The Eye of the Kami

Yukiana and Kondo left Hajime-jinja and started north along the road the following morning. The rain had brought a refreshing coolness to the sweltering summer days, but with it came higher humidity, so they were forced to break more frequently for water and rest. On the second day, the land began to change from the vast rice paddies of the Zōji plain to a rockier, coastal terrain. The breeze picked up considerably, and though it was still hot out under the sun, there was some relief from the inland heat.

Eventually, they saw in the distance a distinct split in the road, as they had finally reached the northern shores of Minami-shima. Yuki had anticipated this and wondered what their next move would be, west or east. She was getting increasingly worried about her father. She knew that time was running short and wondered if something had happened to him.

“He will come for me,” she repeated to herself, but each day she had grown more and more doubtful.

Her captor was a vigilant and disciplined man, leaving her little chance to even consider escape. He gave her just enough freedom to keep her mind from breaking into despair, but he would never truly let her out of his sight. He always rose before her, and though he usually fell asleep first, she knew first-hand that his senses were heightened from years in the wild and any unusual movement would wake him. He ate just enough to keep strong, and his eyes were always roving back and forth, studying their surroundings. Each time a passerby approached them his hand would fall and remain by his sword’s hilt, ready to attack at any moment.

Despite all this, since that night at the shrine, he had become a bit more talkative. He asked her many questions concerning the history that she knew. Apparently, he had not studied such things in his childhood or early manhood, and showed an interest in lore, especially when it came to politics and the great battles.

She was reluctant to oblige, considering the immense hatred that she harbored for him, but she thought it might be useful if it could slow their march and give her father an opportunity to catch up. Perhaps dulling her captor’s heightened sensitivity with a tale or two would give her father the extra time that he needed. Thus, she spoke to him about many things, especially concerning the line of the Emperors, who at first were strong and mighty but then grew weak as the years passed. Eventually, they succumbed to political infighting and were in the end, utterly destroyed.

Two rival houses were at the center of the collapse, the pitiable Miyamoto, and the ruthless Kirin. The Kirin eventually seized control of the Islands but could not make a strong enough claim to the throne, so they took the nominal title of Shōgun, or High Commander of the Emperor’s Armies and Defender of the Eastern Islands. They were the first Shōguns, and they ruled for hundreds of years.

Of course, the Kirin were eventually supplanted by the Yoshimitsu who became the second Shōguns, and they were just recently overcome by the Mashige who was the third. Mashige Hideyo was the current Shōgun and he, only just ten years before, claimed the title after a long and terrible war in which the Islands were consumed in chaos, and where each clan fought each other for supremacy. Mashige had managed to scrape out a win from the ashes, and now he was the most powerful man on the Islands. Of these more recent matters, Kondo knew quite a bit as he had personal experience.

“Did you fight in the War of Ashes?” Yuki asked as they neared the diverging road.

“I did,” answered Kondo. “Only towards the end of it though.”

“Very few could say they fought through the whole thing. It lasted almost a hundred years, and there were terrible casualties. A monk who I once lived with at the monastery told me that he estimated that the population of the Islands was reduced to a third of what it was before the war.”

“It was a brutal war,” Kondo agreed. “But it cleansed the land of much of the filth. The people had gone soft and become stagnant under the Yoshimitsu. If the barbarians ever attacked before the war, we’d be speaking their language now, not ours.”

Yuki did not respond at first. His comments were crass but not entirely untrue, at least from what she had read. There had been a bloating of bureaucracy in the Old Capital that weighed the Yoshimitsu Shōgunate down and rendered them powerless in the end. Excessive taxation to compensate for lavish expenses caused rampant discontent among the farming class. Sensing opportunity, the local rulers, or daimyō, did what they could to accrue as much land as possible with no punishment coming down from the Shōgun. This was the first half of the War of Ashes. But then some began to realize that the weakened Shōgunate was ripe for the taking, and those who had done well in the first half positioned their clans to claim the great title.

She shook her head. “But the last Yoshimitsu Shōgun, young Akira, I never heard anything bad said about him.”

“He was a brave man,” Kondo assented. “I fought for him during my time in the war. The smiling fool could lead an army of ants and take a castle. Everyone who fought for him loved him like he was both their god and older brother in one. But that goes to show you, respect isn’t always more important than fear.”

“Mashige led by fear?”

“Fear and cunning,” Kondo replied with a solemn nod. “And great sacrifice.”

Yuki thought for a moment. Because these events were so recent, there were no books about them she could get her hands on in Kokoro. All she knew about the ending of the war were the bits of pieces she had gathered from her time at the monastery. She had tried to ask her father on numerous occasions, but he would not speak of it. It seemed to hurt him when she asked, she could see the reflection of uncried tears in his eyes, so she gradually stopped probing. She thought it strange that she was now having such an open conversation about the war with this man whom she did not know and whom she hated. It made her feel sad. There was so much to her father that she had never understood.

“It’s my fault,” she lamented internally. “I never really forgave him for abandoning us, and I often shut him out.”

When the two had finally reached the split in the road, her captor paused.

“Which way do you think we will go?” he asked, staring out onto the rolling hills that led down to the sea.

Yuki considered for a moment. “Kagiminato is nearer,” she said, thinking out loud. “If we were going to depart as fast as possible, that would be the best choice. But if we went west, we could reach Zōji-shi within a week or so. It would be much harder to track us, as the lands become more mountainous and craggier, and it would be a surprise.”

“So?” he asked, a grin streaking his face.

“East,” she said at last. It was a wishful choice, as she knew that this was the closest to Kokoro and thus carried a better chance of her father intercepting them there.

“Wrong,” the man said almost musically, as his grin widened.

“So, it’s west then...” she said, trying to conceal the disappointment in her voice.

“Wrong again.”

Yuki then turned to face him. “What do you mean?”

He turned and smiled at her; a wicked gleam was in his eyes.

“Will he kill me here?” she wondered, taking an instinctive step back. “Will he do this now?”

But he did not move to harm her. “Follow me,” he said casually and then continued north, off and away from the high road. She paused a moment, her mind whirring with confusion before following him, but at a distance. They continued on for a full hour with each minute seeming longer than the one that preceded it.

“North?” she kept thinking. “But what could be north? Surely there is nothing that way but the ocean and maybe a few fishermen. Is he going to sail us across the sea in a fishing boat?” She knew it was possible to take a ferry across the strait that passed between Minami-shima and Nakashima, but that was a few days east, and this was the rough northern sea. It was extremely dangerous to attempt such a voyage on such a tiny vessel.

“Perhaps he is going to stash me away for safekeeping,” she wondered, her heart racing faster and faster as they continued north. The land had become arid, a noticeable difference from the fertile lands they had passed through just a few days ago. “He could keep me hidden until they have my father. Put me in some cave or cell.” The possibilities were devastating. She thought through the options one by one, with each one more terrible than the last.

“This could be my last chance,” she thought. Her eyes darted around the rocky plain. She could see the ocean on the horizon, but she could not see the shore, so they must be atop an elevated cliff. They were growing nearer, as an intense saline scent filled her nostrils. There were no other trees or cover for her to hide in. All her instincts were screaming at her to run, but she knew she would not make it far. He was always so close, always ready, and much more agile than she.

At last, they finally approached the cliff’s edge. She walked towards the gulf and peered down. It was a high and steep precipice, but she could see that there was a way down via a meandering footpath. Below was a cove where the waves enclosed a slender, crescent patch of sand. She could hear the roar of the waves lift from the cove and echo off the sheer walls of the cliffs. The sound was like a dirge. Her eyes were finally drawn to a boat nestled in the cove. It was a large, three-mast corsair, a fast vessel that could safely cross the northern sea.

“He has chartered a private ship,” she realized, the plan to head north suddenly making sense. “But how?” Hiring a private ship these days would cost a fortune, for there were few reliable ones left after the War of Ashes. “How much money did his people have?” she wondered. Whoever Kondo worked for was sparing no expense. Her heart dropped in her chest.

“This is it,” she thought. “Would it be better to jump, to end it all now?” She moved her feet closer to the very edge of the cliff. Small pebbles fell as she displaced them, and she could not see where they landed. It was high enough that she would die instantly once she hit the bottom. She would feel pain for only a moment. Kondo would likely be punished for failing his precious mission. The thought of him seeing her fall, the hopelessness he would feel gave her a rush of elation. For failing a mission like this, he might even be killed for it.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Kondo said, slowly approaching her from behind. “You have realized that there is no longer any hope of returning to your home.” He continued to look out at the sea, shimmering blue and speckled with gold. “Not that there ever was before, but now, here at the brink, you see the truth. Now you might be thinking that death is surely better than what is coming, and you may be right.”

She froze. “How did he know? How could he know?”

“You may blame me. You may want to try and punish me by throwing your life away. But I am simply doing my job. I can understand your despair; indeed, I even pity you. I did not choose this mission, but I must complete it. Do you understand?”

She did not understand why he was saying this. Tears began to gather in her eyes, but she forced the muscles of her face to harden. Of all the injuries he had caused her, this one was the most crippling. It was something that sounded like an apology but felt like a knife in the stomach.

“I don’t want your pity,” she whispered. She would not let him see her break. She had cried and wailed enough while she was drugged, but she would not allow him to see her cry now, while her mind was free. “I could do it,” she thought, looking back down to the bottom of the cliff. “He’s clearly worried. He’s fast, but I don’t think he could stop me now.”

“Your death would indeed cause me some trouble,” he continued. “But in the vast scheme of things, it would matter little. Your father is already searching for you, and we could come up with enough to sell the lie that we still have you.”

She exhaled slowly and peered down once again.

“Let me give you some personal advice,” Kondo offered, turning towards her. There was a rare hint of sincerity in his words as if he genuinely believed them. “In this world, people die every day. Most of them will not be remembered for long after they die, if at all. I was once weak and helpless just like you. The only thing you can do is live and grow stronger. Then with that life and strength, make yourself worthy of remembrance.”

“And who will remember you?” she asked, her voice quivering.

“Few,” he said quickly, turning away. “But I’m not yet done living.”

Yuki stared at him and thought, “What a strange man. He only thinks of me as a pathetic little girl, but at the same time, it’s as if he wants to see what I will do. It’s as if he is testing me.”

“Now, shall we go?” he asked with a pointed stare, motioning to the trail leading them down the cliff and to the cove below. Slowly, Yuki backed away from the cliff’s edge. She then strode past him, realizing that with every step she was drawing closer to her doom. As she stood at the start of the path, she took one last look back at the land behind her. She was searching for him, hoping to see his figure on the horizon.

“He is not coming,” Kondo said grimly.

No, he was not. At least not yet. “He will find me,” Yuki forced herself to think. “Whether it be on Minami-shima or across the world. I know my father. He will find me. I have to live for him.”

She slowly turned back and abandoned all but the little hope she had left. Soon she would reach the bottom of the cove, feel the hot sand in-between her toes, and be brought aboard the corsair by many ugly, caustic men. She would be handled roughly, groped, insulted, and then finally thrown into Kondo’s chambers above deck, where there was nothing but darkness and the faint sound of scurrying mice. When she was finally alone, she let herself break down, tears spilling down her face tasting as salty as the waves that bore them off to some unknown place, with some unknown villain waiting to collect her.

The full brunt of it all had finally sunk in. She had been taken, and now she was lost.

“Papa!” she whispered as a last effort. “Papa...” Yet she could no longer hear his voice in her mind. All was silent.