Yatagarasu Series
Volume 5:
Princess Tamayori
Author: Abe Chisato
Part 6: Falling Petals
It was a clear summer day. The scent of flowering trees carried on the wind. Shiho was playing with Tsubaki and Momo in a shallow stream.
Lush green leaves dappled the bright sunlight, making the splashing water glitter. The stream only reached about knee-deep on Shiho. The water was perfectly clear, and the stream bottom was smooth, fine sand.
Masuho no Susuki sat on a large stone near the shore with towels and a change of clothes for Shiho and the mountain god. She looked down at them with an affectionate smile.
Suddenly, Momo looked up from the very interesting rock he’d been sniffing underwater and barked.
“Found something?” Tsubaki asked.
Tsubaki rolled aside the stone that Momo had been sniffing. A surprised river crab sprang out from beneath the disturbed stone.
“Good job. Well done,” Tsubaki said to the dog.
“Tsubaki, this way—drive it over here!” Shiho called out.
The river crab darted about quickly as it tried to escape. If they caught it, Masuho no Susuki would deep-fry it as a snack. Shiho and Tsubaki chased the crab, completely absorbed by their task.
“Got it!” Tsubaki cried out happily as he caught the river crab. “Look, Mother.”
Shiho clapped her hands and smiled. “Amazing. It looks like the biggest one yet!”
“It’s for you, Mother.”
“Oh, how kind. But you caught it, so you should eat it.”
“It’s fine. I’ll find an even bigger one next time,” Tsubaki said, his cheeks reddening as he called out to Momo. He was in high spirits today.
Momo’s ears rose. He pointed his nose toward Masuho no Susuki.
Ōzaru was looking down at them from a low hill along the shore.
Tsubaki frowned like thunderclouds, his entire demeanor changing in the time it took to blink.
Ōzaru’s expression was difficult to interpret. His eyes shone with something like joy or triumph, but there was something guarded in the set of his jaw and the tightness of his shoulders.
“How do you fare today, mountain god?” Ōzaru asked.
“It has been a long time since I’ve seen you. Why have you come?”
“I have a message for your mother,” Ōzaru said.
Shiho blinked. The wind picked up, blowing her wet hair over her shoulders. The shadow of an enormous bird passed overhead. The bird dove down into the stream. Black wings spread out on the water’s surface.
Then the huge bird’s shape dissolved, leaving a much smaller human behind.
“Nazukihiko!” Shiho called out.
Nazukihiko shook himself. His black clothes were soaking wet. He placed himself between Shiho and Ōzaru as if he wanted to protect her.
“Shiho. What did he say to you?”
“Um, he hasn’t said anything yet.”
“Good.” Nazukihiko sighed. He was slightly out of breath. “Good. We’ll talk more later. You should return to the mountain god’s chamber.”
“Your interference was not requested, little raven,” Ōzaru snarled.
“Silence,” Nazukihiko said.
“You can’t hide this,” Ōzaru said. “Someday, it will be known, no matter what you do.”
“What will be known? Did something happen?” Tsubaki asked sharply.
Nazukihiko bit his lip. “No…”
Nazukihiko was a poor liar.
“Don’t evade the question. Speak plainly,” Tsubaki said impatiently.
Nazukihiko looked at Shiho.
“Your grandmother is dead,” Ōzaru said.
“Stop!” Nazukihiko shouted.
Shiho heard what Ōzaru had said, but she didn’t comprehend it. It was impossible. “My grandmother… She went to the village, didn’t she?” Shiho felt cold through. “No. She can’t be dead. She can’t be.” She faced Nazukihiko, seeking reassurance.
Nazukihiko closed his eyes and looked down.
“Heart failure,” Ōzaru said.
Shiho’s strength drained out of her.
“That’s a lie. This is how you plan to take me back, isn’t it?” Her grandmother could not possibly be dead. Shiho had argued with her just the other day, and she’d been healthy and well. “I won’t believe it.”
Nazukihiko gave her a pitying look. “Calm yourself,” he said. “Your grandmother went to your uncle’s house, got into an argument, and then collapsed. It is true that she was taken to the hospital, but that doesn’t mean she’s dead.”
Ōzaru snorted derisively.
“Do not offer the girl empty words of consolation. I saw her collapse—she is already beyond saving.”
“You don’t know that!” Nazukihiko snapped. “Listen. Junten administered first aid before the ambulance arrived. There is still a chance she can be saved.”
Wind whooshed through the treetops. Shiho focused on the sound for a brief, panicked moment, thinking that later there might be rain. But not now.
“Then… Grandma collapsed? Why? She’s never been ill…”
“I believe she has suffered a myocardial infarction. A heart attack,” Nazukihiko said grimly.
Shiho couldn’t think straight. “Where is she?”
“The village hospital.”
“How far is that from here?”
Nazukihiko hesitated, but he said, “If we hurry, we can get there in about thirty minutes.”
Tsubaki was expressionless, his eyes on his feet.
“Please allow me to go outside,” Shiho said.
Tsubaki remained silent.
“Someone important to me is in danger. Please let me go—just for a little while.”
Tsubaki glared into empty space.
Impatient with Tsubaki’s silence, Shiho gave up on further dialogue.
“Fine. There’s no time right now. I’ll definitely come back, so let’s talk later.”
Shiho left the water. “Nazukihiko, please take me with you.”
“I won’t allow it,” Tsubaki said quietly.
Every hair on Shiho’s body stood on end. She turned around and saw the murderous sneer on his face—the same expression of contempt that he’d given her when she’d first arrived in the mountain god’s realm.
Tsubaki looked at Shiho with unvarnished hatred.
Masuho no Susuki gasped.
The trees swayed ominously in the strengthening wind.
Momo ran over to Shiho and faced Tsubaki. He growled threateningly.
“I will not allow it. I will never allow it. I don’t care what happens to your loved ones in the outside world,” Tsubaki said.
Shiho’s world went out of focus. “Please let me go. I’ll definitely come back!”
“Don’t lie.”
“I—”
“I will not allow it.” Tsubaki raised his voice. “If I let you go, you will never return. I won’t be deceived again—not ever again. Humans are deceptive creatures. They’re cowards who break their word.”
Shiho lacked the time and focus to consider a measured response. She shouted at Tsubaki with real anger. “Have I ever deceived you? Enough with your selfishness. Let me go!”
“No,” Tsubaki said.
Shiho bit her lip. She saw the bond of trust she had desperately built with Tsubaki break. “I’m telling you to let your mother go, Tsubaki.”
“You think you can give me orders? I’m the mountain god!” His voice was like ice. “I have no need for servants who will not obey my commands. If you resist me, I shall devour you.” There was no light at all in his dark eyes. His teeth were sharpened like fangs. His beautiful face uglified, sprouting wrinkles, spots, and hair at an alarming rate. The hair of his head became a dingy gray like dirty snow.
The mountain god faced Ōzaru. “You. Do not let this woman out of this realm. Keep her confined.”
“As you command.” Ōzaru bowed extravagantly.
Shiho looked from Ōzaru to Tsubaki. “You don’t understand what you’re doing.”
“I don’t need to understand.”
“Mountain god, please calm yourself!” Nazukihiko raised his voice, but the mountain god paid him no heed.
The mountain god covered his ears with his hands and shook his head from side to side.
“What are you dawdling for? Leave me!” He looked down.
Later that night, Shiho learned that her grandmother had passed away in the hospital.
***
Thunder rumbled outside the tunnels.
The mountain god’s chamber, lit by occasional flashes of lightning, was in disarray, just as it had been before Shiho arrived. The brand-new wall hangings had been torn to shreds in a fit of anger; the flowers lay scattered on the floor. The tiger lilies had been cruelly trampled.
The mountain god lay in his bed, buried in blankets and hunched in on himself.
Nazukihiko was familiar with the mountain god’s wrathful moods. Ordinarily, he would never risk addressing the god when he was in such a state. But now he understood that there was no way to change the mountain god’s essential nature.
“Mountain god.”
The mountain god stirred in his bed.
“A raven?”
“Yes. It’s me.”
The mountain god’s eyes were as black as pits. “How is Shiho?”
“She is confined and guarded, as you commanded. She wept when she learned of her grandmother’s death.”
The mountain god groaned like a beast in pain. “Was that a lie, or did Shiho’s grandmother really die?”
“Unfortunately, it is the truth.”
Nazukihiko had been stunned when he’d first heard of Hisano’s collapse. She had no other family, so Shiho’s uncle would be responsible for Hisano’s funeral arrangements. Nazukihiko had secretly gone to the village to see things for himself.
He’d seen Hisano’s body with his own eyes. She was definitely dead.
The mountain god no longer looked like a monster. There was no oppressive anger hanging in the air.
“By the name of your ancestor, can you swear it is not a lie?”
“Yes. By the true Golden Raven’s name, I swear it.”
There was a brief silence.
“So Shiho cried?”
“Yes.”
“After locking her up, I said I’d devour her again.”
“Yes.”
“Does she hate me now?”
“If she does, she would never say it. Not to you.”
The mountain god caught his breath at that. “You’re right. I should know that better than you do.” He sighed deeply. “This won’t do.” The mountain god rose from his bed without making a sound. He no longer looked like a boy, but a man.
“I wanted to keep depending on Shiho for a while longer, but I no longer wish to remain in a child’s form,” the mountain god said. He walked over to Nazukihiko. He looked like a young man, a little younger than Nazukihiko, perhaps seventeen or eighteen. He was handsome, with chiseled features and clearly defined muscles. He was shorter than Nazukihiko, but Nazukihiko was fairly certain that the mountain god was still growing.
“Is that your true form?”
“No. How should I put it? I feel like I’m still not complete.”
It was surreal for Nazukihiko to have a civil conversation with the mountain god. This never would have happened if Shiho hadn’t returned.
“You had another name, an original name,” Nazukihiko said. “If you could remember that, would you be complete?”
“I told you before. I have no interest in my former name. It is enough for Shiho to be here, and remain here.” His voice was firm.
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
“Really?” Nazukihiko asked. “You have no interest at all in who you used to be?”
The mountain god was so stubborn. What had made him like this?
Shiho had said there must be some reason why the mountain god’s original nature had changed. Perhaps the Yatagarasu were involved in that change in some way.
“What did I do to you?” the mountain god asked. “That’s your real question, isn’t it?”
Nazukihiko nodded. “I don’t remember what happened. What my predecessor did. It sounds like an excuse, but I swear I have no memory of what he did. I barely remember that he fled from you. I don’t know why or how he made you so angry.”
The mountain god laughed bitterly. “Even if you remembered, you probably wouldn’t understand the reason. If you’re wondering why I’m like this, well… it isn’t your fault, nor was it your predecessor’s.”
Nazukihiko was speechless.
“Back then, I entrusted Naritsuhiko with the protection of Yamauchi. You were not always at my side, serving me.”
A voice shouted in Nazukihiko’s mind, so loud it made him wince and drop to one knee. “You are the master of this mountain! I did as I was told!” Naritsuhiko shouted out of Nazukihiko’s mouth.
“Silence, Naritsuhiko! You—do you think you can understand my suffering?” The mountain god stumbled and fell, his body curling in like a pill bug’s. Lightning burst from his body.
Nazukihiko heard screams. His people were pulling him away from the too-bright mountain god, shouting in their panic.
Nazukihiko was trapped in his own mind, haunted by his predecessor’s voice and memories. Naritsuhiko wasn’t speaking to or through Nazukihiko now, but he was showing him a piece of what had happened a century ago.
‘That’s it—there’s no saving him. He has lost his true identity and is no longer a mountain god worthy of worship. He is not a blessing to our people, but a curse. If we leave things as they are, he might destroy all of Yamauchi.”
Someone had asked Naritsuhiko, “What will you do?”
“It’s beyond my ability to control or change. We must abandon him.”
Naritsuhiko had fled to the Forbidden Gate. He and one of his attendants were the only survivors. He was desperate to let at least one of his people escape so that Yamauchi would be warned.
“I will seal this gate. There is no other choice; I must forsake this realm. Leave this task to me, and run!”
The attendant clung to him in grief.
Naritsuhiko said, “I leave my children in your hands.”
The memory made Nazukihiko dizzy enough to be sick.
***
When Nazukihiko finally returned to his senses, the mountain god was staring at him.
“It seems you have remembered something. So did I.”
Nazukihiko gasped. “Mountain god… I… we…”
Why had he forgotten this? And why had he remembered it now?
Naritsuhiko had run from the rampaging mountain god and tried to protect his fellow Yatagarasu. Nazukihiko understood that his predecessor really had served the mountain god—and that he’d been punished in some horrible way.
“We came here to serve you, yet we left your side.” Nazukihiko prostrated himself before the mountain god.
The mountain god gave him a bitter smile. “You need say no more. I did a terrible thing to the true Golden Raven who tried to restrain my violence. Now I can see that it was only natural for you all to abandon me.”
A shadow passed over the doorway. Masuho no Susuki stood there, alarmed. She was supposed to be in Shiho’s room.
“Masuho no Susuki, what is it?” Nazukihiko asked in the language of the Yatagarasu.
Masuho no Susuki bowed formally. “Please pardon my intrusion. Shiho told me that she would soon be retiring to bed, and she wishes to speak to you, mountain god.”
“Very well. I will go.”
The mountain god walked past Nazukihiko and Masuho no Susuki as if they were beneath his notice.
“Are you all right?” Masuho no Susuki asked when the mountain god was gone. “What happened?”
“I remember now. What happened in the past. Why the Yatagarasu dwell in Yamauchi…”
Nazukihiko rose unsteadily to his feet with Masuho no Susuki’s help. The sudden return of his memories hit him like a shock wave. His head ached like it was going to split open. He ignored the pain, willing himself to focus and understand his predecessor’s shared wisdom and knowledge.
“Yamauchi was the mountain god’s demesne.”
“His demesne? What’s that?”
Nazukihiko rubbed his forehead. “Before coming to this mountain, the mountain god was very powerful. His shrine was far larger than the one in Sannai Village. It was normal for him to receive thousands of offerings a year. He possessed vast land holdings and commanded an army of servants and retainers who prepared those offerings for him.
“And of course, he had many shrine servants to manage all of his offerings and rites.
“That god came to this mountain with practically nothing. Far fewer people worshiped him when he came here. His sacred rites could not be conducted in the same way as before.
“You might think that the mountain god would adapt to the circumstances of the new land he found himself in, but he was a severe and rigid god, and would change nothing. To make up for the shortage of offerings in his new environment, he created another world within the mountain and made it his demesne—a domain of his own creation.
“That is Yamauchi. The mountain god granted the Yatagarasu who dwelt there a human form so that they could perform necessary tasks in his service. He needed people to cultivate fields, hunt, weave cloth, procure goods, and so on.”
“It’s like the old story,” Masuho no Susuki said. “Every child knows it.”
She recited the story from memory:
“Once upon a time, the mountain god descended upon this land. Water overflowed from the mountain peaks. Trees blossomed and fruited. Ears of rice bowed heavily under the weight of the ripe grain.
“And when the mountain god saw the fertility of the area, he commanded a golden raven to prepare the land for his purposes.
“So the golden raven divided the land among his four children.
“To his first child, he gave the eastern part, which was covered in wildflowers.
“To his second child, he gave the southern part, which was full of orchards.
“To his third child, he gave the western part, which was rich with rice and grain.
“To his fourth child, he gave the northern part, where clear water flowed continuously from the mountains.
“The four children promised the golden raven that they would protect the land that had been given to them, and that their descendants would protect the land after them.
“This was the beginning of the four families and the four lands, and the beginning of the imperial family—and the golden raven.”
The Yatagarasu were industrious, and their historical specialties remained important in Touke, Nanke, Saike, and Hokke Territory. The finest trade goods were shipped to the capital for the imperial family’s use.
But what if that hadn’t always been the case? Maybe in the past, the best of everything would have been transported from Souke Territory to the mountain god’s realm.
“It’s odd, but I never thought of Yamauchi’s treasures being religious in nature,” Masuho no Susuki said. “But it all fits. The Touke family learns ritual dances dedicated to the mountain god, and music is their specialty. Nanke weaves high-quality cloth. Saike are artisans who craft precious treasures thanks to their wealth. Hokke produces more rice wine than the other territories combined—I wonder if they used to make sacred wine for the mountain god? It would make sense.”
It also explained why the Yatagarasu couldn’t leave Yamauchi without losing their human forms. Leaving Yamauchi meant that a Yatagarasu had given up their duty as a servant to the mountain god, so the power to transform was taken from them.
Nazukihiko had so many answers that he’d wanted now, but those answers didn’t help him. A century ago, Naritsuhiko had ceased serving the mountain god to save his people. He’d closed the Forbidden Gate so that none of the Yatagarasu could return to the mountain god’s realm.
Nazukihiko covered his face with both hands. The past was full of mistakes and failures. He let them wash over him, humbling himself under the weight of past memories.
***
Shiho sat in her new room being guarded by Kuisaru. Until now, she hadn’t known that this place had something like a dungeon. She had a window, but it was latticed and couldn’t be opened from the inside. The door was narrow. Water dripped down from above. It was a miserable, dark place that reminded Shiho of the room she’d stayed in when she’d first arrived in the mountain god’s realm.
“Shiho?”
Shiho kept her back turned and did not move an inch.
Momo sat beside her and snapped at any Kuisaru that came too close. Momo didn’t bark at Tsubaki, but his tail was rigid.
“I won’t do anything,” Tsubaki said. He gestured for the door to be unlocked; the Kuisaru guards unlocked it, and he came inside.
Shiho’s eyes were red and puffy from crying.
The mountain god felt a sudden surge of guilt. He scooped Shiho up, and they left the room together.
***
The storm had ended, leaving the mountain air crisp and clean. Raindrops dripped down from the leaves on the trees. There was no wind. Clouds streaked through the sky. The moon rose, peeking out from behind the slight cloud cover.
The mountain god sat down on a relatively dry stone, still carrying Shiho. Momo had followed them out of Shiho’s room, staying a step behind them both.
“I see. You’re protecting Shiho, aren’t you?” the mountain god asked.
Momo’s ears flicked back as he tilted his head. He looked like a much younger puppy in that pose, and the mountain god laughed. “You’ve grown up a little just like me, but you’re still a pup at heart.”
Shiho looked up at him. “How did you get so big so fast?” she asked. “Good morning, Tsubaki. Though it’s night already.”
“Good morning, Mother.”
They’d greeted one another like that dozens of times before.
Shiho sat up and reached for Momo, who came closer to be petted. Momo yawned sleepily.
“I slept in a weird position, so I’m stiff all over,” Shiho said. She stretched extravagantly.
“Mother,” the mountain god said.
“Hm?”
“I’m sorry.”
Shiho didn’t reply. She looked into the forest, not focusing on anything in particular.
Momo’s tail stopped wagging.
The water of the stream rushed past them. Aside from that, there was no other sound.
“I’m fine,” Shiho said after a long pause. She slowly turned around. Her eyes were wet with tears. “I was selfish. I’m sorry. From the moment I came back here, the possibility of this happening was always there. I had an opportunity to go back, but I decided to stay. So all of this is my fault.” She sighed. “I wasn’t a good granddaughter. I’m sorry, Grandma. You raised me better than that. I shouldn’t have said all those awful things. I didn’t mean them.”
She would never be able to apologize to her grandma face-to-face now.
“I wonder if that’s why she died,” Shiho said dully. “If I hurt her so badly that she just gave up.”
The mountain god came closer to Shiho, who sobbed into his shoulder.
“It isn’t your fault,” the mountain god said. “You didn’t hurt your grandmother.”
Shiho kept crying.
“If you weren’t here, I wouldn’t have been able to grow as a god. Please don’t blame yourself for choosing to stay. You should hate me, not yourself. You loved me so much, but I couldn’t trust you.” He ran his fingers through Shiho’s soft hair. “I couldn’t stand the thought that you would betray me and refuse to return. A long time ago, a woman swore to me that she would return, and she never did. That’s why I can’t trust you,” he said. “I have no intention of asking you to forgive me. I’ve committed a crime against you and your grandmother, and I am sorry about it.”
“The woman who didn’t come back… was that Sayo?” Shiho asked.
The mountain god’s shoulders tensed. He’d never spoken of Sayo before. “I… I didn’t remember her name until tonight.”
Shiho lifted her face. “Tell me what happened to Sayo. Do you remember?”
***
Sayo was about my own physical age when she arrived, so it felt strange to call her my mother. Her voice was so childish that it was jarring.
I lifted my face from the bedding and came face-to-face with a girl who was no older than ten.
“Who are you?” I asked. I was weary from dealing with Hideka. She and Sayo were as different as night and day. Sayo’s wide-eyed curiosity and innocent demeanor made her seem even younger than I was.
“She might be a little too young, but… after all that’s happened, there’s no other way around it.”
Naritsuhiko didn’t seem entirely at ease with the new Princess Tamayori, either. Having one was evidently preferable to not having one, though, so Sayo was here.
I had yet to reach maturity. Until my divine power stabilized enough for me to descend the mountain unassisted, I would need to be nurtured by a human woman. But could this girl really fulfill such an important role?
Naritsuhiko’s gaze lingered on Sayo doubtfully, and their eyes met.
The girl’s cheeks flushed slightly as she fidgeted with the hem of her ceremonial robe. She smiled shyly. “I’m Sayo,” she said, her voice tinged with nervous excitement. “It’s very nice to meet you all.”
Unlike the generations of Princess Tamayoris who had preceded her, Sayo had not given birth to the mountain god. It was only natural that being called his mother felt strange to her. It was odd for me to call her my mother, too. When we began living together, it frequently felt like our roles were reversed. I often took care of Sayo since she was still a child.
I cherished our time together. Sayo was a kind and gentle girl, and her presence brought me many moments of joy. My long-lost smile returned to me. I saw that Naritsuhiko was relieved.
“I’ll return to Yamauchi,” Naritsuhiko said to me. “If anything happens, feel free to summon me.” Then he left to spend time with his family.
Naritsuhiko led the Yatagarasu, but because things had been unsettled in my realm for quite a while, he spent a great deal of time here. He left me with Sayo, a few Yatagarasu priestesses, and Kuisaru to perform menial tasks and guard me.
It was unprecedented for a Princess Tamayori to be more like a childhood friend than a mother, but I didn’t really mind. I liked Sayo a good deal. We spent many happy days together, unique but strangely fulfilling. Sayo became attached to me, and I felt sure that we would be happy for a very long time.
As Sayo blossomed into adulthood, I neared my own maturity. My feelings toward her transformed in ways I couldn’t quite comprehend, diverging sharply from what I’d felt for past Princess Tamayoris.
One day, a Kuisaru messenger who often brought things for me from the village delivered news about Sayo’s family. Sayo’s face drained of color.
“Your mother has collapsed?” I asked.
Sayo nodded. “Is she all right? Is she recovering?” Sayo asked the messenger.
“She doesn’t have much time left,” came the solemn reply.
“Mountain god,” Sayo said, lowering herself to her knees and pressing her forehead to the ground. “Please. I may never get to see my mother again. May I please go home and say goodbye to her?” Her voice trembled with emotion. “Please! Grant me permission to visit my mother one last time!”
It was forbidden for any Princess Tamayori to leave my realm. Sayo knew this, but still she begged me. My resolve faltered when faced with her naked desperation. It was rare for Sayo to request anything for herself. I felt that, just this once, it would be all right to grant her wish.
The messenger pressed me for an answer. I said, “Let her go.”
“Really?” the messenger asked.
Sayo’s face lit up with joy. “Thank you! Oh, thank you so much!” She launched herself at me, pulling me into a tight hug.
Taking a sackful of provisions and a few delicately crafted hairpins as gifts for her family, Sayo left my realm.
I had no idea that I would never see her again. She had promised to return after just one day, intending only to visit her ailing mother, bid her final farewell, and, if required, leave behind an ornate hairpin to cover the costs of medical care. Her departure was meant to be temporary.
But when the sun dipped below the mountain and dusk arrived, Sayo did not return. I waited longer, then longer still, but the realization began to weigh heavily on me.
Sayo wasn’t coming back.
She never came back.
What could have happened to her? Perhaps she grew too emotional and decided to spend a little more time with her mother in the village? I tried not to fault her. She had always been steadfast and sincere. This had to be an aberration.
Another night passed, then another. Doubt crept in like a persistent shadow, and patience finally gave way to unease.
Seeking answers, I summoned one of the Kuisaru. The creature approached hesitantly and told me, “Sayo is not in the village.”
My chest tightened. I faltered, shaking with both disbelief and agitation. “What… what do you mean? How could that be? What about her mother?”
“She’s still there,” the Kuisaru replied softly.
“And Sayo? Sayo is gone? Impossible… Where could she have gone?” The knot in my spirit twisted until even speaking was an effort.
With growing dread, I raced to the shrine gate overlooking the village, straining desperately for just a glimpse of Sayo. But I never saw her. There was no trace of her anywhere.
“Where is she? Why did she vanish?” I asked, my voice thick with despair.
The Kuisaru stood silent for a long time before saying, “I’m afraid she isn’t here.”
Bitter anguish clutched at my heart. This was not the first time I’d been stung by betrayal. My mind dragged me back to years ago, to this very place, where Eiko had tried to escape with another man. That memory clawed at me mercilessly. The scene overlapped with this fresh wound until it felt like a nightmare looping endlessly.
“Sayo ran away… From me…” The words felt foreign on my tongue. “Was she waiting for this—an opportunity to escape? Was this her plan all along?”
Those around me dared not answer. The Yatagarasu women, sensing my mounting instability, recoiled silently, terrified by my transformation.
I had been deceived again—a cruel repetition of past pain. Rage blossomed and swelled within me, suffocating reason as it went. “She betrayed me!” I bellowed. “Sayo swore she would return. Why did she abandon me?!”
I roared my pain to the heavens. Mountains rumbled because of my sorrow; birds shrieked as they fled from me; animals scattered in fear of my fury.
And into this storm, Naritsuhiko arrived.
“What’s happening here?” Naritsuhiko asked sharply, alarm etched in every line of his face.
Broken and trembling with frustration, I could barely utter any coherent words. “Once again… betrayed… They’re all liars.”
“You have torn this mountain apart solely because Sayo fled from this place?” Naritsuhiko’s voice hardened reproachfully. “You are throwing a tantrum over a mere woman.”
Fury flared behind my eyes. “‘A mere woman,’ you say? And what do you know of it?”
“I know enough to say this: if she truly fled of her own accord, Sayo is no longer Princess Tamayori. Your stature as a god—your legacy—is worth far more than a misplaced attachment to someone who doesn’t deserve it!”
Naritsuhiko’s words carried weight like fatal blows to an already bruised soul. “Why are you letting this consume you? What will you accomplish by succumbing so easily to despair?”
At this reprimand, my restraint shattered entirely. “You speak of things you don’t understand!” I roared back. “Silence, Naritsuhiko! As if you could ever understand my suffering!”
Naritsuhiko glared down at me with contempt. He was always looking down on me. The Yatagarasu always lectured me about my duties as a god. They’d never considered my feelings. Naritsuhiko had never been my ally.
“Don’t look at me like that!”
I unleashed all my power in a fit of rage and so lost myself.
When I returned to myself, I was alone. I sat on the ground against the wall of a cave, shattered.
Then Ōzaru approached me.
“How pitiful… what a dreadful raven, and those women, too.” He looked at me. “You did nothing wrong,” he whispered.
Ōzaru comforted me when there was no one else there.
***
“After that, the Yatagarasu stopped coming. Many women came, but none of them served me sincerely. Until you came, that is,” Tsubaki said, bringing the story to a close.
“That must have been hard.” Shiho now knew how the mountain god had been betrayed. How awful.
“The Yatagarasu ran away because I’m a monster,” the mountain god said.
“Why would you say something like that? You’re not a monster,” Shiho said.
“They wouldn’t have abandoned me if I wasn’t. I’m happy you’re here, Shiho, but Princess Tamayori is dead. She’ll never return to this place.”
“Isn’t it a little early to jump to that conclusion?” Shiho asked. She remembered the woman who’d tried to help her escape. She’d called herself Princess Tamayori. It was possible that Princess Tamayori was still here, but hidden.
Shiho knew from shared memories that Sayo hadn’t stayed away because she wanted to. She was dead, but she was still worried about the mountain god.
“Hey, Tsubaki. Sayo might have had some reason for not coming back. Something that made it so she couldn’t come home.”
“Why do you think that?” Tsubaki asked.
“Because there’s no proof that Sayo betrayed you. You were miserable, but you shouldn’t have let that make you reckless. For your sake, and for the Yatagarasu, and for Sayo, too. If Sayo wanted to return and couldn’t, don’t you think she’d be the most upset of all?”
Tsubaki gave her a pained smile and shook his head. “Spare me your pitying words.”
Shiho didn’t know what else she could say. The sky lightened as the sun rose.
“I hear your grandmother’s funeral will be held in the village,” the mountain god said tonelessly.
“Oh?”
“The raven told me. Your uncle took custody of the body.”
Shiho was the only living family member her grandmother had aside from her estranged son. With Shiho being here, perhaps her uncle had no choice but to take care of her grandmother’s funeral arrangements. Thinking of her grandmother being buried among villagers she hated made Shiho’s heart ache.
“Do you want to go?”
Shiho took a deep breath. “I want to go.”
“Then you should go.” Tsubaki stood up. “If you will come back, I can believe in you and wait here. Go. And return.”
“Thank you, Tsubaki. I will definitely come back.”
Shiho hugged Tsubaki and then left the mountain god’s realm.
***
When Nazukihiko returned to the mountain god’s realm from Yamauchi, neither Shiho nor Masuho no Susuki were there. The mountain god sat on a stone near the spring.
“Shiho went to the village alone?”
“No. Momo and Masuho no Susuki went with her. Masuho no Susuki changed into a raven, so Shiho might not have noticed, but if anything happens, we’ll know almost immediately.”
The mountain god propped his cheek on his palm and looked out at the spring, evoking melancholia.
Nazukihiko thought that the mountain god looked worried, which was new. He wondered why the mountain god hadn’t accompanied Shiho if that was how he felt. Maybe the mountain god wanted to let Shiho go alone because he trusted her and wanted to show it in some way?
The anxious mountain god looked ridiculous—and pitiable. Nazukihiko had never expected to see him this way.
“You could look down at the village from the shrine gate,” Nazukihiko ventured. “Just to make sure everything is all right.”
The mountain god hesitated a little. After a brief moment, he rose to his feet. “All right,” he said gruffly. “I’ll watch over the village from afar. You are not to go down into the village.”
“I understand.”
Nazukihiko accompanied the mountain god as they passed through the stone tunnel that led to the shrine gate. He noticed a figure standing beyond the shrine gate and tensed up.
The silver-haired boy was there. He looked to be in his late teens. A large dog stood at his side, watchful.
The mountain god stopped a few paces away from the shrine gate. “Who are you?”
“I am one who knows of your great foolishness.” The young man narrowed his eyes. “Why did you let Shiho go so easily? I’m disappointed in you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“A hundred years ago, do you know why Sayo never came back?”
The mountain god’s hands twitched.
“You blamed the ravens for shutting themselves away in their world, but it wasn’t only the ravens who were shut away. You were the same.” He shook his head. “You never set foot outside your realm even once. You have no idea what’s been happening around you. Do you think the same thing that happened to Sayo will happen to Shiho?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Sayo didn’t run away. She didn’t abandon you.” He frowned, and it looked painful. “Her corpse is at the bottom of the Dragon Marsh.”
***
“Maybe it would’ve been better to go the long way around, from near Mr. Tanimura’s house,” Shiho muttered to herself.
It had been three months since she’d last been in the human world. She was heading to the village, following the line of the river. She thought she’d been taking the shortest route to her destination, but she wasn’t familiar with the area at all. The path along the river snarled and became too muddy to keep following. She had to take a detour through a thicket. She’d missed the main entrance to the village and was already nearing her uncle’s house.
As she walked, Shiho saw a striped tent through tree branches. At the same time, she caught sight of a girl in a black one-piece dress in the back of her uncle’s house, picking red beauty-of-the-night flowers: Ayaka. She was probably trying to make a bouquet for their grandmother.
Ayaka was also Hisano’s grandchild. It was a shame that they hadn’t met before her death. Shiho wished that Hisano could have been close to her other grandchildren.
Shiho called out, “Ayaka.”
Ayaka jumped and let the flowers she’d been holding fall. Then she screamed. “The sacrifice! It’s come back!”
Shiho stood there, stunned.
Ayaka fled like a startled rabbit.
Shūgo came running over to Shiho. “What?! Why are you here?” Before Shiho could say a word, Shūgo struck Shiho hard across the cheek.
Momo bravely leaped at Shūgo, but he was still a puppy. Shūgo kicked Momo hard, eliciting a pained yelp. The poor puppy went tumbling away.
“Momo!” Shiho reached out her hand.
Shūgo trapped her outstretched hand in his and thrashed her mercilessly. “Damn it, damn it. Why the hell did you come back? Ayaka’s turn is next!”
The adults who had gathered for the funeral came running into the backyard, pointing and shouting.
“Hey, why are you here!?”
“Uncle, this bitch ran back here!” Shūgo kicked Shiho down, pressing his foot down heavily on her lower back to keep her in place. No one showed any concern for Shiho.
“This is bad. This is really bad. This is the worst possible outcome…”
Shiho heard the adults in mourning clothes talking animatedly to one another.
“We’ll have to sacrifice her to the god again. Properly, this time.”
“This is the worst. Back in my father’s day, the sacrifice ran away, and it turned into a huge mess.”
“A huge mess?”
“A landslide happened, and dozens of people died.”
A painful silence fell.
“We can’t just leave things like this.”
“We’ve gotta do something…”
“But what do we do?”
“We have to make the mountain god understand that this isn’t what we wanted.”
“We have to show him that we’re not hiding anything.”
“Right!” One man clapped his hands. “We’ll return the sacrifice to the god.”
“But if we leave her at the shrine, no one will come to fetch her. It’s not a festival.”
“Should we deliver her to the mountain itself?”
“If we step foot on forbidden land, we’ll be cursed! We can’t afford to lose more people.”
“Wait a second,” a different man said. “It’s not harvest time, so the mountain god should have descended into the swamp by now, right?”
“I think so,” another man said. “The god should be in the Dragon Marsh at this time of year.”
Several men exchanged glances. One said, “We’ll return her to the Dragon Marsh. I’m sure that will be fine.”
The villagers were not in their right minds.
“Wait,” Shiho gasped out. “Wait!”
The villagers dragged Shiho along as she shouted at them. Their eyes were crazed. They weren’t angry. They were frightened of the mountain god’s revenge.
“It’s not like I ran away—Tsubaki knows that, too! I promised I’d come back!”
No one listened to what Shiho said.
“Please, you have to let me go!”
Shiho’s uncle grabbed her by the hair and yanked to make her be quiet. They came to the bridge and crossed it. The large chest that Shiho had been placed in before was there, and the villagers shoved her inside it.
“Stop!”
The villagers dropped the chest into the swamp. It sank like a stone with Shiho inside.
Shiho knew then why Sayo had never returned to the mountain god’s realm.
***
“Sayo was murdered. By a trivial misunderstanding of the villagers, who rushed to protect themselves.”
“That’s a lie.” The mountain god couldn’t believe that. He could barely breathe. His head and chest felt like they were melting into sludge.
“It’s not,” the silver-haired young man said. “They didn’t listen to a single word Sayo said. They locked her in a wooden chest and threw her into the Dragon Marsh. The same thing is happening to Shiho right now.”
The mountain god’s thoughts went briefly blank.
Then a small raven alighted on the shrine gate and flew down toward the ground. The raven transformed into Masuho no Susuki, who was out of breath. “Shiho’s in trouble,” she gasped out.
Nazukihiko went pale. “Are you all right?”
“Never mind me.” Masuho no Susuki waved him off. “Shiho is being attacked by the villagers at this very moment! She’ll be killed!” She pointed at the Dragon Marsh.
People swarmed over the Dragon Marsh like agitated ants.
“Shiho!” the mountain god cried out.
Ōzaru let out a low chuckle. “Poor girl. It’s already too late for her.”
The mountain god’s rage erupted, surrounding him in a giant pillar of light.
The Yatagarasu around him stepped back and shielded their eyes.
When Nazukihiko blinked his vision clear, he saw an enormous scaled dragon clad in a crackling layer of lightning that moved around the mountain god like a shroud made of water.
The dragon took flight, the edges of his scales tinged black. The dragon wasn’t flying toward Shiho, but toward the village.
The mountain god had lost himself in rage.
“Mountain god, you mustn’t do this!” Nazukihiko called out. He transformed into a huge raven with three legs and flew after the dragon.
A cyclone of angry air formed in the sky and tore up the ground below as the mountain god streaked toward the village at speed. Lightning crackled in the air, followed by booming thunder. Nazukihiko could barely see or hear through the mountain god’s cloud of wrath.
A bolt of lightning struck the village below, setting houses on fire.
Nazukihiko threaded his way through hazards, more agile than the much larger dragon. He was close to the part of the Dragon Marsh where he’d seen the villagers gathering. He landed, transforming into his human shape in an instant, and started looking for Shiho desperately.
The marsh’s water was agitated; white bubbles broke the surface. Nazukihiko looked into the clear water and saw a wooden chest sinking to the bottom of the marsh. He dove after it, hoping against hope that there was still air inside the chest for Shiho to breathe.
Ten seconds felt like an eternity, but it couldn’t have taken him much longer to catch up to the underwater chest. A rough hemp rope tied the chest shut; he snapped it easily and shoved open the lid. He hugged Shiho’s limp body to him and swam for the surface.
“Shiho! Hang in there!”
Nazukihiko pulled Shiho to shore, looking around himself in a panic. What he saw was something out of a nightmare.
The entire village was on fire. Pillars of flame rose up into the sky, the fire reflected in the waters of the Dragon Marsh. It was morning, but there was no sunlight to be seen: the sky was blotted out by storm clouds rolling in. Lightning flashed above him, and he heard screams.
Some of the villagers had caught fire and were rolling to put out the flames. The flames couldn’t be extinguished like ordinary fire. Several threw themselves into the Dragon Marsh.
A young girl cried out to her mother, but Nazukihiko couldn’t make out most of her words; the storm was far too loud. The dragon appeared in the storm clouds overhead, casting lightning down on anything he saw moving. His silver scales shone in the lightning, the black edges as dark as charcoal. The lightning all around him looked like golden roots connecting him to the ground.
Nazukihiko checked on Shiho. She was still breathing, barely, but she wasn’t moving. He pushed down on her chest, making her sit up suddenly and cough. She vomited dirty water back into the swamp.
“Shiho, are you all right?” Nazukihiko asked as he rubbed her back.
Shiho went pale. “What’s happening?”
“The mountain god learned that the villagers tried to drown you in the Dragon Marsh,” Nazukihiko said.
Shiho had water in her ears; it was hard for her to make out what Nazukihiko was saying. Scanning the churning clouds overhead, she noticed the glimmer of scales, and a sound escaped her throat. “Impossible! That’s a dragon!”
Another flash of lightning cleaved the sky, striking the shrine. The villagers had scattered in chaotic flight. Shiho’s uncle had crumpled to his knees, his gaze vacant as he beheld the village consumed by flames.
Golden eyes emerged from the dark clouds and locked onto her uncle, who remained motionless.
“Tsubaki! No!”
Propelled by instinct, Shiho lunged forward, only to be halted by Nazukihiko’s desperate cry. “Stop!” He grasped Shiho’s kosode sleeve to hold her back.
Shiho shook herself free and ran to her uncle. A blinding whiteness enveloped her as she ran.
Lightning surged downward, a colossal bolt aimed decisively at Shiho’s uncle. Time stood still. Part of Shiho wanted to shut her eyes, but panic kept them open. The air crackled with energy as a tremendous roar enveloped Nazukihiko, shaking the ground beneath him. He fell to earth, powerless to stop what was happening.
And then there was a stillness.
Flames continued their dance among the village’s homes, but the furious bolts of lightning had ceased. The sky was clearing up.
“Shiho?” the mountain god asked. He was in his human form, standing alone amid the carnage. Burned villagers lay around him in heaps. The scene was sickeningly familiar. A parent crouched over their child, trying desperately to shield them. The acrid scent of scorched humanity hung in the air.
“Shiho!” the mountain god bellowed.
Shiho remained silent, unresponsive.
Rain fell, whisper-quiet, as if it was also mourning a loss.
***
“Where’s Shiho?” Junten asked. He’d rushed into the hospital in his mourning clothes. Hisano’s death felt distant compared to the crisis Shiho was facing.
Nazukihiko shook his head.
Several doctors and nurses were hurriedly going in and out of the room where Shiho was.
“Will she make it?”
“I don’t know. She suffered respiratory arrest from electrical shock to the head, severe burns, and damage to her internal organs.” Human medicine could treat Shiho’s injuries, but it wasn’t clear if they could cure them. The mountain god’s burns could likely only be healed by Shiho herself in the mountain god’s realm—if she ever woke up. And if she ever agreed to go back.
“Is there anything we can do for her?” Junten asked quietly.
The rain showed no signs of stopping. A monotonous electronic beep emanated from the machines connected to Shiho’s frail, burned body.
The mountain god knelt by Shiho’s bedside. He was staring at her face, which was covered in gauze and bandages. Crushed by his own helplessness, Tsubaki pressed Shiho’s hand against his forehead. “I’m sorry, Shiho.”
“Why are you apologizing?” Shiho asked, her voice raspy. “I’ll be fine.”
Interpreting the lack of a response from the others as disbelief, Shiho stirred slightly and tried to sit up. “I wasn’t trying to save my uncle or anything. I was just desperate to stop you.”
Shiho had received the brunt of the mountain god’s attack as a result.
“He wouldn’t heal, but I will. I’ll be okay.”
The mountain god felt like he was being torn apart from the inside. “You’re not fine,” he said. “You know that. Why are you pretending you are?”
Shiho smiled and then winced. “Well… I really am okay, because you weren’t trying to kill my uncle. If you were, you would have killed me. But I’m not dead, and I’ll get better soon.”
The mountain god’s face twisted. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” Shiho’s voice was almost all breath, and it was hard to make out.
Shiho understood that her survival was not a miracle. She was alive because the mountain god hadn’t been trying to kill her uncle.
The mountain god tried not to miss a single word she said.
“I think you would have tried to kill him—a few days ago, even. But you didn’t do that. You’ve changed. You’ve grown up. That makes me very happy.”
Tears spilled from the mountain god’s eyes. “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kill him or not. I hesitated.” He knew that Shiho’s uncle had caused this entire mess in the first place. He’d done Shiho harm, and he would probably harm the mountain god if he had the opportunity.
“And you didn’t kill him.”
“Yes.”
Shiho had smiled at him just before the lightning struck. By that point, it had been too late for him to pull back or redirect his attack. He hadn’t known that his intent not to kill would wind up saving Shiho’s life.
“I think he deserved to die,” the mountain god said, “but I also think I shouldn’t be the one to decide things like that.”
“I’m glad you think that way,” Shiho said. She gasped in pain. “I’ll come back to the sacred realm, as promised. I’m glad I can return without fear.” She gave the mountain god a faint smile. “Thank you.”
“Shiho!”
Shiho was asleep, still smiling slightly.
The mountain god knew that she would survive. Looking at her like this, though, horribly burned and unresponsive, it felt too much like she was dead. He couldn’t stand it.
“I should be thanking you,” the mountain god said quietly. The tears wouldn’t stop flowing. Shiho’s kindness was too cruel for him. “Thank you, Shiho.”
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d set foot in the human world before today. Shiho had brought him here—a shrine maiden who’d raised a god. His Princess Tamayori.
“You saved me. I never realized how much until now. Thank you, Princess Tamayori.” He bowed his head. “And goodbye.”
***
The hospital rooftop was full of puddles that glistened like broken mirrors in the relentless downpour. In the distance, various houses and buildings twinkled intermittently, their lights struggling to pierce the heavy darkness brought by the rain. All was quiet and still, but not peaceful.
The mountain god came up to the roof and found the silver-haired young man and his dog. The man’s gaze was fixed on the mountains, so much larger than the toy-like buildings far below. The mountains were veiled in mist, vague outlines against the stormy sky.
“Your mountain seems so small from here,” he said. In the dim light, the glint in his eyes resembled hidden flames, alive and watching. “The village is a spectacular ruin now, so I suppose you don’t need to be there to hear their cries of supplication. You’ve become a malevolent god who attacks his own worshipers in their homes. You know how this story ends.”
“Do I?” the mountain god asked. The young man’s intense gaze made him squirm. “I think you came to save me from becoming such a god. Am I wrong?” he asked. The corners of his mouth twitched upward in a sardonic smile.
The door behind them was flung open with force, and Nazukihiko flew onto the roof. He quickly took human form. “Mountain god, Shiho’s vitals are stable. That means she should wake up soon.”
Nazukihiko noticed the silver-haired young man and closed his mouth. He took a defensive stance, preparing for a fight.
“Stand down, Nazukihiko,” the mountain god said.
Nazukihiko raised an eyebrow.
“He’s here to put an end to my atrocities,” the mountain god said. “And you should let him.”
The young man offered Nazukihiko a faint smile. He tilted his head slightly and then stepped closer. At his feet, a drenched little puppy—Momo—nuzzled against him. The tiny creature trembled, his large, wet eyes glimmering in the rain.
The mountain god bent down and scratched the puppy’s ears affectionately. “Those I have slain were not mere pawns on a game board. They were all my divine servants, including the one most precious to me, Princess Tamayori. I forgot that and descended into indiscriminate bloodshed. I was a monster. I am a monster. I am ready to confront this reality at last.” He sighed. “The hero always vanquishes the monster.”
Nazukihiko remained silent, but he looked frustrated with himself.
The hero let out an exasperated sigh. “So it’s come to this. Are you certain that this is the way you’d like things to go?”
The mountain god nodded. “Shiho must be free of me. I cannot continue to sacrifice women any longer.” His heart was heavy with the memory of all the women who’d suffered because of him. He looked at the ground. “Poor Sayo. I didn’t kill her, but I did worse to her. I dishonored her memory. I am ashamed.”
“That’s not true!” Sayo shouted.
The mountain god looked up, startled.
Sayo was in the clouds, a graceful woman with the beauty of a wildflower and the majesty of a pure white lily. Freckles dusted her nose, and her mouth curved into a pained smile. Her eyes held nothing but adoration for the mountain god. She looked exactly as he remembered.
“Sayo?”
Sayo gasped. “You can see me?”
“Yes, I can see you. Why are you here?”
Sayo had been gone for a hundred years. Why had she returned now?
Sayo sobbed into the sleeve of her robe as she fell from the clouds, landing lightly on the hospital roof like so much mist and dream. “It was I who deceived the shrine maidens, coaxing them to abandon the mountain god’s realm.”
“You—what are you talking about?” the mountain god asked.
Sayo lay face down in a murky puddle, her voice trembling. “I just wanted to go home. I cried out for help, but no one came. My body and soul were trapped in the Dragon Marsh. All I had left was my love for the mountain god. I was always beside you, but you never saw me. Only the women who came to you could see me.”
“Then why didn’t you send me a message through them?!” Even as the weight of his own sins crashed down upon him, the mountain god could not suppress his shout. “I would have believed you. I always wanted to believe you.”
“I was jealous of them.” Sayo wept, her voice raw. “You’d surely come to love a new Princess Tamayori, and I couldn’t stand that. I was the one who loved you most deeply. I was your true Princess Tamayori. And yet…” As Sayo gasped, the air thickened with a foul, rotting smell. “I encouraged the others to escape so that they couldn’t become Princess Tamayori. It was always supposed to be me.”
Unbeknownst to her, something dark oozed forth from Sayo’s eyes—not tears, but a substance resembling mud. Her gaze sharpened, and a trickle of blood flowed from her lips. She was no longer just a wandering soul lost to death; she had transformed into a vengeful spirit.
“I understand that I am no longer your Princess Tamayori,” Sayo said. “Shiho is. I know.”
Sayo had helped Shiho escape, but Shiho had returned of her own free will.
“And then, it was like all was lost… After her return, Shiho couldn’t see or hear me anymore.” A wave of frustration surged within her. She hated Shiho. She wished for her destruction—but she could not surpass her. She didn’t have that power.
In an eerily calm voice, Sayo said, “I crushed the heart of Shiho’s grandmother to compel Shiho to return to the human world.”
The mountain god said nothing.
“It’s frustrating to admit, but I am no longer your Princess Tamayori. But I still wanted you to know what had happened to me. I had no choice but to kill Shiho’s grandmother and recreate the same situation that led to my own death. Everything is my fault.”
There was a silence. The rain fell softly on the rooftop like silk tree blossoms falling to the ground. The world warped around the mountain god. He felt unutterably foolish. All of this must be a nightmare. It couldn’t possibly be real.
But it was real, and he couldn’t run from his mistakes any longer.
“You are not Sayo.” To his surprise, his voice was steady.
Sayo raised her head. “What?”
“I am saying that you are not Sayo.”
The vengeful spirit writhed in agony and let out a shrill scream. “I am Sayo; even now, will you still avert your eyes? Such a terrible woman loved you. I understand that you reject me. I loved you so much that I threw away my former self.”
“It is not just that I reject you,” the mountain god said more firmly. “You are not Sayo. I still love Sayo.”
“Really? Even though I am so hideous now?”
“I did not love Sayo for what she looked like,” the mountain god said. “If Sayo were to return to me now, just as she was, I would be overjoyed. But there is no return from death, not for mortals. No matter how much one may yearn for it.”
Sayo’s vengeful spirit appeared confused.
“You are a part of Sayo—or you were. But you have lost your body and much of your soul to rage and envy. Sayo died because of me, and I am sorry for it.” He stepped forward and took Sayo’s spirit into a cautious embrace.
“Mountain god?” Sayo’s spirit asked.
“Don’t misunderstand me. The living carry resentment and anger just as the dead do. But they also have bodies, and reason, and they can hold kindness and compassion in their hearts. They can rise above their worst instincts.”
Sayo’s body and soul were broken past repair. All that was left of her was the great wrong that had been done to her in her final moments.
“How could I ever believe that a mere shard of a soul, lost and scattered because of me, could be Sayo herself?” His breath hitched. “Can you ever forgive me? It doesn’t matter what you do now, or what you’ve done. My love for Sayo is unwavering. I will always cherish the days I spent with Sayo while she lived.
“But Sayo is dead, and you are not her. You never will be.”
Sayo wept silently into the mountain god’s shoulder.
The mountain god gently caught her tears in his hand.
“I’m truly sorry for not believing that Sayo would return. Alone and sinking in the depths of the Dragon Marsh, she must have been so frightened and lonely.” He shook his head. “Will you forgive me?”
“I forgive you,” Sayo’s spirit whispered as she choked back tears. Her form collapsed and vanished, leaving a single blooming red camellia flower behind.
The flower dropped into a puddle. Petals floated on the water’s surface.
Sayo’s vengeful spirit had disappeared.
***
Nazukihiko held his breath, captivated by the poignant exchange between the remnants of the former shrine maiden and the mountain god.
The mountain god stood still as if he were still cradling the spirit in his arms, but she was gone. His eyes fixed on his hands, now empty, heavy with the absence of her presence.
“Is this the end?” the mountain god asked the silver-haired young man.
The hero’s face showed nothing but anguish. He had to force himself to look up at the mountain god. The large dog sprang to his feet, sensing a shift in the air.
Nazukihiko’s gaze fell upon the gleaming sword hanging from a belt at the hero’s waist, its craftsmanship a testament to valor and history.
The mountain god turned toward the hero, a flicker of hope glinting in his eyes. “What will happen to the Kuisaru?” he asked.
A shadow crossed the hero’s face at the question, his shoulders rising and falling in an exaggerated shrug. “Leave them to me. You’re no longer responsible for anything. I’ll handle what comes next.”
“I see,” the mountain god said, his voice calm. There was nothing else for him to do—except one thing. “Nazukihiko.”
“Yes?”
“I have wronged you deeply.” The mountain god bowed his head.
Nazukihiko had never anticipated this moment—a day when the mountain god would express regret to him. He was proud of Shiho for believing in her son.
“I was at fault, too, and I am truly sorry.” Nazukihiko sank to the ground and prostrated himself.
“No. You have served me well. Thank you for everything.”
Momo’s ears flattened to his head, and he whined.
“Farewell.”
The mountain god smiled at Momo and then turned away so that he was facing the hero. The mountain god and the hero were almost the same height, but they couldn’t be more different. The mountain god appeared world-weary and lost in despair. The hero was a radiant youth, vigorous and strong in his convictions.
The mountain god showed no sign of fear as he spoke his last words: “Take care of Shiho.”
The hero nodded solemnly. “You didn’t need to tell me to do that. I will.”
The mountain god closed his eyes and sighed in relief.
The hero issued a single command to the huge dog: “Go.”
The dog hesitated for only a moment before he leaped ferociously at the mountain god, fangs bared in a fierce display. The dog tore the mountain god to pieces.
Translator's Note
The kosode is a type of Japanese garment, and the direct precursor to the modern kimono. Literally meaning “small sleeves,” the kosode is a T-shaped garment with a distinctive, relatively small sleeve opening. It evolved from earlier, more voluminous robes and eventually became the foundation for the kimono, particularly during the Edo period.
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