Four Hundred And Twenty Two

Four Hundred And Twenty Two

“I’m still very confused.” I said to Tarōbō, who was in a wretched state, having taken a beating from my attacks. Seeing that, I placed my hands on his shoulder and ribs, allowing aether to flow, calling on Ether Healing. For a moment, the old Tengu instinctively resisted, fighting against my invasive energies, before he relaxed, and the soothing energy began to slowly heal his torn flesh. “You fought so hard for this mountain over all these centuries, then I come along and you just hand it over?”

“Hand it over?” Tarōbō grimaced, his beak twitching. “You are sorely mistaken. I am still the master of mount Atago, as I will be so long as the Flame endures. Yet... the power of the Tengu has waned. We had suffered losses before, and we were never numerous. Each Tengu fallen is a tragedy. Yet the loss of two of the Directions, my sons... that weighs heavy on me. I am no fool. I can see the shifting tides. The kami of Kyoto were ravaged by invaders, were they not? Should they have turned our way...” his eyes seemed to be gazing off into the distance. “...I am under no illusions we would have triumphed bloodlessly. Even those scoundrels from the Night Parade...” Kinneka flinched at that, before growling to himself, annoyed at his newfound timidity. “...are flapping their wings in a panic, worried for the future. Haanōbō, my foolish daughter, she was correct, it seems. The time for us to remain isolated has passed. Especially now.”

“I get that.” I was bone-weary after constant challenges and battles, my reserves of most elements non-existent, my aether low. I still didn’t stop healing Tarōbō though, as a mark of respect, and to further our cooperative relationship. “But an alliance was what I asked for. Dominance over mount Atago... don’t get me wrong, it’s massively helpful, and you won’t regret it, Haru can make a lot of improvements now we’ve consolidated, and...” I can see she’s inherited plenty more Buildings in addition to the Sacred Flame, though I suspect a number more broke down to ether as her Territory was maxed out on them... “...it’s certainly easier to form a consolidated defence, but...”

“I will not regret it.” Tarōbō parroted my words back to me. “If I will not regret, what do my reasons matter? Suffice to say I have them. It may seem hasty...”

“It is quite simple.” Arangbō strode over, clapping me on the back once more. Damn, he seems over-fond of that. And he never holds back his strength. “It is the same reason I call you brother. Your words and your actions align. And not just yours. We Tengu see much from up on high. Mount Atago looks down on Kyoto, we know you strive to defend what is under your dominion, much as we do. But there is another matter.” He slapped me heartily again. “You said to judge if your words are confidence or arrogance. It was arrogant indeed to try and claim Haanōbō, only daughter of Great Tarōbō. Ordinarily such a request should have been treated with contempt. None of the Tengu of the mountain had the courage to approach my sister, she of the Winter North. Yet you dared lay claim to her, in front of us all, prepared to back your words with might. Power is all.” Arangbō continued.

“I think he doesn’t get what you mean.” Kana said slowly. “I know. Trust me. He’s very frustrating at times. Someone who has like ten or so girlfriends shouldn’t be so dense.” She looked at Tsukiko-san, who was watching on, slightly amused by the unusual situation, where she could be a bystander, instead of the focus. “If you’re going to go for it, Tsukiko-san, you’ve got to expect a number of annoyances. He made me miserable for weeks, flirting with me and getting my hopes up, only to dash them again and again.” She pouted, and I was once more struck with how relaxing it was to be with Kana, a girl who knew her own mind, and could make a man feel extremely pleasant, with her practised, almost calculating mannerisms. “I suppose it’s too late for that advice though.”

Tsukiko-san nodded, idly touching her lip. “I do wish to experience what I denied myself in the name of Tsukuyomi. But I have only now returned, I am unsure of just what you mean.”

“It’s simple.” Kana continued. “Akio is a massive siscon, he really loves Aiko-chan. It’d be a little weird, except Aiko-chan is the same way, it’s almost funny to watch sometimes. Besides, Aiko-chan is a fun girl, it’ll always be entertaining when we all move in together, and having more fun, beautiful girls around is always better. After all, I’m just as cute too.” She boasted, puffing out her chest proudly. “But my point is... if you look at Akio’s thought processes, it all seemed very logical. He’s soft on girls, especially those that remind him of his sister. It’s why he’s so nice to Eri, she’s effectively a sister as well, they grew up so close. So seeing Haanōbō bullied by her own brothers and father, he thinks of Akio-chan, Eri...”

“It was the same for us.” Natsumi chimed in, agreeing. “He was going to turn us down, and I wouldn’t have blamed him for that, we were selfish and only thinking of ourselves. But... when he saw that he could help us, fill the hole in our hearts, he did so. Akio doesn’t like seeing others suffer, especially girls who tug on his heartstrings.”

“And my dear sister...” Arangbō continued. “... we were disrespectful. I... will apologise to her properly once more. But you, a newcomer, the one who defeated her and caused her such shame, you fought for her, asking to take her from us, take her as your own.”

“As a sister.” I corrected, realising how foolish I sounded. “Anyway, I think that should be enough, the worst of your injuries are healed.” I said to Tarōbō, who flexed his wings, pleased both were working again.

“An excellent level of skill. It would have taken me some time to heal my own injuries. Yes, you staked your claim to Haanōbō. I allowed it, were you able to prove your worth. And you did so. You defeated the Directions one by one, displayed your might. Then you cleansed the Sacred Flame, as promised. Yes, we suffered grievously, but... that was not through your deeds. No, you prevented further losses. And then you challenged me bravely, despite me giving you little time to rest.”

“That was a test.” Daiyu realised. “As we expected. Cultivators also train so that we can fight with all our might at our worst, for battle seldom comes when we are prepared, at our best. The spider does not catch flies that are alert.”

“Yes, a test, and you offered no complaints, and then bested me.” The old Tengo grimaced, a comical expression on his face which was a mixture of avian and human. “None of my other children have the might to defeat me. Not even Arangbō.”

“One day.” He rumbled. “But your grasp of earth element far outstrips mine of wood, father. It is a bad combination for me.”

“Perhaps I am too old, too weary. But my surviving children will have to take up more of the duties, since we are short two Directions. Therefore, when an outsider, fresh blood, comes in, proves their worth, and lays claim to my daughter... it is only natural to lean on him.”

“I didn’t... look, I just wanted her to be treated fairly.” I protested, and Arangbō laughed at me like I was an idiot. That hurts my feelings a little. I do get it. I let my anger get away with me, despite my Resilience. But they know what I meant, they shouldn’t twist my words.

“Yes. Even if we take your words as you intended, then you are her brother now. Therefore you must be my son.” Tarōbō agreed. “Haanōbō is grateful to you. And if you meant for more... as her father, I would not stand opposed.” He cast his gaze over the girls. “A powerful man is popular and can provide for many women.”

“My sister, she is quite the beauty to you humans, is she not?” Arangbō said slyly. “You saw her face. For a Tengu, we are a disgrace, the other Tengu families would mock us, so we always hide our shameful features, but... perhaps that is more to your taste?”

She was pretty, I’ll admit. But I barely know her. “Yes, but that doesn’t matter. That wasn’t my intent.”

“Even if it was not, you must still follow through on your words, brother.” Arangbō chuckled. “We are merely saying what relationship you choose to exercise with my dear little sister is between the two of you, but you are bound together now, as are we all.”

“I’m curious...” Natsumi said again. As everyone looked at her, she blushed a little. “I’m sorry if this question is rude or oversteps our bounds, if so, feel free to dismiss it. But... why are the Tengu here less avian? You yourself look much like the Tengu I’ve seen pictured in storybooks and textbooks.”

“A sad story.” Tarōbō sighed. He was holding his staff again, the energy flowing out of it, bathing both him and me in the rainbow glow, restoring our depleted strength. “We guard the Sacred Flame, yet the Flame... I believe the purifying aura of the Flame has an effect, leaving those without adequate strength who bask in its radiance closer to its ideal. I doubt it was merely guilt that led to the kami entrusting the mountain to us. The Sacred Flame is powerful, yet also inimical to beings of spirit. It reshapes and heals, purifies and strengthens. But not at one’s own will.”

“I see. It’s a bit like radiation then, just...” thinking of Haru and her changes, as well as the restoration of Kinneka and Tsukiko-san, I looked at the pair of them closely. Tsukiko-san’s red eyes did seem to be slightly golden, and her midnight-black hair did seem to shimmer a little when the light from the flames struck it. Kinneka’s fur was already golden, but it did seem to be richer, purer somehow.

“Thanks for answering my question.” Natsumi nodded, as if a puzzle that had been bothering her was answered. “So it’s like that, Motoko.”

“Yes.” Motoko nodded. “I am beginning to see a picture emerge. I suspect whoever comes from Kyoto will bring clarity, and we will be able to see what lies hidden.”

“It might be hard for those who venerate the Gods to hear.” Tarōbō said, looking at Tsukiko-san with a little sympathy, but she merely shrugged.

“My faith is hard to shake. After all...” She looked at me, again a gentle smile crossed her features, unusual yet delightful. “...I accepted the sacrifice of my own life, even my very spirit, for the greater good the Gods wished for. That the price was cheated does not invalidate I was prepared to pay it, even as I wished it was not so.”

Kana took her arm, hugging it. “It’ll be fine. That was then. Now you’re one of us, and Akio won’t let you die again.”

“We have strayed from the topic at hand. There are two vacant positions within the Directions. I would offer you the position of Summer South.” Tarōbō said to me, stunning me. On seeing my look of surprise, he chuckled, his beak clacking. “Why are you so shocked? As a brother to Haanōbō, or her lover, either would quality you as my son. And your talent with Flame is great.”

“You land on your feet wherever you go, don’t you?” Yasaka-san grumbled, still drinking.

“And what would this entail?” Daiyu asked, curious. “Is it purely... ceremonial...? Yes, ceremonial.” She stumbled over the harder word. “Or does it offer tangible benefits?”

“Benefits other than getting close to my sister?” Arangbō laughed. “Obviously, it does confer strength, though one needs to have talent. The Pilgrimage, then, Great Tarōbō?” he asked, and the Tengu nodded, slamming down the butt of his staff.

“Yes. To the relic of Suzaku, Lord of Summer.” He agreed. On seeing my quizzical expression, he laughed, his tone bitter. “I do understand the irony. Suzaku, Byakko, Seiryū, Genbu, the Yellow Dragon... all would be considered among the Gods we disdain, those not of this world. But they are different. As you will see. You would not refuse the request of your new-found father, would you?”

There is. Tan for one. And who is to say she’s the only one. I nodded. “But with beings such as you around, and I also met an avatar of Tsumatsu-Hime here in Kyoto, surely we can fend off these threats?”

“Would that we could.” Hachiman smiled, and he moved his hands, and the dove took flight, soaring out towards the grasping darkness before the illusion faded and it was gone. “Like Tsumatsu-Hime, I am merely a shell, a way to contain enough of my consciousness and power to present myself without damaging the fragile Boundary further. I could have and would have acted were the situation to become dire enough, yet to do so... it is merely exchanging one disaster for a potential greater one. Ordinarily I dwell in the deepest eddies of the Astral surrounding this world, yet I do keep watch on here and other places, though I mostly leave it to my proxies, such as he in the Palace.”

“Yes, I was not sure whether it would be you or him that came, Ōjin.” Tarōbō said, as everyone watched the discussion keenly, unwilling to miss a moment. “I suspected you would stir yourself for this. And I am old, and weary. I understand more than these new-borns. Even my own children know little. But the kami... you yearn for the return of your Gods, do you not? Because then you can be taken away from here, to higher, better places.”

“It is only natural to revere the Gods of Japan. After all, I am Japanese.” Hachiman said. “Even in death, I carried on my work, and eventually was venerated enough to become a true kami and gain great power. But even I am helpless against the true Gods, or many dangerous threats that dwell in the wider Astral. Yes, we wish for their return, but...”

“... but you are not the only ones who dream of the return of their Gods.” Tarōbō banged down his staff. “... and Japanese. Yes, you are. But there were other mortals and spiritual beings that dwelt in this land, long ago, alongside us.”

Of course. The Ainu and the kamuy. I wasn’t aware they were ever so far south, but I do know that what we get taught is highly... sanitised. One thing we Japanese are good at is avoiding responsibility for our historical sins. Mom always made sure to let us know no nation was perfect, and that every country hides many skeletons in the closets and bodies under the floorboards. Hell, she used to say the same about Britain, Empire and slavery, among other matters.

“Yes, the other native peoples, their own Gods. But there is only so much to go around.” Tarōbō snorted. “So much ether, so much adherence, so many precious hallowed sites such as mount Atago. So... war.”

“Yes, war.” Hachiman agreed. “It started with skirmishes, driving them off, killing the men and older women, and...” he looked around, seeing many young women, and changed what he was about to say. “...taking captive the young. The kamuy clashed with the earliest kami, and both sides suffered losses. But we... we were in the ascendant, and eventually we drove those people north, to their limited sanctuaries. Sacred sites such as this mountain, we took, made our own, and it is one reason that Kyoto is built here. It has been a long fifteen hundred years since, and... now such rivalry may begin again. The kamuy were winnowed down to merely a handful, yet should their true Gods return, as ours will...”

“Then your deeds will be seen for what they were.” Tarōbō said with satisfaction. “This is all wishful thinking, of course. Far more likely we will all perish, than the Gods of Japan reach out and take control of this world. Yet... the seeds sown by many will bear fruit. Whether that fruit is poisoned... we shall see.”

“Fifteen hundred years...” Kana said, surprised. “That’s about the same timescale as the true shrines go back to.”

“And the war between the humans and the Fae, which drove us off the Material.” Bell echoed.

“And the retreat of those cowards from Kunlun. I do not think this could be coincidence.” Daiyu agreed.

I nodded. “Yes, it seems that everything started happening at once, or at least over a rather short period of a few years. It answers my question. If the Ainu were pushed back then, like everything else involved with that time, there’s a veil of secrecy agreed by all involved. No, perhaps agree is the wrong word, everyone seems to have accepted that the knowledge should be hidden. So it’s no wonder our history books teach us about their more limited reach.”

“We still know little of these Ainu.” Motoko said, her expression troubled. “You said we do not treat them kindly?”

“Yeah, that’s... a way of putting it.” I sighed. “We settled their lands, stripped them of rights and tried to ban their native religious practises and culture, encouraging intermarriage until they were the same as us. I expect there are probably darker events that took place as well, though I don’t think those are well documented. Even today, those of Ainu descent face discrimination and hardships that us ordinary Japanese don’t know, not that there’s many of those left. My mom... she has always said that the Japanese are very protective and kind to their own, but they don’t care for outsiders. She had it hard for a while when she first moved here. Luckily we had friends who looked out for her. So eventually she was accepted. Now, she’s faced nothing like they have, but... she still sympathises.”

“I see. This is not taught at Hanafubuki.” Motoko said, troubled. “I wonder... have the nobility been involved in such?”

“Almost certainly. Though from what I gather, at least some steps have been made to rectify many of the worst decisions, such as denying them their culture, as of recently. Sadly it’s too little, too late for many. Most of the Ainu have likely already intermarried into Japanese families over the centuries. There’s only a few tens of thousands left, my mom said.”

“I see. I shall speak to grandfather and father and find out more about this.” Motoko said, her face set. “We are trying to build a better world, such injustices have no place in it. Besides...” her face fell. “... the bear, that kamuy. It was achingly sad. You will help me, Natsumi.”

“Of course I will. Though I doubt my parents know much about it.” She promised. Seeing that, Tarōbō burst out laughing, beak clacking behind his mask.

“See that, Ōjin? The young are often full of spirit. But nothing ever changes. The mortals ape you kami and persecute the others who share their lands, even to this day. Hence why you gave the Flame into our care. It is hard to claim to be righteous when you are constantly seeing the rewards of your misdeeds.”

“Your words wound me, as they did then, Tarōbō.” Hachiman sighed. “But there is some truth to them. But we are hardly alone in defending our own, no matter how savagely. The world back then was harsh, many strong powers clashing. And it will happen again.”

“But if we have kami such as noble Hachiman, of the Eight Banners, we can weather the storm!” Kana said, her expression complex. I see the talk of persecution upsets her, but she also has respect for the kami. It’s a difficult path to tread. “You can help us against that damn toad when it returns!” she turned to Tsukiko-san. “We won’t let it come back for you, if it does, Akio and the others will kill it again. I’ll help too.” She promised, and Tsukiko smiled gently at her, thanking her softly.

Hachiman remained silent, and Tarōbō guffawed loudly. “Put not your trust in the kami, I told you. Yes, they may act, but only in their own interests, or for those they cherish. Ōjin here may be strong, but he will not risk his own life. If he thinks he can win, he will, otherwise...” he snorted, angry. “... the Yōkai, kamuy, foreign enemies... the kami have faced them all many times, but unless they have the upper hand, such as against the kamuy, it always ends in a stalemate.”

“It is not that we are unwilling, but unable. Your anger blinds you, Tarōbō.” Hachiman said, his voice hard and cold. “Against an intruder from without, I may be able to act, though the cure might be worse than the disease. There is little point killing one cockroach that has entered the storehouse, only for the door to be left open for hundreds to swarm in and devour the rice. And some cockroaches are truly monstrous.”

“See? Weasel words...” he grimaced, and I chuckled, remembering my earlier complains I wasn’t allowed to use that turn of phrase anymore. “So, has Ōjin satisfied your curiosity? There are many such sites, though not all have been protected as has mount Atago, and they have fallen to ruin. We take our task seriously, not for the kami, but for us, as the mountain is ours! As Summer South, you now have a duty to protect this place. And your family...” he turned to Haanōbō, who let out a long sigh.

“Taking a mortal... no, not mortal...” Hachiman corrected. “...a once-mortal as one of your Directions? A strange choice.” He then saw the way Haanōbō was acting, shy and bothered. “Oh, I see. A happy event then. I give you my blessings.” He reached out his hand, and amber letters flared across my vision.

Your class, Kami-Blessed has increased from level 10 to level 12. Charm has increased by 1. Majesty has increased by 1. Aether has increased by 44.

I could surmise that Kana had also levelled her Kami-Blessed class too, from the way the light of aether and adherence wrapped around her. Excellent, a boon, at least. “I thank you for your blessing. But...” I said, unwilling to let such an advantage leave. “...I have others who deserve the blessing of the kami. After all, we dealt with the invasion of Kyoto, preventing the need for you to act. So, if I bring some people on a pilgrimage to the Imperial Palace, can you bestow your favour on them too?”

Hachiman paused, thinking, before he agreed. “I can. But I am weary. Even as an Avatar, it is most difficult for me to remain in these shallow eddies. As gratitude for your service, and as an apology for past actions...” he looked at Tarōbō, who turned his head aside, unwilling to accept. “...I will leave a fragment of my Avatar behind. When you journey to the Palace, my seneschal will receive you, and he will summon me. But I shall do it only once, for even appearing thus is troubling, and may attract attention we do not care for.” With that, he transformed into a giant dove, before taking flight and vanishing, a few gleaming feathers falling down, before they vanished, and it was as if he was never there.

“That was... certainly in the top ten strangest moments of my life.” Haru observed. “Meeting the kami Hachiman. Strange how all the top ten moments of my life have happened after I’ve died though.”

“Pathetic. The kami truly are disingenuous. Oh, do not glower at me so, girl.” He looked at Kana searchingly. “There are the good and the bad, just like with Yōkai, and mortals too. I am sure your kami is a worthy one. The weaker, less famous ones usually are. But when he says he would have dealt with the invader. Perhaps. But only when there was no other choice, and his own interests were on the verge of ruin. And he is not wrong. There are always others watching. The world has found an uneasy balance, one that the Gods from high above have upset. Selfish creatures.” He spat. “Now, enough of the gloom. You now know the reason we Tengu guard, and now you guard mount Atago. Let not the sacrifices and the cruelty be for nothing.”

I nodded, taking a mug of sake and taking a deep swig, trying to wash away the foul taste in my mouth. That’s right. Earth is full of strong beings. Nurarihyon, the Queen of the Seelie, Hachiman and other kami, and likely any number more. Yet it seems to fall to us Chosen to defend the Earth and help it break through to the upper Astral, if I believe Ortlinde, and I have no reason not to trust her yet. So there has to be reasons that the powerful either don’t act, can’t act, or are too weak to make the difference. There are always others watching, huh? Thinking on Hachiman’s earlier words, another phrase sprang to mind. Nothing ever changes. The mortals ape the kami. Everything that happens once happens again. War, the cycle of hatred and greed, scrambling for resources. It’s like Kodoku. But can we break the cycle without putting ourselves and the world in jeopardy?

Seeing my heavy expression, Motoko took one of my hands, and Natsumi the other. Kana’s face twitched, an expression of regret at being too slow crossing her features, and as I opened my mouth to console her, Prince Shōtoku spoke up. “Do you feel disgust? Again, the wars had ended when I passed, and found myself as a kami of Tsukuyomi-jinja. Yet back then, I would have participated without a second thought. The ancient world was cruel. But I implore you to judge us on the times.”

“I do. The modern world isn’t free of the same shit.” I agreed. “Now, that was rather depressing, but I’d rather know more about the world, even if it’s unpleasant. So, now that we’re all here together, and we’ve concluded our alliance, it’s time to plan what we are going to do from here. Besides...” I squeezed Motoko and Natsumi’s hands. “Some of you really need to go home, before your parents get worried.”

Looking at the new buildings Haru commanded, as well as the vast reserves of ether we had pulled from this ancient Territory, I started running some numbers. First, the Throne, and then... Rank four. I have a bad feeling things could get dangerous, so I’ll take worse infrastructure for now, to bolster our defences and reach...