Yatagarasu Series
Volume 6:
The Raven's Flourishing
Author: Abe Chisato
Part 4: Loss
The moon hung low in the sky late in the evening. Natsuka sat cross-legged on a cushion, bathed in serene moonlight that spilled into the room through a small window.
He had not seen the moon for almost six months. The sight of it now made him long for peace and an end to Yamauchi’s long days of suffering. The first earthquake half a year ago had been devastating. Those that followed were like salt being poured on an open wound.
Natsuka was the head priest of Clear Mirror Temple, one of the great temples of Yamauchi. He’d come to Ōtaki Falls to perform ritual purification before the autumn’s harvest festival. The waterfall was visible through his window.
Yamauchi’s weather had improved recently, but the prolonged darkness of the summer season had ruined most of the year’s crops. Famine loomed large. Clear Mirror Temple sat on the upper slopes of the mountain that housed the Imperial Court in Souke Territory, far from the Palace Above the Clouds. The temple welcomed all visitors regardless of their rank and served as a conduit between common people and the members of the Imperial Court. Petitioners who had no one to intercede for them came to Clear Mirror Temple, and Natsuka passed their requests to Nazukihiko.
After the earthquake, Clear Mirror Temple had become a refugee camp. Most evacuees had moved to the Palace Above the Clouds already, but desperate farmers came to petition for aid daily. Natsuka’s duty was to convey their needs to Nazukihiko and pray to the mountain god for better harvests. He was supposed to spend tonight in ritual purification before Ōtaki Falls, chanting prayers until dawn.
But Natsuka didn’t believe in the mountain god anymore. The monster had cursed his brother and nearly destroyed Yamauchi. Praying to the mountain god now would be idiotic.
Natsuka’s guards stood a little ways away from the waterfall. None of them would be able to tell if he was sincerely praying or not. He was considering retiring for the evening when he heard a knock on his door.
“Who is it?” Natsuka called.
“It’s me,” Nazukihiko said.
Natsuka got to his feet and went to open the door. “Nazukihiko? What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to talk to you,” Nazukihiko said. “Just the two of us.” He glanced at the untouched purification robes hanging by the window. “You weren’t praying, were you?”
Natsuka winced.
Nazukihiko lifted a bottle of rice wine off a low table. “I want a drink. How about you?”
They sat on the ritual platform below the window. Natsuka brought over another cushion for Nazukihiko to sit on. The full moon shone like polished jade above the waterfall. Mist rose from below, catching the moonlight like gauze. A bright rainbow arced through the spray.
“It’s a beautiful night,” Nazukihiko said.
“It is.” Natsuka poured rice wine into his brother’s cup. The waterfall’s roar rumbled pleasantly. Cool air blew across their faces. Time seemed to slow down.
Rokon stood at a distance, visible but unobtrusive. The brothers were as alone as they could be.
Natsuka couldn’t remember the last time they’d talked like this.
“How are things in the mountain god’s realm?” Natsuka asked.
“Better. Masuho no Susuki is handling everything very well. I’m summoned much less frequently now.”
Masuho no Susuki had been living in the mountain god’s realm for weeks. Her presence there—and the mountain god’s healing of Sumio—had changed everything. When Nazukihiko had backed out of his plan to kill the mountain god, Natsuka had thought that his brother had lost his mind. But sunlight had returned to Yamauchi. There were no more tears in the sky, and there had been no more earthquakes.
If Nazukihiko was right, the mountain god was returning to his original shape and personality. He was no longer a monster. The Yatagarasu might not have to go to war with the Kuisaru.
“You made the right call,” Natsuka said. “As expected of the true Golden Raven.”
Nazukihiko’s eyebrows drew together. “Did I?”
“What?”
“I don’t believe in myself anymore.” Nazukihiko stared at his cup. “Not like I used to.”
Natsuka frowned. His brother looked troubled despite his lighter burdens.
“When I was young and in Yamauchi, I always knew what to do,” Nazukihiko said quietly. “Put the Imperial Court in order. Mend the tears in reality. Act decisively. Everything I did benefited Yamauchi. The moment I left Yamauchi, I stopped understanding anything.” He gulped down his rice wine. “When I left to study abroad as a child, I didn’t realize how much I’d relied on that clarity of purpose. Being in Yamauchi grounds me. I failed at things sometimes when I wasn’t here, but the consequences of those failures only affected me. Now…” He gestured vaguely. “If I make the wrong choice, the Yatagarasu will perish.”
“You haven’t made any wrong choices,” Natsuka said.
“Haven’t I?” Nazukihiko’s voice was barely audible over the roar of the waterfall. “I don’t have the memories of previous true Golden Ravens. I was supposed to be born with them—memories from every true Golden Raven since the beginning of our race. But I have nothing. That’s why the White Raven and the priests weren’t sure I was a true Golden Raven at all.”
Natsuka knew the lack of previous memories tormented his brother, but hearing him say it aloud made that ache more real and urgent. It was an important problem to be solved, but so far, that problem had no solution.
“Without those memories, I can’t be certain of anything I’m doing,” Nazukihiko said. “I’m afraid.”
The words hung in the air between them. Natsuka remembered his brother as he’d been when they were children—small and frail and sick, before he’d grown into the beautiful and terrible leader of Yamauchi.
“So what if you don’t have the memories?” Natsuka asked. “You’ve made better choices than anyone else could have. You’re not powerless. Believe in yourself.”
Nazukihiko’s expression didn’t change. He stared at the waterfall.
“Brother, what do you think the true Golden Raven is?” Nazukihiko asked.
Natsuka’s encouraging words died in his throat. “What?”
“I think the true Golden Raven was originally like the mountain god,” Nazukihiko said. “An eternal being that inherits power and memories.”
He faced Natsuka squarely. “The mountain god forgot he was the mountain god and became a monster. I lost my predecessors’ memories. What if I forget who I am, too? What if I’m already changing into something else and I can’t tell?”
Natsuka had no answer to that question. What could he say? He was just an ordinary Yatagarasu.
“I need my name,” Nazukihiko said.
“Your name?”
“My true name. The mountain god needs his true name, too.” Nazukihiko set down his cup. “Both the mountain god and the true Golden Raven change their bodies, but not their minds. Names are like anchors. They let you know whose memories you carry. And without a name… you lose yourself. The mountain god and I both forgot our original names. That’s why we have no memories. If we can recover our names, the memories should return.”
“How will you recover your name?”
“The Tengu are helping us search.” Nazukihiko frowned. “But we’re running out of time. A hero has appeared in the human world.”
“A hero?” Natsuka asked. “Who?”
“A god who slays monsters,” Nazukihiko said flatly. “He came to kill the mountain god.”
Natsuka’s hand froze halfway to his cup.
“When a monster threatens humans, a hero appears to destroy it,” Nazukihiko explained. “This hero sensed the mountain god’s corruption and came to kill him. He told me about the names—he said that’s how we can recover our memories. As long as the mountain god resists performing monstrous acts, the hero can’t kill him. But if the mountain god reverts back to his monstrous form, the hero will kill him whether we want him to or not.”
Nazukihiko sighed. “The hero doesn’t care about the Yatagarasu. And the mountain god has ruled Mt. Ara since the beginning of his existence. If he’s killed and replaced, his sacred realm could collapse. We don’t know what that would do to Yamauchi. We have to save the mountain god and keep the hero from killing him.”
Natsuka stared at his brother. Nazukihiko had clearly made some kind of grim decision, but Natsuka couldn’t grasp what it was. He grimaced. “I’m not sure I understand.”
Nazukihiko smiled slightly. “Sorry. I just… wanted you to know. If something strange happens in Yamauchi while I’m away, it’s probably because of something happening in the mountain god’s realm. The mountain god’s realm and Yamauchi are closely connected.”
The way he said this made it sound like he might go to the mountain god’s realm and not come back.
“What do you expect me to do?” Natsuka asked.
“I don’t know. Forgive me.” Nazukihiko looked away. “I can’t show weakness to my guards or attendants. But I’m not sure of myself. Someone should know.”
“I suppose,” Natsuka said.
Yukiya and the Yamauchishu couldn’t help with finding the names of gods or missing memories. Yukiya was especially unsuited to such tasks—he cared about immediate, tangible threats and nothing else. If Nazukihiko voiced his insecurities to him, Yukiya would probably just say, “Work the problem. You’ll find some way to fix it.”
Natsuka tapped his chin. He was acting as his brother’s sounding board. Maybe that was all Nazukihiko needed at the moment.
They drank in silence for a short while.
“Natsuka,” Nazukihiko said after finishing another cup of rice wine. “When you were a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?”
Natsuka blinked. “What?”
“Just tell me. Don’t think too hard about the question.”
“I never thought about it,” Natsuka said. “I was born a Souke noble. If I’d been born to commoners in the capital, I would have become a merchant. If I’d been born poor in the provinces, I would have become a farmer. I’m content with my life as it is. The circumstances of my birth gave me a limited number of paths to pursue.”
Nazukihiko nodded slowly, looking satisfied.
“Why did you ask me that?” Natsuka asked uncomfortably.
Nazukihiko laughed. “Hamayū asks me questions like that all the time.”
“The Princess of Sakura Palace?”
“Yes. She asks what I like to eat, what makes me happy, all these trivial things,” Nazukihiko said. “At first, I answered her just like you answered me. I didn’t understand why she cared. But after a while, I started to seriously consider my answers.”
Natsuka couldn’t imagine the true Golden Raven and his wife having such mundane conversations.
“What did you want to be when you were a child?” Natsuka asked.
“I wanted to be a chef,” Nazukihiko said.
Natsuka choked on his rice wine. “What?”
“A chef,” Nazukihiko repeated. “When I was in the human world, I made all my own meals. I enjoyed that.”
“You—the leader of all the Yatagarasu—wanted to be a chef?” Natsuka asked.
“Is there something wrong with that?” Nazukihiko asked. “People love food. Preparing it is a noble profession.”
Natsuka was at a loss for words.
The waterfall roared: the only sound in the stillness of the night. Natsuka stared at his empty cup for a long time as he mulled over what his brother had told him.
A chill went up Natsuka’s spine as he understood. “You don’t want to be a true Golden Raven, do you?” he asked quietly.
“It’s not like it’s painful or anything. But watching Yatagarasu die because of me—that hurts. A leader’s job is deciding how to kill people efficiently,” Nazukihiko said tonelessly. “The true Golden Raven’s duty is no different, except I can’t kill people directly. I’m supposed to love everyone equally, and at the same time I have to choose who lives and who dies. The contradiction feels pointless to me. What am I supposed to be? What am I?”
Natsuka felt like he’d been bludgeoned on the head. “I had no idea you thought that way,” he said.
“You never asked,” Nazukihiko said simply.
Natsuka stared at his brother. Nazukihiko was kinder and more sensitive than him. He might be the least suitable kind of person to be a true Golden Raven.
“It should have been me,” Natsuka said. “Not you.” People had said that to him countless times. Court officials thought Nazukihiko’s way of thinking was too simple; too soft. They’d whispered that Natsuka should rule instead. Natsuka had never believed them—his grandfather had taught him better—but now he wondered.
Nazukihiko nodded as if Natsuka had just commented on the weather. “Maybe. But I was the one born as the true Golden Raven.”
“Yes,” Natsuka said. There was nothing else he could say.
“Thank you for listening.” Nazukihiko stood up. His hair fluttered in the night wind. His pale skin glowed in the moonlight. His eyes expressed determination and resignation in equal measure.
He was beautiful.
He was wretched.
Natsuka couldn’t remember his brother ever confiding in him to this extent before… and Natsuka had offered him nothing useful. He might have made things worse.
He wanted to call out to his brother’s retreating back, “If you want to stop being the true Golden Raven, you can. You can be a chef if you want.”
But he didn’t say that. He couldn’t. It would be a lie.
Natsuka stood frozen as Nazukihiko mounted his horse and rode away with several Yamauchishu.
“Astonishing,” Rokon said as he approached Natsuka. “I thought him nothing but a dull automaton. I never knew he had a personality. How interesting.”
“Why did you think he was dull?” Natsuka asked, knowing he probably wouldn’t like the answer.
“Because he’s predictable,” Rokon said. “He makes precise, bloodless choices. Like a clockwork doll. Some people admire that, but I find it boring.”
Natsuka clenched his fists.
“But he’s finally developed an ego.” Rokon grinned. “That’s fascinating. Like watching a toy come to life.”
“Wait,” Natsuka said slowly. “You’re saying my brother is deviating from his past decision-making?”
“That’s one way to put it.” Rokon looked delighted at Natsuka’s distress. “Whether that’s good for you and Yamauchi is a different question.”
“Of course it’s not good—” Natsuka stopped speaking mid-sentence.
Rokon’s grin widened. “Are you an ally of the true Golden Raven, or an ally of your younger brother? Those aren’t the same thing.”
Natsuka said nothing.
“My brother is the true Golden Raven,” he said. “That’s everything.”
“Oh?” Rokon asked. “We’ll see who’s right in the end.”
The words stung. Natsuka glared at him. “I will make sure that things turn out for the best for everyone.”
“Sure you will. I think we disagree on what ‘best’ looks like.”
***
After the earthquake, the Yamauchishu had held a meeting to determine military policy in Yamauchi while it was in a state of emergency. Every renowned strategist and tactician in Yamauchi had been invited.
One man’s opinions had conflicted with Yukiya’s. He’d been isolated and confined to quarters afterward.
“We should speak with him,” Rokon said to Natsuka several days after their last meeting. “He might tell us what the other strategists are really thinking. Aside from Yukiya, I mean.”
“Can’t we just ask Nazukihiko directly?” Natsuka asked.
Rokon raised his eyebrows. “If Nazukihiko knows everything, sure.”
“Are you saying there are military and strategic matters that Nazukihiko isn’t aware of?” Natsuka asked.
“Who can say?” Rokon shrugged. “But looking at matters in capital now from a bird’s eye view, I can guess what that man said. He must have infuriated the other strategists to get himself thrown out and confined to quarters. But that doesn’t mean he’s not worth listening to.”
Rokon had tried to see the prisoner himself, but the guards wouldn’t budge even when Rokon made demands in Prince Natsuka’s name. “Let’s rely on your influence with your brother,” Rokon said. “He’ll let you see the prisoner.” He grinned.
“Who is this man?” Natsuka asked.
“You know him. Until recently, he was acclaimed as Yamauchi’s greatest strategist. Now he’s no better than a mangy dog. Yukiya humiliated him when he was still a cadet at the Keisōin.”
“What’s his name?”
Rokon smiled beatifically. “Suikan.”
***
“What the hell did you come here for, you bastard?!” the former Instructor Suikan fumed. A full teacup sailed at Rokon’s head.
Rokon batted the teacup aside. The cup shattered on the earthen floor, spreading a black stain across the ground.
“You’re as lively as ever,” Rokon said with a cackle. “Though right now, you look like a stray dog caught causing trouble at the market.”
“Get out!” Suikan shouted back through widely spaced iron bars.
Suikan’s confinement to quarters hadn’t landed him in prison, but in a hermitage where criminal priests were housed before being brought to judgment. Suikan’s robes were very fine and he had a large writing desk, a proper bed, and clean rice mat flooring. The windows were covered with decorative iron lattices to prevent his escape.
He was being treated like a noble prisoner.
“Calm down,” Rokon said. “I didn’t come alone.”
Suikan snarled and looked past Rokon. When he saw Natsuka frozen in the doorway, he snorted. “Ah. The Crown Prince’s good friend is here, I see. What business could you possibly have with me?”
Natsuka took an involuntary step back. Was this man always so ill-mannered? He’d met Suikan once when he’d visited the Keisōin. Back then, Suikan had shown him courtesy and politeness, as befitted his rank and education. Had losing to Yukiya broken him this badly?
Rokon sneered. “This man was rotten from the start—his birth, his upbringing, his speech, his personality, all of it is flawed.” He laughed cheerfully. “He’s always treated me like this.”
Then Rokon’s smile flashed off. He narrowed his eyes. “You picked a fight with Yukiya again. And you got crushed again, didn’t you? Why don’t you ever learn from your mistakes? Yukiya is General Genya’s grandson, the strategy instructor at the Keisōin, and the Crown Prince’s specially appointed military strategist. Why couldn’t you keep your mouth shut?” He leaned forward. “You really are an idiot. Almost admirably so. Charging straight in and throwing everything you have in life straight into the gutter—how humiliating that must have been for you.”
The color drained from Suikan’s face. His expression went cold and flat. “I’m used to humiliation,” he said quietly. “Besides, someone had to oppose Yukiya’s plans.”
Natsuka stepped forward. “Why did you oppose them? What did you disagree on?”
“Defense policy,” Suikan said. He sounded bored. “Setting aside the earthquakes and rents in the sky, I insisted that we should abandon Souke Territory because of the risk of a Kuisaru invasion.” He pursed his lips. “But by the time I joined the discussion, a consensus had already been reached. Others probably agreed with me, but no one dared defy General Genya, or Yukiya by proxy. They insisted that Souke Territory would not be fully evacuated. They said the imperial family would not permit it.”
Natsuka stared. “You’re speaking like it would be easy to evacuate Souke Territory. It wouldn’t be. The transfer of the Imperial Court to the Palace Above the Clouds was recently completed. Tears in the earth and sky are spreading to the territories, too. There’s nowhere for us to run.”
“Idiot,” Suikan spat. “You don’t do a lot of thinking before you speak, do you? There is no escape from the tears in the earth and sky, but the Kuisaru are another matter. Their only invasion routes to Yamauchi are in Souke Territory.” He stood before a window, the lattice’s shadows forming a complicated pattern on his face. He folded his arms. “It is common sense to move away from clear and present danger. Keeping so many Yatagarasu directly in the path of a potential Kuisaru invasion is sheer lunacy. We must disperse our people to the other territories if we wish to survive. Your failure to grasp these simple concepts does you no credit. I pity your underlings in Clear Mirror Temple.”
His tone was that of a teacher lecturing a slow student. Natsuka had never been treated with such disrespect in his life.
“Yukiya and General Genya are fully aware of the danger that the Kuisaru pose to us,” Natsuka shot back. “That’s why they built a fortress at the Palace Above the Clouds and had women, children, and important people evacuate there!”
“That was the worst possible move, to my way of thinking,” Suikan said flatly. “And to that brat, the best possible move. We were never going to agree.” He gave Natsuka a scornful glance. “You benefit from this strategy; I can see that. But the Yatagarasu as a whole do not.”
“What does that mean?” Natsuka asked.
Rokon nodded thoughtfully. “I see. So that’s how it is.”
Suikan raised an eyebrow. “So you know? Perhaps you’re not as hopeless as the man you serve.”
Natsuka had been left behind. “What do you mean by that?” Natsuka asked in an imperious tone.
“The Crown Prince doesn’t know, so I won’t be letting them tell you,” Yukiya said lightly from behind Natsuka.
Natsuka spun and saw Yukiya in the doorway, his silhouette wreathed in moonlight.
“You vile wretch,” Suikan spat in Yukiya’s direction.
Yukiya smiled and took a step forward, out of the doorway. “What are you up to, Prince Natsuka?” he asked. “Skulking around and talking to military prisoners in the middle of the night… do you want people to think you’re plotting something?”
Natsuka said nothing.
Yukiya’s smile widened. “I don’t know what that armchair general over there has been whispering in your ear, but I won’t do anything that would put Yamauchi in unnecessary danger.”
“So he says,” Suikan muttered.
Yukiya ignored him. “Hm. Maybe you should know this, Prince Natsuka. I suspect that you’ll understand my reasoning.” He gestured behind him, through the open door. “Come with me.”
Natsuka and Rokon followed Yukiya into the hallway. Haruma and several Yamauchishu stood in a long line, waiting for Yukiya.
Natsuka was led to a room that Yukiya used to prepare for the classes he taught at the Keisōin. Yukiya’s fellow Imperial Guards followed him and Natsuka there, but they waited outside the room along with Rokon.
Yukiya told Natsuka the reason he hadn’t insisted on evacuating Souke Territory.
Natsuka understood, but he was outraged. “What would Nazukihiko say if he knew this?” he asked with tightly controlled fury.
“Good question,” Yukiya said. “But you won’t tell him, for the same reason I haven’t told him. The true Golden Raven does what’s best for all of the Yatagarasu. You don’t want to tell him something that will lead to him making rash, emotional decisions, do you?”
Natsuka’s next words died in his throat. Yukiya was right. Natsuka thought about what Nazukihiko had told him at the waterfall—about the contradiction that the true Golden Raven had to live out if he was going to lead effectively. Nazukihiko could not kill anyone with his own hands, but his responsibilities meant that he often had to choose who lived and who died. He couldn’t kill, but he needed to appoint executioners.
“The true Golden Raven has already made his decision by entrusting military matters to me,” Yukiya said. He moved behind Natsuka and gently patted both his shoulders. “You should understand what that means, Prince Natsuka.”
Yukiya peered into Natsuka’s face. There were smooth, crescent-shaped shadows under his eyes like a cat’s claws.
There was deception and contradiction in the existence of the true Golden Raven. Nazukihiko had entrusted military matters to Yukiya because he trusted Yukiya’s decisions. There were some choices that the true Golden Raven simply couldn’t make.
Natsuka glanced sideways at Yukiya. Yukiya had come to the Imperial Court with the intention of abandoning his first post as soon as possible. He hadn’t started out loyal to Nazukihiko; that had come later. Natsuka had welcomed Yukiya as an ally because of his family connection to the Lord of Hokke, but Nazukihiko hadn’t cared much about that. He’d valued Yukiya for his mind and his determination. He’d said many times that he only wanted willing service. When Yukiya had resigned as his personal attendant, Nazukihiko had allowed it.
Nazukihiko might have known he would need someone to make the decisions that he could not. Natsuka suspected that Yukiya had Nazukihiko’s blessing for what he was doing, even if Nazukihiko didn’t know all the details.
“I understand that swallowing this secret is difficult,” Yukiya said quietly, his voice like poisoned honey. “But you’ll keep it, because protecting the true Golden Raven is more important than anything else. Am I wrong?”
Yukiya stared intently at Natsuka and waited for his answer.
Natsuka understood that Yukiya was playing a dangerous game. He believed himself to be in control of all the moving pieces, but that confidence was an illusion. No one could predict or control everything.
Right now, though, what Yukiya was asking him to do made sense. He grunted in assent and looked away.
Yukiya’s smile was triumphant. “Thank you, Prince Natsuka. I knew you would understand.”
Natsuka closed his eyes. You vile wretch, he thought.
Suikan had said that to Yukiya.
He wasn’t wrong.
***
Masuho no Susuki’s life in the mountain god’s realm was more peaceful than she’d expected.
Shiho called the mountain god Tsubaki. Apparently, tsubaki was the name of a flower in the human world. Shiho was an ordinary human girl, but she’d gained mysterious powers while living in the mountain god’s realm. Nazukihiko said this was because she’d willingly accepted the role of the mountain god’s mother.
As time passed, Shiho learned the Yatagarasu language and became able to communicate in simple ways. It became clear that she wasn’t being threatened or coerced. She loved Tsubaki sincerely and treated him as her own child.
Once, Shiho’s grandmother had come to the red shrine gate at the border of the mountain god’s realm to take her home. Masuho no Susuki had feared that Shiho might abandon Tsubaki and leave. But Shiho had flatly refused to go home.
Shiho occupied her days with domestic tasks, cooking and cleaning in the mountain god’s realm. She expected the mountain god to assist her with these tasks and took great delight in teaching him. She was a kind girl, and Masuho no Susuki grew fond of her.
Tsubaki was unfailingly polite toward Masuho no Susuki. A white puppy that Shiho had brought from the human realm accompanied him everywhere. The puppy was called Momo, and Tsubaki doted on him.
There were brief moments when Masuho no Susuki forgot that the little boy with the puppy had murdered six Yatagarasu and maimed Sumio.
Tsubaki sometimes displayed godlike selfishness, but it was easy to think of him as just a child. He wasn’t impossible to understand. There had to be some reason he’d come to hate the Yatagarasu enough to kill them.
Masuho no Susuki considered the stories she’d heard of the mountain god in Yamauchi. If those stories were right, then the Yatagarasu had come to Yamauchi with the mountain god long ago. The mountain god had blessed the Yatagarasu once, but then something had changed.
Was it possible for the mountain god to revert to his former state? To be a god that gave blessings to the Yatagarasu instead of curses?
Masuho no Susuki didn’t know. She did her best to help Shiho raise the mountain god to be a kind and polite boy.
She was permitted to visit Yamauchi for supplies, so she went back and forth between Yamauchi and the mountain god’s realm fairly often. She learned that the rules around transformation were different in the mountain god’s realm.
The Yatagarasu possessed two forms: a large three-legged raven shape and a human shape. Transformation required a great deal of energy and focus. In Yamauchi, the Yatagarasu borrowed the sun’s power and could only transform during the day.
Leaving Yamauchi through a tear in reality reduced the Yatagarasu to small two-legged ravens that couldn’t transform into anything else, ever. A Yatagarasu who left through the Gate of the Vermilion Bird could remain in human form regardless of whether it was day or night, and they could take raven form at any time.
The mountain god’s realm was similar to the Tengu market that sprawled beyond the Gate of the Vermilion Bird. Yatagarasu could assume their human shapes there, and they could take raven form at any time. A handful of times, Masuho no Susuki had stepped beyond the shrine gate to figure out if she’d be able to transform in the human world at night as well… but she couldn’t. The second she stepped beyond the shrine gate, she became a small raven with three legs, and she wasn’t able to transform into her human shape at all. When she entered the mountain god’s realm at night, she took human form immediately.
Masuho no Susuki told Nazukihiko her findings; he nodded thoughtfully. Apparently true Golden Ravens had no restrictions on where or when they could transform, so he found her observations genuinely interesting.
Recently, Nazukihiko had been working with the Tengu to search for the mountain god’s original name. They hadn’t found it yet, but there were a lot of people doing research on it.
“How is Shiho?” Nazukihiko asked one evening after the mountain god and Shiho were in bed. They often talked to one another at night, relating the events of the day.
“Already sleeping, I think,” Masuho no Susuki said. She invited Nazukihiko to sit on a smooth stone in her small bedroom. He looked exhausted; she passed him a glass of water and pestered him until he drank it.
Nazukihiko was running himself ragged in his search for the mountain god’s name. He’d spent days combing through books from the human world that contained legends of ancient gods.
“What have you found out?” Masuho no Susuki asked.
“It seems that Shiho has been having strange dreams since she came here to become the mountain god’s mother.”
“Oh?”
“In her dreams, the mountain god’s mother is called Princess Tamayori.”
“Princess Tamayori?” Masuho no Susuki asked.
“It is the name of a goddess. Or rather, it describes her essential nature. In the human world, Princess Tamayori is the deification of a shrine maiden. Since she’s usually a god’s wife or mother in legends, she’s revered as a goddess of childbearing and motherhood.”
Masuho no Susuki nodded. That made sense to her. The mountain god’s mother would be a goddess, and Shiho needed to swear to be his mother because Princess Tamayori was a goddess of motherhood.
“Princess Tamayori can be a generic term to describe a certain type of goddess, or it can be the name of a specific goddess,” Nazukihiko said. “We’re investigating Kamo no Tamayori at the moment. She might be the mountain god’s mother.”
“How do you know?”
“We don’t, but her story seems right. Her story is called the Legend of the Red-Painted Arrow. Kamo no Tamayori was bathing in the river one day when 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.”
Masuho no Susuki nodded. “Why does her story seem right? I don’t understand.”
“Kamo no Tamayori’s father might have been a Yatagarasu. According to one legend, the god who transformed into the red-painted arrow is sanctified and worshiped at Hiyoshi Taisha Shrine. Kamo no Tamayori is also enshrined there, along with her father.” He paused and then added, “According to the same legend, the divine messenger of Hiyoshi Taisha Shrine is a monkey called Masaru. The Tengu believe that the shrine on Mt. Ara is an offshoot of Hiyoshi Taisha Shrine.
“We know that something terrible happened a century ago—that’s why my predecessor sealed the Forbidden Gate. Whatever happened, we know that the mountain god lost his true name as a result. Ōzaru, his divine messenger, became violent, and the Yatagarasu fled to Yamauchi.”
Masuho no Susuki tilted her head. “So Tsubaki is the son of Kamo no Tamayori? What is that god’s name?”
“Kamo Wakeikazuchi. That’s what Junten thinks.”
“And the original name of the true Golden Raven is Kamo no Tamayori’s father? What’s that?”
“Kamo Taketsunumi.” Nazukihiko’s voice grew softer, lacking confidence. “That’s what Junten said, anyway.”
Masuho no Susuki’s eyebrows drew together. “If you know his name… have your memories returned? Do you remember the lives of previous true Golden Ravens?”
Nazukihiko said nothing in reply.
Judging by his expression, his memories hadn’t returned.
Masuho no Susuki didn’t conceal her skepticism. “Are you certain that those names are correct?” She didn’t understand how true names and gods worked, but she assumed that knowing a god’s true name would have some effect.
Nazukihiko flinched. “To be honest, I don’t really know. I intend to tell the mountain god and gauge his reaction tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Why are you in such a rush?” Masuho no Susuki asked. “Has something happened?”
Nazukihiko gave her a pensive look.
“There’s no point in hiding your plans from me,” Masuho no Susuki said. “If you’re going to do something, then you should tell me so that I can prepare myself.”
He nodded. “That’s true.” He listened for Kuisaru and then said, “The hero who kills monsters is already on this mountain.”
“The hero who kills monsters?”
“The mountain god and the Kuisaru devoured people on this mountain. A hero has appeared to exterminate them.” Nazukihiko sighed. “That’s why I’m in such a hurry.”
If the mountain god couldn’t recall his past memories—and quickly—Tsubaki might be killed by the hero.
“What does this hero think he’s doing?” Masuho no Susuki asked, folding her arms. “Tsubaki isn’t a monster!”
“Indeed. Thanks to you and Shiho, Tsubaki is regaining his power as the mountain god, but his existence is not complete. He is missing something. Perhaps his original name—or perhaps something else. While he remains incomplete, there is a possibility that he will become monstrous again. That is why I wish to tell him his original name as soon as possible.”
Masuho no Susuki rested her chin in her hands. She doubted that knowing the mountain god’s original name would change anything.
***
The next morning, Nazukihiko told Tsubaki his original name.
The mountain god’s reaction was not encouraging.
Masuho no Susuki considered what Nazukihiko had told her while preparing the noon meal with Shiho.
“That’s not what you expected, is it?” Shiho asked in the Yatagarasu language.
Masuho no Susuki raised an eyebrow. “You speak our language, Shiho?”
“Just a little. I want to talk to you all more.” Shiho smiled. “Learning the name didn’t change anything. Nazukihiko expected it to, didn’t he? How troublesome.”
“I think so, too,” Masuho no Susuki said. She didn’t think the research that Nazukihiko was conducting with the Tengu was important.
Shiho smiled. “We really do get along well. A name is nothing—just sounds used to identify something. The sound is not enough. Identity is an awareness of who and what a person is.” She shook her head. “Ōzaru, the Kuisaru, and the Tengu don’t seem to understand that.”
Masuho no Susuki felt a faint sense of unease. Shiho was helping to cook with her like she always did, but she’d never spoken so much in the Yatagarasu language before. When had she become so fluent?
“Shiho. When, exactly, did you learn our language?”
Shiho lifted her face from the cutting board and tilted her head in blank puzzlement. She smiled and then shook her head.
***
Not long after that, Tsubaki and Shiho went to play in a stream near the sacred spring. Ōzaru came to the spring to report something. He spoke in the language of the human world, so Masuho no Susuki couldn’t understand what he said.
Whatever Ōzaru had said made Shiho very upset. Shiho started arguing with Tsubaki.
Masuho no Susuki had no way to intervene. She could only watch as Tsubaki’s enraged face gradually transformed into something grotesque. Vitality drained from his eyes. His small, even teeth remained except for the canines, which stretched out and sharpened. Countless wrinkles marred his smooth face until he looked like a wizened monkey—or an old man. His lustrous silver hair dulled to a dark gray. Each strand danced wildly around his face like an enraged serpent.
Tsubaki had become a monster again.
Masuho no Susuki backed away, hugging herself in terror.
Nazukihiko was trying to calm Tsubaki, but the mountain god’s anger didn’t subside. In the end, he ordered Ōzaru to take Shiho away.
Momo chased after them. The mountain god himself also departed, leaving only Masuho no Susuki and Nazukihiko behind.
“What can we do?” Masuho no Susuki cried out. “Shiho will be killed by Ōzaru!”
“Don’t panic. He was ordered to keep her confined, not to kill her.” Nazukihiko sounded bitter.
It was a beautiful day, sunny and cool. A few minutes ago, Shiho and Tsubaki had been splashing one another happily in the stream. What had happened? Masuho no Susuki wanted to cry.
“Why?” Masuho no Susuki asked.
“Shiho’s grandmother has collapsed,” Nazukihiko said. “She’s in the hospital. She could die.”
Masuho no Susuki gasped.
Shiho’s grandmother had come from the human world to take Shiho back once. Shiho had bluntly refused to go with her, but Shiho’s grandmother hadn’t left the area. According to Nazukihiko, she’d been staying at Junten’s house in the human world for the past few weeks.
“Ōzaru told Shiho that her grandmother was in critical condition. Shiho asked Tsubaki if she could visit her grandmother in the hospital. Tsubaki suspected she might not return if she went. He refused—that’s why he was angry.”
Masuho no Susuki shook her head in confusion. “Shiho loves the mountain god. She would definitely come back.”
“I think you’re right, but we’re not the ones Shiho needs to convince of that.”
Masuho no Susuki shuddered as she remembered the mountain god’s monstrous form. “What will you do now?”
“It’s still too soon to give up. I’ll try speaking with Tsubaki after he’s calmed down. He might listen to me. It’s worth trying,” Nazukihiko said.
Masuho no Susuki thought about Nazukihiko’s search for the mountain god’s original name—and his own. That search had been pointless. The mountain god knew his original name, and he’d still become a monster again. The mountain god’s monstrousness had only gotten better after Shiho started treating him as her child—with kindness, and with gentle guidance.
Nazukihiko seemed to realize now that knowing any god’s true name wouldn’t accomplish anything. It wouldn’t make the mountain god—or himself—whole.
“I’ll leave Tsubaki to you, then,” Masuho no Susuki said. “I’ll go check on Shiho and make sure she’s all right.”
“Ōzaru will be there,” Nazukihiko said. “Are you sure you want to go?”
“I must. Shiho could get sick or injured. She needs blankets, at the very least.”
Nazukihiko appeared uncertain. “The mountain god’s realm is unstable right now. Be very, very careful.”
***
Masuho no Susuki went back to her room and gathered blankets and warm clothes for Shiho, including a quilt that Nazukihiko had brought in from the human world. Then she asked the guards where Shiho was being held.
Reaching the rocky cave where Shiho was confined proved to be quite an ordeal. There were Kuisaru everywhere in the tunnels, and not all of them were willing to speak to her. She asked for directions more than once, but most of the Kuisaru answered her with blank stares.
If Shiho was in a place that the Yamauchishu or Nazukihiko couldn’t enter, Masuho no Susuki might not be able to find her.
Masuho no Susuki spent some time lost in the tunnels until Shiho’s sobbing alerted her to the girl’s presence. Several Kuisaru guards barred Masuho no Susuki’s way, preventing her from seeing Shiho.
“I’m not going to break her out or anything,” Masuho no Susuki said. “She needs blankets. It’s cold. Please give her these blankets and clothes, at least.”
The Kuisaru glared at her threateningly.
“Who is there?” Ōzaru asked from behind Masuho no Susuki.
Masuho no Susuki made herself stand up straight. She didn’t want Ōzaru to see her fear. She turned to face Ōzaru and said, “I have brought warm clothing and blankets for Shiho. Shiho is a human girl; the cold could kill her or make her sick.”
Ōzaru didn’t move. Water dripped from the tunnel’s ceiling. This part of the cave system was dim; a single oil lamp set in the hollow of a rock wall provided the slightest bit of illumination for Shiho’s Kuisaru guards.
Masuho no Susuki expected Ōzaru to tell her to leave, but he surprised her.
Ōzaru snorted. “Very well. You may give Shiho blankets.”
“Really?”
“You are alone, correct? I will permit you to see her. No one else.”
Masuho no Susuki frowned slightly. Ōzaru wasn’t acting like an enemy right now. Come to think of it, he’d never harmed Shiho directly that she’d seen. He wasn’t kind, but he wasn’t monstrous like the mountain god.
Was Ōzaru more reasonable when Nazukihiko wasn’t present? Why?
“I am in your debt,” she said.
Ōzaru waved dismissively at the Kuisaru guards, who parted for her. The door was latticed and could not be opened from the inside. The floor and walls were cold and uneven.
Masuho no Susuki slipped her hand through the latticed doorway and pushed blankets and garments through the holes for Shiho, who was sobbing with her face buried in her knees.
***
After Shiho cried herself to sleep, Masuho no Susuki left.
Her destination was Tsubaki’s room. Had the Crown Prince managed to talk things through with Tsubaki? She was anxious, but the sacred realm was quiet. She chose to take that as a good sign.
When Masuho no Susuki peeked into Tsubaki’s room, she saw him sitting there, no longer monstrous. Nazukihiko sat before him, but they were not speaking.
“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. “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 daily. 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 and he didn’t receive nearly as many offerings as before. His sacred rites could not be conducted in the ways he was used to.
“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 the Touke, Nanke, Saike, and Hokke Territories. 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?
“How odd. 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.
“A century ago, I cast aside our sacred duty to the mountain god and sealed the Forbidden Gate shut.” Nazukihiko took a shuddering breath and then covered his face with his hands.
“Isn’t it a good thing that your memories have returned?” Masuho no Susuki asked.
“Perhaps.” He frowned and stared into empty space. “I remember serving the mountain god. But then… he killed us, and I couldn’t let that happen again. And then it did.”
Naritsuhiko had witnessed the mountain god murder his people. He’d sealed the Forbidden Gate shut so that such a tragedy would never happen again. Nazukihiko had already repeated at least one of his ancestor’s mistakes.
Nazukihiko lifted his head, wide-eyed. “No.”
“Your Imperial Highness?” Masuho no Susuki asked.
“No!” He shook his head vigorously. “I don’t remember everything. I’m not complete. I can only remember what happened after the mountain god killed the Yatagarasu who were with Naritsuhiko.”
Nazukihiko clearly remembered sealing the Forbidden Gate, and why.
He remembered nothing else.
“I was aware that the mountain god once possessed great power, and that we came to this realm in obedience to his command. I knew that Yamauchi itself existed to serve the mountain god. Even so, I weighed the mountain god’s crimes and the lives of the Yatagarasu against each other, and I chose to protect my people.” He closed his eyes. “I remember who I used to be, but I can’t recall how I first came here, or what I was called then!”
“Your Imperial Highness, please calm down,” Masuho no Susuki said.
Nazukihiko’s fingers bit into his scalp and remained there. “Why? Why, after coming all this way, can I not remember anything that matters?!”
The feeling of incompleteness did not leave him for a moment. He felt like someone far away was whispering to him that this wasn’t the end yet. It wasn’t time for him to remember.
“What am I?” he asked, the picture of despair.
Masuho no Susuki didn’t say another word.
***
As the sky paled in the early morning light, Tsubaki returned. Nazukihiko had gone back to Yamauchi, so only Masuho no Susuki was present to greet him.
“I am sorry I worried you,” Tsubaki said. “Everything is all right now.”
Something had shifted overnight. Tsubaki was much calmer today, though he didn’t say why. His visit with Shiho must have done him some good.
Tsubaki told Masuho no Susuki that Shiho had gone alone to the human world. Tsubaki had allowed Shiho to return to Sannai Village to bid her grandmother a final farewell. The only companion that Shiho had taken with her was Momo the puppy.
Masuho no Susuki was alarmed. The human world wasn’t safe, was it? “Tsubaki, may I also go to the human world to keep an eye on Shiho? I shall return with her.”
“Yes, you may.”
After obtaining Tsubaki’s permission, Masuho no Susuki hurriedly transformed and took flight. The moment she passed over the red shrine gate, she felt her entire body being tightly squeezed. She was shrinking to tiny raven size.
The air of the outside world was heavy. It was very difficult to fly, but since Shiho was traveling on foot, she caught up quickly. She flew above Shiho in slow circles and tried not to draw any attention to herself.
Shiho entered a forest from a narrow path; Masuho no Susuki briefly lost track of her. She maneuvered into the trees, hopping from branch to branch until she found Shiho again.
Momo stayed near Shiho. He seemed to be enjoying the adventure they were on.
The puppy suddenly stopped and raised his head.
There was a girl in black clothes standing beyond the trees. She was young; perhaps seven or eight years old. Her hair was tied in two ponytails: one on each side of her head. She held a bouquet of red beauty-of-the-night flowers in one hand.
Masuho no Susuki had never seen any humans aside from Shiho. She was fascinated by the girl’s appearance. She looked so much like a Yatagarasu in human form. She hid behind leaves and watched, wondering if the girl was someone that Shiho knew.
Then the girl shouted something to a much older boy who came running over to her. The boy struck Shiho!
Masuho no Susuki was too shocked to make a sound.
The girl kept shouting. More people gathered around Shiho. Shiho made placating gestures and spoke calmly in her language, but it didn’t seem like anyone was listening to her.
Momo barked and bit at the threatening humans, but those humans kicked him and hit him until he whimpered.
Masuho no Susuki almost sprang out to defend Shiho, but she wasn’t a brave Yatagarasu warrior. She was just a little three-legged raven in the human world. She had to call for help.
Leaving the trees, she flew back to the mountain god’s realm as fast as she could.
Why would they hurt Shiho? She couldn’t understand that at all.
Masuho no Susuki was desperate. Would the humans kill Shiho? She hoped not. She had to hurry.
Tsubaki and Nazukihiko stood at the red shrine gate, along with someone that Masuho no Susuki didn’t recognize.
Masuho no Susuki passed over the gate and tumbled to the ground. She took human form almost immediately and gasped out, “Shiho’s in trouble!”
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.
Masuho no Susuki screamed and fell to the ground. Blinded by the light, she curled up and clutched her head. The first thing she saw after her eyes recovered was an enormous scaled dragon clad in a crackling layer of lightning that moved around the beast 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.
To Masuho no Susuki on the ground, it looked like the sky had caught fire.
A bolt of lightning struck the village below, followed by others in rapid succession. Masuho no Susuki’s ears hurt from all the rumbling thunder; she covered them and closed her eyes.
She should have chased after Nazukihiko and the dragon… but what could she do as a tiny raven? She’d only get herself killed in this terrifying storm.
“Good,” Ōzaru said cheerfully. “That meddlesome nuisance is gone.”
Masuho no Susuki heard him clearly over the roar of the wind. She opened her eyes and looked at him.
Ōzaru bared his teeth at her in a horrendous smile. Was this the same creature who had shown Shiho pity? It seemed impossible.
“Wait for it,” Ōzaru said. “It’s almost time.”
Before Masuho no Susuki could ask what that meant, Kuisaru exited the caves, their yellow eyes fixed on her. Drool dripped down their chins.
“Huh? W-What?” Masuho no Susuki shrank back in terror.
Ōzaru narrowed his eyes. “Eat her,” he commanded.
The Kuisaru dropped to all fours and lunged at her. Their shrill cries pierced Masuho no Susuki’s eardrums, louder than the thunder rumbling in the village below.
Masuho no Susuki screamed and tried to flee, but the Kuisaru were much faster.
“Stop it!” Her feet tangled in her dress, and she fell.
I’m going to die. The thought made her strangely calm. If there was nothing she could do to save herself, then there was no point in worrying.
Then a black shadow cut between the Kuisaru and her.
“Fly!” Chihaya called out to her. He was in his feather robe.
The Kuisaru flinched at the sight of his sword, but they didn’t stay back for long. One of the larger Kuisaru approached, carrying a club.
Chihaya dodged the slow weapon and told Masuho no Susuki irritably, “Fly! Hurry!”
Masuho no Susuki transformed at almost the same time as Chihaya. Chihaya threw his sword sharply at a Kuisaru’s head with his third leg and then took to the air.
As Masuho no Susuki flew, she realized that Chihaya had been using his sword. It hadn’t melted! The mountain god was allowing the Yatagarasu to use weapons!
The Kuisaru below stared up at the flying Yatagarasu with vexed expressions.
Chihaya and Masuho no Susuki entered the human world, becoming small ravens in mid-flight. The storm winds made flying hazardous; Chihaya waited until they were out of sight of the shrine gate and then gestured at a place to land with his wings. Masuho no Susuki followed closely after him. They alighted on a boulder in the Dragon Marsh next to a shallow lake.
Black clouds swirled overhead. Masuho no Susuki saw the silver dragon coiled in the clouds. There was no sign of Nazukihiko anywhere.
“Let the Crown Prince take care of the dragon,” Chihaya said. He was still a tiny raven, but Masuho no Susuki could understand him clearly.
Masuho no Susuki nodded.
She didn’t know what had happened, but Tsubaki had become a dragon, and the mountain god’s realm had been invaded by hostile Kuisaru. She and Chihaya wouldn’t be able to get back to Yamauchi through the Forbidden Gate until the Kuisaru were dealt with. They could re-enter Yamauchi through the Gate of the Vermilion Bird, but neither of them knew where that was.
“Do you know where Junten’s house is?” Chihaya asked.
Masuho no Susuki nodded again. “Why were you there?”
“Your younger brother asked me to keep an eye on you. The Crown Prince and Sumio both insisted that you be protected.” He looked up at the sky. “Lead me to Junten’s house. He should be able to get us to the Gate of the Vermilion Bird.”
They took off, flying as low as possible across the lake. Junten’s house wasn’t in the village. Masuho no Susuki saw burning buildings in the distance, but the Tengu’s home was untouched.
“Hey!” Chihaya shouted and flew toward the window of the house. A short, middle-aged man peered outside with a grim look on his face.
Chihaya flew straight at his face and pecked fiercely at the window.
The short man opened the window. He counted the legs on the two small ravens. “Are you allies of Nazukihiko?” he asked in the Yatagarasu language. He had only a slight accent.
Masuho no Susuki nodded and said, “Yes.” She wasn’t sure if the Tengu would be able to understand her in raven form. She and Chihaya could communicate, but talking to Junten might be difficult.
“Do you want me to open the Gate of the Vermilion Bird for you?” Junten asked.
Chihaya nodded this time.
The Tengu led the two ravens to a larger building. He operated a strange lever, and then a wall moved away on its own. While Chihaya and Masuho no Susuki marveled at the strange power of the Tengu, a dark cave appeared on the other side of the vanishing wall.
Lights flashed on, revealing a long hallway. A metal contraption on rails stood to one side. Chihaya darted into the tunnel so fast that Masuho no Susuki lost track of him. She flew into the tunnel cautiously, very aware of her need to practice flying more.
Chihaya perched on the metal contraption. Masuho no Susuki landed near him. Junten jumped inside it. “Shall we go together by cart?” he asked.
Chihaya nodded.
Junten offered Masuho no Susuki his shoulder to cling to. “It can be a bumpy ride,” he explained.
Masuho no Susuki climbed up onto his shoulder gratefully and held on.
Junten did something to make the metal contraption move, and then they were off. The cart moved very fast: much faster than Masuho no Susuki could fly.
Before long, they suddenly emerged into an open space. The air changed, and her body felt lighter. When the cart stopped, she jumped down from the Tengu’s shoulder and returned to her human form. They were here—the market on the other side of the Gate of the Vermilion Bird. She’d never been here before, but there was no time to see the sights.
Masuho no Susuki and Chihaya returned to Yamauchi. By the time they arrived, the Palace Above the Clouds was in an uproar.
“An incident has occurred in the mountain god’s realm!”
“The Kuisaru are on the move!”
“Contact General Genya and strategist Yukiya!”
Messengers flew to and fro throughout the temple complex, shouting and waving. Chihaya took raven form and flew off somewhere, leaving Masuho no Susuki behind.
Yamauchishu noticed Masuho no Susuki standing next to Junten and came over to her. “Duchess Masuho no Susuki?” one Imperial Guard asked. “Where is His Imperial Highness?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“The King of the Tengu brought you here,” the guard insisted.
“I don’t know, either,” Junten said. “He left the mountain god’s realm and went into the human world. We can’t contact him now. I sent out messengers to find him, but we might not receive word for a while.”
The Yamauchishu nodded sharply. “Masuho no Susuki, you know more about the mountain god’s realm than most. Report to strategist Yukiya and inform him of what you saw.”
The guards escorted Masuho no Susuki to a horse. More guards would accompany her on horseback to Yukiya’s headquarters. She thought she’d be flying to the Keisōin, but the guards guided her to Clear Mirror Temple instead.
Masuho no Susuki landed in the carriage yard outside Clear Mirror Temple with her escort. Chihaya had made it here ahead of her; he was standing in the carriage yard and talking to Yukiya, Akeru, Natsuka, and Rokon.
Akeru noticed her first and ran to her side. “Sister! Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” Masuho no Susuki said. She started shaking all over. Now that she was safe, she remembered just how close she’d come to death. If Chihaya hadn’t been there…
Masuho no Susuki shook her head clear. She had to focus. It was obvious that the Kuisaru had been planning to invade for quite some time. They had tried to kill her; they would probably attack Yamauchi soon if they hadn’t already.
“I heard that His Imperial Highness is in the human world,” Yukiya said. “Is that true?”
“He chased after the mountain god, who created a terrible thunderstorm,” Masuho no Susuki said. “But the mountain god did not harm His Imperial Highness, nor does he want to.”
Akeru sighed in relief. “Hopefully he’ll be all right. We must leave the mountain god to His Imperial Highness for the moment. None of us are placed to assist him. We’re powerless in the human world.”
“It might be better for His Imperial Highness to remain in the human world for a bit,” Yukiya said glumly.
Masuho no Susuki frowned slightly. What did that mean?
Clear Mirror Temple was eerily quiet after all the hustle and bustle inside the Gate of the Vermilion Bird. Ordinary soldiers had pitched tents on the edges of the carriage yard; many of them were shouting orders to one another, but the space around Yukiya was relatively calm. It hardly seemed like Yamauchi was dealing with an emergency. Akeru was the only one who’d shifted from his place to greet her.
It seemed like Yukiya was waiting.
For what?
“If I’m not needed here, I’ll return to Shion Temple,” Masuho no Susuki said. She wanted to inform Hamayū and the others of the situation.
Akeru shook his head firmly. “No, Masuho no Susuki. Please stay here with us, where it’s safe.”
Masuho no Susuki was about to protest when a shrill sound made her wince.
“They’re here,” Yukiya said.
A soldier beat a large war drum beside a pitched tent. The heavy drumbeats reverberated throughout the temple complex.
From the direction of the mountaintop, Masuho no Susuki caught sight of a mounted figure flying toward them at tremendous speed.
As soldiers swarmed around him, Yukiya said, “Well, then. Let’s begin.”
***
The green light of the emergency exit reflected on the linoleum floor. Nazukihiko thought that the artificial light was a lot like natural light from this angle. Like moonlight on water.
He was in a hospital in the human world. Shiho had her own room in the burn ward. Doctors and nurses came and went as Nazukihiko stood in the hallway, dazed.
Hurried footsteps drew his attention.
“Where’s Shiho?” Junten asked. He was out of breath and wearing black mourning clothes. He’d gone to the village today to arrange the funeral of Hisano, Shiho’s grandmother.
Hisano’s death felt like a distant thing: something that had happened a long time ago, though it was very recent. So much had happened since then.
The villagers had misunderstood Shiho’s actions. They’d believed that she’d found some way to escape from the mountain god’s realm. Fearing punishment, the villagers had attempted to sacrifice Shiho to the mountain god by drowning her in the Dragon Marsh. Their actions were motivated by self-preservation.
Tsubaki had rained down lightning and fire on Sannai Village in retaliation.
Shiho had tried to stop the mountain god from raging. She’d gotten caught in the crossfire; the mountain god hadn’t meant to hurt her. One of Tsubaki’s lightning strikes had burned her severely. She was still unconscious; it wasn’t clear yet if she would live. Nazukihiko had flown her here as fast as possible, but it might be too late to save her.
“Will she make it?”
“I don’t know. She suffered respiratory arrest from electrical current to the head. She has shock symptoms from severe burns. Damage is visible in vital organs. And the mountain god can’t heal his own curse.”
“Then… will Shiho die?” Junten asked in a voice barely heard.
Nazukihiko didn’t know, so he said nothing.
It was raining outside; the drizzle of the afternoon had changed to a downpour.
Nazukihiko bit his lip and wondered what he should have done. Could he have done anything different? What if he’d gone down to the village with Shiho to protect her? Could he have prevented this from happening?
Regrets gnawed at him, but he had no way to change the past.
“This may not be something I should say right now, but I owe you an apology,” Junten said. He slicked his wet hair off his forehead. “It’s about the mountain god’s name. I may have been mistaken.”
Nazukihiko looked up. “Go on.”
After a brief hesitation, Junten said, “You inferred the mountain god’s true identity using certain details, correct? The god should have both monkey and raven attendants. The basis for that inference was an old legend called ‘The Story of the Raven and the Monkey, the Mountain God’s Messengers.’ Hisano told us that story.
“We guessed that Hiyoshi Taisha Shrine, which has a monkey as a divine messenger, was the prototype of this mountain shrine, and that the god of Hiyoshi Taisha Shrine—namely Kamo Wakeikazuchi—might be the mountain god’s true name.
“But we were mistaken.
“Here’s what we know: the ritual that the mountain god uses on Mt. Ara relies on a woman who is sacrificed by the villagers of Sannai. She gives birth to the mountain god via immaculate conception. And she must raise the mountain god as her son.
“The objects of faith are the god and his mother, not one or the other. There is no father god anywhere in this story.
“The god of Hiyoshi Taisha Shrine is Ōyamakui—a mountain god—and it’s the father who is central in his legend, not the mother. Kamo Wakeikazuchi is his other name.
“But Kamo Wakeikazuchi isn’t enshrined as the main god of Mt. Ara. We can say that because the mountain god had no reaction to the name.
“I suspect that Hiyoshi Taisha Shrine was not the mountain god’s original shrine.”
Nazukihiko gasped. “So we made a wrong assumption? What now?”
“That’s the complicated part,” Junten said, frowning. “To jump to the conclusion: I think the name may be correct. But the basis for that name—the rites of the god— are incorrect. It’s like trying to recover the memories of a different person with the same name. Of course Tsubaki wouldn’t feel like the name fit him.” Junten raked his fingers through his hair. “There is a festival that involves Princess Tamayori and no father god.”
“What is it?”
“Aoi Festival, in Kyōto.”
That festival was famous enough for Nazukihiko to have heard of it before. Kamo Mioya Shrine was dedicated to a god who was supposedly a Yatagarasu… and his daughter, Princess Tamayori. Kamo Wakeikazuchi Shrine was dedicated to the thunder god of the same name; he was the son of Princess Tamayori and was conceived by a red-painted arrow. Kamo Mioya Shrine’s informal name was Shimogamo Shrine, and Kamo Wakeikazuchi Shrine’s informal name was Kamigamo Shrine.
The Aoi Festival began with a ritual to welcome the god of Kamo Mioya Shrine. The god was considered to be reborn with the start of each festival. This venerated god wouldn’t be the mountain god, but his maternal grandfather—the mountain god had little to do with this part of the ritual. The ritual performed in Kamo Wakeikazuchi Shrine was similar; the god of the same name would be reborn there.
When Kyōto became embroiled in the Ōnin War, the Aoi Festival celebrations were interrupted for many years.
“What if during that interruption, someone tried to perform those sacred rites elsewhere, in a safer location?” Junten asked.
Branch shrines existed long before the start of the Ōnin War. Perhaps some devout worshipers of Kamo Wakeikazuchi had sought out a location to perform the Aoi Festival far from Kyōto.
“The old ritual site in Kyōto is in the mountains. There is a sacred spring and a rock formation, and the ritual is performed with the assistance of a shrine maiden. The spirit of the god was believed to descend into her.
“What if that happened on Mt. Ara? The shrine maiden took on the role of Princess Tamayori, and the nameless dragon god that already existed in local legends was given the name of her son.”
“That would explain it.”
“Maybe. I still think it’s absurd. I need to do more research. The Aoi Festival was interrupted for two hundred years before it started being celebrated regularly in Kyōto again. After the Kyōto rites resumed, the ones on Mt. Ara would be considered unnecessary at best and heretical at worst.
“The Dragon Marsh also has its own myths and legends that have nothing to do with Kyōto. Some of those stories undoubtedly adulterated the original Aoi Festival rites. And so, the mountain god’s identity becomes confused. He is a thunder god and the son of Princess Tamayori. Nothing else is consistent. He lost his stable identity and became a monster.”
“If your hypothesis is correct, then where did Ōzaru and the other Kuisaru come from?”
“It’s a problem,” Junten said. “I don’t know. ‘The Story of the Raven and the Monkey, the Mountain God’s Messengers’ is likely a modern version of a very old tale. Moral legends involving old gods often have a very simple plot: worship them, or they will curse you. ‘The Story of the Raven and the Monkey, the Mountain God’s Messengers’ also has a very simple plot: greed is bad and self-destructive. There’s also a bit of a plot hole in the story. Both monkeys and ravens have a mythological connection to the sun… so why would they need to ask the mountain god to make it stop raining?
“I think this legend was originally a story about a raven and a monkey, but there was no mountain god character who needed to clear up the weather for them,” Junten said.
Nazukihiko groaned. “So the mountain god was added later. Please get to the point.”
“I am. I believe the oldest and most important legend of Mt. Ara is not about the dragon god or sacrificing women. I think ‘The Story of the Raven and the Monkey, the Mountain God’s Messengers’ is the oldest legend, but it’s been revised too much for us to know what the original story was really about.”
Nazukihiko’s eyes widened. “There was no mountain god.”
Junten nodded.
“But there also was a mountain god.”
The mountain god was a Yatagarasu. Or a Kuisaru.
Did that mean—horror of horrors—Ōzaru was the mountain god’s father?
The door to Shiho’s hospital room opened, revealing a haggard-looking doctor.
Shiho’s condition had stabilized.
Nazukihiko tried sensing Tsubaki’s location. He was nearby, a few floors above him. He hurried up the hospital stairs until he reached the roof.
Tsubaki wasn’t alone on the roof. The hero was also there, standing close to the edge.
“Mountain god, Shiho’s vitals are stable. That means she should wake up soon.”
Nazukihiko 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 silver-haired 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 young man’s eyes were full of burning intensity. He wore simple white garments and he carried a splendid long sword at his hip. A hunting dog stood behind him, huge and ready to pounce.
The mountain god bent down and scratched Momo’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 understood that he was too late to change anything. The hero had come to strike down the mountain god as a monster.
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.” He looked toward Mt. Ara. “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.
“I was at fault, too, and I am truly sorry.” Nazukihiko sank to the ground and prostrated himself. He was too late. Why did things have to end like this? Why couldn’t he have figured everything out sooner?
“No. You have served me well. Thank you for everything.”
Momo’s ears flattened to his head, and he whined.
“Farewell.”
Damn it, Nazukihiko thought. He cursed his missing memories as Tsubaki died right in front of him.
***
Tsubaki’s end was admirable. He accepted his fate calmly, and his death was swift and painless. His body vanished into mist; not a single drop of his blood remained on the hospital roof.
Nazukihiko stood still for a long while, stunned. It was raining. The concrete cityscape stretched out before him, illuminated by electric lights. Beyond it were the mountains, lost in blue fog.
He would have killed Tsubaki to save his people.
But Tsubaki had never been his true enemy in the first place. Now that he was dead, Nazukihiko grieved for him and who he might have been.
The hero gave Nazukihiko a sardonic smile. “He ate his own mother a year ago. His fate was sealed from that moment on. Nothing you could have done would have changed his fate.” He looked out at the city. “What will you do now?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
The hero was speaking to him like he had a choice. If the hero decided to execute him here and now, Nazukihiko wouldn’t have the right to protest. He’d served a monster. He probably deserved to be punished for that.
“You served a monstrous god, but you didn’t commit any crimes in his name,” the hero said. “You tried to rehabilitate the mountain god. I won’t harm you or your people for attempting that. You get to decide what your future looks like. After I finish exterminating the monsters on the mountain, I will become the new mountain god. Will you swear service to me, or will you refuse?”
Nazukihiko had lost his original name, his memories, and now his god. He couldn’t kill this hero and become the new mountain god; this hero had done nothing to him that would warrant assassination. If he refused to serve the new mountain god, what would happen to Yamauchi?
He had to ask. “If I serve you, will you help restore Yamauchi?”
The hero frowned slightly. “I have no need for an entire pocket realm full of servants. Yamauchi will still exist; I won’t destroy it. But it won’t be tied to me in the same way anymore. I think of Yamauchi as yours, not mine.” He shrugged. “Don’t you think that’s the case? The mountain god hasn’t been right for a long time before I got here. Things must change.” He paused. “Yamauchi was a demesne for the god who was reborn each year during the Aoi Festival. The mountain god’s power maintained its existence. But that rite is not what it once was, and Tsubaki destroyed Sannai Village. All of his former worshipers have fled; I doubt they’ll return. People will cease believing in the god of Mt. Ara. I suspect that in a generation or two, I will disappear.”
“Does that mean Yamauchi will disappear?”
The hero’s smile was sad now. “Yes. Even if you agree to serve me, Yamauchi won’t last long. Even if you’d remained sealed behind your gate forever, someone would have come along to slay the mountain god eventually. Yamauchi’s days were always numbered.”
“Is there no way to save Yamauchi?”
The destruction of Yamauchi didn’t mean that all of the Yatagarasu would die, but many would. Most of them would. Fleeing to the human world would change them irreparably, and fleeing to Tengu territory would make them perpetual refugees. He couldn’t do that to his people if there was any way to preserve their home.
“What if I remembered my original name? My god name? Would I be powerful enough to sustain Yamauchi’s existence if I did that?”
“No,” the hero said curtly. “You should already know your name. If you don’t, there’s no way to learn it, and even if you did, there’s no way to know what kind of power your name would give you. Don’t pin all your hopes on chasing down a lost name.”
Nazukihiko’s god name should be Kamo Taketsunumi, if Junten was correct.
“If you learned your god name and your memories are still gone, that means you have a different god name—one that you gained earlier, or possibly later. If you’ve forgotten that, then there’s nothing you can do.”
Nazukihiko was about to ask another question when he heard footsteps behind him.
“This is bad!” Junten yelled, out of breath. “The Kuisaru have entered Yamauchi through the Forbidden Gate! Your people are fighting them there and in the mountain god’s realm!”
Nazukihiko gasped. “Since when?”
“The fighting began immediately after the mountain god left the mountain.”
“That was this morning!” It was almost dusk now.
Junten lowered his head in embarrassment. “Sorry. I received word from my people at the Gate of the Vermilion Bird, but my phone and other devices stopped working after the mountain god destroyed the village. It took a long time for my messengers to reach me.”
The hero snorted. “So the monkey finally bares his fangs. Good. There is much to be done.” He glanced at Nazukihiko. “Do you agree to serve me or not, raven?”
Nazukihiko faced him squarely and nodded.
“Then come with me.”
The hero jumped onto the back of the huge hunting dog. He straddled the beast as if he were a horse and patted his neck.
“Go!”
The big dog lifted his head toward the sky, let out a single bark, and dashed forward. He ran through the air like he was walking on mist.
He was headed toward Yamauchi. “Please take care of Shiho!” he called behind him.
Junten nodded as Nazukihiko took raven form and flew after the new mountain god. The wind roared in his ears. Raindrops lashed his face. The sky was gray and forbidding. Electric lights bled colors onto the dingy streets and buildings below.
Nazukihiko’s wings repelled water; he glanced at them and saw what looked like jewels clinging to his feathers.
The enormous dog, shining white, and the hero—the new mountain god—flew through the sky at twilight. Nazukihiko flew beside them, stirring the rain clouds with his wings.
When Nazukihiko drew level beside the dog, the mountain god smiled at him.
“I’m looking forward to getting this monster-slaying over with. Let’s see what your people can do.”
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