Emperor of the Fireflies Read online

  “Think before you agree, Hotaru,” whispered Uguisu. “Sending Kurika on a mission of destruction would drain you of much of your life force. Remember the toll that freeing him from Sakuranbo took on you.”

  “Don’t listen to the old bird,” hissed Kurika. “She’s turning senile. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

  “Tsk.” Uguisu roused herself a little at this. “So loud and ill-mannered. But what else can you expect from a fire dragon? Let me remind you, Fire-Child, that I treasure our master’s health and well-being. I can’t allow you to bleed him dry.”

  Kurika gave a low, dry chuckle. “Stop fussing. I’ve already worked out a plan.”

  Irritated as Hotaru was by their bickering, there was something about Kurika’s self-satisfied air that made him feel uneasy.

  He’s become far too independent. And he can tell that I’ve depleted more of my life force reviving Uguisu than I intended to. How can I stop him taking matters into his own hands again? One more impulsive attack could ruin everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve.

  “Dearest master,” Uguisu said softly, “remember your mother – and all her hopes for your advancement. She would have been so proud to see you eclipse your brother. It’s been a long and hard road, but you are emperor now.”

  “I am emperor now,” he repeated. Although Hotaru didn’t want to admit it to himself, the last weeks since he had replaced Suzaku as ruler of Cipangu had been fraught with crises and irksome problems. He had not once felt able to relax and enjoy the privileges of power and influence.

  Is this really what I dreamed of?

  Chapter 28

  One moment, Kai was running down the stony island beach toward the turning tide. The next, he felt himself sucked back into Shiomitsu’s powerful, sinuous body.

  Skin hardening to shimmering scale, hands and feet to claws, teeth to dragon-fangs.

  He came back to himself, far out at sea.

  That snowy-feathered bird. The memory scored a shimmering trail across his mind. A shikigami was spying on us. It must have been another of Hotaru’s creatures. And now it will have relayed everything it heard back to its master.

  “Masao!” Borne toward the mainland shore on the incoming tide, Kai called out to Masao, desperate to warn him. But his great voice, carried on the wind, only stirred up fierce breakers, as his agitation was transmuted into a choppy and troubled sea.

  “Stop!”

  Instead of Masao, he saw a white-robed woman hovering over the shore, her locks of long black hair writhing about her head.

  “It’s harvest-time, or have you forgotten?” Inari must have left the paddies to protect the rice crop. “Do you want to cause another flood?” And she launched herself straight toward him, dealing him a sharp blow on the snout with her rice-flail that made his eyes sting.

  “That hurt.”

  “You’re nothing but trouble.” She turned back toward land. “Learn to control that unruly temper of yours.”

  “Then help me.” He stretched out one clawed dragon-hand, desperate to prevent her from leaving. “Help me destroy our Sacrifice seals. Before we’re bound to the imperial house forever and the whole cycle begins again.”

  “Again?” She halted in mid-retreat.

  “There’s to be another Tide Dragon ceremony. In a few days’ time at the Autumn Moon Festival. And Hotaru must prove to the imperial court that he can summon Flood and Ebb.”

  “But how? You destroyed the Tide Jewels. Unless Hotaru has –” She turned abruptly and came swooping back toward him. “Does Hotaru have anything in his possession that belongs to you? Did you leave anything behind before the Sacrifice seals claimed you?”

  Kai thought. But his mind was filled with the incessant wash of the tide, making retrieving any significant facts all the more difficult.

  “Lord Kurozuro’s flute,” he said at last. “I must have dropped it on the cliff top before I jumped.” It all seemed so long ago, a distant memory that was fading far too fast. “And Masao left his katana.”

  “If they’ve found their way into Hotaru’s hands, he must be planning to use them to create a summoning spell.”

  “Could he do that?” Kai had been hoping that, ingenious and devious as the onmyōji-emperor had proved himself to be, such a spell would be beyond his abilities.

  “He’s already bound Kurika to him. Although that contract cost him dear. As you know only too well, Sacrifice seal bonds only work with a mortal soul. The soul of one very close to the onmyōji.”

  Kai instinctively raised his left dragon claw out of the water again to check his Sacrifice seal – but it had vanished. “The seal. It’s gone.”

  “Gone?” Inari hovered closer to inspect his sleek-scaled limb. “This is not good, Kai.”

  “Not good?” Kai felt a flicker of fear shoot through him as he twisted around from side to side to examine his body.

  She pointed with her rice flail at his left shoulder and, swiveling his head around, he caught a phosphorescent glint of jewel-bright color.

  “There? How did the seal get there?”

  “Because you used too much of your mortal life force driving Kurika away.” Her eyes had dulled and she seemed to be staring through him, as though seeing someone else in his place. “You may only have one more chance after this, Kai. For when the seal settles over your heart, your mortal body will become fully absorbed into Flood’s and you will never be able to return to your old life on land.”

  “But I met Lord Kurozuro on the shore –”

  “And how did he look? Like a mortal man?”

  Kai remembered the drifting sea-blue hair, the translucent glint of scales on his skin, the sapphire intensity of his ancestor’s piercing gaze.

  “No,” he said. The precious memory felt tarnished now that he understood its true implications. Is that the way I’m going to die? His mind was churning. “How can we stop Hotaru? If he’s planning to use the flute and the katana to ensnare us at the Autumn Moon Festival, there’s little time left to protect ourselves.”

  “I can’t interfere in mortal matters,” she said. “Just do everything you can to keep out of Hotaru’s clutches.” And then she was gone, leaving Kai, all alone in the vastness of the sea.

  ***

  Night had turned the sea to ink by the time the tide began to turn and at last Kai heard Masao calling his name.

  “How did it go with your clan? Did they listen? Did they understand?”

  Kai had been lost in the darkness of his thoughts and it took him a moment or two to realize that Masao was not aware of what had happened.

  “Yes – but one of Hotaru’s shikigami was listening in. A white bird.”

  He heard Masao swear softly. “Another shikigami? We should have guessed he has more than one.”

  “But that’s not all. Inari suspects that Hotaru will use the things we left behind to create a summoning spell.”

  “What things?” Masao sounded puzzled.

  “Your sword. My flute. And Inari warned me – the more we use up our mortal life force, the closer the Sacrifice seal moves toward our hearts. When it gets there. . .” His voice petered out; he knew Masao would understand the part he had left unsaid. “Masao. I’m afraid.”

  “Afraid? Of what?” Masao’s voice floated back to him; the tide was already dragging them apart.

  “Of losing myself. Of forgetting who I am. There are things I can’t remember too well already.”

  “Such as?”

  “My daily tasks helping Master Seishi. The uses and the scents of the healing herbs.” Even as he mentioned them, he found himself struggling to pull the names from the constant blur of water washing through his mind. “And I don’t know how to stop the decay. It’s as if the longer I stay under the sea, the more my true self becomes one with Shiomitsu and Kai’s memories, my memories, everything that makes me who I am, are slowly disappearing.”

  “Tell yourself that it’s not for much longer. We have friends; good friends who are
working hard to help us. Sakami and Yūgiri. Have faith in them. . .” Masao’s words became inaudible as the ebbing tide’s inexorable force pulled him out of earshot.

  “And what if we get out bodies back – but our memories have been erased? Washed clean away?”

  Chapter 29

  The blaze of heat from the forge fire seared Sakami’s face and every breath she took in tasted of smoke and molten metal. Her sensitive ears throbbed at each hammer blow. But she could not stop watching, fascinated, as Kinkiyo and his armorers worked on Inari’s sacred blade, grunting as they swung their heavy hammers, and the sparks spurted into the air.

  Honou crept into the forge doorway to stand beside her in the dusk.

  “Is it ever going to be finished?” he asked as the smith thrust the blade back into the forge fire. “They’ve been working on it for days. I don’t like it here. I want to go back to the mountain.”

  “Master Kinkiyo has other work to do beside ours,” she said. “How else can he afford to feed his family?” But secretly she was beginning to worry that re-forging the sacred sword might be a task beyond the skills of the Akatobi swordsmith.

  And so many hopes are resting on the recreation of that blade. . .

  “Miko-san.” Kinkiyo came toward her, wiping the gleam of sweat from his face on his forearm. “I know I said today, but it’s a long and intricate process, refining and folding the metal, and it mustn’t be rushed.”

  “You’re a master of your craft, Sensei,” Sakami said, trying to conceal her disappointment, “and I’m very grateful to you for giving up so much of your time to restore the blade.”

  “It’s a challenge, I’ll admit.” Kinkiyo’s broad brow was furrowed in a frown. “It’s – it’s as if something’s eluding me. Each blade takes on a distinctive character of its own. . . And this one is not yet ready to reveal itself. I don’t want to disappoint you, but –” And with a little nod to her, he went back into the forge.

  “‘Not yet ready to reveal itself,’” Sakami repeated under her breath. “Well, it is, after all, Lady Inari’s sacred sword.”

  And suddenly she had an inspiration.

  “Is there an Inari shrine close by, Honou?”

  “How did you guess?” From his guilty expression, she realized that he must have been out exploring on his own.

  “Honou,” she said, catching hold of him by one ear, “have you been helping yourself to other shrine guardians’ offerings?”

  “I might have sampled one or two – ow, ow! Let go, that hurts.”

  “Only if you promise to take me there straight away. And we’ll have to bring them a present to apologize.”

  “The guardian kitsune seemed not to mind. . .”

  “That’s not the point!” Sakami released him and he rubbed his ear, shooting her a resentful look. “This pilfering has to stop. One day, someone will catch you and punish you.”

  “I’m a fox. Pilfering is what we foxes do best.”

  “And don’t look so pleased with yourself. Try to be a little sorry. We have to ask the shrine guardians for a big favor.”

  He looked at her quizzically, his head tilted to one side.

  “This sword can’t be reforged without Inari’s help,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  ***

  The Inari shrine was far more magnificent than any Sakami had seen before. Great scarlet torii towered above her, festooned with the paper prayer streamers called shide. The two guardian fox statues outside wore their red ceremonial bibs with dauntingly haughty expressions – but, to her surprise, the dashing male fox was as black as coal – in contrast to the female’s pure white.

  Sakami sensed Honou start to bristle, growling softly beneath his breath, and stopped on the threshold.

  “If you can’t greet them with due deference, you’d better wait outside,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “We’ve come to ask for their help.”

  He muttered something inaudible, kicking sullenly at a stone.

  “I couldn’t hear that.”

  “I said that we’re just as good as they are, who do they think they are, looking down their noses at us with their stuck-up city ways?”

  Sakami sighed. Why must he always be looking for a fight? It must be his age.

  “I’ll go in alone, then. You keep watch.”

  He shrugged and continued to kick the stone around. Ignoring him, she cleansed her mouth and hands with water and entered the shrine.

  He knows very well how important this is for me. And for Kai too. Is that why he’s sulking?

  She bowed to the guardian statues and laid out the offerings of fried tofu.

  “And what do we have here? A little country vixen dressed up as a shrine maiden?” The female issued from within the stone statue to reveal herself as an elegant kitsune with long, silky white hair. Sakami bowed, feeling distinctly frumpy alongside such a distinguished guardian.

  “What is your business here? Introduce yourself.”

  She hasn’t even deigned to notice our offering.

  “Speak up, child.”

  “My name is Sakami. And I –” Sakami swallowed hard. “– I need to ask Lady Inari a question. I couldn’t think where else to go, so I came here. It’s urgent.”

  “And what makes you think that Lady Inari will have time to trouble herself with your trivial request?”

  “It’s Kurika.” Sakami was determined not to be deterred. “Lady Inari said –”

  “What about Kurika?” A male voice, suave and refined, broke in on their conversation. Turning, Sakami saw the other guardian sauntering lazily toward them, sampling one of the tofu strips she had brought. In human form, he wore his sleek black hair loose about his shoulders. He was easily head and shoulders taller than Honou and was idly swinging the ceremonial rice granary keys round on one finger.

  “Kurika has been threatening our mountain shrine,” Sakami said and as his deep amber eyes met hers, she felt herself blush. He’s so handsome I don’t know where to look. “And so we’ve brought the pieces of Lady Inari’s broken sword to be re-forged,” she managed, glancing away.

  The jangling of keys stopped abruptly. “Threatening your mountain?” The guardian’s fire-tipped tails appeared, as if Sakami’s words had charmed them out.

  “He burned down our village and destroyed the shrine seven years ago,” Sakami said. “He has to be stopped from doing it again.”

  The two kitsune exchanged a nod.

  “Follow me.” The female guardian glided toward the shadowy interior of the shrine; Sakami followed and saw an exquisitely painted life-sized statue of Inari standing, pale as a ghost, in the gloom. The spicy odor of sandalwood incense perfumed the dark air.

  Sakami glanced anxiously around, expecting to be challenged by a priest. To a mere mortal, the guardian spirits would not be visible unless they chose to be but she still felt as if she was trespassing in the inner sanctuary.

  “There’s no one here but ourselves right now,” said the male guardian. “The old man’s gone out to pay his respects to a rich parishioner.”

  “How can we make contact with Lady Inari?” Sakami glanced uncertainly at the two tall spirits.

  “Summon your servant,” said the female. “The insolent little tofu thief. It’s about time he acted responsibly.”

  “You mean Honou?” Sakami was ashamed that he had been behaving so disrespectfully again. She called to him and he wandered in, his spirit tails trailing dejectedly behind him, eyes averted, not meeting her gaze.

  The male guardian must have given him a good dressing-down for stealing the offerings.

  “Welcome to our shrine, Sakami and Honou,” the female said. “My name is Chinatsu. We are myōbu: Celestial Fox spirits.”

  “And you may call me Korechika,” said the male guardian, with a lazily confident smile at Sakami that made her go a little weak at the knees. He’s so charming I don’t know where to look.

  “Lady Chinatsu. Lord Korechika.” She bowed, ove
rawed by their seductively glamorous aura.

  “Form a circle. Touch palm to palm,” instructed Chinatsu.

  Or paw to paw, Sakami thought as she found herself pressing her right hand against the male guardian’s, her left against Honou’s. The instant they were all connected, she felt a charge of foxfire fizz and radiate around the circle, passing from fingertip to fingertip.

  “Lady Inari – please help us.”

  The shadows behind the statue rippled, reminding Sakami of a breeze stirring the ripening rice in the paddies. A gleam of soft light illumined the dark recesses of the shrine, as if a lantern had been lit – and the goddess materialized in the gloom.

  “Sakami?” she said sharply. “Why are you so far from the Sakuranbo shrine?”

  “I’ve found a smith to reforge your sacred sword,” Sakami began, trying not to babble in her eagerness. “And I’ve brought him all the fragments from the cave in the mountain. But it won’t be sacred again unless you give it your blessing. So –”

  “Have you any idea what you’re proposing?”

  “I know it’s presumptuous of me to ask such a favor of you. But we don’t know how else to stop Kurika.” Sakami became aware that the Celestial Fox guardians were following their exchange with surprise. Perhaps Lady Inari doesn’t visit them as often as us. . . The thought was cut short as Sakami felt Inari’s hand cup her face, tilting it up towards her own.

  “The sword I used to imprison Kurika was imbued with a soul-sacrifice. Do you understand me, Sakami?”

  “Like the Tide Dragons? A life was sacrificed when the sword was first forged?” Sakami stared in slow-dawning understanding at the goddess. “B-but how? I mean, whose life?” A chilling, blood-drenched vision flooded her mind with crimson. No, Inari would never condone such an atrocity. She wanted to look away but the goddess held her face between both hands so that she was forced to endure the intensity of her gaze.

  “Do you know anyone willing to lay down their life to protect the mountain and the rice fields on the plain beneath? Because that is what it will take: an old and ancient binding spell that cannot be cast without a selfless sacrifice.”