The Eye of the Kami

Yuki gazed up at her captor, terrified and transfixed. The last several days had been a blur, and she had been unconscious for most of it. She knew that he was drugging her, giving her a concoction to drink from time to time, which tasted bitter and vegetal and left her mouth dry. In her waking moments, she had wailed relentlessly and cried out, hoping for rescue, but it had not come.

She intermittently recollected the hard, groping hands that had pulled her from her own house in broad daylight. He had poured a burning liquid down her throat, and nearly all was forgotten after that. She also recalled seeing her father struggling with her captor. She had seen him tumble hard on the dirt path. She did not know if he had survived it. He could very well be dead.

“My father could be dead.” The thought nearly broke her. Tears formed in her eyes, but she fought down her first instinct to cry out. She needed a new plan. If her father were alive, he would find her, if she could manage to stay alive.

The merchant studied her for a few moments. His dark eyes were impenetrable.

“So, you will finally stay quiet,” he said at last. “That’s good. I was running out of ingredients for the sleeping potion.” His voice was raspy and low, and his thin lips curled into a smile within his patchy, black beard. “You could force me to get more, but this liquor is difficult to wean from the longer you take it. I advise that you remain quiet.”

Yuki stared back at the man, slowly regaining her senses for the first time in days. She could feel the tight chords wrapped around her hands and ankles. She tested them, but they were quite secure. Her eyes darted around. They were in a small clearing, somewhere amid a heavily wooded forest that was indistinguishable from the other woods of her island. It was dusk, and the blackness of night was imminent. Her stomach growled loudly. It must have been quite some time since she had last eaten.

The merchant noticed this as well and grabbed a small pot from the fire behind him. Setting it before her, he grabbed her arms and loosed the cords that bound her hands together with a quick flick of a knife that he produced from his sleeve.

“Eat,” he commanded firmly.

She glanced down, it was a vegetable soup with miso, a mixture of fermented soybeans. It looked and smelled delicious, but she could not bring herself to take food from this vile man. The mere sight of him made her skin crawl. She lifted her eyes and glared at her captor in defiance.

He frowned back at her. “Do I need to pour it down your throat?” he asked, threateningly. “I’ll drug you just enough so that you’re clueless and you will eat it. Believe me, I have done it before to get information out of our enemies. Do not mistake me for a second-rate assassin. Anyone can kill. It takes real skill to keep someone alive. You will eat one way or the other.”

“I need to stay conscious,” thought Yuki. “I have no chance of escape or get help if I’m drugged.” She reached down and grabbed the pot. It was warm. She lifted it to her lips and drank it down. It was surprisingly tasty.

“Good, no?” he asked, a wry grin crossing his face.

Yuki did not answer.

“You can’t live a vagabond’s life in the wilderness without figuring out how to make a meal or two. I think I’ve developed quite a few over the years.”

“Who are you?” Yuki interrupted. Her voice was pointed and sharp.

“She speaks!” the man cried, feigning surprise. There was ostentatiousness in his voice that sparked rage inside of her, though she did everything she could to suppress it.

She also took this moment to inspect her captor. He was a filthy man, his black clothes stained with dirt and blood. But he was tall and formidable and bore many scars which were not too unlike her father’s. His long hair was greasy and black, with thin, loose curls. This contrasted with his wild beard which was poker-straight but varied in length and thickness. His face was thin and angular, with sharp lines and features. He was a man in his prime, appearing to be in his mid to late twenties. There was an air of experience and confidence about him.

“I am in his element,” she thought, “The wilds.”

“I am but a tool,” he said, after an exceptionally long pause. He wore a self-gratifying smile, being pleased with the irony in his description. “What really matters is the hand that wields me, but you don’t think I would tell you that, do you?”

Yuki gave him a hard look. “Why did you take me?”

“Come on!” the man said with a short laugh. “You should be able to figure that much out on your own.”

She thought for a moment. Everything had happened so fast that she did not have the time to process it fully. But he was right, the motive was clear.

“You want my father,” she said quietly. “And I am the bait.” Her own words hit her like a blow to the stomach.

The merchant nodded and smiled wickedly. “Very good.”

“If you will not tell me who sent you, then I am sure you won’t tell me what you want from my father,” she reasoned out loud.

“Another astute observation,” said the man, his grin widening.

“Then will you tell me where we are going?”

The man’s face shifted. He was actually thinking about this one. “North, for now,” he said cautiously.

“A half-truth,” she thought. “My captor is dangerous and clever. But he wants to talk. I wonder why?” Just then she noticed the wound on his left arm. He had wrapped it, but the blood had seeped through, and he was carrying it gingerly.

“You’re wounded,” she observed.

This time his face soured into an angry expression. “Don’t you worry about me. I have suffered much worse than this.” With that, he turned and began busying himself with the fire. There was silence, and in the quietness, Yuki finished the soup and the flask filled with water that was next to her. His back was turned to her, but her feet were still tied. Her hand lowered slowly, testing the knot. It was tied too tightly to remove without significant force. But perhaps she could find a sharp stone or wear it down by rubbing it against something hard.

“I wouldn’t try it,” the man warned, without turning to face her. She froze. After a moment he turned once again. By now night had fallen, and only the fire was there to illuminate them in a starless sky. His eyes were on her again, and for the first time, she felt the utter despair of her situation.

“He can do anything he wants with me,” she thought, her heart beginning to race.

He sat down across from her, casually, almost in a friendly kind of way. But she knew his intent was far from friendly. He drew closer to her so that she could make out the details of his face and smell the sour tint to his breath.

“Now that you are conscious, I am going to lay down the rules, my rules,” he said. “One. You will not try to escape. I warn you now if you do, I will find you, and if anyone has aided you in your attempted escape, they will be killed. As for you, I was ordered to keep you alive, but there is a lot of freedom that definition affords me. Do you understand my meaning?”

She did not reply, but the merchant continued.

“Two. If we encounter another person on our path, you will not cry out or call for help. If you do, I will kill that person, may it be a young man or an old woman. I will cut them to pieces and make you carry their remains in your rucksack until we get to where we need to be. Do you understand?”

The muscles in Yuki’s face tensed, but she did her best to maintain her composure. “He has to say this,” she thought. “He needs me under control. But for some reason, I do not doubt his threats. This man is a killer.”

“Three. If you try to kill me, I won’t take it personally, but there will be consequences.” His eyes lingered on her body for a bit too long. “Ideally, we make it to our destination with you in perfect health. In a way, if you behave, there is really nothing to worry about. My assignment was to keep you alive and bring you to a specified place, and I must say there is no one more capable on these islands than myself. You will be completely safe, as long as you obey. Understand?”

Yuki merely scowled at him.

He grinned. “You are a stubborn one, must take after your father. He was a relentless old fool.” The man rubbed his forehead where Gintaro had previously struck him.

“And if my father comes for me?” she finally said, her voice rising and filling the clearing.

The merchant’s smile twisted, revealing a sharp, animalistic grinding of teeth. He moved even closer, almost so that his face was upon hers. “Then you will watch him be defeated once again.” His whisper was enough to chill her to the bone. “Get some rest,” he said, as he rose to his feet. “True sleep will help rid your body of the excess potion. We have made good time so far, but there is still a long way to go.”

She eyed him warily. She did not trust him but had expected a man like this to have treated her more roughly than he had. “He is right about himself. He is no second-rate assassin. A hired thug would have had his way with me by now, or worse.” She was not naive about what often happened to women who were carried off. She had read about it in many of the histories and storybooks. It frightened her more than death. But this man had shown restraint, at least for now.

He had also given her some glimmer of hope, though he probably had not realized it. He had admitted to her that she was indeed the bait for her father. This, of course, meant that he did not suspect her father dead, despite their vicious battle outside of Kokoro. Indeed, as grim as it sounded, if her life were a priority, she could believe that her father was still alive. She did not know what they wanted from him, and the trap could spring at any moment. But for now, she knew that he was alive, and that gave her just enough motivation to push on. She could rest, she could recover, and she could wait for him. He would come, she believed that with all her heart.

She watched her captor as he sat across the fire, leaning upon an old tree for his bed. Soon she could sense the soft, regular breathing of a man sleeping. Despite her mind screaming to stay awake, her body eventually succumbed to the remainder of the potion, and slowly, and unwillingly, she was dragged into a deep, dreamless slumber.

She woke early the next morning, moist with sweat, despite it being sunrise and cool for a summer morning. Her captor was already awake, and he was packing things up for the day ahead. He noticed her stir, grabbed the pot once again and handed it to her. He then released her bonds like the night before.

“You won’t feel yourself for a few days until all of the potion has worked its way out,” he explained. He handed her a pair of chopsticks for her to eat the boiled white rice that was inside the pot.

“I doubt I’ll ever be myself again,” she thought, still half hoping that she was going to wake up and be lying on her comfortable futon inside of her home.

“I am going into a nearby town for supplies,” the merchant said. “Unfortunately, I won’t be able to bring you along. I still don’t trust you to behave.”

“So, what will become of me?” she asked, fearing that he was going to drug her again.

“You will remain here,” he said, “And watch over the horse.” He pointed to the steed that was grazing across the fireplace from her. It was a strong steed, black as the night and proud for he eyed her warily. “This is Tegata. I sent him to the nearby river to get a drink and to rest last evening. He returned early this morning as he always does. He is a good beast. He does what he’s told. You could learn well from him.” There was a playful look in the merchant’s eyes, but there was also a sneer on his face.

“I am not a beast!” Yuki cried, her anger flaring.

“You’re right,” the merchant replied with a nod. “You are the burden.”

When she had finished the food, her captor made an empty apology and then deftly tied her to the thick maple behind her so that she could only move her head. She had tried to resist him, but his overwhelming strength was too much for her, and he was quick with his work. Before she knew it, she was secured to the tree, unable to move her arms.

“This is ridiculous!” she snapped.

“As I said, I don’t trust you. We are also close enough to your home that you might consider making a break for it. If I were you, the thought would have already crossed my mind. So today a tight knot is required. Don’t worry, it will loosen with time.”

He rose and picked up his pack and casually strode into the forest. Yuki listened until she could no longer hear his footsteps in the brush. Then, with all her might, she struggled to get free, bending and twisting in every way possible. But the rope was skillfully tied, and it dug into her skin until she began to chafe and bleed. After several minutes she realized that this way was futile.

She then began to search for anything within range of her foot that she could lift and use as a sharp edge. But there was nothing, not even a sharp stick nearby.

“He already scoured this place,” she thought, realizing the improbability of there being absolutely nothing around her she could use. “He didn’t leave anything to chance.”

She was at once overcome by a wave of despair as she began to comprehend the desperate nature of her situation. If she was not rescued soon, she would never see her father or Kokoro again. Her entire life would never be the same. Everything that she knew, the peace and ease of her former life, even the small trials that now seemed so trivial, was nothing compared to what was happening and what was coming. She had realized hell. With this thought, her mind was on the very verge of shattering, headed to a place where there was no easy way out. But for some inexplicable reason, she stepped away from the edge.

“Hope is an intentional state of the heart, not a mere response to facts.” She remembered that line from the Book of Precepts. And then remembered another phrase from the same chapter, “In bleak circumstances, one must resist the primal nature of mindlessness, and give oneself to mindfulness.”

“I must not give in,” she thought. Then, she did her best to remember every detail of the past few days that would be helpful for her. She could at least try to figure out where she was.

“I don’t remember boarding a ship,” she reasoned. “So, I must still be on Minami-shima.”

She imagined the map of the Islands she had once studied back at the monastery. Minami-shima itself was not especially large, dwarfed in size by the all-important Nakashima. Yet it always played some part in the history of the Islands. It could not be ignored. It had the powerful ship-lords, the Kagi, in the northeast, of which Kokoro was a part, though situated on its very southern border.

To the northwest, there was the resourceful Zōji, a clan that was infamous for its dealings with the outlanders. They had been defeated during the War of Ashes, and it was the new Shōgun who raised them back from the ashes to check the power of the Kagi, who were his known enemies. However, they were no longer numbered among the Great Houses.

In the south of Minami-shima, there was the enigmatic Shizu, whose ancient house dated back longer than any others. History had told very little of them, for they usually stayed out of conflicts and kept to themselves. They had finally sided with the current Shōgun in the War of Ashes, but only because they were essentially forced to choose a side, and even then, it was a half-hearted attempt. If they had thrown their whole weight against him, many had speculated that they could have altered the outcome of the war. Their land was also famous for religious pilgrims, as there were many ancient sites within their territory, as well as an active volcano, Mount Hi, that had erupted several times since the Shinjin walked upon the Islands. Because of their remoteness, they were also not listed among the Great Houses.

“He mentioned that we were headed north,” she remembered, “So, I must still be in the Kagi domain. That is some good fortune. If I could escape, I bet I could find my way home on my own. The people here would aid me.” Then she remembered her captor’s cruel threat and her ardor waned.

She went back over all her clear memories and those that were hazy. She poured over every detail as best she could. There had to be something there that could help her.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps approaching from her left.

“That was quick,” she thought, directing her attention to the noise.

She expected to see the lean figure of the merchant prowl back into the clearing once again but gasped when she realized she was wrong.

“Souta?” she said, half believing her eyes. It was the last person she expected to see. Indeed, if anyone were to find her, she expected it to be her father.

The young man glanced at her briefly, but studied the clearing thoroughly first, making sure no one else was around. When he was satisfied, he hurried over to her and knelt at her side.

“Yukiana! Are you alright?” he whispered, his dark eyes peering into hers.

She was so elated that she could not speak. She nodded rapidly.

“I felt horrible about what happened the other night,” he said, looking down for a moment. “But when I heard about what happened to you, I knew what I had to do.”

He grabbed a sharp hunting knife from behind his back and began sawing at the hard rope.

“How did you find us?” Yukiana asked, maneuvering so that she was not in the way of his knife.

“I do a lot of hunting for my village. I often stalk deer, bear, and wild boar. I know a thing or two about tracking. I followed the horse tracks down to the river, and then back up to this clearing. I waited until the coast was clear.”

Yuki gazed at the handsome young man. She was impressed that he had found her, and even more so that he evaded her captor’s diligent sight. Whatever misgivings she held about him for his lack of courage on the night of the summer festival, she quickly set them aside.

“Souta...” she whispered. “You shouldn’t have come.”

He shook his head stubbornly, ignoring her warning. “Where is the outlaw anyways?” he asked. “I was hoping to put my knife through his ribs.”

Yuki, now clearly free of the bonds surveyed the camp for herself. “It's impossible. This man is a trained killer. We need to get out of here now. He won’t stop until he finds us. We need to find my father. He is the only one I know who might be able to defeat him.”

Souta nodded. “Let’s go then. How much time do you think we have until he gets back here?”

“I’m not sure,” she said, beginning to follow him. “He said he was just going to the town nearby.”

Souta turned around to face her. “Town?” he asked, his face revealing a quizzical expression. “There isn’t a town or village around here. The nearest one is a few days away unless he’s going back to Kokoro. We’ll have plenty of time...”

Yuki’s face turned pale white. He had not yet realized it, but she did.

“No...” she muttered under her breath, but it was too late.

She heard a faint sound which reminded her of a whistle. It came from behind Souta and intensified rapidly. Then, there was a forceful crack, as a blunted object struck the back of Souta’s skull. He made the sound of a forced gasp and then immediately crumpled to the ground. Standing behind him was her captor, garbed in black like the spirit of death, the hilt of his blade bloodied by the back of Souta’s scalp.

Yuki screamed in horror. Her arms extended outwards as if to catch the young man, but knowing they could not save him, they recoiled suddenly and seemed to contract as if made of stone.

Her captor knelt to inspect the body. “I told you the rules,” he said severely.

Yuki continued to wail uncontrollably. She had never seen a person savaged like that before. She had never seen eyes roll back lifeless. She had never known how dark blood could be so fresh from its source. And this was a boy she knew. He had tried to save her.

Her captor glanced over at Yuki without any hint of emotion. “I knew he was tracking us,” he explained, wiping the hilt of his weapon clean with a dark, bloodstained cloth, “But the clever rascal stayed just far enough away that it would have wasted time to hunt him down and leave you unwatched. I figured he would make his move when he heard your voice and saw you conscious.”

Yuki slowly quieted but was still shaking uncontrollably.

“It was a foolish move,” the merchant continued. “Moving into a clearing such as this without a thorough inspection.”

She shot a red-eyed glare at the man. “He was trying to save me!”

“So he was,” the man shrugged, rising once again. “But in this world, there is only achievement and failure. Life and death. My blow was relatively superficial, so he will live. But he will never come back for you. He knows now that I am far beyond him.”

Yuki bent forward and retched up the food she had eaten earlier that day.

“Ah, you’re not used to blood,” he observed, as he stepped around her and sat down at the campsite. “You will be.” He threw her a dirty towel, but it landed atop her shoulders awkwardly.

“I am glad this happened today,” he continued, leaning back while swigging a bottle of sake. “Now you know how I truly operate. I won’t have to tie you up as much. So, I guess he did rescue you from something.” With that, he chuckled, and it was a sound so cold and so cruel that she felt utterly terrified.

“I hate this man,” she thought, as she spat out the rest of the acid from her mouth. “And I will never, ever, forgive him.”