Red Winter (The Red Winter Trilogy Book 1) by Annette Marie
Emi winced again.
“You can’t touch guys? Seriously? So, wait—you’ve never been kissed then, have you?”
Not knowing how to get out of this conversation, Emi shook her head. Obviously she’d never been kissed. Innocent or necessary contact—like Katsuo catching her—was fine. It wasn’t that men could contaminate her with no more than a brief, harmless touch, but the rule was still necessary to protect her purity.
Rina let out a peal of laughter. “I can’t believe it. You’re, what, eighteen? And you’ve never even kissed a guy!”
Irritation simmered beneath Emi’s discomfort. The necessary restrictions, and sacrifices, required of the kamigakari weren’t a joke to be laughed at.
Emi gave a small bow. “Thank you for showing me the stable. I should return to the house. I haven’t completed my morning meditation yet.”
“Sorry, sorry!” Rina chirped, not sounding remotely apologetic. “I get carried away sometimes. Let’s head back.” She skipped a few steps, then waited for Emi and Yui to catch up. “The envoy was super insistent that you stay within the grounds unless you had both sohei with you. Are you really in danger whenever you’re not on sacred ground?”
“It’s just a precaution,” Emi explained. Clearly, the questions wouldn’t stop until she parted company with Rina. “Sohei escorted me to and from school every day until I graduated this past summer, and we never had any trouble.”
“But you were attacked by a yokai once, right?” Rina asked. “A few years ago, in the park outside the Shion Shrine. A miko died, right? What did the yokai look like?”
Her last question came out in hushed tones of morbid curiosity.
Emi stopped in the middle of the path, drawing herself up and clenching her trembling hands.
“Miko Rina,” she said, summoning as commanding a tone as she could. “An innocent girl died in that attack. Please show respect for a lost life. She was only fifteen, and she died tragically and needlessly. I ask that you wish for her soul to find peace and her family to find comfort instead of filling your thoughts with foul details about the manner of her death.”
Yui obediently clasped her hands in a prayer for the deceased, but Rina didn’t move. Her smile was nowhere in sight as she stared back at Emi, eyes narrowed and hard. Emi held her stare until the girl finally dropped her gaze.
Without another word, Emi strode away from them, back toward the house. She held her composure in an iron fist, unwilling to let a single crack appear. In her head, she heard Hana’s last scream over and over until she could hear nothing else.
The yokai might have killed Hana, but Emi’s weakness, her stupidity and selfishness, were the true reasons her best friend was gone forever.
Chapter 4
In the seclusion of her room, Emi struggled to find the inner tranquility to resume her meditation. At least it was quiet. Minoru and Katsuo had gone off somewhere; inside the borders of the shrine grounds, they didn’t have much to do except patrol the area and ensure the ofuda talismans and other protective enchantments were fully functional. Short of catastrophe, no yokai—at least none with ill intent—could enter the shrine grounds.
She attempted to concentrate but her eyes popped open against her will. She slammed them shut again and ground her teeth. Rina’s voice kept echoing in her ears. Tact definitely wasn’t the girl’s strong suit. All those questions, as though Emi was just some exciting bit of gossip instead of a real person with feelings.
Her eyelids lifted again and she found herself staring at the floor. Maybe Rina hadn’t been that far off. A kamigakari was a kamigakari first and a person second. Emi’s feelings were never taken into consideration. Not when she’d been taken from her home at eight years old and put into training at the Shion Shrine. Not when she’d been sent to a private, all-girls school and forbidden from making friends outside the shrine. Not when she’d been sent to live at different shrines after the yokai attack in Shion.
If she were honest with herself, she had to admit that no one really cared about her feelings. They tried to accommodate her, but they didn’t care. If they had to chop off her hands to keep her from failing as a kamigakari, they would do it without a thought to her well-being. Guji Ishida—the head kannushi in Shion and leader of all shrines dedicated to Amaterasu’s worship—made every decision about her future, and he never consulted her on any of it.
Giving up on meditation, Emi pulled her wooden box out of her luggage and retrieved her journal. The bookmark hung out where she’d written in it last night, noting her experiences of the day and her thoughts about the new shrine. She’d been reasonably careful not to include anything that could get her into serious trouble, but otherwise, she hadn’t held back her feelings. Nanako would not be pleased if she ever got her hands on the journal.
Letting out a long breath, Emi flipped through the pages, stopping on one with a photo taped to it. Her smiling face, three years younger, looked back at her. A beautiful kimono in every shade of purple swirled around her and her hair flew out behind her in the wind. Another girl, dressed in the simple miko uniform, hung off her arm, laughing so hard she could hardly stand.
Hana was so young. Flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes made her rather plain features look vibrant and lovely. Few people would have noticed the other girl beside Emi. A bit too tall, limbs thin and lanky, face just a bit too wide, eyes close together. But Emi knew the wonderful person within, Hana’s kindness and generosity. Emi might have the more traditional beauty—a perfect oval face, large eyes, a small mouth with full lips—but she thought Hana had been the more beautiful person.
Emi touched the edge of the photo. Hana had died three days later.
Fingers trembling, she flipped through several pages. Written over and over in her neat handwriting, Katsuo’s name jumped out at her. With each glimpse of his name, her stomach clenched a little tighter.
I saw Katsuo in training today with the other sohei. He smiled at me.
I spoke to Katsuo for the first time. He wished me a good morning. I hope he didn’t see me blush. He’s so handsome. Is it weird that I want to touch his hair?
I think Katsuo is the best swordsman of his class. Hana laughed at me when I told her. She asked how I could tell when I barely know the hilt from the blade.
I know I’m not supposed to be thinking about boys, but I can’t keep Katsuo out of my head. I hardly know him, but still … I keep wondering. What if I wasn’t the kamigakari? What if I could really talk to him? What if I could touch him? What if I could kiss him?
I’m not supposed to think about that stuff, but I can’t stop myself. Hana says it’s just a crush and it’ll go away if I avoid him.
Katsuo talked to me today. He called me “my lady” and I asked him to call me Emi. I’m so embarrassed. I shouldn’t have done that, but I don’t want to be “the lady” to him. I want him to see ME, to see Emi. Not just the kamigakari everyone else sees.
Under different circumstances, the foolish, immature scribbles of her hormonal fifteen-year-old self would have had her rolling her eyes. Instead, she swallowed the urge to be sick and shakily turned the page.
Hana finally sat me down and gave me a lecture about how I’m putting my whole future at risk for a stupid crush. She said I’m just bored, and obsessing about Katsuo is more interesting than meditation and tea ceremony practice.
She’s right. I’m being an idiot. I can never be with Katsuo and thinking about him is dangerous. It’s just so hard.
This afternoon, I heard him and the other sohei talking. They’re going to the park tomorrow to have a mock battle. It sounds really exciting. I convinced Hana that we should go too, as my final Katsuo-watching send-off, and then I’ll stop. We’ll have to sneak out, but it’s not far, just a mile or two. I think she only agreed so she can hold it over my head later.
Her gaze reluctantly turned to the opposite page. It was blank except for the date: August 25th. Her hand had trembled so badly as she wrote it that the letters were almost i
She snapped the journal shut. Stuffing it back into the wooden box, she tossed the whole thing into her bag and wiped the tears from her face. If she wasn’t even going to try to meditate, she should at least pray. She glanced at the small shrine in the corner of the room—the first thing she’d set up after unpacking her clothes—but headed for the door instead. She needed fresh air and the calming ritual of the full shrine to clear her thoughts.
This time, she crossed the footbridge without incident—excluding some minor hyperventilation. A few townspeople were scattered around the shrine: a middle-aged couple bowed in prayer, an elderly woman sitting on the bench beneath the sacred tree, and a young businessman bent over the table in front of the stand where worshippers could write out a wish or prayer on a small wooden plaque and hang it for the kami’s viewing pleasure.
Emi went straight to the water fountain to cleanse herself. As she finished the washing ritual and replaced the ladle, someone joined her at the basin.
“Hey. Remember me?”
Emi looked around, surprised to see the schoolgirl from last night—the taller one who’d offered her free ice cream. Today, she wore a long green sweater and black leggings, her hair twisted into a messy bun. Her lack of uniform clued Emi in to the day of the week. It was Saturday. That explained why Rina and Yui had been at the shrine early that morning. On weekdays, they would only be around for a few hours each evening.
The girl smiled shyly and Emi returned it. Tipping her head toward the shrine, Emi asked, “Back to pray?”
“Um … yeah.” The girl quickly turned to the basin to wash.
Emi flinched when the girl washed her hands in the wrong order—bad luck—but didn’t say anything. Together they walked to the main hall, passing the older couple on their way to the torii.
Allowing the girl her privacy, Emi focused on her own prayer—nothing specific, just a general wish for strength and courage. And maybe some wisdom. Wisdom was always good.
When Emi bowed to complete her worship, the girl copied her immediately, obviously just waiting for Emi to finish. They moved away from the shrine as the businessman came to take their place. Expecting the girl to follow her, Emi headed for the sacred tree—the ancient oak that dominated the shrine courtyard—and sat on the bench on the opposite side of the elderly lady, who was either praying or napping.
Tugging nervously on her ponytail, the girl dropped down beside Emi.
“I’m Miyako,” she blurted. “Can I ask you a few questions?”
“Of course,” Emi said. “My name is Emi.”
She watched the pond as she patiently waited for Miyako to speak. Younger girls often found it easier to approach a miko closer to their age rather than an intimidating old kannushi, so it wasn’t the first time Emi had done this.
Miyako fidgeted, then leaned toward Emi and lowered her voice. “Are the kami really real?”
Almost every miko went through a phase of doubt, wondering if the kami existed, but Emi never had. Her parents had been devout believers, and by the time she was old enough to question anything, she’d been marked as the kamigakari. Besides, how could she doubt when she sometimes felt Amaterasu’s presence fill her when she prayed? The kami’s strange warning flashed through her memory but she pushed it aside.
“Even though most of us will never see a single sign of their presence,” Emi answered, “they are as real as the warmth of the sun or the cold of winter.”
“And they answer prayers?”
“Sometimes … in certain ways. Will a lightning bolt strike down your enemy if you pray for his death? Will you win the lottery just because you asked? No to both. The kami don’t indulge our whims. But if you pray for strength or wisdom or luck, the kami might just give you a nudge in the right direction. If you offend them, they might give you a nudge in the opposite direction.”
Miyako’s forehead wrinkled. “How can you be sure? Have you ever had a kami answer your prayer?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Huh.” Miyako, politely, did not ask what that prayer had been. “You mentioned another kind of kami …”
Emi leaned back, getting comfortable on the bench. “There are two kinds of spiritual entities: the kami and the yokai. The kami reside in the heavenly realm, separate from our own. The most powerful of the kami are called the Amatsukami. The four of them rule the heavens and the other kami.
“This shrine is dedicated to Amaterasu, the Amatsukami of the Wind. The others are Izanagi of the Sky, the ultimate ruler of the kami; his sister Izanami of the Earth; and Tsukiyomi of the Water, brother to Amaterasu.”
“Earth and sky, wind and water,” Miyako murmured. “What about yokai? They’re like demons, aren’t they? Everyone knows the children’s stories about trickster tanuki or kappa drowning kids.”
Emi flinched at the mention of kappa. “Yokai are spirits, not demons. They are the kami of the earthly realm. Because we directly share our world with them, you’re more likely to run afoul of a yokai than a kami, hence the stories.” Well-deserved stories, in her opinion.
Yokai shared the world of humans, living partly within it and partly within their own spiritual realm. Like the kami, they were ruled by their four most powerful individuals, the Kunitsukami. Sarutahiko of the Mountain was their leader, and Uzume of the Wood was his wife. Susano of the Storm and Inari of the Fire completed the four.
Kami could channel their power to earth through a sacred object—a shintai—or use a mortal human as the receptacle of their power, but yokai needed no such tools. Somewhere, the Kunitsukami walked upon the same earth and breathed the same air as she did. It was a somewhat ominous thought.
Miyako tapped one finger against her lips. “You don’t like yokai, do you?”
Annoyed at her own transparency, Emi shook her head.
“Kami and yokai are onmyo to each other,” she explained, referring to the yin-and-yang concept of opposites balancing—heaven and earth, darkness and light, good and evil. Even the elements were balanced. The Amatsukami balanced one another as well as the Kunitsukami, keeping the world in harmony. “They are the same yet opposite, and neither is better or worse. But I … had a bad encounter.”
“Oh, no.” The girl’s expression softened. “What happened?”
The genuine concern and sympathy in her eyes breached Emi’s defenses in a way Rina’s overeager curiosity never could. Emi didn’t want to share such a personal and terrible experience with a stranger, but the memory, so close to the surface since arriving here, was like a toxin in her blood. Maybe talking about it would help. Who else could she talk to? A stranger was better than someone she would have to see every day for the next two months.
“A few years ago, my best friend and I were walking in the park,” she half mumbled. Walking in the park. The way she’d said it made it sound so simple, so easy, but she didn’t want to mention the slow, nerve-racking process of sneaking out of the shrine grounds to get to the park. “We were following some boys. I—I had a crush on one of them. We were trying to stay out of sight and I let the boys get too far ahead. We got lost.
“I don’t remember exactly why I got scared, but I could feel my skin prickling and my hair standing on end.” Emi stared at the pond without seeing it. “Something was watching us. I grabbed Hana’s hand and we started running back. We found the trail and ran as fast as we could. The shrine grounds were just ahead. I could see the bridge across the creek. The torii was just on the other side.”
The deep green shadows of the late summer forest filled her mind’s eye. The recent rains had swollen the creek and the murky water was rushing beneath the bridge.
“I ran ahead onto the bridge. Hana was right behind me, but she slipped in the mud in front of the bridge. She fell and her feet splashed into the water. Just her feet. I stopped and turned to go help her up.
“Something in the water grabbed her ankle and yanked her into the creek, so fast and strong. I
Horror contorted Miyako’s face but Emi barely saw. She could hear Hana screaming and screaming.
“A second yokai jumped out of the water and grabbed me,” she whispered. The size of a child but thick and stocky, with bluish-green skin, a completely hairless head, webbed fingers, and fangs that flashed brightly as it grinned in vicious delight. She couldn’t remember its face but she remembered that grin. “It grabbed my legs and pulled me off the bridge. I don’t know how, but I kept one hand on the railing post and held on to Hana with my other hand.”
Even in her memories, she didn’t feel the pain, though it must have hurt. The yokai with its hooked claws sunk into her ankles, dragging her down. The splinters of wood in her fingers from the post. Hana’s death grip on her other hand as the second yokai pulled her toward the bottom of the creek. Hana had spluttered and choked on the dirty water, scarcely able to keep her head up, as she screamed Emi’s name over and over.
Emi remembered the moment she’d realized they would both die. She remembered looking at Hana and seeing her own terror reflected back, terror so deep she could see Hana’s soul in her eyes.
And then Hana’s hand had been gone from hers.
Emi bit hard on her lower lip, unable to stop the tears from sliding down her cheeks. Even now, she didn’t know. She didn’t know what had happened. Had the yokai yanked Hana away? Had Hana’s grip given out, allowing the yokai to drag her under? Or had Emi realized she was about to die … and let go? Had she let her best friend die to save herself?
She would never be sure. But she would always fear that, deep down, she knew the answer.
Drawn by the screams, Katsuo and the other sohei had arrived mere seconds later and leaped into the water to rescue Emi. The yokai had released her and vanished beneath the murky surface. Katsuo had dragged her onto the bank and guarded her while the others searched the creek for Hana, but they’d arrived too late to save her.