Yatagarasu Series
Volume 5:
Princess Tamayori
Author: Abe Chisato
Part 5: A God's Name
“Are you saying that you’re giving up on saving Shiho?” Junten asked.
Nazukihiko shook his head. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. I said we can’t get her back using the same method we tried yesterday. We’ll have to try another way.”
They were at Junten’s house. Almost a full day had passed since Shiho and her grandmother had met at the border of the mountain god’s realm.
Hisano was staying in a guest room in Junten’s house. Her expression was grief-stricken and careworn. She’d spent a sleepless night thinking about everything she had done wrong.
“That’s not true. If we keep going back, I’m sure Shiho will come to her senses eventually,” Hisano said. Her face was very pale.
Nazukihiko shook his head. “We can’t keep going back, or the Kuisaru and the mountain god will discover what we’re doing. Besides, I spoke with Shiho after… everything. She doesn’t want to come back.”
Shiho’s mind could not be easily changed.
***
Shiho took her seat at the dinner table and joked around with Tsubaki. She didn’t tell anyone about meeting her grandmother at the shrine gate. She finished her meal as usual, tidied up, and followed Nazukihiko down a disused tunnel.
“Your grandmother is very worried about you,” Nazukihiko said softly.
Shiho’s eyes widened for a moment. “I see. I’m grateful that she went to all the trouble of finding me, but she didn’t have to. I’m fine. Besides, I can’t leave Tsubaki now. If he hears that I want to go back, he’ll stop listening to me.”
She walked ahead of Nazukihiko to a washroom where she often cleaned after dinner. No one was around, but she kept her voice down as if she feared being overheard.
Nazukihiko tilted his head. Shiho was rarely so cautious or fearful. “I won’t insist that you return to the human world, but I don’t think that’s an unreasonable thing for you to want. You’re human, after all.”
Junten had been surprised at Shiho’s cold refusal to return, but Nazukihiko’s reaction went beyond surprise. Shiho had begged him for help to escape before. Why would she want to stay now? He’d been that certain she’d agree to go back to her grandmother without needing any convincing at all.
Some part of Nazukihiko was glad that Shiho had decided to stay. She was responsible for improving relations between the mountain god and the Yatagarasu. Nazukihiko didn’t want things to return to the way they were before her arrival.
Shiho usually carried herself with confidence and grace. Now she looked like she feared the mountain god’s wrath.
“The mountain god is calm right now,” Nazukihiko said. “What are you so frightened of?”
“He’s calm because I’m here,” Shiho said. “I thought that as long as I stayed here, everything would be fine. But that was a mistake. He’s become dependent on me. Can you tell my grandma to wait a little longer? I’ll figure this out somehow.” Shiho clasped her hands together as if in prayer. “I know I can’t stay here forever. But this is a critical moment for Tsubaki. He’s not secure. He doesn’t believe that he’s truly loved, so he’s anxious. I won’t leave him while he’s like that. If he can believe he’s loved even when I’m absent, I’ll be able to go visit the human world without trouble.”
Shiho sounded like a mother who’d read too many child-rearing books about attachment disorders. She’d subsumed herself into her role. She was the mountain god’s mother, and she was utterly devoted to him. She was a completely different person from the girl Nazukihiko had met when she’d first arrived.
This must be the mountain’s will, Nazukihiko thought. It was hard to find out what Shiho really thought and felt beyond her strange compulsion to act as the mountain god’s mother. Nazukihiko thought about what Hisano had said about her granddaughter.
“You’re a rare individual,” he said. “I worry that you might be too altruistic at times.” Though he was a poor judge of that; he wasn’t able to act selfishly even if he wanted to.
Shiho lowered her eyes. “Grandma said something to you, didn’t she?” She frowned bitterly. “She’s always saying things like that. ‘You’re thoughtless. There are limits to being a do-gooder. If you stay that way, you’ll end up getting hurt someday.’ I hate it when she says things like that.”
“You do?” Nazukihiko asked. “Surely she’s only saying all that because she’s concerned for your safety.”
“That’s probably true,” Shiho agreed, her tone curt. “My father used to tell me the same thing all the time. Protect yourself; think more rationally. They told me I’m thoughtless and naïve. Those are insults dressed up as advice.” Shiho bit her lip in frustration. “They told me I’m stupid for going out of my way to take a loss. I don’t mind not being understood, but being mocked and having other people’s values imposed on me… well, I think that’s inconsiderate and thoughtless, don’t you agree?” She shook her head. “My mother didn’t treat me like I was an idiot, but she’s gone.”
Nazukihiko swallowed his next words. Shiho didn’t know that Yumiko had consulted Hisano about Shiho’s strange behavior.
“Anyway, I thought about it long and hard before I decided to stay,” Shiho said. “I’m not going to go home just because my grandma said so.”
“So you’ll disregard everything she says?”
Shiho frowned. “I feel bad for making her worry. But it can’t be helped.”
Shiho didn’t sound like she felt particularly guilty to Nazukihiko. It was true that she’d decided to remain in the mountain god’s realm of her own free will, which salved his conscience somewhat.
He was disturbed by Shiho’s cold attitude toward her grandmother, which was definitely abnormal.
For the moment, at least, they were all at the mercy of Shiho’s whims and opinions. There was no point in arguing with her about returning to her world.
***
“That’s what she said.” Nazukihiko repeated his conversation with Shiho to Hisano and Junten to the best of his ability. “She has no intention of abandoning the mountain god or leaving the sacred realm. I doubt that will change, no matter what Hisano says to her. We can’t persuade her to leave using ordinary methods.”
Hisano’s expression was stern.
Junten’s eyes fixed on Nazukihiko’s face. “But you said you weren’t giving up,” Junten said. “You must have some other idea to persuade her, right?”
“I do.” He looked around the room. “Before I get into all that… If the boy hero is present with us, please come out.”
Before he could add that he wanted to talk, the boy plopped into existence next to Junten’s desk. “What do you want?” he asked.
Hisano stared in shock at the boy who’d appeared from nowhere.
Nazukihiko and Junten were equally shocked, not by his reappearance but by how he’d changed. The boy had grown. He’d looked to be about ten before, but now he looked closer to fifteen or sixteen years old. His clothes were finer than before, and his pale hair and skin had a healthier color. He frowned at Nazukihiko and tapped his foot.
“It sounds like you barely even tried to convince Shiho to come back,” the boy said. “Yet you have the nerve to summon me, you smug bastard.”
“I’m sorry,” Nazukihiko said reflexively.
“You aren’t,” the boy said. “You had no intention of bringing Shiho back to this world in the first place.”
“Fair enough,” Nazukihiko said. “I won’t deny that I’d prefer it if she remained in the mountain god’s realm for a while, but Shiho is not in a fit state to decide for herself. And she’s not the kind of person who’ll do what we say just because we say it.”
The boy glared. “Then what do you intend to do? If persuading her won’t work, what else is there to try? Are you resolved to die with the mountain god, the servant of a monster?”
Junten gulped.
Nazukihiko didn’t flinch. “That’s a good question. You said before, ‘The longer Shiho stays there and fulfills the mountain god’s requirements, the more of herself she loses. It might already be too late.’ If that’s the case, then why are you waiting for Shiho to ask for help?”
The boy’s frown deepened. “If the sacrifice asks me for help, I will help her. That is the agreement.”
Nazukihiko sat up straighter, eyes shining and hands trembling with excitement. “And she would ask you for help if the mountain god was a monster who terrified her,” he said. “But she hasn’t. Doesn’t that mean he’s not a monster? Or at least not a monster who’s beyond redemption?”
The boy said nothing.
“I don’t follow,” Junten said.
Nazukihiko didn’t take his eyes off the boy as he said, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. It is barbaric to kidnap women, force them to dwell in the mountain god’s realm, and compel them to give birth to and raise the mountain god. Making something you intend to devour play the role of your mother is obscene and unnatural. I do not think that ‘goku’ originally meant ‘sacrifice,’ and I do not think the mountain god used to eat his mother. The ceremony of the mountain god’s rebirth has a different and less twisted origin, and a better purpose.”
The boy remained silent.
“I see,” Junten said, nodding. “Many legends about human sacrifice are stories of shrine maidens who marry their gods. The shrine maiden becomes the god’s wife and, in some legends, the mother of his children. You think the mountain god and his goku come from a similar legend, right?”
“Exactly. The god rages and is purposeless if it is not worshiped. The shrine maiden worships the god and becomes his worldly servant, pacifying that rage. A shrine maiden who neglects religious rites and rituals ceases to be one.
“Consider the women who were devoured as shrine maidens who refused to perform their sacred duties,” Nazukihiko said. “They were no longer perceived as shrine maidens, and so they were devoured, and the mountain god’s rage awakened. He became a man-eating monster.”
Junten nodded. “That also explains Shiho’s extraordinary healing power and her power to soothe the mountain god. She is a shrine maiden performing her duties, so she shares some of the powers of the god.”
“And so the god is no longer a wrathful, man-eating monster, but a god again,” Nazukihiko said. He was still looking at the boy. “I imagine that this turn of events would trouble the hero. There is no need for him to slay the mountain god if he is not a monster, after all.”
The boy remained perfectly still.
“It seems like you want to compel Shiho to ask for your help,” Nazukihiko said. “If she does, then she is a failed shrine maiden and risks being devoured. Then you can save her as the hero. Am I wrong?”
The boy’s lips twitched upward. “For the most part, you are correct. The mountain god was not a man-eating monster to start with. But you’re also missing a few critical points. I don’t want the mountain god to be a monster, and I’m not trying to force him to become one. The fact is that he already is one. There is a great deal of blood on his hands, and I don’t think there’s any way for him to return to his original nature. That is why I want to kill him. It is also why I desire haste. It is easier to kill a monster that looks and behaves like one. He is unstable. There is no telling when he will lose control of himself and harm Shiho, as he has so many others. I want to rescue Shiho before it’s too late.”
“Shiho might not be devoured by him,” Nazukihiko said. “That’s why you can’t attack him right now; he’s changing for the better. Shouldn’t you want him to return to his original form? I think it’s too early to give up on him. Shiho would say the same thing if she were here.”
The boy narrowed his eyes. “You’re sure? You really believe that Shiho would say that?”
“Yes, I do. She’s not trying to fix him, exactly; she doesn’t know what he used to be like. She’s trying to raise a good son. She wants him to be a good and moral person who doesn’t harm others. That might not be the mountain god’s original nature, but I doubt it’s too far off.”
“She’s been brainwashed to want those things,” the boy said.
“Maybe,” Nazukihiko said, “but her feelings are real. She treats the mountain god as her son. She won’t ask for help with things as they are. If you kill the mountain god, you’ll hurt her. Can you really say you saved her in that case? What matters more to you, becoming the new mountain god or saving Shiho?”
“Saving Shiho is the most important thing.” The boy sighed heavily. “All right, fine. I think I get it. Do what you can for her.” He scratched the back of his head roughly and then looked up at Nazukihiko with resentment in his eyes. “But we don’t have a lot of time. There are other things happening on that mountain that we can’t control. I don’t know how that will affect things going forward. Acting blindly won’t resolve the situation to anyone’s satisfaction.” He tapped the top of the desk with his fingertips.
“I agree,” Nazukihiko said. “But what else can we do?”
The boy nodded to himself. “If you really want the mountain god to return to his original form, you must discover his original name.”
Junten’s eyes went wide. “The mountain god has an original name? He isn’t just ‘mountain god?’”
“Of course not,” the boy said. “Before he consumed his first sacrifice, he had a name. That name is the key to his entire existence. He is a persona chained to his past memories. His vessels age and die as mortals do, but he is eternal.” He glanced at Nazukihiko. “Forgetting his name makes him lose his memories. His essential self is no longer intact. He doesn’t know what he is, or what the purpose of all the rituals around him is.”
Nazukihiko sat up straighter. Like the mountain god, the true Golden Raven was an eternal creature that shared memories across vessels.
And like the mountain god, Nazukihiko had lost many of his memories. His predecessor had died a violent death far from home, and the chain of memories was broken. “I was supposed to be born with the memories of my predecessors,” he said.
“And you weren’t, because you’ve forgotten your true name,” the boy said. “The name of a god. If you remember it, your other memories will return to you.” He shrugged. “I don’t expect that to be easy, mind you. Feel free to beat your head against the wall until you’re satisfied. I’m out.”
The boy vanished like smoke.
“He’s gone,” Hisano said, her face blank. “What are we supposed to do?”
Junten settled more deeply into his sofa cushion, removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. “We must find out what the mountain god used to be called before he started devouring goku. If we do that, Shiho will no longer be at risk. Shiho’s task is to raise the mountain god. She is doing her best to return him to his original form in her own way. We can give her the last tool she needs to accomplish that goal.”
“There is a very good chance that the mountain god will release Shiho once she has done her duty,” Nazukihiko said. “Let’s try that.”
***
When Nazukihiko returned to the mountain god’s realm, he found it decorated in an unusual way. Kimonos in peach pink and golden yellow were laid out on the rice mat floor, all embroidered with different patterns. Scattered over them were jade and agate necklaces very similar to those the mountain god had recently begun to wear. Decorative combs and a jeweled crown strung with lapis lazuli beads sat in a black-lacquered box.
“What in the world is this?”
“Nazukihiko!” Shiho called out. She appeared exhausted. Up until now, she’d worn only simple white robes every day, but now she was wearing a kimono made of glossy dark blue fabric embroidered with white chrysanthemums and red folding fans.
“What’s wrong?” Nazukihiko asked.
“I told Masuho no Susuki to bring clothes,” the mountain god said before Shiho could open her mouth. “I cannot have my mother going around in such shabby garments forever.”
“Please tell him, Nazukihiko,” Shiho said. “I don’t need anywhere near this much, but he won’t listen.”
“Do you dislike the clothes? If there is something else you want, then say so,” the mountain god said. He appeared supremely pleased with himself.
Shiho held her head and looked at Masuho no Susuki, who was smiling smugly and wearing an apron.
“Listen, Tsubaki. It’s true that before, there were times I felt I lacked things, but ever since Masuho no Susuki started coming, I’ve had everything I need. Everything else is just luxury and extravagance. It’s wasteful. You think so, too, don’t you, Nazukihiko?”
Nazukihiko compared his cousin’s troubled gaze with the mountain god’s and Shiho’s. “Erm… a little luxury is okay, I think, though it would be best not to get too carried away.” He looked at Shiho’s new kimono and nodded in approval. “The outfit suits you.”
The mountain god appeared quietly satisfied. “It does suit her, doesn’t it? You! Have your cousin bring more clothes. More!”
Shiho shook her head firmly. “No! I already have more than enough, and I won’t need any more for a long while.” She turned toward Masuho no Susuki. “Please take the jewelry and things back with you.”
The mountain god appeared puzzled. “Do you not like them?” he asked.
“I like them, but I never said I wanted to dress myself up,” Shiho said. “If I wore such fine clothes and hairpins, I’d be terrified of staining or breaking them while I was cooking and cleaning.”
“Masuho no Susuki can cook and clean for you,” the mountain god said.
Masuho no Susuki made a face.
“You don’t mean to make her do all the cleaning, do you? That would be cruel,” Shiho said.
The mountain god shrugged. “So we bring in more servants. More Yatagarasu, more Kuisaru, whatever you want.”
“I don’t mind cleaning my fair share,” Shiho said. “You should be able to clean, too. It’s important to be able to do things for yourself. In fact, it’s critical to becoming an independent person.”
The mountain god suddenly looked uneasy. “Shiho, when I grow up, will you leave? Will you abandon me?”
Shiho pressed her lips tightly together and then patted Tsubaki’s head. “Of course not, you little fool. I’ll never abandon you.”
The mountain god clung to her like a frightened child. He’d kept growing, though, and now looked to be around ten years old. “If there is anything you want, say it. I will do anything for you. Please stay here with me forever and ever!”
Before Shiho could say anything, Nazukihiko interjected sharply, “Mountain god. I have a request.”
The mountain god kept hugging Shiho, his face turned away from Nazukihiko. “What is it? You are always so formal and stuffy.”
“I would like to know your name. Your real name, the one your first mother gave you.”
The mountain god and Shiho froze.
“Why do you want to know?” the mountain god asked. He wasn’t offended. He tilted his head curiously.
“It is just something I wanted to ask. Does the question displease you?”
“Not as such. I just have no way of answering it. It’s impossible to tell you. I received that name so long ago that I have completely forgotten it.” He was calm and composed, but he still clung to Shiho’s skirt with one hand.
The mountain god had lost his past memories. The boy hero was right: the mountain god had forgotten his own name.
“Then I apologize for the question,” Nazukihiko said. “You needn’t answer it.” He excused himself.
Shiho followed him, lacking Tsubaki. After they were a fair way down the hallway, she said, “Stop. Why did you ask that question? Are you investigating Tsubaki’s past?”
Nazukihiko hesitated. He reflected that there was probably no harm in telling Shiho what was going on, so he decided to be as honest as he could. “The mountain god did not begin life as a monstrous creature that eats people. That is not his essential nature. If we can learn his original name, we hope he will return to his original form. I think that might save the mountain god from himself and restore his past memories. Do you have any idea what his original name might be?”
Shiho thought for a moment. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Um, it’s strange, but when I first came here, I had dreams—dreams of past mothers of the mountain god, I think. They might be just dreams, but…”
“…but they might be more,” Nazukihiko said.
Shiho nodded. “It’s true that Tsubaki didn’t start out devouring his mothers. I don’t think ‘goku’ means ‘sacrifice,’ exactly. There was some kind of trigger that made him turn on some of his mothers and eat them.” Her face set in grim lines. “In the beginning, it seemed like the women who came here were pleased to serve the mountain god. They chose it.
“Over time, that pleasure and willingness disappeared. One time, there was a woman who loved a man in her village, and by coming here, she lost him and the life she would have had. She was brought here against her will, and she was killed by Ōzaru when she tried to run away with her lover.”
Nazukihiko swallowed heavily. “You think that unwillingness or disobedience causes the mountain god to turn on the women who come here to serve him?”
“Maybe. I don’t know for certain, though.”
Shiho described the woman who’d helped her escape and all of the dreams she could remember. Nazukihiko listened carefully, determined not to miss a single word.
“The woman who helped me escape—and all the other women I dreamed about, too—were called Princess Tamayori. That wasn’t their name, but it was like a title. All of them were called that.”
“Princess Tamayori?”
“Yes.”
Nazukihiko nodded to Shiho.
Shiho spelled “Princess Tamayori” in the air with her finger.
“Thank you. Is there anything else you remember?”
“No. Since I came back here, I stopped having dreams like that.” She looked up at Nazukihiko. “Does any of that help?”
Nazukihiko nodded deeply. “Yes. Very much.”
***
“You said Princess Tamayori?” Junten asked, his voice a bit higher-pitched from excitement. He sat on his sofa with Nazukihiko and Hisano both present.
Hisano was confused. “Who is Princess Tamayori?”
“She is the mother of Emperor Jinmu, regarded as the first emperor of Japan! According to ancient legends, she is the goddess and ancestor of Japan’s imperial family. Wait a second, wait a second!” he said, becoming increasingly animated as he went on. “There’s a connection to the Yatagarasu as well. The Yatagarasu served as Emperor Jinmu’s guides and messengers.” His eyes sparkled; he was warming to his subject.
Nazukihiko shook his head. “Don’t jump to conclusions. We aren’t speaking of an ancient goddess. There have been many Princess Tamayoris over the years; she’s not just one person.”
Junten’s enthusiasm fell flat. “I see. So we answered one question, only to be met with another mystery.”
When Nazukihiko had first come to the human world, he’d looked for connections between the Yatagarasu and humans. He knew about Emperor Jinmu’s history and was able to place Princess Tamayori as a legendary figure. He’d already made the connection to the Yatagarasu. Nothing that Junten had said was new to him.
“Does that mean that there are many goddesses with the same name?” Hisano asked.
Nazukihiko answered with affected seriousness. “Indeed—as countless as the stars.”
“What?”
“The name ‘Princess Tamayori’ is conferred upon women upon whom a divine spirit descends—that is to say, shrine maidens who serve gods. That shrine maiden can be the god’s mother, wife, or daughter. There are many, many goddesses named Princess Tamayori. Shrines to her exist throughout the country.
“When Shiho told me the name, three particular Princess Tamayoris came to mind immediately. First, the mother of Emperor Jinmu. She is supposed to be the daughter of a sea god. Her elder sister, Princess Toyotama, married another god and bore a child who became the founder of Japan’s imperial family. Her husband broke his promise not to look upon her in childbirth, so she was compelled to return to the sea. Her sister, Tamayori, came to raise the child in her place. She later married the child she had raised and gave birth to Emperor Jinmu.
“Next, I thought of Princess Iku Tamayori, the wife of the god Ōmononushi. She was famed for her beauty. One day, a man came to visit her. No one knew who he was. Iku Tamayori secretly attached a needle and thread to his garments. She followed the thread, which led all the way to Mt. Miwa in Yamato. That is how she discovered that the man was the god Ōmononushi in disguise.
“Last, Kamo no Tamayori, the mother of the god Ōyamakui. Her story is also called the Legend of the Red-Painted Arrow. Kamo no Tamayori was bathing in the river one day. She picked up a red arrow and placed it by her pillow. Then she became pregnant, and a child was born. To learn who the father was, the grandfather had the child take a cup of rice wine. He said, ‘Make your father drink this.’ The child broke through the roof and ascended into the sky. The father god is unclear; perhaps a thunder god or a fire god.”
Nazukihiko paused. Then he added, “Emperor Jinmu is a god with deep ties to the Yatagarasu. There are legends where his wife’s mother is said to be Iku Tamayori. There are also stories that say that Kamo no Tamayori was a Yatagarasu — one of the ones that guided Emperor Jinmu in his military campaigns. I believe that Princess Tamayori, in all her forms, is connected to the mountain god’s true name and identity in some way.”
“I don’t understand how there can be so many Princess Tamayoris,” Hisano said, shaking her head.
Junten offered to explain. Nazukihiko nodded assent.
“We are speaking of Shinto gods. In the Shinto tradition, gods are spirits that can divide infinitely into any number of vessels. To divide a god and enshrine it is called bunshi. The divided god is called a bunrei, and the shrine that deifies it is called a bunsha. The original god is called the honrei, and the shrine that deifies the honrei is referred to as the honsha or hongū.
“You often see rituals to summon gods at shrine festivals, right? You might wonder whether the god is usually present in the shrine because of those rituals. But the god is always present in shrines and doesn’t need to be summoned. The rituals are more to gain the god’s notice, not their presence. Those are the broad strokes of how gods are divided into many different vessels or pieces in Shintoism.”
Hisano nodded cautiously. “So you think that the Princess Tamayori that Shiho mentioned is the same as the ones in those legends?”
“It is likely,” Nazukihiko said. “But I’m not sure how much that helps us. The Princess Tamayori legends are independent, but many of them are messily intertwined, as I just laid out. There are ties to the Miwa, Kamo, and Hata families that go back thousands of years. If you look into Princess Tamayori, you’ll find so many stories that you’ll never reach the end of them.
“In addition, gods are troublesome to research and deal with. Even for the same god, different names are attached to each aspect of the spirit’s nature. Each piece of the god can be enshrined as a god in its own right. We have our work cut out for us.
“The souls that gods and humans have are broadly divided into two types according to their nature: the wild and the rational. Ōmononushi, whose name came up earlier, is the wild part of a god called Ōkuninushi, according to some legends.”
“That’s a gross simplification, though,” Junten added. “There’s no way to really determine that Ōmononushi is part of Ōkuninushi.” He glanced briefly at a bookshelf. “It is equally likely that they are different gods with similar preoccupations. People have enshrined many different gods that are similar in nature.
“Nazukihiko is right: this doesn’t help us much. We’re no closer to discovering the mountain god’s true name and identity. We need more information.” He shrugged. “But that’s fine. I don’t think any of us expected this to be easy.” He pulled a backpack toward him and removed a manila folder stuffed with documents.
“These are transaction records,” Junten said, tapping the folder. “Tengu have been trading with the Yatagarasu since 1784.”
“Two hundred and eleven years,” Nazukihiko said.
“That’s right. The transaction records are perfectly clear, but they don’t capture anything that the Yatagarasu said about the mountain god. I pulled them because they’re a place to start.”
As Nazukihiko thought that this was very much like the business-savvy Tengu, Hisano took out a lined notebook from her backpack.
“I don’t really understand difficult things like mythology, so I went to the local history museum and the prefectural library. There was a book published right after the war that compiled various folk tales and religious traditions. I found a story about human sacrifice in the Dragon Marsh. It included details about a raven and a monkey.”
“What is this story?” Nazukihiko asked.
Hisano looked surprised. “You don’t know it?”
Hisano told the tale briefly.
“Once upon a time, there was a long rainy season, and all the crops were ruined. The villagers wanted the sun to come out. As they wallowed in despair, a raven came to speak to them.
“‘If you will give me food, I’ll ask the mountain god to make it sunny.’
“When the villagers did this, the sky cleared up. From then on, whenever they wanted it to be sunny, they asked the raven, the messenger of the mountain god. But after a while, the bird grew too fat to fly and fell into the Dragon Marsh.
“Seeing that, the monkey burst out laughing.
“‘If you’ll give food to me instead of the raven, I’ll ask the mountain god to make it sunny for you.’
“Sure enough, the sky cleared up, so the villagers asked the monkey, the messenger of the mountain god, whenever they wanted it to be sunny. The monkey grew too fat and fell out of a tree.
“Watching that, the raven burst out laughing.
“The raven and the monkey learned that being greedy was not a good thing, and swore to share their duty with one another. And so the villagers began making offerings to both the raven and the monkey whenever they wanted a sunny day.
“That’s the story.”
Junten rubbed his chin. “That’s quite progressive for an old folk tale. No one died a grisly death.”
“I think it means that the mountain god’s messengers are the monkey and the raven,” Hisano said. “They should be working together and not at odds.”
Junten and Nazukihiko considered this carefully.
Junten frowned. “Divine messengers… Come to think of it, isn’t there a shrine where the divine messenger is a monkey?”
“Not that I know of,” Nazukihiko said. “There might be one if we look, but none comes to mind.”
Junten shook his head. “The monkey messenger should be connected to Princess Tamayori for everything to fit neatly together.”
“What?”
“Wait a moment.”
Junten rose from his sofa and removed a thick book from his bookshelf. He flipped through the pages quickly. “A divine messenger that is a monkey… There it is—this!”
Hisano peered at the page over his shoulder. She put on her reading glasses.
“Hiyoshi Taisha Shrine in Shiga Prefecture?”
“The divine messenger of Hiyoshi Taisha Shrine is a monkey called Masaru. There are two main shrines, one in the west and one in the east. Ōnamuchi is enshrined in the western shrine, also known as Ōkuninushi, the god from Ōmiwa Shrine on Mt. Miwa.
“Mt. Miwa, which is connected to the legend of Iku Tamayori.”
“There’s more,” Junten said. “The god of the eastern shrine is much older. His name is Ōyamakui. In some legends, he married Kamo no Tamayori, whose father was a Yatagarasu. Ōyamakui’s name translates to ‘supreme mountain god.’”
There was a brief silence.
“Well, there’s definitely a connection…”
***
After Shiho and Tsubaki had eaten breakfast and finished cleaning up, Nazukihiko said, “I want to speak with the mountain god.”
It was a clear day. The green shade was deep, and cool air flowed beside the pure spring. Momo appeared torn between going to play as usual and staying near Shiho and Tsubaki.
Shiho smiled at the dog. “Wait just a minute and we’ll go play, okay?”
Momo sat down, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.
Shiho stopped in front of a tree and chose a flat stone to sit on. The mountain god sat beside her on the same stone as if he wanted to hug her from behind.
“What do you wish to talk about?” the mountain god asked. “We’re busy. I’d like to go back inside.”
Nazukihiko bowed slightly. “This shouldn’t take long. My people have been looking for your original name.”
“You asked about that before. Does it concern you that much?”
“Yes. You have forgotten your original name as a god. This may be presumptuous of me, but I surmise that this is why your power is unstable. I thought that if I could help, I should.”
The mountain god remained silent.
Shiho lightly tapped the rock beside her. “Tsubaki. This sounds important, so you should sit here next to me.”
“Yes, Mother.”
The mountain god sat down closer to Nazukihiko.
“Did you find out the name?” Shiho asked.
“I believe so. Mountain god, were you once called Kamo Wakeikazuchi?”
“Kamo Wakeikazuchi…” The mountain god didn’t react at all to the name.
“You think it’s that name for some reason, right?” Shiho asked. “What is it?”
“We looked for a god who commanded Yatagarasu and Kuisaru as divine messengers, and for a god whose mother was named Princess Tamayori. Kamo Wakeikazuchi is that god.”
Nazukihiko had spoken with Junten for hours as they’d pored over old books. Junten thought that the rites of Hiyoshi Taisha Shrine were part of the mountain god’s origin story.
“The god Ōyamakui of Hiyoshi Taisha Shrine is said to have married Kamo no Tamayori.”
This was the Legend of the Red-Painted Arrow.
“Three gods are worshiped at Hiyoshi Taisha Shrine: Kamo no Tamayori, who is Ōyamakui’s wife, their son born through a sacred marriage, and Kamo no Tamayori’s father. The name of the son is Kamo Wakeikazuchi.”
Kamo no Tamayori’s father was, according to legend, the progenitor of the Yatagarasu — the first true Golden Raven.
“This is what we’ve been able to find out,” Nazukihiko said. “Kamo Wakeikazuchi was worshiped at Hiyoshi Taisha Shrine. He traveled west to establish a new shrine in the region, accompanied by Yatagarasu, his maternal grandfather’s attendants, and Kuisaru, his father’s attendants. After establishing the branch shrine, a local girl came to conduct the sacred rites as a shrine maiden dedicated to the god. Then the shrine maiden came to bear Kamo Wakeikazuchi within her body, fulfilling the role of Princess Tamayori and becoming the mother of the god.”
The mountain god’s expression didn’t shift. “I see. That is why you thought that Kamo Wakeikazuchi might be who I once was.”
The mountain god sighed, sounding vaguely exasperated. “So what? What I was once called is irrelevant. Now I have the fine name, Tsubaki, given to me by my mother.” He smiled gently at Shiho and then jumped off the stone.
“If that is all, then I am going now. I have promised Masuho no Susuki that I would catch river crabs today.”
The mountain god took Shiho’s hand and said, “Let’s go.”
Nazukihiko called out to stop him. “Please wait! There’s one more thing I wish to say regarding the Kuisaru.”
The mountain god stopped moving. “What about them?” His gaze sharpened on Nazukihiko.
Nazukihiko dropped to his knees. “I believe that the Kuisaru have been trying to worsen relations between you and the Yatagarasu on purpose for a very long time. If we are both divine messengers, serving you from the heart, then there should be no benefit to them in doing such a thing.”
He’d been thinking all along about what Ōzaru’s aim might be.
“If the earlier story is true, then the Yatagarasu are the god’s direct retainers, whereas the Kuisaru have merely been brought here as a divine messenger. The god Ōyamakui, whom the Kuisaru serve directly, is not present here. Perhaps Ōzaru is dissatisfied at being used as a divine messenger while his own god is elsewhere.
“Mountain god. With full awareness of my discourtesy, I must say this. Until Shiho arrived, you were on the verge of becoming a monster.”
The mountain god showed no anger at those words.
“There are legends of monkey gods that devour humans.” Nazukihiko spoke quickly now; he didn’t expect the mountain god to remain silent for much longer. “Though you were not a god who consumed people in the past, you started devouring shrine maidens who were sent to you. Did that happen because you were egged on by Ōzaru? Ōzaru seeks to create discord between us so that we will fall together. He intends to enshrine himself as the new mountain god. That is what I think.”
Shiho appeared perplexed. She looked to Tsubaki.
The mountain god still seemed calm. “Is that all you wish to say?” he asked flatly. His childlike innocence had deserted him. He looked older and a little sad.
“Yes.” Nazukihiko bowed his head.
The mountain god nodded heavily. “I understand well what you are trying to say. Until Shiho came, I lost my true self and became a man-eating monster. It may well be that Ōzaru encouraged this to happen. But you must also know that it was Ōzaru who served me uninterrupted for the past century, while you Yatagarasu locked yourselves away in your own realm. Are you attempting to put on airs or put yourself above my other loyal retainers?”
The mountain god’s cold anger was nothing like his previous violent tantrums. The air around Nazukihiko became heavy and oppressive: difficult to breathe.
“I killed those women because they were at fault,” the mountain god said. “I decided to do it. Ōzaru encouraged it, but the choice was mine.” He looked down his nose at Nazukihiko. “Besides, Ōzaru told me much the same thing: that the Yatagarasu intend to slay me and usurp my place.” His mouth twisted with scorn. “If you did not harbor such ambitions, Ōzaru would have less to slander you with.”
Nazukihiko shook his head. “Please, let me explain. We have never wanted to usurp your place, not ever.”
“But you did intend to harm me, because I was a man-eating monster.”
“Tsubaki.” Nazukihiko’s voice came out like a scream. “In the past, certainly, that was so. But now, we do not harbor any such rebellious intent toward you.”
“Ōzaru could say the same thing.”
Nazukihiko opened his mouth and then closed it.
“To me, it is all the same.”
“But—”
There was nothing else to say.
“Ōzaru continued to support me, even after I declared the Yatagarasu traitors. Now Shiho is here. How long did the Yatagarasu desert me? For how many years? Do you remember?”
Nazukihiko didn’t know how to respond. The mountain god had good reasons to doubt the Yatagarasu.
Shiho tugged at the mountain god’s sleeve to distract him. The mountain god’s sharpness softened. “It is also true that I was not a good lord to you. I will not punish you today, but you must reflect carefully on your past actions.”
Nazukihiko bowed deeply. “I will,” he said, his voice raw.
“Let’s go, Mother.” In the time it took to blink, the mountain god was a child again. He grabbed Shiho by the hand to lead her away. Momo stood up and wagged his tail.
Shiho paused in front of Nazukihiko, still holding the mountain god’s hand. “Thank you for looking into all of this,” Shiho said. “You were trying to help, right?” She smiled a little, her eyebrows drawing in. “I don’t think Tsubaki’s old name is that important, though. His thoughts and feelings now have more weight and substance. We need to focus on Tsubaki as he is, not on who he was before.” She patted Tsubaki gently on the head.
The mountain god nuzzled into Shiho’s hand, appearing pleased. “Shiho is correct. I do not think of the Yatagarasu as hateful, nor do I wish to hate them. But I will not lend an ear to those who set aside their duty and abandoned me for so many years.”
Nazukihiko stared at the ground, silent.
***
Tsubaki frolicked in the ravine with Momo. He started rubbing his eyes and yawning as soon as he finished dinner and went to bed earlier than usual.
Shiho slept in the mountain god’s room now. They’d taken to putting their pillows close together on a futon set up in the back of the room. Shiho lay down and pulled the blankets over them. She patted Tsubaki’s back, humming a half-forgotten lullaby.
Tsubaki fell asleep quickly. His breathing was quiet and even.
Shiho looked around herself, a little surprised by how much this room had changed over the past few weeks. The moon was bright tonight, so she could see everything clearly. Tiger lilies and camellias stood in vases near the windows, their petals shining in the moonlight. Balls, tops, and other toys were neatly piled in the corners of the room.
Momo had discovered a few impressive sticks outside and had brought them in. The puppy curled up at Shiho’s feet and closed his eyes. He’d been chewing on everything lately. He’d wrecked a few of her new kimono hems already in his exuberance.
Suddenly, Momo lifted his head and looked at her. He whined.
“Is the mountain god asleep?” Ōzaru asked. He stood in the room’s entrance. Shiho hadn’t seen him in days.
Shiho glanced at the mountain god. Her hand was still resting gently on his back. “If you have urgent business with him, I can wake him up.”
“No. Leave him be.”
Ōzaru walked toward her.
Momo’s ears went flat to his head. He growled.
Shiho frowned a little. “Momo doesn’t seem to like you.”
“Most dogs don’t like me,” Ōzaru said mildly. “That’s just how it is between monkeys and dogs. No one can change it.”
The other Kuisaru that Shiho had seen gave Momo a wide berth. Ōzaru didn’t seem to be concerned about the dog’s presence.
There was a brief silence.
Shiho realized that she’d never had a private conversation with Ōzaru before this. She hadn’t forgotten the huge ape’s rough treatment of her, or that he’d encouraged the mountain god to eat her. Right now, though, Ōzaru was calm, and the expression on his face was speculative.
“Do you want to take Tsubaki’s place?” Shiho whispered.
Ōzaru took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’re asking me that directly?”
“I’m not a subtle person.”
“I pity the Yatagarasu, then. You must have caused them all kinds of headaches. I’m glad I chose to stay away.” He sounded vaguely amused.
“Tell me the truth. Do you want to become the mountain god?”
“I’m not here to answer your questions.”
Shiho blinked. “So you don’t deny it?”
“Deny what? I wish this mountain to become ours.”
“Is who the mountain belongs to really that important?”
“It is to me. But don’t misunderstand me,” he said harshly. “I swore to be a divine messenger. I have never harmed the mountain god in any way, and I have no intention of harming him now. The women died because they were at fault, and the mountain god himself decided to devour them.”
Shiho wrapped an arm protectively around Tsubaki. “But he didn’t want to kill them. He only wanted to punish them.”
“He wanted to punish them by killing them,” Ōzaru said. “You are too naïve. There was a trigger—something that made him do it.”
Shiho fell silent. Then she asked, “A trigger? What was it? What caused the mountain god to change?”
“That isn’t your concern,” Ōzaru said brusquely.
Shiho rubbed Tsubaki’s back again. “If I persuaded Tsubaki to make you the new mountain god, would you accept the role?”
Ōzaru chuckled nastily. “You say the most amusing things sometimes.”
“I think that Tsubaki is Tsubaki,” she said. “He’s my son, and he doesn’t have to be the mountain god if he doesn’t want to. If there’s a conflict here about who should be the mountain god, I think it would be better to resolve it peacefully.”
Ōzaru’s face set in grim lines. “You may be right. There is nothing to be gained from violence and greed. But I doubt the mountain god is able to relinquish his position, even if he wanted to.” Then he spun on his heel and left.
Momo lay down again and closed his eyes.
Tsubaki slept peacefully, entirely at ease.
Shiho brushed a lock of hair off of Tsubaki’s cheek.
“Shiho?” Tsubaki murmured sleepily.
“It’s me,” Shiho whispered. “Sleep.”
But Tsubaki was fully awake now. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug.
Shiho kept rubbing his back, thinking about what Ōzaru had said. How had Tsubaki gone from a venerable, respectable god to a man-eating monster? The mountain god that Shiho had seen in her dreams seemed essentially good. That god would never devour a person.
So what had caused him to change?
***
“We found his name,” Hisano said. “Doesn’t that mean that Shiho can come back? Why isn’t she here?”
Junten held his head in his hands.
Nazukihiko was silent, his face pale. This outcome wasn’t one he’d anticipated.
“The mountain god remembered nothing? You’re certain?” Junten asked.
“He said, ‘So what,’” Nazukihiko said. “He doesn’t care about his name in the slightest. And he thought I was trying to slander Ōzaru and the Kuisaru. He became angry with me because of what I said.”
“Impossible…” Junten thought that if the mountain god knew his name and his memories returned, something about his consciousness and decision-making would change. Was Kamo Wakeikazuchi the wrong name? He bit his fingernail, lost in thought.
“Sad to hear it,” the silver-haired boy said. He’d appeared out of nowhere next to the desk again. He’d also grown: he appeared to be around sixteen or seventeen now.
“The god’s name as written in old history books is not his true name,” the boy said.
Junten was about to ask what he meant when he figured it out himself. His mouth dropped open.
“There is no such thing as a godless land,” the boy said. “Gods have many names. Kamo Wakeikazuchi was one of the names ascribed to the mountain god, but he wasn’t the original god. Gods can split infinitely, remember? They can also express conflicting aspects and ideas. Their natures are not fixed any more than human personalities are fixed.” He shook his head. “Finding a lost name is impossible.”
A dog barked outside the window.
Hisano’s eyes went wide. The dog outside was enormous. He was a fluffy dog, but he had an intimidating presence.
“As you can see, he’s fully grown,” the boy said. “That means I’m out of time. I wanted to save Shiho, but it’s too late.” He faced the dog. “Don’t blame me for what happens,” he said softly. “I did what I could.” Then he vanished.
“Damn it!” Junten said. “Isn’t there anything else we can do?”
Nazukihiko faced Hisano. “Is there anything else you can remember about your village’s legends? Anything at all?”
Hisano bit her lip.
“Was the mountain god ever called by a name?”
Hisano thought as hard as she could. “The mountain god lives in the Dragon Marsh. The villagers believed that his true form was a dragon. The god is supposed to come down from the mountain in dragon form to bless the rice harvest.”
“Junten, what do you think?”
“The dragon god is associated with rain and thunder, and is widely worshiped across the country as a water god and an agricultural god. But ‘dragon’ isn’t a name.”
Hisano nodded. “Well… what about the reference book?”
“A reference book?”
“Yes. The shrine keeper receives a book about old rituals and legends when it’s their turn to take over shrine duties.”
“That’s it!” Junten leaped to his feet. “Was the ritual prayer written in it?”
“I don’t know. I only caught a brief glimpse of it as it was handed to my neighbors. But it is an old thing, passed down through generations. It’s possible that the mountain god’s name is in there.”
Nazukihiko and Junten exchanged glances.
“We need to get this book and confirm its contents,” Nazukihiko said.
“The villagers won’t show us,” Hisano said.
Junten frowned. Hisano was right. The village didn’t welcome outsiders. He’d visited Sannai exactly once, and no one there had even offered him a cup of tea. The villagers had driven him out of the village with their coldness and cruelty for daring to ask a few questions about their festivals and rituals.
Hisano steeled herself. “The book will be in Shūichi’s house. It’s his turn. We have no time. I will go and get the book now.”
“Get it… Surely you don’t mean to steal it?” Nazukihiko’s eyes widened.
“I was of almost no use in the search for the mountain god’s true name. Please let me do this.”
Junten thought for a moment, then nodded. “Very well. But you won’t go alone. I am coming with you.”
“You?”
“I’m a Tengu. Compared to ordinary humans, I consider myself fairly nimble. If I slip in at night and search, I should be able to find it.”
Hisano shook her head. “The book would be in the attic connected to a corner room on the second floor. That’s where all the festival regalia, altars, and other things are stored. I don’t think they’d keep the book anywhere else. The corner room that leads to the attic belongs to Shūichi’s son, Shūgo. I doubt you’ll be able to get past him.”
Junten nodded. “It’s summer vacation now, and the children are at home. Shūichi also seems to be working from home.”
Waiting for the house to be empty was not a wise plan.
“I can get the family out of the house,” Hisano said. “You can sneak in while they’re gone.”
“How will you get them out of the house?”
“Last time, I went in with a confrontational attitude and was turned away, but if I calmly propose that we talk, they won’t be able to ignore me.”
“Will you be all right? I don’t think that will be easy,” Nazukihiko said.
“If it doesn’t work, I’ll wait for them to leave the house.”
Hisano was resolute: set to her course.
Junten nodded. “We have a plan. We need to act before that boy hero does.”
Hisano was determined to get Shiho back no matter what it cost her.
***
“I’ll say it again,” Shūichi said with a composed expression. “I don’t know where Shiho is.”
Shūichi was a spineless coward. The nerve of him, sacrificing his own niece to a monster.
Hisano swallowed down her urge to curse him out. Shūichi was still the cheeky boy she remembered in some ways. It pained her to hate him. He looked like any other middle-aged man on the street. There was nothing in his appearance to suggest that he’d acted so abominably toward Shiho.
As Hisano spoke to her son, she felt a vague sadness and emptiness. She hadn’t wanted things to turn out this way.
“I’m sorry I barged in so suddenly the other day,” Hisano said. “I came to talk. Just talk.”
Shūichi’s expression shifted. He appeared relieved. His wife stood at his shoulder, not quite hostile but certainly suspicious. A little girl—probably Ayaka—hovered behind them.
Where was Shūgo?
Hisano hadn’t asked how Junten intended to break into the house. She guessed that Junten would be watching Shūgo’s room from outside.
“I’d like to talk to you all,” Hisano said. “We’ve lost a lot of time. I’d like to greet my grandchildren properly after all this time. I made a reservation at a restaurant in the village; we can all go together.”
Shūichi smirked. “So Shiho ran away from you, and now you want to dote on your other grandchildren?” He chuckled.
“It’s not like that. Of course I’d like to get along with my family. There are so many things that I want to say to you all.”
“That may be so, but I have no desire or reason to talk to you at all. I don’t want to hear any of your excuses. If you came here to beg for money, go somewhere else.”
“I don’t want to make excuses, and I don’t need a single yen from you. I just wanted to catch up—to find out what my only son has been doing for the past thirty-seven years.”
Shūichi’s face twisted.
This visit had been a long shot from the start. Hisano fully expected Shūichi to slam the door in her face. The fact that he hadn’t done that so far was encouraging.
Shūichi’s wife glanced sidelong at him. “I think we should go inside.”
Shūichi shook himself. “I don’t want to talk to you about anything,” he said to Hisano. “Don’t ever come here again.”
He didn’t sound angry. He spoke calmly, but firmly, much as Shiho had the other day. Shūichi was Shiho’s uncle, after all. He was also her son, now close to fifty years old.
“Go home.”
“Wait. Please—I’m begging you.”
Shūichi was pulling the door shut. He paused.
“Shūichi, I did something terrible to you. And I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry I left you here without me.”
Shūichi froze. Then he shoved the door he had been about to close open with a bang.
“What’s the point of saying that now?!” he roared. “You don’t understand a damn thing. Not about me, and not about my life! I was ten, and you left me! Don’t you have a heart? You thought I would just go with you, sight unseen, leaving everything I ever knew behind? You didn’t even try to explain anything to me! And then you took Yumiko, and you were gone. You didn’t contact us, not even once. You threw me away. Why should I ever want to speak to you ever again?!”
“I’m sorry,” Hisano said. “It’s my fault.”
“It’s too late to apologize,” Shūichi said, his shoulders slumping as he lowered his head. He wasn’t crying, but he was sulking much as he had when he’d been a little child. Hisano recognized that expression on his face.
“Shūichi,” she tried to say, her voice coming from a dry throat. A bright flash of white crossed her field of vision. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest. She didn’t understand what was happening to her. It felt like her heart was being crushed in someone’s hand.
“Mom?”
Shūichi noticed something was wrong. He had an unguarded look on his face.
Hisano wanted to say something to him, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t breathe. Her chest ached. Her limbs were cold. The edges of her vision turned black.
“Hisano, hold on!”
That voice—could it be Junten?
Someone was running to her, but before they could reach her, Hisano collapsed in a heap.
What is happening to me?
Hisano heard angry voices.
“Call an ambulance, quickly!”
The last thing Hisano saw was red blood leaking from her eyes.
It was four o’clock in the afternoon. Bright red flowers bloomed in the garden outside Shūichi’s house.
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