It had poured down the entire morning, but by the time their slow procession reached the tomb, the sun had returned, streaking the grassy pathway with light.
Awazuki squeezed Meizuki's shoulder and kept her gaze to her shoes, trying very hard to think about anything but the two men walking before her and the burden they carried. The moisture seeping into her socks only distracted her for so long, so she focused instead on the sunlight. Would it be possible to have it rise from the ground, like trees, instead of waiting for the heavens to bless them with it? She'd have to ask Hijiri.
They waited outside as the men entered the tomb. Meizuki had wept for so long Awazuki was surprised she still had tears remaining, but even now she was sniffling.
Even knowing it would be a cold comfort, Awazuki stroked her hair.
Meizuki made a small, appreciative noise, and leaned in closer. That was something, at least.
They returned to the shrine in their lonesome, with the men bowing and scampering off their way as soon as their repulsive task was done. They walked in silence; Awazuki didn't trust herself to speak, while Meizuki appeared lost in another world entirely, her eyes staring into the distance without seeing anything.
It was only after they were back on the courtyard that Awazuki found her voice. "Rest. The villagers can wait till tomorrow."
Meizuki wiped her red-rimmed eyes and attempted a smile. It made her look so much like a child again it was all Awazuki could do from keeping herself from clutching her against her chest and never letting go.
The smile faded as quickly as it appeared. "What about you?"
"I'll..." Awazuki looked around. "I'll sweep the courtyard."
Meizuki looked at her for a while, then nodded. Before entering the shrine, however, she turned and pressed Awazuki's hand.
"Thank you."
Awazuki watched her slide the door shut, then walked to the side of the building and grabbed the broom. Without further ado, she began sweeping.
Just the two of them, then. The last remnants of the main family of the Hakurei clan. Perhaps she'd yet have to marry, assuming Meizuki didn't find a suitor or that they wouldn't simply accept the situation and allow a branch family to inherit their place.
She shuddered and kept sweeping. Decisions like that could wait. All that for the time being mattered was keeping Meizuki safe and Reishoumiya in one piece.
Just like Grandmother would have wanted.
She looked to make sure once again that the door was definitely closed, then placed the broom against the ground before leaning her weight into it.
As soon as the first choking sob escaped her throat, she knew there was no keeping the rest of them down, either. She crouched down, still holding the broom, and allowed the sorrow and anguish she had kept bottled up since the previous night pour out of her. In a matter of moments, she could no longer see the courtyard from her tears.
She didn't know how long she had cried, only that her breathing sounded ragged in her ears, and suddenly she was painfully conscious Meizuki was bound to hear her howling through the thin walls of the shrine.
The thought gave her pause — hadn't it been for Meizuki's sake that she had been strong? — but now that it was unleashed, it was nigh impossible to rein her mourning. She let the broom clatter to the ground and covered her mouth with both hands, but still she could hear the high-pitched wails which appeared to stem from her at their own volition.
Finally, after blinking her eyes clear of the worst of the tears, she managed to focus her attention on a shrivelled flower growing at the edge of the courtyard. Still gasping for air, she teetered over and cupped her hands around the plant, concentrating.
She felt ever so slightly better as soon as she felt her magic rushing in her. She preferred spells of light and heat, but Hijiri had suggested she try everything for the time being, warning with a smile that one never knew what kind of skills they might need one day.
Awazuki doubted she would ever be required to do anything with plants, but still felt her chest grow warmer as the flower's stem perked up and its petals began to glow with a dim light. She shut her eyes, and when she next opened them, the plant was once again in the prime of health, its pink petals swaying gently between her hands.
She smiled and straightened her back, the terrible weight on her chest almost forgotten. How had she ever lived without magic? It had only been five months, but already she couldn't remember exactly how she had managed without spells to take her mind off the miseries of the world.
Hijiri would be pleased she had stepped out of her comfort zone. Now, it was time to work on a spell of her own.
She began to chant under her breath, holding her hands in front of her. Slowly, much more slowly than she would have liked, colourful lights manifested between her palms, dim in the sunlight, but undoubtedly real.
She knitted her brow in concentration, but no amount of effort made the lights brighter.
She dismissed the spell, frowning. Hijiri had said creating new spells was harder than learning old ones, but regardless she wished she could make progress faster. There had to be some trick to it, right?
"Lady Hijiri is waiting for you at the crossroads with the jizou statue."
Her heart skipped a beat.
She looked around and saw nothing. Only after she was sure she was alone did it register to her that the voice had been entirely unfamiliar to her. It had seemed to come from above, but the roof of the shrine was as abandoned as the courtyard.
She frowned. A spell, perhaps, or a youkai so small it was nearly invisible? Ultimately, she couldn't bring herself to care too much. What mattered was the message itself. Why did Hijiri want to meet her, and so close to the shrine of all places? Had she forgotten the risk of coming face to face with Meizuki and being exposed?
Even this thought, however, was soon swept aside by a longing to see Hijiri. Therefore, she quickly deposited the broom back against the wall and rushed to the gate.
She jumped across several puddles from that morning that were yet to dry as she rushed down the steps and then the path towards the village, her long sleeves flapping behind her.
Soon, more winded than she truly ought to have been, she arrived at the crossroads. The surrounding meadows were overgrown with hays and weeds, dotted with the last flowers of the year.
The stone slab with the jizou had been equally unkempt the last time she had passed by, but while she had waited, Hijiri had taken it to herself to tidy it up. She was still polishing the statue with the edge of her sleeve when Awazuki walked towards, with a look of calm concentration. Apparently oblivious to her approach, Hijiri retrieved a piece of red cloth from the folds of her robes and tied it around the statue's neck.
Awazuki looked on quietly, but just as she was about to say something, Hijiri straightened herself and looked directly at Awazuki with a smile that seemed to imply she had known Awazuki was there all along.
"For good luck," she said. She looked back down at the jizou. "Strange to see one here. They are rare enough in this region."
"It comes from all the way from the continent. My mother bought it from a group of itinerant monks."
"A Shinto priestess buying a Buddhist statue?"
"You'd have to ask the exact reason why from her." Awazuki grinned. "Maybe she did it to rid herself of the monks as quickly as possible. Although," she peered at the statue and its small, serene face, "she seemed rather taken by the story the monks told about it."
"The guardian of the people," Hijiri said quietly, and clasped her hands in prayer.
Awazuki shifted awkwardly, unsure if the nun expected her to join in.
Before she had much time to feel uncomfortable, Hijiri opened her eyes. She kept her hands together as she spoke. "My condolences for your loss."
"Oh." News travelled fast. "It was her time. It's fine."
"It is?"
She couldn't help but smile. She hadn't had the opportunity to check her reflection, but no doubt her face was still a weepy mess. "Okay, you caught me. It's not." She bent her head backwards to stare at the sky. "But there's not much I can do about it, is there?"
"No. There rarely is."
They were content to let the silence do the talking for the next several moments. Awazuki took the opportunity to breathe in and out, and marvelled how much easier it felt now than it had at the shrine.
After some time had passed and she felt she had fully mastered herself, she spoke again. "Is that why you wanted to see me? To offer your support?"
"No." Hijiri turned to look at the forest beginning where the meadow ended to their right. "It was to say goodbye. We will be leaving Reishoumiya for winter."
At first, Awazuki didn't even comprehend Hijiri's words. When they began to dawn on her, all she could say was: "When?"
"Tonight, if at all possible."
"But why?" Awazuki stammered. "I thought everything was going so well here."
"Exactly," Hijiri said, in a tone a mother might use to soothe a troubled child, and which, under any other circumstances, Awazuki would have considered insulting. "Better than I ever could have expected, thanks to your aid. But Reishoumiya is not the only place where the hearts of youkai and humans are tainted by discord. Even if one land is a paradise for both races, we cannot close our eyes to the plight of others. That is why we will travel south this winter, and hopefully establish another place of refuge for youkai."
Awazuki swallowed. "Looking for more humans to cooperate with you?"
"If possible, yes." Hijiri turned her head and noticed the look on Awazuki's face. "Does the thought bother you? I don't plan to take any other apprentices but you."
Some of the weight Awazuki hadn't even been fully aware was on her heart lifted. "But what about my studies? What about the youkai with wings? And the barrier?"
Hijiri knitted her brow. "I should have told you of our plans sooner, I know. As it is, I hope you are able to practice diligently while we are gone. You have mastered the basics very rapidly, and should be able to strive onwards on your own."
"And the youkai?"
"Ichirin has found someone you can contact for new information, as well as for assistance should trouble arise." The wrinkles in her brow deepened, as though she didn't quite believe her own words. "As for the youkai with wings...we have no new leads. Perhaps you will discover something new while we are gone. But if you do, please do not attempt to exterminate them by yourself. I would like to at least attempt to negotiate with them before doing anything rash, and if that proves to be impossible, well..." Hijiri lowered her head. "Do not take this as an insult, Miss Awazuki, but merely as a reasonable precaution. From everything I have heard, this youkai is akin to the strange youkai to the south, with such power that it is nigh impossible to surmount it by one person alone."
Awazuki tried to offer her a lopsided grin, but it came out as more of a grimace. "I wasn't planning on challenging it to a duel, you know."
"Can you make it a promise that you will not attempt to attack them by yourself?"
"I promise," Awazuki replied without hesitation, but with a twist to her gut. Hadn't she also promised she would avenge Meizuki as soon as possible? Then again, since Hijiri was no doubt right, charging in slinging spells would likely just get her killed. She could wait.
Assuming Hijiri actually came back...
Awazuki looked away. The fact Hijiri was leaving had finally sunken in, and she felt something hard lodged in her throat. It was as though the entire world was abandoning her all at once.
"Awazuki."
She turned to see Hijiri standing right before her. For a brief moment, she half expected her to take her hand.
She merely stared, however, with unwavering solemnity. "We will return. On the first day of spring. This is a promise."
Awazuki exhaled, then tried to smile. Perhaps it was just the sun, but she felt a bit warmer. "I must be mad, trusting the promise of a youkai."
Hijiri smiled back. "I must be mad, giving one to a human." Again, she moved her arm, and again Awazuki thought she might reach out to her. "Stay safe."
"Stay safe? You're the one's who's travelling off to who knows where."
"I will look after myself."
Awazuki made up her mind and leaned forward, grasping Hijiri's sleeve before finding her hand and clasping it to her own. "You'd better. I'll be expecting you on the very first day of spring."
Hijiri blinked at her several times, but she didn't withdraw her hand. After a moment, her shoulders relaxed. "I will keep that in mind."
"You still haven't taught me that Air Scroll spell, after all."
The smile turned wry. "I should have known that's all you're after."
"What else?" Awazuki's grin widened. It felt good to still be able to joke, even after the end of an era.
Slowly, Hijiri's amusement dissipated. She pulled her hand away. "Take care. And don't let anyone discover your abilities, either."
"Are you worried I'm going to climb onto the shrine roof and showcase all my best spells the moment you turn your back?"
"It's a possibility," Hijiri replied, but it was clear her heart was no longer in it. "In all seriousness, I'm more concerned about the possibility of your sister finding out. You said she has unusually sharp instincts."
"She does. But she also believes what I tell her. Besides, she has other things to think about right now." With that, some of the melancholic weight returned to her.
"Yes, I suppose so. Even so, please stay safe."
"You, too. And say hi to Ichirin for me."
"I shall."
Awazuki watched Hijiri depart back towards the village, all the while wondering if she'd ever really see her again. She had to take her by her word, didn't she?
Besides, she had called her Awazuki.
She was still trying to wrap her head around the full implications of the fact when she heard a tiny, unfamiliar voice speak up behind her.
"You shouldn't lie to your sister."
She spun around at once, only to be met with the exact same empty landscape as before. The same meadow, the same surrounding woods, the same footpaths, the same statue...
Wait.
The statue was no longer there. In its place stood a little girl, perhaps four or five years old, with neat, green hair, wearing long, blue robes and a red scarf around her neck. Her disapproving gaze was fixed on Awazuki.
She took a stumbling step towards the child, feeling utterly flummoxed. How long had the statue been a youkai? And why had it chosen to speak up now?
She stared down. The girl stared right back without the slightest hesitation.
"...Were you the one speaking earlier?" she asked, perhaps a tad foolishly, but she felt a need to be absolutely certain.
The girl nodded.
"And you're the jizou statue here?" She was certainly dressed for the part, though Awazuki was quite sure the statue had been male.
The girl nodded again. "My name is Eiki Shiki. I have been granted life due to the faith and good will of the people who pass through here."
Her formal way of speaking was quite comical coming from someone so small, but Awazuki didn't feel like laughing. "And you know my sister?"
"Not personally, but I have seen her before, and I can't help overhearing when people passing by speak of her."
"I suppose you can't, but..." Awazuki shook her head and tried to comprehend the situation. Inanimate objects gaining life was nothing new, but according to legends, it usually took at least a century. How much faith could a single statue next to a rarely traversed path gather in a mere decade?
She stilled her head and started over, focusing on only what mattered. "All right, you're the guardian spirit here. Good for you." She looked in the direction of the shrine. "As fun as it was to meet you, I should probably get going now. Meizuki's going to worry if she notices I'm gone."
"Wait! I really need to talk to you!"
Awazuki frowned, but waited all the same. Even if Eiki wasn't like a human child, ignoring her still felt the same as being mean to one. "Right. What is it?"
Eiki cleared her throat. "What I meant before is that you shouldn't lie to your sister about your association with youkai."
"And why is that?"
"Because lying is wrong."
Uttered with the absolute certainty of the very young and the very foolish. Awazuki almost began to smile. "And how do you know that?"
Eiki frowned. "Because it is."
Awazuki had just opened her mouth to point out just how flimsy this reasoning was when she continued: "I can see it. It's black."
Awazuki closed her mouth. By now, she was used to youkai having strange abilities, but seeing the colour of lies was a new one. More importantly, was she really going to throw herself into an argument with a child?
"Listen," she said as gently as she could, crouching down to Eiki's eye level. "Lying may be wrong, but this isn't a simple matter of black and white. If I tell her what's going on, something really bad might happen. People could end up dead. That's black too, right?"
Eiki nodded, crestfallen.
"So, in this case, a lie is better than the truth. Right?"
Eiki refused to nod, but she didn't raise a counter-argument, either, which Awazuki took to mean she couldn't think of one.
"Right. So, we can agree that it's much better that I keep on lying than risk—"
"She already doubts you."
Awazuki blinked. "What? How do you know that?"
"She comes here at times." As usual, Eiki's tone was comically serious for someone who appeared all of five years old, but Awazuki was done smiling. "She doesn't say much, but sometimes she stays for a while and stares at the path like you did just now, and sometimes when she does so she speaks out loud."
She had had no idea. "What does she say?"
Eiki bit her lip. "I shouldn't say. It's not right to share the secrets of others." Her brow furrowed. "But... she wonders about your ear."
Her hand automatically rose to her right ear, then let it drop when she realised the gesture revealed she knew what Eiki was talking about. Over the past few weeks, the top of her ear had felt... odd in a way she couldn't explain.
"It doesn't show," she said, more defensively than was likely necessarily.
"But she wonders, all the same." Eiki's frown deepened. "Perhaps she can sense the magic from it?"
It was more likely she had touched it while combing Awazuki's hair and noticed the same tingly sensation she had, but that was neither here nor there. All the same, she sought out the nearest puddle and peered into it, trying to discern if her reflection had changed.
"What are you doing?" Eiki asked, frowning.
She kept squinting at the puddle. "Checking my reflection, of course." Her ear didn't look any different from what it had before, assuming the wavering surface didn't lie to her.
"What's a reflection?"
Awazuki straightened her back and stared at Eiki. Then, in a moment of madness, she walked right over to her and picked her up.
Eiki squealed in surprise, but she paid that little attention: she was too busy trying to keep her balance, the child having proven much heavier than anyone so small should have been.
Gritting her teeth, she managed to hobble back over to the puddle and dropped Eiki on the ground there with a thud. "There."
Eiki peered downwards, then froze in shock. She stared at her mirror image like she was seeing sorcery for the first time.
"That's..." Her voice quivered.
"You. Well, your reflection. Don't tell me you've never seen yourself before."
Eiki shook her head, then continued to stare at the puddle with wide eyes. Awazuki was left to wonder exactly what youkai were like when they were born. This one spoke almost like an adult and knew more than anyone who looked her age should have, but was baffled by something as simple as a reflective surface? Maybe spirits were born with some parts of their being already fully formed, and then had to learn the rest by experience?
Whatever the case, seeing Eiki so awed made her want to smile and ruffle her hair.
Instead, she tugged at her strange earlobe. "As long as it doesn't actually show, it should be fine."
Eiki tore her eyes from her reflection to give her yet another intense stare. "But what if it begins to show?"
"Then I'll change my hairstyle." She grinned. "Hijiri says wearing it down is fashionable in the big cities, anyway."
"Even so..." Eiki was morose again. "You should tell her the truth before she finds out for herself."
"Sure, sure." She had already turned to leave when an errant thought crossed her mind. "What about my association with Hijiri? Is that black or white?"
Eiki straightened her back and smiled. "Friendship is always white."
It was good to hear this weird little bastion of morality didn't disapprove of that, at least. "Great. I'll see you later, I suppose."
"Before you go, can you do me a favour, please?" The smile gave way to sheepishness. "I don't know how to move my legs."
It took two attempts and several barely suppressed curse words, but eventually she managed to move Eiki back to her rightful spot.
"There," she said, wiping sweat off her brow. "Is that fine?"
Eiki nodded, then hesitated. "There is another thing."
She had suspected as much. "Go on."
"Can you promise me you will tell your sister the truth?"
Awazuki tried not to sigh. Dealing with this child was like trying to punch her hand through the stone she was made of. "I can't. I'm sorry."
Eiki's face fell. "Why not?"
"I never make promises I can't keep."
"But..." Eiki pressed her palms together and appeared to think fervently.
Awazuki crouched down and ruffled her hair, ignoring the ensuing high-pitched protests. "It's not something you have to worry about," she said as she let go, and smiled as Eiki immediately tried to desperately straighten herself up. "How about I promise I try to do the right thing, instead?"
Eiki paused with her stubby finger buried in her hair and looked up. "Telling the truth is the right thing to do."
Awazuki straightened herself and stepped past her onto the path leading to the shrine. "I'm glad at least one of us thinks it can be done."
She turned back once to wave goodbye to the child, immediately regretting it. Eiki was still staring after her, her large eyes filled with equal parts concern and reproach, so much so the sight made Awazuki's stomach knot with guilt.
She hastened away, the stare crawling up her back till she reached the steps.
Why, exactly, did the jizou's eyes have to be the exact same shade of blue as Meizuki's?