Book II ニ Part 02 (Kite)

Shichi rose before the sun. Chiyo was curled up at his side, still sleeping. She was a ball of white, her fur rising and falling with each slow breath. He sat upright, careful not to bump the kitsune as he left the futon. The room was still dark. It took him a moment to remember that he was not in Urameshiya — that they had traveled to a village of kitsune and stayed the night in Naoki’s home. He was no longer surrounded by bundles of hanging herbs and shelves of medicine, nor could he go downstairs to find Fumie preparing breakfast for her patrons.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he found the jacket that the innkeeper had made for him. The fabric was still crisp and new. The tengu thought of his old haori, wondering if Aki still had it. Hopefully, it would help to keep her warm, despite being in a stark cell.

As he dressed himself, his eyes caught the white ribbon that was tied around his wrist. He had kept it there for over a year and, unlike his jacket, the cloth was thin and starting to fray. His mind slipped backwards as he thought of the human who had given it to him — of Kana. It seemed like ages since he had befriended her on the mountain he’d once called home. There were so much he had left behind.

Yet, somehow, he still had Chiyo. He couldn’t leave the fox behind if he tried — and he had. After all they had been through, she deserved to sleep just a bit longer.

Using a pitcher and bowl, he washed up before making his way into the hall. In an instant, he could hear a rush of tiny paws as Naoki’s sons hurried to his feet. It seemed that they’d been waiting for him to wake up.

“Do you want to play?

“We have some tops. Do you want to see them?”

“I would love to,” the monk replied, wondering where they got their energy from. “And… let’s see. Would you like me to show you how to make a kite?”

“Yes!” the two kits replied simultaneously.

Not long after, Shichi and the two kitsune were seated downstairs amidst a collection of bamboo rods and paper. He and Ken were almost finished with the frame while his older brother was trying his hand at painting.

“Um… how do I write ‘kite?’” Kyo asked, now in his human form.

“Like this,” Shichi said, borrowing the brush to write on a piece of scrap paper. “Start writing ‘wind,’ and on the inside, put ‘cloth.’”

Kyo took a moment of intense concentration, his eyes flickering from the example back to his own work until he had made a wobbly copy of the character.

“Is this right?”

“That’s very good,” Shichi said with a nod. He had clearly not inherited his master’s style of critical, iron-fisted drilling. He could only imagine what she would have to say about the boy’s crooked handwriting and stroke order.

“Is that… your father?” the monk added, scrutinizing the painted design. It appeared to be of a large, gangly fox, its eyes in two different sizes and its mouth full of teeth.

“Yes! Does it really look like him? Do you think he’ll like it?”

“He’s going to love this,” Shichi said, squinting in amusement.

“What are you all doing down here?” came a voice from above. The three looked over to see Hana descending the stairs, her body wrapped in a brown kimono.

“He’s showing us how to make a kite!”

“Ah, I see,” she replied, kneeling beside them to observe. “Do you make kites often, Doctor?”

“‘Shichi’ is all right,” he said, a bit embarrassed at her formality. He still hadn’t gotten used to the title. “We used to make them at my temple — for certain ceremonies or special occasions.”

“Well, Shichi, thank you for showing them how. I know they can be a bit of a handful.”

“I’m happy to,” the monk answered, giving her a nod. He thought once again of his temple, where he had often been tasked with watching new or visiting children. Sagiri had decided that one student was enough for her, having gone back to avoiding youngsters after Shichi had matured. He never seemed to mind the responsibility and couldn’t imagine why his master detested it so.

“I also wanted to show my appreciation for earlier — for helping my husband,” Hana said. “In a way, you helped me, too.“

“Ah, my friends are the ones to thank,” Shichi said, thinking back to how helpless he’d been when poisoned — how Aki and Chiyo had saved his life, how Rinka and Kazu had caught the impostor on their own.

“It was still you who cared for him,” she said, shaking her head. “So it is you I want to thank.”

Shichi paused at her words, then bowed his head in response. “I’m honored. And I’m happy to see that you’re well — we were quite worried about you.”

“Hah, there was no need to worry. I’ve lived through worse,” she replied, her eyes narrowing slyly.

“Look, it’s finished!” Kyo exclaimed, holding up the large kite with both hands.

“Can we fly it now?” Ken added.

“I think you should show your father first,” Hana answered. “He really must see this.”

“Okay!” they cried before hurrying up the stairs. Shichi exchanged a look with their mother, wishing he could see the look on Naoki’s face upon seeing his ‘likeness.’

It wasn’t until after breakfast that Shichi and Chiyo said their goodbyes. Chiyo, having lamented vocally about the clothing she’d left in Osaka, was presented with a new set of clothes in proper kitsune fashion. The crimson hakama were a bit shorter than her previous pair and the kimono was patterned in matching red diamonds.

“That was a good breakfast,” Chiyo sighed, placing a hand on her belly. She had remained in her human form, wanting to enjoy her new clothing for the time being.

“I’m glad you found the village,” Shichi said as they walked. “It was nice to see his family.”

“Oh, right, his family,” she replied absently. It seemed she was happier about the food than the company.

Shichi ignored her dry remark, focusing on the road ahead. Further down, the path split four ways through the woods. Until then, the only direction they had been moving was ‘away from Osaka.’ It seemed that now, they would have to make a decision.

“Ah, which way should we go?” Shichi asked, rubbing the feathers on the back of his neck.

“You’re the one with a purpose here. Shouldn’t you decide?”

“You know much more about the world than I do,” he admitted, remembering how overwhelmed he had been upon arriving in Osaka. It had been his first time in a real city.

“All right, let’s see,” Chiyo mused, finding a thin stick on the side of the road and examining the length. With a determined breath, she tossed it into the air. It flipped above them before clattering down to the dusty path. The pointed end had landed east.

“Looks like we’re going to Edo,” she announced with both hands on her hips.

“That’s… that’s how you deci-“

“You asked me,” the kitsune interrupted. “Now, let’s go. There will be plenty of people to help there.”

Edo wasn’t merely larger than Osaka. It was, unbeknownst to them, one of the largest cities in the world. Where Osaka was a place of merchants, Edo was a political center, home to daimyos and samurai. If the city lacked anything, it wasn’t people.

They had only traveled a few hours before Chiyo was hungry again. She eyed the bag at Shichi’s waist, remembering that Fumie had given them some provisions.

“No,” Shichi said before she could ask. “We need to save our food for emergencies — not snacks.”

“She said there was plenty in there!”

“This bag can’t even hold a cabbage — or this kit,” he insisted. He was still holding the box of sword cleaning materials in one hand. “How much food can possibly be in there?”

“Can we at least look?”

“All right,” he sighed, untying the bag from his belt. “Only a look.”

Chiyo hurriedly loosened the colored rope at the top, opening the bag to peer inside. For a moment, she said nothing, only staring at its contents.

“What’s wrong?” Shichi asked, uneasy at her silence. Without a word, the kitsune lifted her hand, placing it inside.

“Chiyo, I said only—“

Shichi stopped, gawking as her hand disappeared, followed by her arm. Soon, the bag had gone up to her shoulder.

“Ch-Chiyo, what is… how are you—“

“It’s huge!” she exclaimed, looking rather pleased for someone whose arm had disappeared. “There’s a whole week’s worth of food in here. And look, your acupuncture kit.”

A moment later, her hand reappeared, this time holding a wooden box. The monk could only stare.

“Oh, come on, you look like you’ve never seen magic before,” the kitsune smirked, waving the box at him.

“But how…? It barely weighs anything.”

“And you’re complaining?”

“Well, no, but—“

“Give me that kit. It’ll easily fit in here,” Chiyo said. “And maybe Aki’s sword, too…”

Sure enough, the sword slid inside up to the hilt, finally disappearing into the small bag.

“Hmm, I wonder…” she murmured, setting the bag down before returning to her fox form. It took the monk a moment to realize what she was attempting and he faltered before rushing to stop her.

“Chiyo, no! Get out of there!”

Despite the large store of food they had discovered, the tengu remained intent on using it only when absolutely necessary. Shichi couldn’t help but think back to the time he had nearly starved in the mountains of Shikoku — how he had resorted to eating pine needles and bark. He didn’t want it to happen again.

“All right, fine,” Chiyo snorted after his lecture. “I’ll go hunt.”

Shichi paused, realizing that his stinginess was about to lead to some poor animal’s death.

“Wait, in that case, maybe… just a little,” he started, but the fox had already darted off into the woods. He sighed, watching her tails vanish into the underbrush. He was alone.

The monk looked up at the trees, paying close attention to the subtle shifts of branches. The wind rustled the newly budded leaves, sending a clean fragrance through the air. The atmosphere was serene — now would be a good time to meditate. Settling at the base of a large cedar, he folded his hands and lowered his eyes. Recently, he’d had little time to meditate; his mind had become clouded with stresses and worries. His breath came in slowly, expanding his chest and allowing him to focus. The woods seemed silent as well, mimicking the peace in his mind.

After a moment, he realized that it wasn’t just his mind — the trees had gone silent. No longer could he hear the faint chirps of birds or the rustles of insects. It was as if the forest was holding its breath, afraid. Hesitantly, he glanced up.

A pair of eyes met his. A beast stood before him, covered in matted, silver fur. It was a cat, its body as large as an ox with claws like a bird of prey. The animal’s tail forked into two lengths, each of them swishing in agitation. It was staring him down, narrowing its eyes as it stepped closer. Despite its size, its feet made no sound over the dry forest floor.

Shichi had seen those eyes before — between trees and sideways glances. No, it hadn’t only been in the woods. He had seen them in Urameshiya. At the inn, however, the cat had appeared significantly smaller. It must have been capable of shapeshifting.

“I know you,” Shichi said evenly.

“Do not be so quick to presume, monk,” the animal hissed in a low, male voice. The fur on its scruff was standing on end, making its form seem even larger.

“Why have you been following us?”

“To find the right moment to kill you.”

“I hope you have a good reason to do so.”

“You are a monk,” the cat said with a sneer. “One fewer monk in the world will ease my heart.”

“Has a monk done you wrong?” Shichi asked. His hands remained folded in his lap, his fingers resting against his palm. He wondered what had happened to this poor beast — why its fur was in such poor condition and why its eyes, behind the glare, looked so empty.

“Enough. You ask too many questions.”

“Very well. If it will bring you peace, you may kill me,” the tengu replied simply. He had no intention of reliving his encounters with Zaisei.

“Don’t toy with me,” the cat snarled, drawing back its lips to reveal a row of pointed teeth. “What are you planning?”

“I’m not planning anything. Though my friend may return soon and I would rather you not fight her. If you could do it quickly, it would be appreciated.”

“Lies! Every word from your mouth… you must think I’m a fool.”

“I do not. Though I wonder…”

“What?” the cat growled, its teeth snapping together. Its eyes had widened in frustration and its claws had begun to dig into the soil.

“Your voice seems dry. When was the last time you used it?”

He was answered with silence. The nekomata’s eyes began to quiver, as if it might lose control and tear into him at any moment.

“You don’t remember,” Shichi continued.

The beast’s chest began to heave. Clouds of breath escaped its curled lips and its claws sunk deeper into the earth.

“You’re all alone,” he finished. “Aren’t you?”

An otherworldly screech filled the air. The nekomata’s head tossed, shaking away the monk’s words, grimacing beneath the weight of them.

“I’ll kill you!” it cried, its green eyes piercing into his. “I’ll kill you!”

There was a rustle of bushes before an enormous white shape bounded from the tree line. Dust rose around the kitsune’s feet as she skidded to a stop between them. The fox’s body had grown exponentially larger, her teeth bared and her sight set firmly on the raging nekomata.

“You’ll do no such thing,” Chiyo growled, her voice rumbling from deep within her throat. Rather than attack, the beast faltered, backing away from the other yokai. As it panted for air, Shichi could see the outlines of its ribs pressing against its skin. The two beasts stared at one another, silent aside from their breathing.

After a long moment, the nekomata yielded. It locked its gaze on Shichi, tightening the corners of its eyes before turning to retreat. Its body disappeared into the trees, leaving only dusty footprints in its wake.

“Shichi,” Chiyo said, turning to give the monk a similar glare. “What did you do this time?”

“Nothing,” he replied, staring at the spot where the cat had been. “I think.”