The Eye of the Kami

Nō returned at nightfall as promised. He was riding a grey steed, leading two other horses by rope. The three gathered their belongings and departed back the way he had come, following a slender trail away from the cove. They soon came to the high road, but instead of remaining upon it and following it down the coastline, they crossed it almost immediately, taking a vein of the lesser-known central paths. These paths would bring them into the Middle Country, the heart of lower Nakashima. It was so named because it was the swath of land that sat between the realms of the Buta, to the south, and the Tsuru, to the north, and it was in truth controlled by no man.

In the days of the Emperors, the Middle Country was well established and prospered, despite its mountainous landscape. This range, although tall and mighty in certain places, was not as consistently high and steep as the ranges of the north. It was mostly covered by tall pines, beeches, and bamboo and was for the most part habitable. Many people used to dwell there in former years, and it was known as a fine place to harvest timber and quarry stone.

Yet when the Emperors failed, the Middle Country began to decline and became a land of huntsmen, and hardy folk, for no daimyō had established a strong place or city in that region, and thus help and aid were ever far away. Even so, it was not completely abandoned because of vital trading routes between the north and the south that cut through the wild hills. The roads were maintained, and trading posts guarded, but that was all.

By the time of the War of Ashes, the daimyō had even fewer resources to spend, and so the Middle Country and the central paths were finally overgrown and lost to all but the most daring or hard-pressed. Those who remained there kept some of the ancient roads intact, while others were altogether lost.

There were still a few permanent dwellings that existed in the Middle Country, but they were often closer to the border and nearer to the protection of the daimyō. Further within there were even fewer, being mostly the haunts of outlaws and brigands. That grim folk dwelt in the wilds for many years in relative safety, for the daimyō did not have men enough to spare to hunt them down. At first, the outlaws did not dare encroach too far into the lands of the daimyō, in fear that they might draw the wrath of the great lords towards them. But once most honest workers and tradesmen had fled the Middle Country for the safety of the coasts, the brigands had little left to plunder, and so they grew increasingly bold. They would sometimes come down from the Middle Country in great packs and take what they could before departing in haste. For a time, there was little the daimyō could do to stop them.

In most recent days, however, the raids of the outlaws had finally drawn the ire of the great lords and their retainers, who after a decade were able to recover some of their strength. The brigands began to face resistance on the borders, and fearing full retaliation, they now rarely plundered beyond the Middle Country but instead warred against each other for resources and supremacy. Gintaro understood why Nō had searched for a protective escort before departing Kagiminato, for it was not uncommon to hear of travelers waylaid or slain along the central paths if they dared to take them.

The Middle Country was also said to be home to a large population of Truists, who had come only recently, fleeing from the persecution that followed Mashige Hideyo’s rise to the Shōgunate. Mashige effectively banned the religion, and though he never outwardly used violence against them, he also did nothing to help them from being hunted by their enemies. Temples were burned, and monks put to the sword. Some had stood their ground, but many fled into the Middle Country, searching for sanctuary.

Nō intended to regroup with these outcasts and share with them some vital information, but he was reticent about revealing their location. He would not tell Gin nor Saru where, exactly, they were going but only said that they would stay on the central paths for quite some time. He would often pull out an old scroll and examine it when he sat alone to meditate. It was evidently a map, but he would not allow anyone else to set eyes upon it. This proved very irksome to Saru, who did not like the idea of following this initiate-monk into the wilds without any direction or estimate of how long it would take.

“I wish we had never agreed to this,” she often grumbled, shifting in her saddle uncomfortably.

“We had little choice,” Gin reminded her. “We took an oath, and we must honor it.” But despite his firm resolve, he would often peer above the tree line to see where they were, and as each day passed, he grew increasingly uneasy.

Nō himself said very little but watched with sharp eyes everything that Saru, and especially Gin did. When they broke camp, he sat alone, and when they went to sleep, he would often turn aside and study his map or pray in the darkness.

Several days passed since they left the cove, but it seemed to them that they had not gone as far as they should have in that time. They felt that they were always going uphill, and the summer heat was brutal, even under the heavy branches swaying above. The horses were poor beasts, underfed and overaged and they marched languidly up the path.

“It was the best I could do,” Nō explained resentfully. “We Truists do not have such a large store of wealth as we did in the time of the Emperors.”

“This horse can barely carry itself, let alone me,” Saru lamented. “And I am not such a heavy burden. I feel as though I may be the last thing this poor animal carries, and that does not sit well with me.”

“You are no light burden,” Nō shot back, taking offense at her words. “In any sense of the phrase. And I am sure the horse feels more anxiety about carrying you to its death, than the other way around.”

“What did you say?” Saru snapped, her eyes flashing with rage.

“Enough!” Gin cried, and they became quiet.

The two would often bicker, for they came from vastly diverse backgrounds. Nō was trained in the ways of the Truist Order and had a deep love for formality and tradition. Saru, on the other hand, was a true warrior of Akaii and was hot-tempered and uncouth. She often returned to the camp half-undressed after bathing herself in a nearby stream, which caused Nō great mortification.

“How dare you approach a servant of the Holy See in such a disgraceful manner! Have you no modesty? No sense of shame at all?” he would stammer, shielding his eyes and turning away in disgust.

“How can you call yourself a ‘See’ when you close your eyes every time I come back from a bath?” she would quip back with a grin. “Were we not born into this world in such a form? Did not the All-kami create us like this? How then can such a thing be called ‘disgraceful’?”

Nō would usually counter with some platitude or merely ignore her altogether.

Gintaro’s face would burn red when she came like this and he pretended to be preoccupied with his sword, or some other tasks, though he never went as far to rebuke her.

During the first few days, they passed through several established villages and renewed their stores of food and supplies for the journey to come. The people there were friendly enough until they heard that they were venturing further within. After that, they would cast looks of doubt and suspicion upon them, and they would speak to them no more. In time, these villages became smaller and less hospitable. Often the locals would scurry inside at their coming and peer at them from within the darkness of their houses of mud and thatch.

Eventually, they no longer came to any habitations at all, and those they did come across were shabby remnants, either burned and ravaged by outlaws or completely and utterly abandoned. This and the fact that the woods about them thickened and became more gnarled and foreboding, gave each of them an uneasy feeling as they pressed on.

Soon Gintaro could no longer conceal his anxiety, and after their tenth day of journeying, he turned to Nō and spoke.

“This is not my first time passing through these lands,” he said quietly, his eyes resting on the initiate monk who had just put down his bowl of soup. “Though the last time I was here, I was a young man, probably only a little older than you are now.”

Nō said nothing and waited for him to continue.

“We are drawing near to Mount Osoroshi,” he said, looking off to the north. “It is a place where none dare to dwell, from the time even before the Emperors failed. I wonder why we are going that way. Do you not know the long and grim history of that place? Or do your people now live there in secret? Is that why you have not told us where we are going?”

The monk shifted uncomfortably, and his face flushed. “I know my history well enough. It is said to be cursed, and my people would never dwell upon it or within it,” he explained. “But they do dwell in its shadow. In a way, the supposed curse protects them from those who would do them harm. As I said when we first met, I am more worried about the brigands. I have not told you this until now, but when I last left my people, I came with two other initiates. We were ambushed a few days into our journey, and my friends were taken from me.”

“What happened to them?” Saru asked from across the fire.

Nō cast his eyes down, for there was a faint shimmer on them. “I do not know. They were not only my fellow initiates, but they were like brothers to me. We grew up and trained together from the time that we were mere children.”

“I am sorry,” Gin said solemnly. “How did you manage to escape?”

“I was quicker or more fortunate than they were, I suppose. I got away and hid at first, but then I tried to go back for them. When I returned, they were gone, and I could not find them or the brigands. I searched for quite some time, but I was given a mission and knew I had to complete it. As much as it pained me, there was little I alone could do for them, so I continued on.”

There was silence for a few minutes, as the fire crackled and popped under the starry sky above. The dark blue hue of the night made the stars seem closer than they were, and the half-moon seemed to hang over them, as if within an arm’s reach.

At length, Nō spoke again. “I will tell you the truth. I plan to cross near the southern foothills of Mount Osoroshi to see if we can avoid any confrontation with the brigands. As you said, most people seem to shun the place, and no brigands dwell there that I know of. It should provide us with the cover we need to make it past them unmolested. Once we reach the mountain, it should be only a few days until we can reach my people.”

“Should does not sound very precise,” Saru interjected.

Nō exhaled slowly. “My brothers and sisters are fleeing for their lives,” he explained. “They are fleeing from persecution in the cities and violence from the brigands in the wilds. So, they have adopted a system where they do not stay in one place for long. They are continually moving, and there is an algorithm they use, which depends on the stars above. By my estimates, I can get close, but I am never sure exactly where they will be. In the end, we may need them to find us.”

Both Gintaro and Saru looked at each other with uneasiness.

“I advise you to reconsider your plan,” Gin cautioned. “This way could prove more perilous than the other. Mount Osoroshi is said to be evil.”

“And what do you know of it?” Nō shot back harshly. “All I have heard are stories and strange tales of long-forgotten ages. Have you seen anything that shines truth on these claims? If so, speak now.”

Gin shook his head slowly.

“I see. Then I counsel it is best to avoid the evil we do know and tempt fate against the evil we do not. The outlaws are cruel, bloodthirsty, and recently desperate. Their miserable lives here have made them cold, and they will not think twice about attacking innocent travelers. I have seen it with my own eyes. And they have considerable numbers, far more than we could deal with on our own.”

“But they are still men,” Gin returned. “They may be reasoned with. They may let us pass if we bargain with them. If we stay on our current course, I fear we could fall into worse danger. My master was a man of great power and courage, and even he dared not tread upon Osoroshi’s foothills. That alone should be reason enough to avoid it, for he was one of the last true Kaijin and there was truly little he would not do. If even he was wary, we should be as well.”

At this, the boy was taken aback, and for a moment even appeared frightened before hardening in defiance.

“I never thought you to be so superstitious,” Saru interjected, glancing over at Gin with a look of surprise.

“I am not superstitious,” he retorted. “But I am cautious. I must be. My daughter’s life depends on it.”

Saru furrowed her eyebrows. “I am not familiar with these lands. Tell me, why is that mountain so evil? I have never heard of this place before, though the name sounds somewhat familiar.”

The swordsman’s eyes flashed, and he lowered his voice so that it could just be heard over the crackle of the flames. “The place is Mount Osoroshi, which means, the Mountain of Dread. Before the days of the Shinjin, the God-man, it was a stronghold of the great evil that dominated these Islands and enslaved the people who lived upon them. It was the lair of many terrible yomi of that age, and it was ruled by a being so powerful that it was able to bend the yomi to its command.”

“The Akuma,” Nō whispered.

“The Yomi King...” Saru mouthed with understanding.

Gintaro confirmed this with a grave nod. “When the Shinjin began his campaign, there was a great battle upon Minami-shima, where he miraculously won. We passed near to it as we traveled beside Mount Omukae on our way to Kagiminato. After that battle, the Shinjin came and invaded Nakashima, and after rallying the people here, he laid siege to the fortress of Osoroshi. It took many years, and it was a bitter struggle. Then, just as they began to make progress, he was said to have been murdered by one of his most trusted servants on the eve of the decisive battle. All thought that the war would be lost. Yet, a few days later, the gate of Osoroshi was broken asunder, and the Shinjin’s remaining followers were able to push through. The Truists believe that the Shinjin took on his divine form and mortally wounded the Akuma, for his followers found the Akuma dead in his very stronghold.

From the servants of the Shinjin, a pious and skilled warrior, Teru Masada, was chosen to be the First Emperor. It was his duty to continue the movement that the Shinjin started and cleanse the Islands of yomi. He did his best, but he never made it that far, for he died on the march north, in a place we now know as the Old Capital.”

“From there, I remember my history, at least some of it,” Saru said, her face coming to life from the sudden remembrance. “After that, the sons of the First Emperor continued the march and besieged the Dim Mountain, the place they call Oboroshi, for it is often obscured by harsh storms. With the combined might of many of the different peoples nearby, they managed to sunder the gates of Oboroshi, and in one last desperate push, they destroyed the last bastion of evil upon this island. The dominion of the Yomi King was then broken, and all the other yomi fled, and the glorious age of the Emperors began. The wisdom of the Shinjin was taught far and wide then, and it coalesced into what we now call Truism.”

“I am impressed by your knowledge,” Gin admitted. “Where did you learn such old lore?”

Saru shrugged. “The legend is tied to the origin of my people. The warriors of Akaii were said to be vital in the defeat of the remaining hosts of the Yomi King and were given the lands north of Oboroshi as their own. We have dwelt there ever since.”

“I see. Well, it was from those two fortresses that the Akuma controlled the Islands in the age before the Shinjin and the Emperors. Though the Mountain of Dread was said to be its chief domain, the Dim Mountain was hardly less evil. The line of the Emperors was at first potent and they wielded great power but even so, it was with great sacrifice that they were able to besiege both bastions. And not all the evil under either mountain was utterly destroyed, or so the tales go.”

“The Akaii have many stories of those days,” Saru mused aloud, “But nowadays, they are not considered to be true history, but rather legends or myths handed down. Many now consider the Yomi King and his realm underneath the Dim Mountain as silly tales to frighten children into obedience, or as dread stories to tell around the fireside.”

“Most people now think that way,” Nō said quietly. “Most yomi now dwell in secret, not openly, and have thus faded into superstition. Many doubt that they even exist at all. But after crossing the strait, well, we all know better than to deny the truth.”

“Yomi and kami both exist. It does not require belief, it just takes a bit of searching in the old and dark places of the world,” Gin declared, eyeing the young monk. “I have dealt with both, unlike the All-kami whom you Truists hold in such esteem. He I have yet to meet.

Anyways, although I cannot say for certain that everything written in the histories is true, it is widely known that the Emperors did not do as they ought and failed to fully cleanse the mountains of the evil within, for they were weary of war. They also dreaded what they would find in the depths. And they did not do what they ought, in keeping the evil from gathering once again, for within a few generations the posts around the mountains were abandoned and left to crumble. So now this place has been abandoned for hundreds of years, and I do not wish to see it any nearer if it can be helped.”

“But you are a Kaijin,” Nō insisted, growing angry. “You should…”

“I told you; I am no Kaijin!” Gin cried, rising to his feet. His face was so stern and frightening at that moment that both Saru and Nō drew back and were afraid. After a moment, he relaxed and sat down once again, hunching forward, and stared deeply into the flames. “We agreed to escort you to your people,” he said at last. “We will follow you where you lead us until our oath is fulfilled.”

“Then we will continue towards the mountain,” Nō declared obstinately and then strode into the shade of the woods.

The following day Nō led them on, bringing them ever closer to the mountain as he had promised. They kept to an ancient path that meandered slowly up toward Osoroshi’s dark foothills. Gin was still anxious but tried not to let it show, for he did not want to usurp the boy’s decision now that it was set. Like Nō, he had no desire to encounter any of the brigands, for if they did, there would be a chance that he would have to fight, and he was weary of killing. This way could prove best after all if they managed to pass without issue. Yet a shadow hung over his heart, and he could not dismiss it.

The mountain earned its name well, for the closer they drew towards it, the thicker and more difficult the path became if one could even consider it a path at all. It was more like an overgrown hunting trail, which had not seen regular use in many long years. The trees surrounding it were old, twisted, and had an evil look to them. Despite it being the height of summer, many trees were grey and ashen and bore no leaves. These great trees were thick and gnarled and had seen many lives of men come and pass before them. They creaked and cracked in the wind like the bending of old bones. The cry of the wild beasts and birds of the air had also died down to an eerie quietness, and only the occasional cawing of crows arose in its stead. These hideous birds would perch on the knotted branches above them and watch them with their impenetrable black eyes.

The trail leading up to the mountain was tortuous and often doubled back on itself, much to the frustration of the monk. He would often repeat proverbs to himself such as, “Day by day, step by step,” and, “Fear evil and only evil. Do not seek it in the howling wind.” But both of his companions could sense that his unease was growing.

The days passed slowly, and they saw and heard nothing of brigands or terrors or indeed of any creeping thing. Mount Osoroshi had become like a great grey wall before them, dominating the landscape and filling their eyes as they proceeded toward it. They were now well upon the base of the dread mountain itself, and the land would continue to rise at an increasingly sharp gradient as they continued. An uncomfortable silence seemed to suffocate them like a poisonous cloud.

They moved slowly and warily, for they did not want to break the silence in some kind of unexplainable fear of what it would bring. They were nervous to even speak, for they did not want to draw attention to themselves. Saru glanced around from tree to tree, trying to espy an insect or some strange flower that she had never seen before. Like Minami-shima, this region of the Islands was completely foreign to her. Nō often would close his eyes in meditation or quietly inspect his map and glance at the heavens above. Gintaro was also quieter than usual. His face was grave, and he appeared lost in old memories.

Then, fifteen days after they departed from the coast, low dark clouds moved in from the east and with it a great storm, which was not uncommon when the hot sun boiled the seas. Rain poured down with great globs of water that erupted on contact, and the wind caused sheets of rain to sweep across their path and sting the sides of their faces. It was only minutes before they were completely soaked to the bone. Mighty peals of thunder echoed above, and flashes of lightning lit the sky overhead, and this was too much for their poor horses. They began to panic, and all three had to do everything they could to keep them under control. A few separate times the horses sped off, nearly throwing Nō and Saru from their backs. It took a great deal of effort to master them, and once that finally occurred, the sky would explode once again in tumult.

“It’s no use!” Gin called out from his horse, as Nō had once again lost control, and was pulling frantically at his reins. “We need to find shelter!”

Not long before this, they had passed what appeared to be a rocky cave on their ascent but had not paid it much mind, as they were to continue their march until nightfall. They had only managed to discover it by chance, for Saru had gone off to dispose of the refuse and spoke to them of the place upon her return. Gin had not thought much of it at first, but now such a shelter would be sensible, at least to give the horses some peace from the terrible skies above. The travelers themselves were also sorely tired, for the slow path up the foot of the mountain had drained them, and they were weary of the grim hospitality of the wilds.

“The cave?” Nō answered in return, thinking likewise. Gin waved, signaling ‘yes,’ and Saru, without a moment’s hesitation, spurred her horse down the path in its direction. They made it back faster than they expected, and the horses were instantly relieved to take refuge within the cave’s mouth.

The cave itself appeared to be cloven into the side of a rocky ridge in one of the mountain’s ominous foothills, partially facing the mountain itself. It had a wide gaping entrance, but further within was a narrow tunnel that continued for an indeterminable distance. This made Gin uneasy, and it almost caused him to reject the cave entirely. But as he inspected the wide entrance, he could see that it would make for good shelter, as there was nothing but dry rock and stone and enough space for them and their horses to rest.

“We have no other choice,” he said sourly, drawing the horses within.

Nō agreed to this, and they made their camp, setting up a small fire towards the back of the cave’s mouth. They fed the horses and threw their soaked outer garments on the rocks to have a chance of drying.

It was a dim, greyish place, but it was unlikely that they would find much better considering where they were. The three moved lethargically, as if in a stupor of weariness, and prepared the camp in near silence. Each was tired and nervous, and the violent storm outside did nothing to brighten their spirits. Night soon fell, and the clouds swirling overhead made it darker than usual so that even their meager fire illuminated only the immediate area and nothing beyond. After all was settled, and being chilled from the dampness, they soon cast themselves down by the fire and ate their evening meal.

“We should rise at dawn,” Nō remarked, poking at his bowl of soup with his chopsticks languidly. Both Gin and Saru nodded slowly but said nothing. “We shall soon be moving away from the mountain,” he continued, pulling out his map. “There should be an old trail that is not far from where we are now. From there, we must travel a day or two, and then, depending on the stars, we will be in the lands of my people. Once we enter their domain, they will find us. Then, perhaps, we can all enjoy a much-needed rest.

This gave a small dose of fuel to the low flame of their hopes, and even Saru flashed a soft smile. “It’ll be nice to be among other people again,” she said. “Even if they are tight-fisted ascetics.”

“I have heard those rumors, but my people are not all like that,” Nō countered. “We only take what we need, but that is to provide for the less fortunate. If you must know, we do prepare a fine table, even out here in the wilds, where you can eat fruits, honey, and rice cakes to your heart’s content. You will be able to rest in safety, mend your belongings, and grow strong in both body and spirit. I am sure you will be warmly received, and you will receive great honor for aiding me in my mission.”

“It sounds like a dream,” said Gintaro, setting down his bowl and leaning against the large, smoothed stone behind him. “I know that I could use a few days of good rest. I am weary, wearier than I have ever been before, I think. When I was young, this kind of life was all I ever knew, but now, I am no longer conditioned to it. I am forging ahead by my will alone, and I know that eventually, my body will fail me. I can only hope that it holds out long enough.”

“Then stay and be refreshed,” Nō said in earnest. “You will be revered above all. A Kai...I mean a man of your talents has not been seen by our order for many years.”

“I am afraid that I cannot stay there for longer than is absolutely necessary.” There was a tinge of melancholy in his words. “I also have a mission, the same as you. And I feel like every moment I waste is another I have failed.”

Nō was at first dejected but forced a look of understanding. “Even still. You will at least need to replenish your supplies, for they will not last us much longer.” He spoke the truth, as some of the rations they had bought from the last village spoiled early, leaving them with just a few days of food left, and that was if they ate sparingly.

Saru had already begun to doze off, so Gin turned to his side and pulled his collar up around him, for there was a biting chill on the mountain that night. Nō went back to inspecting his map, until he too could no longer bear it, and succumbed to a gnawing and irresistible slumber.