The Eye of the Kami

Yukiana had enjoyed festival days for as long as she could remember. Even when she was living among the austere Truists, whose idea of a celebration was filled with stoic rituals, she always looked forward to them. It was a chance to let go of the rigors of life, to break from the patterns of discipline or duty that each person laid out for themselves. It was a time devoted specifically to having fun, and so she did her best to celebrate to the fullest.

Every festival was a bit different, depending on the time of the season and cause for celebration, but there were always certain similarities. For one, everyone took a day of rest, which meant that many people suddenly had free time who did not otherwise have any at all. This usually made for an interesting time, as working men who were usually quite disciplined, often drank far too much and said things that they would never admit to the next day. Older women, who were always so polite and reserved, were more flirtatious and daring. During the last summer festival, Yuki had even overheard Mokuwahara-sensei brazenly comment on one man’s figure, when he was hardly half her age and married with children.

There were always dozens of stalls set up selling various wares which included hand-crafted toys for the youth, pottery, and art, and of course plenty of food. There was never a shortage of sake, and everyone came out in their best attire.

For a summer festival, it was custom to wear a light yukata and tall geta, a kind of wooden sandal. The yukata was just one layer of the full, multi-layered kimono, which were rarely seen in small villages like Kokoro as it was too expensive and impractical. Yukiana only knew one woman who owned a five-layered kimono, and that was the village head’s wife, but she claimed to have only worn it on her wedding day and a few special ceremonies in the provincial capital. Even if there had been residents with full kimono, the summer festival was often too hot to wear them.

The yukata was a less expensive option and best suited for the stifling summer air, and they could also be just as beautiful, in their own way, with bright patterns and elegant cuts. For the men, they could also wear yukata, which were usually dark-colored and subtly patterned, or dark hakama like her father wore.

Yuki felt that this year was her best chance at grabbing the attention she thought she deserved, for not only was she wearing a brand-new yukata, but also her body had grown since the last festival, and now it seemed to fit a lot better than in past years.

As she and her father crossed the crescent bridge that marked the center of the village and served as the entrance to the festival grounds, she could sense many eyes drawn toward them. More specifically, they seemed to fixate on her.

Yuki had never considered herself particularly beautiful. She always thought that she was too skinny and sharp-featured. Yet it had been her father who had reassured her that she looked quite like her mother, and she, so he claimed, was the most beautiful woman in the Old Capital for many years. It was only natural, he said, that she would eventually grow into her mother’s good looks. She was not sure how much he was embellishing, for she had always remembered the kindness in her mother’s face, not her sheer beauty. However, over this past year, she had begun to feel more confident in her eyes, her face, and her figure. Perhaps there was some truth in his words.

The way people talked to her, addressed her, and observed her was changing. It made her feel special, for she had always been looked on as a kind of addition to her father, who was not regarded very highly in Kokoro despite his efforts to fit in. She was now different, distinct, and free. As they passed down the bridge and into the throng of people, she could feel that her presence was creating a faint ripple of movement in the crowd. She could also feel her father grow tense. He noticed it as well.

The last thing that was common to all festivals was the music. There were always quite a few musicians who filled the town square with an irresistible sound, and in this, Kokoro was never lacking. Many of the locals were accomplished musicians, not that they would make for the Shōgun’s court, but they could do quite well for a summer festival. There were taiko or great barrel drums that were pounded upon with wooden clubs, setting the rhythm. There were also flutes, cymbals, and shamisen. Kokoro also had a koto, which was a long, stringed, table-like instrument that was played by using picks attached to the fingers, so that the musician playing it appeared as if they were casting a magic spell on the strings.

All together they made a lively noise, and within moments, Yuki’s best friend, Kotani Fuka found her through the crowd. She grabbed her hands roughly and pulled her away from her father.

Gin said nothing but gave a halfhearted smile. Festivals were not his kind of thing, but he tolerated them for her sake. He knew she was young and such excitement was the sustenance of youth. He watched her disappear in the crowd and then turned aside and searched for the nearest sake booth.

Meanwhile, Yuki’s friend Fuka led her on, talking her ear off as was ever her custom.

“You didn’t tell me you got a new yukata!” she cried, failing to mask her exasperation. “It must be brand new. It looks brand new. You always get the best things. I’m so jealous! Did you get it in town or another village? What am I saying? Your father never lets you leave the valley. Perhaps it was delivered. Anyways, you look beautiful. I saw exactly four boys stare at you when you came across the bridge, and some of the older men, but who cares about them? I asked my father to buy me a new yukata this year, but he refused. He’s too cheap for such things, and so he dooms his only daughter to wearing this ratty old nun’s robe that I wore last year and the year before that. I might have to show more of my nape if I’m ever going to attract a decent man…or my ankles. Which do you think men prefer?”

Yuki laughed heartily. “You look beautiful too.” Fuka was a nice girl, but she was not what one would call traditionally beautiful. She came from salt-of-the-earth farmers and had several stocky older brothers. She could easily be counted among them if not for her feminine clothes and soft eyes.

“Really?” Fuka said, turning around and fanning herself suggestively. “You know I’ve heard that people tend to fall in love on festival nights. That’s why they tell us to stay out of the forest. You don’t want to see what’s going on after the lamps go out.”

Yuki rolled her eyes. “Let’s walk around the square. I want everyone to get a look at us before we stuff our faces with festival food.”

Fuka was Yukiana’s best and perhaps only real friend in Kokoro. Many of the other girls were ambivalent to her, and some downright hated her. She could not understand why but assumed it was because she was an outsider. The two paired up rather well, as Fuka was also an outcast. Her family had one of the least noble lineages in Kokoro, and Fuka’s unpolished look and demeanor did nothing to help her case. Yet they both enjoyed each other’s company, having first met because both took shamisen lessons from Mokuwahara-sensei. At first, they only knew each other from passing by on their way to and from lessons, but eventually, they began to commiserate over their teacher’s harsh ways, and that blossomed into a true friendship.

“Don’t look now, but those boys over there are staring at us,” Fuka said in a quiet voice, as they stood next to a stall selling mochi.

Yuki turned her head slightly and indeed saw a group of young men looking over at them from across the square. They were not immediately familiar, so she rightly assumed they had come from a nearby village.

“I know one of them,” Fuka said, as her face flushed. “His name is Souta. He’s from Banbara, half a day’s walk south of here. He’s friends with my brother, I think they’ve hunted together before. They’re all probably from the same village.”

By now the boys’ attention had shifted, and Yuki could get a better look at them. By and large, they were not much to look at, being comparable to the other young men of Kokoro, shabby and uncouth. However, the one Fuka spoke about, Souta, was quite handsome. He was tall, and muscular but lean, and his dark yukata fit his body well. She saw him reach behind his back and pull out a fan that had been tucked into the black obi around his waist. There was an ease to the way he moved, it seemed so effortless, so casual.

“Could he possibly fall for a girl like me?” Yuki allowed herself to think, suppressing the idea that it might upset Fuka, who was also clearly enamored. “Maybe,” she thought. “Maybe on a night like tonight.”

It hadn’t been more than a minute of shameless infatuation before Yuki realized that they were not the only ones paying attention to the newcomers. From the other side of the square, she could see the three Hara sisters eyeing the boys. They looked like three cats stalking mice. Yuki instinctively frowned. She did not like the Hara sisters, and they didn’t seem to like her. From the day she arrived in Kokoro, they had spread nasty rumors about her, and they were always outright cruel to Fuka.

“Let’s check out the rest of the stalls,” she suggested softly, turning aside.

The festival went on in the usual fashion. Events were held on a brightly lit wooden platform in the center that continued one after another. Yuki was interested in some, but others were either too childish or too old-fashioned. When they were not watching an event, they walked along the ring of stalls that bordered the town square, inspecting their wares and sampling delicious festival food. Here and there they stopped to talk to the other villagers, all of whom commented on how lovely they were. Even Mokuwahara was less sharp than usual, dressed in a fine pink and white, cherry blossom yukata. She nodded at them with a rare look of satisfaction, and the fact that she had no comment put Yuki and Fuka in fantastic spirits. They sang and clapped along when the festival host admonished them and stayed silent when there was a time for prayer to remember those who had recently passed.

With the beating of the taiko drums, the night wore on until it came time to do the closing bon dance. Yukiana and Fuka got into position, in one of the rings surrounding the central platform. The music began and a singer on the central platform, the robust wife of the village butcher, started to chant an old tune that had been sung at the Kokoro summer festivals from time immemorial. Her voice was flat and wildly off-key, but they laughed as they walked and swayed to the music.

“Hands up and swoosh! Hands up and swoosh! Arms like reeds, blown back and forth. Six paces forward. One lunge back. Rise up tall with arms like a mountain! Hands down and swoosh! Hands down and swoosh! Final three claps: one-two, three!”

She repeated the directions in her head as they revolved around the platform. The dance was simple and methodical, but it was fun, and all the women and young children in the village seemed to be doing their best.

Meanwhile, she could sense the eyes of the young men upon them, as they leaned on the stalls, cracking jokes, and grinning ear to ear. Souta was in the center, unmoving, but his eyes seemed to be on her. “They couldn’t be, could they?” She could not help but get caught up in it all. “What if he is looking at me?” she thought. “I have to say something to him,” she then told herself, though she did not seem to know why. As the dance continued, the thought in her mind grew larger and larger until she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. “I have to do it,” she finally resolved.

When the dance finally ended, and the final announcements came from the stage, Yukiana left Fuka and proceeded straight in the direction of the boys. It had to be this moment before she lost all of her confidence.

The group of boys seemed to notice her, and all rose tall and peacocked as best they could. She could see Souta, with his sharp jaw and dangerously black eyes. A slight smile etched his beautiful face.

“They were!” Yuki thought, trying to keep her excitement concealed. “Those eyes were on me!’

She stopped a few feet from them, as they all waited in anticipation. They had not met a girl that night with such ardor. Her heart was racing, but she steeled herself.

“Good evening,” she finally said. Her voice was meek, not at all what she intended, but she forced herself to remain calm.

Souta, clearly the eldest and leader of this group took a step forward, his eyes were fixed on hers. He opened his mouth, separating his smooth and perfect lips.

“Yuki-chan!” a voice rang out from behind.

She jumped as the booming voice startled her.

“Yuki-chan! Your father wishes to speak with you!” She knew the voice all too well. It was Maeta, her father’s dear friend, who must have been thoroughly drunk by this hour in the evening. He came up beside her, reeking of sake and grinning wildly. “Sorry to interrupt, but your father needs you. He’s competing this year and uh…he asked me to tell you, I want to say. They’re talking him over the rules now,” he paused, and Yuki knew what was coming next would be even worse. “I don’t think he wants you to be talking with these lads, either. Maybe that’s really why he sent me over. What a clever man. Said you were too young, still a child. Either way, he’s off over yonder. Go and speak to him.”

If any of the embarrassment mingled with rage made it out onto her physical appearance, Maeta was too drunk to realize it.

She turned and bowed curtly. “Thank you, Maeta-san,” she said after a few painfully awkward moments, as he had not quite gotten the hint.

“Of course!” the man bellowed, oblivious to how loud he was. He swayed off in the direction of where the contest of swords would be held.

Completely mortified, Yuki turned back towards the young men. Many of them were outright laughing. Even Souta had a wide, toothy grin.

“Better get back to your papa,” he said, his voice smooth but stung like a whip.

She bowed curtly, turned, and did her best to ignore the cackling that came from behind her.

Across the square stood her father, and it was upon him that her rage fixated. Like a storm, words flashed in her mind, words that she wanted to say to him. She wanted him to feel sorry that he had embarrassed her, she wanted to see the heartbreak on his face. She paced over to him, seething with each step.

He had just broken off a conversation with one of the men, and now he turned towards her. Her posture was rigid, and her eyes fixed sharply upon him, but when their eyes met, she quailed. She had never seen him like this before.

“I’m going to compete,” he said darkly. There was a chill in his voice, and it was so potent that all the fire within her was instantly extinguished. “You will go with Kotani-san to her parent’s house and wait for me there.”

“I…” she began but felt powerless under his gaze. She could sense his anger, the energy he emitted into the air. His posture was stiff, but loaded as if each muscle were tightening, waiting to explode in fury.

“What happened to him?” she wondered, completely forgetting about the young men. She had never known her father to become this agitated.

“I won’t be able to focus properly if you are present,” he said hurriedly. “I’ll come for you after.”

With that, he whirled around and strode towards the stake where they had hung a monstrous boar. Yuki had never particularly enjoyed the contest of swords, so this was not such a terrible blow. She would have to leave early, which stung a bit considering her failure with the boys would be the last thing she remembered about this year’s festival.

When her father disappeared to the congregating masses, her bitterness resurfaced. She exhaled slowly and then began to meander through the square, searching for Fuka.

She eventually found her friend stuffing her face with a cooked chicken thigh. Fuka pretended not to notice her at first.

“I’m sorry,” Yuki apologized, lowering her head. “I shouldn’t have left you like that.”

“What’s to be sorry for?” Fuka said in between ravenous bites. “He was clearly looking at you.”

“You’re my friend, I shouldn’t have left you behind,” Yuki admitted, this time looking straight at Fuka.

She took one last sloppy bite off the bone and then smiled. “I forgive you. Besides, I saw Maeta walk over there. You got punishment enough, I’m sure. You don’t need any more from me.”

Yuki half smiled, shaking her head. “Why of all people did it have to be Maeta?”

“Your father is a strange man,” her friend said with a laugh. “But he is no fool. He knew who he was sending.”

Yuki rolled her eyes. “Let’s leave.”

“You’re not going to stay?” her friend asked, sounding surprised. Fuka always left the festival right before the contest of swords. She did not like to see the blood, she said. A few years ago, she had thrown up after watching the event, and since then she had stayed as far away from it as possible.

“Not this year,” Yuki said with a forced smile. “Come on, I’ll keep you company.”

The two young women meandered down the quaint dirt streets of central Kokoro. It was by no account a real city, but here the houses were closer together and lined in rows, giving it a cozy feel, especially under the summer stars.

They talked as they went. Fuka relived the night while Yuki forced enthusiasm when deep down, she was disappointed with how it all went.

“I would have been a blubbering fool standing there in front of them,” Fuka said bitterly, referring to Yuki’s bold confrontation with the boys.

“Don’t say that. I shouldn’t have even done it myself. I don’t know what came over me.”

“You are always the brave one,” Fuka continued, looking up at the stars. “I wish I could be more like you.”

They soon came to the Kotani residence in the far corner of the town. They sat quietly for a few moments, listening to the chorus of frogs fill the night air.

Suddenly Yuki rose. “I think am going to walk home myself,” she said, her eyes seemingly fixed on something in the distance.

“But your father said…”

“When he comes, please tell him that I already started home.”

Fuka moved to protest but Yuki had already started walking away, as if in a daze, and did not heed her friend’s futile appeals.

Yuki ambled through the village, thinking more than taking in her surroundings. She thought of her life, which to her had seemed to be filled with so much disappointment. Her disappointment then turned into bitterness towards her father, who, though he tried hard, often seemed to make a mess of her life.

“Perhaps he should have left me with the Truists…” she wondered angrily. “Perhaps I would have been better without him.”

Suddenly Yuki felt compelled to stop where she was. She could not say why but a feeling of uneasiness came upon her. She was standing in a small, dark intersection between the rows of houses. In the distance, some cries could be heard, evidently those coming from the festival, but they were faint and indistinct. Yuki slowly turned around to see if it was Fuka following her. It was not her friend, but there was someone else there.

It appeared to be a traveling merchant, wearing a black kimono and a large, conical shade for a hat. He was leaning against the side of a house casually, and with his hat so low she could not tell if he was looking at her, or if he was asleep standing up. Yuki felt a bit angry with herself, for she must have passed right the man and had not even noticed him, being so lost in her thoughts.

She moved to turn and continue but a voice called out after her. It was a low, dark, raspy voice and it seemed to send a chill down her spine.

“Would you like to see my wares?” the merchant asked coolly.

Yuki eyed him apprehensively, and then glanced around at her surroundings. There was no one about, and most likely, no one inside any of the houses nearby, as most people would still be at the festival. This made her feel even more uncomfortable.

“No thank you,” she answered, with a voice that sounded sterner than she had anticipated.

The merchant did not seem to hear her at first, and indeed did not even stir, but the moment Yuki moved to walk away he slowly pushed himself from the wall and strode into the light of the stars. He was taller than she had originally thought, perhaps just as tall as her father, which made him seem all the more menacing.

“I have many things you may find quite interesting,” the man said, slowly approaching her.

“I have no money,” Yuki said rapidly, stepping back one, then two steps. “No, really, you must leave me alone.”

The man ceased his advance and stood still. She still could not make out his features from under his hat. “Do not be alarmed,” he said calmly. “I intend you no harm.” He held his hands with his palms facing up as an apparent gesture of goodwill. “I am merely a simple merchant, searching for rare commodities.”

Yuki’s eyes shot around once again. The man had stopped but he was only several feet away now, and if he were going to cause her harm, he would not have much further to go.

“I said no thank you,” stammered Yuki. “Now begone!” She stood taller, posturing herself as she had seen her father do from time to time when he was angry or felt threatened.

This seemed to amuse the merchant, who chuckled softly. “Ah, very well. I shall depart.” Unhurriedly, he turned himself around and began to saunter away. “It was nice to meet you,” he concluded.

Yuki thought that this was a very unusual thing to say, but she held her rigid posture for several minutes until the merchant had left and was out of view. Only then did she let herself breathe. She did not linger but strode hastily back in the direction of the festival and intercepted her father along the way. He had finished the contest of swords and was on his way to find her.

“Why are you not with Kotani-san?” he asked brusquely. He also seemed disappointed for some reason, and his clean kimono was spattered with blood.

By then Yuki had calmed down considerably and as she peered back into the deserted streets, she saw no sign of the strange merchant.

“I just wanted to walk…” she said quietly. “And think.”

Her father studied her carefully but evidently thought it best not to pry. “Very well,” he said at last. “Let’s go home.”

“That was the last full day I had with my father,” Yuki thought, emerging from delirium and breaking free into clear consciousness once again. “Until he came for me. It was that merchant…the merchant in black…he took me away.” Her eyes slowly opened, and the nightmare began once again.