The Eye of the Kami

Gin and Saru came at last to the small fishing vessel docked at the end of the pier. There appeared to be a small gathering at this location, and there was a great commotion coming from them. As the two drew nearer, the scene became ever stranger. Besides Kaya, there was a group of seven young women, finely arrayed in full, elegant kimono as if they were going to a formal party. In contrast, there was one foul-looking man, who was smeared in fish blood, and dried scales, and smelled as if he had not bathed in weeks. Gintaro could hear the two loudest voices among the din, and it sounded as if they were in the midst of an argument. He recognized one of the voices as Kaya’s. The other had to be the old fisherman.

As they approached and were noticed by the group, the noise quieted down, and the Crane shrank back behind the other young women.

Gin shot her a fierce look and spoke out. “When you said that you would do anything for me, I did not think that would include betrayal.”

She could not meet his gaze and looked down in shame.

“Kaya-san has offered to help us get off the island, to make amends for her poor decision,” Saru placated, stepping in between them. “These are the girls who would have been put in harm’s way if she didn’t hand you over. They waited for us when they could have easily left.”

“We should have left an hour ago!” the old fisherman barked. “But they insisted on bringing two others along. I told you I only have room for eight and that’s including myself! This is a fishing ship, not a ferry!” He was an ugly man, squat, with spindly sinews and a few, yellow, gnarled teeth.

Gin did a quick headcount, there were eleven of them altogether.

“We have the coin, as I said,” Kaya said, speaking up. “You can take us all or leave with none.”

“I don’t care if you have the coin!” the man shot back. “I don’t have the room, and what good is paying for a one-way trip to the bottom of the ocean? I know this boat, and it won’t hold the whole lot of you.”

Saru was becoming anxious. “What if we split it up? Left some here and came back for them later?” she ventured.

“We already went over that,” Kaya explained, glaring at the old man. “He won’t come back until he knows that the city is safe.”

“Which could be quite some time,” the fisherman said with a rude snigger. “Now make up your mind before I just leave and save my own skin. That fire is getting closer by the minute.”

“We are all in danger if we stay here,” Kaya said to Gin. He did not reply but nodded solemnly in agreement. A few moments of tense silence passed.

Into the midst of this silence, another figure emerged from behind them. He came so quietly that Gin whirled around and nearly drew out his sword in fear of being attacked. But the figure did not assail them, it merely stood still. He was robed in a tan hooded cloak so that most of his face was shielded. On his back was a long wooden staff and there were no sandals on his feet.

“Who are you?” Gin growled, his hand hovering over his sword hilt.

The figure slowly reached up with both hands and removed the hood, so that his face could be seen. He could not be much older than fourteen or fifteen, but there was courage in him, as his eyes were set and unafraid. He had obviously been on a long journey, as he was thin, dark-skinned, and his feet were cracked and calloused. The most telling sign, however, was that his head was recently shaved, with a thin layer of black stubble left.

“A monk?” Saru whispered.

“You detected me easily,” the boy said, seeming impressed. “Are you proficient with that weapon of yours?” His eyes fell upon Gin’s sword.

Gin stared back into his deep eyes but said nothing.

“Would you like to find out first-hand?” Saru threatened, stepping forward.

“And you?” he said, shifting his gaze towards her. “Can you use that naginata? Or is it just for show?”

Saru grinned. “I could split a sprout like you in half if that’s what you’re asking.”

The monk did not move for a moment, but his eyes scanned back and forth slowly as if assessing the scene.

“I overheard your argument from across the docks. Your voices are loud for those whose words are best left unheard. However, I may be able to help you. I have room for a few more on my ship.”

Gin and Saru both glanced at each other in amazement.

“But I have strict conditions,” he continued.

“I’m sure we can afford your price,” Kaya said, revealing the heavy purse in her hand.

“I have no need of coin,” the boy returned.

Saru laughed. “Spoken like a true monk!”

“Then what is it that you need?” asked Gin, continuing to eye the boy with suspicion.

The monk’s posture became even more rigid, and his face showed signs of self-disgust. “I need protection,” he said as if it pained him.

“What do you mean?” Gin demanded.

“I am a courier, of sorts, and I need to deliver an urgent message to my superiors at once. It is imperative that I complete this task.”

“The Truists must not be doing that well if they are using children to run important errands,” taunted Saru haughtily.

“I am upon my trial,” the monk retorted scornfully. “It is our law that an initiate undergoes a trial to see if he is worthy of being accepted as a full member of the Truist Order.”

“So, you are not even a real monk, just a trainee?”

“Where are you headed?” asked Gin, interrupting their heated exchange.

The boy stared back at him; his eyes revealed some hesitation. “About a two-week ride into the heart of Nakashima. I plan to land the ship a half day’s journey north of Matsuyama, acquire horses, and ride swiftly to my destination. I’ll be plain, the Middle Country is not friendly to the weak or weary. If it comes to it, can you fight?”

The two companions glanced at each other once again. “If you would give us a moment,” Gintaro said, turning with Saru so that the initiate-monk could not overhear their conversation. Kaya also leaned in, much to the consternation of the old fisherman, who was tapping his foot in annoyance.

“We desperately need to flee this place. That is our priority,” Kaya started, her voice full of anxiety. “Once we get across, we can figure the rest of it out. Just agree to his conditions for now and then simply refuse when you get across. I do not think this boy would be able to compel you to go with him.”

Gin scowled at Kaya. “I am not about to break my word, especially to a member of the Truist Order.”

“I didn’t take you to be such a religious man, but I agree. It doesn’t sit right with me to break a promise,” Saru agreed, “Especially if he gets us safely across.”

Kaya said nothing but her agitation was tangible. She bowed and stood over by the other women, awaiting a verdict.

“Where do you think they are taking Yuki?” Saru asked Gin as if reading his mind.

“I believe she is headed northeast, perhaps towards the Old Capital.”

“So why don’t we go with him? Either we wait here for another boat and risk capture, or depart with the monk, perhaps lose a few days but then continue northwards?”

“This monk isn’t telling us everything,” he murmured, shooting the young monk a glance as he waited stoically with his arms crossed. “However, I am not sure we will lose much time if we go with him. After what was done today, the high roads are no longer an option for me. The traffic is too heavy, and I risk being spotted and caught. This time they will not be so foolish to take me as a prisoner as they did earlier. I have to take the lesser-known paths through the heart of the island, and that seems to be where this man wants to go.”

“Then it is settled,” Saru said with an air of finality.

“You don’t have to do this,” Gin insisted, looking at her with sorrowful gratitude. “You could get home much faster by taking the high roads, or by catching a vessel in Matsuyama.”

Saru smiled gently. “We are both going north, no? I’m in no special haste. However, we are still one person short. There is only room for eight with the fisherman.”

“I’ll take care of that,” said Gin, turning around to face the initiate-monk once more. “We accept your conditions, monk, under the added condition that you will take our other companion and not obligate her to aid you, as she is not proficient with weapons unless you count her tongue,” he said, motioning towards Kaya.

She appeared offended but forced a polite bow.

“I doubt you’ll find anyone else willing to take such a gamble for a mere ride across the strait,” he continued. “And we are proven warriors, whether you believe it or not.”

“Do you swear by the All-kami that you will honor your pledge?” the young monk asked. The two made their vows. The boy did not respond for several moments. Then, he answered with a formal bow of his own. “Very well, but it will be crowded.”

Gintaro exhaled with relief, and the young women cheered with joy. At once they were able to board the old fisherman’s ship, though Kaya continued to threaten the old man with bodily harm if he misbehaved.

“If you lay so much as one dirty finger on those girls, I will come for you myself and cut it off and more!” she snapped, pointing a painted nail at the man who flashed her a sheepish grin. It was a pitiful look, and Gin could not help but smile seeing Kaya play the mother hen. She paid the man half his earnings in advance and promised the other half when the girls were brought to Matsuyama without blemish. The boat was off within a few minutes, and the girls waved and cried out for Kaya, and thanked Gin and Saru for their sacrifice with deep bows.

Once they were safely off, Kaya turned and followed the pair, who in turn followed the young initiate-monk towards his vessel. It took only a few minutes, and soon they stood at the edge of another wharf, but when they arrived there, they saw nothing.

“Where’s the ship?” inquired Kaya, with a hint of panic in her voice.

“There,” the monk said plainly, pointing down off the very edge of the wooden planks. They all had to crane their necks and nearly step off the wharf itself to see the small skiff, which bobbed up and down in the waves.

“We are going to cross the strait in that?” Saru grumbled, her face draining of all color.

“I am a servant of the Truist Order,” the boy stated with a shrug. “Do you not know? We are sworn to a life of poverty.”

Saru gulped, following Kaya who was the first down the small ladder, anxious to finally be off. Gintaro went next while the monk came last, as he had to unmoor the skiff from the dock. In the center, there was a vertical pole with a canvas, perhaps as high as a man, two sets of oars, and a wooden rudder in the back. Gin and Saru sat by the oars while Kaya sat at the bow, and the monk positioned the rudder and opened the sail.

They each turned to look back one last time upon Kagiminato, which was still burning brightly. The same brisk night wind that caused such devastation to the city, lifted the sail and carried them away from the docks until gradually it became something like the pulsing glow of an ember on the horizon.

As soon as the city had faded from view, Gintaro sat back and breathed out slowly. Exhaustion was hitting him like a stone wall, as his muscles ached from exertion and his head pounded from stress. Kaya, noticing this, pulled a water flask from her supplies and handed it to him cautiously. He glared back at her balefully, but as he was terribly thirsty, he took it and gulped down half the flask.

“You can have it all,” she said quietly, watching him drink as if he was dying of thirst. “Gin-san, listen, I am sorry...” she said all at once. Tears gathered in her eyes. “The Lieutenant, he would have killed those girls if he found out I let you go!”

Gin’s face flushed with rage. “You used me, Kaya! You manipulated me, and now how many are dead? The Lieutenant is dead, the guards are dead, and the whole city is burning as we speak! Is that what you wanted?”

She grew still and cold. She moved her mouth as if to say something but then changed her mind.

The monk and Saru were listening carefully, but they too remained silent.

“I am tired,” Gin said softly. “I am tired of people using my emotions for their own personal gain. Of all people, I thought you knew and would respect that.”

At those words, Kaya’s mouth quivered, and she buried her face into her hands and sobbed.

Gin closed his eyes for he could barely hold them open any longer. He had indeed killed, but it was not all Kaya’s fault. He was also complicit. He let himself lose control once again, and whenever he did so, he always came to regret it. Yet the world was cruel, and men the cruelest of all created things. They trapped him, beat him, and lied to him. He had to escape. What else could he have done?

Why had he ever picked up the sword to begin with? Before he knew better, the way of the sword seemed romantic and adventurous. It was the stuff of stories and legends. It was all he ever wanted. And when he finally began training, he was consumed by it. He trained so hard that he often pushed himself to the brink of death. But he kept on going, day by day, using every free moment he could spare. He loved it. He knew that he had found the one thing in this world that he could be great at, and it satisfied him.

However, with knowledge of the sword came the power to use it, and shortly thereafter he began to see what the way of the sword really was. It was not a romantic thing. It was an instrument of death. And in his hands, the sword had shed enough blood throughout the years. It was an extension of the white-hot rage suppressed inside of him.

Even so, his old teacher did not consider the sword as evil. He respected it, even revered it. He did not think of it as a vile thing but as a symbol of hope.

“The sword in and of itself is nothing more than a beautiful piece of art,” Gin recalled him saying. “But when one takes up the sword and wields it, it becomes a part of him, and it reflects his intent, his mind, even the very depths of his soul. Depending on the man, the sword can be a beautiful thing or a terrible thing. It can save, or it can destroy. It can inspire, or it can profane. What kind of sword is yours, Gintaro?”

He ground his teeth in frustration. He had tried not to profane the sword, but his spirit, if he had one, was too wild to control. He thought that he fought out of necessity, but perhaps that too was a lie. He did not know, and he could not find the answer now. He only knew one thing for sure, his daughter was still out there, and he would have to use his sword again to save her.

The night was cold, and the air around the ship began to thicken into a pale mist. The boat gently drifted across the water, rocking slowly up and down in a methodical motion. Water occasionally sprayed over the edge, but otherwise, all was quiet.

He began to doze, exhausted from the capture, torture, and subsequent escape that he had endured. When his eyes opened again, he could see that the mist surrounding them had condensed into a thick fog. It shrouded them so heavily that he could barely make out the faces of the others, but he could sense the monk’s subtle movements on the rudder that signified that he, at least, was still awake. It was silent, and the strait was eerily calm.

Gin sat up suddenly, which rocked the boat ever so slightly. “How's it going?” he asked.

“I am not sure,” the monk replied after a moment. There was a pang of unease in his voice. “We’ve been stuck in this mist for a half hour or so, and the wind has died down to barely a breeze. I’ve kept her straight, but it’s hard to see where we are. Do you have any idea? I am no seafarer.”

Gintaro did not like the sound of the monk’s explanation. He peered around once again. The fog blotted out any hopes of seeing the pale light from the moon or stars. In the darkness, it was virtually impossible to get a grasp on their position. From what he remembered, the strait usually took about an hour or two to cross, depending on the conditions. They had to at least be in the middle of the strait by now, but if they happened to veer off course, they could be heading into the deep ocean, where their small, single-masted skiff would not fare well.

“I did not want to say anything,” the monk continued, lowering his voice even further, “But I keep seeing strange lights off in the distance. It could just be my eyes. They’ve gotten tired from straining to see through this fog.”

Gin turned back around. “What kind of lights?”

“Two lights. Pale lights. They appear here and there, never for long.”

“It’s probably nothing,” said Gin, but inside he was not so sure.

Several minutes later the last gasp of the soft wind that had carried them along fell flat, and their ship puttered to a standstill. The water was now like glass, but the fog if anything, had gotten stronger. It was almost so thick that he had trouble breathing. He could taste the dampness on his tongue. He nudged Saru who was across from him, sleeping softly.

She rose reluctantly, but eventually came to her senses, particularly when she noticed the dense blanket of fog. “Have we crossed already?” she asked, as she did not feel the boat moving.

“No,” said Gin. “The wind has died. We’re going to need to row.”

The two went to work, synchronizing their movements so that they could proceed. Kaya had also awoken from sleep, but sat quietly at the bow, staring off into the distance.

“How much time do we have left?” Saru asked as she pulled back on the oar with a heave.

“It is hard to say,” Gin returned. “This is some of the thickest fog I have ever seen.”

“I wonder if the girls are safe,” Kaya whispered to herself.

“There!” the monk suddenly cried, pointing off into the distance. “Did you see those lights?”

Gin and Saru shook their heads, but Kaya nodded.

“I thought I saw something,” she said softly.

“What were they?” Gin asked again, urgency growing in his tone. “What did you see?”

“I am not sure. It disappeared quickly. It looked like two glowing spheres.”

“Yes!” the monk affirmed. “Like wisps in the air!”

Gin peered out and then down at the water. Slowly, a sense of dread began to creep over him. “You told us that sailors met something out on the water that kept them from going out. What exactly did they see?” he asked Kaya.

She looked uncomfortable and said nothing for a few moments. Finally, she gathered the courage to speak. “Some said it was a spectral ship out on the waters, shielded by mist. Others said it was a great sea monster, hairless and black. Others said it was a ghost and some said it was a kami.” Her voice quieted, but she continued. “No one I have talked to had seen it for themselves. It has been just a rumor among the fishermen, and there have been many such stories over the years. It has never been seen on the strait, only on the open sea in the east. We should be safe here.”

“Unless we are not in the strait,” Saru countered. “We have no idea where we are in this mist.”

“Seafarers have always told stories of monsters in the deep,” Gin stated. “While most are just stories, my background has made me wonder. These tales must start somewhere.”

“Do you really believe them?” Kaya asked nervously.

Gin did not reply but continued to peer out into the mist.

They continued rowing for another several minutes. Nothing unusual happened. The thick fog persisted, and they had no help in terms of wind. None on the ship said as much as a word, but kept their eyes open, ever searching. It was dark, so very dark that they could not tell if they were really moving at all.

“There they are again!” the monk suddenly cried.

This time Gin saw them. The others had been telling the truth after all. Two pale orbs of light appeared off the port side of the ship, hovered and swayed, and then dissipated quickly.

Gintaro instantly stood. “Kaya, switch with me,” he commanded.

She obeyed, and they crossed the narrow lane by the mast, until Gin stood at the bow of the ship, staring out intently. Kaya grabbed an oar and continued to row in his stead. It was deathly quiet.

“Gin, what’s going on?” whispered Saru, her voice quivering with fear.

He did not answer at first but continued to stare into the wall of mist. “The fog,” he finally said. “I think that it is following us.”

“How is that possible? Don’t tell me you believe her story?”

“The yomi are real,” the monk muttered, his voice hushed but frightened. “Though if this truly is one, we are doomed.”

“Is this why you brought us here?” Saru snapped, “To fight monsters for you? Well, I’m sorry, but that’s not what we agreed to!”

The monk opened his mouth to reply but stopped as he saw Gintaro unsheathe his sword and hold it out as if he were squaring off with an invisible opponent. His posture was rigid and his muscles tense, as if he were ready to strike at a moment’s notice. A minute passed. Still, nothing happened.

At once, an enormous figure emerged from the water ahead of them, shaking the small skiff so violently that it nearly capsized. In the dense mist, all they could see was a faint outline of the giant, but it rose tall like a man from the water, whose lower half was still submerged. Two lights floated, towering above them, representing the creature’s ghastly eyes. They were now focused upon them with tangible malice. Gin did not yet make a move but stood as still as stone. His sword and magatama around his neck emitted a pale blue light, giving just the faintest illumination in which to see the monster. It was as dark as pitch, but the outline of it resembled a slender man with long, sleek arms that extended down to the sea. It had no clear features other than its wisps for eyes, and round, bulbous head.

The creature reared up, and a long, serpentine arm stretched out for their ship, threatening to smash it into pieces. But Gin held his ground, and at the last moment clove into the monster’s outstretched hand. The monster quickly retracted its injured limb and howled with fury. The wind from its roar scattered the mist around it so that all could clearly identify its slick, wet shape. It was a horrific thing, dark as the night yet tall and mighty, a titanic figure looming over them.

Gin’s sword shone even brighter, and he held it out, readying himself once again. “What do you desire, ancient one?” he cried, trying to keep his balance as the boat rocked back and forth.

The monster hissed, still suffering from the wound by Gin’s sword. “Blood!” It replied, its voice was deep and low and rumbled like thunder.

“Whose blood?” he shouted, glaring at the monster ruefully.

The pale eyes were now focused on Gin’s glowing sword, and it remained hunched as if giving way to caution.

“They who slaughtered the holy ones!” it finally answered. “They who defiled the pure and cast them into the sea!”

“Holy ones?” murmured Gin, as if to himself. “Ah!” He then turned to face the monk, who was in the back of the boat quailing at the sight of the creature before them. “Do you have any incense?” he asked urgently.

The monk was stunned for a moment but then lunged for his pack near his feet.

“Gin! Behind you!” Saru screamed, as the blackened hand shot forward once again. He barely managed to deflect it again, but this time the wound he caused was more effective, as the roar the creature let out was even louder than before.

“Light the incense!” Gin commanded, this time not making the mistake of turning his back on his opponent. “And then recite a sutra!”

“Which sutra?” the monk cried, fumbling to light the small stick of incense he held.

“Any!” Gin shouted, holding out his sword and exposing the black magatama on his chest. “Do you want revenge, ancient one, is that it?” he said to the monster, who was drawing closer to the ship. “But the holy ones are commanded against committing such acts. They would want you to be at peace, not overwhelmed by rage!”

The monster hissed but then grew quiet for a moment.

“Here we have a holy one. Would you send him to his death like the others?”

By now the monk’s flame had been lit, and the incense burned and rose up to meet the mist. The boy’s voice cracked with terror, and his folded hands trembled, but he recited an old sutra as best he could. Kaya was laying on the bottom of the boat as if struck dead, and Saru merely watched on in horror, unable to move.

“This…” the monster’s voice returned, but this time it was less formidable and more serene.

“Yes,” Gintaro said, and his voice was calm. “He is one of them. He is praying for you.” The monster’s glowing eyes now shifted from the swordsman to the boy, who continued his sutra. Gradually, the black creature lessened in stature, until it became the size of an ordinary man, resembling the monk that sat amongst them. It floated along the side of the boat and then reached out a gentle hand towards the boy but stopped short of actually touching him. It then looked down at its own hand, black, wet, and slick.

“We shall find those who did this to us,” the creature said as if to itself, its voice now less terrible. Indeed, there was an angelic ring to it. “Then we shall have justice.” At that moment, the dark being sunk back into the sea. Immediately, the mist began to thin around them, like smoke being let out of an open window. Gin, with his sharp vision, could see that two lights had illuminated once again in the far distance but seemed to be moving away from them, creeping along the water.

Several minutes passed before the mist disappeared completely from view and everyone in the boat could let out an exhale of relief. The initiate, clearly terrified, bent over the stern and threw up, while Kaya quietly sobbed, her face buried in her hands. Saru leaned forward while Gintaro sat down at the bow and sheathed his sword. No one said a word.

After several minutes, Saru finally broke the silence. “What was that…thing?”

“Not here,” answered Gin, his voice still quiet. “Let’s get away from this place first.” He took control of the oar once again from Kaya, and they rowed silently for a good half an hour before the wind returned. The thick fog had all but disappeared by that time, and at last, the soft glow of dawn peeked over the horizon.