The monk Kazuya crosses his legs and sits on the back porch of his house. The cherry trees are yet to blossom, but nature is regaining its green blanket. And when nature wakes up, so do the spirits.
Incense sticks are everywhere around him, and the chilly wind does little to disperse the smoke. Kazuya waits. The Sun is to set any moment now, and then his goddess will emerge. He is the royal spiritual advisor, and yet, his words would often fall on deaf ears. The Emperor would rather listen to his regional lords. Kazuya’s pleas would go unheard, and when he was persistent enough, he would be shunned away from the royal palace.
Kazuya is afraid, not only for the Emperor’s negligence of the spiritual world but for the people of the empire as well. His goddess has blessed him with visions, each time a full moon caressed the night sky. Tonight is to be the same. Another vision, Kazuya is certain. He just hopes someone will listen.
“Iori! Parchment!” The old monk shouts.
Paper on shoji rustles behind Kazuya as a young man, his assistant, emerges, carrying a bundle of yellow parchments, ink and a thin brush.
Kazuya’s eyes are clouded from old age, but he gently grabs the brush his student has brought. His fingers know the shape of every character, both Chinese and Japanese. His poor eyesight does little to ruin his writing skills.
After waiting for a moment, Iori bows and retreats back into the small house. Kazuya sighs, moving his knees just a bit to find a position of greater comfort. Last two full moons he was gifted with visions, and because tonight is a full moon again, he sits in his garden, prepared for another one.
#
The first time he had been sent a vision was during his lunch. Kazuya saw a whispering snake in his rice bowl, slithering around the emperor’s feet. It opened its jaw, striking venom in the Emperor’s flesh. In shock and terror, the old monk pushed the bowl away, spilling rice on the floor. The rice grains then tumbled and shifted, taking the appearance of the Emperor’s court lords and ladies. These usurpers took the Emperor’s ornamented Kanmuri, each hand tearing off a piece while the Emperor died below.
Kazuya had immediately written an urgent letter to his sovereign, begging him for a personal meeting. The Emperor had agreed, but after hearing his advisor’s worries, the Emperor had scoffed. “I trust my kin, and they trust in me. I have granted you the wish of visiting your estate and conferring with you because of the service you offered my father. He loved you, and so shall I. But my dear advisor, your old age has crept up on you, and your eyes are not what they used to be. I shall pardon this absurd request from you, but know this. If you dare bore me again with the nonsense of yours, I shall dispose of you as one disposes of a wretched fly. Enjoy the rest of your life, Kazuya-san, and teach the boy your secrets, so he can take your place after you leave us.” And with those words that stung Kazuya’s heart, the Emperor and his envoy had left.
Kazuya continued with his teachings, meditating with Iori for days. Just as he was to believe that his eyes did in fact trick him and that his Holiness the Emperor was right, his goddess blessed him with another vision.
Kazuya was outside, in his garden, watching the Koi fish dance in the pond, when his eyes clouded once more. Gasping with air, he called out to his assistant. From the still surface of the pond, a horse rider emerged, carrying a lantern high in his hands. It spewed black smoke, and when it landed on the water’s surface, the smoke sank, shrouding Koi fish in black. One by one, the fish would reach the surface, with their bellies up.
By the time Iori had reached his mentor, Kazuya was on the ground, shaking. “Kazuya-san! Should I bring water? Should I call the Goteni?!”
Kazuya raised his hand to silence his assistant. “Parchment…” He whispered. “Bring me parchment and ink, Iori-kun. If the Emperor shall not listen, then his people will!”
Confused, Iori did as told, bringing his mentor what he had asked for. Placing the parchment on a board that was on the ground, Kazuya started writing with a shaking hand. As his words covered the parchment’s surface, his fear left him. Instead of addressing the Emperor, he addressed the people of the capital.
“Is that a smart idea, Kazuya-san? What about the Emperor’s threats?”
“These are not my words I am sharing with the world, but ones from my goddess. If the Emperor wants me dead, then I will accept his judgment. But know this, Iori-kun; I shall rather speak truthfully and die than live in silence. The people must be warned!”
Iori nodded, feeling both confused and afraid for his mentor. Then he gazed at the pond. He gasped. “The Koi? What killed them?”
Kazuya was silent, focusing on the characters he was writing. With every stroke of the brush, he felt more and more confident. People had to know.
After some time, under the light of a couple of torches that outshone the stars, Kazuya finished his letter, warning people of the capital of encroaching disease. “Take it”, he said, waking his asleep student. “Run to the capital, wake Houjou Toshihide and give him this. He will know what to do with it. I believe in him. Now go, Iori-kun.”
The boy rubbed his eyes to deter sleep, grabbed a leather bag and carefully placed the folded parchment in it. In the next second, he was gone.
Finally feeling relieved, Kazuya sighed. He wished to stand up, but his legs had gone numb. Kazuya raised his gaze, seeing the Moon approaching its zenith. “Thank you, my goddess” he whispered.
Kazuya woke up at the noon the following day. There was no sight of his assistant, and the servant girl told him that no letter had reached them. Even by foot, the boy must have reached the capital by then, Kazuya thought, stroking his white beard. Something was off.
With help from one of the servant girls, he moved to the garden. The wind had stopped and the sun had blessed them. One of the servants had removed the fish from the pond, leaving it unusually barren. Kazuya ordered his meal to be brought outside to him, but the appetite had left him. The seemingly cheerful sunny day had suddenly turned sour. He remembered the vision of the night before again. The horse rider with a lantern of poison reappeared in his mind again. When he was but a child, his grandmother would tell stories of a hermit with a lantern that brought spotted sickness with him. He shivered again, despite the sun’s gentle and warm light.
“Kazuya-san!” a girl called behind him. The old monk turned, noticing an unfamiliar man at the shoji. Then the sliding door was pulled further, revealing exhausted Iori next to the man.
“Is this your letter, Maeda Kazuya?” the unfamiliar man asked. Kazuya squinted, noticing the royal red and black colours of the Emperor’s guard.
“Iori” Kazuya uttered, “Be my eyes and tell me whether that man is holding my letter!”
Iori took the parchment from the guard and, with heavy breath, read its content.
“Yes,” Kazuya said as soon as Iori had read the last word. “That is, in fact, my letter, addressed to the people of the capital.”
Angrily, the guard snatched the parchment back from Iori’s hands. He held it high in the air, so Kazuya could see, and tore it to pieces. “The Emperor will not be glad to hear about this.”
The guard turned on his heel and stormed off the house. After the monk was sure that the guard had left his house, he relaxed. “Iori-kun, are you all right?”
“Yes, Kazuya-san. Just worn out.”
“Tell me, please. What had happened in the capital?”
Iori sat on the porch. “I did as you asked of me. Delivered the letter to the monk Houjou at the city temple. He took me in and, after reading the letter, he had it transcribed and sent to different corners of the capital.”
Kazuya smiled. “And?”
“However, soon, the guards entered the temple. Houjou-san helped me to run away, but the guards captured him. I do not know what happened next, but I took off for the house, Kazuya-san. Just as I was to reach the house, one of the riders caught up to me. Houjou must have told them it was your letter.”
“I do not blame him”, Kazuya said, worried. “I hope my old friend is all right. The Emperor’s guards aren’t known for their kindness.” The monk was silent for a moment. “Have they successfully managed to send out copies?”
“I saw many different monks leave the temple with the newly written parchments. I don’t know what happened next to them.”
“One of them must have reached his destination. The people need to know…”
“What should we do, Kazuya-san?” His assistant got up and started pacing on the porch.
The old monk shrugged and took his bowl of rice. “Whatever the Emperor decides, we will oblige.” Kazuya started eating his meal, delighted that his appetite had returned.
A week passed, but they received no news from the Emperor. On the eighth day, however, an envoy appeared in front of Kazuya’s home. Iori helped his mentor stand and welcome the daimyo. A fat man emerged from the carriage, and one of his guards helped him stand up. He walked up to the house’s entrance, where the old monk, his assistant and the rest of the servants stood. They all bowed, apart from Kazuya. His back was already hunched and couldn’t be lowered anymore. So he nodded. The daimyo didn’t seem to mind, as he bowed himself, as much as his stomach would allow.
“It is an honour to finally meet you, Maeda Kazuya!” The man shouted. “My name is Watanabe Kageharu, daimyo of the Miata region.”
“My eyes might have failed me, Kageharu-san, but my ears work well enough.”
The daimyo awkwardly smiled, before continuing in a normal voice. “Excuse my manners, then.” He bowed again. “I have come to expect differently from men of your age.”
Kazuya pleasantly smiled, although he did not like the man. “Please, welcome to my home. My servants will take care of your every need.”
Daimyo Kageharu walked inside, followed by two of his guards and two servant girls. Kazuya remembered his manners. “Are you tired, my lord? I will have my cooks make you supper at once!”
“That won’t be necessary, at least for now, Kazuya-san. I would prefer nothing more than a cup of tea and the view from your garden. The capital has a lot to offer indeed, but a stunning view over the ocean is not one of its attributes.”
Kazuya nodded and walked out of the back shoji and stepped onto the porch. Gripping the handrail, he walked off the porch and to the centre of the garden, where the pond was. There were two mats on the ground, for him and Iori. Kazuya slowly sat on one. “Please, Kageharu-san. Join me. They shall bring refreshments in the meantime.”
The fat man sat, unable to cross his legs. A man of his stature would prefer a higher seat, Kazuya noticed. “So, my lord, what brings you to my remote cottage?” Kazuya supposed the Emperor had sent this man, but he played the game either way.
“Oh, straight to business, I see… Do we have to, though? Would you allow me to enjoy this breathtaking view in front of me?”
Kazuya shrugged. He heard the guards behind carrying daimyo’s chests to the guest room. “How long shall you be staying with us, my lord?” The monk asked.
“Oh, just a couple of days, Kazuya-san. On the third dawn from today, I shall be on my merry way to my homeland.” The fat man sighed, looking around the garden. “Strange to see your pond empty of fish. It is a time of prosperity in the nation, Kazuya-san” daimyo laughed, “If I had known I would have brought you better fish to eat!”
Kazuya didn’t laugh. “They died,” the monk said, “When I received the vision from Tsukuyomi.”
“I don’t like that word,” daimyo said. “Visions…” he spoke slowly as if tasting the very word. “Excuse me, dear Kazuya, but can a man of your sight really say what a vision is?”
Kazuya was silent. “Do you wish to insult me, daimyo? In my own home?”
Daimyo’s face got red. “No, not at all. Pardon me for my harsh words. But please tell me this.” He extended his hand. “What can you tell me about the waves on the beach?”
Kazuya lifted his gaze. His eyes saw the empty pond, the fence, and a couple of trees beyond it. Nothing more. If there were no sounds of the ocean, Kazuya might have forgotten he lived close to the beach. “I see no beach, Kageharu-san.”
Daimyo Kageharu chuckled. “My point exactly, Kazuya-san. My point exactly.”
Shoji behind them rustled as someone slid the door open. A servant girl came to them, carrying two steaming cups and a bowl of mochi. She bowed and placed the tray in front of them.
“Thank you, dear” the monk said, his eyes still searching for the mysterious ocean.
“Wonderful” daimyo said, taking the teacup. He took a sip and then placed a sweet in his mouth. He covered his mouth as he talked. “Do you love our Emperor and his empire, Kayuza-san?”
The monk looked at him, raising a grey brow. “Of course. What kind of a question is that, my lord? Do you take me for a traitor?”
Daimyo laughed, munching another mochi. “Oh, no, no, my dear friend. Even if you were, which nobody believes, you would be too old. But alas, I do not wish to interrogate. I just wish to have a pleasant talk.”
Kazuya grunted.
“Let me help you see what the empire really is like, Kazuya-san. From the south to the west, people wake up and bless our merciful Emperor. He had made our country the best in the world! Even the descendants of the legendary Chinese emperors now look at us with admiration.”
“And?”
Daimyo chuckled, taking more of the mochi. “It is a stable and strong land, Kazuya. Nothing bad will or can happen to it!”
“Nothing?” Kazuya raised an eyebrow.
“Nothing!” daimyo said, sure in his words. “But you, my dear friend, have caused a bit of commotion on the court. And since our beloved Emperor is so busy with making our country as perfect as it currently is, we don’t want to burden him with any more nonsense, do we? This fearmongering of yours won’t lead to anything good, dear Kazuya.”
Kazuya was silent. “Has the Emperor sent you?”
Daimyo chuckled. “Maybe he has, maybe he has not, Kazuya-san. But let me tell you this,” his smile vanished, leaving behind a serious face. “There are plans already set in motion in the capital, and you, my dear friend, cannot change them at all! So hear my advice; Drink tea and eat mochi every day here, and enjoy the sight of the ocean! Many would kill for such an opportunity to live out their final days.”
“I cannot see the ocean, my lord. Have you not said so yourself?”
“Then listen to its waves! For all I care, you could even take a swim in it. I could arrange it for you to see the ocean, Kazuya-san.” Watanabe Kageharu placed down the empty cup. Then he smiled. “Don’t do something that both you and I will regret.” He stood up and headed back into the house. Kazuya, after hearing the shoji close, sighed. Now more than ever, he was afraid for his emperor.
He lowered his cup of tea as well, next to the empty bowl. The daimyo had eaten all of the sweets.
“I have seen one of his guards at the temple, Kazuya-san,” Iori said during their meditation in the garden. The daimyo had gone for a stroll on the beach, taking both of his guards with him.
“I thought as much” Kazuya whispered.
“What are we to do? The Emperor does not want to listen at all!”
“I do not think the daimyo was sent by our Emperor,” Kazuya said peacefully.
“That can’t be, Kazuya-san?! He bears the Emperor’s sigil.”
“Ha!” Kazuya snickered. “If I was to wear a servant’s skirt, would you call me as such?”
Iori blushed. He was silent for a while.
“Do not worry, Iori-kun. I am sure the heavens will provide a solution. Ours is only to meditate and find it!”
After a few days, at the break of dawn, the daimyo left Kazuya’s home, together with his guards and servants. He went south, away from the capital.
“For someone who talks so highly of the capital and the Emperor, he is quick to leave it!” Iori said while standing in front of the house, looking at Watanabe Kageharu’s envoy go away.
“He does not leave, he flees” Kazuya murmured and went back inside. He went straight to the garden.
Confused, Iori followed. They had not heard a word from the Emperor, only Kageharu’s discrete threats.
“I am afraid he was right, Iori-kun.”
The assistant joined the monk. “What do you mean?”
“I really can’t see the ocean from here…”
Iori lifted his gaze, confused. “You cannot?”
The monk sighed. “I can’t see the ocean anymore. Nor can I do anything about the Emperor.”
Iori was silent, thinking about his mentor’s words. “Maybe on the next full moon, the goddess will show you a way. Surely, she couldn’t have forgotten us, Kazuya-san!”
The monk was silent and surprisingly calm. Iori couldn’t tell whether he was sleeping or meditating.
#
The monk Kazuya sighs, opening his eyes. He looks above, seeing a blur of white colour against the dark canvas. Even stars evade his gaze now. He grows impatient, shifting on the mat. He was certain that the goddess would send him another vision, yet he sits alone in the garden, the light of a torch being his only company. While the servants are asleep back in the house, he hears Iori move restlessly throughout the home. He as well cannot go to sleep. “Poor boy” Kazuya whispers.
Suddenly, the paper on the shoji rustles as Iori opens it, running towards his mentor. He is waving something. “Kazuya-san! There was a letter!”
Kazuya perches up, the boredom and drowsiness leaving him monetarily. “A letter? From whom?”
Iori stops, panting. “From monk Houjou Toshihide! From the capital! The letter must have arrived today with other supplies…”
“Read it, Iori-kun!”
The assistant tears the envelope and pulls out a small, curled-up piece of parchment. He starts reading, but in a moment, his excited expression turns into a worried one.
“What? What does-“
Something zips through the air, surprising both of them. Iori falls to the ground, but Kazuya’s eyes are chained to the walls of his home. An orange ball has appeared on them.
Soon, many more arrows fly through the air, hitting the walls and the roof of the house, helping the fire spread.
“No…” Kazuya whispers, raising his hand.
“What’s happening?!” Iori squeals, still on the ground.
Shouts of men reach Kazuya, shortly followed by the screams of his servants. A man jumps through the shoji, tearing the paper on it. He walks slowly towards Kazuya and Iori, holding a katana in front of him, as Kazuya could pose a threat. As he nears the monk, Kazuya notices his armour. It has vibrant red and black silk lacing and large shoulder plates. He does not wear a helmet but has a black oni mask that covers half of his face, leaving his black eyes uncovered. Although he wears royal colours, Kazuya can’t find the Emperor’s sigil on the man.
After coming to a step from them, the man shields his katana. He then draws a much shorter blade, a wakizashi. Kazuya hears the screams of the servant woman coming from his home. This helps him to regain his wits.
“You have no honour!” Kazuya spats the guard. The man stops for a moment, and then the brow above the mask furrows. With the back of his hand, he slaps the monk, causing Kazuya to fall on his back.
“No, don’t-“ Iori jumps to protect his mentor, but the guard kicks him. Holding his stomach, the boy falls to the ground.
The guard, still holding the wakizashi, pulls Kazuya’s head up and places the blade on his throat.
“Don’t!” another voice speaks.
The guard stalls.
“He is a monk. Slaughtering an unarmed monk is without honour!” another man says.
The guard holding Kazuya sighs and sets the old monk free. “He must die!” he says, “Maeda Kazuya supports the Emperor!”
“You will be his kaishakunin, then!” The other voice sternly replies.
Kazuya’s eyes widen. The men want to behead him and thus give him honour in death.
Before Kazuya can think of anything else, the man, the one who has stopped his would-be killer, kneels next to the monk. He has red spots all over his face. “Do you have any last requests, Kazuya-san?” he asks gently.
Kazuya raises his head at the sky, slowly. He looks at the moon, wishing to utter a last prayer to Tsukuyomi. Then he hears the waves.
“The ocean!” He whispers. “I want to see the ocean one last time!”
Two guards look at one another. After a moment one shrugs and they grab Kazuya by the shoulders, helping him walk. There are more men in the garden, Kazuya notices. One of them grabs the injured Iori and carries him over his shoulder. As they are taking him to the beach, Kazuya glances back at his house. It is fully enveloped by angry flames, which are sending sparks high above, so high that Kazuya cannot tell them apart from blurry stars anymore.
Then he remembers the boy. “Leave the boy be, I beg you” Kazuya whispers. “He is only doing what I tell him to do! He will soon be a monk!”
“I am sorry, Kazuya-san.” one of the guards says. “We have strict orders to follow. He too shall face an honourable death. Try to find solace in that.”
Kazuya looks at Iori. He sees the terror on the child’s face. As if being able to sense his mentor’s emotions, Iori starts screaming and twitching, but the captor’s hands are way too strong. The boy begs and sobs, but the man continues carrying him to the beach as if he was made of stone.
They are going to kill Iori, Kazuya realises. They will kill me as well. Kazuya was old, and he knew he was going to die soon. But the idea of him facing his death did not come peacefully.
Then, his feet touched the sand. Kazuya lifted his gaze.
The ocean. Endless waves are rolling one over the other, hurling white foam on the sandy beach. Rhythmic splashes calm the old monk and even a smile appears on his face. “It is… beautiful” he whispers.
The men force him onto his knees. The waves touch his skin and he feels happiness. “I can see the ocean!” he says as the men position around him.
As his soon-to-be killer draws his katana, something stirs within him. Kazuya looks upon the waves and the ocean again with his clouded eyes.
They are burning. Fiery tongues are burning on the ocean’s unsteady surface, making form on humanoid figures.
Kazuya screams in terror. “Do you not see them?!” he points out at the dancing fire atop the ocean’s surface. The fiery daemons are starting to laugh as they are coming closer to the island. Their faces, now visible to Kazuya, are shifting and elongating. “They are coming to conquer us! To kill us all!”
The man holding the katana looks where the monk is showing. He sees nothing but lazy waves in the night. “I don’t have time for this!”
He swings his blade.
A sudden light blinds Kazuya. He looks again at the ocean. Now, instead of dancing fiery daemons, the Moon, large as a mountain and bright as the Sun stands. Its gentle light touches the monk, and he smiles. “Tsukuyomi” he whispers.
A woman smiles, standing on the water. The Moon is her background. “Come, my dear Kazuya,” she says softly. Her voice is no louder than the pebbles being thrown by the waves, but Kazuya hears her perfectly. What’s more, his eyes see her every hair strand, every wrinkle of her white dress, and her white gem-like eyes.
“You have come to save me!” Kazuya cries out.
The goddess smiles, offering her monk a hand. Kazuya takes it and joins his goddess, stepping on the ocean as well. He does not sink. “You will suffer no more, my dear Kazuya.”
“I’ve tried! I have tried to tell them and to warn them, but-”
“I know” she hugs him, “You did well.”
“What will happen to them? Will they-will we survive?”
“The cycle cannot be stopped, Kazuya. For us to live, others had to die before. And so we die…” she looks at something at the beach.
Kazuya turns. He sees his body kneeling on the sand and his head a few steps away from it. The waves are pushing and pulling it slowly, trying to get it into the ocean.
“…So others can live?” Kazuya whispers. He looks at the men who have just killed him. Dark and gloomy clouds cover their faces. They are blinded. Only Iori, who is kneeling next to the dead body of Kazuya, is looking at them. He sees Kazuya and the Moon Goddess. As the man who killed Kazuya places his katana on the boy’s neck, Iori smiles. He does not cry anymore.
