On the Hills of Eden

Pallas squinted her eyes, raising them defiantly to the radiant sky above head, refusing to so much as lift a hand in cover as she closed the door to the inn behind her.

She didn’t have anything on her mind but the dull droning of a lingering pain that bothered her to no end. It was a throb that came and went in weak, shore-lapping waves, a speck of an insect that flew incessantly into her face again and again despite her attempts to swat it away. It took her mind off of the sights and sounds of the streets as she walked, constantly dragging her back into thought as she fumbled her way through a fog of confusion.

She was just missing something.

She felt her nose thoughtlessly, the sensation of Isami’s elbow ramming into it returning to her mind.

She stopped herself, waiting by the corner of a street as a horse-drawn wagon stocked with wooden planks, joints and intricately carved locks trundled its way across.

She followed suit, feeling the fresh air in her lungs and the crisp breeze on her skin as she walked after it. The thing slowly pulled away, of course, eventually disappearing behind another corner, but she continued walking anyway.

Her eyes meandered slightly as she made her way down the street, her legs careful to avoid accidentally walking into the stone gutters that gurgled with the flow of clear water. The sky had seemed to darken gently, its dimmer tone better matching the beige and cotton whites of banners and letters that hung from the verandas of shops and houses alike.

The light tapping of her wooden sandals against the stone floor disappeared, replaced by the knocking of their bases against wood as she crested a small arcing bridge. Hearing the soft bubbling of the gentle rush of water beneath her, Pallas stopped at the very top of the bridge, resting her elbows against its railing as she looked out over the river.

She saw little waterfalls that spewed forth from holes in the stone embankment, drawn from the gutters and drains that ran throughout the entire Shrine. Leaning over the bridge’s railing, she peered into the rippling waters beneath, seeing herself peer back at her from the ever-changing surface.

The sound of her sandals tapping on stone returned, and she continued on her way.

As she walked, the buildings around her grew increasingly disperse. They grew larger and moved away from the compact structuring of the inner Shrine, but most of that extra land went into luxuriant back gardens or beautifully adorned approaches.

Soon enough, the houses grew so disparate that she came across an entire block that had been left undeveloped, a flat green field taking the place of buildings placed within it.

This was probably as far as she should go. She decided to walk along the verdant field, watching as its blades rippled with the breeze while a group of kids kicked a ball about.

She planned on walking the entire length of the field, some hundred metres or so in length, before turning back towards the inn. That way, she’d have the chance to see some new sights on her way back.

“You can’t use a stick in football!” She could hear a girl yell from the field.

What were they having for lunch again?

“Sure I can!” She heard a boy counter. “The only rule is that you can’t use your hands!”

Ah, right. Insalata Caprese with Hyakugyuuraku Cheese, followed by Kitsunite Naporitan paired with Oldenburger Bratwurst.

“Ngh!”

An interesting combination, for sure, but given that they were in Houzen and not too displaced from Rosenlund, she found it fitting.

In the corner of her eye, something surged towards her.

She lifted her left palm up and bounced the ball off of her mittened hand, killing all of its momentum as she caught it with her other.

“Sorry!”

She lifted her eyes from the muddy leather ball, catching sight of the only girl in the four man troupe hurriedly running her way towards her; her little form still a good seventy or so metres away.

Pallas raised her hand at the girl, signalling her to stop.

She didn’t really have much practice with football, but she figured she’d be fine if she just put in the correct amount of power.

She bounced the ball off of her palm twice, hitting it up into the air with a good bit of strength as she prepared herself. She drove the toe box of her tabi into the soft thing, sending it soaring through the air, well over the girl’s head as she turned to watch it before it came to a rolling stop by the three boys.

“Thank you!” The girl yelled, Pallas waving her arms and smiling as broadly as she could in response.

Pallas turned away, dusting the palms of Qingxi’s mittens against her samue as she continued on her way.

She still had it.

Maybe she just needed to watch her sleeping habits better and keep to a strict schedule– at least until she managed to shake off her homesickness and overcome her narcolepsy. Maybe then her mind wouldn’t wild out on her so often, maybe then her muscles wouldn’t get sore and stiffen up so easily.

Perhaps she could take up some yoga. She knew Qingxi liked to do some form of stretching every morning.

“Miss!”

Pallas turned around.

She caught sight of the little girl running full tilt towards her, the ball held firmly in her grasp as the three boys floundered after her.

“Miss!” she repeated, stopping at the very edge of the field, just before the land dipped into a slope, and then a drain. “Can you come play with us?”

“Oi, Hotaru!” one of the boys yelled. “We already have four players!”

The girl turned around, holding the ball out to her side as he tried to snatch it from her grasp.

“But it’s not fair!” she replied, stumbling back slightly. “No one ever wants to play with me because we keep losing!”

“Sure!” Pallas replied.

“Yay!”

“Hotaru-”

The girl slid herself down the slope, jumping the drain as she hurried over to grab Pallas’ hand.

“I’m Hotaru!” she excitedly told Pallas, leading her up the slope. “This is my brother Taiyō,” she said, gesturing to the slightly older boy who had tried to take the ball from her. “And these are his friends, Kaito and Tōji.”

The two boys bowed awkwardly, shying away slightly when Pallas smiled at them.

“How are we going to play with five players?” Taiyō asked, raising his hands as he stepped aside to let Hotaru return to the field with Pallas in tow.

“Two against three!” she replied excitedly. “Me and…”

“Pallas.”

“Miss Pallas against you guys!”

The boys paused for a moment, exchanging brief glances while they stewed in silence.

Kaito nodded, then Tōji. Then finally, Taiyō sighed, relenting to his little sister.

“Yay!”

She’d be fine. It’s not like a game would take too long to finish anyway.

“Miss!”

Pallas lunged forward, stopping the ball dead in its tracks with a tap of her foot. She then punted the thing, sending it soaring through the air as it curved above the boys’ heads.

“Kaito!” Taiyō yelled.

The ball thumped against his chest, Pallas raising her eyebrows in mild surprise as he kicked it fresh off the volley back down the field.

“I’ll get it, Miss!”

Pallas hung back, watching as the girl sprang back into the midfield once again. Her eyes flopping in the wind and her tail drifting behind her, she stood in awe at the kids’ endurance.

They played on, sending the ball bouncing back and forth, with the occasional dribbling break where either Pallas or Taiyō would make a beeline down the field with the ball in their possession. Not a single attempt ever made it through, though, with Pallas’ lack of skill in handling the ball preventing her from outmanoeuvring the numerically superior opposition while Taiyō’s physical inferiority to the combined defences of the girls preventing him from scoring a goal– even with the assistance of his mates.

The game dragged on, Pallas’ tabis growing increasingly wet with the dew of the grass as the light of the sky darkened yet further. The boys seemed to grow evermore frustrated, Taiyō’s instructions more vague and aggressive and their general demeanour when it came to playing a lot more competitive. Hotaru, on the other hand, seemed to be having the time of her life.

If it really was true that her team always lost, Pallas thought, then it must’ve been one hell of an exhilarating experience to finally have an even playing field to fight upon.

She even taught Pallas a few things, too. She warned her against using the tips of her toes to kick the ball, instead teaching her to use other parts of her foot– like the top, the knuckle of her big toe, or the instep– to achieve varying shots. Something that seemed to fill the little girl with ecstasy, seeing Pallas lob the ball almost the entire way down the field, much to the chagrin of the boys who were halfway in the process of running towards their goal.

Eventually, though, the kids began to tire out.

“Stop, stop!”

Everyone froze in place, the ball thudding against the grass in the distance as Taiyō waved his arms about angrily.

“Okay, okay,” he said, gasping for air in between words. “Let’s stop there. Tie game.”

“Okay,” Hotaru replied, a smile still etched onto her face.

“I should get going now,” Pallas said.

The three boys looked at her, each one too busy heaving for air to respond. Hotaru, though, leapt onto her, rubbing her face into the fabrics of her samue.

“Thank you Miss Pallas!” Pallas could feel being murmured into her tummy. “It was very fun playing with you!”

Pallas giggled slightly, covering her mouth as she rubbed Hotaru’s head.

“Thank you, Hotaru,” she said. “It was fun playing with you guys,” she added, eyes glancing at the boys as well. “Take care, okay?”

“Mm!”

And so, that was that. Which was a good thing, given that she’d lost track of time and had a slight hint of a feeling that she may be a tad little bit late for lunch with the others. She decidedly picked up the pace, speeding up to a brisk walk-

“Wait, Miss!”

She turned around, seeing Taiyō hurried after her, Hotaru and the other two following a good few metres behind.

“Taiyō?”

“Could…” he struggled, stopping before her and resting his hands on his knees as he fought to breathe.

“It’s okay, take your time,” she said, hoping the alarm she felt didn’t reflect too obviously in her raised eyebrows.

He huffed for a few moments more, his sister having to come up and pat him lightly on his back before he could stand up straight again.

“Could you help us, please?”

“With what, exactly?”

“There’s… there’s a house on the other side of this field,” he began, locking his fingers together as he nervously shot glances to where Pallas assumed the ‘house’ was. “We went in there a few days ago to try and practise playing our instruments but…”

He trailed off.

“But the house was haunted!” Kaito cut in. “There were ghost noises and everything and- and we were pretty sure there was something in there with us!”

A haunted house?

“Yeah!” Tōji added. “So… so we ran out in a panic and left our instruments inside…”

“I see,” Pallas said, pausing on each word as she processed the information. “And you haven’t asked anyone else to help you with this? Not even your parents?”

“Well, it’s because we’re keeping a secret,” Taiyō said. “Me, Kaito and Tōji bought ourselves instruments with our own savings so we could practise in secret and surprise our parents in the Winter Solstice festival.”

“Which is also Tōji’s birthday!” Hotaru beamed, Tōji nodding along excitedly.

“Mm,” Taiyō hummed. “So we couldn’t ask anyone in case they’d tell them and ruin the whole thing.”

“Okay,” Pallas said. “Sure I’ll help out. Where’s it at?”

“Really?” The two siblings asked simultaneously.

Pallas smiled involuntarily, a sudden warmth billowing in her heart. Was this what her mother had to deal with everyday?

“Of course,” she said. “We have to make it fast, though, I need to get back home in time for lunch.”

“Okay, okay,” Taiyō said. “Let’s go!”

“So,” Pallas said, keeping pace with the children as they jogged their way across the field. “What exactly did you hear?”

“Footsteps!” Hotaru said. “We heard footsteps, like creaking in the floorboards. We could hear things moving too, like chairs and tables and doors.”

“And the voice?” Taiyō prompted.

“Ah, yes, the voice!” she exclaimed. “There was a voice too!”

“What did it say?” Pallas asked, her eyebrows slowly contorting with concern.

If the signs had been limited to just simple movements, then there was at least a good chance it was nothing serious, or at the very worst an animal of some sort. But a voice?

“We’re not sure,” she replied. “But Kaito says he thinks he knows. He can speak Saracenic!”

“Kaito?” Pallas asked.

“I couldn’t hear it very well,” he said. “But I think I could hear it saying, ‘give me’ in Saracenic. But I’m not sure! I can only understand it well if it's written…”

“I see,” Pallas mused. “That’s still quite good, though. Be proud of yourself.”

Kaito smiled shyly.

“Anything else?” Pallas asked.

“Well, one time, when me and Hotaru were walking past it at night,” Taiyō said. “We heard it playing our instruments!”

“What?”

“Yeah!” Hotaru added. “We heard it playing brother’s shamisen first, then Kaito’s ryūteki and even Tōji’s koto!”

A lute, a flute and a harp. What business did… whatever was haunting the house have with children’s instruments of all things?

“What about yours, Hotaru?” she asked.

“I don’t have one,” she replied. “I just sing!”

“She’s a very good singer,” Taiyō assured Pallas, Kaito and Tōji nodding along in agreement in the background.

“I see,” Pallas said, nodding along as Hotaru covered her blushing cheeks. “Is that all you heard?”

“Yeah,” Taiyō replied. “That’s all.”

“Okay, Miss,” Taiyō said. “Here it is.”

Pallas stared down the house before her, her eyes slipping past the rotting stone of its outer fence and into the shadowed, decrepit mess of sick wood, slick paper and brick tiles cracked by years of neglect. She turned her head, eyes heading back up the street to the houses stationed not too far away.

“How did it get so… bad?” she asked.

“The owners passed away a few years ago,” Kaito said, “Their son inherited it, but he doesn’t live in this Shrine. He doesn’t want to sell the title to it, but he also doesn’t want to live in it. So until he can decide on something to do– or until the Shrine manages to take it off of him– it’s just going to keep getting worse.”

“Mm,” Pallas hummed. “Just three instruments, right?”

“Right.”

Pallas breathed out.

“Okay then,” she said. “Stay put.”

She crossed the threshold of the outer fence, slipping her way through its thin, ungated entrance. She made her way atop its winding stone path, struggling in some places to see where the stone was amidst the intense overgrowth of the several year-old grass. She stopped just short of its veranda, instead slipping to the side to try and get a glimpse of the inside from a window.

She fought against the stiff thing for a moment, eventually forcing it all the way open as it came free from the thin film of algae that clung to its sliders.

She rose to her tip-toes, peeking her eyes into the dimly-lit interior.

Upon the tatami mat floor sat a table. And a chair. And an overturned rack with a singular splintered shelf, its contents spilled in a great mess upon the stained and sullied floor. There were shattered pieces of china, little wooden fixtures, and cutlery in some places too. There were remnants of rotting food, foetid matter that rank with a foul odour even from where Pallas stood, and stains of dark fluid from which little white mushrooms sprung out of.

Well then. This wasn’t going to be pleasant. How the kids even thought of entering a place like this in the first place eluded her.

She made her way to the veranda, its forgotten woods creaking out in surprise as she stepped her way towards the entrance. There, she slid the door open, the light of the outside flooding into the darkness within.

Before her was a corridor with six doors. Two on the left, the first leading to a small kitchen space and the second leading to the room where the kids had said they went to to practise. On the right, the first led into the room she had snuck a peek into, the second to a set of steep stairs that led to the second story and the third led into what was supposed to be the bathroom. The final door, directly opposite her, led into the back garden.

The kids never checked, though, and the same went for the second floor– which was supposedly where most of the noise came from.

She headed into the corridor, her blood pulsing in surges underneath her skin. Whatever it was that hid within these walls, she knew she could kill in combat.

She made her way along the corridor, peering first into the kitchen.

Everything seemed to be in place. The cupboards and the drawers had been closed and neatly kept shut, with the only exception being the lid that allowed air into the fireplace just beneath the stove. There was nothing strewn about on the floor, nor were there any real stains of spilt food or oil. The entire place had been kept spick and span, save for a singular pot still left atop the stove.

Stepping inside, Pallas peered into it.

And nothing but a pile of dust-covered mould peered back.

Returning now to the corridor, she decided to take a closer look at the room she’d initially peered into. Not too close a look, mind you, but a look nevertheless.

Stopping promptly as she felt the tatami squelch beneath her sandals.

It was wet.

Strange, given that the wood of the corridor seemed almost entirely dry.

Nevermind then.

She made her way past the stairs, her eyes giving only a brief look to the darkness that stewed overhead.

She turned the corner into the room the four of them had said they’d practised in.

And there the instruments were, laying on the ground.

The shamisen and the ryūteki, both stacked up neatly against the wall. By the rooms walls were alcoves, little recesses upon which were stored little cushions, candles and lanterns– all very neatly piled up on each other and arranged into neat rows.

In the corner was a small circular table, legless chairs stacked atop one another placed atop of it.

But there was no sign of the koto.

Pallas picked up both instruments, heading back down the corridor to place the two of them on the veranda.

“You guys still there?” she called out.

“Yes Miss Pallas!” Hotaru yelled back.

“Okay!” she replied. “Don’t come in, I’m almost done, alright?”

“Alright!”

Pallas disappeared back into the corridor.

Before heading upstairs, she snuck a look into the bathroom, her finger already pressed up against her nose in anticipation of any malodours.

Surprisingly though, the room was rather well kept. The floor was entirely free of any puddles or stains or even any algae, and the well-sealed steel buckets she assumed were filled with human waste had been neatly stacked atop each other in a corner of the room where the wall jutted out slightly to make space for the nearby stairs. Even the hanging toilet seat seemed more or less spotless.

But there was no koto. She would have to head upstairs to find it.

And so she climbed the stairs, each step beckoning an agonisingly loud creak from the wood beneath. She stopped midway, pausing to let her ears pick up the sound of silence.

Nothing.

She continued on, almost tripping once in the sheer darkness, before finally cresting the stairway and arriving at the second floor.

Again, there was a corridor, this time with a singular door on the same side as the stairway and two on the opposing side.

Carefully, she slid open the first door immediately to her right, peering into the darkness as her eyes slowly adjusted to the lowlight.

It was a study.

A large desk lined the walls opposite the main door, and a second door connected it to the adjacent room. She approached the desk, a thin film of dust present only on one of its two halves. The cleaner side still had dust, of course, but only in disparate patches with clean, sweeping edges.

Above the desk was a little bookshelf, stacks of books covered in fragments of a large torn cobweb stored atop it. Looking more closely, they’d been arranged alphabetically– with the exception of a singular book that should’ve been closer to the boom placed at the very top, the most colourful of the bunch.

Continuing on, Pallas slid open the door to the adjacent room.

There was a little alcove on one side of the room, upon which sat a tissue box and an unlit candle, its wick burnt all the way to the base. Just above it hung a scroll, the intricate calligraphy of the words proving too difficult for her to parse.

Directly opposite her was a window, the thin light of the outdoors filtering in through it, falling upon a blanketed futon that lay on the floor, something hidden within its embrace.

Cautiously, Pallas slid her way around it, her fingers clenching and unclenching as her blood prepared to surge into action within her.

She made her way to the head of the bed, the mass that hid under the cloth blanket still not having moved an inch.

And she kicked the cover off.

A bolster lay in the middle of the bed, wrinkled and bent. A small one at that, not possibly any longer than a metre.

That left one last room for the koto to be in.

For the thing to be in.

She stepped back out into the corridor, and wasted not a moment sliding open the final door.

The final room was empty, barring a singular cushion that sat it in the middle, a harp with torn strings sat upon it.

Pallas felt her heart thrum in her chest in the deafening silence.

She stepped forward, reaching to grab the koto-

Something black shifted above her.

She leapt backwards, squatting down as she craned her neck upwards.

It was a spider.

“Goodness,” she sighed.

“Alright, you guys!”

“Miss Pallas!”

Pallas stepped through the threshold of the outer fence, the three instruments in tow.

“I found all of them,” she said. “But the koto was broken when I got to it.”

She heard Tōji deflate slightly.

“Yeah, sorry…”

He shook his head.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah,” Hotaru added. “It was whatever was haunting the building!”

“Right,” Pallas said. “About that.”

“...Did you find it?” Taiyō asked.

“...No,” she said. “There was nothing in there, aside from a big spider. Just stay clear, okay? And tell your parents that something weird’s been going on here.”

“Could you tell the shrine maidens and monks for us, please?” Hotaru asked.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said. “But no promises, since I won’t be here for much longer.”

“Where are you going?” Kaito asked.

“North,” Pallas replied, her gaze drifting off into the wilderness beyond the Shrine’s reach. “To try and fix things.”

“Wow,” Hotaru mouthed. “Oh! Actually, can we play you a song?”

“Right now? What about Tōji?”

“He can sing too!” she replied excitedly, grabbing the older boy by his arm.

“Hm,” Pallas hummed. “I’d love to, but I really should get going now. My friends are going to be really upset at me for being late.”

“Aww.”

The kids’ gazes all dropped to the floor, as if weighed down by an invisible disappointment. Heck, even Pallas began to feel it too.

“Unless…” Pallas started, not wanting to bring them down. “You wouldn’t mind playing for them too?”

“Not at all!” Hotaru replied, bouncing back into an enthusiastic beam as the boys hurriedly nodded in agreement.

“It’s the least we can do for you,” Taiyō said.

Pallas huffed, smiling.

“Alright then,” she said. “Let’s go!”