Guardian, Saviors of Kamigawa

CHAPTER 17

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?”

The regal soratami did not answer. Her eyes were angry, but her face and demeanor were chillingly calm.

Toshi shrugged. “No matter. My myojin and I have something for you.”

The soratami seemed to be struggling, but the fog thickened around her and held her fast.

Don’t do this, ochimusha. The soratami’s lips did not move, but it was the same throaty voice that had hectored him before.

“Why?” Toshi sneered. “Is it a sin?” He drew his jitte and slashed it angrily through the fog. When he was through, the same symbol that adorned his waking forehead hung solidly in the air before him, the symbol of the yuki-onna and her lethal cold.

The soratami grimaced, clearly straining to escape. She was in Night’s grasp and Toshi’s mind, however, and they were not about to let her go.

The kanji floated forward, gathering speed as it approached the soratami.

“Tell Mochi he’s next,” Toshi called. The kanji punched through the layer of fog and disappeared into the soratami’s chest. She shivered and heaved but still could not move. The only sound that escaped her pale blue lips was a gentle wheeze, like the whisper that fails to awaken a sleeping child. Then the moonfolk matron’s body withdrew into itself, disappearing into the kanji inside her like water circling out from an unplugged basin. To her credit, she didn’t scream once, not even with her mind.

When the soratami was completely gone, Night released the constraining fog and said, Hurry now. You must finish what you began on the Heart of Frost and return to Jukai. The soratami armada and the orochi rangers are about to receive a vast and terrible guest.

Toshi paused, watching the stony landscape fade and disperse. If he waited long enough, the ground beneath his feet would soon crumble.

He sheathed his jitte and sat once more with his legs crossed. There was no need to wait and every reason to hurry. Toshi closed his eyes and let himself fall back toward his body.

Toshi awoke with a start. The sun was now fully visible overhead. The yuki-onna still stood transfixed where Toshi had left her. As he rose, Toshi felt the mark on his forehead fade. The glow emitting from the kanji ring also diminished. Slowly, menacingly, the yuki-onna’s head tilted forward until her terrible eyes were once more locked on Toshi.

“Thanks,” he said. “But we’re done now.” He got to his feet and dashed to each remaining kanji in turn, brutally marring and cracking the symbols with his jitte. With each lost character, the glow on those remaining receded more. With each lost character, the yuki-onna regained focus and vigor. She crossed the line of symbols and strode purposefully toward Toshi.

Toshi tried to ignore her and went to work on the last kanji. Sweat ran into his eyes and fell from his brow, melting the snow where it landed. He scraped his knuckles on the rough ground. The tip of his jitte was chipped and cracking. He hacked harder and faster, the snow-woman’s shadow almost upon him.

Toshi cried, “Ha!” as the last recognizable bit of the last kanji disappeared in a spray of sharp pebbles and grit. She would never reach him now. Toshi turned his face toward the yuki-onna and grinned.

The dread spirit kept coming. Toshi awkwardly threw himself back and skittered away from the yuki-onna on his hands and feet, still facing her. He quickly bumped up against the wall of the clearing and pressed himself against it as tightly as he could.

“It’s over,” he told the advancing figure. “The sun’s up, the kanji are gone. Why are you still here?”

If she heard him, she did not react. Standing over Toshi, she reached out with her pale fingers to caress his face.

Reflexively, Toshi made himself insubstantial. The yuki-onna’s hand passed through his forehead, and the pain seared him like ten year’s worth of frigid, skin-chapping wind. Toshi screamed in agony, struggling to press deeper into the rock behind him.

She held her hand in place for several seconds, and then withdrew. The yuki-onna turned away from Toshi and folded her arms into her sleeves. She took several steps toward the path that led to the Heart of Frost’s summit, fading as she walked. Before she cleared the ruined ring of kanji, the yuki-onna vanished into the cold, clear sunlight.

Toshi remained a phantom until his heart stopped pounding. He was alive. As he materialized, he felt melting snow seep into his clothing.

“Thank you, O Night.”

You have earned my blessings, acolyte. Now rise, and earn them once more.

“Right. Back to Jukai.” Toshi pushed himself up against the rock wall, slapped the snow from his legs, and slid into the shadow of the overhanging cliffs.

Mochi appeared in Uyo’s chambers on the soratami flagship. He had received an urgent thought-summons from Chiyo, and while her thoughts were jumbled and confused, he didn’t need her to inform him something had gone horribly wrong.

He found the moon-masked maiden pacing angrily around the room. Uyo sat half-sunk into the broad couch pillows in a meditative posture. The silent prophet’s eyes were open, but her mind was obviously far away.

Mochi floated up to Uyo and stared into her eyes. Then he turned to Chiyo and said, Has Toshi …

“Night’s Reach,” Chiyo seethed. In her fury, she was incapable of achieving the clarity of thought required for mind-to-mind contact. “We had him. He was in the yuki-onna’s hands. And he slipped through, as I warned you he would.”

Mochi’s cherubic face darkened and he floated toward Uyo’s student. Have a care, Chiyo. I am not your enemy.

The masked soratami bowed her head. She took two deep breaths and said, Forgive me, Mochi-sama. I have been trying to break through to my master, but her mind is closed to me. I cannot determine what was done to her, or the lasting effects. Will you help?

Of course. Mochi drifted back to Uyo until he was at eye level. He concentrated, reaching out to her with his thoughts.

Instead of responding, Uyo’s eyes flickered as if she were trying to focus them on something minute. She drew a long breath in through her nose. She parted her lips and sighed. The exhalation was white, frigid, and full of ice particles.

A coating of frost crept across Uyo’s open eyes. A single tear slid down her cheek, but it hardened and cracked on her blue-white skin. Then Uyo pitched forward, rigid as a statue, into Mochi’s arms.

The little blue kami caught Uyo’s body, but the sudden stop was too much for her. With a sickening crack, her head rolled off her brittle neck onto the low table in the center of the chamber. There was no blood, as the silent prophet’s body was frozen solid. The rest of her crumbled in Mochi’s arms as the head rolled to the floor and shattered like a fine glass globe.

Chiyo sobbed in fury. Seemingly stunned, Mochi carefully placed the pieces of Uyo he had caught back on the luxurious pillows. He folded his fingers over his belly and rose into the air, rotating to face Chiyo.

Toshi Umezawa is now your responsibility, he said. Do what you will. Take whatever and whomever you need to finish him once and for all. Report back to me when he is dead.

I need no one. Chiyo clenched an angry fist. It will be done.

Of that I have no doubt. Go now, Chiyo. We both have much to do. You have a reckoning to see to. Mochi smiled coldly. And I have a war to win.