Dawn had not quite broken on the Heart of Frost, but the sky was growing lighter by the moment. Hidden in the shadows of the clearing’s high walls, Toshi continued to work. He had erased a select set of kanji from the circle, wiping out almost half of the total before the yuki-onna appeared.
The real thing was a far more formidable presence than the illusion Night’s Reach employed. The actual snow-woman carried the cold around her like a voluminous robe. Toshi could feel her drawing heat to her from the entire clearing.
“Greetings,” Toshi called. He was still on his knees, hacking at the symbols with the tip of his jitte. “I don’t know if you have the sort of mind that recognizes people or holds grudges, but we’ve met before. And I think you have a good reason to hate me.”
The yuki-onna stood silently just outside the half-circle of symbols. Slowly, she lifted her head so that the wind carried her long black hair away from her face. There were the features Toshi had seen before, familiar but unknown to him. The bottomless black eyes, the sharp, square chin, the porcelain cheekbones were all as they had been when he had first performed his ritual. Like Godo, he was slightly put off by not recognizing a loved one, but he was especially aggrieved and somewhat relieved that he wasn’t again face-to-face with Kiku.
The snow-woman gave no sign of recognition, but she took a menacing step toward Toshi nonetheless. He mouth hung open, but instead of words only the cold, rising wail of the wind passed her lips.
Seemingly unconcerned, Toshi moved on to the next symbol. “I borrowed your power,” he said. “But now I’d like to give it back. Not that you missed it. You managed to stay quite busy even without what I took. I think on some level you ought to be grateful. I’ll bet you haven’t hunted that well in almost a century.”
The yuki-onna showed no more signs of gratitude than she had anger. She simply continued to stalk toward Toshi with her arm outstretched, though she had not yet reached the line of kanji.
Toshi paused. “No,” he said. “I didn’t expect you’d agree.” He went back to his labor. “You don’t owe me and you don’t hate me. You’re not much like us at all, are you? All you care about is your role, your job on this mountain. I must say, you do it very well.”
He finished breaking one final kanji and sighed. “All done,” he said. “You can come get me any time now.”
The snow-woman had stopped just shy of the remaining kanji on the ground.
“If you were the kind of creature that recognized faces and held grudges,” Toshi said, “you’d be right to be cautious. That’s strong magic there. Even with half the words erased, the sentence is powerful enough to affect you.”
The woman in white lowered her arm. She took a step back and her wind-wail changed pitch.
“Bother,” Toshi said. Well, he thought. There’s no value in half-measures.
He stood as quickly as he could and lunged toward the yuki-onna. He imagined that very few of her victims charged her, at least not after she had shown them her true face. Whether through shock or simply because she didn’t fear Toshi, the snow-woman made no effort to avoid him.
His hand crossed the line of kanji and clamped onto hers. She felt solid to him, and he hauled her toward him as hard as he could. Pale purple light flashed where their hands met and they both threw their heads back, their mouths open in twin silent screams. The same light glowed from Toshi’s forehead, inscribing the character that had given him access to the snow-woman’s power. At their feet, the broken line of kanji also shone brightly in the quickening dawn.
Toshi’s voice caught up to his mouth and his screams echoed off the clearing walls. With a wrench, he jerked his hand free of the yuki-onna and staggered backward, falling on his seat in the dusty snow.
His arm burned from the intense cold. He cradled it against his chest and massaged it with his free hand. Nearby, the yuki-onna stood with her hand outstretched and one foot planted firmly on a glowing purple kanji in the rock below. She was motionless, her head still tossed back and her mouth open wide.
Toshi glanced up at the rising sun. He didn’t have much time. He scrambled to his feet and went as far as he could go from the snow-woman without leaving the kanji circle. Then he settled onto the ground with his legs crossed, placed his tingling hands on his knees, and closed his eyes.
Despite his pounding heart and the danger, Toshi felt relaxed and comfortable as he allowed himself to drift off. After fighting sleep for so long, it came quickly when he called it, like an old and faithful dog.
Toshi tried to feel nothing, to think nothing as he appeared on the hazy plain of rock. He also ignored the jitte strapped to his hip, which had not been there the last few times he’d visited this place. He was an expert at setting traps and drawing the quarry in, so he knew the most important thing a presumptive victim could do was let them think they had you.
“I did as you asked,” he called. “Why am I here again?”
After a pause, the voice that greeted him when he first came here spoke. Liar, it said. Toshi hadn’t noticed before how rich and throaty the voice sounded. You have sent the snow-woman back to her mountain, but you have not relinquished her power. Is this how you set things right?
“Yes,” Toshi said. “About that. I have a few questions about the arrangement we’ve come to. I want a guarantee.”
You are shockingly bold, ochimusha. Your fate in the next world hangs in the balance, and you still quibble over terms?
“I just like to make sure I’m getting a fair deal. I mean, if I’m going to go around making amends, I need to know someone’s keeping score. I’d hate to redeem ninety-nine sins and still be damned for the hundredth.”
There is no bargain you can strike with destiny, Toshi Umezawa. Fight it or accept it, but do not seek to modify it.
“Right there,” Toshi said. “That’s where we disagree. I’m sure you know a great deal about life’s rewards and punishments, far more than I do. But I, in turn, know something you do not.”
The voice stayed silent, refusing to be drawn any farther into this mad debate.
“I know who you are,” Toshi continued. “And I know whom you serve. Look,” he said. “See the power of my patron spirit.
“O Night,” Toshi intoned. “If you please?”
The pale haze covering the rocky plain darkened from glaring white to dirty gray to thundercloud-black. When Night’s voice echoed from the nothingness around him, her voice was strong, almost playful.
I am here, acolyte. What troubles you?
“I’m here on the doorstep of the cold gray hell,” Toshi said.
No. You are not.
“Sorry. My mistake. I’m here in my own mind, dreaming a dream that someone else inserted against my will.”
Go on.
“As your acolyte, I believe my mind, body, and soul belong to you. It’s very presumptuous for someone else to intrude here, isn’t it?”
I would take such an action as a direct insult, if not a direct attack.
“As do I. And I’ve got every right, because it’s my mind. But back to my point: dreams fall within your purview as well, don’t they?”
They do. Night is the time for dreams, and thus all dreams and dreamers are partially mine. In this, I contain multitudes.
“Then this transgressor cannot go unpunished. Her mind is still connected to mine?”
I have ensured that she cannot leave until we are done with our discussion.
“Excellent. Would you … bring her here, please?”
The black fog separated in front of Toshi. It left a small, humanoid-shaped hole. The empty space went translucent and slowly cohered into the body of a small, elegant soratami.
Toshi cocked his head. “You’re not the one I expected. I didn’t mess up your face on the hallowed streets of Oboro. If you were her, this would at least make some sense. Who are you and why are you here?”