~The sister of the Emperor's Murderer was a vile and beautiful woman.
~Instead of mourning her fallen brother, she used the beauty she'd shared with him to spread her legs for the most influential of men — a prince of Imperial descent.
~While her lowly origin prevented the born son from inheriting imperial titles, it secured him and his vixen mother a rank and a title, an official status and a proper estate in Heian — for all those who henceforth went by the name
...Sumeragi. ~
The Tree's crown quivered. The chronicle still lay in the hollow among its boughs where Yue had left it. Only a few of the Sakurazukamori succeeding him had been allowed to read it. In almost two-hundred years, Seishiro had been the first.
The Tree hummed. It remembered how Yue had sat on its roots, carefully working the brush, creating dainty looking symbols that somehow told the tale for those to come after him. It had prodded the edge of the paper with a blossom-cushioned twig after Yue had put the brush aside and leaned back, only to find the twig being batted away with a warning about the ink. It had sunk another, bare twig into the back of his collar, scraping across his neck, curling forward around his larynx...
It remembered his quiet voice much later, explaining the symbols. His laughter about its attempts to draw with sap. Sap hadn't been sufficiently dark; blood on the other hand...
Sakyo-ku, Kyoto
November 20, 1991 (Wednesday)
The house was comparatively new, less than ten years old. The purification performed when it was built could still be felt from where Subaru knelt on the floor boards in the second storey — right under the slanted roof. When he began, the sun had been shining through the windows embedded in it; now it was nearing midday and clouds had taken the sky, filling the window reflections in the water bowl in front of him. The ofuda, tied to the daggers planted left and right of it, fluttered in an unseen, unfelt wind. Subaru focused more strongly and began another, more powerful incantation. Sweat that had formed on his brow an hour ago was drying and itched on his skin. The exorcism was difficult, because the spirit not only wanted to be here, but was actually wanted here.
The child in the crib stirred. The click of a tongue calmed it. A book was closed with finality and wise old eyes looked at Subaru across the mirror of the water bowl. "Young man, the fact that you are lonely doesn't entitle you to force everybody else to be lonely, too!" The old woman in her decent traditional kimono straightened to her full height, reaching barely up to his chin...
...and dissolved in a whisper of gossamer and dust.
Subaru bowed his head. "Sayonara, obaa-s—"
"Obaa-chan!" The little boy in the crib wailed; his tiny fists curled tight around the edge of the lattices. "Obaa-chan!" His wide, frightened eyes stared at Subaru. "Mama! The bad man has taken obaa-chan!"
The child wept. The mother hastened to chastise him, but Subaru intervened. "It's alright." He's right.
Subaru placed a protective ofuda above the crib and left the house and the relieved but entirely embarrassed mother a few moments later. The cries of the family's only son were still ringing in his ears. Cries for the banished spirit, who'd given a grandmother's warmth to a lonely child and read fairy tales from his favorite book.
"Young man, the fact that you are lonely doesn't entitle you to force everybody else to be lonely, too!"
The spirit's words, the chiding of a dead grandmother, still held more warmth than his own grandmother had for him these days.
He stepped down onto the garden path. The clouds overhead promised rain and there was no wind to ease the thick, heavy air lying over the old city. Late November — too late for the beauty of the autumn leaves, too early for the crisp clarity of winter. A time of in-between. In between... like his sister's wandering spirit.
Tomorrow, it would be a hundred days since Hokuto died. Tomorrow... In the house behind him, the little boy was still crying.
Subaru hoisted the strap of the satchel holding his paraphernalia further up his shoulder. It was slipping down more often these days. His grandmother complained about his posture and reminded him to eat more regularly — he kept failing in both. She didn't know about the nights he spent awake searching for Hokuto's spirit.
He spotted his driver waiting outside the client's house at the sidewalk. Sumeragi Hamamatsu leaned, arms crossed, against the car. He tried to look intimidating with his size and grim demeanor, but it didn't work. There just wasn't enough power or intelligence behind the dark face to leave any impression. Not like—
Subaru clenched his fist around his satchel's strap, and crossed onto the sidewalk heading for the car. A rear door was held open for him; his return acknowledged with a proper bow. Subaru knew he had no choice but to enter.
They weren't taking chances with him any longer. He put his satchel on the seat next to him and leaned back to look quietly out of the window at the cars moving slowly through this residential neighborhood in east Kyoto. The air smelled of car and leather polish; outside it had smelled of wet wood and leaves.
"Subaru-san, please fasten your seat-belt," his driver said sternly. "We cannot depart until you do so."
Subaru wondered if they would really stay where they were indefinitely if he refused to put on his belt. But most likely not, most likely it would be put on him at some point.
It was easier to comply.
The buckle clicked. The engine whirred up and the heavy car threaded itself into the traffic.
"Did something happen, Subaru-san?" Hamamatsu inquired.
"Mama! The bad man has taken obaa-chan!"
The first thick drops of rain splattered on the windscreen and Hamamatsu switched on the screen wipers.
"No," Subaru said monotonously into their irregular back and forth. "Nothing untoward happened."
Sagano-cho, Kyoto (West)
Sumeragi Family Residence
November 21, 1991
Smoke welled from the large fire bowls surrounding the inner yard. Yesterday's rain and the overall humidity afterwards had wetted the wood pellets. Dark clouds billowed outside, following the arriving guests into the house where numerous censers added scented smoke to the sooty haze. Like the fires outside, they were part of the purification. Today the household's mourning ended. The stain of death that had come over the clan would be removed by fire and salt. Since August 14, the kamidana had been safely sealed in rice paper to protect it from the impurity. In the evening Subaru, as thirteenth head of the clan and their spiritual leader, would take off his mofuku and light the reverence lamps in front of Amaterasu and the other kami.
He welcomed the mourning guests at the entrance to the great hall, where a table with offerings had been set up. He thanked them for their presence and offerings at the funeral and handed out the returning gift in Hokuto's name. His hands did not tremble when he gave the next marked envelope to elder Shihoko and received the proper bow in return. Subaru answered her bow a moment late, earning himself a frown. His grandmother's wheelchair stood next to him; she welcomed the guests on her own after they'd paid him their condolences. He fought the tremor in his hands, not wanting her to notice his fatigue.
He had tried to find Hokuto again last night, as he had tried every night since the forty-ninth day after she died, when her spirit was supposed to have entered eternity. Since then he had gone on four hours of sleep every night, sometimes less...
...and still no results, no trace of his sister, neither here nor there. Where could she be? What could have happened to her? Had the Sakurazukamori done more than just kill her?
He should be in Tokyo, in Ueno searching for his sister; instead he was in Kyoto, handing out gifts in her name and memory, all the while knowing that she wasn't where she should be. It was a lie, an illusion of normalcy where there was only pain and regret.
He bowed, giving his thanks for the next guest's attendance, when a sharp, disapproving voice behind him told his grandmother that, "A head of the clan shouldn't lower himself to hand out the token for a deceased girl of no talent."
"He's young and she was his sister, Shihoko-san." Subaru heard his grandmother say firmly. "We can hardly forbid him to honor her memory as her brother."
"Still, it isn't appropriate," Shihoko insisted.
"Let me care about the proprieties in my house," his grandmother said coldly. "As I see, you did accept the end-of-mourning token from his hands, didn't you?"
"Elder Shihoko ought to know when to keep her voice down," the man in front of him said in a low voice, taking the envelope from Subaru's hands.
Surprised, Subaru looked up, recognizing Omi Tono after a moment. They'd met a couple of times; Omi worked the rural western districts of Tokyo prefecture; an unobtrusive man with moderate abilities. Subaru answered his wry smile with a solemn nod.
He sighed silently after Omi had moved on. It was going to be a long day. Keeping one's voice down wasn't the same as reconsidering one's opinion. The skin at the base of his neck prickled; looking back, he spotted elder Shihoko, staring at him from across the room while conversing with other clan members. He bowed to the next guest, suppressing another sigh. A very long day.
Night was falling outside when the last guests finally left and the large house became silent. Silent, except for the ancient wood creaking as it cooled in the dark, except for the tatami rustling under quietly placed feet of servants brushing the strewn salt away. He was weary. The shikifuku was like a dead weight on his shoulders, trying to drag him down to the floor... and deeper. He carefully observed the rites, dropping to one knee, rinsing hands and mouth with water, before he unbound the band of prayer beads running around his collar.
With uneasy fingers, he fumbled at the strings holding the garment in place. It took some time before he got the knots loose and carefully removed the coat. He would have to put it on again after divesting himself of the mofuku that he still wore underneath. He looked down at his arms. The plain black silk obscured them in a darkness that was only eased by the light falling in from the main hall. Hiding in the dark... Living in darkness...
The shikifuku creased in his hands. He couldn't bring himself to untie the mofuku, to touch the kamidana. He couldn't. He—
"Sumeragi-sama?"
He raised his head, startled. "Yes?".
A maid was kneeling in the open shoji to the main hall. "Sumeragi-dono requests your presence regarding urgent clan matters."
"Now?" he asked in disbelief. Surely his grandmother knew...
"Yes." The maid bowed deeply.
Subaru gathered himself up. Passing the door, he caught the disapproving glance the maid threw at him. He shouldn't be wearing mofuku any more.
"Subaru-san." His grandmother acknowledged him with a formal nod after he sat down on the cushion opposite her. "I take it that you are well."
"I am well, grandmother," he answered in a low voice, carefully schooled not to reveal weariness or pain.
"You haven't changed yet," she remarked. "Mofuku isn't the appropriate dress for this occasion, Subaru-san."
"I'm sorry, grandmother. I haven't had the time before your call."
She nodded and offered him tea. He accepted the tiny bowl with the required formality, wetted his lips with the green liquid and waited for her to continue.
"I've been informed that your injuries are completely healed. We are relieved that the titanium strut in your arm had no detrimental effect on your performance."
"It was only a hindrance until the muscles had rebuilt." He put the tea bowl down, resting his hands calmly on his thighs.
"I see." She waved for a maid to remove the tea bowls and waited for the girl to leave the room afterwards. The shoji was closed. All the shoji were closed. "Since your sister is no longer among us—"
Subaru almost winced.
"—and our enemy has demonstrated a clear advantage over you—"
Subaru's throat tightened.
"—the clan can no longer afford to make concessions regarding your youth."
Concessions? "What do you mean, grandmother?"
"Subaru-san, you have the strongest spiritual gift born into the Sumeragi clan for a very long time. More so, you are a twin—"
This time, Subaru did wince.
"—and there are peculiarities regarding twins in our line that, so far, allowed us not to burden you with certain necessities, especially at your tender age. However, that is no longer an option. The responsibility for preserving the exceptional gift of your line for the clan can no longer rest with your sister."
November 22, 1991 — 04:28
The shoji to the garden were closed. November in Kyoto was too cold to keep them open. Subaru lay on his futon. Light from the inner hall fell in a long trace across his room, across his legs. The fusuma were kept open despite the draft; they were keeping him within sight. There were always eyes on him these days. Eyes, judging, guarding, expecting... He rolled onto his side, turning his back to the open shoji. Servants moved outside in the hall, undoubtedly instructed not to disturb him right now. The reverence lights flickered in the dark. Somebody had unwrapped the kamidana and lit them while he'd been at his grandmother's.
"You will marry, Subaru-san."
The polished kanji on Amaterasu's board in the center of the kamidana danced in the uneasy light, mocking him.
Suddenly, he smelled wet wood and leaves...
An owl was crying...
...calling him to his feet in the small hours of dawn when the last of the servants had gone to bed.
Sitting, cross-legged, behind a gap of the shoji, Subaru watched the first dim light turn the morning fog into silver veils. The gap was narrow, merely the width of a finger; any wider and the guards patrolling the estate outside would notice and bother him with inquiries.
He didn't want to explain himself. In fact, he didn't know if he even could; he had tried to explain himself far too often to people who lacked the basic discernment necessary to understand his reasons. He'd never realized how thin the true gift was scattered among those surrounding him...
The guard finally crossed around the corner. Subaru pushed the shoji aside and slipped out onto the engawa. Dark clothes, fit for the mourning he was no longer supposed to observe, also hid him well in the uneasy light of an autumn morning that already smelled of the winter to come. He slid the shoji back into its place and silently edged across the engawa. The fog had covered the dark floor in dew; he left wet footprints behind where his flat-soled shoes touched the oiled wood.
After jumping down to the yard — scandalously outside the warded steps — he kept close to the bushes and conifers until he'd passed the garden lake and clambered over the stones where the estate swept down towards the Oi river.
Before his initiation in Tokyo, Hokuto and he had sometimes climbed over the wall there and escaped down to the river, searching the tiny silver fish in the shallow parts further down the stream. They'd been six or seven. He remembered her laughter when she had caught one and dropped the pitiful creature down the back of the shikifuku he'd still been wearing. He'd squeaked at the cold, slippery something twitching down his spine and — trying desperately to get rid of it — had slipped and fallen onto his backside in the muddy, ankle-deep water. Hokuto had nearly toppled in after him, she'd been laughing so hard.
The path leading down to the river was barely visible in the thick shrubs. Overgrown and abandoned. It was a long time ago that two children had run down to the river, going after the fish—
He'd been thoroughly soaked with mud-brown water that day and grandmother had scolded him afterwards, about his disrespect for propriety, for the holy symbols he'd dirtied.
But she hadn't talked about the frightened fish, which must have been terrified before escaping back into the Oi. She hadn't talked about Hokuto—
He balled his fist, left the path to the right and made his way through the undergrowth towards the street and the bus stop...
Sakyo-ku, Kyoto (East)
Shimogamo Shrine
Two hours later
Tall evergreen trees lined the path. The forest growing around Shimogamo was the last piece of true wilderness left within Kyoto's boundaries. It had never been cut, never been planted or pruned. Even after burning down in the thirteenth century together with the shrine it protected it had rebounded on its own.
With every step along the path winding itself towards the shrine, the undergrowth became thicker. Morning fog still hung about the path, as if the trees held the clouds captive. Subaru was glad when the bright red of Shimogamo's torii finally gleamed through the fog and the foliage.
It was too early for Shimogamo to have opened its gates to the public and the paths on its premises were still deserted except for the occasional animal and spirit to flit across and disappear into the ever-changing shadows of the surrounding forest.
Subaru could visit the shrine outside the common opening times. Shimogamo would always welcome a Sumeragi. His family had placated the gods when they had been about to destroy the young settlement in which his clan had taken its residence — not that he knew why the gods had been angry or why his family had been bestowed with the rank and the residence in the first place. The first chronicle spoke of "imperial honor and gratitude" but it was rather vague on details.
The gate was framed by the famous twin sakura that bent towards each other and became one in the height. Their leaves were already falling, revealing the rough black bark underneath. Subaru froze. For a moment, he saw in their stead another tree with a single mighty trunk that plunged its bloodthirsty roots deep into the soil and—
An owl called in the depths of the dark trees beyond the shrine. The fog still hung in the air in the ancient wood, keeping the area dark, cold and ominous.
'Tadasu no Mori' it was called, the forest to reveal lies, the forest to find the truth.
Truth was what he sought. And feared. He followed the path around the shrine and back among the trees. The fog clung to his clothes, following him, thickening around him; the trees, tied together by impenetrable undergrowth left and right of the path, closed in and became obscured in the earth-bound clouds.
"You will marry, Subaru-san," his grandmother's voice whispered behind him.
Startled, he turned, a hand closing around an ofuda in his pocket, but there was no one, only the swirling fog.
"Young man, the fact that you are lonely doesn't entitle you to force everybody else to be lonely, too!"
But he'd banned the old woman's spirit—
"I take it that you are well," his grandmother said casually. "Now that your sister is no longer among us."
"That is not true!" he cried out, hurt.
...True...true...true... echoed back through the fog. The owl called again. Lonely. Seeking. Belonging to a place older than he, older than the Sumeragi. He'd come to find the truth within the forest's boundaries, to hear his own thoughts again, because the expectations of his clan drowned him out at home, but... wasn't home also an illusion then?
An illusion like the one that bound him to the cherry tree?
Black roots at the border to the realm of Death had thrown him back, tearing the shikifuku while leaving the mofuku underneath intact. Had the Sakura kept him from reaching Hokuto? Or from reaching too far?
Hokuto had died in his stead, for him. Venturing into the realm of Death... that wasn't what she'd wanted for him.
"What do you want, Subaru?" Hokuto's voice said behind him. He turned again and the undergrowth closed around him. Leaves and twigs caught in his clothes and hair, scratched over his face.
...what do you want... want... want?... echoed the fog around him.
To kill him, he rebelled.
...Really?... whispered the traitorous voice behind him into his ear. ...Why?...
"He killed my sister!" he insisted as he struggled against the tangled undergrowth that trapped him.
...Why?... The fog brushed cold wet fingers across his nape.
Subaru whirled, lashed out at it. Laughter surrounded him. "She went instead of me!"
A breath against his cheek. ...Why?...
"I'm her brother!" He froze.
...brother...brother...brother... echoed the fog, rippling around him. Streaks of light were breaking through its veils. Leaves moving in the morning breeze glittered in the sun. The path was a mere step beside him. A last feather of fog whispered over his skin. ...What do you want?...
He slowly, consciously opened his fists, relaxing his hands finger by finger away from the wet cloth of his shirt.
"I want to mourn my sister."
Sagano-cho, Kyoto (West)
Sumeragi Family Residence
Early Afternoon
Subaru went to see his grandmother wearing the deep black silk of the mofuku again, no other colors, no embroidery other than the crest of five tiny pentacles at the end points of a larger pentacle that was woven directly into the silk on the right side of his chest. He was mourning his sister and he wasn't done yet. He — the brother she'd died for — not the clan head he'd had to be since she'd died.
The house had been in uproar when he'd returned three hours ago, with muddy shoes, wet clothes and leaves sticking in his hair. Security had rushed out on the street when they spotted him coming down from the bus stop. He hadn't taken the route over the wall again. This was his home, his house, wasn't it? He'd entered through the door, ignoring inquiries by voices hardened by concern. His grandmother had waited on the engawa and it had taken all his strength not to react to her reproachful look.
"Grandmother," he'd greeted her respectfully. "Please excuse my appearance. I will speak with you once I've changed."
The maid, helping her with the chair in the house, had gasped when he'd walked past them, leaving wet footprints on the dark wood.
"Subaru-san," his grandmother had said at his back. "Do you know how worried we were?"
He'd closed his eyes at the quiet scolding and pretended not to hear.
Now he sat again in his grandmother's rooms, like he'd sat less than twenty-four hours ago. This time, no tea was offered to ease the graveness of the situation. No tea wanted, either. He had stated his point. He would state it again and again if he had to.
"A year?" His grandmother looked at him in utter disbelief. "Subaru-san, do you know what ensuring your safety costs each day? You put a considerable burden on the clan with your request. We have to keep the security measurements in place until—"
"Drop them. They won't stop Sei— the Sakurazukamori anyway."
His grandmother winced. "You are a kind boy, Subaru-san, and there are options which perhaps have not occurred to—"
"Obaa-san." He said it patiently. "I've been there. I've seen, felt, experienced what he can do if he chooses to and none of this—" His gesture was meant to cover the whole estate. "—will stop him."
"You are too calm about a matter of—"
Subaru shrugged. "He won't come for me anyway."
"You can't be sure of that. The Sakurazukamori—"
"—could have killed me that day," Subaru reminded her quietly. "He had ample time and he didn't."
His grandmother studied him for a moment. "Do you believe he feels something for you?" she asked softly. "Subaru-san, the Sakurazukamori is incapable of that. He—"
"I know." Subaru interrupted her calmly. "He told me." He waited a moment to let her absorb the reminder that he, not she, knew the Sakurazukamori in person. "Obaa-san. He won't kill me because I'm not worth the bother. Hokuto offered herself in my stead and he accepted the offer. For him it is over." Feeling his voice quiver, he drew a deep breath; then he raised his head and faced the former head of the Sumeragi squarely.
"I will mourn my sister properly for a full year. I won't contemplate marriage or anything related with it until then." He stood, bowed and turned to leave. "And drop the security. I don't need it."
"Subaru-san," his grandmother asked quietly at his back. "Do you wish to die by his hand?"
He almost faltered in his steps. Almost. In his heart he did; in the world he kept going, left the room, and closed the shoji behind him… without looking back.
to be continued in
Family Matters 05 - Spring Thaw
Notes:
Heian, the old name of Kyoto, became the Japanese capital in the Heian era (794 — 1185)
The kanji for Sumeragi is a symbol for emperor; in meaning it could be something along the lines of "Of Imperial Descent".
Shimogamo shrine & Tadasu no Mori. The Shimogamo Shrine is believed to date back to the 6th century. The joining sakura trees in front of one of its gates exist. The forest on its premises, Tadasu no Mori, is less than a kilometer long and only about 250 meters wide at its broadest spot.