“Katsuo,” she whispered.
“Emi.” His gaze flicked over her unbound, sleep-tangled hair and thin, white sleeping robe.
She unconsciously pulled her robe more tightly closed. Pink tinged his cheeks.
“The kitsune is gone,” he blurted. “I just checked the storehouse and he’s nowhere to be found. I couldn’t even find tracks in the snow. The blanket is gone too …” He trailed off, squinting at her. “Why don’t you look surprised?”
She blinked. “Uh …”
He rose on his tiptoes to look over the top of her head. Disbelief rippled across his face and he grabbed her door, forcing it open another foot. “Is that the blanket from the storehouse? And—and bloody towels? What did you do, Emi?”
Guilt swelled in her gut as she glanced back into her room at the extra blanket, bloodied towels, and first aid kit she’d thrown into the corner before collapsing onto the bed and falling straight to sleep.
“Um,” she mumbled. “Well, the storm last night was really bad. I was worried the kitsune would freeze …”
“He’s a fox yokai, Emi. He has a fur coat. He spends every winter outside.”
“I know,” she said defensively, trying not to wilt beneath his anger. “But he was badly hurt. I was worried. I brought him here to warm up, that’s all. He was unconscious so …”
“Where is he now?”
“Well, he didn’t stay unconscious the whole night …”
Katsuo was nearly vibrating with anger. He rubbed his temples with one hand. “Why are you so determined to put yourself in as much danger as possible?”
“It was fine,” she said in a rush, scowling. “I’m fine. Not even a scratch. The kitsune is gone. He took off in the middle of the night, probably back to the forest.”
He sighed, dropping his hand to the hilt of his sword—an unconscious gesture, she hoped. “Well, at least we don’t have to worry about him anymore. You repaid your debt.”
She nodded. No need to tell him the kitsune had decided he owed her a debt. And she didn’t see any point in mentioning that the kitsune could shape-shift into an almost human man. She also had no plans to reveal her accidental arrangement with the yokai to anyone, not even Katsuo.
“I’d better go clean up the storehouse,” he said. “I don’t think Kannushi Fujimoto ever goes in there, but just in case …”
With a rather grumpy bow, he retreated down the hall. She closed her door and leaned against it, surveying her room. Bloody towels and cloths, the basin of pink-tinted water that somehow hadn’t spilled, the shattered vases—perhaps she should clean up too. As she collected the towels, she glanced at her bed. She could almost see him sitting there, his white hair shining and ruby eyes gleaming as he smiled slyly at her.
Shaking her head, she resumed cleaning and tried not to think of him … and the dangerous bargain she’d unintentionally struck.
Emi struggled to keep her mind on her task but it was difficult.
She robotically dragged the broom over the stairs, sending a flurry of snow flying with each motion. Several steps below her, Yui and Rina swept the worst of the snow away, leaving Emi to clear the last of it off each step. At the bottom, the red torii that marked the border of the shrine grounds contrasted boldly with the white snow all around.
Minoru leaned against the torii, his eyes constantly surveying the shadowy forest. With the evening sun setting behind the western peak, he idly spun his bladed staff so that the golden light flashed over the curved steel. This close to the edge of the grounds, he and Katsuo were overly cautious in ensuring her safety.
She barely paid attention to him or the girls. Her internal monologue—a nonstop analysis of her encounter with the kitsune last night—was too distracting. She kept going over their conversation, their bargain, his not-quite-spoken threat. She hadn’t seriously intended to enter into an agreement with him; she’d expected him to turn down her request. It was unfair, demanding, and dangerous. Why had he accepted it? Was his honor that important to him?
Perhaps he’d agreed for the sake of integrity but would only make a token effort at completing it—just enough to satisfy his pride. But what if he did manage to find an Amatsukami for her? What if she actually got the chance to find out the truth, to confirm once and for all that she would face her end on the solstice?
And if she had the chance, would she ask the Amatsukami to change her fate?
The thoughts kept swirling; every time she convinced herself that her destiny had been sealed ten years ago, a faint, creeping hope would disturb her fragile acceptance. And, for some strange reason, Shiro’s face kept interrupting her struggle with her emotions. The unreadable thoughts that had slid through those ruby eyes, the twitch of his vulpine ears, the cunning yet somehow teasing quirk of his lips—surely those tiny movements meant something. The yokai had existed as a dangerous unknown for so long that it had been disconcertingly bizarre to see how real Shiro was, to speak with him as though he was a person just like her.
“Soooo,” Rina drawled, breaking into Emi’s thoughts. “We heard about your adventure the other night.”
Emi frowned and swept the step with a little more force.
“Did you really ride Tornado into the mountains in the middle of the night?”
She dug the broom into the corner of a step and muttered, “Not exactly.”
Rina bounded up the steps to Emi’s side. “I can’t believe it! Kannushi Fujimoto must have been soooo angry. Did Nanako freak out too? I would’ve loved to see that.”
Emi looked at Rina for the first time. The girl was grinning at her, not with condemnation or disapproval but with admiration and humor.
“I … yes, they were upset. I didn’t mean to worry everyone though. I just …”
“Couldn’t take being cooped up anymore, right?” Rina said with a knowing nod. “I get it. I ran away like four times last year just to get away from my parents for a night. And after the solstice, you won’t be able to have any fun, you know?”
Emi mumbled a wordless agreement. Yui wandered over, still obediently sweeping as she listened in.
“Honestly,” Rina said, lowering her voice, “I can’t believe how perfect you’ve been with following all those ridiculous rules.” The way she said “perfect” suggested it wasn’t a compliment. “All that meditation and prayer and special diets and stuff? When’s the last time you had a nice, juicy burger?”
“Um … I’ve never had a burger.”
“Never? Oh my god.” Rina patted her arm. “That sucks.”
Yui cleared her throat very quietly. “The kamigakari can’t break the rules without putting her life at risk. If she isn’t pure enough at the ceremony—”
“Do you really think a burger or two will make a difference?” Rina interrupted. She looked at Emi. “What do you think?”
Emi’s hands tightened on the broom handle until her knuckles turned white. She suspected that many of the strict rules she’d endured were less about protecting her purity and more about minimizing distractions and keeping the kamigakari as docile, and isolated, as possible. Purity had far more to do with her state of mind than what she’d eaten for breakfast.
Rina waited for Emi to answer, then shrugged. “Well, I don’t blame you for getting fed up with it all and wanting a break. It’s too bad you fell off Tornado and didn’t make it back in time.”
“Yeah,” Emi mumbled, not bothering to correct Rina’s understanding of events.
“I heard Minoru and Kannushi Fujimoto talking yesterday.” Rina dropped her voice further, forcing Emi to lean closer to hear. “Kannushi Fujimoto was asking Minoru if he thought Katsuo was experienced enough to be your sohei. He was concerned about Katsuo’s behavior when you were found missing.”
“His behavior?” Emi stuttered.
“He was freaking out,” Rina whispered. “That’s what Kannushi Fujimoto seemed to think, anyway. Minoru said that what Katsuo lacks in experience, he makes up for in talent and dedication.”
Emi halfheartedly resumed sweeping. She must have really scared Katsuo, and now his career might be at risk. She couldn’t let Fujimoto find out she’d dragged Katsuo off into the mountains again and made him hide a yokai fugitive within the shrine grounds.
Rina grabbed Emi’s broom to stop its motion, leaning so close their faces were almost touching. “You know Katsuo from Shion, right?” she breathed. “Do you guys have a history? Is there something going on between you?”
Emi jerked back, her cheeks flushing.
“Hey, Emi!”
She spun toward the top of the steps as Katsuo appeared. Her cheeks grew hotter as he trotted down the stairs.
“Hi, Rina, Yui,” he quickly said to the two girls. “Emi, Kannushi Fujimoto asked to see you.”
“Oh?” Her heart sank. Was she in trouble again? Or worse, was Katsuo in trouble because of her? She wordlessly handed her broom to Rina, not meeting the other girl’s eyes lest she blush again, and hurried up the steps to join Katsuo. She followed him into the shrine courtyard.
“Do you have a minute first?” he said. “There’s something I want to show you.”
“Another storehouse?” she asked warily. She’d gotten a lot more than she’d bargained for with that one.
He chuckled. “No, just a … a new experience to share.”
She blinked, curious despite herself. “What kind of experience?”
He grinned. “This way.”
He led her across the bridge toward the house. They passed the front entrance, their feet crunching on the fine gravel path that headed into the trees. The trail forked, and when she glanced into the trees, she saw a tiny house among the snow and foliage in the same style as the main house.
“That’s the guest house,” Katsuo told her. “Minoru and I have it all to ourselves. It’s pretty sweet.”
So that’s where they were staying; she’d been wondering. He didn’t take her toward the guest house, but instead continued down the path. It ran parallel to the steps she’d been sweeping with Rina and Yui, heading in the direction of the road to Kiroibara. The trickling sound of a stream grew louder.
Katsuo put a finger to his lips and stepped carefully off the path into the trees. Ignoring a tiny flutter of unease, she followed, now burning with curiosity. He crept into the dense bush as the sound of running water filled the quiet woods. In the trees, where the low sun couldn’t reach, the shadows were deep, the darkness already closing in. Finally, he stopped, crouching as he gestured for her to join him.
Squatting low, she inched closer until she was beside him, snowy shrubs on either side of them. Just beyond, the stream burbled over stones, winding down the slope toward the unseen road. She gave him a questioning look, and he pointed downstream. Leaning forward, she squinted through the shadows.
A dozen feet away, a handful of glowing lights floated above the stream. A tad larger than her fist, the bluish-white orbs were not quite solid lights but not quite the flickering glow of flames either. They drifted a foot above the water, weaving in an erratic but graceful dance.
“What are they?” she breathed.
“They’re called ayakashi,” he whispered. “A type of yokai. They’re only ever seen at sunset and always around water.”
“They’re yokai?” She held her breath, staring at the slowly dancing lights. They were beautiful. “Why are they here?”
“It’s safe here,” he murmured. “Just inside the torii barrier, they’re safe from other yokai. I thought about chasing them off, seeing as I’m supposed to keep all yokai away from you, but as long as we don’t disturb them, they’re harmless.”
The torii barrier prevented yokai from entering only if the yokai intended to do harm within the shrine grounds. It didn’t stop those with a peaceful mind from entering. Katsuo really should have ejected the ayakashi, though, because the yokai could turn violent once inside the barrier. The sacred ground would reject them and try to drive them out, but it wouldn’t stop them the way the barrier would have.
That was part of the reason her bringing the kitsune inside the shrine had been dangerous. In fact, without her to carry him across the barrier, he might not be able to enter the grounds again.
The tiny, glowing yokai, their shapes within the light indiscernible, shifted from their random, bobbling hover to form a perfect circle. They began to turn, spinning clockwise as they bobbed up and down in a strange, rotating wave pattern. Then they drew together, their lights brightening and merging, and with a flash, they disappeared.
“Oh!” she gasped. “They’re gone.”
“Maybe they noticed us,” Katsuo said. “We should get back to the house. Kannushi Fujimoto is waiting for you.”
“Right,” she said, the thought almost dimming her good mood. Still crouched in the bushes, she turned to face Katsuo. “Thank you. They were lovely.”
He smiled and, in the darkness, she wasn’t sure if he was blushing or if it was just a trick of the light. “After the oni attack and a bloody kitsune, I thought you might like to see a different kind of yokai. Few people ever see the ayakashi. They’re very shy of humans.”
She hesitated. With stilted motions, she reached out and grasped his hand. His eyes widened at her disregard for the kamigakari rules. His fingers were warm, and her hand felt so small on his.
“Thank you, Katsuo,” she murmured. “You’ve been kinder than I deserve, especially after the trouble and worry I’ve caused you.”
He turned his hand and closed his fingers around hers. “You’re no trouble, Emi. Minus the oni, it’s actually been a lot of fun.”
She laughed and gently extracted her hand. She could still feel the warmth of his skin lingering on hers and she squashed a flash of bitter, angry grief at another thing she’d unknowingly sacrificed over the years: the comfort of another person’s touch. Though she was only forbidden from touching men, almost no one had touched her with care or affection since Hana had died. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had hugged her.
Shiro’s forceful “embrace” last night definitely didn’t count, no matter what he chose to call it.
Katsuo escorted her back to the house and she entered alone. Fujimoto was waiting for her in the main room, sitting at the table with a cup of tea in front of him. She bowed in the open doorway.
“Ah, my lady, come in, come in!” He adjusted his kannushi hat as she knelt at the table across from him. “Are you enjoying the snow? It’s certainly early this year, but we can hope spring comes even earlier.”
“The weather is lovely, if not typical,” she answered politely.
She watched him blow on his steaming cup before taking a sip. He’d returned to his ingenuous self immediately following his harsh lecture the previous morning, but she suspected she was not at all forgiven. A tray with a steaming teapot and a second cup sat by his elbow, but it wasn’t until she looked at it that he offered to pour her a cup.
Setting her tea down in front of her, he smiled, his wrinkles deepening. The expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I spoke with Guji Ishida this morning. He and a select few trusted kannushi will be visiting on Sunday to check on your comfort here at Shirayuri Shrine, as well as to assist you with the first preparations for the ceremony.”
He took another sip of tea. “Is there any aspect of your comfort that does not meet your standards, my lady, so that we might address it before Sunday?”
She touched her cup but it was too hot to drink. “I am very comfortable here, Kannushi Fujimoto.”
“Are you certain, my lady? Nothing—or no one—that might encourage you to leave the grounds or otherwise distract you from your duties?”
Was he talking about Katsuo? Or had he found out about the kitsune somehow? No one knew about Shiro’s shape-shifting ability or the favor she’d requested, of that she was certain. But if Fujimoto even suspected that a yokai had been in her bedroom, he would be on high alert.
“I’m very certain,” she replied, outwardly calm while her mind raced. “I
will remain focused on my duties.”
“Excellent, excellent!” he exclaimed, almost slopping tea out of his cup. “I’m sure you will enjoy visiting with your mentor on Sunday. Guji Ishida has practically raised you, hasn’t he? Yes, yes, very good. It grows late, my lady. It is almost time for your evening bath and meditation.”
She glanced at her untouched tea, but his dismissal was clear. Bowing, she left the room, feeling queasy. Ishida had certainly played an important role during most of her childhood, but he hadn’t raised her like a father would raise his daughter. He’d raised her like a farmer preparing a perfect cow for slaughter. He’d guided her every step, knowing he was leading her to her demise. Just because her body would live on didn’t mean he wasn’t killing her.
Returning to her bedroom, Emi opened the door and stepped inside, her mind already on the bath she would take as soon as she could gather her supplies for the bathroom. She slid the door shut.
“It’s about time, little miko.”
Emi choked on a scream and fell back into the door, almost punching her elbow through the thin wood.
Lounging casually beneath the window, with one leg stretched out in front of him, Shiro gave her his lazy grin. The red onenju beads gleamed on his arm, but they dulled in comparison to the dangerous gleam in his ruby eyes.
“You—” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”
Apparently, he’d had no issue entering the sacred grounds of the shrine on his own. That, or he’d never left. She pressed her back against the door. Fujimoto was just down the hall, Nanako was somewhere nearby, and Rina and Yui would be returning from their chores soon. Any one of them might pass by and hear the unfamiliar male voice coming from her bedroom.
“Did you change your mind then?” He cocked his head. “Do you no longer wish me to fulfill your request?”
“You have no business here until you’ve found an Amatsukami. Either reject my request and leave, or go do it.”