Book II 三 Part 03 (Egg)

Shichi could see a cat. It wasn’t a demon, nor a monster. It was a typical gray house cat with a single tail and large, green eyes. The feline was laying in a sunbeam beside an open door, paying no mind to the dust specks floating in the light. His coat was clean and smooth, highlighted by the early morning sun.

“Gin, you lazy thing,” came an older woman’s voice from the hall. Her feet stopped beside his head and she crouched to stroke the animal’s ears. The cat released a sleepy mewl, nudging beneath her palm.

“Father is ill again, so I need to go to the market,” she said, scratching beneath his chin. “You watch the house for me, all right?”

The cat didn’t respond, only stretching his legs before rolling over on the wooden floor.

“What a life,” she mused, smiling to herself before heading out the door. The sunlight intensified, filling Shichi’s vision until there was nothing but white. A moment later, he awoke.

A fire lay crackling a few feet away. Chiyo was crouched beside it, poking at the kindling with a stick.

“Good morning,” she said. “Sleep well?”

Shichi could have sworn that he’d dreamt something, but the memory was already slipping from his mind. He rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath of cool morning air.

“Yes, thank you,” he murmured, surprised that she’d woken before him. “You’re up early.”

“I was hungry.”

“You’re cooking?” the monk asked, eyeing the fire. “We’re supposed to save our food.”

“Don’t worry, I found an egg,” the kitsune said, gesturing to her side. Next to her knees lay an enormous egg, its shell a pale, speckled green.

“It’s as big as my head!” she added, rather pleased with her find.

“Oh, then—,” Shichi began, then instantly shot upright. His feathers were standing on end and the sleep had quickly faded from his voice. “W-wait! Chiyo, give me that!”

“Why?”

“That’s a tengu egg!” he blurted, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“…Oh,” Chiyo replied, glancing down at the egg. She cleared her throat, placing it into the monk’s open hands. It was probably a good thing she hadn’t started cooking it yet.

“Where did you find it?” Shichi snapped. The panic still hadn’t left his eyes.

“Just over there, through the bushes,” she said, gesturing behind him. Since the encounter with the nekomata, she had made a point not to stray too far from his side. “It was just sitting there.”

The tengu furrowed his brow, kneeling beside the fire and and carefully lifting the egg. He held the shell up beside the flame, scrutinizing it through the light. Luckily, the morning was still dark enough to give a hint of the egg’s contents. His eyes focused intently on the vague shapes within, taking note of the blood vessels.

“It’s hot,” he murmured.

“What?”

“Hot — it’s the word we use for a live egg,” he explained, already tugging open his jacket. Gingerly, he placed the egg inside, allowing it to rest between his body and the lining. “It needs to stay warm.”

“It would have been pretty warm in a frying pan,” she muttered, disappointed at the loss of her breakfast.

“Chiyo,” Shichi warned, narrowing his eyes before getting to his feet. He kept one hand low, holding the egg steady against his side.

“Where are you going?” she asked, turning to watch him march out of the clearing.

“The parents must be close,” he said. “You didn’t even try to find them, did you?”

The kitsune rose to follow him, dusting her knees before coming up to his side.

“Well, if I found them then I wouldn’t be able to eat it,” she answered, crossing her arms in annoyance.

At Shichi’s request, she returned to her fox form to make better use of her nose. Their pace was rushed as they followed the scent. He desperately hoped the parents hadn’t gone far — he wasn’t sure what he would do if left with abandoned egg. They didn’t go far through the trees before a spot of red caught the tengu’s eye. He stopped in his tracks, kneeling to examine the bright trail between the grass.

“It’s blood,” he said under his breath, looking up to see more spots leading ahead.

“This way,” Chiyo said, darting past him to follow the trail. It seemed the scent and blood belonged to the same person.

As they entered a clearing, Shichi could feel his chest seize. At the foot of a large tree lay a woman — a tengu woman. Blood stained her clothing, pooling over the moss below her. It was no mystery why; an arrow lay fixed in her collar, protruding straight from her heaving chest.

He hurried to her side, placing a hand on her shoulder as he examined the wound.

“Don’t move,” he said, taking note of how deep the arrow had gone and how much blood she had lost. There was more than one wound — it seemed she had attempted to remove another arrow on her own. The bloodied shaft lay discarded to the side, the head still embedded in her frame.

“Y-you found it,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “My egg.”

“It’s all right,” Shichi said, his voice gentle. “It’s here.”

Working quickly, he cut open the collar of her kimono, noticing the edge of the arrowhead. Something had stopped it from going deeper.

“It’s in the bone,” he whispered, his heart sinking. He didn’t have the equipment to remove it quickly. The other arrowhead had disappeared beneath her skin; it would take time to locate and extract it — time she didn’t have.

“Th-they’re taking our eggs,” she murmured, gazing up at the monk. “Please, keep it safe.”

Shichi returned her look, his eyes softening. The woman knew just as well as he did — she wasn’t going to make it. Even so, he continued tending her, doing his best to stop whatever bleeding he could.

“Who is?” he asked as he pressed a torn cloth over the wound.

“Hu… humans.”

Chiyo exchanged a look with him, her expression hardening with concern. If humans were stealing eggs, it was likely this woman wasn’t the only victim.

“I’m glad you’re here,” the woman said, her voice already starting to fade. “I didn’t want to die alone.”

For just a moment, the monk paused. He was sorry that it had to be a stranger by her side — that she couldn’t be in the company of loved ones in her last moments. She must have struggled terribly, hiding the egg before forcing herself to press on. Yet, despite her suffering, there was only warmth in her eyes.

“Tell me your name,” Shichi asked, taking her by the hand. Her fingers squeezed his palm, grateful for the contact.

“Mai,” the woman whispered. Her breath began to shudder and her back arched in pain.

“Mai,” he repeated, somehow managing to keep his voice even. “We’ll take care of your egg — I promise.”

“Thank you.”

“Where is the father? What is his name?”

At this, she faltered. Her eyes closed tightly, attempting to speak through the pain.

“Isamu,” she whispered, gripping his hand. “But he’s… y-you mustn’t—“

Her words trailed, fading into a soft exhale. Shichi could feel her fingers go limp against his own as her head dropped to the side. She was gone.

Shichi closed his eyes. The clearing was silent; no longer could he hear her pained breaths, nor did he feel her pulse on his hand. Once more, he had watched another of his kind die, unable to do a thing to stop it. All that was left of her was the egg inside the folds of his jacket. It was warm and solid, reminding him of the promise he had made.

“This way isn’t safe,” Chiyo said after the moment had passed. “We’ll have to take a detour.”

Shichi gave a slight nod, finally meeting her eyes. Though he wished to offer the proper rites, there would be no time to bury the woman.

“But first,” he said. “We have to find her village.”

“What? You heard her — she said we shouldn’t,” the fox said, narrowing her eyes. “It’s probably crawling with humans.”

“The father might still be alive. We have to at least try, unless you want to adopt this child,” Shichi said, lifting the egg to make his point. The kitsune snorted, her tails flopping in irritation. Without another word, she turned to follow another scent.

The trail led them up a steep slope, making the journey all the more difficult. It was to be expected — tengu usually lived in mountains. It had been a long time since Shichi had stepped foot in a tengu village. There was, however, no room for nostalgia in his mind. Something told him he may not like what they found.

“What scent are you following?” he asked, wondering just how keen her nose was.

“Smoke,” came her flat reply. He quieted, wishing that he hadn’t asked.

Using his staff to for balance, he followed the kitsune through the trees. The terrain grew rockier. It was only when his eyes caught a rising pillar of black that he knew they were close. His pace quickened, nearly slipping on the pebbles that lined the path. As they rounded a rock wall, the monk’s expression blanked, unable to look away from the sight before him.

At that moment, he could have sworn he could see his temple — its rafters burning and paint peeling with heat. The walls of the meditation hall were crumbling and the bodies of monks lay motionless in the courtyard. He could hear his friend Shusei whispering his name, his voice dry and weak. The scent of ash and blood sucked the air from Shichi’s chest, leaving him frozen in place.

“Shichi,” Chiyo said, snapping him out of his stupor. The tengu closed his eyes, shaking the memories from his mind. There was no temple here — it was a village.

Half of the structures had already collapsed, blackened and barely recognizable as homes. The others were still burning, sending columns of smoke into the morning sky. Even from a distance, Shichi could see the bodies of villagers scattered on the ground.

“No,” he whispered, unable to look away. Without thinking, he moved forward, continuing up the path to the town.

“Wait,” Chiyo hissed, using her human form to grab his arm. “It’s not safe.”

“We have to look for—“

Shichi’s words were interrupted by voices — human voices. One was shouting commands to the others; it seemed they were still looking for eggs.

“Shichi, run,” Chiyo said, tightening her grip as she pulled him back.

“But there might be—“

“Run!” she growled. “Before they see us!”

“I can’t,” the monk panted, his eyes still locked on the rising flames. “I can’t leave them.”

“You saw it yourself. They’re dead — they’re all dead.”

Shichi could feel his spine weakening. Perhaps it was the smoke, but it was becoming difficult to breathe. His throat was raw, burning with every breath.

“If we don’t leave now, you’re going to join them,” Chiyo continued, her eyes tightening as she spoke.

The kitsune didn’t give him time to respond. She wrenched him backwards, pulling Shichi past the rock wall out of sight. Luckily, she was much stronger than he was. Their feet swept over stone and moss, their breath short as they hurried back down the mountainside. The monk was silent, saying nothing as the village disappeared in the distance. Soon, he could no longer smell smoke, nor could he see the cloud of black that had lingered above.

By the time they stopped running, the sun had risen higher in the sky. Shichi collapsed against a tree, gasping for air and fighting the pain in his lungs. His knees seemed to liquify and he slid to the ground beside the trunk. One hand held the tree for support, the other still cradling the egg at his side.

“We… we should be safe now,” Chiyo panted, leaning forward on her knees.

Shichi remained quiet, only opening his jacket to take the egg in both hands. His shoulders rose and fell with his labored breaths, but all he could focus on was the egg. Carefully, he checked it for damage, running his fingers over the shell. Satisfied that it was intact, he clutched it back to his chest.

“Are you okay?” Chiyo asked, noticing his silence. His eyes were glazed and his motions stilted. Shichi gave a single nod in response, still not making eye contact with the kitsune.

“What are you going to do with it?” the kitsune asked, crouching beside him.

“We’ll have to find another village — someone to adopt it,” he said, his voice flat.

“Then where’s the nearest tengu village?”

“I don’t know,” Shichi replied, his posture weakening. “Not anymore.”

“Well, don’t worry,” Chiyo said with a nod. “We’ll find one.”

He finally looked at her, grateful for her words. There had been a time when his kind were plentiful, when living in the mountains was enough to keep them safe and secluded. Now, it seemed that every town he knew had fallen at the hands of men. He could only hope that his own village was still safe. It had been years since he had seen his family — but that was the way of a monk.

Wearily, Shichi let his eyes fall back onto the egg in his hands. It was smooth against his palms, its pale green surface flecked with brown. He wondered if it would look like its mother — if the child would have the same warmth in its eyes.

“I hope you’re right.”