Kamikaze, page 13
part #1 of Dungeon Samurai Series
As they descended the hill, Yamada asked, “Where are you from?”
“I grew up in Osaka, but three years ago, my family moved to Kyoto.”
“Ah, Kyoto. The city of ten thousand shrines. I’ve always wanted to visit someday.”
“Ara? Where are you from?”
“Tokyo.”
“Se ya na… I’ve never been there before. What is it like?”
“It’s…” He pondered it for a moment. “I lived my entire life in Tokyo. You will always, always be surrounded by people everywhere you go. You’ll never be alone in Tokyo.
“And yet… it can get lonely. Society pressures you to follow the conventional route. Go to university, become a sarariman, start a family, you know, the usual. For entertainment you have cafes and bars and museums, but… I imagine it’s not that different from Kyoto or Osaka. For shopping you have Akihabara, Shibuya, Ginza… and yet… if you’re not out to buy something it’s all stale. Hollow. You know what I mean?”
“Hai. If you’ve seen a mall, you’ve seen a hundred.”
“Exactly. Life in Tokyo is all fine and well if you want to live a regular life. But if you’re not cut out for a regular life, if that’s not what you want to do… it gets lonely.”
“I understand. It’s the same everywhere you go in the world. But we don’t have a choice. Not until we become adults.”
“‘Adults’?” He narrowed his eyes. “How old are you?”
“It’s not nice to ask a girl her age, na?”
“You can’t be older than me.”
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen. And you?”
She grinned. “Uchi wa JK dosu!”
Katsura was a joshi kousei. A high school girl.
“Let me guess. You’re a third year.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Eh… How did you know?”
“Lucky guess.”
“Eh…” she said again. But there was a lilt in her voice that suggested humor instead of skepticism.
He smiled. “How did a JK become a miko?”
“It’s a part-time job.”
“Now it’s your full-time job.”
“Life is strange, desho?”
The conversation was surreal. Here he was in an isekai, talking about the world he had left behind with a JK who spoke with an unusual accent. But it could be far worse.
“Un,” he said.
They arrived at the base of the hill. Katsura led the way to the storehouse.
“I’ve heard you graduated from training,” she said. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks. What about you?”
“Same. We completed our training yesterday.”
“What’s miko training like?”
“Nothing glamorous. We learn prayers and ceremonies, basic duties and procedures, things like that. It’s nothing like what the sohei learn. But there was an advanced self-defense course too.”
“Sohei? As in Buddhist warrior monks?”
“Un. There are two kinds of priests on this island. Clerics, who fight in the dungeon, and regular priests, who handle support roles. I’m part of the latter group. Our clerics—Japanese Buddhist clerics—are called sohei. In fact, many of them were actual sohei before they were summoned here.”
“I don’t think I’ve trained alongside the sohei in camp.”
“New sohei train on the temple grounds, around the back. I heard their training is much like yours, with martial arts and tactics and formations and such, but with an additional religious component. They’ll be assigned to the barracks after they complete training.”
“I see. Will you be going into the dungeon?”
“Hai. But only in a support role. To man the aid station, perform blessings, and other similar duties. I’ll leave the fighting to you samurai.”
“We have no daimyo, no fiefs or retainers, not even clans. All we have is a duty to clear the dungeon. We’re not samurai; we’re ashigaru.”
“Ashigaru? What’s that?”
“Conscript peasant soldiers. Usually in the service of samurai.”
“‘Samurai’ is more romantic than ‘ashigaru’, na? In the eyes of those you fight for, you are samurai.”
He chuckled. “Dungeon samurai, maybe. We surely aren’t true samurai.”
“Hai, hai, Yamada-sense.”
He’d never heard ‘sense’ before. Perhaps she meant ‘sensei’.
She led him down winding streets. He spotted a few of his fellow graduates walking along or in groups, and exchanged greetings and bows with them.
The silence between the two quickly grew awkward. Yamada wanted to keep the conversation going. But he wasn’t sure what to talk about. In the end, only one thing came to mind.
“I’ve seen the priests using mahou to heal people,” Yamada said. “How does it work?”
“Not mahou,” she said. “Norito. We pray to kami-san for help, and kami-san intervenes.”
“But you can’t use prayers all the time, desho?”
“Hai. A prayer for divine intercession is tiring. The more powerful the prayer, the more energy it takes. We can only do so much before we must rest.”
“What kind of prayers can priests use?”
“It depends on person to person. Kami-san grants different kinds of norito to different people, and the more experience you have, the more norito kami-san gives you. I can only use basic norito, but our seniors can perform incredible feats.”
“What are these basic norito?”
“Healing. Illumination. Blessings. They’re all tied to religious rituals or prayers. But I’ve seen the senior clerics perform more advanced norito with just a brief chant. They cast fireballs, flares, lightning bolts… The kind of miracles you usually see in fantasy stories.”
He frowned. “If clerics could do that, then why bother sending samurai into the dungeon?”
“The number of prayers we can use are limited, both by our stamina and by our stock. We can only use a certain prayer a few times a day. Once we exhaust the stock, we can’t use it again until the following day. Likewise, if we’re tired, we can’t use any prayers until we rest.”
“Norito must be used strategically.”
“Sou, sou. My instructors said norito is a trump card, to be used at the decisive moment. It must not be wasted on routine jobs.”
That explained Father Johnson’s anger at the hospital.
“Are there any other limitations?” Yamada asked.
“Hai. Priests cannot use norito they are not empowered to perform. You can, for example, pray for kami-san to blow up your enemies, but unless kami-san gave you permission to use such a norito, nothing will happen.”
“How do you receive an empowerment?”
“Ano… It may sound strange…”
“This whole world is strange.”
She smiled. “Sa… That first night, after we received our skills, I had a dream. I was in a garden, the most beautiful garden you could imagine. Everywhere there were flowers and fields and sakura trees. As I wandered the garden, I saw these… lights. Bright lights like we saw in the skill sphere.
“He… It… They called themselves kami-san. They told me that they wished to help. They said I had an affinity for healing and purification. Whenever I needed to heal someone or purify a place, I should call on them, and they would come.”
“That sounds convenient.”
“Hai. I didn’t know what that dream meant until the day we tested out the norito we could perform.” She smiled. “The first time I used a healing prayer, I was shocked. I didn’t know I could do something like that. Then I remembered the dream, and I realized what that meant.”
“All this talk of norito and limits sounds… weird,” Yamada said. “The logic of this world isn’t the logic of Earth.”
“Un. You know what’s even weirder?”
“What?”
“The resonance effect.”
“The what?”
“Resonance effect. When multiple priests pray for the same thing, the effects of their norito is amplified.”
“That sounds useful. But does it have limitations?”
“Hai. They must be focused on the same target. The priests must all be within line of sight of each other. They must pray for the same effect, be it healing or lightning or a blessing. They must time their prayers so they start and end at the same time. If these conditions aren’t met, they cast multiple norito instead of a single powerful one.”
“Now that is complicated. It’s like a role playing game.”
“Hai. This is, after all, an isekai.”
“It’s no game, though. People die.”
“Well, I hope we’ll survive this.”
“Me too.”
At the store house, a burly young man handed Yamada a carrying pole. On one end of the pole was a huge basket filled with salted fish, and on the other a basket of vegetables. The laborer also gave Katsura another basket filled with small bottles.
“What’s inside?” Yamada asked, gesturing at the bottles.
“Oil and salt,” the laborer replied. “The necessities of life.”
“I thought we use salt for money here,” Yamada said.
“Un, but the priests also use salt for rituals,” Katsura said. “I heard that if there’s excess salt in circulation, the elders will encourage people to donate salt to the jingu-ji to reduce the supply.”
“You got that right, miss,” the laborer said.
“Can you lift the buckets?” Katsura asked.
Yamada grunted, hoisting the pole on his shoulders. He knew he was in shape, but the baskets were heavy.
“I’ll manage,” Yamada said.
“I’d help you, but I’m busy here,” the laborer said.
“We can share the load if we must,” Katsura said.
“Thanks,” Yamada said.
Pole balanced on his shoulders, Yamada hauled the load as far as he could go, but he only managed a few hundred yards before he had to set them down to catch his breath and massage his sore muscles.
“This is heavy,” Yamada said. “Did they expect just one person to carry everything?”
“Head Priest asked me to borrow the laborers,” Katsura replied.
“The other priests can’t help?”
“They’re busy preparing for a mission.”
“I heard priests go into the dungeon, but I don’t know how it works.”
“They man the aid stations, repair broken weapons and items, and generally help out where they can. But they’re civilians; they’re not going to fight unless monsters attack them.”
“Sou da. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen any female warriors around.”
“I heard Commander Marshall doesn’t want to send women into combat. And that no women with combat skills have ever arrived on our island.”
“Sa, if you ever need protection, just call me and I’ll be here.”
She giggled. “What’s with that shounen protagonist line?”
Shounen meant a young man. But in this context…
“Shounen protagonist?” He grinned. “Are you an otaku?”
Her face flushed.
“Come on, let’s go!” she said.
She was definitely a fan of anime and manga.
Crossing level ground was hard enough. But climbing up the stairs with the pole was a going to be a challenge.
He gritted his teeth and got on with it. One step. Two steps. A third.
“Can you make it?” she asked, five steps ahead of him.
“Hai!”
He focused the entirety of his being on climbing the stairs. The load, he noted, wasn’t that heavy. But the carrying pole pressed down into his shoulders, concentrating all that weight on a narrow strip of muscle.
No place to set down the pole here, though. He just kept climbing and climbing and climbing, and the next thing he knew, they had returned to the shrine.
“Good job!” she said.
“Thanks,” he grunted. “Where do I take this?”
“To the kitchen. Come on.”
Around the back of the shrine, there was a small path leading to a cluster of wooden huts.
“Is this where the priests live?” he asked.
“Hai.”
Katsura led him to the largest building, the mess hall, where the cook finally took the load off his shoulder.
“Thank you for your help,” the cook said.
Yamada rotated his arms. “No problem.”
“Here, let me help,” Katsura said.
Fingers drilled into his sore shoulders with surprising strength. Her thumbs pressed deep into his flesh, massaging the pain away.
The cook grinned. “You’ll make a good housewife, Katsura-chan.”
“Mou!” she said. “Don’t tease me!”
The cook laughed. “By the way, Katsura-chan, the Head Priest had a message for you. He wants you to participate in tomorrow’s mission.”
“Me? Why?”
“We need someone to perform the kagura. You’re our only miko available.”
She sighed. “I knew it.”
“How many miko do you have?” Yamada asked.
“Too few.” The cook sighed. “We lost most of our miko three months ago, during a monster attack on an FOB. Including Katsura-chan, we only have four left.”
“That sounds tough,” Yamada replied.
“Un,” Katsura said. “One of them was assigned to train me. The other two rotated between the hospital and the dungeon every day. Nobody had a chance to take a break.”
“You can’t train more miko?”
“There are no more women in the village with the miko skill,” the cook explained. “We can bring in part-timers to help out, but without the miko skill, they can’t perform norito. Without norito, there’s no point sending them into the dungeon.”
“Sou desu ka,” Yamada said.
“I must go now,” Katsura said. “Yamada-han, will you be okay?”
“I can make my own way from here,” he replied.
“Hai.” She bowed. “Hona na!” See you later!
He bowed back.
“Jaa.”
16
Kagura
The following morning, outside their huts, the newly-minted warriors received their squad assignments.
“Yamada Yuuki, Gabriel Hiroshi Matsuo, Ono Kaoru, and Sasaki-sensei, you’re assigned to First Platoon, Third Squad,” Kato said.
“‘Gabriel’?” Sato said.
Everyone turned to Hiroshi. Except Yamada and Sensei.
“What about it?” Hiroshi asked.
“I never knew you had a Christian name,” Sato said.
Hiroshi shrugged. “I don’t use it often.”
Kato cleared his throat. “One-Three is led by Fujiwara Daichi. Fujiwara is one of our finest soldiers, and has been with us since the beginning. You’ll be in good hands.”
The rest of the recruits, including the dojo, were split up and spread out to other squads and platoons. Yamada would have liked everyone to stay together, but such were the needs of war.
Gathering their things, the quartet made their way to 1-3’s hut. It was no different from the one they had just vacated, save that it seemed somewhat older.
“Shitsurei itashimasu!” Yamada called. Pardon the intrusion!
A man stepped out the door. Squat and wiry, he comported himself with a regal posture. His hair was tied into a simple topknot, framing a craggy face lined with thin scars. He stood with perfect balance, his hands close to his sides, and his dark eyes drank in everything they saw.
“Are you the newcomers?” he asked.
His voice held a touch of aristocratic refinement, hinting at superior education and upbringing. While Yamada heard Japanese, Fujiwara’s lips weren’t quite moving properly. It was like watching a bad dub. Yamada realized Fujiwara was speaking classical Japanese.
Yamada bowed. “Hai! Yamada desu! Hajimemashite!”
The man bowed at a slight angle. “I am Sergeant Fujiwara Daichi. Come in.”
There were twelve beds in the hut. All but four were occupied. As the newcomers settled in, everyone introduced themselves by name and squad position. Yamada struggled to squash the facts into his brain.
But one man stood out. An American.
“Adrian Eisenhart, from Los Angeles. Pleased to meetcha. Before you ask, I studied Daito-ryu Aki-jujutsu back home. The brass decided to put me here to make full use of what I learned.”
With the introductions out of the way, Fujiwara said, “You’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other later. For now, squad assignments. Hiroshi, I heard you have the Kishi skill.”
“Hai!” Hiroshi said.
The seniors muttered among themselves.
“We will expect great things from you,” Fujiwara said, unperturbed.
“I won’t let you down.”
“Confident. Good. You will serve in the front line.”
“Hai!”
“Yamada, your skill is Kamikaze. Correct?”
“Hai!” Yamada replied.
The mumbling died immediately. A couple of men looked away.
“Kamikaze is a frontline skill. You will serve alongside Hiroshi.”
“Hai!”
Hiroshi grinned and gave Yamada a thumbs-up. Fujiwara pretended he didn’t notice.
“Ono, you have the Sharpshooter skill, and you have one of the highest crossbow scores among the recruits. You’ll be in the second rank.”
“Wakarimashita!” Ono said.
Fujiwara glided over to Sensei.
“Sasaki-sensei, we do not normally ask men of your age to fight,” Fujiwara said.
“Nonetheless, my students are going to war,” Sensei replied calmly. “It is only proper to fight beside them.”
“I will be honored if you serve in the rearguard.”
“The pleasure is mine, Sergeant.”
“Excellent.” Addressing the squad, Fujiwara said, “Gentlemen, we are now back at full strength. Senpai, watch over your kouhai. Kouhai, study well from your senpai; they have survived many battles and have much to teach you.
“I wish we had the opportunity to train together and learn how we fight. However, we have received a mission and will be deploying shortly.”
“We are ready,” Hiroshi said.
Fujiwara nodded. “Good. Our mission today is to guard the iron mine on the second floor. We will escort the miners to the mine, then stand watch until relieved. It is a straightforward mission, but I expect all of you to be on high alert. Carelessness kills in the dungeon.”
