Aoi put her hand to her mouth.
“But that’s not the half of it. In this district much worse things are happening.”
“What?”
“Didn’t you hear about the demon?”
“You mean the story about the demon that rode through Higashi village?”
“It’s not a story. I talked to someone who saw the demon. It had fierce eyes, a twisted mouth, blood-red skin, flowing white hair, and two horns, like this.” Kaze brought his two fists up to his forehead, using his little fingers to indicate tiny horns growing out of his head. “It was awful. A truly bad omen. It was riding a big black stallion, and people say lightning flashed as the horse’s hooves struck the earth. It was out gathering victims and had the soul of an adult strapped across his horse, carrying the poor man to hell.”
“Honto? Truly?”
Kaze nodded gravely. Then he sighed. “It’s a terrible time. This is the wrath of heaven. Under the Taiko we had peace, but the Tokugawas have started their reign with the death of thirty thousand or more. That’s just at one battle: Sekigahara. Think how many more have died and will die soon. The Tokugawas are hunting down all who oppose them and killing them. All that blood! All those souls crying out for vengeance! All those ghosts wandering the land, unable to find rest because of their violent end. No wonder demons are now abroad in our country.”
“Are demons worse than kappa?”
“Of course. You can kill a kappa and you can protect your children by keeping them away from water and damp places. But demons can go everywhere and they can’t be killed. They will break down the door of a hut if they want the person inside. As demons start snatching souls, one by one, other ghosts and monsters will be stirred up. It wouldn’t surprise me to see dragons and other hideous creatures wandering the land. It will simply get worse and worse until the spirits of all the dead are appeased through the sacrifice of the living.”
“You’ve seen such things?”
Kaze’s pleasure at spinning tales was momentarily clouded by the memory of his encounter with the obake of the Lady. “Yes,” he said darkly.
Aoi was no fool. She had long since learned to distrust men and their pronouncements. But the way this samurai affirmed his contact with the supernatural sent chills up her spine. She stared at his tight lips and set jaw. She looked into dark eyes that seemed to know something that stretched beyond the parameters of this life and extended into the period between incarnations. She froze, uncertain about what to do next. Finally, she whispered, “Honto? Is that true?”
As if returning from a dream, Kaze’s eyes refocused and looked at the frightened woman. It was what he was trying to achieve, and now it was no longer fun. “Honto,” he said.
“What can we do?” Aoi said, her eyes wide.
Kaze shrugged, finishing the sake in his cup. “I don’t know. I simply report what I know to be true. In fact, there are rumors that dragon tracks have been spotted in the next district. Once dragons take over a district, there is nothing to do but leave or be eaten.”
Aoi, who had been perched attentively on her calves, collapsed to the side, sitting despondently with anxiety and fear. “What can we do?” she asked once more.
“I don’t know,” Kaze said. “No one has the answers for such terrible times. Under the Taiko we had relative peace and stability. The Taiko had his failed Korean adventure, but at home we did not have wars and we had order. Now with the Tokugawas our entire social order is upset. Their government extends its control into every aspect of the land, usurping rights that are not theirs. It’s even rumored that Ieyasu will declare himself Shogun.” Kaze paused, then sighed. “Do you know what I’m talking about?” he asked, not unkindly.
Aoi shook her head no. To her, talk of the rulers of Japan was like talk of the Gods. They were remote and mystical figures. The talk of ghosts and demons had more immediacy and reality to her. It was much more likely that a ghost would alight in this remote village than a ruler of Japan.
Instead of continuing, Kaze held out his cup. It took Aoi a few moments to react, but finally she picked up the sake flask and reached to pour another drink for Kaze. The rim on the cup made a chattering sound as the shaking flask bumped against it.
CHAPTER 16
Young buds don’t always
grow in sunshine. Sometimes they
must survive winter.
It took her several days to work up the courage to visit the bandit camp again. At first she resolved never to return to the forest and hills, but the samurai had said that demons would break down your door if they wanted you, so she told herself that she wasn’t running any greater risk by going to the bandit camp than by staying at home. Besides, the lure of money tugged at her much more strongly than her fear of ghosts, demons, and dragons.
Still, this time she made no concessions to the need to hide the camp. She didn’t wander through the woods, and she didn’t carry a prop like a mushroom-gathering basket. She didn’t pause to see if someone was following her, but she did look around constantly, straining to see or hear the first inkling of a ghost.
By the time she got to the camp, she was so sick with anxiety she didn’t bother feigning the mechanical smile that always adorned her face when she visited. Kaze, who was sitting on a high limb in a comfortable tree, saw her rush past below him, and he smiled.
The next morning, Boss Kuemon was mad. He came out of his hut after a pleasant sleep instigated by sex with the woman from the village, and he found his men sitting around in small groups, talking about ghosts and demons. He scoffed at the talk, but saw in the eyes of his men a kind of fear that prompted him to demand the cause of such foolish talk. “Aoi” was the answer.
The woman had already left, so all Kuemon could do was stomp around the camp shouting at his men to stop being so weak and foolish. He thought briefly of banning the woman from the camp, but he considered his free “tax” and the morale of his men and decided that action was the best course. Rousting everyone but Hachiro, the kid he used for a sentry, Kuemon took his men out to look for prey.
By late afternoon the men returned, and the talk of demons and dragons was mostly forgotten. Hachiro was sent to the spring for fresh water to make the evening rice. He took a wooden bucket and walked through the woods, down to the pool of water the camp used.
The dying sun slanted through the trees, sending ribbons of golden light cascading across the tree trunks. The woods were ripe with the smell of drying pine needles and the familiar sounds of the forest. Hachiro happily whistled a folk tune as he swung the empty bucket in time with the music. He started singing.
It was a silly song, one sung by mothers to teach their daughters how to cook rice. Hachiro had heard his mother sing it many times to his sisters, with all the children laughing and squealing with delight at the admonition at the end. In the close, homey atmosphere of the Japanese farmhouse, all members of the family wove bonds that created a tight fabric. The thought of his mother and family made the young man stop, the last words of the song catching in his throat. Tears formed in his eyes, and he whispered, “Okaasan. Mother.”
War had come to Uzen, Hachiro’s home province. And because war was just another name for madness, when it came to Hachiro’s village it created madness for all who lived there. The day of madness was like any other day in Hachiro’s young life. He started the day with a communal breakfast with his family, his mother serving soup and leftover rice to his silent father and his noisy siblings. Hachiro felt there should have been some foreshadowing of the events to come, some disturbing dream the night before, some premonition while he ate, or even some ominous clouds or claps of thunder. There was none of this.