My Heart was Swimming in Words Gathered by the Wind (2/8)

[astrangestorm]

His mother cries herself to sleep every night now, and it annoys his father so much that on some nights he doesn’t come home. Maybe he stays with friends, maybe he goes to an inn. Kazu doesn’t know.

He had embarrassed his parents completely on Gift Day. A priest had come with a rickshaw, pulling up in front of the shop to order his parents to come immediately to the temple. The neighbors had all seen it. Kazu had been denied the right to bathe in the temple to remove the pollution of touching the spirit. In fact, Kazu had been denied the right to visit Odawara Jingu ever again.

He’s not a Sin Eater. But he’s not normal either. Something is very wrong with him, and the blame for it has somehow fallen on his parents, even though the priests did not have an exact answer.

Kazu had only pretended to sleep when the priest had come to their house the day after Gift Day, listening in as it was explained to them. When a Sin Eater enters trance, they are blind and can see only the spirit they must absolve. They are most vulnerable in these moments, their eyes turning completely white. If Kazu had been a Sin Eater, his eyes would have turned white the instant he touched the earthworm’s spirit.

Instead his eyes had gone completely black, and he had passed out. The earthworm’s spirit had gone.

“We have never seen this before,” the priest had said. “We cannot allow him to pollute our grounds.”

“He is my son,” his mother had complained. “He is just a boy! Perhaps he is a Sin Eater, one you’ve never seen before.”

“The head priest examined the boy, Ninomiya-san. He is wrong. He is empty. Where his spirit ought to lie, there is nothing. He is an empty child.”

Kazu had scooted away from listening at the door upon hearing it, curling up in his futon with the blanket over his head. He hadn’t cried, he’d done nothing but hide. What does it mean, to be empty? What does it mean, to be nothing? The priests don’t know, his parents don’t know either.

His Grandma is the only one who will touch him now. Where his mother used to wake him by ruffling his hair, she now stays away, cooking his meals and never meeting his eyes. Maybe she thinks that if she looks long enough that his eyes will turn black, and he’ll curse her. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t ever hurt his mother. His father, who had been telling Kazu since he was young that one day he would inherit the shop? He has quickly changed his tune. His father’s assistant, Taichi, is 21, and may be taking Kazu’s place now.

He hasn’t gone outside since Gift Day. Maybe it’s best he stays inside from now on, his parents have implied. They’ve given him things to do to occupy his time. He double-checks the books for the shop, checking Taichi’s work. But Taichi is good with sums, and what could a 10 year old do to correct a man grown?

His Grandma has given him several small gifts, whatever she can afford with the allowance his father gives her. She’s bought him a secondhand shamisen to play along with sheet music and instruction manuals so he can teach himself. He plucks at it and sings to himself, and his Grandma applauds any growth in his skills, slow as it is. She’s given him decks of cards too, and he plays against himself.

His friends, the neighborhood boys he used to play tag with, the boys he used to chase rats with, have not visited. Word has spread fast, and Kazu is no better than an invalid. Nobody really seems to know the truth of it, other than that Kazu is somehow wrong, somehow broken. Well, forget them, Grandma says. If this is how they behave, they are not your real friends.

Apparently Kazu has never had a real friend, and given his situation now, it’s unlikely he ever will.

Sometimes at night he sneaks out, if only to enjoy the fresh air and the stars. He climbs the sturdy ivy that grows along the wall between their property and the neighbors. He perches there atop the wall and looks out. Odawara seems the same as it always has been. He can see the city walls in the distance, higher than ten houses stacked end to end, they say. Even though Odawara is the closest city to the Nihonbashi, it is rarely affected by Tsumi.

There was an attack when his father was a boy, in the south where the city meets the sea. The wall had been breached, and seawater had flooded much of the lower city there. But most of the deaths were from drowning, not from Tsumi itself. But since then it seems Tsumi has put more effort into easier targets.

Kazu sits on his neighbor’s wall and wonders what it would be like to scale Odawara’s city walls, to run away and go to a place where nobody knows he’s empty, where it might not matter if he’s nothing. So long as he doesn’t touch a spirit, nobody would ever know.

But then the sun rises, starts to peek out over Odawara’s wall. He climbs the ivy back down and is in his futon by the time his mother wakes to start a new day.

-

Ohno-san was already gone with Aiba and the caravan to Heiankyo when the Sin Eater woke. Nino was dozing in his chair behind the counter when he could hear the man groan.

He got to his feet, peeking over to see the man, Sho, staring up at the ceiling in confusion. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Sho replied, seemingly more out of polite instinct than in genuine greeting. “Satoshi-kun? Where am I?”

Nino sighed, walking around the counter to the mound of blankets taking up valuable real estate in the center of his shop. “Is that Ohno-san’s name? He’s not here.”

“Not here?” Sho replied in shock, trying to get up and almost immediately crying out in pain. He shut his eyes, groaning as he stayed on his back. “What’s going on?”

Nino filled a tin cup with well water from the bucket he’d brought down from his kitchen, crouching down at the stranger’s side. “I don’t know the full tale of woe as yet, but you got yourself skewered pretty bad. My name’s Ninomiya, this is my shop on the Tokaido.”

Sho opened his eyes, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His chest rose and fell beneath the blanket, and he did not look like he was doing that well. But all things considered, it was a miracle he was breathing at all. Taking it slower this time, Nino helped him to sit up. He still seemed to be in considerable pain, but he was stubbornly determined to take a look around. He accepted the water, sipping it without so much as a thank you.

“Ohno-san called you Sho-kun, but since we’re not all that acquainted, what would you prefer I call you?”

The cup shook in Sho’s hand as he let the water dribble past his lips. He finally handed it back when his pride could no longer compete with the pain. “My name is Sho of Heiankyo’s House Sakurai.”

“Sakurai,” Nino mumbled. “I’ve heard that one once or twice…”

“Lord Sho is the usual address,” the man admitted, “but since I appear to be in your debt, I’m thinking we can skip that for now.” Sakurai, Nino tried to remember. One of Heiankyo’s big families, probably owned property and had one of the fancy houses in the safest part of town. A rich kid. Not that Sakurai was a kid. He and Ohno-san appeared to be of an age with him. There’d been quite the baby boom when Lord Kondo’s Calm had arrived.

“Good,” Nino replied, moving to fill the cup once more. “When Ohno-san brought you in here last night you weren’t looking very lordly. You should see your new scar, it’s a bad one.”

Sakurai’s hand drifted automatically to his middle, the source of his pain. He moved the blanket down, and Nino politely looked away as Sakurai took a look at the extent of the damage his body had taken. “I don’t even remember…”

“That seems like a blessing to me. It was bad,” Nino admitted, helping Sakurai take a drink. “My friend has a trade caravan, seems he found you and Ohno-san along the road. Brought you here.”

“Then where is Satoshi-kun?” Sho asked, sounding irritated. Ah, Nino discovered, Lord Sho indeed.

Nino moved away, leaning his back against his shop counter and hugging his knees. “Fixing that wound of yours cost me most of the curative medicine in this shop. It’s not cheap.”

Sakurai raised a haughty eyebrow. “You would overcharge a Sin Eater on pilgrimage?”

“It’s not even an overcharge, Your Lordship,” he said, deciding to mimic the man’s snooty tone. “Your guts were spilling out on my floor. You’re lucky to be alive. But anyhow, as to your friend, he informed me that you’re low on funds. So for now, he’s off to Heiankyo to work until you can pay up.”

A vein in Sakurai’s kind of thick neck pulsed in anger. “He is my guardian.”

“He’s not very good at it,” Nino shot back, and the look Sakurai gave him could have melted ice. But since Nino was accustomed to such looks from other Sin Eaters who expected freebies just because of who they were, he let it slide right off him. “For now, you’re stuck until you make up for all the potions you used. And maybe it’s a good thing. If you can’t even make it ten miles on the highroad, you’ll never make it to the Nihonbashi.”

Sakurai let his anger get the best of him, and he tried to lunge at Nino. It cost him, leaving him sprawled on his back again with tears in his eyes. Nino got to his feet, chuckling under his breath. Sin Eaters were the worst. Having already resolved to give their lives to defeat Tsumi, they really got reckless and stupid. It was a wonder any of them survived the pilgrimage at all.

“If you have to piss, give me a shout before you do it on the floor. I’ll be upstairs.”

With that he climbed the ladder, leaving Lord Idiot to his pain and bad choices. He’d tallied up his costs after Ohno-san had finally gone to sleep near his friend’s side. If he got at least half of the money back from Ohno and Sakurai, then it wouldn’t cut into his retirement fund too much. Of course that was assuming that Tsumi would be defeated sooner rather than later, and he could start bringing in money in earnest once more.

It had been strange too, waking with someone else in the house. Unfamiliar snoring, different smells. Even when Aiba stuck around, he preferred to sleep outside under the stars.

But he had new information now. Lord Sho, House Sakurai. That had to mean money. And since dear Sin Eater son was a short jaunt from home, perhaps he could go knock on his parents’ door and get the money. Of course most Sin Eaters headed east, but there wasn’t that much shame in turning around for a few things. Especially if he did it sneaky-like and wasn’t dumb enough to put on the white kimono he’d worn when leaving town.

He was dusting cobwebs from the corners when he heard a slightly more humble shout from the ground floor. Never before had “Ninomiya” been said in such a pathetic tone, and it made him smile.

He went down to find Sakurai had managed to get to his feet. He was a sorry sight, clad in one of Nino’s cast-off shirts that was too small for him and a new pair of trunks. He was leaning against the shop counter, trying to cover his half-naked body with one of the blankets. He was a handsome fellow, a trait that always seemed to bless the Sin Eaters. You felt sorrier when a good-looking person went off to die, Nino supposed. But his good looks were offset by his arrogant sneer.

“You asked me to call you when I had to piss.”

Nino’s smile brightened, and he offered his arm. Sakurai’s every step seemed painful, and Nino didn’t envy him that. He took Sakurai outside, step by step, to the privacy of the bushes behind the shop. “I’d give you my chamber pot, but that is up the ladder. No ladders for you.”

Sakurai sighed. “You are an interesting person, Ninomiya-san.”

“Just Nino is fine. We’re all friends here.”

“Right.”

When Sakurai had finished his business, he found where Ohno-san had left their packs. Together, Nino helped the man into a better fitting set of clothes. He looked a little less pitiable now. “Our own potion stores are in the red pack,” Sakurai said. “Obviously not as strong as what you sell here, but if I could have some for the pain…”

Nino, feeling generous, crouched down and dug around in the pack until he unearthed some vials. He uncorked one and gave it to Sakurai. He was still wincing with every step, but at least some of the color was returning to his face. He truly had lost a lot of blood. It was remarkable that his brain was still working.

They settled, Nino giving Sakurai his chair and taking the counter to perch on. “Alright, so what’s the story?”

Sakurai was sitting very gingerly, as though any movement was too much. “What do you mean?”

“You’re six miles from Heiankyo. What kind of pilgrimage are you on anyhow? People usually don’t fail this quickly.”

This earned him another of Sakurai’s angry glances. They were starting to become halfway charming, if only because he’d eventually be gone and Nino wouldn’t have to deal with them any longer.

“We were training.”

“Training,” Nino repeated, skeptical.

Sakurai looked down, reddening. “It’s a bit complicated.”

“Ohno-san’s going to be working this off for a while. Got time.”

At the mention of his friend once more, Sakurai’s shame grew. “I’m not…I’m not on an official pilgrimage. I’m a Sin Eater, but my parents didn’t want me to go. They felt my place was in Heiankyo.”

“As a priest?”

Sakurai shook his head. “As their heir. I’m the oldest of three, so…”

Nino nodded. “Well, there’s plenty of Sin Eaters on pilgrimage. One of them will get Tsumi.”

“That was my parents’ opinion. I disagreed. So I, well, I left.”

Nino was a little impressed with the courage it must have taken. An heir, a cushy life tossed aside. Courageous, sure, but also kind of stupid. Officially sanctioned pilgrimages were more likely to succeed. With the temple’s backing, you received gifts, assistance along the way. Going without was all the more dangerous. But Sakurai going without permission went a long way to explaining why he and Ohno had so little money despite Sakurai being a Lord of Heiankyo.

“And you were training how?”

Sakurai allowed himself a sheepish smile. “I’ve known I was a Sin Eater since I was 10. I trained a little then, but my parents made me stop. So it’s been about twenty years since I’ve absolved anything. Satoshi-kun and I have only been gone a week or so. I have to be stronger if I’m going to face Tsumi, so we’ve been going slowly. Small things so far, absolving birds, anything we found on the road.” Sakurai’s hand hovered over his abdomen. “Guess we found something I wasn’t ready for yet.”

“Let me guess,” Nino continued. “Ohno-san’s as experienced at being a guardian as you are at being a Sin Eater.”

“He’s my friend,” Sho said, frowning. “Ah well, he was actually a servant in my parents’ house, but he’s always been my friend. He never trained for this though. He worked in the kitchens. I’m thirty-two and he’s a year older. A little old to start, but I want to bring the Calm.”

“You endangered his life, asking him to go with you.”

Sakurai looked down. “I know.”

“Will you go back?”

Sakurai shook his head. “When I heal and we can repay your kindness, we will continue east.”

“Why? You’re not prepared. You’ll both die.”

At that, the Sin Eater met his eyes. “But isn’t it better to at least try?”

-

Kazu is 17 when his father leaves.

Although by that time his father has long since left. The marriage is never dissolved at the temple. His mother and father are far too prideful for such a thing. But it’s been years now that they’ve lived apart. Though the shop is in the same building as their home, his father only comes during the day and for a few years now it is more often that Taichi is left alone there.

His mother does not seem that shaken up about it. She mostly seems annoyed that her husband has left his own mother in her care and is going away. For the last few years, it seems Ninomiya Hiroshi has turned to the temples for guidance. An empty monster for a son, a depressed wife, a mother whose mind has been gone for some time, Kazu kind of understands his father’s pain even if he doesn’t agree with his decisions.

Being at the temples has introduced his shopkeep father to Sin Eaters. He’s apparently joined several expeditions outside of Odawara, accompanying Sin Eaters in their training. Unabsolved creatures are killed and granted their final rest, keeping the Walled City safe from external threats. The Calm has ended, and his father returns only to sign over the shop to Taichi with assurances that his estranged wife, mother, and son will be looked after.

“I am going east,” his father says the last time they share a meal. “I have been asked to serve as guardian to Lord Takuya of House Kimura. It is an honor to be chosen.”

Kazu’s mother spoons out an extra portion of food for her husband. “I pray you are able to bring the Calm.”

Kazu eats his meal in silence. He’s grown up in this house, trapped inside its walls, and now his father is just going to leave. His father who was always so cynical about the pilgrimage. But he’s heard the rumors, has listened to the women who come to play cards and have tea with his mother sometimes. Hiroshi has fallen for one of Lord Takuya’s other guardians. When she was asked to go on the pilgrimage, Hiroshi suddenly decided that he would go too.

These rumors have not stirred his mother’s anger either. The man at the table with them is almost a stranger. No longer the bookish man with an abacus, Hiroshi is leaner, more muscled. He arrived at their home with a sword at his waist. The katana rests in the genkan beside his father’s shoes.

“Mother, I was hoping you would come wish me well. We pray at Odawara Jingu tomorrow morning before the sendoff,” Kazu’s father says.

His Grandma has been in a bad way for a few years now, but nobody at the table expects it when she spits in her own son’s face. Kazu’s father seems to accept and understand it, not even bothering to wipe his cheek and chin where the spittle has landed. They all keep eating.

“Kazunari is your flesh, your blood,” Grandma says.

Nobody speaks. What can be said? Maybe Hiroshi is going east for many reasons. Maybe he goes for love, and maybe he goes for the absolution a Sin Eater cannot bring. He goes east to seek forgiveness for having a damaged son.

His father departs with no fanfare, claiming his sword at the door. While his mother cleans up, indifferent to what has happened, Grandma asks Kazu to play for her in her room. It smells in here when he brings in his shamisen, sitting down on the floor. No matter how much his mother cleans, Grandma wets herself but is too proud to accept help. When he plays, singing as loud as he can without disturbing his mother, his Grandma looks at him with love.

And he feels it, the intensity of the love his Grandma offers him. How can he really be empty? How can he really be nothing when he can feel this love?

Eventually Grandma grows tired, her eyelids heavier and heavier as Kazu plays songs from her childhood, when she was a young woman in the upper city, before she married beneath herself and was cast out. “Kazu, hold my hand.”

Sometimes his grandmother is somewhere else in time, with the husband who died many years ago, in the old house where she’d given birth to Kazu’s father. But when Kazu plays for her, her mind sharpens, keeps her in the present. He sets the shamisen aside and holds his grandmother’s small, wrinkled hand in his own young, smooth one. His grandmother’s skin is a bit mottled with age, but Kazu’s is pale, lifeless from his years spent inside and out of sight.

“Kazu, you are not empty,” his Grandma whispers as she always does. He believes her, if only for a moment, before she falls asleep. He slips his hand away and goes to his own room, shutting himself inside.

-

Ohno’s skin was dark, baked from hours in the sunlight. For a week already he’d labored on Heiankyo’s walls, spreading new mortar. He hadn’t earned a lot, not yet anyhow, but his dedication was admirable. Nino softened the slightest bit, saying nothing further about charging his two guests for room and board. His garden had enough to feed all three, even if Nino’s green thumb wasn’t much to speak about. Ohno and Sho slept on the ground floor of the shop, using the blankets Sho’s wound had bought them. They weren’t comfortable, and Nino knew that. They were meant for saddles, for animals, but the Sin Eater’s pride wasn’t budging.

Ohno walked to the city and back every day now that Aiba’s caravan had headed back up the Tokaido. He left before sunrise and returned after sunset, bone tired and skin aching with sunburn. The small potions from the red pack that had been set aside to ease Sho’s recovery were now slipped into Ohno’s food to ease his own pain. Nino hadn’t commented on this trick, knowing that Sho would be embarrassed if Ohno found out what he’d been doing.

Nino still didn’t understand Sho’s fervent desire to go on pilgrimage. He was over 30, clumsy even without his injury, and had clearly grown up pampered. Ohno, who’d been a servant, was used to laboring and following orders. He went dutifully to Heiankyo, most likely saving any complaints and curses for his long walks to and from the walls. But Ohno Satoshi was no warrior, wasn’t trained from a young age to use his sword, to serve as Sho’s human shield. It was like two children playing a game, but a game that would kill them both.

The more Ohno worked, the more Sho grew uptight, anxious to leave. Nino knew the Sin Eater was always seconds away from telling Nino to kiss his ass about the money and the potions, to open the door and get right back on the Tokaido. He could walk now without assistance and made short strolls up and down the road to work on his skills. Without Ohno to guard him, Sho saved his trances for small garter snakes, crushed under a cart’s wheel. For a bee hive plundered for honey. Nino begrudgingly accompanied the Sin Eater to keep him from almost dying again, standing by with a crossbow and bolts from his shop that he had in case of a break-in.

It was the first time he’d watched a trance up close and personal, the Sin Eater doing what they did best. A rabbit had been caught in one of Nino’s traps behind the house, the furthest afield. With all the pandemonium Sho and Ohno’s arrival had brought, Nino had neglected to check the trap. If skinned and eaten within a few days, there was no need for a Sin Eater to attend to it. With several kinds of animals, it seemed that the spirit moved on easily enough with the effort it took to cook it. Still in the trap, the dead animal had reanimated, driven only by its corrupted spirit. Nino watched in fright as the poor creature slammed itself against the trap, foaming at the mouth.

Housed as it was, it wasn’t going anywhere, so Nino was able to take his time and aim the crossbow accurately. The creature’s suffering, its second such round of it, ended swiftly. Dying a second time, this time its spirit glowed so brightly that its white light became a kaleidoscope of color. Nino stood back, watching as Sho approached the trap, his hand out.

Nino held his breath when Sho’s fingers came into contact with the shimmering spirit. Sho’s dark brown irises vanished, and his eyes went white as snow. The spirit tendrils were somehow attracted to Sho’s hand, and Nino could only watch as it seemed to detach from the animal, the light seeping into Sho’s skin like water soaking cloth. When all of the light was taken, when all of the sin was in essence consumed, Sho would let out a low moan and stumble back. His eyes would return to normal quickly, although his breathing would remain heavy for a few minutes more.

Sho explained it to Nino one night at dinner, Ohno ignoring the conversation in favor of slurping down his heavy broth. The lessons for Sin Eaters at the temple taught them how to handle themselves in trance. Untrained, a Sin Eater would be overwhelmed by the absorption of the spirit into his or her body. This was what made young Sin Eaters pass out, even from an earthworm. But with training, mostly a lot of meditation and brain exercises, the impact on the Sin Eater’s body would lessen. A dead human, bearing so much more sin than an animal, could still throw them for a loop, but with most unabsolved animals Sho was able to enter and exit his trance without losing consciousness. And this even after twenty years out of practice.

The more sin you consumed, Sho explained, the stronger you became. The more your body could take. It was necessary for someone in a big city like Heiankyo or Odawara. When Tsumi’s wrath struck or even events like earthquakes and floods did, a high body count required strong Sin Eaters to care for the spirits, to be able to consume the sin without running out of all their energy.

It was part of the pilgrimage as well. Before, Nino had only known that the Sin Eater and his guardians crossed the Nihonbashi to enter Yomi, the land of the dead where Tsumi’s spirit dwelled. By praying there, it was believed, the Sin Eater could banish Tsumi temporarily. Sho told him more. You had to be incredibly strong, mind and soul, to even enter Yomi.

“Because we are alive, and it is where the dead dwell,” Sho explained, smiling. “The priest at my temple always said it was like a man trying to enter a women’s bath house. You’re bound to face resistance.”

And once Tsumi was encountered, it would take one hell of a prayer to defeat him. Years and years’ worth of sin were needed to combat Tsumi, to offer an even fight. Whoever was strongest, the Sin Eater or Tsumi, won the day. So many pilgrimages failed because the Sin Eater had to be able to wholly consume Tsumi itself. The Sin Eater gave all of himself or herself to the effort. “A trance like no other,” Sho said. It was what killed them all every time, without fail, whether they succeeded in banishing Tsumi or not.

“But why do the guardians die?” Nino asked, crossing his arms. He saw Ohno’s ears perk up a bit, but he didn’t turn away from his food.

Sho faltered there, stumbling a bit on his words. “We don’t actually know. Nobody who has crossed the Nihonbashi has ever returned. The priests have speculated for centuries, of course, and the general thinking is that without their Sin Eater, they do not have the strength to leave Yomi without him. They remain trapped in the land of the dead.”

Nino remembered his grandmother’s stories, her tales of guardians who’d come back. “Why would anyone do it?”

“To save the world,” Ohno said quietly, ending the conversation.

-

Lord Kimura’s Calm comes shortly before Kazu’s 18th birthday. There’s a lone outpost ten miles from the Nihonbashi, the last patch of civilization. A temple manned by only a handful of priests. When a Sin Eater party makes it that far and decides to continue east, word is sent back west about who undertakes the journey. The name of the Sin Eater, the guardians who accompany him. Even though dozens of Sin Eater parties leave, very few make it to the Nihonbashi. Only one party enters Yomi at a time. There is never any doubt who has succeeded when the Calm happens.

Everyone knows when the new Calm arrives. Tsumi’s defeat cracks the heavens and a shimmering rain blankets all of Wakoku for a full day. Tsumi’s Dying Breath, they call it. The rain is a gentle one, and it falls without storm clouds. It simply happens. Lord Kimura’s party had crossed the Nihonbashi five weeks earlier, and that news had only just reached Odawara a few days ago by the fastest courier. It will be weeks before the cities to the west and south learn who has freed them all, who has brought the Calm once again.

With Tsumi’s Dying Breath, Kazu knows that his father is dead.

Taichi comes to the house the following day when all of Odawara is dancing in the streets, cheering the Calm’s return. In nine months, Wakoku will see hundreds of newborns arrive, born into a world without Tsumi. The celebrations will continue for at least a month, but the Ninomiya Sundries shop is a more solemn place that day.

Taichi, who has always been a bit of a laid-back, cheerful man, is uncharacteristically quiet. He kneels before Kazu’s mother. “I promised Hiroshi-san that you would be cared for. Anything you need, please allow me to help.”

His mother is calm and has not shed a single tear since word reached them that Lord Takuya of House Kimura and his guardians had crossed the Nihonbashi. “You can change the name of the shop if you wish,” his mother says. “You could establish yourself as a respected businessman in the community.”

Taichi looks up, shaking his head. “Kazuko-san, I could never do that. Don’t you know? Hiroshi-san is a hero. Hiroshi-san entered the land of the dead, bringing Lord Takuya safely to Tsumi. This family’s name will live forever.”

His mother doesn’t blink. “All the more reason to change it.”

Taichi leaves them alone, closing the door that separates the shop proper from the rest of the house. His mother sighs, picking at a loose string on her yukata. “Which of us should tell your grandmother what has happened?”

In the end, the task falls to Kazu. The last time his Grandma had seen her son, she’d spat on him. The rain has only just let up, and even in her confused state there’s no way she doesn’t know what type of rain it was.

He sits on the floor beside her and takes her hand. She’s on her back, staring up at the ceiling beams. “Grandma.”

“Hiroshi.” Kazu doesn’t know what to say. He allows her to squeeze his hand tighter. “My Hiroshi…”

After that, his grandmother doesn’t rise from her bed again. But Kazu rises. Even as his mother grows tired, bags under her eyes as she spends day and night keeping Grandma fed and clean, he rises. He’s almost an adult and why should he stay in the house, locked away as the family secret when there will be monuments built in Lord Kimura’s image, the names of his guardians etched into stone? Ninomiya Hiroshi, a hero. His son may still be empty, may still be nothing in the eyes of the temple, but why does it matter? The Calm is here again.

Since nobody has seen him in ages, nobody bats an eye when he climbs the wall and heads out into the Odawara streets. There is drinking and dancing, and the repression and quiet that has characterized the better part of the last year has vanished.

He’s underage but nobody turns him away at the tavern so long as he has mon to spend. He’s grown up small, pale and thin from a lack of activity and a lack of sunshine. He probably won’t get any taller, but the tavern crowd don’t seem to mind. Songs from happier days fall from their lips, and when someone is too drunk to play the shamisen, Kazu volunteers. He plays for hours, the drinks keep coming, and the neighborhood hails Lord Takuya of House Kimura and the five guardians who accompanied him into darkness. When a cheer goes up for Ninomiya Hiroshi, Kazu doesn’t hesitate to join in, playing another tune as the dancing grows more frenzied.

At some point they’ve given him so much sake that he has to go into the alleyway to be sick, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. A girl, maybe a few years older than him, is facing the same difficulty one building over. Kazu forgets the tavern, and as a burst of fireworks light up the sky over Odawara, he takes the girl’s hand and they walk together to the well near his house. Somehow they’re of a similar mind, and as soon as they’ve had some water, have cleaned their mouths, he lets her kiss him.

He’s never done this before, although sometimes when he’s been on his neighbor’s wall at night he’s been able to look into other houses. He’s seen and heard what love can be. It’s not love right now with this girl he doesn’t know, but it doesn’t matter because he’s not inside a piss-smelling house with the mother who even to this day won’t meet his eyes.

The girl seems pleased when he turns them and takes charge, pushing her back against the old stone of the well. He’s of a height with her, a scrawny thing who hasn’t been out of the house this long in almost eight years. He kisses her, again and again, fingers scraping up and down the fabric of her yukata. The Calm is here, the Calm is here, and Wakoku is safe again. She wants to take it further, tries to grab his hand and take him somewhere but he can only blush and say no. Instead of being angry, she kisses his cheek and bids him farewell. He somehow knows that in a city as large as Odawara he’ll never see her again.

He slumps down against the well, the stone poking into his back. He touches his lips, swollen from the first kisses of his life, and smiles until the tears start to fall. For his father, for his mother and grandmother. For himself. The Calm is here, but no matter how happy he thinks he feels, he can only remember the priest’s words. Empty. Nothing. Empty. Nothing. Empty. Nothing. Because he knows that the nightmares won’t stop, the nightmares that have plagued him since the age of 10. The dreams where he’s blind, where he knows that his eyes have gone pitch black. Tsumi comes, Tsumi goes. Odawara carries on, but it takes only a split second to travel back to that day, the scent of incense, the shift in the priest’s voice when he awoke.

His eyes had turned black.

Empty.

Nothing.

-

The skies over Heiankyo lit up with the largest batch of fireworks Nino had seen yet. “Show offs,” he grumbled, earning a chuckle from Ohno-san at his side.

They had dinner outside in the grass, looking down over the city. Ohno-san had earned enough in his labors to equal one golden ryō, a true accomplishment. Nino, feeling generous, decided that Ohno had earned himself a day off. He’d put Sho to work that day instead, cleaning out the cart shed since a few families of mice had settled in and dirtied the place. During the Calm, Nino’s carts were rented constantly, dragged north to Sekijuku Temple at the midway point between his place and Mikawa. Travelers making the trip the other way took the carts back with them thanks to an arrangement Nino had brokered with the priests there.

Sho had not shown much interest in Nino’s business deals, instead spending his entire day whining about a few hours of manual labor. Over the past few weeks, Nino had divulged hardly anything about himself but had learned a great deal about Sakurai Sho and his companion.

Ohno’s parents had labored for the Sakurai family and before them Ohno’s grandparents and great-grandparents had. But since Sho and Ohno had been born close together in time, they’d grown up side-by-side, the former with his scrolls and the family reputation to uphold, the latter with firm loyalty and an odd sense of humor. Despite living in luxury, Sho had bottomless respect for Ohno, a man who was far from his social equal. In return, Ohno used that privileged position to keep Sho grounded. Already Ohno had laughed in Sho’s face that evening upon discovering he’d spent the day cleaning up mice poop at Nino’s command.

Sho, who was particular about most things, went to bed at his usual time even with the fireworks display, the light from Heiankyo stretching out over the foothills. “Where are you going?” Nino asked him, even though he knew the answer.

“This is when I sleep,” Sho answered haughtily, heading back for the shop.

Sakurai Sho’s days were heavily regimented, even in this odd period between his Heiankyo life and the pilgrimage ahead of him. While many nobles and wealthy types easily and eagerly slid into indolence, into lazy days spent counting their coins, Sho valued his time and pursued a range of hobbies with gusto. He was a scholar of sacred texts. He managed his father’s accounts. He had even traveled before, heading south to Sanyo and some of the southern cities in his father’s place during a Calm.

Even though his parents had removed him from the temple’s guidance as a child, he kept up with the mental training, setting aside time each day to properly meditate and ensured he got a certain number of hours’ rest no matter what. He trained his muscles, believing that a strong body was needed to keep up with a strong mind. Nino woke often to find Sho, still occasionally sore at the midsection, doing sit-ups in the middle of the shop, working through the pain until he’d reached his target goal.

“No matter what Sho-kun does, he does it until it knocks him out,” Ohno admitted, explaining that Sho’s passion for doing things perfectly was probably what had driven him to go on pilgrimage. “He watched them go, Sin Eater parties, and he’d tell me he’d do it better, that he’d plan it all out, that he’d be the one to defeat Tsumi for good because he’d be the best prepared Sin Eater there ever was.”

“And then the two of you leave Heiankyo in the dead of night with not much more than the clothes on your backs,” Nino pointed out, grinning. “What happened to his grand plan?”

Ohno smiled. His smile was calm and gentle, his demeanor almost the polar opposite of Sakurai’s hot-headed fervor. “His parents wanted him to get married. Not too many married Sin Eaters running around, right? It changed his timetable quite a bit.”

“Is he celibate or something?”

“No,” Ohno said before stifling a laugh. “But you should have seen the girl they wanted him to marry.”

“Ugly?”

“Beautiful!” Ohno replied, taking another long swig of the sake Nino had generously offered as part of the man’s break from work. Flush with alcohol, he was far chattier than usual, not relying on Nino to carry the conversation for once. “Ridiculously beautiful. A union of two powerful families, you know how that goes. He knew if he married her that he’d miss his chance, that he’d never get the courage to go. Sho-kun and commitment go hand and hand.”

“And you went with him. Why didn’t you try and talk him out of it? It sounds like you’re the only person he actually listens to.”

He heard Ohno’s sigh float over on the breeze. “He’s the smartest person I know, but he can be so damn stupid.”

Nino couldn’t understand it, not really. Caring about someone that much. He couldn’t understand caring about someone so much you’d go east with them to face certain death. “Do you believe the stories about the guardians? That they’re stuck in Yomi, that they can’t escape?”

Ohno shrugged. “That was part of Sho-kun’s plan too. That he was going to find a way around that, to send me back. He said he wouldn’t let me die.”

“He’s crazy!” Nino laughed, looking over to see that Ohno wasn’t laughing with him this time.

“I trust him,” Ohno said quietly, glassy eyed as he looked at the skies over Heiankyo. “He trusts me with his life, so I trust him with mine.”

-

The Sin Eater with all the fireworks and fanfare strolled past Nino’s shop the next day. Sixteen guardians went with him, some priest’s nephew from south in Sanyo. Lord Shingo of House Murakami, Ohno explained later. He’d been long-distance friends with Sho, their fathers owning dozens of trading boats together that traveled to and from Heiankyo. As soon as they’d seen the massive party, Sho and Ohno had gone upstairs to hide in Nino’s living quarters. Between the shame of being so close to town and having shirked his familial duties, Sho wasn’t interested in Shingo finding him. Though they were rather stuck on themselves and on the overpriced equipment they’d picked up in Heiankyo, Lord Shingo’s guardians brought news along.

“Tsumi’s been up and down the southern coast for a month,” one of the guardians had said. “Sanyo got hit hard.”

“Almost missed the ride up here entirely,” another explained. “Hundreds dead. The bodies were just floating in the harbor…”

The Inland Sea was the fastest route from the southern islands to Heiankyo and the Tokaido. Some had tried to take the sea route as far north as Odawara, but between the strong currents and the constant threat of Tsumi’s wrath, few bothered. It was dangerous enough at sea in the Calm. Sho’s father must have owned quite a few trade boats if he was still making money. Going between Sanyo, the largest settlement of the south, and Heiankyo was a necessary risk if Sin Eaters from the south wanted to go on pilgrimage.

“Lord Shingo surely strengthened his abilities in Sanyo,” another guardian related, “but it came at such cost.”

Sanyo had been hit. Hundreds dead, even in the largest and wealthiest city south of Heiankyo. Where would Tsumi strike next? Had any Sin Eaters made it to the Nihonbashi yet? When would it end?

“Can’t dwell on those things,” Ohno said as soon as Lord Shingo’s party had passed on to start the long journey east.

Nino looked out across the valley, the ribbon of the river passing under the Sanjo Ohashi and the sea closer than it had ever seemed. As the days passed and the sun shone, Heiankyo seemed as safe as anywhere. And yet the reports kept coming, faster and more devastating than the last. Four boats sunk halfway between Sanyo and Heiankyo, all hands lost. A village on one of the Inland Sea’s islands, wiped out in minutes. Tsumi spotted ashore a mere fifty miles southwest of the Heiankyo walls. The closest in a decade.

The growing unease had quieted the fireworks down. The lights of Heiankyo dimmed and vanished earlier each night. Tsumi had always been a reality, an expectation, but there was a particular viciousness to this cycle. Punishment, the priests were probably shouting at temples up and down the coast. This is our punishment. But what had they done to deserve this?

It would mean more guilt trips for the Sin Eaters who still hadn’t ventured out. Ready or not, some villages would start to push. They’d ignore their own needs, their own absolution, to rush young Sin Eaters out on the road. They could send an entire army of Sin Eaters on the Tokaido, but it wouldn’t matter. Wakoku was cursed, and Tsumi’s defeat was a growing illusion. Safety, the Calm itself, was in increasingly short supply. At the rate the cycle was going, Tsumi would be back in less than two years. How long before it became a year? A handful of months? Days?

Work on the Heiankyo walls increased, and Ohno returned to the shop each night with tears in his eyes. He fell asleep in moments, nearly landing in his soup some nights. Sho took Nino aside, begged him to reconsider their situation. Begged him to let them leave.

“You could have left at any time,” Nino pointed out, counting his coins without looking up. “Guardian with a sword and a Sin Eater against a shopkeep’s an easy fight.”

Sho had found nothing to say in reply. Perhaps he hadn’t even considered leaving. He was much too honorable for that, it seemed.

Nino had planted the seed at least. Maybe the two of them would go, and Nino could have peace and quiet once more. No traipsing through the tall grass to maybe absolve a fruit bat. No sharing his food or his chamber pot. The sooner they left the better, he told himself. The longer they stayed, worming their way into his mind, the more likely he was to mourn them. Because they’d die, surely they would die. Whether it was the long, harsh Tokaido or the even lonelier road to the Nihonbashi where only fools and the brave ventured, they would die.

And Nino wouldn’t be able to forget. He’d be stuck with that first terrible night over and over, Sho’s blood staining his floor and Ohno’s panicked cries. The scene would repeat itself. Instead of his floor it would be the open road. Sho’s wounds wouldn’t stitch, and Ohno would have a few of his own. They’d end up like so many others, with nobody to catch them as they fell. Nobody in miles to send their spirits to rest. They’d come back, unrecognizable, and they’d roam until they were able to die again. A fate he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.

After so long the nightmares came back, blindness and the unknown, and this time he didn’t wake to an empty room. He couldn’t reassure himself with the fixtures of his room, the solid walls of his shop. This time when he woke, Sho had climbed up the ladder and Ohno had followed behind.

“Nino,” Sho was saying, trying to shake him awake. “Nino, what’s wrong?”

“I had a bad dream,” he grumbled, trying to play tough but unable to hide the chill to his skin, the tears in his eyes.

“Must have been a bad one,” Ohno said, seeing right through the act.

“I dreamed that I was robbed,” he lied. “All my hard-earned money gone.”

Sho rolled his eyes. “That would be a nightmare for someone like you.” With that, the Sin Eater got to his feet, chuckling to himself. It took a moment before Ohno turned to head back for the ladder. Nino wondered how long Ohno had known that there was more to him than the greedy shopkeep act.

part three