Immortal Fire (The Red Winter Trilogy Book 3)

  But at the cost of his ki—and his life.

  Realizing what he was doing, Uzume cried out and leaped toward him. Inari flung out his free hand without breaking his lock on Amaterasu’s mouth. A raging inferno enclosed her and Inari, keeping the others away.

  Amaterasu closed her eyes. He had made his choice. Nothing would stop him now.

  Letting her hands fall, she turned her attention inward and gathered her power. Then she pushed it into Inari, letting him tear her from her vessel and cast her spirit back to the heavens. She let him do it, even though her ki would destroy him as no Kunitsukami had ever been destroyed before.

  Perhaps it would be enough to save Emi.

  He fell to his knees, dragging her down with him. White light rose from his skin in waves as the kami power his body couldn’t hold leaked out. Still, he kept his mouth locked on hers, drawing her ki into him until only Emi’s human ki remained. As Amaterasu’s consciousness waned, dispersing along with her power, she could only marvel that he had outwitted her. While she had pitied him for his lovesick helplessness, he had extracted her promise to keep Emi alive until the last possible moment—so he would have this final chance to save her.

  As she faded away, she silently promised him that next time, if there was a next time between them, she would not be so easily manipulated.

  “Shiro!”

  His name burst from Emi in a scream as Amaterasu’s presence slipped away—completely, utterly gone. She was alone in her body, more alone than she’d been in ten years.

  As Shiro’s lips parted from hers, his hand slipped from her jaw. Through a haze of pain, he focused on her face and his mouth curved up in a faint smile. Then he slumped onto his back.

  “Shiro!”

  She lunged to his side, tears streaming over her cheeks. Light radiated from his body as the last of Amaterasu’s ki flowed out of him. He had told her himself that no ki was more potent that an Amatsukami’s, that not even a Kunitsukami could survive it.

  Emi scarcely noticed his fiery barrier evaporate or the other Kunitsukami draw closer. She clutched his hand in hers, horrified by his chilled skin.

  “Why did you do that?” she cried, hysteria threatening to overwhelm her as she clutched his hand. “Why?”

  His chest rose in shallow breaths. The unnatural radiance of his skin dimmed, leaving his complexion gray and his eyes dull and clouded.

  Yet he smiled. “It worked. Wasn’t sure it would.”

  “You can’t do this, Shiro,” she gasped. “You can’t leave me like this! I was supposed to die, not you.”

  His hand turned, fingers curling around hers. “My choice, little miko.”

  She leaned over him, her shoulders trembling from the sobs she was holding back. “Just hold on, Shiro. You—you need to hang on.”

  “It’s okay.” His voice was barely a whisper and his eyes were losing focus. “You’ll soon forget me. Humans can’t … remember yokai … for long.”

  “I won’t forget you.” She held his hand in a crushing grip and pressed her palm to his cold face. “Don’t you remember when I promised you I would never forget you, not until my last day?”

  An indecipherable emotion flickered across his features. “It’s okay to forget me.”

  “I’ll never forget you,” she choked. “Shiro, I love you. Don’t leave me.”

  His breath slipped from him. “Live a long life, Emi.”

  The light faded from his eyes and his chest didn’t rise again. She stared at him, unable to believe, unable to comprehend.

  “No,” she whispered. “No!”

  Hands pulled her away from him. She thrashed and screamed as she was spun around and pushed farther from Shiro. Yumei clamped his arms around her, holding her as she struggled.

  “Don’t watch,” he said quietly. “You do not need to see him fade.”

  “No,” she cried again. Unable to fight his strength, she collapsed against him, violent sobs racking her body. How could Shiro die for her, his immortality exchanged for her brief, fragile human life? His ki had been wholly destroyed by an Amatsukami’s. He might never revive. He might be erased from existence forever.

  “Why did he do that?” Emi wept against Yumei’s shoulder. “Why couldn’t he let me die instead?”

  “Some pain,” Yumei murmured, “is too much to endure when you live forever. If he had not saved you, he would have regretted it for eternity.”

  Anguished torment roiled through her, so powerful she couldn’t feel anything else. She pulled free from Yumei, intending to stay beside Shiro until the last possible second, to hold his hand until it vanished from her grip.

  But when she staggered past Yumei, all she saw were the three remaining Kunitsukami standing vigil around the spot where Shiro had fallen, their shoulders bowed with grief. The ground was bare, empty. He was already gone. What little remained of his spirit had returned to Tsuchi’s dark depths.

  In the hidden heart of the world, she wept, her life saved but her soul irreparably torn to agonizing shreds. And she swore to herself that, even though he was gone, she would not forget him. She had promised, and she would keep that promise until her final day on this earth.

  Chapter 29

  Seven Years Later

  “Emi, are you ready yet? You’re going to miss your train!”

  “I’m almost done,” Emi called back, folding another shirt and placing it in her suitcase. She pursed her lips as she studied the assortment of tops and sturdy jeans, plus one frilly, knee-length skirt. The spring weather still had a bite to it. Turning back to her closet, she selected a soft gray sweater and added it on top of the other garments.

  Her bedroom door clattered open and Miyako poked her head inside, her ponytail swinging. “The door just buzzed. Katsuo is on his way up.”

  Emi grabbed a light coat and hastily balled it up to stuff in a corner of her suitcase. “Okay, thanks.”

  “You don’t have to pack your entire closet,” Miyako said with a roll of her eyes. “You’ll only be gone for a week.”

  “You know the weather this time of year. I could get boiling heat or a snowstorm, who knows.”

  Snorting, the girl retreated into the main room and called over her shoulder, “Did you remember to cancel your violin lesson on Tuesday?”

  “Yep.”

  Miyako stuck her head back into the room. “You didn’t pack your violin, did you?”

  Emi copied the girl’s eye roll. “Obviously not. Don’t you have final exams to be studying for?”

  Miyako laughed and withdrew again. Shaking her head, Emi put her hands on her hips and stared at the suitcase. That was almost everything. Just one thing left. She turned to the nightstand beside her bed and opened the bottom drawer. Underneath a stack of school documents, she pulled out two books: one, a worn leather journal, the cover cracked and faded, and the other a much newer diary, the red cover battered but still glossy.

  She tucked them into the zippered front pouch of her suitcase. From the main room, the front door clacked open and Miyako called a cheerful greeting. Emi set her suitcase on the floor and extended the handle. Pulling it along on tiny wheels, she walked into the living room of the small apartment.

  Bright colors, far bolder than the subtler tones in Emi’s bedroom, covered every wall. Miyako’s guitar collection filled one corner, with an oversized sofa piled with patterned pillows taking up the rest of the space. On the wall above it, half a dozen archery ribbons in red and blue were pinned on proud display—Emi’s ribbons, though it had been Miyako’s idea to show them off.

  Katsuo stood just inside the door, his hands in his jeans pockets. He grinned at Emi and asked, “Ready?”

  Before she could answer, her cell phone blared from her pocket. With an apologetic wince, she pulled it out, glanced at the call display, and sent it to voicemail. “I told Aina about ten times that I would be out of town this week, but she keeps calling and asking me to help with stuff anyway.”

  “Maybe the professor will fina
lly realize she’s pretty much incompetent,” Katsuo suggested. “You’re the only assistant he needs. You actually get things done.”

  Emi flashed him a smile before turning to give Miyako a hug.

  “Have fun, Emi!” Miyako chirped, squeezing her tightly. “And don’t forget about my concert next Friday.”

  “I’ll be there.” Emi returned the squeeze and stepped back. “Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone. And don’t forget to refill the bird feeder if it gets low.”

  Miyako puffed out a breath. “You and birds, Emi. You know the only ones that come to our balcony are crows.”

  “I know.” Emi gave Katsuo a conspiratorial wink as she headed for the door. “Bye!”

  “Bye-bye!”

  Katsuo followed Emi out and she closed the door behind him. He carried her suitcase down the stairs and asked teasingly, “Is Miyako ever not cheerful?”

  “Never. The day she’s not the happiest person in the city is the day we know something has gone terribly wrong.”

  They exited the apartment complex and the steady hum of traffic from the nearby street competed with joyful birdsongs. The noon sun beamed down on them and the teasing scent of summer flitted through the cool breeze. The taillights of Katsuo’s car, parked beside the curb, flashed as he unlocked the trunk. He tucked her suitcase inside and opened the passenger door for her. She slipped onto the seat and adjusted her blue and white V-neck shirt before buckling her seatbelt.

  Katsuo hopped into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “We should make it with time to spare.”

  “Excellent.”

  After pulling out into traffic, he glanced at her. “You’re sure you don’t mind going by yourself this year? I know it’s kind of tradition that we go together, but …”

  “Katsuo,” she said in exasperation. “You’re going on your honeymoon. Of course I don’t mind.”

  He grinned sheepishly and glanced at the plain gold band on his left hand, a new addition. Emi had attended the small ceremony just last week. He and his new bride had stayed in town to spend time with her visiting family, and tomorrow the couple boarded a plane for their tropical vacation.

  As he stopped the car at a red light, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Have you and Miyako talked about her plans once she graduates?”

  “She wants to focus on her music for a while,” Emi replied, leaning back as the car rolled into motion again. “She doesn’t want to pursue a Masters like me, but she isn’t planning to move away or anything.”

  Katsuo relaxed. “And your assistant job is going well? It’s been, what, six months now?”

  “Eight,” she corrected. “And it’s going well, minus Aina being the most annoying coworker possible. I would get more work done without her.”

  Chuckling, Katsuo merged onto a highway and accelerated. “Kiku told me to tell you that she wants to do extra workouts at the dojo once we’re back. Her relatives have been stuffing us with food all week.”

  “Sure thing,” Emi agreed. “Though she doesn’t need me for that.”

  Emi already attended lessons at the local dojo with Katsuo’s fiancée—now wife—twice a week. Katsuo was a sensei there and taught various martial arts. He and Kiku had met while she was dropping off her little brother for a lesson and he’d charmed her into joining one of his classes. Her ability to resist him had only deteriorated after that.

  “She said she gets a better workout when you’re with her,” Katsuo replied. “Her exact words were, ‘Emi sets too good of an example, and I have to work my butt off to keep up.’”

  Emi giggled. “Should I apologize next time I see her?”

  “Nah.” As traffic whizzed by on the other side of the highway, he excitedly talked about some of the activities he and Kiku had booked for their holiday. Eventually, he steered the car onto an exit ramp, and in another minute, they were pulling into the small parking lot beside the train station. As he turned off the engine, he looked over at her, his expression sobering.

  “You’ll be okay, Emi?”

  She nodded. “I’ll be fine. It’ll be fun.”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “Do you think it will … be different this time?”

  A pang of sadness pricked her. “No. But I still enjoy the visits.”

  “Do you?” His tone softened. “You … you aren’t really yourself when you come back. Not for weeks.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said, forcing a smile.

  “You’ll text me when you get there, right? And each morning? I’ll check my phone whenever I can.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Don’t you think it might bother your lovely new wife if I’m messaging you every day while you’re on your honeymoon?”

  “She worries about you too.” He sighed. “Well, try to check in as much as you can.”

  “I will.”

  “And be careful. Especially out … out there.”

  “I will,” she promised and opened her door.

  They climbed out and he fetched her suitcase from the trunk. He wheeled it across the platform and waited while she bought her ticket. They chatted about his newest class of beginner students until the train arrived.

  As a small crowd of passengers boarded the train, she pulled him into a hug. “Thanks for the ride, Katsuo. Have a fun holiday, and give Kiku my love.”

  “I will. Be safe, Emi.”

  She waved farewell before climbing onto the train. She chose a seat in an empty compartment and stashed her suitcase under her feet. Peering out the window, she watched Katsuo return to his car and drive away, eager to return home to his new wife. Soon enough, the train rumbled into motion, and with the compartment to herself, she slumped back against the seat.

  Katsuo had said she wasn’t herself for weeks after returning from her yearly trip. He thought she came back depressed, but it wasn’t that—not entirely, anyway. It just took time to readjust to her normal routine and the life she was living as best she could.

  So much had changed in the last seven years.

  After the solstice, she had returned to Shion Shrine. Her three weeks there had been torture. No longer a kamigakari, and with no desire to be a miko either, she hadn’t wanted anything to do with shrines, with kami, with anything at all.

  To get her away from the shrine, Katsuo had leased an apartment in Kigiku and moved Emi in with him. With financial support from Ishida and the Shion Shrine, she had enrolled in university and attempted to start her life over again.

  For weeks, it had been impossible. For months, it had been painful and exhausting. She’d expected to die on the solstice, only to find an unplanned future stretching ahead of her, but it had been empty. And her guilt over not celebrating the gift of her life, a gift that had cost so much, had nearly driven her mad.

  Katsuo had supported her through the months of struggle and grief, and eventually she had found her feet again. She’d discovered an interest in academia, particularly history and religion, and settled into a simple pattern of study and work.

  For the first couple years, she knew that Katsuo had been hoping her heart would eventually heal enough that she might see him as more than a friend. But by the time she felt alive again, their friendship had grown deep and solid, with no room for romance. Then he’d met Kiku, and Emi could only be relieved that he had found someone so wonderful to love.

  Around four years ago, Katsuo had gotten a place with Kiku and moved out of their apartment. Emi had invited Miyako, whom she’d reconnected with the year before, to room with her, and the college freshman had jumped on the invitation. They comfortably shared the small apartment, and Emi had long since moved past needing the Shion Shrine’s financial support. She’d won scholarships and worked various jobs to earn money. She had more hobbies and extracurricular activities than she could handle, and a large social group through Katsuo, Kiku, and Miyako. She was an independent and modestly successful twenty-five-year-old woman.

  She was trying. She was doing her best to live her life
to the fullest.

  As the scenery outside the train window shifted from city streets to patchwork farmland, she leaned forward and unzipped the front of her suitcase. The newer red journal she left in place and instead pulled out the battered brown one. She caressed the cover, then flipped it open.

  Within the back pages, she had described everything that had transpired in her last twenty-four hours as the kamigakari of a goddess. That was the last thing she had written. This was the journal of a kamigakari, and she was human now.

  She normally kept the journal in her nightstand. Each night, after writing about her day in her new diary, she would take out the old journal and read the final pages, where she had transcribed everything that had happened since her first day at the Shirayuri Shrine. Each night, she would refresh her memory, reliving the events again and again.

  She had promised, and she would not break that promise.

  Katsuo still recalled the basic events and knew everything that had happened, but he couldn’t remember the yokai and kami he had met. He didn’t know their faces anymore and sometimes even forgot their names until she reminded him. He said it was like a dream that felt more unreal each year. Without her, he would probably have forgotten everything long ago.

  When she closed her eyes, she couldn’t picture Sarutahiko at all. All she could recall of Uzume was her long braid of tawny hair. Of Susano, she remembered pale hair with a dark blue streak, the flash of sapphire irises, and a surreal vision of a sleek dragon with lightning glowing between his scales. She couldn’t remember his facial features.

  But there was a face she did remember. She remembered every detail, every nuance. His voice rumbled in her memory, sometimes purring with charm, sometimes harsh and ruthless, sometimes soft and murmuring, where she could almost feel his lips brushing her ear.

  She would not forget him. Every day she thought of him, carving each precious memory deep into her soul, over and over and over. She would not forget him.

  Her gaze drifted to the window. He had said it was okay to let him go, but she couldn’t bring herself to even consider it. She would not forget him or the exotic world of kami and yokai she had glimpsed, the magic she had witnessed, the beauty and wonder she had experienced.