“His crows only seemed to want to eat me.”
“His karasu these days are different. Centuries ago, they were more powerful.” He absently watched the dancing flames. “In times long past, the Tengu was a lord in more than name. He ruled his lands with his karasu generals at his back and armies of beasts at his call.”
The change in his speech—his voice deeper, and his words soft and elegant—immediately caught her attention. His unfocused eyes looked back in time and something ancient stirred in their depths.
“What changed?” she asked in a neutral tone, struggling to keep her body relaxed despite her intense focus on him.
“He tired of the demanding tedium of rule,” he answered in those slow, smooth tones, his attention still on the flames—on a past world only he could see. Though he was speaking to her, he didn’t seem entirely aware of her presence. “His generals departed to seek their own glory and he settled in his mountain valley to let the wars wage without him, ever watchful and never quite forgotten.”
“What was he like back then?” she murmured.
“Ruthless, certainly. His temper has softened from his time in quiet solitude, but his wit hasn’t dulled.”
“When did you first meet?”
“The first time? I don’t …” His gaze abruptly focused, his brow wrinkling in confusion. His eyes dropped to hers, and for a terrifying instant, his blank stare held no recognition.
“Shiro?” she whispered.
He blinked. “Emi?”
She exhaled unsteadily. “Are you okay?”
“What …” He glanced around the circular campsite, looking confused and lost. “What did I say?”
“You were talking about Yumei and what he used to be like.” When he didn’t say anything, she asked cautiously, “Don’t you remember?”
“I remember saying it …” He released her from one arm so he could rub his hand over his face. “I remember speaking, but whatever memories went with those words have already slipped away again. I can’t actually remember …”
She managed a weak smile, attempting to hide her concern. “But you remembered for a minute there. It’s another step toward regaining all your memories, right?”
“Right …”
She tucked herself against him, leaning her head on his chest and hoping he hadn’t seen her fear. His confusion and the way he’d looked at her as though he was so tangled between his past life and his current one that, even for just a moment, he couldn’t figure out who she was … Sickening anxiety twisted in her.
“It sounded like you met Yumei before,” she whispered. How old did that make Shiro? Well over a hundred years, that was for certain.
“I don’t think so … I probably just knew his reputation. Maybe I met him in passing, but if it were anything more, he would remember me even if I don’t remember him.”
“Maybe you weren’t very memorable back then. A little kitsune with one tail or something.”
He huffed a brief chuckle. “Maybe.”
“I wonder how scary Yumei was when he was a warlord?”
His eyebrows shot up. “You don’t think he’s scary now?”
“I meant more scary.”
“Probably a lot more. I think all yokai were more frightening back then, especially for humans. Humans no longer believe in us.”
She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Didn’t you once tell me that yokai are more powerful when people believe in them?”
“It’s hard to have power over someone who doesn’t even know you’re there.”
She laughed softly that his mysterious comment had just been meant to throw her off balance. Shiro was good at throwing her off balance.
Her eyes slipped closed as she listened to the crackling fire. Dread whispered through her, spreading a chill through her body despite the warmth all around her. Sooner or later, she would remove the last two loops of the onenju and free his memories from the binding curse. What would happen then? How much would his memories change him? How different from the man she knew was the person who’d spoken of an ancient, warmongering Tengu?
What if, when his memories returned, he forgot her?
If that happened, then she would just have to accept it. His memories were more important. Besides, if he forgot her, then he wouldn’t miss her once she was gone. An ache grew in her chest.
Weariness spread through her, encouraged by the warm comfort of Shiro’s arms around her, holding her close. Half awake, she drifted as she listened to his heart beating beneath her ear. As sleep whisked her toward oblivion, a sudden thought occurred to her.
“Oh!” She sat up so abruptly she almost dropped her coat. She yanked it closed against the rush of cold air.
“What’s wrong?”
“I almost forgot. One good thing came out of my encounter with the kodama.”
“What would that be?” he asked doubtfully.
She smiled grimly. “Yumei doesn’t need to find the Hinagiku Shrine. I know where we should look first for the missing humans.”
Chapter 10
“Well,” Emi said nervously, “it’s definitely misty.”
Shiro stood on one side of her, Yumei on the other, and together the three of them studied the valley. The sprawling forest spanned the width and length of several mountains, the endless trees melding together into a carpet of green conifers and skeletal branches, devoid of autumn foliage.
Only the outer edges of the forest were clearly visible. Filling the bowl of the valley, thick fog hung in the air like a cloud too heavy to stay afloat, obscuring everything but for the tops of the tallest trees poking through. The afternoon sun glared in the blue sky, but neither its light nor its warmth affected the softly roiling mist that drenched the valley.
“Do you feel that?” Shiro asked.
Yumei nodded. “Tsuchi’s presence is surprisingly strong.”
“Tsuchi?” Emi repeated, squinting at the fog, unable to sense anything unusual. “But that doesn’t make sense. Izanami would want to imprison a Kunitsukami away from Tsuchi.”
“Maybe this is something else,” Shiro murmured. “We won’t know until we check it out.”
Without another word, Yumei started forward, gliding down the slope toward the dark wall of trees. Gripping her bow in one hand, she hurried after him, Shiro trailing behind her. She wished she knew what they were walking into. Even with her bow and the ofuda tucked in her sleeves, she didn’t feel well prepared.
Trees closed in, the thick trunks towering over them, their bare branches tangled high above. The snow on the ground thinned until it was only ankle deep. Beneath it, a thick carpet of leaves absorbed their steps. Sparse underbrush left the forest floor surprisingly open and easy to traverse.
She squinted ahead. The dark trunks formed bold lines across the snow, but in the distance, the shapes of the trees softened and disappeared into the white fog.
“I can see why the local yokai avoid this forest,” Shiro said, his quiet murmur startling her. “It’s so lifeless.”
“Lifeless?” Emi echoed, glancing around at the endless trees.
“No birds, no small animals. I can’t hear or smell anything alive.”
Now that Shiro had pointed it out, she couldn’t ignore the eerie quiet of the woods. Their soft footsteps, even the sound of their breathing, were obtrusively loud. Twitching her shoulders nervously, she hurried her steps to stay closer to Yumei. The Tengu glided through the snow, his head turning slowly as he took it all in—not fearfully, but wary attentiveness did touch his movements.
“Yumei,” she said, eager to cover up the ominous silence. “Are you sure you’ve never met Shiro before?”
He didn’t even glance back at her. “Yes.”
“But he remembers you.”
He stopped and turned, his silver eyes shining in the shadows as they snapped from her to Shiro. “What are you talking about?”
She explained what Shiro had said about the Tengu of the past and how he’d forgotten the memories i
mmediately afterward. “What if you two did meet a long time ago, but you just don’t remember him?”
“We have not met,” Yumei said without emotion. “I would not have forgotten such an irritating creature.”
“I’m glad I’ve made such a lasting impression,” Shiro said, his smirk suggesting more amusement than insult.
“How would Shiro know so much about you then?” Emi persisted.
Yumei turned and resumed walking. “Probably from his master. Though I cannot recall the face of any Kunitsukami after so long, I have met Inari on numerous occasions.”
Because the Kunitsukami were so far from mortal—beings of deep power and magic—their appearances easily slipped from the memories of lesser beings. It seemed so strange to her that Yumei could remember so much about them but not their faces.
“What’s Inari like?” she asked.
“Irritating. The kitsune take after their master.”
Emi frowned at such a rude description of a Kunitsukami. Shouldn’t Yumei be more respectful, even in passing?
“So how would Inari and Shiro most likely know each other?” She glanced between the two yokai, unsure who she was directing the question at. “All I know is that the kitsune are said to be Inari’s messengers.”
“Why would a Kunitsukami need messengers?” Shiro asked. “If we ever find Inari, that will be my first question.”
Yumei flicked a hand in annoyance. “Messenger, servant, vassal. Many words for the same role. As I have my karasu, Inari has the kitsune.”
Emi scrunched her eyes, imagining a stern, regal figure surrounded by a tumbling pack of fluffy white foxes. Not nearly as intimidating an image as Yumei and his flock of black, beady-eyed crows.
“So Shiro is probably Inari’s vassal? I guess that makes sense.”
“I don’t know.” Shiro laced his hands behind his head, tipping his face toward the forest canopy enshrouded in fog. “I have my doubts.”
“Why?” she asked.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he replied dryly, “but I’m not the obedient, reliable type. No Kunitsukami in their right mind would want me as a vassal.”
Emi didn’t respond. Despite Shiro’s poor opinion of himself, she suspected his capacity for honor and loyalty far outweighed his unpredictable tendencies.
“In their right mind?” Yumei repeated in a murmur. “Inari is many things, but that is not among the first descriptions I would apply.”
Startled out of her thoughts, Emi stared at the Tengu’s back with wide eyes. “What do you mean? Are you saying Inari isn’t … sane?”
“Sometimes.”
“What does that mean?”
Yumei stopped, his head swiveling. Emi halted as well, apprehension sliding through her. Gripping her bow in both hands, she scoured their surroundings—the unmoving trees and swaths of unbroken snow. It took her a moment to see what was amiss.
Two dozen yards beyond the nearest trunks, everything was white. During their walk, the fog had thickened, obscuring the woods. The diffused sunlight cast no shadows, creating an eerie world of dim, indistinct light.
“Are we lost?” Emi whispered, remembering her circular walk through the mountain forest a few weeks ago when she’d first encountered Shiro and his oni pursuer.
“Not yet,” Shiro answered.
“Stay close,” Yumei said, resuming his gliding walk. “And keep quiet.”
Shiro moved to her side and they followed the Tengu through the woods. The minutes ticked by and she wondered how much daylight they had left. A couple hours, at least, but that wasn’t enough time to search the entire valley. Yumei and Shiro probably didn’t mind the dark, but the thought of wandering this strange, noiseless forest after nightfall filled her with dread.
What would they even find here? Maybe this place had nothing to do with Izanami and the missing Kunitsukami. Even if it did, they were roaming without direction in a sprawling valley. With the limited visibility, they could walk right past obvious clues without seeing them.
Obeying Yumei’s demand for silence, she didn’t share her thoughts. Until the Tengu gave up the search, they wouldn’t be leaving these woods. Shivering in the cold and tugging nervously at a lock of hair that had escaped her tight bun, she followed him wordlessly.
Shiro strode beside her, scanning the woods. The fog drifted in and out of the trees, thickening unexpectedly into dense clouds before thinning again. They walked in and out of the pockets of mist, some so dense that Yumei’s dark shape ahead of her would almost vanish.
Her skin prickled. The chill in the air grew, seeming to leak up from the ground to coil around her ankles with each step. Yumei’s silhouette faded to misty grey as the fog rolled over them again. She shifted closer to Shiro until her sleeve brushed his arm, the slight contact calming her nerves a little.
Yumei came to a stop, the mist slowly roiling around him like a cloud. He turned his head side to side.
“I lost it again,” he murmured.
“I lost it too,” Shiro said. “Tracking in these conditions is impossible.”
“Lost what?” Emi asked, rubbing her arm with her free hand. The bow held tight in her other fist did little to comfort her.
Shiro rolled his shoulders to release tension. “I can sense a strange presence, but I’m not quite sure what it is.”
“Tsuchi is obscuring our senses,” Yumei added irritably.
“Wait, you two are following something?” She looked between them, a scowl pulling at her mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought we were just walking around aimlessly.”
“The earthly and spirit realms are dangerously intertwined here,” Yumei said, ignoring her complaint. “They shift continuously with the fog.”
Shiro pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Since the fog is coming from Tsuchi, can you do anything about it?”
Yumei turned, his gaze sweeping across the misty trees. “I have no power over Tsuchi here. I cannot even …”
An eddy swept over them and his words faded with the swirling fog. The dense mist obscured his form entirely, though he was only a few steps away. His voice disappeared along with his shadow.
Shiro’s arms clamped around her, pulling her against him. She clung to him, fear dancing along her nerves. She couldn’t see anything but white.
“Yumei?” she called.
“He’s not there,” Shiro said in a rough growl. “I should be able to hear him but I can’t.”
“What—but what happened?”
“I’m not sure. All I know is he’s not where he was a moment ago—or we aren’t. The realms keep shifting with this accursed fog.” His head snapped around, ears swiveling rapidly. “We’re getting out of here.”
“What about Yumei?”
“He can take care of himself.” He gripped her hand, entwining their fingers tightly together. “Don’t let go of me.”
She nodded anxiously and he started back the way they’d come. The heavy fog churned all around, hiding the forest. Trees appeared in front of them, visible only from a few feet away. Shiro steered her unhesitatingly, weaving around trunks and underbrush. Emi glanced at the snow, searching for the tracks they’d made on their way into the forest, but she couldn’t see so much as a footprint.
“How do you know which way to go?” she asked in a hush.
“I have a good sense of direction.” He stopped, his ears swiveling, then started again at a different angle. “This fog is making it difficult, though. I’ve never seen the two realms intermingled like this before.”
“What about Yumei’s home?”
“His home is an anchor, but this is something else.” He circled a ragged spruce tree. “I don’t know much about how it works. Yumei is the expert, not me.”
“What if this forest—” she began.
Shiro jerked backward mid-step—or he tried to. He twisted strangely, almost convulsing on the spot.
Clutching his hand, she stepped closer. “Shiro, what—”
“Stay
back!”
Still holding her hand, he dug one foot into the snow and strained backward, but somehow he didn’t move, as though an invisible force was holding him in place.
As she clutched his hand, a strange, golden shimmer caught her eye. She squinted. When Shiro moved, a thin line shone like a thread of spun gold, stretching away from him into the trees. Another thread gleamed, almost invisible in the fog, then another and another. As she leaned back, the shape materialized before her.
A web. A glistening golden spider web stretched between the trees.
Shiro strained against the huge web, his left arm and side stuck to the shining threads. Emi grabbed his hand with both of hers and pulled, throwing all her weight into it. The sound of a seam ripping accompanied his grunt as he dug his free foot into the snow. They both pulled hard against the web as the threads bowed under the pressure.
Then his foot slipped.
The web snapped back into shape, yanking him with it—and tearing his hand out of hers. As she fell, the fog roiled violently. Scrambling up, she lunged for Shiro as the mist swept over them.
“Emi!”
His voice came out of the fog and she reached for the spot where he should have been. Her hands found nothing but cool mist as she stumbled forward.
“Shiro? Shiro!”
Her panicked cry echoed around her. She froze in place, her senses straining. It was silent. Impenetrable white fog surrounded her. She couldn’t see or hear anything.
“Shiro!” she called desperately.
He should have been right there. Right there in front of her. Why wasn’t he answering? Why couldn’t she see him? Stretching her hands out, she took a few more careful steps, terrified of walking into the spider web and becoming trapped with him. Where was he? Why wasn’t he there?
After a few more steps and frantic calls, she knew she was alone. Squeezing her eyes shut, she saw Yumei vanish right before them, swallowed by the fog. The same thing had happened to her. Was she still in the earthly realm? Or had she been shifted to the spirit realm?
Panic spun through her head. What was she supposed to do? She hadn’t thought to ask Shiro or Yumei what to do if they became separated. Opening her eyes, she stared around at the fog. She should do nothing and wait. If she wandered around, she would only make it harder for them to find her.