山爺の真実
Her desk rattled as she jerked awake, hitting her knees on the underside of the table.
Pai winced when she put a hand to her aching ears, wiping away the blood that flowed sluggishly out. It was warm on her frosty skin. It wasn't as much as it usually was, and when she glanced down to her shoulders, it was to see that none of it had dripped onto her shirt. It would be difficult to explain it away to Shiori with another lie that it was tomato sauce in miso soup.
She looked around herself, blinking away the last vestiges of sleep as she scrubbed the drying blood from her ears off her hands. It was the end of the school day, and she'd just finished cleaning the whiteboard, and taking out the paper waste bin. She was alone in the class now, having sent off the classmate – Nanami – who was assigned to do clean-up duties with Pai that day. Nanami so scatter-brained and doing more harm than good because she had somewhere to be that Pai made her go home early.
Everyone else was at their after school club. She could hear the laughter and chatter of indoor clubs taking place in other classrooms around her. Shiori was at basketball, Aoi and Natsume at Astronomy – which turned out to be more of sitting around and lazily talking about the stars than anything else, and planning for when and where to go stargazing – and Shuusei was at baseball. She'd chosen to stay behind in homeroom to nap, deciding it was safer within the school buildings than anywhere else.
Haru had been roped into a teacher's meeting. From his mournful face when he slumped off to the teacher's lounge, it was a possibility he hadn't quite considered when he volunteered to be a teacher. Shouta was watching Shiori while coaching the baseball team as well. She had no idea how he was managing to multi-task like that, and wished him luck on it.
Especially when she saw Seiran, younger brother to the King of the Kitsune, whacking baseballs out of the air right alongside everyone else on the boys' baseball team.
Everyone was a warier now, especially Haru and Shouta, since they finally knew who the mysterious Hengen was, but didn't know why he was there. If Seiran's words to a suspicious Shouta the other day were to be believed, Seiran was only here because he liked baseball. He did look like he genuinely enjoyed playing the game.
Still no one believed him.
Shin didn't come to school that day for some reason, one she hadn't had time to ask. Considering she was trying to stay away from him to stop herself from asking, So what now? when she thought about how she felt about him, that was probably a good thing.
It had only been two days since they'd come back from Ukabarenairei. Everything was back to normal – if she could think of it like that, which was hard to. More like she found it hard to think of a specific person as 'normal' now that she knew he wasn't entirely as he had been before.
The kids were back, bringing with them renewed joy to the house that seemed barren and devoid of life without them. When given the choice, none of them wanted to stay in Kyoto once they knew they could go back home with their family at Ayashi House. The entire cohort had launched themselves at Pai and Shin when they got back, excited that they were home again.
Shin, for the first time since that fateful night in Kyoto with her, laughed when they threw themselves at him, clambering all over him as he tried to settle them down. The Daitengu, Shiori, Mizutani, and Yukiji all came out to welcome them back home – Ryuu didn't because he was at a friend's house for a sleepover, and Obaasan was peacefully sleeping.
No one wanted to wake Obaasan just then. She was more likely to whack Shin on the head for being the reason her sleep was disturbed, and only then welcome him home before attempting to shovel food down his throat, which Haru would duly endeavouring to steal it all from right under Shin's nose.
Shiori hugged Pai so tight she'd almost lost all breath in her lungs. Shiori had seemed more terrified for her and what could have happened with Kagetora than she had been herself. No one made any comment on Shin's hair, now dyed at the ends with red. She didn't know if Shin told anyone else about it, but he'd told her, when they were travelling back.
Since they'd left the island of the Restless Dead, the right side of his hair had grown longer than the rest at an unnatural rate, red-tipped ends coming to dangle just past his shoulder where the rest of his hair was only long enough to brush over just an inch above his shoulders. She didn't understand it or how he knew, but he told her that it was a physical representation of the side of him that he was more at peace with now – Shinigami.
The red was a reminder of all the blood Shinigami had spilled. Whatever it meant that he and Shinigami were connected like this now, something made it so that Shin would never forget the sins of his Makashi. It was a fact that Shin would have to live with now that he and Shinigami were now one and the same, so intrinsically united that to try taking one away would mean destroying the other.
From the way Shin talked about it, he didn't know what she did thanks to Kagetora's warning; Shin was a full-blooded Kamigami now. She had thought that Kagetora lied to her about that, because Shin still had his beautiful wings. It was how they got off Ukabarenairei, since there were no boats or ferries to and from the islands.
But she knew it, in the deepest parts of her, the parts that felt the indescribable heat of Kamigami melting her to the core. Shin didn't act like he knew what he was now. He still wore his Mask to deter any passing Hengen's awareness that he was completely merged with his Makashi, but he didn't need to wear the white sash anymore.
Just like Kagetora didn't need to wear his, yet did to ward off suspicion. It made her wonder who might have trained him to live without his Mask.
She didn't know how to tell Shin what she knew, and Kagetora's words of Shin's loyalties being tested were always at the back of her mind. She didn't understand what he meant by them. That bothered her because Shin was one of the most loyal people she'd ever met. He could never betray those who'd earned his loyalty.
His allegiance lay with Kouta and Sojobo Kurama...but if Shin was Kamigami now, was he still Tengu enough to be ruled by the Heir and King?
She kept waiting for the moment when Shin would pull her aside to ask her about what happened in the Torimaku, too. The only reason he hadn't before was because he said Shinigami was blocking his memory, preventing him from remembering what happened. Now that he and Shin were one, there was nothing to stop Shin from picking apart that memory to figure out what it was she'd done to save him from himself. It wouldn't take rocket science for him to figure out that she hadn't done any of it on her own. There was also the not-so-little issue of Shinigami's warning her of her impending death.
But when nothing of the like happened, she began to wonder if it really was Shinigami who blocked Shin's memory of the Torimaku, or the mysterious being – whatever or whoever it was – that resided in Shin somehow, that seemed to be the one Kuniumi wanted.
The strangest thing was, she wasn't sure anyone else knew about the change in Shin, either. She caught the Daitengu sometimes watching Shin curiously, and she'd seen Kouta and Shin talking quietly, away from the rest. But no one seemed ready to speak aloud about the change in dynamics between them, and what it meant that Shin wasn't entirely as he had been before.
The return to school cemented the idea of normalcy coming back to everyone's lives. Aoi, Natsume, and Shuusei were all glad Pai was fine and healthy when she came back, and their daily lunches together with her and Shiori went back to usual. But despite all that, she couldn't help feel unsettled. She tried to let herself relax into her semi-normal life, yet she couldn't. Last time she thought everything was normal, it turned out to be anything but.
She wondered if she was becoming paranoid. She was warranted in it though, wasn't she? Given everything that had happened already.
She reached down to her bag and pulled out her water bottle, raising it to her lips and gulping half of it down in one ago. When she finished, she pulled out a handkerchief she'd began to carry everywhere with her as a precautionary measure. She made sure that all the blood trailing down from her ears was completely wiped away, her stomach rolling nauseatingly as she tried to calm her nerves. Her eyes fell to the few drops of blood splattering her desk as she worked. Her lips twisted in annoyance and she swiped her handkerchief over the desk to get rid of it.
Tomato sauce, she thought, remembering the pathetic excuse she'd given Shiori so long ago, the first time she'd bled from a memory and it had stained her white hair red.
Pai leaned back in her chair and stared blankly at the clean whiteboard, trying to dampen the confusing swirl of her emotions just enough so that she could sift through her latest nightmare with logic and some semblance of understanding. Half of it was a blur in her mind, the other half so befuddling that it was hard for her to accept that what she saw was really been a memory and not a nightmare tinged in fantastical horrors.
"He knows." She mumbled blandly, unable to dredge up anger at the fact. Irritation stirred, though, as she recalled the flashing crimson eyes laughingly taunting her as he shoved her off the balcony and sent her plummeting to the ground below. "He knew, the whole time we were there. He knows you're here."
Yes, Kuniumi spoke sadly. She'd seen the memory, too. It aggravated Pai, and she fought to control herself from exploding. He knows we're here.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Kuniumi let out a sharp bark of laughter that had her starting in surprise. Because you wouldn't believe us. You would ask him, and he would only threaten to take you away again.
She tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling fan. Its blades were still. Even from the ground she could see a few streaks of dust that needed to be cleaned off the fan. She idly wondered who would be the one to do it – a student, or the janitor. Maybe no one would. Maybe the dirt would be left there, dust gathering for years and years, until some poor student with a bad allergic reaction finally complained about it and made someone go up and clean it off.
"Is what he said true?" she asked quietly. "Is it because of you they exist?"
No. No. No. We didn't make them.
She frowned at the conviction in Kuniumi's voice. In the memory Kuniumi refused to take responsibility for what Kagetora said, for how he blamed her for So Fu's existence. Who was right? Kuniumi, the unknown Ayakashi who clung to her like a demon, or Kagetora, the sly fox whose words flowed like silver between his teeth?
She didn't know who to trust. Despite the infuriating way he weaselled around with his words, Kagetora never lied. That much she felt she could put at least a little faith in. But it didn't make sense for Kuniumi to be the one who created So Fu.
She was Ayakashi. What Hengen would possibly create something like So Fu, existing for the sole purpose of hunting down other Hengen to kill them, or sending them for some mysterious purpose to a man only ever known as 'the Doctor'? No Hengen she saw in her dreams who went to the Doctor ever came out alive. They were all carted out of his quarters in body bags.
Theia is in one, her body so small in the bag that most of it is empty. Her body has lost so much of its healthy weight that she is now more a skeleton, all jutting bones. The pallor of her skin is like the Goryo's – cold to the touch, hardening as death creeps over it, claiming her young life for its own. Her hair, where it bounced with vibrant colours as her mother swung her around to make the child squeal in glee, now lies in blood-soaked tatters that stick to her broken scalp.
Her stomach jolted revoltingly at the picture. She clutched at it, putting a hand up to her mouth to keep from vomiting. The image rises up in her mind so suddenly, so clear and sharp, that black spots dance in her periphery as she squeezes her eyes shut to force it away.
That was what Kagetora blamed Kuniumi for. He blamed her for the creation of a monstrous entity that could do something like that to a harmless, innocent child that just so happened to not fit the narrow specifications of what that system considered 'natural'.
Kagetora wasn't lying, but his accusation made no sense. Kuniumi hated So Fu. There were too many gaps, too many pieces of the puzzle that were missing. She needed to know more, but she had no idea how she would find the answers she need.
Her gaze hardened as she recalled, through a murky haze, the deeply ingrained rage burning in Kagetora, fury that was directed entirely at Kuniumi. "You lied to me."
We have never lied to you, Kuniumi snapped irritably.
Her mouth twitched like an annoyed rabbit. "You didn't tell me that Kagetora knows you're here. You didn't tell me we already know him."
We never said we would tell you if someone knows we're here. We don't tell you if you knew the baker down the street before you 'disappeared', do we?
"Every time," she continued. "Every time he looked at me, did he hear you? Did he hear every single thing you said to me?"
The snide tone disappeared. Kuniumi sounded abruptly apologetic, sad; longing for Pai's forgiveness as she finally felt a touch of the anger, the betrayal, seething in Pai.
We promised, Bibari, we promised you wouldn't hurt anymore.
Her lips twisted as she pushed herself out of her seat, forcing herself to stand on her feet without her knees shaking. She didn't recognize the dark anger boiling in the centre of her body, reaching out with coiling tendrils to taint every part of her.
You only care because you need me. You're using me. She paused. You're using me just like So Fu did.
No.
The heartbreak she felt was real. It pierced her through her chest, yanking her heart out of her body and blighting her with guilt. She knew what she was doing to Kuniumi by likening her to So Fu, the umbrageous organization hiding in shadows that even the sun couldn't throw a light on. She was hurting Kuniumi.
Bibari –
But she did not care anymore. She was done caring.
"I'm not Bibari!" she snapped aloud, eyes flashing as she ripped her bag off its hook on the table and shoved her arm through its straps. "I'm not your Bibari, so shut up and leave me alone.You being here hurts me."
And just like that.
Just like that, on the snap of her finger Kuniumi was gone, leaving behind a void that stung like hives on sore skin. Kuniumi had become a presence so firmly entrenched in Pai that it was like a piece of herself was torn away every time Kuniumi vanished.
She hated it.
She hated that she wanted Kuniumi to come back almost immediately, hated that she wanted her to return and fill the hole in her that had grown to inconceivable size since the memories started coming.
She hated everything.
She swallowed thickly around the guilt that churned in her stomach and turned on her heel, resisting the urge to slam the door shut behind her as she left her classroom and wandered down the hall. She didn't know where she was going. She still had to wait for Shiori and the two Daitengu, but she couldn't stay in that room any longer, all alone with the emptiness of her own vacuous thoughts.
If she did, she would lose all sanity she so doggedly clung to. She wasn't so naive enough to think she wasn't wandering dangerously close to the edge, and there were too many sharp objects in the room that could so easily pierce skin deep enough for it to matter. The memory of Shiharu's neck breaking, blood spraying, arms dislocating, was too fresh and close despite the time that had passed.
The sight of Shiharu's blissfully blanked face still called too much to her for comfort.
Pai wasn't thinking as she walked down the school halls aimlessly, hurrying past open classroom doors so that the students inside wouldn't see her. A headache pulsed at the back of her skull. She pinched the bridge of her nose as she tried to keep it at bay. The soft golden sunlight of the approaching dusk filtering in through the clean glass of the windows didn't help with her headache. It was too bright and hurt her eyes, only aggravating the throbbing in her head.
With her eyes narrowed to avoid taking in too much sunlight, she looked out the windows she was passing, down to the field below. The girls' baseball team was running laps around the field, Coach Ami barking orders and encouragements and light-hearted insults at the girls who complained of stitches and sweating.
She looked to the other side at the courtyard leading to the school's gates. Some students without a club, or skipping, wandered outside the gates, heading home or to hang out with their friends. Her steps slowed as she watched the courtyard, squinting through the sunlight. Her eyes widened when she caught the familiar wisp of black smoke she'd seen months ago, on her first day in school.
An idea lit a spark in her.
Kuniumi wasn't going to give her answers. All she'd done, in all this time, was give her vague riddles and remind her of promises she didn't remember Kuniumi ever making to her. Now, with the revelation that Kagetora had known all along that there was something wrong with Pai – no, never mind that, the fact that he'd already met her once before, he knew what she was doing before she lost her memories – she found a restless agitation to know more, more than her dreams could tell her, stirring in her gut.
Pai needed to know.
She needed answers.
She had been a good girl, meekly letting the nightmarish memories drag her down to the depths of hell and slowly drive her mad. But she was tired of being patient and waiting for the answers to come to her. It was time for her to do something instead of waiting for things to happen.
×
The necklace Kanou gave her worked on Yori Chiisai.
Maybe the charmed pendant couldn't protect her from the supernatural that would target her as Daichi's ring did, but at least it could fool the Yori Chiisai into thinking she was stronger than them, and that they shouldn't think to try harming her.
She hoped so, at least. She hoped that her pendant would be enough to keep Yamajijii from attaching itself to her. She didn't know why she felt certain that it could somehow tell her what she wanted to know, or tell her anything it did know, only that it could.
Still.
She couldn't believe how insane she was to be doing this. After what Teke Teke did to Shiharu, she should've been as far away from any Yori Chiisai as she could get. No one knew what strange power allowed Teke Teke to possess Shiharu and make her kill herself. How could she be sure that Yamajijii didn't bear such power as well?
But she needed to know. Yamajijii hadn't just thought she was a mistress, he'd thought she was Kagetora's mistress. Master Kagetora's mistress.
Even if it didn't solve any problem, she needed some answers. The not-knowing was so much worse than she could imagine the knowing would be.
Yamajijii looked exactly as he had last time she saw him. He was still an old man dressed in dirty army clothes from an era long gone in fire and blood. He still had one missing leg, the empty trouser cloth flapping in the cool breeze that shifted her loose hair around her shoulders. Flesh rotted away, grey and mottled where bone didn't peek through bleeding muscle. His face was still blurred, concealing most of the bone-chilling effect of his single eye set in the middle of his forehead.
Her headache spiked sharply when she tried to peer through the hazy distortion of his features, and she finally moved her eyes away. She focused on a spot just off Yamajijii's shoulder, and stepped back, as if that could make the putrid, foul odour of dead flesh any less harder to breathe.
Luckily, there was no one around to see her. She could see Yamajijii, but other, normal, people wouldn't. They'd see a white-haired girl talking to air. Anyone would think to call a mental institution on her.
That would be more than a little difficult to explain to Kouta.
Yamajijii sounded sad, mournful, when he opened his sharp-toothed mouth and spoke without her needing to prompt him. "Mistress?"
This time, where she had kept to her terrified silence before, she shook her head. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest at the risk she was taking. "No. No, I'm not your mistress. Why do you call me that?"
"But...you are not Mistress."
It was like he was asking her why he should do anything if Mistress didn't tell him to. She wondered if this was what he was like when he still lived as a human. How wonderful, or fearful, had his Mistress been to secure such steadfast loyalty of a soldier like he once was, that it stretched into death as well?
"You thought I am," she reminded gently. "Why? Do I look like her?"
"Mistress..." A lengthy pause. She couldn't help thinking he was debating with himself whether or not to say more. "Not Mistress smells like Mistress."
She frowned. What did he mean? What, did she have the same scent as the woman he thought she was? How was that possible if he looked like he was over a hundred years old?
"Who?" she asked, taking a step forward. She blinked and stopped when Yamajijii hopped back, trying to keep distance between them. Was he afraid of her? Did the pendant work that well?
She pressed, "Who was your mistress?"
"Can..." he spoke haltingly, hesitating and pushing her nerves to the edge. "Trust you?"
"Yes," she nodded eagerly, spreading her hands out on either side of her. "Yes, you can."
Please, please just tell me something.
She was so close. Closer than she had ever been for so many months now. She couldn't let this precious chance slip away like she had so many other things.
"I won't hurt you. Just tell me who she was. What is her name?"
"Mistress...Mistress Touka...Touka."
Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open. She was struck speechless.
Touka. Touka.
The name of the mysterious woman Kuniumi talked about with such grief, the name uttered by an errant Yori Chiisai. And he was saying she smelled like Touka? How the hell was that possible? Was it because of the pendant? But that couldn't be possible. The first time Yamajijii confused her for his Mistress was long before she ever received the pendant from Kanou.
Then how?
She remembered visiting Shiharu's grave with Shiori, seeing Kagetora there in what she'd thought was the first time she ever laid eyes on him. He knelt before a Nakajima Touka's grave. He had a red string of fate tied around his pinkie. He blamed Kuniumi for her death.
She's the lynchpin behind all this, she thought. She was sure of it. She just didn't know how Touka was connected to her. Pai didn't think Yamajijii could answer her that, but he could tell her one more thing.
"Was she human?"
"Yes. No." He cocked his head, the motion jerking his shoulder up and down. "Mistress Touka In'yoji."
"In'yo – " she cut herself off as she paled.
In'yoji meant 'The Way of Yin and Yang'. In'yoji was another, lesser known name for the Onmyoji.
Without warning, smoke began to curl around his body. She stared as he slowly started to disappear into nothing. She fought to keep from stepping forward again, to reach out to keep him right where he was and stop him from vanishing. His second, able leg was already half-gone in mist despite the fact that it was broad daylight.
"Who is she?" she asked. She couldn't keep her voice down as she exclaimed, "Don't go yet – tell me who she is!"
"Not Mistress."
Even his voice was fading away, getting harder to hear. But she could hear the accusation in his voice. He was angry at her. He'd realized she wasn't his mistress. In her defence, that was what she'd been trying to tell him from the get-go.
And then he spoke one final time, and all rationale in her world splintered.
"Mistress Kagetora-dono's beloved wife."