice a day. Usually, the fishermen caught the boxes in their nets and hauled them in, but they’d missed this one. Nanashu slid down from is rock and accepted the box from Hotaru’s hands. The box’s edges were sealed tight with wax. It didn’t resemble the boxes that the silkworm village typically sent their messages in.
“What could it be?” Hotaru asked.
“If we open it here, we’ll get scolded. Let’s take it to the village chief tomorrow,” Nanashu said.
Hotaru stood up straight and reached out her hand to Nanashu. Nanashu didn’t accept her hand; it would be embarrassing to walk through the village holding hands like little kids. Hotaru withdrew her hand with a little frown and walked beside Nanashu.
As they walked, Nanashu regretted not accepting Hotaru’s hand. He took out his frustration with himself by gripping the box he carried even tighter.
***
The box contained a letter from a wandering Fire Hunter who was visiting the silkworm village. Nanashu read the letter aloud to his grandfather. His grandfather seemed surprised by what he read. Nanashu told him how he and Hotaru had found the box floating downstream as he scarfed down a bowl of rice porridge.
Nanashu’s grandfather nodded thoughtfully. “It says here that something terrible has happened in the capital. The reason our Guardian God vanished is that Princess Tayura herself vanished. There is a new ruler in the capital now.”
“Oh,” Nanashu said.
“This seems like very important news,” Hotaru said.
Nanashu swallowed his last spoonful of rice porridge. His grandfather finished eating as well. There was a bit of rice porridge stuck in the old man’s beard. He would never allow the beard to be trimmed because he was terrified of knives. He was blind, so he needed assistance cleaning himself up after meals. Nanashu performed this duty without complaint.
The house wasn’t as well-tended as the man. Old spills marked the floor and strange smells wafted through the rooms. Flies buzzed around the house no matter how often Nanashu chased them off.
“Important, yes, but not very significant,” Nanashu’s grandfather said. “There’s a new ruler in the capital now, but so what? When your father, mother, and all your brothers and sisters died, that was much harder. The whole family fell ill, and in the end, you caught the sickness too…”
Nanashu interrupted his grandfather with a snort. “That’s not the same at all,” he said. “You always told me that the Guardian Gods and the Fire Hunters were the reason we could build villages safely in the first place. Now the greatest of all the Guardian Gods has been replaced by a human ruler. Isn’t that important and significant?”
“It’s the same,” Nanashu’s grandfather said from a mouth of broken teeth. “No matter who sits at the top, a little village like this won’t change. Indulging in superfluous things brings only misfortune. If someone from this house hadn’t gone out early to catch fish one morning, the whole village might have been poisoned. The villagers cut off contact with this house and waited for us to die. Thanks to that, the illness didn’t spread elsewhere. You and I almost died, and the rest of the family did. In all the commotion this time, something similar might happen. I’ve lived here for so many years that I can usually predict what will happen. News of a new king means nothing but more unpleasant things to come.”
Nanashu washed the bowls, chopsticks and teacups after dinner and then turned off the house’s egg-shaped lantern. Nanashu was the only one in the house who needed the light, of course. His grandfather’s parents had blinded him shortly after he was born so that he wouldn’t need light. For a short time every night, Nanashu and his grandfather sat in their house together in complete darkness. Nanashu’s night vision was fairly good, so he didn’t mind going without the light sometimes.
“Princess Tayura was the highest-ranked of all the Guardian Gods,” Nanashu’s grandfather said. “I always knew someone else would take her place one day. And now, that’s happened.” He opened a box of chewing tobacco in the growing dark and laughed: a deep, raspy sound. “I wonder who’s in charge now. They’ve turned the capital topsy-turvy. Anyone who opposes them will be kicked down. They probably have more food than they can ever eat. I don’t know who they are, but I hope they’ll leave us alone.” He chewed tobacco after that and said little else.
So far, Nanashu’s grandfather’s hope was granted. Warashi had vanished, true, but the rest of village life was exactly the same. Time would tell for certain whether life would change or not. Nanashu wondered if black carts would still come to trade the cloth that the villagers made for other things. He wondered if the black carts would come at all. There were no answers to his questions anywhere. He slept fitfully. When he woke, it felt like he hadn’t slept at all.
***
Every morning without fail, Mrs. Okudo tried to hang herself from the camellia tree outside the cemetery. It took five people to stop her.
Aside from that daily disturbance, life continued on as usual. Spring changed to summer. Gray storm clouds hovered over the village and poured rain. The vegetation around the village turned a darker, more vibrant green. The barrier around the village continued to keep Fire Fiends out despite Warashi’s continued absence. Wandering Fire Hunters visited several times, always accompanied by their dogs. The Fire Hunters brought news of the capital. One of their own had become the ruler of the city, and she was responsible for keeping the barriers around the villages working. In exchange for food and a night’s lodging, the Fire Hunters left fire fuel in the hands of the villagers before they returned to the forest.
Tree People also traveled back and forth between the silkworm village and the weaving village, sharing information and trading goods. They brought word that a black cart was on its way here, though it was early in the year for it to come. Most of the time, the black carts came every six months, but the usual schedule had been altered.
“I heard that a black cart is coming,” Hotaru said to Nanashu while they were washing vegetables for dinner. “Do you think that’s true?”
Nanashu understood why Hotaru would ask this question. She’d come to this village on a black cart. She had left her home village and come to this place less than a year ago.
“Stop lollygagging about!” Mrs. Okudo called out from behind Hotaru. “You lazy girl, get back to work!”
Hotaru flinched and turned around. Mrs. Okudo stood there in a persimmon-colored work dress. She glared at Hotaru, and then at Nanashu.
“Don’t just stand there daydreaming,” Mrs. Okudo said. “If you work diligently until the black cart comes, Warashi may return to us. If you don’t work as hard as you can, Warashi will never come back. Didn’t I tell you to wipe down all the treadles? Hurry up, hurry up, get back to the weaving sheds.”
“I’m sorry,” Hotaru said, lowering her head. She was an adult, but she apologized as children did. Without so much as a glance at Nanashu, she ran off toward the weaving sheds.
Mrs. Okudo watched Hotaru go. Nanashu gazed intently at Mrs. Okudo. The thin, bent old woman shot Nanashu a quick sideways glance, then blew a stray lock of her disheveled white hair away from her face. She followed Hotaru toward the weaving sheds. It was almost dark.
How many more days would it be before the next black cart arrived? In early spring, they had sold silk fabric to the black cart. Since then, they’d been making more fabric, but they hadn’t set aside the usual amount for trade. If the black cart arrived too soon, they would have only a bit of fabric ready to sell to the capital and other villages. They might not be able to afford enough fire fuel to last for the rest of the year.
Why was the truck coming so early in the first place? Maybe Nanashu’s grandfather was right, and the new ruler in the capital was trying to change things. Maybe they were trying to show off their own power or get more out of the villages to fund their lavish lifestyle.
Nanashu thought about what the early arrival of a black cart would mean as he walked along a forest path. When he finally arrived home, a strange smell hung thickly in the dark house. Nanashu stopped in his tracks. Then he dashed over to the egg-shaped lantern.
The light of the lantern illuminated his grandfather’s body on the floor. A brown moth that had been fluttering about the house slipped out through the half-open door.
A fly was buzzing around inside the house. It was common for insects to get inside in the summer, but now the sound of the fly’s wings felt intrusive.
Nanashu’s breathing felt loud in his own ears. The terrible smell wouldn’t leave his nose. It was sweet and sweaty and disgusting. Urine and feces made up its undercurrent. He knew those smells well because his parents and siblings had died in their own waste, feverish and delirious.
Fish were a lifeline in the village. They could be caught at any time of year, which made them an important source of food. The barrier only covered a certain portion of the river, though, so competition between the villagers was fierce. The number of fish that were allowed to be caught each day was strictly monitored and controlled.
Nanashu’s family had caught fish in secret. It hadn’t been their turn to fish and they hadn’t declared what they’d caught to the village leader. Their turn would have come in five days, but they’d started fishing early. Late at night, Nanashu’s father and brother caught fish and fed them to Nanashu’s sister, who’d been bedridden for a long time. Nanashu’s sister had been a year older than him. She’d always been sickly, but her health had declined sharply that summer. The family had broken the village rules in the hope that feeding her more fish would give her strength.
Sadly, Nanashu’s sister died first.
The fish the family had eaten was contaminated by some kind of terrible toxin. Nanashu’s sister had been weak to start, and the toxin had killed her outright. Something upstream might have polluted the river, though no environmental cause was ever discovered. Nanashu thought that his family was being punished for breaking the rules.
As Nanashu’s parents had cared for their vomiting, violently ill daughter, they were struck by the same illness. Nanashu’s other siblings also fell sick.
That summer, fishing was completely banned in the village. Not only had Nanashu’s family broken the prohibition by catching fish when it wasn’t their turn, they’d also contracted a contagious disease and were isolated from the rest of the village.
Before long, the entire family was bedridden. Nanashu vomited into holes he dug with his fingers and then buried it. To prevent the illness from spreading to the village, the family didn’t use well water. They used their collected rainwater instead. They were all so sick that there was no one to tend to them except Nanashu, and so they died. Almost all of Nanashu’s family had died that summer. He’d almost died himself.
While his family was being buried, Nanashu fell ill with the same sickness that had killed them. He felt cold all the time and couldn’t keep any food down. He was exhausted to the core. Every time he moved, he felt his bones creaking and his skin stretching.
None of the villagers came to help him. Nanashu remembered hoping that his grandfather would survive, and that the other villagers would take care of him.
Nanashu didn’t die. His aged grandfather cared for him as best he could. He could not fish or hunt, so both of them were soon starving. His grandfather wept over him in the evenings, hungry and miserable and alone.
But now Nanashu’s grandfather was dead.
“Grandpa,” Nanashu said.
There was no reply.
Nanashu shook his shoulders, but nothing happened. Nanashu kept shaking him, wordless and grief-stricken, until he was too exhausted to cling to his grandfather any longer. If he slept, he didn’t remember it.
***
The next morning, the villagers sprinkled a powder over the corpse to ward off Fire Fiends and evil spirits. Nanashu’s grandfather covered in powder was almost unrecognizable. He’d shrunk as he’d aged. Nanashu had never seen him look so small.
Hotaru wept quietly next to the grave. She acted like the loss was hers as much as Nanashu’s. Nanashu was sorry that Hotaru had more pain and grief to bear now. He wished she’d stayed in the weaving sheds today.
The four men who’d helped with the burial put their hands together briefly over the mound of earth. Then they left. Warashi used to watch over the cemetery, but the Guardian God hadn’t returned. Weeds grew sparsely between the graves.
Hotaru stayed by Nanashu’s side after everyone else went away. She placed a small bouquet of wildflowers on the grave.
“You shouldn’t stay, Miss Hotaru,” Nanashu said. “You might get in trouble if you don’t get back to work.”
Hotaru said nothing to that. She looked like an otherworldly visitor who had alighted here to watch over the grave of Nanashu’s grandfather.
***
The day after the modest memorial service, the village was once again thrown into turmoil.
The black carts arrived: two of them, and early. They passed through the village gates one morning. The steel carts were larger than most of the villagers’ homes. Their presence intimidated most people. The villagers were visibly confused by their early arrival.
Nanashu paused from his work tidying the house to go and see the black carts. The smell of burning fuel and hot metal floated through the air. The black carts turned off their engines and boilers, leaving the village square quieter until dogs started barking.
It wasn’t unusual for a black cart to carry a dog or two along with a few Fire Hunters. These two black carts carried dozens of Fire Hunters and their dogs. Nanashu had never seen so many Fire Hunters in one place before.
Dogs leaped out of the black carts and gamboled around the square. The Fire Hunters followed their dogs out of the carts. Under the watchful eyes of the Fire Hunters, the dogs eagerly sniffed around, stretched, played with each other, and relieved themselves.
Weavers hurried into the square, almost all of them women. Hotaru was among them. Her hand was over her gaping mouth.
“I bring news!” a crew member from one of the black carts called out. His news was the same as what this village had learned from the silkworm village and from the message Nanashu and Hotaru had found. There was a new ruler in the capital, the King of the Fire Hunters. The Guardian Gods had willingly surrendered their power to this new ruler.
“Who is this new king?” a villager asked.
The dogs were all at their Fire Hunters’ sides now.
“The King of the Fire Hunters was once a wandering Fire Hunter,” the crew member said. “She is a young woman.”
The crowd grew restless. Nanashu stayed at the edge of it, taking in the news. He noticed Mrs. Okudo rushing forward. Two weavers desperately held her back.
Villagers called out complaints and questions in shrill voices.
“How could some woman of unknown origins possibly be our ruler?”
“She’s a criminal, isn’t she?”
“What happened to Princess Tayura?”
“It seems she has passed away,” the crew member said.
There was a silence. Some people dropped to their knees in shock and wept. The children, who had been cheering and running up to the black carts and the dogs, now stood frozen, bewildered by the adults’ reactions. The smaller children fussed and cried.
“That woman… she is a blasphemer! A heretic! She must have murdered Princess Tayura! Why didn’t the people in the capital stop her? She should be in prison!”
The two weavers holding Mrs. Okudo’s arms tightened their grip as her voice rose in a frenzy. The old woman screamed wildly, her hair in disarray.
The other villagers were stunned by Mrs. Okudo’s display. The crew of these black carts had likely witnessed many scenes like this in other villages.
Mrs. Okudo eventually screamed herself out, and some of the more composed villagers talked to the crew of the black cart about selling their goods and purchasing fire fuel. The villagers forgot their agitation and fear in the face of necessity.
“We will only take as much of the village’s products as you can sell us right now. In exchange, we’ll hunt in the surrounding area for awhile. The village’s and black carts’ share of fire fuel will be divided, with the village receiving the larger share. And then…”
As the crew member spoke, Hotaru broke away from the villagers and dashed off. Nanashu followed her and missed the rest of the crew member’s explanation.
Hotaru’s tied-up hair swayed as she ran toward the black carts. The large doors of the black carts were all open. A large gray-brown dog lingered near the doors, wagging his tail. A girl stood behind the dog. She wore straw sandals and kept her head down, blinking in the light of the sun. Despite the heat, she wore a plum-colored shawl over her hair.
“Kanata! Touko!” Hotaru shouted.
The girl wearing the shawl faced Hotaru. The dog barked a greeting.
Nanashu couldn’t see the girl’s face very well. She was very thin and her eyes appeared unusually large. Nanashu met her gaze briefly and felt a chill go down his spine.
Hotaru crouched down in front of the dog and scratched the beast’s ears. Then she gave the girl a hug.
Nanashu was confused. How did Hotaru know this girl? She was scrawny and sickly. She looked like a stiff breeze could blow her over. The girl leaned on the dog sometimes to keep her steady on her feet. She hugged Hotaru back with trembling arms. The two of them spoke in low voices. Tears coursed down Hotaru’s cheeks. Nanashu watched them, but he didn’t come any closer.
The girl’s eyes were terrifying things. They were voids so deep that Warashi might have vanished in them. Nanashu had never met this girl before and knew he was being unfair to her, but he sensed that there was danger around her. He took a few steps backward and then turned. He decided to go back to the village square.
Nanashu passed by the cemetery. He ran past his grandfather’s grave and through the square. Most of the villagers had dispersed already. Nanashu kept running to his empty house.
***
Nanashu arrived home before sunset. The house was empty, but he still didn’t feel like his grandfather was dead. He forgot about that sometimes: for a second, for an hour. Then he remembered and felt so much worse. He was the only one left in his entire family. He sat down on the kitchen’s wooden floor, feeling small. He watched the sun set through a window.
Dogs barked in the distance. They were probably out hunting in the Black Forest.
Why had the child Hotaru had run to have a dog with her? That girl didn’t look like a Fire Hunter at all. Why had her eyes been so strange and horrifying?
Princess Tayura had passed away. That meant she was dead. Why were all the villagers so shaken by that? People died frequently. A few of the village elders died every year. Babies were born every year, too. Sometimes mothers died after giving birth. People like Nanashu’s family died of disease or were poisoned by something in the Black Forest. This village was small, but death was a frequent visitor. Guardian Gods could die, so Nanashu didn’t particularly care that Princess Tayura finally had. There didn’t seem to be much difference between her death and the deaths of other people.
Night crept slowly over Nanashu. He sat motionless on the kitchen floor.
“Hey, is anyone there?” a Fire Hunter called out. He stood just outside Nanashu’s house with his dog by his side. He lifted a lantern over his head. The dog was short-furred and had one ear pressed to its skull.
Nanashu opened the front door. The dog dashed up to him, wagging its tail. When Nanashu didn’t shrink back, the dog leaped on him and licked his face.
The Fire Hunter chuckled. “Heel, Tsumugi,” he said.
The dog turned briefly back to its master, still wagging its tail.
Nanashu didn’t push the dog away. He wasn’t accustomed to dogs, but he wasn’t scared of them, either. He was surprised at how tough the pads of the dog’s paws felt. The dog looked young and somewhat playful, but the strength of its paw pads spoke of experience in the dangerous forest.
“Get down. Come,” the Fire Hunter commanded.
The dog jumped off of Nanashu and went to the entrance. Like most of the houses in the village, the entrance to Nanashu’s house had a dirt floor. The kitchen and bedrooms were on slightly elevated wooden floors.
“Sorry about that,” the Fire Hunter said. He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. A Fire Hunter’s sickle hung from a scabbard at his waist. Nanashu had never seen one of those sickles up close before. The Fire Hunter smelled like machine oil and the sweet, cloying scent of decay that hung in the Black Forest like a perpetual fog. It was hard to tell the Fire Hunter’s age, but he certainly wasn’t old. His hair was cut short and his face was slightly rounded.
“Why are you sitting in the dark all alone?” the Fire Hunter asked. “It’s supper time in the village. If you go to the square, you can get a hot meal for free. Since we come in such a large group, I’m sure we’re a bother no matter which village we visit.” His accent was unfamiliar.
Nanashu grunted. “Why’d you come out here then? I don’t have any food.” He frowned.
The Fire Hunter shrugged. “I went hunting as soon as I arrived, so I’m starving now. Before I could grab something from the communal kitchen, that little guy ran off.”
“Fire Hunters are supposed to be able to control their dogs, aren’t they?”
The Fire Hunter laughed. “That’s true, but I haven’t been partnered with this one for very long yet. My last dog died during the chaos in the capital.”
He placed his gauntleted hand on the head of the dog, which was still happily wagging its tail. “His master’s still alive, but that Fire Hunter is so injured that he’ll never work again. The dog doesn’t really listen to me yet. He’s a very good hunter, though.” He patted the dog lightly on the head. “Are you here alone? Where’s your family?”
The question irritated Nanashu. “No one’s here,” he said in a low voice.
“Oh,” the Fire Hunter said. “In that case, can you let us stay here? The black carts are staying until morning. There are too many of us for everyone to stay in the square. It’ll be nice to stretch my legs a bit; space was tight in those carts.”
Nanashu had no reason to refuse this request, so he nodded. He was too exhausted to feel much of anything. “You can stay,” he said.
The dog barked.
***
The Fire Hunter’s name was Kakuji. He set down his belongings in Nanashu’s house and then went back to the village square to get some food. Tsumugi followed the Fire Hunter about.
A short time later, Kakuji returned to the house. “I got you some dinner,” he said. “You haven’t eaten anything, have you?” He offered Nanashu a rice ball with greens and some dried fish.
Nanashu accepted the food almost mechanically. He forgot to say thank you.
Kakuji seemed unusually kind for a Fire Hunter. It was hard to imagine him killing monstrous Fire Fiends with his sickle.
“Are you alone in this house?” Kakuji asked. He tossed the tog a bit of his own dried fish.
Nanashu took a bite of his rice ball. He nodded. “My family died from eating bad fish from the river. My grandfather died yesterday.”
“Yesterday?”
“Yeah.”
Kakuji raised an eyebrow in surprise. “I see. …So you own this house now?”
“I guess so. I’m not really sure.” He’d lived in this house since he was a child. It had never occurred to him that he could own it. He’d never thought of this place as one that he needed to protect and maintain, though he’d been doing both those things for a long time. “What is the capital like?” he asked.
Many villagers were likely asking the other Fire Hunters in the village a similar question. The villagers knew little of the world beyond the barrier. The capital was a special place, distant and prosperous. News of Princess Tayura’s death and the new King of the Fire Hunters was almost unbelievable. Everyone must have wanted to know what life in the capital was like now.
Kakuji gave Nanashu an expansive answer. The capital was a huge city connected by dozens of canals and wide roads. It stood on the shore of the sea. Factories operated day and night, puffing out smoke like clouds. Fire Hunters who worked in the capital had to go through one long tunnel to escape the capital’s barrier. Many things were changing in the capital now, though.
“Is the new king bad?” Nanashu asked.
Kakuji tapped his chin, thinking. “I don’t think that’s the problem. I don’t really know her. The city suffered a lot of damage when the capital was attacked. A lot of people died. The new king doesn’t want any more people to die, which is a good thing. I volunteered to go out on the black carts because I want to help.”
Events in the capital felt distant and unreal to Nanashu. His grandfather had revered Fire Hunters, but he’d encountered them rarely. He was curious about the capital and the Fire Hunter, but they didn’t seem to have anything to do with him or his small village.
Kakuji petted Tsumugi and scratched behind his ears. “Would you like to try becoming a Fire Hunter?”
Nanashu answered him with a blank stare.
Kakuji bit his lip. “Tsumugi and I will be staying in the village for a bit,” he said. “Tomorrow, other Fire Hunters will go up the mountain on foot and visit the village near yours. That village also has Fire Hunters and dogs assigned to it. The new king wants to teach the villagers to be Fire Hunters, if they’re willing. I’ve been ordered to instruct as many villagers as I can. Maybe because I look like a kid, people tend to underestimate me. And I’ve never taught another Fire Hunter before, so I’m a little nervous. You seem quick and agile, and you’ll only get stronger from now on. Tsumugi seems to like you too, so it would be convenient to train together.”
Nanashu felt the gloom of dusk settling over his shoulders as he considered Kakuji’s sudden question. Kakuji wasn’t asking him to be a Fire Hunter because he had talent or anything. This was a shot in the dark. Touki was bigger and stronger than him and would certainly be a better candidate. Kakuji was ignorant of Nanashu’s low standing in the village now. Once he found out about it, he would probably regret coming to this house.
Nanashu decided to ignore the Fire Hunter’s offer to teach him for the moment. “I saw a girl on one of the black carts,” he said. “She had a dog with her. Was she a Fire Hunter’s apprentice? She seems to know Hotaru, who lives in our village.”
“Oh, that girl? Hotaru is a weaver, isn’t she? It looked like the girl was going to stay at her house tonight. I think the girl is on her way back to her home village.”
“From the capital?”
The Fire Hunter nodded. “I don’t know all the details, but she came to the capital awhile ago, bringing the dog along with her. It’s unfortunate that they have to go back home in such tumultuous circumstances.”
Nanashu didn’t learn why the girl had the dog with her or why she’d gone to the capital in the first place. Kakuji didn’t know.
The night stretched, feeling longer than usual. Nanashu and Kakuji kept the light on. Nanashu hadn’t turned the light off since the funeral. Only his grandfather had been able to live comfortably in the dark.
Before they went to sleep, Nanashu finally shut off the light. The presence of the Fire Hunter and his dog was comforting. He was glad that he wasn’t alone right now.
Had Hotaru eaten dinner with the girl? He hoped they’d stopped crying at some point. He thought a lot about Hotaru and her friend as he drifted off to sleep.
The next morning when Nanashu woke up, Kakuji and his dog were gone.
Was it just a dream? Nanashu wondered.
A tuft of dog hair blew across his kitchen floor.
Not a dream, then.
The Fire Hunter’s belongings rested near the door.
Nanashu ran to the village square, not even pausing to get a drink of water. Both of the black carts were still parked. Several small children were trying to climb onto the carts, laughing gleefully. A few crew members watched over them. Nanashu saw fewer dogs than he’d noticed yesterday. Kakuji had told him that some of the Fire Hunters had gone to the silkworm village. Perhaps the Tree People had guided them there already.
Kakuji was not among the Fire Hunters walking around the square. Nanashu turned his toes toward the fields and headed there next.
Death didn’t change the circle of days, the patterns and repetitions of the living. There was a new king in the capital, but that altered nothing of importance. The people in the fields kept their distance and barely spoke to Nanashu, as usual. Nanashu felt like people were keeping even more distance between themselves and him today since his grandfather had recently died. Nanashu was his family’s last survivor, spared—but not in mercy.
Nanashu didn’t go out of his way to speak to anyone. He gathered insects that he caught in the fields and then crushed them into a paste using a stick as a pestle.
A brown moth landed on Nanashu’s sweaty cheek as he worked, its thin legs tapping on his skin as he carried out an insect massacre. He snatched at the moth in irritation, but it flew away before he could catch it.
Wasn’t that the same moth that had been inside the house when his grandfather had died? He squinted at this insect that might have seen his grandfather’s final moments. The sun got in his eyes, temporarily blinding him.
A wave of dizziness made Nanashu stumble. He put his head between his knees and waited for the terrible feeling to pass. He was dehydrated. He hadn’t had any water at all since very early in the morning and it was past noon now. The children who had been on the other side of the field were gone. Perhaps they had gone back home for a meal, or maybe they’d headed to the square where food was being distributed.
There was nothing for Nanashu to eat at home. He staggered to his feet, making his way toward the black carts. The square was busy and lively as if it were festival time. The crew mingled with the villagers, sharing food and chatting. Fire Hunters had their dogs perform tricks and lifted small children into the air, making them laugh and cheer.
Nanashu didn’t join in the fun. He wouldn’t be welcome. He skirted the square and went to the cemetery to see his grandfather.
Ever since Warashi had disappeared, most of the villagers had avoided stepping foot in the cemetery. The shrine that watched over the dead was empty. The river flowing past the graves sparkled brightly in the sun. There hadn’t been much rain this year, but the river connecting the weaving village to the silkworm village was deep.
Nanashu saw women washing dishes and clothes in the river. The girl he’d seen with the dog was kneeling before a grave, still wearing her red shawl on her head. The dog was at her side, straight-backed and wary.
The girl or the dog sensed his presence. She turned around. She seemed to be about Nanashu’s age. She stood up and bowed to him. Fresh flowers were on the grave. It was his grandfather’s.
“I came to pay my respects,” the girl said to Nanashu. She sounded shy. Her eyes were still terrifying; Nanashu didn’t look directly into them. He wondered if his grandfather’s eyes would look like that if he hadn’t been blinded as an infant.
“Who was he?” the girl asked. “The flowers on his grave are fresh.” She spoke with a slight accent. She was obviously a villager, not someone from the capital. Her clothes were different from what the villagers and the crew of the black cart wore.
“He was my grandfather,” Nanashu said solemnly.
The gray dog was wary of Nanashu at first, but as the girl talked to him, the dog gradually came closer.
The sadness in her eyes deepened. Hotaru had called this girl Touko. Touko seemed to absorb her surroundings, blending into them and not making much of an impression. If not for her eyes, Nanashu would have dismissed her as boring and ordinary.
The steady sound of the looms working echoed from the weaving huts.
“Have you ever seen a Fire Fiend?” Nanashu asked.
Touko nodded, silent.
“Have you ever hunted one?”
Her eyes, dark and deep like twin pools, took on an uncertain cast. One hand clutched her shawl. It was shaking. She didn’t seem nervous. It looked more like she was having some kind of seizure.
“I’ve never hunted one,” she said. Her words hung heavily in the air.
The dog panted, its tongue hanging out. The beast twitched one ear and then started barking in alarm. All the other dogs started barking in response. The village usually sounded like the weaving looms in the middle of the day, but the sound of the dogs barking completely drowned out sounds of industry.
Nanashu shuddered.
“Kanata?” Touko asked. “What’s wrong?”
The dog dashed off, surprisingly fast. Touko chased after the dog, keeping pace. Nanashu ran after them both, curious about what was going on.
Most of the dogs were near the village gate. They were all agitated.
Outside the gate, someone screamed.
“Let go, let go! It hurts, it hurts, my arm is breaking, it hurts!” Mrs. Okudo cried out.
Nanashu froze. What was Mrs. Okudo doing outside the gate? No one was supposed to go out into the forest aside from Fire Hunters. He’d never seen her anywhere except her home, the square, the weaving huts and the shrine.
A villager guarding the gate shouted something. He carried a long stick as a weapon. The nearby Fire Hunters responded. The guard removed the bar keeping the gate shut and two Fire Hunters went out.
The Fire Hunters returned quickly, carrying Mrs. Okudo between them.
The people gathered in the square looked toward the gate.
People who heard the commotion stopped their work and gathered in the square to see what was happening.
“This old woman took advantage of a moment of inattention and slipped out. She almost ran right into a Fire Fiend,” said one of the Fire Hunters holding her up. He glared at the gatekeeper.
“Let me go,” Mrs. Okudo said. “Warashi will never return. I’ve had enough of this. I don’t want to live anymore…”
“Mrs. Okudo!” Hotaru cried out. She ran over to the old woman. The Fire Hunters let Mrs. Okudo go, and she collapsed to the ground exhausted and spent.
Hotaru gently took Mrs. Okudo by the shoulders. Nanashu gasped. Mrs. Okudo had been so cruel to Hotaru, but Hotaru was the first of the villagers to reach out and help her. Hotaru bent down to Mrs. Okudo and hugged her, pulling her up so that her head rested against Hotaru’s chest.
“What happened?” Hotaru asked. She looked up at the Fire Hunters.
Mrs. Okudo curled in on herself and wept.
“She secretly tried to leave the village and let herself be eaten by Fire Fiends,” one of the Fire Hunters said. “She’s too reckless to work; lock her up somewhere!”
It was as if Hotaru herself were being accused of wrongdoing. But that wasn’t true. The old woman had lived here all her life; she was no outsider. Hotaru had always been bullied by the villagers, and now the villagers were bullying one of their own.
Sounds faded in Nanashu’s ears. The Fire Hunters shouted, dogs barked and Mrs. Okudo wailed, but he didn’t pay attention to any of that. The world seemed to slow down.
The gate was still open a crack.
Enough is enough, Nanashu thought. I can’t stay in this village anymore. Perhaps his grandfather had felt the same. Hotaru must feel that way too, after how she’d been treated.
Outsiders were always treated terribly. Why? Why was Mrs. Okudo shown mercy and understanding despite her crime while Nanashu and Hotaru were shunned?
People gathered around Mrs. Okudo, pointing and shouting.
Nanashu moved toward the gate. Standing on tiptoes, he reached for the crossbar and pulled with all his strength. The gate moved. The two black carts blocked most of the villagers’ view of the gate, so no one stopped him. He managed to open the gate a tiny bit more and slip out through the gap.
He had no idea why he was doing this. His mind was clear of thoughts.
A shiver went through Nanashu as he stepped outside the village. He sensed danger all around him. The sickly sweet stench of the Black Forest stung his nose. He held his breath until he saw spots at the edges of his vision.
Nanashu had the presence of mind to shut the gate behind him. He thought he screamed, but no sound at all came from his throat. He had crossed over an invisible line; there could be no turning back now. He shook all over. The darkness of the Black Forest made him disoriented; he nearly lost his footing. The sunlight in the village had been dazzlingly bright compared to the dimness beneath the trees.
Having never entered the Black Forest before, Nanashu had no idea where he was going. He walked and hoped for the best. He passed beyond the barrier. Cold, sticky mud clung to his toes. The trees looked diseased; patches of green and black warped pieces of bark. Tree trunks twisted painfully around him like writhing bodies trying to escape from the poisoned ground.
Entering the Black Forest was forbidden. There were Fire Fiends here. Nanashu was risking his life with every step he took. He’d thought that it would be harder to leave the village. He’d never thought of leaving before. Deep shadows moved around him as he walked.
Where were the Fire Fiends? He hadn’t seen any. He knew that they were monstrous beasts that attacked people on sight. Their fangs and claws would make short work of him if he ran into one of them. Nanashu was barefoot, unarmed, and he didn’t know how to fight. He had no idea when the Fire Fiends would find him. He might make it over the next ridge or the edge of a grove, or he might be attacked right now.
Nanashu struggled to put his thoughts in order. He thought he saw his parents and siblings in front of him, flickering like mirages. There was his sickly elder sister, who’d died first. And there were his older brothers. Nanashu’s younger older brother was taller than the eldest brother. His mother and father peeked out from behind trees. They had all died apologizing for being selfish.
Selfish because they’d broken the village rules to try to save a child.
Whenever Nanashu tried looking closer at one of these apparitions, they vanished.
Nanashu’s sickly sister apologized for being born weak and ill. His mother apologized for leaving him behind in the world.
The villagers had become so terrified of Nanashu after he’d survived the poison that had killed his family that there was no one left that Nanashu could ask for help. Even his grandfather was dead now. Nanashu was the last one left. He would die in this forest, and then his family would be gone.
Someone tugged at Nanashu’s sleeve.
Startled, Nanashu turned around.
Touko stood there, head slightly tilted. Her dark eyes stared straight through Nanashu. She’d discarded the red shawl she’d worn over her head, revealing her glossy black hair and thick eyebrows. She looked like any other villager. Only her eyes made her stand out. Her dog was next to her.
“Let’s go back,” Touko said.
Her tone reminded Nanashu of how she’d spoken at his grandfather’s grave. She and the dog had followed him out of the gate. He hadn’t noticed either one of them before.
“It’s dangerous here,” Touko said. “We have to go back. Is there anyone else out here?”
Nanashu shook his head. He was crying. He’d been crying for a long time without realizing it. He was terrified of the forest and the impulse that had led him to go out of the village alone. Watching Hotaru run to protect Mrs. Okudo had called up some hidden fear in him. He couldn’t speak; all he could do was shake his head or nod.
Touko raised an eyebrow. She reached out to take Nanashu’s hand. She led him along with sure steps, but the hand that held his was trembling. She must be sick for her hand to shake like that.
A dog barked. Nanashu missed a step. He heard shouting directly above him. He was so scared that he thought he might break apart. He didn’t blink once as a pitch-black monkey jumped closer to them, moving from tree to tree.
A Fire Fiend! The monkey’s eyes glittered with hostility. The monster bared huge fangs and cackled.
Touko pushed Nanashu behind her. The monkey climbed down the trunk of a tree quickly, its claws goring tree bark.
The dog became ferocious. He ran ahead of Touko, barking at the Fire Fiend with his hackles raised.
Acting on instinct, Nanashu reached out and grabbed onto Touko’s clothes. If Touko stayed put, the Fire Fiend would leap on her. He pulled Touko toward himself, backing away from the monster.
He couldn’t back up very far. One of his feet landed on air and he stumbled. They were at the edge of a gorge. He hadn’t noticed it before because the trees grew too thickly for him to see it until he was about to fall.
Nanashu and Touko tumbled down the cliff together. Pain shot through all Nanashu’s limbs, but he had no time to focus on it. His vision spun.
The dog confronted the Fire Fiend as it jumped down from the tree. Nanashu caught glimpses of their struggle as he kept rolling down the cliff.
***
He heard the sound of a river.
When Nanashu finally rolled to a stop, he opened his eyes wide. He couldn’t see anything. He wondered if he’d lost his sight like his grandfather had. He blinked several times, feeling sore all over. He started to make out details around him as his breathing calmed.
Faint light was shining from somewhere. Nanashu wiggled his fingers and toes and then sat up.
“Touko?” Nanashu called out.
Touko was next to Nanashu. She was almost close enough to touch. Her eyes were closed and she wasn’t moving. Her long hair fell loose over her shoulders. There were shadows on her cheeks that could have been dirt or scars. He wasn’t sure if she was breathing and briefly panicked. He reached out to her back, thinking to shake her awake, but then he paused. If she was seriously hurt, shaking her wouldn’t help.
“S-sorry… I’m sorry,” Nanashu said quietly.
“You’re sorry?” Touko asked. “Why?” She sounded sleepy. She glanced over her shoulder at Nanashu with a puzzled expression on her face.
Nanashu was openly relieved.
Touko frowned and sat up. “We fell?” she asked.
Nanashu nodded.
They were at the bottom of a steep slope. Tree roots jutted from the ground and there were large stones scattered all over the place. They were close to a narrow stream too shallow to be called a river. Nanashu’s hand had landed in the water.
How long had Nanashu lain by the river’s edge before regaining consciousness? He had no idea. He saw no sign of the monkey Fire Fiend anywhere. He couldn’t see or hear the dog, either. All was quiet and still around them.
Nanashu tried to stand. Touko pulled him down by the sleeve.
“We shouldn’t move,” Touko said. “Kanata will have gone for help by now. We need to stay still and quiet so the Fire Fiends won’t find us here.”
“Are you sure the dog is okay?” Nanashu whispered.
Touko smiled. “Kanata won’t lose against a Fire Fiend like that. He’ll bring someone back to help us.” She was shaking all over again.
Nanashu sat next to Touko. “You shouldn’t have come,” he said. “You could have just let me leave by myself.”
Touko held her hands together in an attempt to stop shaking so hard. “You shouldn’t have gone through the gate,” she said. “What were you thinking, you idiot? The forest isn’t safe. The Fire Hunters were distracted because they were helping that old lady. There shouldn’t be any people in the forest except Fire Hunters. If you were going out to get someone, you should have told the Fire Hunters first.”
Surprised by the force of Touko’s condemnation, Nanashu turned away. Touko had misunderstood him. She thought that he’d come out here to help someone. She’d come out here with the dog to help him in turn.
Touko was so angry. Nanashu wasn’t sure what to say.
“No,” he said at last. “I mean, you’re wrong. I didn’t mean—”
“—Didn’t mean what?” Touko asked, cutting him off. “Were you thinking of getting yourself eaten by a Fire Fiend, too? You idiot.”
Nanashu gave Touko a flat stare. “I saw Hotaru helping that awful old woman and I just couldn’t stand it. Mrs. Okudo treats Hotaru horribly. I wanted to run.”
“Why run into the forest? You could have run further into the village.” Touko tried to get up, but her legs were stiff and she was sore from the fall. She sat back down.
“Sorry,” Nanashu said. He didn’t know what had compelled him to enter the forest. He’d seen his family again briefly, which steadied him somewhat. But he was also nervous and impatient. He’d endangered Touko and the dog by coming out here. He looked at Touko, searching for some kind of resemblance between her and his older sister who died, but they didn’t look much alike. He shook himself, embarrassed, and looked at his feet.
They stayed silent for a long while, hiding from the Fire Fiends. They were scraped and bruised, but no bones were broken. The stream flowed past them.
“I’ve been worried about Hotaru for a long time,” Touko whispered so quietly that Nanashu barely heard her.
Nanashu clenched his teeth. He hoped Touko wasn’t going to try and blame him for how Hotaru was treated in the village. He hadn’t treated Hotaru badly at all. His mistake had been coming out here alone and failing to look behind him. He didn’t understand why Touko was talking about Hotaru now.
“I knew she was considered bad luck because of how she left her village,” Touko said. “I wondered how a bride sent from another village would be treated. She was always so kind. She got off the black cart before everyone else. I never thought I’d see her again.”
Touko wasn’t speaking to Nanashu. It was more like she was talking to herself or to a dear friend who’d passed away.
“She told me she was happy,” Touko said. “She even made a friend. You’re Nanashu, right? You’re her friend.”
Touko’s eyes fixed on Nanashu, but her gaze was as shaky as her hands at the moment.
Nanashu hated her stare. He bit his lip and looked down.
The forest’s shadows darkened around them. It was getting close to sunset. Nanashu floated his hand on the surface of the stream and then dunked in one foot. He scooted back from the stream shortly after; the water was very cold.
The stream’s water was clear and clean, but this stream was in the Black Forest. It likely wasn’t safe to drink from. The soil of the riverbed was slimy and swollen with excess moisture.
Touko crawled toward the stream on all fours and then drank from it, cupping the water in her hands.
“Should you be drinking that?” Nanashu asked. “What if it’s polluted?”
Touko looked at him. Her eyes were voids devoid of color, light or hope. Seeing her made Nanashu feel terribly sad.
“I’m fine. It doesn’t taste strange. You’re thirsty, aren’t you?” Touko asked. She drank more water from her cupped hands.
Nanashu drank water from the stream hesitantly. He was so dehydrated that he was dizzy. The water tasted good and sweet, like someone had put honey in it. He’d never drank any water that tasted this good. He didn’t use the same water that the rest of the villagers did because his family had died of an illness. He was unlucky like Hotaru was unlucky.
Nanashu saw light. Yellow and green flashes marked his vision. The little lights were flying in the air all around him.
They were fireflies.
The tiny insects flew about, flashing light in all directions. They were drawn to the water. The dark forest felt less oppressive with them nearby.
Nanashu hadn’t thought that there were any fireflies in the Black Forest. He thought of the Black Forest as a place of death. It was a pleasant surprise seeing the fireflies, bright and vibrant and very much alive.
Hotaru was always disappointed that there were no insects in the village. She talked about her friend who had married into a village of beekeepers almost every day.
It would be wonderful if these fireflies could fly into the village. Hotaru would be overjoyed.
Nanashu reached out to the fireflies and tried to catch one, but the small insects slipped through his fingers. He had crushed many other insects with his hands today. Maybe the insects were frightened of him.
Touko sighed, enchanted by the sight of the fireflies. She smiled.
A dog’s bark echoed from beyond the strangely twisted trees.
“Kanata!” Touko cried out. She stood up. It was hard to tell exactly where the barking was coming from because the forest was so disorienting. Touko took a moment to listen to the echoes of the dog’s bark and then made her way up the slope.
Lantern light shone in the distance. Two dogs ran out ahead of the light. One was Kanata, and the other was Tsumugi. Tsumugi was smaller than Kanata, but he kept pace without too much trouble. His ears were flat to his skull.
“Hey! Are you all right? Honestly, children are such troublemakers,” Kakuji said. He carried his Fire Hunter sickle in one hand. “Are either of you hurt? Can you walk?”
Touko and Nanashu nodded.
“Good. Anyway, let’s get back to the village. Seriously, I’m exhausted just from hunting, and now I have to go looking for people too.”
“Sorry,” Nanashu said.
The Fire Hunter didn’t seem particularly put out. He laughed. “If you really want to apologize, how about trying your hand at being a Fire Hunter’s apprentice? You survived after getting lost in the Black Forest. I think that’s a good sign. You must be lucky. Tsumugi knows your scent and seems attached to you, too.”
Nanashu missed a step. Touko grabbed his hand to help steady him. For a split second, Nanashu thought that he saw his older sister in Touko’s face. Touko was only a year younger than his older sister had been when she’d died. The resemblance lasted only a moment.
Touko’s hand trembled in Nanashu’s.
***
The next morning, the black carts prepared to leave the village. Hotaru and Touko embraced. Their reunion had been short. Hotaru gave Kanata a firm command before Touko and the dog left.
Kakuji and Tsumugi remained behind in the village. He and his dog lived at Nanashu’s house.
Warashi never returned, but the village had all the fire fuel it needed thanks to Kakuji’s efforts. The barrier around the village didn’t fail.
Nanashu had no idea what the future held. He’d spent his whole life in this village aside from his brief, crazy excursion in the Black Forest. He’d escaped death twice now. Kakuji thought he was lucky.
Nanashu didn’t know if he was lucky or not, but he knew that he’d survived.
Translator's Notes
Tsumugi means pongee, a soft thin cloth woven from raw silk.
This story has strange editing errors. Hotaru complained that there were no insects in the village earlier in the story, but Nanashu crushes many insects into a paste later. Plus the story is called "Glowing Bugs." The author remembers and forgets details on a whim. This isn’t the first contradiction in the text and it won’t be the last. Hinata Rieko seems to forget about how many people are alive in Nanashu’s family at any given time, too.
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