Ayakashi Moving Service, page 23
“Good heavens,” Xu Fu said with a sigh. “I’m exhausted.”
“Enough of that,” Mr. Takahashi replied. “Why don’t we stop for tempura on the way back since we’re already here?”
“At Hirano? Hmm… I’d rather hop on the highway and head straight home.”
The two men left us on the mountainside. Before long, the sound of the engine faded into the distance.
They’re…leaving?
“Hold on,” I said. “Did they just ditch us? What? Is the van actually gone?”
“They probably intend for me to see you back safely after our conversation.” Shinozaki wiped the detritus from his white robes, heaving a sigh of resignation. He looked me directly in the eye. “Kaede. You need to leave now.”
“No. If you run away, I’ll hit you with my Hayakaken beam again.”
“Cut that out. We’re having a serious conversation here.”
A gust of wind rattled the trees, producing a sound far louder than it should have. The autumn leaves stirred at our feet and spiraled into the air to cause a small vortex between us.
I took a step toward Shinozaki. “You promised to take responsibility when you absorbed my spiritual energy, didn’t you?”
“You don’t have to worry about your spiritual energy any—”
“I’m not talking about that.” I took a deep breath, then said forcefully, “Aren’t you going to take responsibility for kissing me? For my feelings for you?”
“Would you like me to help you find a husband?”
“If you don’t see me romantically because I’m not Sakura, just say so. I’ll give up then.”
“No, that’s not it.” He shook his head, his expression pained. “I promise that’s not it.”
He wasn’t trying to escape. I breathed a sigh of relief. He would talk to me.
“I don’t want to make you miserable,” he said. “Like I did Sakura.”
“So you’re abandoning a woman you have feelings for because you don’t want to make her miserable? How self-important can you be? I’ll decide for myself if I’m unhappy, thank you very much. Besides…”
I clenched my fists and took another step toward him. His eyes watered as I looked up at him, and the sight of his face reminded me how much I loved him. I could accept our parting, though it would splinter my heart. But I still needed to state one very important point.
“It’s not for you to decide if Sakura was unhappy either,” I said.
He inhaled sharply.
“I don’t know my past self,” I admitted. “Even so, I think she was happy. She might have been an orphan in the Sengoku period, but she found a place to work thanks to her abilities. She didn’t have to worry about food, clothing, or shelter. She enjoyed a comfortable existence, befriending ayakashi and noble samurai alike. She loved and worked with all her might, never letting go of her dream.”
“She died at the bottom of a well after being cursed!” roared Shinozaki, his voice breaking. “How can you call that happy?!”
“At the very least, she chose her fate!” I shouted.
His eyes widened.
I prayed for my words to reach the innermost depths of his heart, his lonely heart besieged by remorse for hundreds of years. “She could have run away at any time,” I said. “Instead, she lived her utmost until the very end! She was reborn as me in Higashi Ward because she was happy! She wanted to stay in the shadow of Mount Tachibana, where she’d lived with all her loved ones!”
“No… No, you’re wrong. Sakura would have been so much happier if she hadn’t met me!”
“Shinozaki. Do your best to remember the real Sakura. Don’t let your regret twist her into someone sad and pathetic!”
“She— Sakura was…” He trailed off.
“According to Tsukushi, Sakura never bemoaned her circumstances. She didn’t resent Lady Ginchiyo. She lived with all her heart to the very end. Can you not accept the pride she felt in fulfilling her role?”
Shinozaki’s tail trembled. The tall, handsome man stared at me with the eyes of a lost child. When I stood on tiptoe to hug him, his breath caught.
I pulled us closer and rubbed his back, hoping to relax his rigid body and hardened heart. “I have to admit it must have been lonely for you,” I murmured. “You were waiting and she never showed up in the end.”
“I…” he choked.
“Of course, how could anyone bear the thought of their loved one dying in a faraway, unknown place? I can’t deny how heartbroken you must have been. So allow me to apologize on Sakura’s behalf: I’m sorry.”
“You’re not Sakura.” Despite his chastising tone, he wasn’t angry. “So don’t apologize, Kaede.”
My chest warmed when he said my name. “Guess not, huh?”
He gently returned my backrub as, almost to himself, he mumbled, “To begin with, it was wrong for a fox and his master to couple.”
“It’s the Reiwa Era, dummy. Even international and gay marriages are the norm nowadays. A shapeshifting fox and a human are hardly a problem.” I paused for a beat. “Thank Tenjin, right?”
Shinozaki fell silent.
I tightened my embrace. “Don’t reject me because you’re scared of making me miserable,” I said. “Don’t reject me because of my past life. Don’t reject me because I’m a human and you’re a fox. If you’re not interested in me, reject me. If you give me that much, I’ll be able to cry and move on.”
“I…”
A large shape fluttered down from the trees to land lightly on the ground.
“Shino,” Tsukushi said. “You’ve lost. And so have I.”
“Tsukushi…” he and I whispered at the same time.
She smiled, a touch of melancholy in her eyes. “I’m glad you can still say my name with so much kindness, Kaede.”
Nine tails spilled out of her white dress, and pointed ears poked from her golden-brown hair. Evidently, she didn’t plan to hide today.
She walked over to us and placed her forehead against Shinozaki’s back. “Now that Kaede has regained her spiritual energy and chased you all the way here, I can no longer defy her. After all, she and I are still master and servant.” Tsukushi shrugged. “I admit defeat. I did everything I could to make the people I love—Kaede, Sakura, and my little brother—happy. But I was just being meddlesome, wasn’t I?”
She drew back reluctantly, then smiled at us, her hair whipping in the wind. “The rest is up to you, Shino. I’ll go to the Far Shore by myself, so you don’t have to worry about my meddling any longer. I’m sorry for being so manipulative.”
“Wha—?!” I yelped. I slipped out of Shinozaki’s arms and grabbed Tsukushi’s hands.
“K-Kaede?” she stammered, her eyes going wide. She looked so similar to Shinozaki with her golden-brown hair.
“Why are you leaving?” I demanded, leaning close to her beautiful face.
“Huh?”
“Is there some reason you have to go? Why not stay?”
“U-Um…” She stared at me, bewildered, her large eyes seeming to grow even bigger. “You’re not angry with me?”
“Not really. After all, you played the villain in an effort to make us happy, didn’t you?”
“I did, but—”
“Then all’s well that ends well, right? So let’s keep spending time together.”
“You’re sure that’s okay?”
“Of course. I’d be devastated to lose my childhood friend!”
Tsukushi, my precious friend, had always been there for me. I understood that, more than I ever had, yet I couldn’t tell what she thought of my declaration. My heart would break if she disappeared.
She burst out laughing. “You really are an oddball,” she giggled.
Shinozaki nodded, chuckling. “She really is.”
“Wait, what? I didn’t say anything weird!”
Once Tsukushi’s laughter had died down, she and Shinozaki exchanged glances. Their eyes sparkled joyously—as though a centuries-long burden had lifted from their shoulders.
“Very well then,” she said. “I can’t leave you helpless little things here and venture to the Far Shore alone.” She gently pushed me in front of Shinozaki.
He and I gazed at each other.
“Kaede,” he said.
“Yes?”
His hair fluttered in the autumn breeze. I could see myself reflected in his gorgeous, golden eyes. Surely, I marveled, I will remember this moment for the rest of my life.
“I’ll do my best not to,” he said, “but forgive me if I ever mistake you for Sakura.”
“I’ve already taken that into consideration,” I replied. “That sort of thing is par for the course when you date a guy who can’t get over his ex.”
“Have you, uh, ever dated a guy like that?”
“Of course not. I’ve never dated anyone in the twenty years I’ve been alive.”
“So…” he said, “you’re sure you don’t want to do a trial run with a normal human first?”
“Sorry, but I don’t intend to date anyone as a test.”
“If you choose to stay with me…don’t blame me if you die from some ayakashi-related complication.”
“Even if I live a full lifespan, I only have eighty years left at best,” I said. “I’m trusting you to protect me with all your strength for that time.”
“Never leave me,” he whispered.
“I could ask the same of you. No matter how old I get… No matter what I end up looking like, never leave me.”
“I…” He strained to speak. “I don’t want to face this world without you ever again.”
“If that’s what you want, I’ll consider renouncing my humanity.”
“That can wait.” Shinozaki wrapped his arms around me. “There’s no need to rush into anything, Kaede.”
I looped my own around his neck, careful not to smear foundation on his snow-white kimono.
“Don’t ever abandon me again,” he said.
“I won’t. Can you promise me the same thing?”
“Of course. I’ll never let go of you.”
Tsukushi caught my eye from behind Shinozaki. “See you later,” she mouthed, waving goodbye before vanishing.
Another autumn gust rustled the mountain grove, and Shinozaki’s ears and tail bobbed in its wake. When I pulled a leaf from his hair, he furrowed his brow momentarily then laughed.
“Shinozaki.”
“Yeah?”
“Kiss me again. Not to absorb my spiritual energy. A normal kiss.”
“…Later.”
“Seriously?” I asked.
We broke into smiles at nearly the same time. Alone in the mountain grove, we nuzzled our foreheads together, laughing softly.
If only we could stay in this moment forever.
Shinozaki’s four-hundred-year love story thus came to a happy end.
🍁🍁🍁
ONE thousand years previous, a vixen was born in Chikushino. She came into the world and spent her entire life as an animal. Afterward, she achieved apotheosis as a shapeshifting fox alongside her younger brother. The siblings practiced sadhana over many, many years, thereby increasing their number of tails. By the end of the Muromachi period, they each had five.
During the second year of the Genki era, Dōsetsu Bekki took up residence in Tachibanayama Castle as the military governor of Chikuzen Province. He adopted Sakura, a young priestess, and through her formed a contract with the vulpine pair. He similarly bestowed power upon them via the goddess Dakiniten.
The kitsune worked diligently, protecting the Tachibana clan as war deities. In return, the Tachibana provided them with spiritual energy and a place of belonging. As a symbol of their contract, the foxes received the names of Tsukushi and Shino. So long as those names endured, they would remain loyal to Sakura, who served the Tachibana and the land of Tachibana itself.
Sakura, the sole survivor of a band of wandering miko, was an odd girl. Although an orphan, she wasn’t very world-wise, and in truth, she didn’t serve Dōsetsu Bekki. Rather, she served his daughter, Lady Ginchiyo, who didn’t fit the typical mold of a young noblewoman either.
The two girls, both strange in their own right, got along swimmingly. While master and servant, they were as close as sisters. Thus the miko, lady castellan, and two vulpine siblings formed a tight-knit group of four.
Alas, their peculiar relationship couldn’t last forever. Sakura, the miko, lost her mind and drowned at the bottom of a well. Ginchiyo, the lady castellan, died of fever in a small village at the young age of thirty-three. Both were victims of the era in which they’d been born.
The loss of his beloved miko was too painful for Shino, the male fox, to bear. He eventually became a disastrous force that wreaked havoc upon Chikushino.
As everything fell to ruin, the female kitsune, Tsukushi, found herself adrift. Until she disguised herself as a young girl and, one by one, massacred the sorcerers who’d cursed Sakura. Afterward, she brought her younger brother, calamity incarnate, to heel.
“Kill me,” Shino pleaded, his eyes hollow.
Her pitiful brother had been reduced to a one-tailed fox after forfeiting the power gained through sadhana.
“Kill me,” he repeated. “I don’t want to live in a world without Sakura.”
“I love you,” said Tsukushi. “How could I ever kill my one and only little brother?” She spoke with absolute sincerity. She’d loved Sakura just as much as Shino. Yet Tsukushi had begun to hate Sakura for breaking his heart, though she knew her resentment was illogical.
Once Shino recovered from their battle, imprisoned within her magic, Tsukushi visited him with a proposal. “Shino,” she said, “let’s live on the Far Shore together. All the ayakashi that have gone before us are already there.”
As the human realm flourished, the places in which ayakashi could live on the Near Shore had dwindled. Local deities survived via syncretic transformation, adopting names from the Buddhist and Shinto pantheons. Shapeshifting ayakashi posed as humans. One by one, however, ayakashi without such ability left for the Far Shore.
Those who ventured there could never return. Tsukushi initially despised the idea of retreating to the Far Shore, an option of last resort solely because she’d been driven out of the human realm. But she began to consider the idea in a more positive light. Perhaps she and her brother could live happily ever after.
Unfortunately, Shino rejected her suggestion.
“I want to see Sakura again,” he said. “If only one more time.” Little by little, his eyes had regained the light of sanity, and he wished to reunite with the reincarnated priestess.
Who put this idea in his head?
His wish developed into obsession. Yet even as time healed his wounds and he reclaimed his spiritual energy, he remained a one-tailed fox.
“It won’t return in full until you let go of your attachment.” Desperation tinged her voice. “Do you want to remain a pathetic, one-tailed fox forever?”
“I don’t mind,” Shino replied, the spark fully returned to his eyes. “I’ve chosen to live with the agony of this sigil on my chest.”
Tsukushi loved Shino more than anything. More than herself.
“If that’s what you’ve decided,” she said, “then I understand.”
She couldn’t abandon him. So she lingered on the Near Shore, neither too close nor too far from him.
Shino moved into a hokora in Fukuoka. With Princess Hainuzuka’s backing, he started a business that helped ayakashi find work and community.
“Insufferable mutt.” Tsukushi bit her nails. “How could she give my poor Shino such fleeting hope?”
He spent his days toiling for the sake of other ayakashi, and from Tsukushi’s perspective, his actions seemed like atonement. He wanted to save people like Sakura and Ginchiyo, his departed loved ones who’d died as outcasts in the human realm.
“Reincarnated individuals possess the same soul, yes, but they don’t inherit memories from their past lives,” Tsukushi said to herself. “Shino will be devastated when he encounters Sakura again and she’s forgotten everything. I have to kill her reincarnation before then.”
Love—too much love—lit the fire of resolve within her.
🍁🍁🍁
FOUR hundred years passed. Over the centuries, she became a nine-tailed kitsune. One day, she heard the first cries of Sakura’s newborn reincarnation.
At long last, the time had come.
Tsukushi would murder Sakura before she and Shino could meet. The vixen bounded toward the infant, her chest bursting with joy to finally fulfill her vow. At the hospital, she shapeshifted into a nurse.
She regarded the baby. Swaddled in white cloth and lying next to her mother in the maternity ward, the child slept soundly, not a trace of understanding on her face.
“I’m sorry,” Tsukushi murmured, “but I can’t allow Shino to suffer any more than he already has.” She extended a lethal finger toward the infant—and the infant grabbed it. Overpowering spiritual energy, so reminiscent of Sakura’s, coursed from the baby’s hand, rendering Tsukushi incapable of doing anything.
She broke into tears as the energy flooded her soul. “Sakura…” she sobbed. “You’ve finally reincarnated.”
In the end, she couldn’t kill Kaede Kikui, Sakura’s reincarnation. The reunion, four hundred years in the making, reminded Tsukushi of her original feelings. She loved Shino, and she also loved Sakura. In her heart, hadn’t she always wanted to protect Sakura?
Rather than kill Kaede, Tsukushi kept a close eye on her. She watched over the human girl from the shadows and in broad daylight, maintaining a constant magical barrier around her. Tsukushi ensured that Kaede lived a healthy, normal life. Likewise, she distanced Kaede from ayakashi and anything abnormal.
Sometimes, she felt a twinge of guilt. Had normalcy become a prison for the girl? Regardless, she continued to protect Kaede.
“Tsukushi!” Kaede cried.
The two of them became close friends. Kaede always wore an innocent smile, and her heart was full of love for Tsukushi.
The years passed, marked by flurries of cherry blossoms.
Kaede’s mother dressing her in her preschool uniform.
