Guardian, Saviors of Kamigawa

CHAPTER 23

Michiko felt herself disappear into the world, becoming a part of everything while remaining separate and distinct from it. It was intoxicating but also smothering and constraining. She felt like a fish in a bowl that was exactly as big as she was: the entire world was hers to explore, but her world started and ended with her own body.

See, sister, how I have lived. Kyodai’s voice rang in Michiko’s head though the princess could not see her. Before I was taken to your world, I was woven throughout the fabric of both realms like the threads in your clothing. The old serpent embodies everything in the kakuriyo and the utsushiyo. Many of the kami you know seceded from O-Kagachi after they’d been given an identity by the denizens of your world. Your prayers can give the spirits purpose, and that purpose gave them power, identity.

Michiko’s vision darkened. When it cleared, she found herself suspended in a huge, cloudlike void of darkness and unstable shapes. She saw a vast expanse of flickering energy and drifting dust … by now a very familiar scene to her. Twice before, powerful spirits had shown her the spirit world, its unfathomable ebb and flow churning in a complex rhythm she would never apprehend.

But the kakuriyo seemed somehow different with Kyodai as her guide. Her sister’s presence comforted Michiko, making the strange space more real, more alive, and less overwhelming.

Here, Kyodai said, there was no “I.” There was no Kyodai to separate from the fabric of O-Kagachi. All things in both worlds are part of the old serpent, but none more so than me. For I was forcibly removed from his essence not by the prayers of many but by the arrogance of one. I was never meant to be distinct, never intended to be an individual. Then, I had no motion of my own and no will. I had not even the thoughts required to recognize these essential aspects of existence. I was subordinate, wholly contained.

“I am so sorry, my sister. That sounds like a hellish existence.”

It was not hellish or divine. It simply was. I did not know anything other than what was, so I could not love or hate it. How could I long for the touch of your hand when I did not know you existed? When I did not know I had a hand to touch?

The void shuddered and began to spin. Michiko had seen this vortex form before-the visual effect of Konda’s crime.

And then he came. Kyodai’s voice grew low and malevolent.

The scene before Michiko shifted, taking her from the mysteries of the kakuriyo to a small stone chamber in her father’s tower. Konda was there with General Takeno and the daimyo’s advisors from Oboro and Minamo. They stood around a flaming brazier that cast eerie blue light across the room. Above the brazier hung a stone disk with a fetal serpent etched across its face.

He stole me from my home, ripped me away from everything I knew and was. He gave me individuality without freedom, that I might recognize my sorry state but remain unable to change it. Here is where the hellishness begins, my sister. Hadyour father let me be, I would never have known regret, anger, or loneliness. Had he brought me here as a true kami, one to be worshiped with respect and admiration, I would have been another willing participant in the great dramas of the physical plane. I would have showered him with as many blessings as he could conceive, as many as I could bestow. For I would have been alive.

But he did neither of these things. He cast me in stone and left me aware. He made me powerful but denied me choice and action. He created me as an individual entity but used me as a means to his ends.

Michiko found herself constrained again, frozen and immobile. She was looking through a distorting window at her father’s face. Awash in blue light, Konda’s mad grin and wild eyes were the most frightening things she had ever seen.

This is the face of my enemy. The face of your father. This is what I saw for the twenty long years of my physical existence. I will never allow myself to be imprisoned like this again. Do you understand me, sister?

“I do, Kyodai. He is a great man, but great men do not always make good fathers.”

The view from inside the stone disk shimmered. When it cleared, Michiko was once more looking out into the void of the spirit world. Slowly, Kyodai faded into view alongside the princess.

“What of your father?” Michiko asked. “We are agreed Daimyo Konda wishes to imprison you again, to use you for the glory of his nation. We will not let that happen.

“But what of O-Kagachi? What will the old serpent do when he finds you?”

Kyodai looked away, her jaw working nervously in an unconscious imitation of Michiko’s own nervous habit. I fear the worst.

“Then, like me, you fear he will do more than imprison you,” Michiko said. “He will devour you. He will consume and digest your personality until it is once more a mere extension of his. He will take you back into himself to restore the injury done to this realm regardless of your wishes. Regardless of the multitude of injuries he will inflict in the process.”

Kyodai’s voice was soft, almost melancholy. I called out for him when I was afraid. But I am also afraid of him. There is none of this, she motioned back and forth between Michiko’s mouth and her own. No language, none of the sharing of ideas or ourselves. He is everything and therefore needs nothing. His guardianship is all that matters, the imposition of boundaries between the realms of physical and spiritual. Only that drives him. I see now how terrible he is.

Michiko looked past Kyodai and took in the whole of the kakuriyo. From her vantage point she could see the very edges of the spirit realm, the limits of it scope, the very shape of it. Though its depths were still immeasurable she felt she could reach out and take it in her hands like some rare and exotic treasure. Was this how her father felt? Did he also see the true shape of the spirit world and dream of holding it, protecting it, shaping it to his design?

Kyodai was truly her sister, she thought. Their lives shared so many parallels. Yet they were also strangers, unknown and perhaps unknowable to each other. Kyodai had taken a body of flesh and Michiko had seen the cosmos as an ephemeral spirit, but this was not true understanding. They were only visitors in each other’s worlds, observers of each other’s lives. Michiko could never grasp the perfect nightmare of gaining an identity only to spend twenty years discovering it was that of a helpless, motionless prisoner. Kyodai would never see how Konda’s indifference to Michiko was as cruel and painful as his devotion to the stone disk, and how his actions had forever altered the course of her own life. They were two sides of the same mirror, linked, identical, but forever distinct and separate.

Their respective fathers had brought them to this. O-Kagachi existed to embody and enforce the barrier between utsushiyo and kakuriyo. Konda dedicated his life to expanding his realm to include as much space and as many tribes as he could. Each wanted sole authority over the whole of both realms. The only difference was that O-Kagachi wanted to preserve existing boundaries as they were and Konda wanted them to change in his favor.

“We must stop them,” Michiko said.

Kyodai turned to face the princess. I agree. But how?

“O-Kagachi contains both realms and keeps them separate. My father the daimyo is the same with Eiganjo, ruling it and the surrounding nations alike. They both control the traffic to and from their domains as well as within their own borders. We have all been constrained by those borders, yet we know no alternative. Without the structure our fathers provide, both worlds would be different … more chaotic and dangerous, less formal and organized. Without clear lines and borders, spirit and flesh alike would be lost.”

Kyodai’s fierce eyes became haunted, hopeless. Then what can we do?

“We cannot simply escape the guardians who seek us. Nor can we simply destroy the boundaries they exist to enforce. Even if it were possible, the result would be cataclysmic upheaval.

“But we can rewrite those boundaries. Our fathers have defined our worlds for our entire lives, but we can redefine them. This is the way of mortal beings, for the aged to give way to the young. The old must stand aside for the new.”

Sharpness crept back into Kyodai’s expression. A sly, feral look flickered across her eyes. Then, my sister, you are saying …

“We can fight,” Michiko said. “My father stole and imprisoned you before you truly existed. Your father’s outrage gave rise to the Kami War, which took my mother’s life and my father’s love before I could know either. I will resist both daimyo and serpent to the death before I allow them to cause any more harm.”

Kyodai smiled, baring her sharp teeth. Well said. You know I feel the same. But how will you resist? How can we fight them?

“I am not wise or strong,” Michiko said evenly. “But I am determined. I can handle a bow and arrow. I can strike at my enemies accurately from a great distance. I may not have great power, but I have a strong will.”

Kyodai nodded savagely. I, in turn, do have power, she said. Untapped and untested. But with your guidance, with your will … The serpentine woman opened her arms. Come, my sister. Together we will end this. No matter if we live or die, the world will not go on as it has before.

Without hesitation, Michiko opened her arms and flowed into Kyodai. Here in the spirit realm, their bodies mingled like a river flowing into the sea, swirling currents of Michiko’s will mixing with the rising tide of Kyodai’s power. For a moment they were wholly combined yet still discrete, a fusion being with four eyes, two mouths, two fathers, two lives … but they shared the same spirit and sought the same goal.

Then the sisters flowed completely together, mingling mind, body, and spirit into one transcendent whole. Tossed on a crashing wave of memories and sensations that were not and could not have been her own, Michiko abandoned herself to the experience. The last full thought she had before her old mind was swept away was, “I was wrong. We can know what it means to be the other.”

For the first time in either of their lives, Michiko and Kyodai were at last complete.

Sharp-Ear was the first to reawaken after the sisters had departed, but Pearl-Ear was the first to her feet.

“Hello,” Toshi called cheerfully. He was still prodding the dirt with the tip of his jitte. He had inscribed a long, complicated series of the symbols that should have allowed him to escape, but the magic simply wasn’t working. He tried some of the most basic kanji he knew, but the power was dead to him, frozen and still like the birds and the falling leaves.

Toshi jerked a thumb up toward the sky where O-Kagachi had already touched the tallest trees. “We’ll all be dead soon.”

“Merciful spirits,” Pearl-Ear said. She dashed forward and grabbed Toshi by the shoulders. “Where is Michiko?”

“And the Taken One,” Sharp-Ear added. He was favoring his left leg, and his right arm hung limp by his side.

“Kyodai,” Toshi corrected. “She took a name because she doesn’t want to be known as an inanimate object anymore.” He dropped his jitte and twisted Pearl-Ear’s thumbs back, breaking her hold. “Mind your manners, sensei. I’m just as upset as you are.”

Sharp-Ear padded up behind Toshi. “Can I kill him now, sister?”

“You have my leave, brother.” Without waiting, Pearl-Ear moved over to Silk-Eyes and tried to help the waking elder sit upright.

Toshi threw himself to the side, narrowly missing Sharp-Ear’s blade as it whistled past his neck. The ochimusha rolled onto his feet and crouched so that he was at the little kitsune’s height, his jitte drawn and ready.

Sharp-Ear struck again, stabbing at Toshi’s midsection with the tip of his dagger. Toshi easily parried the blow. Sharp-Ear was slower than he had been-either his heart wasn’t in this dirty work or he had sustained more serious injuries than he was letting on.

Toshi watched and waited as Sharp-Ear prepared to thrust again. He was prepared to react to a healthy kitsune’s attack in case Sharp-Ear was shamming, but the little fox was no quicker. Toshi easily caught the dagger between the tines of his jitte as it came toward him. With a simple twist of the wrist, he snapped Sharp-Ear’s blade off less than an inch from the handle.

Toshi twirled his weapon. “That’s what it’s made to do, you know,” he said.

Sharp-Ear scowled at his ruined weapon. Without saying a word, he dropped the broken knife and drew a second that was just as sharp and still intact.

Toshi sighed, casually meeting Sharp-Ear’s eyes. “Go ahead,” he said. “There probably isn’t a kanji hidden on me that’ll reflect your own blade back at you. You’re probably safe to do whatever you like.” He morosely began prodding the dirt with his jitte. “Probably.”

Sharp-Ear sheathed his knife. “I know you’re lying,” he said.

“Then strike.”

“But I also know you’re crafty. I’m betting you can get away from here if you want to bad enough.” He glanced up for a moment. “I’ll wait until you try before I cut you. It’ll be funnier.”

“Good,” Toshi said. “We’ll all need a good laugh in a few minutes.”

“Toshi,” Pearl-Ear snapped from where she sat with Silk-Eyes. She must be a teacher, Toshi thought. She’s got that iron tone down to a science. “If you are to remain here among the living, tell us, where are Michiko and …”

“Kyodai.”

“Tell us where Michiko and Kyodai are.”

“They rabbited,” Toshi said. “She burst out of the stone disk looking just like the princess, only sassier and with a definite air of snake about her. Oh, and she was naked.” He looked up at Sharp-Ear. “How’s that for amusing, you feisty little fur-ball? They’re gone, and we’re still here. For once I’m the one who’s been left behind.”

“It’s ironic,” Sharp-Ear admitted. “But I wouldn’t call it funny.”

“Nor I. Anyway.” He turned back to Pearl-Ear. “They said they were going to prepare.”

Pearl-Ear rose and glided back to Toshi. “Prepare? Prepare what?”

“How should I know? Nobody tells me anything.”

The forest around them was now as dark as midnight with O-Kagachi spreading over them like a world-sized umbrella. All of the kitsune stunned by Kyodai’s rebirth were now awake, and they wept and prayed in the shadow of the serpent.

“If she’s gone,” Sharp-Ear said, “why is O-Kagachi still coming here?”

“What am I, a librarian? I barely know why I’m here. When it comes to vast, ancient spirit beasts and their succulent naked daughters, your guess is as good as mine.”

Sharp-Ear bristled. “Listen, you.”

The air beside Toshi blurred. Instinctively, he took hold of his jitte and rolled backward, away from the source of the distortion. He came to his feet beside Sharp-Ear and they stood shoulder-to-shoulder, waiting.

The same kind of mist and smoke that had accompanied Kyodai’s emergence was back, only now there were two indiscriminate figures moving in the haze. The sisters came forward simultaneously.

Michiko and Kyodai were dressed in fine leather armor with hammered metal plates over their torsos, biceps, and thighs. The princess wore hers Eiganjo-style, with full sleeves, woven bamboo epaulets, and a white peaked helmet. She sported a longbow on her shoulder and a leather brace on her bow hand. The square quiver was as broad as her back and filled with gleaming, white-feathered bolts.

Kyodai’s new outfit was dusty gray and fit her like a tailored suit. The collar ended high, just above her chin, and her fierce eyes fairly glowed yellow in the dwindling light. She carried no weapon, but she walked with power and confidence. Both sisters were now accompanied by the cloud of stars that attended Kyodai when she first emerged.

Michiko said, “Hello. We have come to end this.”

Toshi smiled a sickly grin. He poked a thumb up at the sky. “Be my guest.”

Kyodai looked up at O-Kagachi, who was steadily crushing the tops of the trees as he descended. Without taking her eyes off the serpent, she extended her hand to Michiko. When the princess took it, Kyodai tossed back her head and hissed, raising the hair on Toshi’s arm.

“Father,” Kyodai said. “At last we meet.” She dropped Michiko’s hand and spread her arms up to the sky. “Embrace me, O-Kagachi. I have waited so very long.”

Michiko drew an arrow and nocked it onto her bow.

“Michiko,” Pearl-Ear said. “What have you done?”

The princess lowered her bow. “Nothing yet, sensei.” She bowed. “Wait and watch.”