Book II 十六 Part 16 (Yuu)

At first, Shichi found himself unable to move. The strength of the girl’s voice mirrored her grip. A complete stranger was commanding him, attempting to control his very future to sate an absurd fascination. He had gladly taken orders in the past, from those he trusted, from places of honor. Yet, in Hime’s voice, there was only greed.

A sharp breath brought Shichi clarity, returning the body to his voice. “No.”

“No?” Hime gave the tengu a caustic glare. “What do you mean, ‘no?’’

He straightened himself, twisting his arm free from the tangle of her fingers.

“No, I will not stay,” he said. “I am not a possession to be kept. I’m sorry that you feel lonely, but you will have to resolve that on your own.”

Shichi reached for his hat, his thoughts focusing on his human form. It would be a simple matter of changing back and excusing himself. Chiyo would surely scold him for taking so long, but her voice would be a welcome change from Hime’s. Before his thoughts could center, however, a terrible sound broke his concentration.

It was a scream.

He whipped his head back, catching sight of the shrieking girl. Her hands clenched the bedcover and her face had paled in distress. Before he could even open his mouth, the door clacked open. Footsteps hammered across the floor as her guards rushed in. Shichi reached for his shakujo, his ears ringing with the sound of steel blades slipping from sheaths. His hand never touched the staff. A weight hit him, crushing him against the tatami and forcing the breath from his lungs. A guard had pinned him, his sword glinting as it arced above the tengu’s throat.

“Stop!”

The katana froze. All heads drifted toward the girl, her knuckles strained and her eyes wet with crocodile tears.

“Don’t kill him.” She shook her head furiously. “I want to keep him.”

“My lady,”said the guard, his brow creased in concern. “Tengu are dangerous. I cannot—“

“Let him go!” Her voice was shrill, even more so than before.

Shichi was paralyzed under the man’s grip, his arms twisted backward and his ribs grinding into the floor. Black feathers littered the room, motionless as the man considered her orders. After a moment, he loosened his hold. With his chest free to expand, Shichi gasped in his next few breaths. Slowly, he pushed himself upright. When he found the courage to look, he could see Hime staring straight into his eyes.

“That’s better.” She gestured toward a chest of drawers. Immediately, a guard retrieved an item from a lower drawer. He brought it to her bedside, his head low as he placed it in her hands. It was a curious trinket, a silver loop with a latch on one end. The moment Shichi realized what it was, however, it was already too late. She had snapped the collar around his neck with a heavy click.

“I don’t—“

“I’m sorry it’s not very pretty,” Hime said with a frown. “But this is a special collar. I bought it from a shaman.”

“Special?” he said, his eyes wide.

“It will keep you from shapeshifting. I was saving it for a kitsune, but I think a tengu is much better.”

He immediately reached for the latch. His fingers slipped over the fastening as he struggled to free himself, but it was no use. It was locked.

Shichi’s breath hitched. “The key.”

“Don’t worry about the key. You belong to me now,” she said.

“No person belongs to another.”

This made her smile. Hime’s voice softened, as if speaking to a poor, foolish child.

“But you’re not a person,” she said. Shichi’s eyes tensed, his throat locking up at her words. He had felt it before, the sense that he was lesser, that he was of a race of monsters. To hear it, from a human, from the mouth of a young girl, only roused the bitterness he had spent years suppressing.

Shichi swallowed. Hime was only a child. Her interactions with others, with the outside world, were limited. He would not allow himself to detest her.

“Put him away for the night.” Hime waved her hand at the guards. “I’d like to sleep before I play with him.”

Two sets of hands found the tengu’s arms, hoisting him upright before he could protest. His feet scuffed the floor as they led him out, but he knew it was no use. He couldn’t escape these men — not yet.

“Oh, and if he gets away,” she said as they crossed the threshold. “I’ll tell father.”

With those words, the door shut, leaving him once more at the mercy of human hands.

When he had first arrived at the jinya, Shichi’s focus had been on his patient. Now, his eyes scanned the layout of the villa. He was led through several halls and doors, each of which he committed to memory. Though Hime had forbidden him from “getting away,” he had every intention of doing just that.

He was pushed out into the courtyard. Clouds had covered the moon and a light drizzle was settling over the stone walkway. He glanced at the perimeter wall. Thoughts of scaling the barrier were cut short as the sound of growls stole his attention. The dogs he had noticed earlier were snarling, their eyes following the tengu’s every step. Shichi’s confidence wavered. Guard dogs would certainly complicate his breakout.

They pulled him through the garden toward an old chashitsu. The tea house was minute, smaller than a common hut and worn with age. The host entrance had been boarded up and most of the paper windows had been covered with wooden panels. It seemed to have once been a beautiful structure, but had since fallen into a state of disuse.

As they reached the building, one man brusquely felt over the monk’s hips and sleeves. He found the satchel, wrenching it from the belt and tossing it to another man.

“Put it with his staff,” he said. “And don’t open it, it might be cursed.”

The skin over Shichi’s knuckles tensed. He cared little for the provisions within, but the bag had one thing he could not bear to lose. Aki’s sword was still inside.

The guard knelt by the guest entrance, sliding open the tiny door. They shoved the tengu’s head down, forcing him into the low opening. His body toppled to the floor and he’d hardly looked back before the door snapped shut behind him. The latch closed with a creak of rusted metal.

“Please don’t do this,” Shichi said through the door.

“Don’t worry, she’ll lose interest in you eventually,” came the voice of a guard. “Then we can kill you like the last one.”

Shichi swallowed. “The last one?”

“It was a kappa.”

The guard said nothing else. Shichi could hear the men go, their footsteps fading as they left the garden. Soon, the only sound left was that of rain.

Slowly, the monk pushed himself upright. He scanned the room, its floor only large enough for three tatami. The straw mats were scuffed and, in one corner, had started to grow mold. The little structure felt somehow familiar. Thoughts of Kana, the first human he had ever met, flashed through his mind. He remembered the storehouse. The building had been so small, yet had carried so many memories. She had shown him, in their moments together, the good side of humankind.

Now, he was once again seeing the bad.

Shichi touched his forehead, attempting to shift his line of thought. He would waste no more time on self-pity. Straining to see in the dim room, he began to feel the walls and ledges for a weak spot. Neither the guest nor host doors would budge. The windows had been sealed and only faint strips of lamplight leaked in through the slats. He traced his hands over the sill, noticing an exposed portion of paper screen near the floor. His palm slipped through, greeted by heavy raindrops and brisk air. Unfortunately, the cut wasn’t large enough for his arm, not to mention the rest of his body. He withdrew his hand with a sigh.

Shichi’s pulse began to rise in frustration. The tea house was perfectly sealed. It hadn’t been conveniently left in this state, nor had it been boarded up for aesthetic purposes. It was a prison. He began to wonder just how many souls Hime had kept captive there, and how many had perished in waiting.

He slumped against the wall, remembering that Chiyo and Gin were still out there. Though the fox had a superb sense of smell, the jinya was far from the market. The town had been full of travelers and food stalls, carrying many more scents than a simple forest. He wondered if she or Gin would be able to find him, or if he would remain trapped in the custody of the human girl.

Closing his eyes, Shichi fixated on the sound of falling rain. No matter how difficult it might be, or how long it took, he would find a way. This would not be the end of his journey.

It was morning when they brought him back into the house. He hadn’t slept. Though his eyes were heavy, he would not allow himself to look weak. He kept his back straight as they seated him at a long table in an vast dining room. Only Hime was sitting across from him, her eyes bright with anticipation.

“You look hungry,” she said.

Shichi said nothing, only watching her impassively.

“It must have been hard to find food out in the wild.” Hime toyed with her long, dark hair. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

“That isn’t necessary,” Shichi said, unmoving.

“You just don’t know any better. You’ll see, eventually. You need me.”

Before he could interject, the doors slid open. Two servants entered, both carrying wide trays of food. Shichi’s eyes snapped open. It wasn’t the lavish presentation of the dishes that caught his attention, nor was it the alluring smell of cooked food. The meal itself went ignored as he focused on one servant, a young woman in a cream kimono.

She was a tengu.

Her head hung low as she placed the dishes in proper order on the table. Hime had continued talking, but not a single word went noticed by the monk. He couldn’t look away, unable to believe he was watching a tengu serving humans. Her golden eyes were focused — too focused. It seemed she was struggling to concentrate on her task. For a brief moment, her eyes flickered toward him. He barely had a second to catch her gaze before she’d looked away once more.

“Oh, are you jealous of Yuu?” Hime asked. This finally caught Shichi’s attention.

“What?”

“Don’t feel that way,” the girl said. “She’s just one of father’s servants. You’re special — you’re mine.”

Shichi thought back to the previous night, when Hime had claimed that she’d never seen a tengu before. It seemed she had lied. Had this tengu willingly come to work for the daikan, or had she been forced?

Shichi folded his hands on his lap. “As I said before, I am not yours.”

“Yes, you are. My cousin in Nagoya got a set of cranes as a gift and she won’t stop talking about them. But now I have you. I think a tengu is much better than two old birds, don’t you?”

As Hime continued speaking, Shichi dared another glance at the serving girl — Yuu. Though only a house attendant, it seemed she had been made up to be pleasing to the eye. Her feathers were smooth and well-groomed, and thick lashes hooded her eyes.

“You think she’s pretty, don’t you?” Once again, Hime had caught him staring.

Shichi exhaled. “That’s not—“

“Forget her. There’s something wrong with Yuu — she won’t even lay eggs. Father likes the way she sings, but I don’t think she has a very nice voice.”

The servant stiffened in embarrassment, turning away to hide her face.

“You should be kinder to your attendants,” Shichi said.

“I told you not to worry about her.” Hime pointed to the doors, her fingers tightly clenched. “Yuu. Leave.”

The tengu obeyed immediately, giving a deep bow before hurrying out of the room. Something about the exchange left Shichi feeling ill and he glanced toward the door with regret. Luckily, Hime was now focused on their meal.

“Go on, eat.”

Shichi kept his eyes on the wooden table, trying to ignore the many dishes spread over it. Steam drifted over bowls of hot soup and there were plates of rolled egg and horse mackerel. A rainbow of pickled vegetables had been cut into slices and set into countless little bowls, covering the surface of the table. He had never seen such an opulent breakfast.

“Eat,” she said once more, her tone growing heavier. He remained silent, ignoring the twist of his stomach. Though he had been raised not to waste food, he couldn’t bring himself to follow her commands. Eating now would mean accepting her terms — agreeing to the place she had given him.

“Fine. Be ungrateful.” Hime gestured to the remaining servant, the same bald man from the day before. “Put him away until dinner. Maybe he’ll be hungry then.”

The servant led Shichi back into the hall, leaving the girl to her breakfast.

“So,” the man said once they were alone. “Are you really a physician, or was that just a cover?”

Shichi shook his head. “I’m not the one who lied.”

“So you can heal?”

“I can.”

“Good,” the servant said. “You must have heard the mistress talking about Yuu. Can you find out what’s wrong with her — why she doesn’t lay eggs?”

Shichi stifled his reaction. “I suppose I could.”

“Then follow me.”

He was taken to the servant’s quarters, a narrow building behind the main hall. The structure was modest in comparison, built with plain, dark wood and lacking in decor. They walked through a narrow corridor with a half dozen doors, finally stopping at the entrance to a small room.

The man gestured for him to enter. “Make it quick.”

Shichi nodded, then stepped inside.

The room was sparse, with no tatami to cover the floors, nor any furnishings for adornment. Yuu was seated on the floor, her hands occupied with a needle and thread.  She glanced up at his entry, her hands freezing over the cloth she had been sewing. The feathers on her neck had risen and, at first, she could only stare. It seemed that visitors were an uncommon occurrence.

“Forgive my intrusion.” Shichi bowed his head before lowering himself at her side. Still, she said nothing, only watching him with wide eyes.

Shichi rubbed the back of his head, hoping that he wasn’t disturbing her. “I’m a doctor. I was asked to check your health.”

“Oh. I see,” she said. Her voice was soft and low, nearly a whisper.

“If you’d like me to leave—“

“No,” Yuu said, then tightly shut her eyes. She took a deep breath through her nostrils, then continued. “I’m sorry, I’m being rude. You’re just…”

Shichi’s eyes softened as he waited for her to finish.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen another tengu.”

“Then I should be the one to apologize,” Shichi said. “I’m not much to look at.”

She laughed, attempting to cover her beak with her sleeve. It was a simple reaction, yet he could sense some of her tension lifting.

“Your name is Yuu, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said, her expression easing. “And what may I call you?”

“Shichi. May I ask how you came to be here?”

“I was collected when I was young. Usually they only take eggs, but they liked my singing voice.”

His expression fell at her words. Shichi’s hands clenched, his claws digging into his own palms.

“…Collected?”

Yuu squinted at him, analyzing his reaction. “You don’t know?”

He could only shake his head. Visions ran through his mind, of flames and soldiers, of men collecting eggs. He hadn’t grasped why humans would want to take them, but now a new picture was being painted in his head.

“They usually wait to see if a hatchling has any skill with a sword. Those are sold as bodyguards. Others, like me, become servants.”

“That’s slavery,” Shichi said, his mouth suddenly dry.

“After the daimyo banned slavery of humans, I suppose they turned to us instead.”

“Have you tried to escape?”

Yuu’s expression shifted to shame and she averted her eyes for a moment. “No.”

“But you—“

“Enough about me,” she said. “Hime thinks you’re her pet. You’re in a more dangerous position than I.”

Yuu’s eyes were grim, locked onto his as she spoke. It became apparent she was not teasing.

“I’m still planning my escape.” Shichi’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “The dogs will make it difficult.”

“I can—“

There was a brief pounding on the door frame, startling both tengu upright. It seemed the servant had returned. “Are you nearly finished?”

“Ah, just another moment.”

“I told you to make it quick.”

Shichi looked back at the tengu before him, his brow drawn back in apology.

“We’ll have to discuss that later. I still need to check on you.”

Yuu looked suddenly shy, dropped her gaze to the floor. “All right.”

With practiced movements, he set to checking her pulse, tongue, and vitals. Her feathers had risen once more; it seemed she was unaccustomed to being touched.

“Well, you seem to be perfectly healthy,” he said. “How long has it been since you’ve had an egg?”

“I’ve… ah, never,” she said, then cleared her throat.

“Would you mind if I did a more thorough exam?”

Yuu swallowed audibly, her eyes tightening as she stared back at him.

“If you’d rather not, I don’t—“

“It’s all right.” She shook her head a bit too quickly. “I don’t mind.”

Shichi raised a brow at her terse response. He supposed it was natural for her to be nervous, as she had spent the majority of her life away from other tengu. It seemed her keepers had never bothered bringing her to a human doctor, as well.

Slowly, she unfastened her kimono, allowing the collar to drape past her shoulders. As the cloth drifted over her chest, she paused. Yuu’s eyes flickered from his face to her clothing, then back again. She sucked in her next breath, then finally hurried to close the fabric back over her chest.

“I’m sorry, I—“

“It’s all right.” Shichi held up his hands. “You don’t have to.”

“No, you don’t understand, it’s not that,” she said. “I don’t care if you touch me. You can touch me all you want.”

Shichi blinked at her and she stammered in response.

“No, no. I mean— that’s not—“ Yuu fisted her hands and took a moment to gather herself. “It would be a waste of time. I already know why I can’t lay eggs.”

“You do?”

Her posture lost its vigor and she resigned herself to a slump. She lowered her head, still clutching the collar of her kimono.

“There was a bit more to my story,” she said weakly. “When they captured me, they asked if I was a boy or a girl. I said I was a girl.”

He remained silent, only watching her struggle with her next words.

Yuu closed her eyes. “I lied.”

“Why?” Shichi asked.

“Because it felt right.” Her voice was shaking. “Because that was the answer I’d always wanted to give. Humans have trouble telling the difference.”

As he opened his beak to speak once more, the door was thrust open. Their time was up. Yuu’s attention snapped to Shichi’s face, her eyes wide with panic.

“Please don’t tell,” she said in a hurried whisper. “Please—“

“Well?” the servant asked as he allowed himself in. “Did you figure out the problem?”

Shichi tore his eyes from her gaze, giving the man a nod. “I did.”

“So what’s wrong with her?”

“Her reproductive system didn’t develop properly. Yuu is unable to produce eggs, but she is otherwise healthy.”

“I see,” the servant said. “I’ll inform her keeper. You need to get back to the tea house, you’ve been out long enough already.”

Shichi stood, following the man past the threshold of the tiny room. Before he could pass the door, he glanced one last time at Yuu. She said nothing, her eyes glassy as she looked back. Shichi gave her a brief nod, then disappeared into the hallway. Though he was bound for his meager prison in the garden, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of comfort. He had seen one good thing in the jinya, and he would do everything in his power to make sure he saw her again.