二十五 Part 25 (Furubashi)

The tanuki remained true to her word. Soon after Shichi had treated her son, new patients began to arrive at Urameshiya in search of the tengu physician. He was visited by a variety of yokai, from a kappa with the flu to a floating lantern with an eye infection. The first week there were two visitors, and the next, five. When Shichi began to wonder just how many yokai the city actually housed, he learned that several of them had traveled from quite a distance for treatment. Finally, the day came that there was a line of individuals waiting to see him. It was a small line, boasting a mere three souls, but it was a line nonetheless.

To Chiyo’s annoyance, their shared room was more often used as an infirmary than as a place to rest. The drawers that had once stored her newly bought clothing had been cleared out for herb storage. Bandages, needles, and blankets were placed on the shelves, flanked by neatly organized bowls and strainers. Though payment was never required, several of his patients had insisted on donating to his cause. The modest accumulation of coins had immediately been spent on supplies, as well as herbs that he could not grow on his own. For the moment, the room was occupied by an oni, his height nearly matching Chiyo’s despite the fact that he was seated.

“Prepare this in a tea twice a day,” Shichi said, offering the red-skinned yokai a sachet of powdered herbs. “It will help with the pain and inflammation.”

“What is it?” the oni asked, doing his best not to touch his swollen foot. He had come to the doctor with a bad case of gout, his big toe inflated to the size of a fist.

“It’s a mixture of turmeric and ginger. But that won’t be enough. You can’t drink like you used to, and I would avoid organ meats. Gout can return if you’re not careful.”

“But I love sake,” the oni said with the grace of a spoiled child. “And liver.”

“Well, if you love them more than walking, then by all means . . .”

“Fine,” came a gritty reply. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” Shichi said with a pleasant nod. “You can do it—I know you can.”

Despite his supportive words, Shichi had his doubts; oni were not famous for self-control. He saw his patient out, making a laughable attempt to support the enormous man as he limped through the door. Once they were alone, Chiyo groaned dramatically.

“Argh, it smells like oni feet in here.” She slapped both hands to her face in frustration. “Am I going to have to get my own room?”

“Sure, if you want to pay for it.”

Chiyo shot the monk a look. Their room was provided solely through Shichi’s work around the inn. He knew without a doubt that the kitsune would rather put up with a few inconveniences than actually perform labor herself. While she did have a thick purse of coins remaining, her priorities clearly lay with trinkets and snacks.

“Shichi, there’s a nekomata next in line,” Fumie said, her head peeking in through the open door. There was no telling where her body was.

“I’ll be ready in a moment,” he replied, placing a few herbs back into their respective drawers. “Oh, and before I forget . . .”

“Yes?”

“Please don’t let Iwao have any more sake, no matter how much he begs. And try to limit his meat.”

“The poor fellow,” Fumie said. “He does spend quite a bit of money on drinks.”

Shichi paused at her words, realizing his instructions were robbing her of income. Not only that, but he had taken advantage of the room she had offered and had turned it into his own personal clinic on her second floor. Not once had they discussed the consequences of his activities, nor had they set any terms regarding the space.

“Ah, Fumie. I want to apologize. I never formally asked you permission to have patients come through here.”

“Don’t be sorry!” the innkeeper said with a cheerful tilt of her head—the only body language she was currently capable of. “To be honest, you’re bringing in a lot of business—especially the ones who stay the night. I’m glad you can use this old inn to help people.”

Shichi looked back at her for a moment. It was hard to believe that, after all of the difficulties he’d grown accustomed to, he’d come across someone so generous—someone whose kindness was genuine, who truly cared for the customers that came through her inn. He gave her a grateful nod, and then turned to prepare for his next patient.

#

After a day of swollen toes, cat mucous, and garden dirt, Shichi was more than ready for a bath. He waited until the last few patrons had finished before making his way through the garden. Though bathing had been a communal activity in his temple, he found himself longing for a moment to himself. At Kurohane, he’d been able to spend time in the woods gathering herbs, occasionally finding quiet moments on the roof or garden. The inn, however, was always full of people. It was noisy and active, with the laughter of yokai filling the air and seeping through the walls. He visualized it as he walked—hot, clean water, and perfect silence. It was a blissful thought.

Once inside, Shichi scrubbed himself thoroughly. He focused on his hands and arms, not wanting any traces of his work left behind. Since coming to Urameshiya, his feathers had regained their strength and sheen, looking far more pleasant than they had in the woods. It seemed that regular meals, rest, and a sense of purpose were quite helpful in maintaining their black luster. Once clean, he sank into the deep wooden tub, letting the hot water rise all the way to his collar. His moment, however, was shattered by the sound of an opening door.

Shichi suppressed a cringe. It was probably too much to hope for—solitude, in a place such as this. He could hear the newcomer’s footsteps behind him and found himself dreading the conversation that was bound to follow. Yet, oddly, the dialogue never came. There was a pregnant pause as the steps came to a stop. Something was wrong.

Overcome by curiosity, he dared a glance backward. His eyes immediately widened, his chest rising with a sharp intake of air. In an instant, he turned back, locking his gaze on the water and trying to forget what he’d just seen.

It was Aki. He was suddenly quite glad that he was already submerged in the water; the last thing he needed was to be mentally and physically vulnerable. In the split second he’d looked, he could already see her terrible glare, wordlessly daring him to speak. For a moment he wondered why she wasn’t simply leaving, but he soon realized the obvious—she was too proud to let his presence dictate her actions. If she had chosen to bathe now, then she would bathe now; not even an irritating monk could stop her.

A moment later, he could hear her pick up a bucket as she began to clean herself. He felt that he should say something, but nothing sensible came to mind. It sure is cold outside. So, do you bathe often? Do you hate me any less today, or still about the same amount?

It was almost amusing to him, when he thought about it. He had sought out the bath in order to find comfort yet had landed himself in the most uncomfortable situation he could possibly imagine. He closed his eyes, making an attempt to simply pretend she wasn’t there.

It didn’t work. He could still hear her—he could practically feel her contempt drilling into the back of his head. He had to say something. The longer he waited, the more awkward it would be when one of them finally did speak.

Just as he opened his beak, however, she spoke up instead.

“Are you almost finished?”

“I just got in,” Shichi said without thinking. He cursed inwardly. It would have been a perfect opportunity to excuse himself, yet he had to go and be mindlessly honest. He dragged his hand over his face, wondering if the steam was muddling his thoughts.

“Oh.”

“If you’d prefer to be alone, I can come back later,” he said. She was quiet for a bit, seemingly struggling with her reply.

“Do whatever you want.”

Shichi sighed.

“Listen,” he said, keeping his eyes shut as he spoke. “It wasn’t my intention to upset you earlier. It’s not my place to judge you.”

“You’re right,” Aki said as she rinsed herself. “It’s not.”

Shichi bit back a smart remark, reminding himself to stay civil. “It wasn’t entirely true. You do remind me of her, at times.”

“Tch,” was the only reply he received.

“For instance, both of you have dazzling charismas.”

To his surprise, she laughed. It was rather curt and almost devious in tone, but it was still a laugh. He supposed this was an improvement from the silence, or being threatened while pinned to the floor—but just barely.

From behind him, he could hear her set the bucket down. She approached the squared tub, smoothing back the feathers on her head before stepping over the edge. Shichi averted his eyes as she entered, only looking back when he was certain she was submerged across from him. It was strange, these tense formalities he found himself going through in her presence. Growing up, male and female monks had bathed together without a second thought. This, however, was decidedly different.

“Did she ever tell you about the battle?” Aki asked, still reserved in her speech. She sunk lower in the water, her form clouded by the thick steam.

“Perhaps. She wasn’t very fond of storytelling, though,” he said, shaking his head. “Which village was it?”

“Furubashi.”

Shichi thought for a moment. The name was familiar—troublingly familiar. For some reason, hearing it made him anxious, causing his skin to prickle uncomfortably. Then, he remembered.

“But . . . that village was destroyed,” he said. He had never seen Furubashi in person. It had been the closest village to his temple, just on the other side of the mountain—but by the time he’d joined, it had already been lost.

At first, Aki didn’t respond. She looked down at the ripples in the water, motionless as she thought. Finally, she murmured a reply.

“ . . . she should have killed them.”

Shichi could feel the blood draining from his face. His mouth parted, speechless as he put the pieces together. The humans must have returned. Even after being defeated, even after failing, they had attacked the village again. If the monks had not spared their lives, then perhaps her home would still be standing.

He swallowed, feeling a strange bout of shame.

“I’m sorry,” he said, so soft that he could barely be heard. “I had no idea.”

Aki said nothing, merely watching her own reflection.

“I know how you feel,” Shichi said, though he wished that he didn’t.

“You have no idea how I feel.” The water sloshed as she sat upright. “How could you?”

“I suppose you hadn’t heard . . . Kurohane is gone as well.”

Aki was cowed, unable to blink as she took in the meaning of his words.

“That’s . . . that’s not possible,” she said, her breath short. “The monks of Kurohane are peerless warriors.”

“They were.” Shichi finally looked up at her. “We had such a long period of peace that new monks had no interest in combat, including me. Our best guards eventually died of old age. My master was the last of them.”

“Did she . . . ?” Aki asked, swallowing the end of her sentence.

“She and I were the only survivors.”

Aki’s posture eased, the stiffness leaving her shoulders as she sunk back into the water. “Then why isn’t she with you now?”

Shichi considered her question for a moment. Somehow, it made him realize just how much he missed his mentor. Since leaving her, his thoughts had been crowded with survival and purpose. It was only at quiet times like these that he stopped to listen to the ache in his heart. Sagiri had raised him from childhood. Everything he knew, and every value that he so passionately followed, had been instilled by his master. Even after all of his mistakes and lies, she hadn’t given up on him. If she were present, his life would be immeasurably easier—and that was exactly why she had sent him away. If he was to grow, it would have to be on his own.

“My path parted from hers,” Shichi said, hoping Aki wouldn’t notice the pain in his voice.

“I see.”

“And what about you?” he asked. “What led you to this?”

“If by ‘this’ you mean being a bandit, I don’t think you want to hear that story.”

“We’ve spent enough time talking about Sagiri. I want to know about you.”

This surprised the other tengu, and she paused, taking the moment to weigh her options. The room was hazy with heat and vapor, making time seem to slow between them.

“I was still young when it happened,” she finally said, dropping her gaze. “I’d gotten into a fight with my mother, so I was off in the woods when they attacked. When I came home, it was already over. There were only a few survivors—the eldest was a boy, the youngest of the village guards and the most skilled with a sword. He trained us until we were ready.”

“Ready for what?” Shichi asked hesitantly.

“For our revenge, of course.”

Shichi said nothing; the last time he had judged her, it had ended rather poorly. This was the point where their stories lost similarity. Both he and Aki had experienced terrible loss at the hands of humans, yet she had chosen a different way of coping.

“And did it satisfy you?” Shichi asked, his voice faint among the sound of water droplets.

“I killed the ones who took my home—with my own hands. Nothing could be more satisfying.”

Shichi could think of a few things but kept them to himself. “And yet, you continue to kill.”

Aki gave a light snort, turning her attention away to smooth back the crest atop her head. “I can’t help it if they keep breeding.”

“Then tell me,” he said. “When will you be satisfied?”

She turned back to him, her golden eyes narrowed behind the foggy air. “Humans will never change. And I will never be satisfied.”

“I’m sorry,” Shichi said. “That sounds rather lonely.”

“And what would you know of loneliness? You spend every waking hour with your mate,” Aki said, making a dismissive hand gesture.

“My what?” he said, picking up his head.

“Your mate. That good-for-nothing kitsune.”

“Kit . . . kitsune?” His eyes widened dramatically. A laugh made its way up his throat, coming out in an incredulous choke. It was such a sudden action that he began to cough, placing a hand on his chest as he caught his breath.

“What?” she asked, brow raised.

“No,” Shichi said, waving both hands at her. “No, no. She’s not—”

“But you two share a room. Don’t you ever—” she said, raising her hands to made a crude gesture.

“No!” he cried before she could complete it. “Absolutely not!”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m a monk! A monk. And she’s just a friend.”

“Oh, a monk. Right,” Aki said, her expression shifting to something more furtive. “Then I suppose this won’t do anything for you?”

As her sentence finished, Shichi could feel her leg brush against his, causing him to bump against the wall of the tub in a panic.

“S-stop that!” Shichi’s face heated as he scrambled back. His embarrassment only deepened when he heard her snicker, clearly amused with his reaction. There was an irritating sense of delight in her laugh, and he glared at her, still panting for air.

“Too easy,” she said with a self-satisfied glint in her eyes.

“Maybe you and Chiyo should share a room,” he said, squinting at her. “I think you two would get along splendidly.”

“Perhaps we should.” The bandit leaned an elbow on the ledge of the tub. “It would be better than sharing a room with a couple—especially this time of year.”

Shichi cringed, remembering that Rinka and Kazu were a pair. Winter was a special season for tengu and he did not envy Aki’s accommodations. Feeling uneasy with the direction their conversation was going, he cleared his throat.

“Ah, your wound looks nearly healed. How does it feel?” he asked, daring a glance at her body.

“It’s fine. Perhaps Sagiri trained you after all.”

Deciding to let her backhanded compliment slide, he gave a simple nod in return. “And what about the one who trained you? Where is he now?”

Almost immediately, Shichi could sense he had said something wrong. Aki’s expression fell—a mixture of pining and anger filled her eyes as she was forced to remember something unwanted. Her voice came forth like ice, each word slow and frigid.

“He’s gone.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, wishing he’d have put more thought into his words.

“Don’t be,” Aki said bitterly. Without warning, she straightened herself, placing her hands on the edge of the tub as she climbed out. “I’m going to have a drink before bed. Are you finished?”

He looked away as quickly as he was able to. “I . . . think I’ll stay a bit longer. Sleep well.”

“Very well. Good night,” she said, wrapping her body as she stepped through the door. He waited until she as gone, and then sighed.

Now that he was finally alone, he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to be.