Under the light of the moon, the merfolk woman sang, as if yearning for the past. No, not “as if.” She most certainly was.
The song Mizuyo was singing was not about the distant past, but about warriors who fought the oni a mere fifty years ago. While fifty years was a generation or two by human standards, it was very different from her perspective.
Long ago, it seemed that there were a number of merfolk children who approached the land of the oni, knowing it was off-limits. The curiosity of the mischievous children occasionally overruled any fear they might have felt. Adults telling them not to go somewhere made them want to visit it all the more. It seemed merfolk children weren’t all that different from human children in that regard.
Breaking this particular rule shouldn’t have been much of a problem. The oni had few ways to capture merfolk who stayed in the water, and the children had no intention of going up on land. They’d go out there, fulfill the terms of the dare, and sneak quietly home. When they became adults, they’d learn of the brutality that was occurring on land. If they helped with transporting goods and personnel for the war, they would learn the sadness of having their human and skyfolk friends never come home. Again, and again, and again.
But unfortunately, this group of children were unlucky. Not only did they encounter an oni on their little adventure, it was one of the tattooed oni, the practitioners of the Wicked Arts. The children were captured by the oni’s spells and brought back to their fortress.
I suspected the Wicked Arts the oni used were the same as the magic that I knew. Oni were descended from demons, people who used mana to transform their bodies. The demons themselves would have likely referred to it as an “evolution,” but either way, they would excel at the use of mana. These Wicked Arts had to at least be related to magic in some way. That meant the tattoos the oni wore might have been similar to the engravings Kawshman and I put on weapons, or the patterns that sages in the Ancient Gold Empire drew on their paper talismans.
At any rate, when the merfolk discovered that the children who had disappeared had been captured by oni, they immediately panicked. Even if they weren’t immediately killed and eaten by the oni, if they were kept out of the water for too long, they would die anyway.
As I mentioned before about the history of Fusou, the bonds between merfolk were incredibly strong. That went even more so for their children. However, they had no way to assault the oni fortress on their own, and an attack by humans or skyfolk would result in countless casualties. No matter how much they wanted to save the children, they couldn’t push the price of their own failure onto their land- and sky-based brethren.
The merfolk at large had come to an impasse, but there was one who, unable to bear the loss of her younger brother, went to ask for help and approached a particularly skilled human warrior.
After hearing her story, the warrior replied, “Leave it to me. I’ll save your brother.”
Without the slightest trace of hesitation, the warrior used his influence to gather allies. The warrior was quite famous for his exploits on the front lines, and had just happened to meet the merfolk woman while fishing on one of his rare breaks. Though they hadn’t been saved yet, relief at finding help as well as guilt at the danger she was putting the humans in brought the merfolk woman to tears.
“Hey, killing oni is our job. No need for you to be upset about it. More importantly, please get boats for us.”
With a role in the plan given to her, the merfolk woman smiled.
Under cover of darkness, the band of human warriors struck the oni fortress from the sea. Unable to watch the fight herself, the merfolk woman could do nothing but pray for the safety of the warriors and the children they sought to save. However, as brutal as the fighting must have been, eventually the fortress was in flames, and the warriors returned to the sea with the children in tow.
Each and every one of the children had made it back safely...but the same could not be said for the human warriors. Yet not one of them found fault with the merfolk woman or the children, only celebrating along with her for their safe return.
“Scolding kids isn’t part of our job. Make sure their parents give ’em an earful,” they laughed.
The humans bravely fought and died. Even if they didn’t fall in battle, their life spans were terribly short compared to the merfolk, who at times felt like the members of this race were born one day and then gone the next.
But despite that, this merfolk woman took a deep interest in them. Fighting bravely, strong enough to bear their losses with a smile, these humans were so kind. Strangely enough, the relationship between the merfolk woman and the famous warrior didn’t end there.
I was quite sure it was the tale of Mizuyo and Old Gon. As Mizuyo’s story continued, Old Gon sat a distance away, drinking in the moonlight. Why had Mizuyo told me this story?
I was sure it was something she wanted me to know. As someone who would live even longer than her, she must have wanted me to know at least a little of what kind of man he was.
I understood how she felt quite well. As thanks for all she had taught me, I would engrave this story deep in my heart as well: the story of the great hero she loved so much.