Jusetsu asked Tankai to find her a piece of wood, and then she borrowed a dirk from Onkei.
“What are you doing?” the latter asked as she went to take it from him.
“I’m going to whittle this into a person-shaped doll,” Jusetsu explained.
Onkei withdrew the dirk that he was just about to pass to her. “Let me do that. You want the wood to be carved into the shape of a person, right?”
“Wait, I’ll do it…”
“You can’t. Everybody has their strengths and weaknesses.”
Jusetsu said nothing in return. He was right—she was not particularly good with her hands. Reluctantly, Jusetsu decided to leave the task to Onkei. It didn’t actually matter who carved the doll, as long as it was in the shape of a person.
He whittled the thin piece of wood into a small human shape, then inked Shiki’s name on it. Jusetsu had found some of Shiki’s hair on his bed, and as soon as she wrapped it around the doll, heat began to gather in the palm of her hand. Pale red petals began to appear one after another, eventually forming a flower. She blew on it, and the petals scattered like shattered glass, falling down onto the doll. The doll trembled gently as it changed form, alternating between growing and shrinking. It eventually turned black in color and started to transform into a bird—a raven covered in black feathers. After giving its body a violent shake, it flapped its wings and flew away.
The raven soared out of the window. Jusetsu and her companions chased after it.
Is it taking us to the mountains?
The raven flew further and further inland, in the opposite direction from the port—more specifically, toward the mountains. The majority of the island’s residents were fishermen and sea merchants who, due to the nature of their job, lived close to the water. As a result, the mountainous areas were sparsely populated—and yet for some strange reason, there were still roads there. At first Jusetsu wasn’t sure why that was, but the stone pits the group began to pass by every now and then soon made it clear. It seemed that stone was quarried from these pits, cut into smaller pieces, and then transported to the harbor. Stonemasons were busily toiling away in some places, but other pits appeared to have already been depleted and abandoned.
The raven gradually made its way further and further into the heart of the mountains, where there were no longer any roads to tread. The terrain underfoot was rocky, and it was easy to fall if you weren’t careful. The raven wove between the trees, eventually guiding the group to the top of a cliff where an open expanse stretched out in front of them. Judging from the mountains beyond, they appeared to be on the edge of some kind of gorge. The bird dove into it and disappeared from sight. Jusetsu placed her hands on the ground and attempted to peer into the gorge, but Onkei and Tankai stopped her.
Tankai got down on his belly and peered down himself.
“Oh. This valley is deep, but there’s a small ledge sticking out directly below us. There are some people there—two men. One of them is that Reiko guy, and the other one… Hakurai, wasn’t it? He has a cloth over one of his eyes.”
“What seems to be happening?”
“It looks like they’re talking to one another, but I’d be lying if I told you it looks like a harmonious exchange…not that I can see them very clearly from up here.”
“Do you think we can get down?”
Tankai looked around, then surveyed his surroundings. “It should be doable, as long as we go all the way around,” he said, pointing his finger to the side. “It’ll be a roundabout way of getting there though.”
He was pointing toward a gentle slope covered in trees.
“In that case, let’s hurry.”
With Tankai taking the lead, Jusetsu began to descend down the uneven, sloping ground one step at a time.
Shiki had figured out where Hakurai had gone. After asking the island’s residents if they’d seen anybody that fit his description, he’d managed to work out that the man was in the mountains. Hakurai had a unique way of dressing, which meant that far more people remembered him than Shiki had originally anticipated.
Still, he didn’t know why he’d headed for the mountains.
If he was planning on leaving the island, he would have gone toward the port and waited for boats to start leaving again. Was this a sign that he’d had no intention of fleeing the island yet, regardless of what happened with an eruption? Or was there something specific that he wanted to do out there?
Shiki passed the remains of the old stone pits, then entered the forest that lay ahead. The reddish-brown ground was covered in cinder stones with rock surfaces peeking through in places, hinting that there may have been large rocks buried underneath. Stones of varying sizes were everywhere on the ground. It was easy to lose your footing here, and walking was a struggle.
Shiki had spent his entire career traveling from region to region, but he’d never seen mountains like these before. They were nothing like Do Province’s rugged peaks or Ga Province’s picturesque foothills.
He huffed and puffed as he made his way to the top of the slope, and he realized he was able to see so much more. The sky stretched out above him, and a gorge came into view down below. It was unfortunately cloudy, but the cold breeze cooled him off. He wiped the sweat from the back of his neck and took a swig of water from the bamboo tube that an islander had given him on his way, warning him that it’d be essential for his mountain climb. He stuffed some dried jujube—another gift from an islander—into his mouth and looked left and right. The terrain here was too hard for anyone to have left footprints behind them.
Which way could Hakurai have headed?
Shiki hunched down, straining his eyes in an intense effort to scour the area for any trace of the man. Suddenly, however, he noticed that some young branches appeared to have been cut away from some overgrown trees. It was as if someone had cleared them away to make it easier to walk past.
This isn’t necessarily a sign that Hakurai was here, but still…
Heading in that direction seemed as good an idea as any, so he decided to stride ahead. Although the trees obstructed his view, the slope did seem to curve around toward the gorge. Grabbing hold of tree trunks and branches for support, he carefully made his way down the incline.
A fairly open plateau behind the branches came into view, and there was clearly a person there, crouching down on the ground.
Taken aback, Shiki stopped in his tracks. He could only see the person’s back, but it was undoubtedly Hakurai. He appeared to be picking plants growing on the plateau, probably ones with medicinal properties. Hakurai didn’t seem to have noticed Shiki.
Shiki’s breathing was strained. He was about to take a step forward, but he sensed someone pulling at his sleeve. He turned back around.
It was Shomei, looking just like she had when she was alive. Her pale yellow jacket with its intricate flower pattern was unmistakable. He’d seen her hand pulling at his sleeve many times before, but he had never seen her appear with her full human body. She looked exactly how Shiki remembered her—unassumingly beautiful with a forlorn look in her eyes. This was absolutely the Shomei he’d known so well.
“Sho… Shomei…”
His voice was hoarse and only vaguely audible. He felt like he was bursting with things he wanted to say, yet not a word left his lips. Shiki fell to his knees.
Shomei gazed at him and gently shook her head. She looked apprehensive…or rather, she looked sad.
Did she come all this way to stop me? Shiki wondered.
Visions of Shomei’s face after she had died merged with the version of her that was standing in front of him. The woman had been mercilessly beaten to death. Her thin body was covered in bruises, her cheeks were drained of color, and teardrops had stained her closed eyelids. As his memories of his sister, dead, became clearer and clearer, Shiki fell flat on the ground. The reddish-brown volcanic sediment there was so powdery that it easily disintegrated in his grip. As red powder seeped through his fingers, it almost looked like he was bleeding.
When he looked up, he found that Shomei was giving him a faint smile—just like she used to when she was still alive. It was a slightly troubled, helpless smile. As he gazed up at her, Koshun’s words came flooding back.
“Your hatred won’t go away if its target isn’t around anymore. The buried embers carry on, burning inside your empty heart forever.”
The flames had been burning inside Shiki’s heart for so long. He wanted to bring Hakurai to his knees, humiliate him, and drench him in blood. That was what those flames of hatred were demanding of him.
Shomei said nothing—she just smiled at Shiki. He lifted himself back up, staggered to his feet, and then began to march in Hakurai’s direction.
The sound of his footsteps prompted Hakurai to look around, and looking distrustful, he stood up. That was when Shiki first noticed that Hakurai was holding a peculiar black sword in one of his hands.
“You’re…”
“I’m Reiko Shiki. I am the former moderation vice envoy from Ga Province—but I was born in Reki Province, the home of the True Teachings of the Moon.”
Hakurai’s face remained unchanged, even at the mention of the religious organization that he used to be part of—and the same one that formed the basis for the Eight True Teachings, the religion Hakurai had gone on to create in Ga Province.
“And?” said Hakurai, his voice devoid of emotion. “What do you want from me?”
“My younger sister was beaten to death with a stick by her fiancé’s family, who were all followers of the True Teachings of the Moon. I doubt you remember it, but it was you that convinced them to convert to the religion. You convinced them that beating a human who’d been possessed by evil would cure them.”