Obscura

This was a last-minute submission for IronAge Media's writing prompt: "The Succession"

“Obscura” is a short story submission written for an IronAge Media story prompt (WC: ~7,000). Wrote it in two days, so bear with me as I’ll probably be editing a few more drafts on here, but the story is already complete and should be enjoyable as-is! If you enjoyed, please consider voting for the story here: https://ironage.media/prompt/the-succession.html

Update: Now fully edited!

Update 2: Translation guide added at the end.

Everyone in Hansha Village knew of Kenji’s powerful gift, but no one expected he’d ever use it against them.

“Akito, Hana,” Kenji shouted, his voice ringing through the village square. Though the warm afternoon sun cast a pleasant autumn glow on the crumbling cobble and surrounding idyllic hills, the air was thick with tension. The villagers exchanged worried glances as they gathered around the trio.

Hana, clad in a puff-sleeved dress, her long twintails swaying gently in the breeze, stepped forward, her voice trembling. “What do you want with us, Kenji?”

Akito towered over them with his muscular build, his rugged clothes dirt-covered from a long day working the fields. “You’ve no right to confront us—You’re barely half my age.”

Kenji took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to reveal. “Do you know anything about the sword?”

Hana’s eyes widened with surprise as Akito stepped between them, instinctively shielding her. “What sword are you talking about?”

Kenji let the ensuing silence speak volumes. Akito was playing dumb, Kenji was sure of it. And his sister glanced about nervously. They were hiding something.

A murmur of unease rippled throughout the crowd. Everyone knew the sword in question—the sacred treasure that had protected Hansha for generations. Its disappearance during the summer had left the village vulnerable and desperate.

“The Omotenashi,” Kenji declared, removing all remaining doubt.

Gasps of disbelief echoed through the square, all eyes turning to Akito and Hana. The siblings’ faces paled, their actions laid bare before the entire village.

Akito reacted swiftly, his hand lashing out to snatch Kenji’s wrist. “You’re just trying to get us into trouble,” he growled.

“Unhand him, Akito!” shouted elder Yoshio, striking the young man’s arm with his cane. “Show respect for your village seer.”

Akito winced, snapping his hand back as he muttered, “Kenji’s just a kid. Can’t you see he’s making this up? He’s jealous of our father’s legacy.”

But Kenji pressed on, his determination unwavering. “I know you two were in the mountains.”

A flicker of defiance crossed Akito’s face. “So what? We’ve been up there countless times. Doesn’t prove anything.”

Hana, still trembling, said, “We don’t even know if the sword is in the mountains, Kenji.”

Elder Sachiko stepped forward, her voice filled with urgency. “If you two had anything to do with the theft of the Omotenashi, fess up now. Our very lives depend on it!”

A middle-aged farmer, Masaru, shook his head. “We’ve combed the surrounding mountains and foothills from top to bottom. If the holy relic were there, we’d have found it by now.”

As the crowd grew more agitated, a voice of reason emerged. “Let’s hear what Kenji has to say.”

The villagers paused, their attention shifting back to Kenji. “Tell us what you saw,” another person chimed in.

Kenji explained, “I had a dream. Akito and Hana were ascending a stone staircase toward a waterfall in early summer. And I saw a sword at Akito’s side.”

“That’s it?” asked Masaru.

Kenji nodded. “This dream was important.”

“How do you know the sword you saw in your dream was the Omotenashi?”

Kenji hesitated, his confidence wavering. “Well, I… I don’t,” he admitted, his shoulders slumping under the weight of the villager’s questioning. “But I’m certain this dream will lead us to the Omotenashi.”

“Kenji’s grasping at straws,” said Masaru, swatting his hand in dismissal.

Hana spoke up. “Akito carries a bokuto when we hike in the mountains. I’m sure this is all just a misunderstanding.”

As more villagers lost faith in Kenji and his prophetic vision, the crowd began to disperse.

Elder Sachiko shook her head. “Kenji’s under immense pressure. The village council was counting on him to save us from the blight. We shouldn’t be too hard on him, the poor dear. He’s only trying to help.”

“Then he should be helping with the harvest instead of wasting our time with mystic nonsense,” grumbled Masaru before turning to leave.

“Don’t get our hopes up,” muttered a passerby. “Especially not over this.”

Kenji could see the hurt in a pair of cold, distant eyes that could only belong to someone who knew her children may not survive the winter.

As he tried to slink away unnoticed, Akito’s mocking tone cut through the air. “A dream, was it? Well if you’re so certain, why not go to the mountains yourself? If the sword’s truly up there, you’ll find it, won’t you?” With a shove, he sent Kenji stumbling away.

Kenji had failed to convince the village council of the validity of his vision. And now, with this latest stunt, he’d only succeeded in making matters worse.

He wandered the quiet streets, heart heavy with the weight of his failure. Maybe the others were right. Maybe he should drop this pursuit and focus on helping in the fields. But all the while, a burning question lingered in his mind: Why hadn’t he experienced this vision sooner?

Around the bend was the ancient shrine, its weathered wood and moss-covered stones radiating an aura of tranquility and ancient wisdom. As he stepped through the torii gate, he regained his sense of peace. Washing his hands at the temizu, his eyes spotted Hana in the pure water’s reflection.

She beckoned him aside, looking distraught. Kenji could sense the weight of her burden and invited her into the shrine for a cup of fragrant tea.

He poured them each a cup of hojicha infused with ginger and honey, filling the air with an earthy, sweet aroma.

“Kenji,” she whispered, her gaze downcast. “I’m terrified. The elders say that half of us may not survive the coming winter. I don’t want to believe it, but fear gnaws at my heart.”

Kenji reached out, his hand gently squeezing hers. “Everywhere I look these days, I see fear and desperation. I can’t help but feel partially responsible for that. I grew too desperate to set things right. I’m sorry, Hana.”

She looked to Kenji, shaking her head. “No. You did the right thing. Your gift has helped our village countless times, and my brother’s grown jealous of you. He dreams of becoming a hero like our father, to one day create a holy relic our village will remember him by.”

“I hope his dream comes true.” Kenji blew on the rich amber tea and let the honeyed flavor roll over his tongue.

Hana took her first sip as well, and the drink seemed to calm her. “I want to tell you something, Kenji, but it must remain secret. Akito would be furious if he ever found out.”

“O-of course.”

Her voice grew softer. “Like you had said, we journeyed through the mountains this summer. Akito thought if he could wield the Omotenashi and vanquish a monster, he’d become a legend.”

Kenji’s eyes widened. “So he really did take the sword?”

Hana nodded, tears hinting in her eyes. “I tried to dissuade him, but he felt entitled to it ever since the council traded away our father’s relic.”

His heart tightened. He understood the kind of pressure that drove Akito to act the way he did. “What did you do once you found out?”

“I accompanied him. Because I was worried.” Her eyes grew distant. “We found an old path and climbed a series of smooth stone steps to the base of a waterfall, just as you described. But a mysterious red face emerged from the cascading water.”

“A red face?”

Hana nodded. “Its voice was otherworldly. It demanded Akito drop the sword and run, or we would both die. And in his fear, he did just that. I was even more afraid. We fled, our hearts pounding with terror, too fearful to retrieve the sword.”

“Do you know which mountain this happened on?”

“Akai Kiri,” she replied, her voice just above a whisper. “I couldn’t bear to tell anyone. If word spread that he’d lost our village’s last sacred relic and fled in fear, it would shatter Akito’s dreams. He promised to make it right, but too much time has passed since then. Things have gone too far.”

“I see.” Setting down his cup, Kenji fetched a scroll and spread it across the table. “Can you mark the location of the waterfall?”

She leaned over, studying the ancient rendering of Akai Kiri carefully, then dipped a brush in the inkwell and marked an X. “Truth is, we were hoping the council would have found another holy relic by now.”

Kenji shook his head, a sense of disappointment settling over him. “The council exhausted every possibility. After my visions failed to locate the Omotenashi and the expeditions turned up no trace, the elders searched far and wide for a new relic, and even pleaded with the great cities to let us trade for a holy relic. They all refused, including Fuchigami, who wouldn’t consider loaning us the relic your father had left behind.”

Hana’s heart sank as she realized the gravity of the situation. “It’s a shame we’ve let our sacred treasures slip away so easily.” She stared at spinning tea leaves a moment. “But we retraced our steps the very next day,” she continued. “The Omotenashi was gone. Even behind the waterfall, there was nothing but a sheer rock wall – Why couldn’t you see what had happened until now, Kenji?”

“That question has been eating me, Hana. My powers are still growing. Someone more powerful than I could have been hiding its whereabouts. Or perhaps the sword has been taken too far away.”

Hana swallowed her tea uneasily and set the cup aside.

Kenji’s brow furrowed as he contemplated the mystery. “The creature behind the waterfall—what did it look like? Aside from being red, I mean.”

Her voice quivered as she recalled the eerie encounter. “It wasn’t a normal human face. Akito thinks it may have been a tengu yamabushi. But the face was hard to make out. It could have just as easily been someone playing tricks on us.”

Kenji shifted uneasily, his thoughts racing. “A tengu would certainly possess enough power to conceal the Omotenashi from my sight.”

Hana gazed up at Kenji with a mixture of respect and sorrow. “I regret this burden has fallen upon your shoulders, Kenji.”

He stood, his resolve strengthening with each passing moment. “I’ll do everything in my power to make this right.”

“You’re not planning on venturing to Akai Kiri alone, are you?” Hana asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Kenji hesitated before responding. “Only as a last resort. I will keep your secret safe. If I must share any information with the village council, I will claim it came to me in a vision. That way, you won’t face any repercussions. I’ll try to protect your brother as well.”

Hana’s eyes glimmered with hope. “Thank you, Kenji, thank you!”

“But Hana,” Kenji cautioned, his tone serious, “one day, you must confront your brother about this deception. Holding onto such a secret can corrupt the soul.”

She nodded grimly, understanding the weight of his words. “I promise I’ll speak with him, Kenji.”

As she prepared to leave, the tea leaves at the bottom of her cup gave Kenji an overwhelming sense of foreboding. “Before you speak with your brother,” stammered Kenji, “I’ll need more time.”

Confusion crossed Hana’s eyes, but she gave a gentle nod on her way out the door.

As Hana’s footsteps faded into the distance, Kenji’s mind was awhirl with the revelations Hana had shared. Akito had taken the Omotenashi, and together with Hana, they were the last to see it. But the truth of what had transpired that day remained a mystery. Could it be that her brother had hidden the sacred blade, or was a mischievous tengu truly playing tricks on their village? And the tea leaves, certainly a bad omen. What did it all mean?

The young seer sighed. He knew what was next.

---

Kenji stood before the village council, his small frame dwarfed by the large, imposing table. The council of wise elders gazed down at him, their seasoned faces showing a mixture of skepticism and concern.

“Kenji,” said council leader Hiroshi, his voice deep and resonant, “why are you occupying the council’s precious time during a crisis?”

“Elders, I have information regarding the whereabouts of the Omotenashi,” Kenji began, his voice shrinking under the weight of the elders’ gaze.

Hiroshi raised a bushy eyebrow. “We heard about your wild and desperate accusations in the village square.”

This elicited a muted chuckle from the rest of the council.

Kenji took a deep breath. “I’ve had another vision, elders. New information has come to light.”

“Does this have to do with your accusations toward Akito and Hana?” asked Elder Takeshi, a stern man with a large scar running down his cheek.

Kenji nodded. “It does. A vision confirmed the mountain from my dream was Akai Kiri. And there, Akito and his sister were confronted by a strange figure in the waterfall who told them to drop the sword or face death. I have reason to believe a tengu has been playing tricks on our village.”

The council members exchanged glances, some looking shocked, others skeptical.

Elder Kenzo stroked his long white beard, his eyes narrowing as he considered Kenji’s words. “This is a serious accusation, Kenji,” he said, his voice grave. “I admit Akai Kiri is home to several mischievous entities that have caused us problems in the past. But even our best scouting parties have come up empty-handed. What makes you think you’ll fare any different?”

Kenji nodded, his determination unwavering. “The sword may yet be well-hidden, waiting to be discovered. I intend to find it.”

“You’re still unsure of its whereabouts?”

“I… understand you’re protective of Akito,” said Kenji. “His father was a village hero. But I’m certain the Omotenashi is somewhere on Akai Kiri. If we don’t do something, the blight will continue to spread well into spring. We don’t have time to find another relic.”

“Which is why we need every able-handed villager to help with harvest and storage,” said the council leader. “The time for prophecy has passed.”

“Please,” begged Kenji, “let me go to the mountain with a small group. I’m confident if we uncover what happened that day, I can locate the Omotenashi.”

“Kenji, we cannot spare the provisions for an expedition,” said Elder Takeshi. “Not with the crops failing.”

“Besides,” said another councilman, “can’t this journey wait until next year?”

“With all due respect, elders,” said Kenji, trying not to grind his teeth, “there are too many lives at stake to not act upon this new information.”

“I understand your concern, Kenji,” said council leader Hiroshi. “But without knowing exactly where the sword is, this could amount to nothing more than wasted time and resources. This distraction could cost our village more lives than necessary.”

The council members conferred in hushed whispers, their faces communicating conflicting emotions. Finally, the council leader raised his hand, silencing the room.

“Kenji, this hearing is hereby dismissed,” he declared. “If you obtain information regarding the exact location of the sword, we will reconvene. Otherwise, we will revisit this topic in the spring. For now, you are to report immediately to harvest station six.”

Kenji reluctantly bowed. Saying anything else would have been pointless. He doubted revealing more of Hana’s story would be enough to sway them.

As he turned to leave, the council leader called out one last time. “Kenji, you’re forbidden to leave this village until winter preparations are complete.”

Kenji paused, tightening his fists in frustration. The council’s dismissal was unfortunate, but expected. But this was too much. He didn’t want to go against the elders’ wishes, but they had left him little choice. He’d already decided that watching the villagers starve through winter when he could have done something was not an option he could live with.

None-the-less, Kenji changed into work clothes and reported to the harvest station as asked. To his relief, Akito was in a distant field, seeming none the wiser about his sister’s confession.

Many of the crops had wilted with blackened leaves, but the root crops had escaped the blight and still thrived. As he toiled alongside the other villagers, young and old alike, he could see their faces etched with the weight of their task. A cool, steady breeze carried the sweet scent of osmanthus, reminding him of the resilience that surrounded him.

They were hard workers, but the blight ensured they were fighting a losing battle. As village seer, Kenji felt more duty-bound than ever to help in his own way.

As the sun cast a golden glow across the land, Kenji looked up at the majestic mountain of Akai Kiri, its peaks shrouded in mist as if hiding a secret.

Leaving the public baths after a hard day’s work, the jinja greeted him with a serene stillness. The redolence of burning incense calmed his mind and prepared him for the difficult task that lay ahead.

Kenji knelt before the shrine and began to pray, his voice low and earnest. He sought guidance, strength, and protection from the benevolent spirits that dwelled within the sacred walls. With his prayers complete, Kenji readied himself for his mountain journey.

He removed the sacred bells from his hiking gear and set them aside for safekeeping. In their place, he tied an omamori for protection. Next, Kenji wrapped himself in a pristine white haori, a reminder of his duty to protect the village, and his role as a seeker of truth.

He wrapped his feet in bandages before slipping on his sandals—a precaution against the rough and unforgiving terrain. A single black legging served to symbolize the dual nature of man, while a short hakama ensured ease of mobility.

With his tinder box, the marked map, a small compass, a dagger, a hatchet, a blanket, a water flask, and a pouch of sacred rice carefully packed, Kenji felt prepared. He paused one final moment for prayer and reflection, pleading again with the kami for their protection and guidance.

With a final bow, Kenji stole away into the night with a focused mind. The moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the deserted streets of Hansha Village.

Avoiding the gates, he made his way to the harvest station, hoping to sneak out under the cover of rotting crops. He moved swiftly but cautiously, his footsteps silent against the damp earth.

Following the path to the hills, Kenji felt the looming presence of the mountains ahead, their dark silhouettes seeming to beckon him forward. Along luminous fields of spider lilies he found himself at the first bridge, an intimidating expanse that towered high above a void of darkness.

He gripped the splintered rope of the suspension bridge with both hands, feeling the wooden planks sway with every gentle push of wind. Though he’d never crossed these bridges under the cloak of night, the stars above glittered like diamonds against the velvet sky, their ethereal light beckoning him forward.

Kenji crossed the final bridge connecting to Akai Kiri proper as the first rays of dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and gold. Beneath it was the sacred lake, its crystal-clear waters reflecting the lone torii gate that stood vigil over its depths. Whispers of the dragon that lay imprisoned beneath its surface charged the air. Many powerful beings once dwelled upon this mountain. Perhaps some still.

A solitary crow cawed as it soared overhead, its wings cutting through the stillness. Another bad omen. Kenji pressed onward.

The first climbing station was a flat rest area nestled amidst a lush forest ablaze with the vibrant hues of autumn. Only evergreens stood sentinel at the second station, their resilient boughs a testament to the mountain’s enduring spirit. As Kenji ascended higher, the evergreens grew more sparse. Looking to higher elevations, the landscape transformed completely – the trees blackened, laid low with ash before giving way to bare rock and snow.

At the third station, a shrine stood in quiet reverence, inviting Kenji to pause and cleanse his spirit. After orienting himself on the map, he ventured off the mountain path to where he believed was the ancient Path of Kakushoku – a sacred route used long ago by those who aspired to the ways of the miko.

At last, his feet found the weathered stone steps from his dream, smoothed over and depressed from the passage of time and cascading water. But they were bone dry at this time of year, leaving his footsteps to echo in the still of nature.

He searched along the stone path, hoping to find any signs of the discarded sword when a strange sensation prickled the back of his neck, making him feel as if he were being watched. Kenji remained vigilant, knowing a mischievous tengu may not be far.

The rocky stairs ended abruptly at the crevasse. The waterfall had been reduced to a mere trickle, exposing the bare rock where the stranger who had confronted Akito and Hana would have stood. When Kenji placed his hand against the glistening, unyielding wall, he stumbled to his knees as a vision flashed before his eyes.

A blushing woman wearing the red and white robes of a miko stood in his mind’s eye, her satchel stuffed with supplies, her shoulder-length black hair framed by a fur-lined hood. A sword hung from her belt - and this time Kenji was certain it was the Omotenashi. By her side, a chubby white rabbit—about the size of a dog—sat on its haunches, its sable eyes gleaming with unearthly knowledge.

The ground beneath their feet appeared to be a collection of polished amber and copper stones, creating a shimmering mosaic.

As the vision faded, Kenji found himself on hands and knees against the cool stone steps, his heart racing and his breath short. The image of the red-clad miko and her loyal companion lingered in his mind.

The parents of Hansha Village told their children of a red witch of the mountains, a woman named Akane. The story went that she had wandered into Hansha as a young orphan, her body covered in the ash of a terrible volcanic eruption. The kind-hearted villagers took her in, unaware of the incredible power that lay dormant within her.

As a child, Akane had delighted in using her magical abilities to amuse the villagers, basking in the sense of specialness that her gifts bestowed. The elders of the village encouraged her to use her powers for good, to one day become a heroine who would leave behind a relic to protect the community. To teach her discipline and humility, they encouraged her to become a shrine maiden, believing her abilities could one day serve a higher purpose.

Her powers grew stronger with each passing year, and her once playful nature twisted into something far more sinister. She would sweep away the good luck of the villagers under the cover of night, cast curses, and neglect her duties at the temple in favor of her own whims. Despite many warnings, Akane continued to indulge in her malevolent deeds, fueled by a growing resentment and a belief that she should be free to do as she pleased without facing any consequences.

The elders decided to put an end to her reign of terror by banning her from the village. But rather than face judgment, Akane fled into the mountains and hid herself away, never to be seen again.

The legend went that the red witch has been a thorn in the side of Hansha Village ever since, casting hexes upon the community from afar, reveling in the chaos and misery she could inflict from the safety of her mountain hideaway.

As Kenji pondered the tale, he couldn’t help but wonder how much of the story was embellished folklore.

Just then, a lustrous white rabbit darted across the steps, its fluffy tail a blur of motion against the ancient rocks. With a burst of determination Kenji gave chase, sensing an overwhelming supernatural energy radiating from the creature.

But the rabbit proved far too swift, its paws barely seeming to touch the ground as it bounded away, leaving Kenji winded and frustrated in its wake. As he caught his breath, a nagging thought crept into his mind – could it have been an illusion, a trick played by the witch to throw him off her trail?

Out of breath and doubled over, Kenji was ready to concede when his eyes were drawn to a copper-hued rock at the top of the cliff, its smooth surface glinting in the sunlight. He searched for a way to climb higher.

To his surprise, he found an abundance of natural footholds and gnarled tree roots to help him in his ascent. These were man-made and had been used recently. Keeping quiet, Kenji slowly made his way up the cliff face, his fingers gripping the rough bark for support.

As he reached the summit, Kenji’s breath caught. Before him lay a hidden oasis, a steaming hot spring that bubbled and hissed its inviting warmth. Surrounding it was the same mosaic of amber and copper that he’d seen in his vision.

Kenji remained hidden as he scanned the area for any sign of the witch or her loyal companion. But as the mist began to swirl around him, concealing his presence, he felt a flicker of courage and ventured forth.

On the other side of a boulder, Kenji found a thatchwork of dried, twisted roots which he gently moved aside to uncover a small cave entrance. Peeking inside, he saw what appeared to be a secret shrine.

As Kenji’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, a sense of unease settled over him. The air was thick with the stench of decay and the walls were adorned with strange, blood-red symbols that seemed to pulse with an ancient, malevolent energy. In its center stood an altar upon which rested the Omotenashi – its once-shining blade now black and corrupted.

The tengu mask that hung on the wall seemed to watch him with its demonic red eyes, its long, twisted nose a mocking reminder of how it had been used to trick Hana and Akito. Kenji’s gaze then fell upon a desecrated maetengan, its once-sacred purpose now twisted into something sinister and unrecognizable. The gehobako, too, had been corrupted, its pure offerings now replaced with the trappings of dark magick and forbidden rituals. The entire shrine was a sick derision of their tradition and culture.

Kenji’s heart pounded as he contemplated his next move. The cursed blade lay before him, its dark aura palpable even from a distance. Part of him longed to grab it and make a mad dash for freedom. But he knew it would be foolish to touch it without first purging the malevolence.

A sudden gust of wind swept through the cavern, carrying with it the faint scent of cherry blossoms. It felt wrong, with the sakura long out of season. Kenji lunged forward, his hand reaching to claim the tainted Omotenashi when the sound of a child’s laughter echoed throughout the chamber, staying his hand. His blood ran cold.

“Foolish boy,” a feminine voice called out from the shadows, “you think you can take that which does not belong to you?”

Kenji’s grip tightened on the dagger concealed within his robes as he searched for the source of the voice.

A high-pitched, childish squeal of delight rang out. A second voice. “He’s a thief, just like you said-pyon!”

Pyon? The word seemed to hang in the air, the context unclear.

Then, from behind a stone column, a figure emerged. The witch from his vision. Only this time she was dressed in a woolen haori. And in her hand was a black gohei wand, which she waved menacingly in Kenji’s direction.

“That sword is mine,” the witch declared, her voice cold and unyielding. “I have protected your village for generations and will continue to do so. You cannot have it.”

Kenji stood frozen, his heart hammering against his ribcage. He opened his mouth to speak but found himself unable to form words. He prayed silently for the strength to stand his ground. “I-I was told you lay curses upon our village, Akane,” Kenji managed, his voice trembling slightly as he took small steps toward her.

The red witch’s lips curled into a chilling smile, her eyes never leaving his. “So my reputation precedes me, even to this day.”

“You need to return the Omotenashi to its rightful place,” pressed Kenji. He studied her deep brown eyes, searching for any signs of weakness or vulnerability.

“Why should I?” Akane retorted, stepping across the cavern floor with a predatory grace, sizing up her prey like a hunter eyeing its next meal. “The people of Hansha have grown complacent, relying on a single holy relic for their protection. Your councilmen are full of hubris. They’ve become soft, vulnerable. By holding this relic here, I’m helping the people of Hansha grow in strength.”

“If you truly felt that way, why did you corrupt the relic?”

Akane’s face creased into a pleased smile, her unblinking eyes gleaming with mischief. “The people of Hansha cannot grow unless challenged, can they?”

“But our village took you in, raised you,” Kenji pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion.

“Stupid child. They feared me. They intended to burn me at the stake.”

“They never intended to—“

“Silence!” Akane’s voice rang out like a thunderbolt, the force of it nearly knocking Kenji off his feet.

But Kenji stepped forward again, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Even if what you say were true,” he said, “would they have been wrong to do so?”

Akane’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “They feared me. The same could happen to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just like me, Kenji.”

“So, you know my name.”

Akane’s voice dropped to a whisper that seemed to carry the weight of centuries. “And I know of your mystic powers, powers that come from the very same source as mine.”

Kenji charged forward and swiped the dagger at her throat. But Akane was ready for him, backing away just in time to avoid the blade. With a wave of her gohei, Kenji felt his legs go weak and he fell to the ground, his dagger clanging to the floor beside him.

Akane felt her neck, her hand trembling. She watched Kenji struggle with a mixture of amusement and something else, something darker and far more dangerous.

Kenji grunted. “I felt sorry for you, growing up as an orphan, with so many expectations heaped upon you, expectations and responsibilities you never asked for.”

“Then why attack me, boy?” Akane asked, her tone filled with a cruel, mocking curiosity.

“Because you’re a demon.”

Akane let out a soft, amused chuckle. “What gave me away?”

“You haven’t blinked a single time since you revealed yourself,” Kenji pointed out. “You’ve been in isolation far too long. So long, you’ve forgotten how to be human.”

“Hmph,” Akane scoffed, waving a paper fan to cover her lips. “You’re clever, I’ll give you that. But dealing with you was child’s play. It seems you have chosen death, Kenji. What a pity.”

As the demon approached, the faces of all the townspeople Kenji had ever known flashed through his mind – his mother, his father, the many children of the village, Hana and her brother, even the council. Kenji knew he had to keep talking, keep showing her he wasn’t afraid. “Where’s your rabbit?”

Akane blinked in surprise, as if she had forgotten something important. “You are truly blessed by the spirits, Kenji,” she said, her voice a mixture of admiration and unease. “Most mortals cannot see my familiar. My Tsukuyomi is always nearby, protecting this shrine. She took a liking to you, which is why you’re not dead yet.”

Kenji needed to buy himself more time to find a way to escape. “It must get lonely here in the mountains,” he said, doing his best to fake remorse.

But Akane ignored the question. “You’re more powerful than I thought. Perhaps I’ll find use for you, yet.”

“I’m not interested,” growled Kenji.

“Precisely why I want you. And then we’ll see how … lonely my nights become.”

She threw open the paper fan and performed an Urayasu dance, her movements graceful and precise as if she were a clockwork toy moving to the sound of silence. Kenji could only flail on the ground in response, realizing with mounting horror that there was no hope of escape.

Akane’s laughter rang out, a sound that chilled him to the bone as she traced the contours of his young face with her gohei. “What fun it will be to mold you, my pet,” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear.

“The difference between us,” he strained to say as he struggled to stand, “is I use my powers for good.”

Akane smirked, her eyes glinting with a malevolent light. “Not for long, my dear,” she purred, her words dripping with dark promise. “Not for long.”

Suddenly, a shadow cast itself long across the cave from outside. Hana stood at the entrance, fear filling her face. “Kenji? What’s going on? Who is this person?”

“No,” cried Kenji, “run or you’ll die!”

Hana hesitated. “I’m sorry, Kenji. I couldn’t let you come here alone. I tried to convince Akito, but he was still so afraid.”

The tea leaves and crow’s caw flashed in his mind. If those omens were meant for Hana, Kenji would never forgive himself.

Akane smiled. “My precious Tsukuyomi.”

The large white rabbit hopped in next to Hana. “This girl cannot see or hear me, but I was able to lead her here. Is Kenji going to live with us now-pyon?”

Hana held up her brother’s bokuto, her grasp trembling. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but let him go,” she said. “Please.”

Akane chuckled darkly. “Oh Hana, you’re just adorable, aren’t you? Do you like this boy?”

Hana’s face flushed crimson. “Sh-shut up.”

“It’s true-pyon,” said Tsukuyomi, her black eyes gleaming with mischief. “I can sense many strong emotions between them.”

Kenji continued his struggle against the invisible bonds. “Akane, listen to me,” he pleaded. “If you let her go, I’ll become your servant.”

She smirked, amused by his desperate attempt. “You think you have any say in the matter, boy? Your fate is already sealed.”

“Hana, you have to run,” Kenji begged, his voice cracking with urgency, “or we’ll both die.”

Hana took a few steps back as if her mind were reeling with fear and confusion.

Akane’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’m afraid you’re not leaving this cave alive, girl,” she warned, voice dripping with venom. “But before you die, I want to tell you a terrible secret.”

“T-terrible secret?” Hana swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest.

The demonic woman laughed, a chilling sound that echoed off the cave walls. “I’m the one who compelled Akito to steal the Omotenashi in the first place.”

Before Hana could react, Akane pointed her gohei at the helpless girl and fire erupted from its tip, filling the cavern with blinding heat.

“No!” cried Kenji, still unable to move, as he watched the flames launch toward where Hana stood.

But in that moment, someone else leapt in front of the fire with a ferocious yell, shielding Hana from the incredible heat.

When the flames subsided, Akito lay motionless over Hana, his back a mass of charred flesh and smoldering embers.

Akane’s face twisted to a mask of fury. “Finally found your bravery, have you?” she spat.

Akito pushed himself up, the bokuto now firmly within his strong hands. “You will not touch her, witch,” he roared, his eyes blazing with determination. He charged at Akane, the bokuto a blur of motion as he unleashed a flurry of strikes.

Akane caught the wooden sword with her bare hand, glowing with demonic energy. “You’re strong, boy,” she sneered. “But not strong enough.” She pointed her gohei and another inferno erupted, engulfing Akito in its fiery embrace. He cried out in pain, but did not falter.

Hana fell to her knees. “M-my brother!”

With a desperate lunge, Akito tackled the demon witch, Akane’s face a mix of shock and disbelief as she fell to the ground with him. He pinned her down with all his might and soon she was caught in the same fire of her own creation, screaming in terror along with him.

The magic holding Kenji had suddenly broken, and so many other spells with it; Countless hexes that had been targeted at the village, and an obscura spell designed to hide the Omotenashi. Kenji sprung to action, grabbing hold of a discarded robe to wrap Akito and throw him to the ground.

As the flames subsided, Hana rushed to Akito's side, tears streaming down her face.
“Akito! Wake up, please,” she begged, shaking him gently.

But as the demon woman’s bloodcurdling screams fell to silence, Akito, too, took his last breath.

Kenji looked to Hana with saddened eyes. He couldn’t comprehend the immense willpower and strength Akito must have mustered to hold Akane in those final moments. The tea leaves, the cawing crows, even the spider lilies. They were all signs meant for him.

“He … must have followed me. He—” Hana’s eyes went wide with disbelief.

Kenji held her close, offering what little comfort he could. “It’s over,” he whispered. “Akito saved us. The demon is gone, but at such a terrible cost.”

All the while, Kenji stayed wary of the rabbit who simply stared in stunned silence as the fires consumed the remains of her former master.

With the smoke building, Kenji gently released Hana to smother what was left of the demon’s remains, and his gaze drew again to the sword resting on the altar. Though the obscura had been lifted, the blade still bore its sinister curse.

He studied the rabbit intently, mind racing with possibilities.

Tsukuyomi broke the silence. “Pyon… This was an unexpected turn of events,” she remarked, her voice tinged with intrigue.

Kenji furrowed his brow. “Wh-why didn’t you disappear? You were Akane’s familiar, were you not?”

Tsukuyomi scratched behind her ear. “Indeed, I was Akane’s companion, but she didn’t conjure me. I was born as a consequence of the curse placed upon that very sword-pyon.”

Hope surged through Kenji’s veins. “So you know how to break it?”

The giant rabbit nodded sagely. “I must confess, I am impressed by the courage of your people-pyon. Akane’s tales of your village were filled with lies, it seems. Kenji, retrieve the sword from the altar.”

Hana looked confused.

“There’s a spirit here,” explained Kenji. “A spirit who may be able to break the curse.”

As Hana gave an uncertain nod, Kenji approached the altar. Hesitation gripped him as he reached for the blade. Dark energies emanated from the sword, sending shivers down his spine. “Is this some sort of trap?”

“The blade may be dangerous for human hands in its current state, but fret not-pyon. We shall break the curse soon enough,” Tsukuyomi reassured him. “Please, take the blade.”

Sensing no malice, Kenji grasped the sacred sword. The dark forces seeped into his palm causing instant agony. He gritted his teeth, determined to endure the pain for the sake of his village.

The rabbit nodded, her black eyes gleaming with ancient wisdom. “Hana has a crucial role to play in this as well. She must retrieve the hishaku to gather spring water.”

Kenji nodded in understanding, gently guiding Hana through the necessary steps. She left the cave, clutching the long-handled ladle.

“Pyon. When Hana returns,” the rabbit continued, “she should pour the water she retrieved upon Akito’s ashes.”

Kenji’s brow furrowed. “The pain… it’s spreading to my arm now.”

Tsukuyomi’s expression remained solemn. “That is to be expected, Kenji. Listen closely-pyon. You must use that blade to strike me down.”

Kenji recoiled. “What?”

“If you do, it will remove the curse from the sword-pyon, flipping its nature from night to day.”

“But…”

“Don’t concern yourself with me-pyon,” the rabbit reassured him. “I will return in another life. But do it quickly, so that Hana may be spared any further trauma.”

Kenji hardened his face as he reluctantly raised the cursed sword. With a swift motion, he brought it down upon Tsukuyomi, spilling the rabbit’s crimson blood upon the stone. The blade’s dark energies dissipated, leaving Kenji’s arm free of pain. The treasure in his hands glowed with a renewed brilliance.

Hana returned to the cave, her face pale as she clutched the hishaku, now full of water. The sight of blood splattered across the stone floor and the lifeless body of the white rabbit did not seem to bother her. But Kenji noted she could see Tsukuyomi, whereas before she could not.

Then she turned her attention to the sword. Once dark and corrupted, it now glowed with an inner light, its surface pristine and its edge sharp as ever.

“Kenji,“ she whispered, “Does that mean…?”

He gave a simple nod.

Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. She set aside the hishaku and embraced him. “I’m so relieved.”

In time, Kenji lifted the hishaku and guided her hands to hold it. “Let’s do this together.”

She nodded.

As they approached the ashen remains of Akito’s body, Kenji could feel her hands tremble in his. They said a prayer and poured the water, watching as the ashes began to glow with an otherworldly light. As the water seeped through, the nearby bokuto shimmered with a brilliant inner light.

“It’s a holy relic,” Hana breathed.

“The relic of Akito,” Kenji affirmed.

Hana looked at Kenji through her tears. “It seems Akito’s dream came true.”

Kenji smiled softly and nodded. “We will place it in the shrine beside the Omotenashi, and ensure it never falls into the wrong hands.”

They left the cave, each carrying a sacred treasure. But as they passed the hot spring, Kenji paused.

“What is it?” Hana asked.

Kenji stole a glance at the cave entrance, his mind processing the events that had just transpired. He felt like there was one last piece of the puzzle yet to be uncovered.

As he returned to the cave, Hana followed close behind, her steps resolute despite the tears that still glistened in her eyes. Kenji knelt to retrieve the hishaku, his movements deliberate and purposeful as he retrieved more water.

Hana joined Kenji’s side as he approached Tsukuyomi’s remains. She gave a slight nod, acknowledging the gravity of the moment.

Together, they poured the sacred water over the rabbit’s lifeless form. As it made contact, a strange, ethereal shimmer began to emanate, growing brighter and more vivid with each passing moment.

From the heart of the glowing remains, something began to take shape – a furry paw, solidifying in the light.

“The rabbit was a hero for our village, too,” Hana whispered, her voice filled with reverence.

Kenji cradled the rabbit’s foot in his hands with the solemn realization that these three treasures represented the unbreakable spirit of their people, a legacy to be remembered for generations to come.

Japanese-to-English Translation Guide (words listed in order of appearance)

Hansha: The “Village of Reflection”.
Omotenashi-no-Tsurugi: The “Sword of Charity”.
Bokuto: A simple wooden practice sword.
Temizu: A sacred pure water “hand-washing station”, found at shrines.
Hojicha: A type of green tea.
Akai Kiri: “Red Fog Mountain”.
Tengu Yamabushi: A type of yokai (spirit) in priest robes, identifiable by its mischievous red face and abnormally long nose. They are typically found in the mountains and considered both powerful and dangerous.
Omamori: A good luck amulet. Bells are normally used on mountain hikes to scare away bears and spirits, but Kenji didn’t wish to scare away the spirits during his trek.
Haori: A loose jacket-like garment, often worn by Shinto priests. Typically black. Kenji’s is white.
Hakama: Formal pleated shorts, a part of a Shinto priest’s attire.
Kami: Japanese gods.
Kakushoku: The “Path of Each Color”.
Miko: A shrine maiden or priestess.
Maetengan: A miko’s ceremonial crown.
Gehobako: A miko’s “occult box”, where she would keep her ritual components.
Sakura: The cherry blossom tree, which only blooms in the spring.
Pyon: A Japanese onomatopoeia for a “hopping” sound.
Gohei: A miko’s wand. Typically white. Akane’s is black.
Urayasu: The “Urayasu no Mai” is a calming, elegant dance performed regionally by miko while holding a paper hand fan. It is considered a dance of peace.
Tsukuyomi: Akane’s pet rabbit is named after “Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto” (the kami of the moon). This is because rabbits and the moon are closely related in Japanese mythology. Tsukuyomi is clever and dual-natured, and it’s hinted the rabbit very well may be a manifestation of Tsukuyomi herself.
Hishaku: A scoop with a long handle meant for retrieving water, traditionally made of wood and a dried gourd, used for ceremonial purposes.

Thank you for reading! Here’s another tale to try, this time with a more European flavor: