Yatagarasu Series
Volume 5:
Princess Tamayori
Author: Abe Chisato
Part 3: Dreams of the Past
Ten months after my arrival in the mountain god’s realm, I gave birth to a baby as beautiful as any jewel I had ever seen.
“Congratulations. You are a fine Princess Tamayori,” the leader of the Yatagarasu said to me. He gave me a joyful smile.
“Thank you. I do not know how I could ever express my gratitude to you.” I had felt lonely and anxious for all these long months, but holding my child made everything worth it.
The Yatagarasu leader had supported me every step of the way, giving me everything I needed. He shook his head lightly. “I only did what was necessary. There’s no need to thank me.”
“But I must,” I said. “Please. I am just a humble villager. I never dreamed that I would become the mother of the mountain god.”
The Yatagarasu leader smiled at me. “You are as you have always been, Princess Tamayori. Raise your son well until he is grown.” He excused himself politely and walked away. He encouraged her to call upon him at any time before he left.
A Yatagarasu woman and a Kuisaru woman—both in human form and clad in holy robes—approached me and bowed.
“Shall we change the swaddling clothes soon?” the Kuisaru woman asked.
“Yes, please.” It was hard to let my baby go, even for a moment. His huge, round eyes followed me, staring fixedly at my face. He was so adorable. I forgot sometimes that he was a god.
My baby grew steadily. He was my pride and joy. The Kuisaru and the Yatagarasu celebrated with me and shared in my happiness. Those were wonderful days, and I had no complaints.
This happy time continued until my son turned twenty. I aged as all women do, but after he was fully grown, he never aged a day. This made me sad. True, parents should die before their children, but I couldn’t bear it. I wanted to be with my son always.
Time passed quickly like the flight of an arrow, and I became a wizened crone, ancient and bedridden. Near death, I heard my son’s voice at my bedside.
“Mother! Can you hear me?”
Kuisaru and Yatagarasu wept in my sickroom. I forced my eyes open with the last of my strength. My son was as beautiful as ever. He had never aged. I reached up to touch his cheek, but I couldn’t quite manage it. My hand was a wrinkled husk.
I never wanted to grow old. Now that I was, I hoped he never would.
“I’ll be with you soon,” my son said. “We mountain gods don’t outlive our mothers for long.” He took my hand gently.
I wanted to say “I’m sorry” and “thank you” and offer him gentle platitudes, but I lacked the strength to say more than a few words. Dying proved to be a lonely and frustrating experience.
My last words came out in a rasp. “I did not want to think it, but you are much different from me.”
The mountain god’s eyes snapped open. “Mother? What do you mean?”
The shadow of death seized my feet and pulled.
I died jealous of my beautiful son. I regretted causing him pain in my final moments, but I could do nothing to change that now. My last warm breath made my chest rise and fall, and then I was gone.
***
“Congratulations. You are a fine Princess Tamayori.”
I was encouraged to look down at my baby. He was beautiful, like something made of porcelain. Something artificial.
How could I possibly love a child that was born without my consent? I’d never wanted this child. I never would.
I’d been told a whole lot of things: that the mountain god was dead and that he needed a mother. A white-feathered arrow had thunked into the side of my house. My family had been chosen to sacrifice a daughter to the mountain god so that he could be reborn.
I never wanted to come to the mountain god’s realm. I know nothing of how women of the past handled being chosen. This past year was the worst of my entire life. I had never been married, never known intimacy with a man, and yet here I was: a mother. They’d forced me to bathe in that spring. I’m sure that’s when it happened, though I have no idea how.
Everyone was always watching me. The experience was deeply unpleasant. My baby was weird. He aged quickly so that he could perform his duties—so much could be explained by magic. His strangeness felt like alienation to me. I had given birth to him without wanting him. I wanted nothing to do with him, and now that I had him, I didn’t know what to do with myself.
My baby fell silent, disturbed.
The Yatagarasu leader stepped forward. “You must be patient,” he said gently. “I understand that you came to this place as a young girl, but you are now a mother—a mature woman. You owe it to your child to raise him well. Those who came before you all managed to do this. You are certainly capable of it.”
I found the Yatagarasu leader’s face so hateful. I frequently wanted to punch him. I couldn’t stand him being near me.
After the birth of my baby, I had frequent dreams. I dreamed of other lives and other mountain gods—other mothers who’d raised their babies well. I didn’t want these dreams. Before I was taken from my village, I was engaged to be married. I would have been happy to have a child with my husband, but I had no desire to be the mountain god’s mother. He was a creepy, magical child. I’d been forced to participate in his birth; no one could force me to raise him if I didn’t want to.
I never spoke to my son when we shared meals. My Yatagarasu and Kuisaru attendants often gave me reproachful glances. The atmosphere was suffocating.
I stood up abruptly.
“What, exactly, is Mother dissatisfied with?” the mountain god asked. His voice was small and uncertain.
“What am I dissatisfied with? Everything!” I slammed my chopsticks down on the table instead of screaming. The sound echoed in the cave.
The mountain god’s eyes went wide. He looked up at me, confused.
He already looked like a child, but his inner self was something ancient and inhuman. He had been born a year ago, but he looked like he was five or six years old already. He pretended to be nothing more than a small boy. I found his expression utterly intolerable.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To get some fresh air outside. It’s stifling in here.”
He averted his eyes. “I don’t mind, but… You mustn’t leave the sacred realm.”
“I didn’t ask for your permission.” I was sick of everything. I stomped out of the cave.
Whenever I wanted to be alone, I went to the shrine gate that marked the entrance to the mountain god’s realm. I leaned against the gate while sitting on the stone steps. The Dragon Marsh spread out before me. On clear days, I could see the village far below.
I didn’t want to return to the village. I didn’t think I’d be welcomed back, and I didn’t want to look at the people who’d kidnapped me and brought me here.
I wanted to see the man I loved. Had he forgotten about me? Would he marry some other woman—even though I’d been forced to carry a monster of unknown origin?
I couldn’t bear the thought of that. I pressed my forehead against the shrine gate and wept.
“Could it be… are you Eiko?”
My heart leaped to my throat at the sound of his voice.
It couldn’t be. Was I so desperate to see him that I was hearing things?
I looked up. Kanjirō was running up the stone steps. “Kanjirō…?”
“Eiko!”
He held me in his arms. He stank of soil and sweat, but I didn’t care. I clung to him, crying my eyes out. “I wanted to see you. I wanted to see you so badly. You’re the only one I love! Listen! I only performed a simple purification ritual in the sacred spring, but the thing inside me kept growing. It’s so disgusting I can’t stand it. Everyone says it’s the mountain god, but I didn’t want to give birth to the mountain god! I have nightmares every night. I feel like I’m going crazy. I hate this. I hate all of it.”
Kanjirō nodded. He didn’t interrupt me. He looked more sunburned now than he ever had in my memories. “Eiko, let’s run away together. Somewhere else—we’ll start over.”
I looked up at him with tears rolling down my cheeks.
“The people in the village didn’t think about us at all, did they? We don’t have any obligation to them.” I wanted to run away with him. I wanted it very much.
“Yes. Let’s go. Right now. No matter where we end up, we’ll be fine.”
We took each other’s hands and left the shrine gate. We were about to run down the stone steps when I heard a voice behind us.
“That won’t do.”
A wet, crushing sound like a ripe fruit bursting in someone’s grip followed this chilling declaration.
My vision went red.
I didn’t understand what had happened. I looked to Kanjirō. His hand was still in mine.
His head was gone. His body fell forward, yanking me down the stone stairs. When I blinked, I noticed that the sleeve of my white kimono had turned red. Blood dripped steadily from the fabric.
I screamed and shook off Kanjirō’s hand, turning back.
“You are a cruel woman, to treat that man in such a way,” Ōzaru said.
“Mother, are you all right?” the mountain god asked. He came running towards me.
“Why? Why?!” I kept asking that over and over again.
“Don’t worry; Ōzaru is a friend,” the mountain god said. “He was on patrol around the shrine. Are you all right? You’re not hurt, are you?” He smiled, trying to reassure me. “I heard what happened. It seems an insolent wretch tried to abduct you.”
Something inside me shattered.
“An insolent wretch? How dare you call him that! How dare you kill him!”
The mountain god was taken aback. “What are you saying?”
“I won’t forgive you. I will never forgive you. You aren’t my child!” I screamed.
The mountain god’s face contorted. The expression made him look strangely human.
Ōzaru picked up Kanjiro’s head and played with it in one hand as if it were a ball. “Well, this is no good. This girl is no longer Princess Tamayori. Allow me to deal with this, mountain god.”
Ōzaru instructed the other monkeys who had gathered around to take the pale-faced mountain god back to the cave. Then he faced me. There was something like pity in his golden eyes. “I’m sorry, but your fate cannot be changed.”
The monkeys pounced. My throat was torn open before I could even scream.
After I collapsed, pain like a full-body convulsion struck me. Cold sweat dripped down my forehead. I only wanted the pain to end. Kill me quickly! Hurry and finish me off!
I writhed on the stone steps in agony for a long while. My breaths came out wet and thick with blood. I could barely move. Cold crept into my fingers and toes.
“What shall we do with the corpse?”
“There is no sin in the dead. Bury her,” Ōzaru said.
I was still alive when the monkeys picked my body up and carried me toward the cave. Ōzaru led the monkeys; I could hear him speaking.
“This is troubling. The mountain god has not yet fully grown.”
“Women these days are more irresponsible than they were before. I hope that the next one to come will be more qualified to perform her duties.”
“Even girls who seem promising at first refuse to become Princess Tamayori,” Ōzaru complained to his underling. He snorted. “I suppose we have ways of dealing with the failures.”
My vision went dark, and I heard no more.
***
I was brought to the mountain god’s realm, guided by huge monkeys that could speak. They led me to a beautiful teenage boy who was lying on the floor, exhausted.
“This is the mountain god?” I asked.
“It is,” the largest monkey said to me. “You must raise him as you would your own child. You are his mother now.”
“Hm.” I tilted my head. “He’s not too much younger than me. It’s a little weird for me to be his mother, isn’t it?”
“It doesn’t matter how old you are. The mountain god needs a mother, and you will be that mother,” an unfamiliar man said. I would learn later that he was the leader of the Yatagarasu. He lay near the mountain god, similarly exhausted. “Congratulations. You are a fine Princess Tamayori.”
***
Shiho woke up. It had stopped raining sometime in the night. She heard nothing; it was so quiet. She was tempted to sleep more, but she didn’t want more dreams. She’d had a lot of dreams since her kidnapping. Most of them had reminded her of her mother. The dream she’d just had was different.
She’d witnessed the lives of countless women—all of the Princess Tamayoris who had come before her. Most of the time, she watched what was happening to them from a distance, but sometimes she could feel what they felt.
Dreams were dreams, but this one felt real. She believed that what she’d seen in the dream had actually happened—even though she had no proof. She believed that the beautiful boy she’d seen in many of the dreams was the mountain god. The mountain god’s expression when his mother had rejected him in the dream was the same as the one she’d seen when the mountain god had called Nazukihiko a traitor. The mountain god in her dreams didn’t seem like the same creature as the one she spent her days with, but they were.
It wasn’t quite dawn. The horizon was a pale purple like a healing bruise. Shiho sat up, determined not to fall back asleep. She was terrified. What would happen if Nazukihiko killed the mountain god? Or worse—what would happen if he failed?
“What are you worrying about?” the silver-haired boy asked from outside her half-open window.
Shiho nearly jumped out of her skin. She hadn’t seen this boy for a long time. “Do you just… show up wherever you want?”
“I can’t go to the mountain god’s realm, if that’s what you’re asking.” The boy raised an eyebrow. “So. You’re worried. What about?”
“Nazukihiko and the other Yatagarasu are planning to kill the mountain god. They’ll do it, or at least try, if no one stops them.”
The boy nodded. “I doubt the attempt will go well. That Ōzaru is a crafty one. He’s the one who goaded the Yatagarasu into trying something desperate.”
Shiho swallowed hard. “If the Yatagarasu fail, what will happen?”
“Nazukihiko will die and his companions will be slaughtered by the mountain god.”
Shiho remembered Nazukihiko calling out the names of his fallen comrades. She closed her eyes. She owed the Yatagarasu nothing. Nazukihiko had lied to her to get her to cooperate with a plan that she knew nothing about, but he didn’t deserve what had happened to him. His friends shouldn’t be dead. They had loved ones who would mourn them.
“What should I do?” Shiho asked. “I told Nazukihiko not to do this.”
“He wouldn’t listen to you. He’s aware of the danger, but he’s going to fight anyway.”
Shiho let out a slow breath. “The mountain god wasn’t always like this. What happened?”
The boy shrugged. “Who knows? If you want to save the Yatagarasu now, I know a way.”
“You do?”
The boy nodded. He crouched down to his feet.
Shiho poked her head out the window and saw two puppies lolling near the boy. The boy was scratching one of the puppies behind the ears.
“How do I save the Yatagarasu?” Shiho asked.
“It’s very simple. Use these two words: ‘help me.’ And I will.” He picked up one of the puppies.
“If I ask you to help, what will happen?”
“Your request for aid serves as my invitation to the mountain god’s realm. I need to be invited by someone who’s been there, you see. And then I’ll kill the mountain god for you. No one else has to get hurt.” He patted the puppy on the head.
Shiho gasped. “Your idea of helping is to kill that hideous, angry child.”
“Yep.”
“Wait a second! If the mountain god wasn’t originally like that, then why is he so horrible now?”
The boy looked somewhat exasperated. “Why does it matter? I don’t know what things were like in the past, but it is an undeniable fact that the mountain god is currently killing women and devouring them. Retaliation is only to be expected. Otherwise, the spirits of the women who were killed won’t be able to rest in peace.”
Shiho’s lips trembled. “I know. I know that. But I don’t want a child to die.”
The boy laughed. “How kind of you. You worry about taking the life of an evil child who wants to kill you.”
“But he doesn’t!” Her heart beat loudly in her ears. “He’s yelled at me, yes, but he’s never said that he wanted to kill me. Not once.”
The mountain god had said that he would devour her. He’d threatened her with death on an almost daily basis, but he’d never said that he wanted to kill her. There was a distinction there that felt significant.
The boy gave her a dubious look. “Is there really that much of a difference between ‘I’ll kill you’ and ‘I want to kill you’ in your mind?”
“Yes,” Shiho said. “Those two things are completely different.”
The mountain god had only threatened to kill her when he was enraged, and he’d never acted on those feelings. If he’d wanted to kill her, he would have done it. The idea of killing her wouldn’t have upset him. She considered the sources of his anger. His life hadn’t gone as he expected. He’d changed from a beautiful boy into a monster through no real fault of his own. And he was just a child, albeit a very odd one. He expected something of the Yatagarasu and Shiho that they didn’t know how to give him. He couldn’t teach them, and they couldn’t help him. It really was a hopeless situation.
“The mountain god doesn’t kill because he likes it,” Shiho said. That felt important to her. She was certain that she’d grasped part of the truth of the mountain god’s condition. They had spent ten days together. She’d spent the first few days in terror and pain and confusion, but now that she was safe, she was able to examine her situation with greater clarity. The mountain god’s shouting and threats were like those of a spoiled little child. He’d been throwing tantrums! And no one had soothed him as a good parent would. They’d been too frightened of defying him to parent him.
She had feared and loathed a badly raised child for all this time.
“So what?” the boy asked. “He’s still killing people, regardless of his motives. If you don’t stop him now, he’ll kill the Yatagarasu, too. You fled from the mountain god’s realm. How do you expect me to help you if I don’t kill him?”
“I don’t,” Shiho said.
“What?”
“You don’t have to help. I’m going back. I’ll fix this myself.”
“What?” The boy’s eyes bugged out of his head.
“I swore to become the mountain god’s mother, but I never did anything to actually mother him.” A child didn’t know how to use their gifts effectively. A very powerful child like the mountain god would be lost without guidance on how to use his gifts. Parents taught their children right from wrong. How was the mountain god supposed to learn that if someone didn’t tell him?
The puppy leaped out of the boy’s arms.
“What are you planning to do?”
“I’m going to raise the child that I said I would,” Shiho said. “I owe the Yatagarasu an apology, at the very least. I want to do something for the women who died so senselessly, though I don’t know what yet. There has to be something I can do.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The boy shook his head. “You’ve spent too much time in the mountain god’s realm. It made you crazy or something. You’re not in your right mind. You need to snap out of it, or you’ll die.”
Shiho shook her head. “You might be right. I haven’t had time to think everything through. But I know what I promised to do, and I’m going to do it.” She straightened her shoulders. A few minutes ago, she’d been thinking of asking the boy for help. Now he was trying to stop her from helping the mountain god herself.
“You’ll never see your family again,” the boy said. “Your grandma—remember her? You’re letting your compassion for a monster blind you to the truth.”
“I might not come back here, but I think I can,” Shiho said. “I’m not going to die. At least, I hope not. My grandma might be mad at me for going back. I don’t know; I can’t ask her right now. But I think she’d want me to keep my promise. She’d understand that.”
The boy looked to the sky in confusion. He’d given up on Shiho as a lost cause.
***
“I won’t forgive you! I won’t forgive her! That wretch—she’s betrayed me yet again!”
The mountain god lay in his cradle, yelling at everything he saw. His anger intensified moment by moment.
“She truly is a cruel woman,” Ōzaru said, nodding in self-satisfaction. None of his underlings were in the chamber.
Nazukihiko held his breath and watched the situation unfold. His right arm ached horribly. The pain worsened with every heartbeat. He’d lost the ability to move his fingers some time ago. He scarcely felt the pain in his burned hand any longer, but the pain of the curse kept moving—spreading up the rest of his arm.
He would only have one chance to do this. If he didn’t take the mountain god by surprise now, he’d never get another chance. His attendants and guards had their orders. Nazukihiko would take down the mountain god while they killed Ōzaru.
Nazukihiko didn’t know if he was capable of bringing down the mountain god. He was badly wounded, and he had no real understanding of the mountain god’s strength. He would have to hope that he was strong enough. He couldn’t afford to fail.
The sun had always been a friend to the Yatagarasu. Nazukihiko hoped that it would tilt things in his favor. He gazed into the cradle as the mountain god spat verbal venom everywhere. There was no need to steel his resolve. He’d been prepared to do this from the moment he made the decision to kill the mountain god.
The mountain god went quiet.
Kuisaru stationed outside the chamber shouted in alarm.
Had something happened?
A Kuisaru came running into the mountain god’s chamber. Ōzaru glowered at him. “What is it?”
The Kuisaru whispered in Ōzaru’s ear.
Ōzaru looked surprised. Nazukihiko had never seen him be surprised by anything before.
The mountain god gripped the sides of his cradle and hauled himself up. He snapped out an insult and then leaped free of the cradle without Ōzaru’s aid.
When the mountain god touched the floor, he shrank, losing both girth and height. He had looked to be about four or five years old before, but now he was the size of a newborn. He was still hideous and quite mobile. He dashed away from the cradle as Ōzaru yelled after him, “Mountain god! Wait!”
The mountain god didn’t pause. His small size and quickness made it difficult for anyone to catch him.
One of Nazukihiko’s attendants caught his eye. This wasn’t the plan. He was looking for direction. Nazukihiko shook his head. Whatever was going on, now was not the time to act.
The mountain god ran from his chamber and into the tunnels. He was heading for the shrine gate that marked the edge of his realm. The sun crested the horizon as he moved, casting away the night’s shadows.
The mountain god stopped in front of the shrine gate. Shiho was climbing up the stone steps and had nearly reached him. Her clothes didn’t fit her properly, and she was holding a puppy in her arms. She should have been hiding at Junten’s house until she could be reunited with her grandmother — what was she doing here?
“I’m back,” Shiho said as she wiped sweat from her forehead with one arm. The pale sun peeked over her shoulder. She smiled.
Who could have foreseen this? Nazukihiko, the other Yatagarasu, Ōzaru, and the mountain god were stunned.
“Why?” the mountain god murmured.
Shiho set the puppy down at her feet and stretched her arms over her head. “I’m sorry I left without saying anything,” she said. “But I’ve come back now, so can you please forgive me?” There was no trace of fear in her features. It was hard to believe that she was the same girl who’d fled this place the day before.
The mountain god looked up at her in horror, like he was seeing some kind of terrible monster. The words “forgive me” made him blink several times. His face scrunched into a bitter frown as he bared his sharp canines.
“Sure, I’ll forgive you. You came back here to be killed without a fuss. That’s worth a little leeway, I suppose.” He turned to Ōzaru and snarled, “We must prepare her to be torn to pieces!”
Nazukihiko’s left hand twitched toward the hilt of his sword.
Shiho frowned slightly. “Stop that at once. You mustn’t threaten people with death, not even as a joke! If you say something like that again, I’ll be very angry with you.” She crossed her arms and dug her heels in, preparing to give a much longer and fiercer lecture if the mountain god kept acting up.
The mountain god had not been scolded for a very long time and didn’t know how to respond. He was still scowling; his teeth remained bared. Shiho thought he looked exceptionally silly.
“Who do you think you are?” Ōzaru asked. He stepped forward threateningly.
“I’m this boy’s mother,” Shiho said. “You’re the one who told me I had to become that, as I recall.”
Ōzaru opened his mouth and then closed it.
Shiho fixed a hard stare on the mountain god. “Apologize. Right now.”
“W-What did you say?”
“I’m telling you to apologize. You did something that you should never do. If you do something wrong, you have to apologize.”
The mountain god’s face turned bright red. “Why should I apologize? You don’t deserve it!”
“I didn’t tell you to apologize to me,” Shiho said calmly. She nodded toward Nazukihiko. “You owe the Yatagarasu an apology.”
Nazukihiko’s blood ran cold.
The mountain god froze. “They let you escape.”
“They didn’t,” Shiho said. “I escaped on my own. And even if they had helped me, that doesn’t give you the right to kill them. I can see why you might think they helped me, but now I’m here to set the record straight. Let’s apologize together, shall we?”
“Y-you… what are you saying?”
“When a person does something wrong, they apologize,” Shiho said. “The people you’ve wronged don’t have to forgive you, but they are still owed some kind of recognition of your wrongdoing. How else can you hold yourself accountable for your actions? You didn’t want to kill the Yatagarasu, did you?”
The mountain god didn’t answer. His frown collapsed at the corners. A light like fear shone in his eyes. “What nonsense are you spouting? I’ll kill you if you keep talking.”
Shiho shook her head firmly. “I understand that you don’t like being told to apologize. What you’re feeling is shame. You know you did something wrong, but you don’t want to admit it. You shouldn’t lash out at me—or anyone—because you’re angry at yourself.”
“Shut up!”
“I won’t.”
“Stop!”
“I won’t.”
“Stop it, please!”
“No.”
“Stop, I’m begging you!” the mountain god wailed. He turned his back on Shiho and fled back to the tunnels.
Nazukihiko watched him go.
Shiho bowed to Nazukihiko. “I’m sorry. Your companions died because of me. I never wanted them to be hurt.”
Nazukihiko had no words.
Shiho looked up and stared Nazukihiko straight in the eye. “Let me handle this, all right?” she asked. Then she dashed away, following the mountain god.
Shiho was almost out of sight before Nazukihiko realized that his cursed hand didn’t hurt anymore.
“The nerve of that girl,” Ōzaru said flatly. He brought his fist to his palm and harrumphed.
The puppy Shiho had left behind looked up at Nazukihiko and wagged his tail.
***
What is she?! the mountain god thought, tearing his hair as he sprinted through the tunnels of his sacred realm. He was furious, but also terrified.
She’s so scary! Scary!
Shiho was chasing after him now, unbearably terrifying.
“Don’t run away!”
“Don’t follow me!”
Shiho’s footsteps echoed in the tunnels. She was getting closer!
“I have so many things I want to talk about!” Shiho shouted.
“I don’t!”
“Please, stop! Just for a moment!”
“Shut up!”
The mountain god fled to the spring. No matter how much Shiho wanted to chase him, she surely wouldn’t follow him into the water, would she? He dove in with a terrific splash and swam toward the bottom of the spring. The world was blue and quiet. Shiho’s voice, the sounds of mountain birds and insects—none of that could reach him here. The water was clear and beautiful. He’d kicked up silver bubbles during his swim that sparkled in the dawn sunlight.
There were never any fish in the spring. It was a quiet, lonely place. The mountain god used the quiet and stillness to compose himself and order his chaotic thoughts. He’d never expected Shiho to return. She’d abandoned him! Why had she come back?
The mountain god calmed himself with great effort.
Then the spring’s surface rippled, sending shadows over the mountain god’s face.
Shiho was in the spring! She would find him!
The mountain god kicked off the bottom of the spring and swam further away from her, determined not to be caught. He turned back and noticed that Shiho hadn’t moved. She was in the same place she’d been when she’d jumped in—and she was flailing desperately.
No way… is she drowning? the mountain god thought.
Without really thinking much about it, the mountain god swam back to her and lifted her head above water. His own head broke the surface of the spring.
“Are you out of your mind?!” the mountain god raged.
Shiho couldn’t reply. She coughed violently, hacking and wheezing.
The mountain god could scarcely believe he’d been terrified of this pathetic creature mere moments ago. The idea was utterly ridiculous.
Shiho crawled up the shore of the spring on all fours and then turned to face the mountain god. “You wouldn’t come up,” Shiho gasped. “I waited. Then I jumped in.”
The mountain god scoffed. “Did you fear that I would drown? Have you forgotten that I’m nothing like a frail mortal child?”
Shiho shook her head. “You might be strong, but I didn’t know how long you could hold your breath. How would I know that? I was worried that you might die.” Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. Her cheeks were red from exertion, and she was shivering.
The mountain god was taken aback.
“I thought you decided to die—because of me.” Shiho covered her face with her hands and wept.
This flustered the mountain god. “Um… even if I were dead, it makes no sense for you to drown yourself.” He was confused, but also relieved. Shiho didn’t terrify him anymore. “And anyway, we’re not dead, so don’t cry.”
The mountain god crouched down cautiously next to Shiho, who was wracked with sobs. He patted her back awkwardly with one hand.
Silver bubbles rose to the surface of the spring as Shiho cried herself out.
***
When Shiho was calm again, she found herself wrapped in a blanket that the mountain god had produced from somewhere.
“Are you all right?” the mountain god asked. He couldn’t quite look her in the eye. He sat a little distance away from Shiho on a rock near the spring.
Shiho wiped away her tears and smiled faintly. “Thank you for saving me. I do know how to swim. My clothes were just so heavy. I’m sorry if I scared you. I didn’t mean to.”
The mountain god looked away. “Why did you come back?”
“Because I thought you needed me.” Shiho folded her knees to her chest. “I’m your mother, right? There are so many things that I should teach you.”
The mountain god carved a new crease between his brows. “That is why you told me to apologize to the Yatagarasu?”
“Yes,” Shiho said. “That’s the first step. You’ll need to practice a lot of different things. You’re still growing and learning.”
“I refuse,” the mountain god said.
Shiho shrugged.
The mountain god’s eyebrow twitched.
“Why should I apologize? They never listen to me. I disposed of a few useless servants. What’s wrong with that? They deserved it.”
Shiho stayed silent for a short while, thinking. Then she said, “Your servants are your people, not your tools. They have hearts and minds and other people who matter to them. Threatening to kill someone won’t make them want to serve you. It will only make them afraid.”
The mountain god’s frown deepened. “I don’t need my servants to like me.”
“You don’t want them to hate you, either. What we’re talking about is consideration. If you’re considerate to your servants, they’ll be considerate to you.”
“Why does that matter?”
“You’ve been thinking of your servants as traitors and schemers. You don’t want them to betray you, right? You want them to show you kindness and care. You can do that by being considerate to them. You’d be setting an example of the behavior that you want to see from them. People don’t live in isolation; they have communities. Consideration is important in building a strong community founded on kindness and respect.”
The mountain god snorted. “That is the logic of the weak. Perhaps a person needs people; I don’t. I am strong enough to live on my own. I don’t need my servants.”
“Then why have them?” Shiho asked.
“They said they wanted to serve me, so I let them.”
“So if they say they don’t want to serve you, you could just dismiss them, right? There’s no point in killing them. You treat them like you expect things from them. You don’t live in isolation. That isn’t what you’ve chosen to do.”
The mountain god was at a loss for words. Then he faced Shiho squarely. “I will ask my servants what they think,” he said slowly. “The Yatagarasu said they would serve me once, but then they shut themselves away in the mountains and didn’t return for many years. There was trouble then, and I could have used their help, but they didn’t give it. They serve me now out of self-interest. Isn’t this scheming and betrayal?”
It was odd to talk about things like this to an infant-shaped monster, but Shiho didn’t mind. She was quite pleased that they’d gone a whole conversation without the mountain god yelling at her once.
This was a critical moment. She braced herself internally and asked, “Why did the Yatagarasu seal themselves away? There must be a reason.”
“What do you mean?”
“You keep saying that you were betrayed. I wasn’t there, so I don’t know what happened. If the Yatagarasu fled because you were killing them, or threatening to do so, then they didn’t betray you. They ran to save their own lives. You can’t blame them for doing that.”
The mountain god’s mood plummeted. “Are you saying it was my fault?!”
“I don’t know,” Shiho said. “Like I said, I wasn’t there. That’s why I asked you what happened.”
The mountain god considered that for quite a while. Then he asked, “What would make them abandon me?”
“Were you violent? Did you threaten them? Do you remember?”
The mountain god said nothing.
“Looking at how things are now, I can believe that you scared them away,” Shiho said softly. “You do remember something, don’t you?”
The mountain god visibly sulked. “That was normal. I never thought it was a problem.”
“You killed Yatagarasu and Kuisaru in anger. Do you believe that they deserved to die?”
The mountain god closed his eyes. “They weren’t performing their duties. I thought that was their fault. It’s not like I went out of my way to kill them.”
“But you did.”
Silence. Then, “I can’t help it. When I get angry like that, all the blood rushes to my head, and I lash out. I can’t control myself. When I come to my senses, everyone is dead. The blame lies with those who angered me.”
Shiho stared, wide-eyed. This was a breakthrough, but she didn’t think she’d be able to get the mountain god to reflect more on his past today. They’d made significant progress, though. “We’ll have to do something about your anger, then,” she said. “You’re aware of the problem, which is good. That means we can try to fix it together.”
Shiho smiled. The mountain god had told her not to cry. He cared what she thought and didn’t want to kill her. She could work with this. “I’m your mother,” she said. “I promise I’ll never run away again. I won’t abandon you, okay?”
The mountain god didn’t seem fully convinced, but he nodded. His face no longer looked like a monster’s.
***
“What did you do?” Nazukihiko asked Shiho in a hushed tone after the mountain god had fallen asleep.
“I couldn’t let you go ahead with your plan. I’m sorry. I know he killed your friends. I also know that you can’t be objective about this. If you try to harm him, it won’t end well for you or the other Yatagarasu. Surely you understand that. We can manage this—fix things so that they don’t get worse.”
Nazukihiko’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll manage him—how? With words? What can words do, at this stage?” He thought Shiho was a naïve little girl playing with powers she didn’t understand. She had no idea what the mountain god and the Kuisaru had done in the past. They were responsible for horrible atrocities.
Shiho didn’t flinch. She met Nazukihiko’s gaze calmly and said, “I don’t know what happened in the past. I don’t know what made this situation so terrible. Do you know why the mountain god hates you so much that he got angry enough to kill your people?”
Nazukihiko felt like Shiho had run him through with cold steel.
“The mountain god says you betrayed him. Is that true? What really happened?”
“I don’t know the details,” Nazukihiko said. “I never betrayed the mountain god, but my predecessor was killed by him. I don’t know why.”
“You don’t know?”
Nazukihiko shook his head. “It happened more than a century ago.” His predecessor was named Naritsuhiko. He’d incurred the wrath of the mountain god and sealed the Forbidden Gate. It had been closed for all these years; Nazukihiko had opened it very recently. True Golden Ravens shared memories, so ordinarily, Nazukihiko would know what had happened to Naritsuhiko. But the circumstances of Naritsuhiko’s death interrupted the flow of memories. He had only a few of Naritsuhiko’s memories to draw on, and most of those concerned his death.
“You think that the mountain god hates you for no reason?” Shiho asked sharply. “How could you believe that? He’s a child! I believe that you’re ignorant of the circumstances that led us here, but it’s foolish to think that the mountain god doesn’t have some reason for wanting to punish you.”
Nazukihiko’s mouth snapped shut. Then he looked Shiho in the eye and said, “I know that my friends were murdered for no reason.”
“You’re right,” Shiho said. “The mountain god was wrong to do that. I’m not asking you to forgive him. If you want to retaliate, that’s fair. I’m asking for a chance.” She bowed deeply.
“A chance?”
“I’ll get the mountain god to apologize and make amends. He won’t harm any of your people anymore.”
Nazukihiko sighed. “Do you believe that’s possible?”
“I do. It will take time, but I think I can do it. I’ll stake my own life on it.”
Nazukihiko looked at her, taking in all the determination and will of Kadono Shiho. She was an ignorant girl, stupid in many ways, but he couldn’t fault her courage.
“Please let me do this. Your way hasn’t fixed anything, so let’s try mine. And if it doesn’t work… we can talk again.”
Nazukihiko didn’t want to kill the mountain god. Not because the mountain god didn’t deserve death many times over, but because the consequences of murdering a god were unknown and likely to be catastrophic. Shiho didn’t know about his wounded arm and the mountain god’s curse, so she didn’t understand why he’d rushed to assassinate the mountain god.
Shiho’s way was a new option; a new plan. There was no way to tell if it would work, but it did seem to be worth trying.
Nazukihiko glanced surreptitiously at his burned arm. It hadn’t hurt once since Shiho’s return to the mountain god’s realm. He’d received word that his dying guard had also stabilized since Shiho’s return. He might not die. There was time, at least a little.
In his role as the true Golden Raven, progenitor and protector of all Yatagarasu, Nazukihiko was enraged to the core of himself. How dare the mountain god murder his people? How dare Ōzaru gloat as the Yatagarasu suffered? He wanted to make them suffer a fate worse than death.
But if he did that, more Yatagarasu would die. He couldn’t allow his own anger to cloud his judgment, or he’d be no better than the mountain god he despised.
“You’re right. My way hasn’t worked. My plan might make others suffer, including Yatagarasu.”
Could he trust Shiho? She was guileless and kind, as he was not. Perhaps kindness was the path forward. He never would have considered that.
“We’ll try things your way.”
Now that his wound no longer hurt and his friend was stable, there was no rush. He could watch and wait, and if nothing changed, there was nothing preventing him from attempting to slay the mountain god again.
Shiho looked quietly satisfied. “Thank you, Nazukihiko.”
***
From then on, Shiho acted her role of the mountain god’s mother in earnest.
She decided that she would sleep in the same room as the mountain god from now on. Nazukihiko saw her coming out of her previous bedroom, a rolled-up straw mat over her shoulder, and asked what she was doing.
“Moving.” Her hair was tied back, and she was sweating.
“What?”
“If I’m the mountain god’s mother, I should be close to him. We’re going to share a room. Which reminds me—I have a request.”
“What is it?”
“I want a real bed,” Shiho said. “I’ve been sleeping on the ground with nothing but a mat between me and the mountain. Would it be possible to get me a mattress, at least? If I’m going to stay here for a long time, I want to be comfortable. I can’t imagine how cold it will be in winter with just a mat.”
Nazukihiko didn’t respond immediately. It was clear to him that Shiho was planning to remain in the mountain god’s realm long-term. She wasn’t wrong about the straw mat being uncomfortable. He felt vaguely ashamed of himself. If a Yatagarasu girl had wound up in her position, he would have done more to see to her needs without being asked.
“Well? Can you get me a mattress?” Shiho prompted.
“I can. Is there anything else you need? Please don’t hesitate to ask me for anything you’re lacking.”
Shiho’s eyes widened. “Did you get nicer since I last saw you?”
Nazukihiko shook his head. “I’ve been thinking about your situation. I’ve never wanted you to come to harm. I can see how you might view my people and me as inattentive or inconsiderate, but that wasn’t my intent.” He’d been treating Shiho like the mountain god’s prisoner this whole time. How awful.
“Oh, okay. Thanks!” Shiho smiled brightly. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like some cooking utensils, ingredients for meals, and I’d like to make a fire so I can cook.”
Nazukihiko nodded slowly. “You’ll probably need the mountain god’s permission to make a fire. What are you planning to cook?”
“A variety of meals,” Shiho said. “Humans can’t live on rice balls forever. I’d die of malnutrition if I ate that way.”
Nazukihiko nodded. “I’ll arrange to deliver the utensils and ingredients to you, and we can ask the mountain god for a fire. I’m sorry for neglecting your dietary needs.”
Shiho looked pleased. “Thanks! You don’t need to apologize. I never asked for anything until now. The mountain god told me that he doesn’t need to eat, but that doesn’t mean he can’t eat. I’d like to cook a meal and eat it with him—what do you think?”
Nazukihiko felt like his heart might stop. “I…”
“Is it too hard to get the utensils? Is there some other problem?”
Nazukihiko swallowed heavily. “No, there’s no problem. I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you!”
Nazukihiko relieved Shiho of her straw mat burden and went to the mountain god’s chamber. It had changed drastically since his last visit. Sunlight streamed through a window that had remained perpetually closed—Nazukihiko didn’t even remember seeing a window there before. A bamboo tube containing water and violet flowers sat on the windowsill. All of the white cloth that had concealed the rock ceiling before had been removed; it lay in a pile by the room’s entrance. A crude broom made of gathered tree branches and vines rested in a corner. Shiho had swept the floor; it wasn’t perfectly clean, but there was much less dust than usual.
The mountain god’s cradle had been moved to a corner of the room. He glared at Nazukihiko, seeming peeved that his space was being altered without his say-so. He hunched in on himself and shuddered.
Shiho skipped into the room. “Nazukihiko said he’d get me some cooking utensils and food; isn’t that wonderful?” she asked the mountain god. “But if we use fire in this room, I don’t think it’ll be safe. You’ll need to tell me where to put the kitchen, okay?”
“Why do you need cooking utensils and food?” the mountain god asked sulkily.
“For cooking. Once you’re a little bigger, you can learn to cook with me.”
“Me?”
“Who else?”
The mountain god gave her a thousand-yard stare. He shuddered again, horrified.
Seeing the mountain god so cowed, Nazukihiko felt a twinge of sympathy. He still hated the mountain god, of course, but he could understand the god’s discomfort, at least a little. He set down the straw mat on the floor.
Shiho placed her hands on her hips and surveyed the room. “It’s still really dusty. Nazukihiko, that dirty white cloth that was hanging from the ceiling—can I make rags out of it?”
Do as you like, Nazukihiko thought. She hadn’t asked the mountain god’s opinion about her changes; she certainly didn’t need to ask him.
***
Nazukihiko arranged for a delivery of food and utensils the very next day. Shiho was excited to cook. The Yatagarasu had built her a wood-burning stove in a well-ventilated chamber. They’d also delivered a flat counter and a chopping board so that she would have a clean preparation surface.
The first thing Shiho made was rice porridge. She struggled a bit with her new chopping knife, which was large and sharp, but she got the hang of it and finished chopping all the Chinese cabbage for the porridge. She made vegetable stock from scraps stir-fried in oil and then poured her soaked rice into it. She added the cabbage after the rice was fully cooked. She lightly toasted some miso paste before adding it to the pot. The whole meal was topped off with a beaten egg that she stirred dexterously into the mixture. Shiho clearly had some experience making rice porridge.
“It didn’t turn out very well,” Shiho said, pouting. “Controlling the fire is really hard with a wood stove. The stock is so-so, too, and I’d be happier if I had meat.”
“I can have some chicken delivered tomorrow,” Nazukihiko said. He accepted a bowl of Shiho’s porridge. He thought it tasted fine, and the warmth of it spread within him in a comforting way.
The puppy that had come here with Shiho hadn’t left. She’d decided to name him Momo. The first time the mountain god noticed Momo, he was bewildered by the little thing. He’d never seen a dog before, apparently.
“It’s fine, isn’t it? Can I keep him?” Shiho had asked him.
“Do as you like,” the mountain god had said, and then he’d turned his face away.
Momo seemed to like the mountain god’s company. The mountain god didn’t treat the puppy harshly, so Momo stayed near him. Momo seemed to think that the mountain god was the leader of his pack. He followed the mountain god wherever he went, shadowing him like a tiny guard.
Shiho was happy to see the mountain god getting along with the dog and said so.
Nazukihiko often became uneasy at Shiho’s actions. He didn’t usually understand them. Whatever she was doing, it was risky.
As the days passed and Shiho shared food and sleep with the mountain god, the hideous creature transformed like a molting insect. He looked more and more like a human child with each passing day. The speed of his growth was astonishing. After three days of sharing meals with Shiho, the wrinkles on his face vanished. His sunken cheeks became plump and rosy by the fifth day. After ten days, he’d grown to the size of a five- or six-year-old child. All of his skin was healthy. His previous rot and ugliness seemed like a nightmare. His dry, sparse hair had grown long; it shone like silk.
And so the monstrous mountain god became a child more beautiful than any jewel.
Shiho noticed these changes with great satisfaction. “You’re adorable now,” she said. “Cute as a button.”
The mountain god looked displeased. “Stop it.”
“I’m complimenting you. You don’t like that?”
“You’re praising my appearance. Are you so vain?” The question sounded like a test.
“Of course I don’t care what you look like,” Shiho said. “I decided to become your mother back when you had a face like a dried-up mummy.”
The mountain god remained silent. How could he argue with Shiho? She’d seen him at his very worst, and she’d still decided to come back to him.
“Are you unhappy with how you look?” Shiho asked. “I think you look very nice, but I think you should look the way you want to look.”
“Humans say I look like a monster.”
“Huh?”
The mountain god shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. “Sometimes I struggle to remember… a long time ago, I realized that I was different from humans. The woman who served me then often praised me. I looked similar to how I do now.
“But then the woman changed, and I didn’t. She aged, and I stayed the same. She started acting strangely towards me. At the end of her life, she said, ‘I did not want to think it, but you are much different from me.’ I’ve thought about that ever since.
“The women who came after her were all so selfish. Some of them refused to serve me. They said they didn’t want to raise a monster… even though the humans said that they wanted to serve me in the first place.” He shook his head. “I don’t like how I look now. Looking like a monster feels more honest. I don’t want to be told that I’m handsome or beautiful or whatever. My appearance doesn’t change much over time. If I’d been given the choice, I would have opted to age with my mother—the one who told me we were different.” He didn’t need expression on his face to look sad, somehow.
Nazukihiko thought that the mountain god’s previous ugliness had been due to Ōzaru’s influence, but that might not be true. Perhaps the mountain god had made himself appear monstrous because of his conflicted feelings about his identity.
Shiho thought about what the mountain god had said very carefully. “The mother who said you were different didn’t say you were monstrous,” she said. “I don’t think she hated you or how you looked.”
“How do you know that?” the mountain god asked coldly.
Shiho scratched her cheek. “I can’t know for sure, of course. I was just thinking about beauty and being different. Differences aren’t necessarily bad…” She nodded decisively. “Did you know I like flowers? I mean really like them. I grew up in a small apartment, so I never got to have a garden, but I always wanted one.”
The mountain god blinked. He didn’t understand why Shiho had changed the topic of conversation so abruptly.
“Do you know what gardening is? It’s, uh, yard work—playing in the dirt—uh, anyway, do you understand what I’m saying?”
The mountain god nodded.
Shiho snapped her fingers and smiled. “Good! So, I didn’t have a garden, but I put a flowerpot on the balcony. The potted plant my grandma bought me as a present for getting into a good middle school is my treasure. That potted plant is a camellia flower. It’s a deep red color. It’s so beautiful whenever it blooms. I wanted to see it blooming like that all the time, but it was too big to bring into the house, and it only blooms for a few days each year, so that was impossible. I could have cut it and put it in a vase, but that would kill the flower. I didn’t want to do that.
“After camellias bloom, they shed the old flower and grow a new one. So I started putting the old flowers in a bowl of water. Then I could look at them all the time, and they were still very beautiful. And I didn’t have to cut the plant and hurt it.”
Nazukihiko imagined clear water poured into a small earthenware dish with red flower petals floating in it. It was a pleasant mental image.
“Flowers aren’t like people—they aren’t trying to be beautiful for my benefit or anything,” Shiho said. “They’re not capable of that. But I’ve always thought of them as a gentle and considerate flower. They give me their beauty all year long, and they don’t have to suffer for sharing that beauty with me. I think that’s kind and wise.”
Shiho gave the mountain god a long look. “Not everyone would save a shed camellia flower to look at it in a bowl of water. Some people think camellia bushes are unlucky because they lose their flowers every year. But I think they’re wonderful. They’re my favorite flower.” She smiled. “You are like a camellia flower: beautiful and different. Not everyone is capable of appreciating you, but that doesn’t make you any less lovable.”
A pause. Then, “Humans aren’t simple. Some people love camellia flowers, and some hate them—but it’s the same flower. You can’t paint us all with a broad brush and say that we all think the same.”
The mountain god made a thinking noise.
“I don’t think you’re ugly,” Shiho said. “I wouldn’t think that, no matter what you looked like. I hope you understand that, at least.” She grinned. “You’re my son, and you should be proud of who you are. You’re the flower I love most.”
After that, Shiho began calling the mountain god Tsubaki.
***
After the mountain god grew a bit, Shiho began teaching him how to cook.
The mountain god balked at this. “Cooking is the work of servants and maids! I don’t even need to eat!”
“Tsubaki, with what you just said, you’ve made every housewife in the world your enemy.” She pushed a kitchen knife into his hand. “Cooking is hard work! I make your meals because I care about you. You shouldn’t treat me like a servant or a maid.”
The mountain god harrumphed. “You’re better at cooking than I am, so why do I have to make food?”
“Because mothers teach their children how to cook. My mother and grandmother taught me, and now it’s your turn.”
“Where is your mother now?”
“She and my dad died when I was ten. It was a traffic accident… Just bad luck, really. After that, my grandma taught me cooking, just like she taught my mom. She taught me a lot of things.” She smiled. “I think my mom was the best cook in the whole world. Sometimes I thought about growing up and teaching my daughters all her secrets.”
“I’m your son; I’m not a daughter.”
“Everyone should learn basic life skills. Besides, cooking can be fun. Stop complaining and help.”
The mountain god looked at the kitchen knife in his hand as if it had personally offended him. He chopped carrots unevenly, poorly copying Shiho’s superior technique.
After she finished with the carrots, Shiho started carving the flesh from a large pumpkin. Her knife got stuck, and she couldn’t dislodge it.
“I can help with that, if you’ll allow it,” Nazukihiko said. He reached out to grab the knife and then flicked his wrist. The pumpkin split into two smooth halves. He scooped out the pulp and seeds into a bowl and then handed the pumpkin halves to Shiho. “There you go.”
Shiho stared with her mouth hanging open. “You can cook?”
“I spent some time in the human world. Junten taught me a few cooking skills.”
“How nice,” Shiho said. “Domesticity suits men, I think, just as much as women.”
The mountain god’s expression was difficult to interpret. He’d stopped hurling insults at the Yatagarasu since Shiho’s return, but he was still uncomfortable around Nazukihiko. Nazukihiko sensed this discomfort and always stayed a respectful distance away from the mountain god. There was an awkward tension between them still, but this was far better than the open hostility of before.
Nazukihiko hadn’t spoken a single word to the mountain god since Shiho came back to the sacred realm. The mountain god hadn’t spoken directly to Nazukihiko, either. They weren’t ready to reconcile.
***
“Shiho, I have a request,” Nazukihiko said as he unloaded the groceries that Junten had procured for him that afternoon.
“What is it? If it’s something I can do, I’ll do it. You always take such good care of us here.”
Nazukihiko steeled himself. “Yes, well… you might not remember, but one of my companions was struck down by the mountain god. He lives, but he is hovering on the boundary between life and death.”
Shiho’s smile collapsed. “I remember that someone survived that horrible attack… and they haven’t healed?” she asked softly.
Nazukihiko nodded. “His condition hasn’t worsened, but he’s not healing, either.” The curse that was eating away at Nazukihiko’s right arm and his friend had not been lifted. No medicines or treatments had helped his friend.
“I’m sorry,” Shiho said. “I didn’t know.”
“It’s all right,” Nazukihiko said. “You’ve made many obvious improvements to the mountain god’s realm since your return, and I know you have many responsibilities that occupy your time. You have nothing to apologize for. My request is for the mountain god to heal my companion.”
Shiho’s eyes widened. “You want Tsubaki to heal him?”
“I do not know how else he can be healed. I was going to ask the mountain god directly, but it might be better if you broach the topic indirectly first. We don’t want to make him angry.”
Nazukihiko’s arm was healing, albeit slowly. The only difference between him and his friend in terms of treatment was that his friend was in Yamauchi, and he was in the mountain god’s realm. Nazukihiko hoped that his friend might be healed by spending time in the mountain god’s realm.
Asking the mountain god for help galled him—the mountain god had caused these terrible wounds. But there didn’t seem to be a way to heal them without the mountain god’s cooperation. He was willing to do anything to save his friend’s life. He hated the mountain god beyond measure; that wasn’t about to change. But he had no qualms about using the mountain god’s power for his own benefit.
Shiho and Nazukihiko stared at each other in silence for a while. Then Shiho nodded. “All right. I’ll bring it up. We’ll find some way to heal your friend.”
Later that day, Shiho came to an agreement with the mountain god. Tsubaki prevaricated for a few moments, but he didn’t become angry. He permitted Nazukihiko to transport his wounded guard to the mountain god’s realm.
Nazukihiko brought his friend into the mountain god’s realm the very next morning.
***
Shiho accompanied Tsubaki to the Forbidden Gate to watch the Yatagarasu pass through. The moment the injured man came through the gate, a terrible smell like rotting flesh assaulted Shiho’s senses. The crisp, cool mountain air of the mountain god’s realm couldn’t cover that terrible reek.
She thought she’d been prepared for the worst based on what Nazukihiko had told her, but what she saw was horrific beyond description. The unconscious man was carried forward on a folded rice mat. Once in a while, he would grunt or groan without waking. He was bandaged everywhere, but his movements shook the dressings loose; Shiho saw suppurating skin and burns. The bandages were soaked through and stained brown.
The Yatagarasu carrying their injured comrade faced the mountain god like they were stoic. No emotion showed on their faces. A young woman trailed behind them, her forehead pinched with worry.
“This is my cousin, Masuho no Susuki. She has been caring for him all this time,” Nazukihiko said.
Now that he’d mentioned it, Shiho noticed that Nazukihiko and Masuho no Susuki shared a family resemblance. She was a beautiful woman, but exhausted and careworn: she looked like a peony beaten by a rainstorm. Her eyes were red and slightly puffy. Shiho wanted to comfort her, but she didn’t know how.
“Will the treatment work this time?” Masuho no Susuki asked Nazukihiko. “Are you certain?”
Shiho trembled and bowed her head. “I hope so.”
Masuho no Susuki’s expression hardened, and then she dropped to her knees and prostrated herself on the floor.
Shiho gasped. “Please! You don’t have to bow to me—please get up!”
Masuho no Susuki didn’t move an inch.
Panicked, Shiho looked to Nazukihiko. “What is she doing?”
“She wants you to save him,” Nazukihiko said.
Masuho no Susuki bit back tears. “Yes. If you save his life, I will not wish for anything else in the entire world.”
Nazukihiko also bowed to Shiho. “That is my wish as well.”
Shiho was overwhelmed. This show of deference was simply too much.
Tsubaki looked at the horribly burned Yatagarasu on the rice mat and frowned. His face was pale.
“Are you all right?” Shiho asked. “Do you think you can heal him?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never tried. I suppose I must try now.” His voice was hoarse.
The Yatagarasu carrying the rice mat set it down before the mountain god and retreated.
Tsubaki approached the injured man shyly, as if he were afraid of being bitten.
The injured man showed no sign that he knew the mountain god was there.
Tsubaki stared at the man’s chest, which rose and fell with shaky breaths. Then he pushed aside bandages and a stained white sleeve and pressed his fingers to a patch of burned skin. “Heal.”
Would it? He didn’t know.
An invisible force pressed down on the mountain god’s shoulders. The air felt thicker and harder to breathe. He felt like someone was trying to crush him to death from above. Static crackled in his hands. The fine hairs on his arms and neck stood upright in the oppressive stillness.
“Heal!” Tsubaki repeated. His voice dropped cavernously deep. It reverberated through the rocky cavern. It was so hard for him to breathe; the edges of his vision went black.
Masuho no Susuki clasped her hands together and bowed her head in prayer. She had no words of reproach for him. She was praying to him for deliverance.
Please save him.
Tsubaki felt her sincerity as he took shallow breaths. How much time had passed? Only minutes, but they felt like hours.
Then the invisible hand holding Tsubaki down vanished, and he could breathe again. There was a ringing in his ears that receded little by little.
Was it over?
Tsubaki staggered away from the injured man as Masuho no Susuki ran to him and started removing bandages.
None of the wounds had healed. When they were exposed to the cold air, the injured Yatagarasu started screaming.
Masuho no Susuki hastily replaced the bandages as she cried. She curled in on herself, not sparing a glance for anyone, and wept silently into the sleeve of her dress. She reached for the injured man’s hand, but she didn’t dare take it and cause him pain.
“I can’t do it,” Tsubaki said to Masuho no Susuki. “I tried.” He fled from the room.
“Tsubaki!” Shiho called after him.
He didn’t stop.
Shiho chased after him, but he was running fast, and she lost track of him.
The clear blue of the sky and the gentle brightness of the sunshine were a balm to her nerves after spending so much time in the dark, cold cavern near the Forbidden Gate. It was early summer; there was a pleasant breeze today. Dappled sunlight filtered through the leaves of tall trees. The purification spring glittered in the middle distance, inviting and beautiful.
Where had Tsubaki gone? Shiho looked in every direction. She’d run so fast that she was sweating now.
A white ball of fur bounded over to her excitedly.
“Momo!” Shiho called out. The puppy had grown quite a bit since coming here. It was like the puppy was mirroring Tsubaki’s growth — they were maturing together. Momo’s ears stood straight up when he was alert; they no longer drooped as they had when he was a newborn puppy. His tottering steps had become sure-footed and swift.
Momo spun on his heel and then looked back at Shiho. Then he looked forward again and started walking.
Shiho smiled and followed the dog. They skirted around the edges of the spring at a light jog and stopped in the shade of a large boulder. The air was pleasantly chilly here.
Tsubaki sat with his back against the boulder and his knees pulled up to his chest. Momo licked his face happily, but he didn’t react.
Shiho didn’t know what she should say. She believed that Tsubaki had tried to heal the Yatagarasu. Failure probably wasn’t something he was used to. She sat beside him without saying a word.
Momo cocked an ear at Shiho and whined.
Shiho reached out to pet the puppy’s head and scratch him behind the ears. The breeze shook the branches of the trees overhead and swept through Shiho’s hair.
“Shiho.”
“Yes?” she asked.
The Yatagarasu hadn’t followed them here. She wasn’t surprised. There wasn’t anything else they could ask for, and they had the injured man to attend to.
“Shiho, if I weren’t the mountain god, would you still stay with me?” Tsubaki asked.
“Of course,” Shiho said. “God or not, you’re my son, remember?” She tried to say this firmly, but her tone softened as she spoke.
Tsubaki sighed deeply. “What should I do, Shiho? I’m a god. I should be able to do… almost anything, so why can’t I heal that man? What’s wrong with me?”
“You think that something’s wrong?” Shiho asked.
Tsubaki nodded with a helpless expression. “Sometimes, I lose myself in anger. Until now, I thought that was fine. But I cannot fix what I break with my own powers. I only realized that I couldn’t do it after I tried. I… am incomplete, somehow.” He slid his hands into his hair and pulled.
Shiho thought that he looked like a potter dissatisfied with his latest work.
“Tsubaki,” Shiho said, “you might be incomplete because you’re growing. That might not be a problem, at least not long-term.” She shifted so that she was sitting formally in front of him. She wanted to look him in the eyes.
“You are kind to say so, but you could be wrong,” Tsubaki said. He smiled bitterly.
Shiho bit her lip. “I could be. And so could you. Gods aren’t all-powerful. Even if you were complete, you might not be able to do it.” Shiho had never believed in all-knowing, omnipotent gods. Encountering an actual god hadn’t shifted this belief an inch. She knew that the mountain god was powerful, but so were many people. No one and nothing was all-powerful. Tsubaki certainly wasn’t.
That was why she’d come back here. Tsubaki was a vulnerable child despite his immense power.
“Sometimes, we do things that we can’t undo,” Shiho said. “That’s true of humans as well as gods. Sometimes, what’s lost can’t be regained. But regret doesn’t help anything. You can wish that you hadn’t done something all you want, but that won’t change what’s happened. It’s good to reflect on your actions so that you don’t make the same mistake, but you’ve boxed yourself into an unsolvable labyrinth. There’s no point in lamenting that you’re not omnipotent when you never were.”
“Then what should I do?”
Shiho tapped her chin. “Try thinking about what you can do right now.”
“What I can do right now…” Tsubaki still looked lost, like he hadn’t quite absorbed everything that Shiho had said.
Shiho hoped that Tsubaki found a path forward that satisfied him.
Tsubaki clenched the hem of his kimono in both hands and glared murderously at his kneecaps. “I want to try again,” he said. “I don’t want to give up. Not yet.”
“All right. Shall we go back?”
Shiho hadn’t expected Tsubaki to want to try again right away, but if he was confident about what he wanted to do, she wouldn’t stop him. This was progress. He wanted to heal, not harm. And she very much wanted the Yatagarasu man to be healed.
As Shiho and Tsubaki walked through the tunnels that led to the Forbidden Gate, they saw Ōzaru speaking with one of the Yatagarasu. Shiho hadn’t seen him for several days.
Ōzaru bowed once to Tsubaki and then left without saying a word.
Tsubaki approached the injured Yatagarasu. “I’d like to try again,” he said.
Nazukihiko blinked, surprised. He’d already given up. He composed himself quickly and said, “Then please do.” He moved away from the injured man’s side.
Tsubaki concentrated, mustering all his strength. “Heal!” he called out in a voice like thunder.
But still, nothing happened.
The Yatagarasu bowed their heads and looked away.
“Heal! Please…” Tsubaki’s voice shook.
Shiho stayed near her son.
The Yatagarasu man did not heal. The skin that was visible through the bandages was painfully raw.
Shiho closed her eyes. This poor man wouldn’t be so injured if she hadn’t escaped…
“I’m sorry.” Shiho crouched down to the man. With trembling fingers, she gently took his hand in hers.
The man groaned in pain and writhed violently, shaking her off.
Shiho’s eyes widened. She let go of the man’s hand, thinking that she had aggravated his wounds somehow.
But that wasn’t it. The air sharpened around her like the aftermath of a thunder strike. Tsubaki looked at her, stunned.
A gust of air swept through the chamber, cleansing it of the reek of blood and pus. The fresh, clean smell reminded Shiho of the purification spring. Pale blue light danced along the Yatagarasu man’s wounds, as delicate as soap bubbles, and soaked into his skin where Shiho had touched him. The particles of light looked like fireflies dancing above still water as they converged upon the man’s injuries.
The dark chamber was briefly lit in white and blue like an underwater world. Shiho heard a loud pop like a bubble bursting. She looked around herself in a daze, unsure of what was happening.
The Yatagarasu man before her no longer seemed to be in pain.
Masuho no Susuki moved before anyone else did. She removed the bandages from the man’s arm with great care, revealing healed skin. She gasped.
The wounds were not entirely healed, but they were healing rapidly. Pale pink skin closed over cuts that were no longer infected. The man’s breathing had calmed; he was asleep.
Masuho no Susuki grabbed the man’s shoulders and fell over him, crying in joy.
“Shiho healed him,” Tsubaki said in awe. “She did it.” He smiled.
“Wait a minute—I didn’t do anything,” Shiho said.
Tsubaki shook his head, still smiling. Shiho had never seen him so happy before. “Of course you did it! Everyone saw you! You healed this man.”
Shiho looked to Nazukihiko, hoping for his support. He was just as stunned as everyone else in the chamber, but he composed himself quickly. “You are the mountain god’s mother. There is nothing strange about you having healing capabilities.”
Tsubaki was overjoyed. “I finally understand. The part of me that was missing was you!” He nodded to himself. “As long as my mother is here, there’s nothing to fear.”
Tsubaki spread his arms wide and pulled Shiho into a tight hug.
Translator's Note
Tsubaki means “camellia” in Japanese.
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