~~~

As with most of Shinano Province, the scenery alongside the road to Suwa was a mix of pine greens and aqua blues, with splashes of smooth white on the nearby mountain slopes.

If they’d walked it a month earlier, it would have been blanket white all around, and the surface of the river they were walking beside may even have frozen over, but that was the past, before all the demon madness, and Miho and Aya were now happily in the present.

Well, almost.

Miho had noticed that, in the two kilometres since they’d left the izakaya-stroke-ryokan, Aya had spent most of her time either staring down at the path or staring down and to the right at the river.

Her face wasn’t despondent, exactly, but it did feel like there was something wrong. Maybe lack of sleep from the last two nights? Or the instinctive sense that Miho had been thinking of her, briefly, drunkenly, in a beyond-friendship kind of way?

Whatever the reason, it evaporated into the chilled morning air on the third kilometre of their journey as they came across a human-shaped lump on the road ahead.

‘Keep walking…’ said Aya, after Miho had nudged her out of her river-dream and pointed out the obstacle.

‘They might be injured.’

‘Us too, if we stop and help them.’

‘Huh? I don’t understand.’

‘Don’t bother trying to, just keep walking, Miho. Don’t look at them. In fact, we should go closer to the riverbank, put a bit of distance between it and us.’

Miho didn’t want to repeat himself, but he still didn’t understand. The lump was about ten metres in front of them now and still not moving. Just like Akira had been a few days earlier. Or a week earlier. Whenever it was. And if he had just kept walking then, what would have happened to the poor ashigaru who…had left them the night before in a drunken state and…not been that nice to Aya before that…or anyone really, to tell the truth.

‘The riverbank,’ said Aya, almost like a command.

Miho looked over and saw that she’d already made the curved adjustment, and slipped a small knife into the grip of her left hand.

Was it that serious?

He tried to work it out quickly in his head, taking into account his innate naivety [which he was still trying to shake off] and the potential deviousness of strangers.

It was a short road to Suwa, about five kilometres, and not too close to the mountains. If it were bandits, they were being uncharacteristically bold. If it were a freelancer, even more bold as they’d have to assume most people would travel in pairs or groups.

What else?

The shrine nearby…maybe a kilometre further down the path and turn west. That’s what Reiko had told them. It would have to be a truly fearless bandit group that would set a trap so close to a place of spiritual judgment. And from what River Bitch had said, those monks could fight too. Viciously.

‘Miho…’ shouted Aya, snapping him back to the path.

But not soon enough.

There was a groan from below as something whacked against his foot. He looked down and muttered kuso, as the lump’s arm flailed again, this time striking him on the back of the calf.

‘Wah, what are you doing here?’ he yelled, bending down to inspect Akira’s yukata for signs of assault. ‘Aya, it’s Akira, he’s been attacked.’

‘Keep walking,’ she muttered to herself, picking up a loose rock and flinging it into the river.

‘Get over here, bring the water flask.’

‘Yes, meijin.’

Picking up another pebble and attempting to grind it into dust with her bare hand, she slipped the knife that was still in her other hand back into her belt and replaced it with the flask from her bag.

‘What happened?’ asked Miho, lifting Akira up into a sitting position and doing another check of his yukata. Apart from a few dirt marks and one long tear under the armpit, it seemed to be undamaged. ‘Did someone attack you?’

‘Mist demon…’

‘Wah! The same one?’

‘…disguised as a tree.’

‘Huh?’

‘…with incredible legs.’

‘I think he’s delirious,’ said Miho as Aya arrived and, without looking, threw the flask down onto Akira’s stomach.

‘Hungover, more like.’

‘Ah, my favourite grouch…’ said Akira, grabbing the flask and holding it to his lips. And holding it. And holding it. And tilting it. And then pulling it back and shaking out the last few drops. ‘Ah, that’s better.’

‘You drank the whole flask?’ asked Miho, grabbing it back and holding it upside down. ‘That was supposed to be for all of us.’

Aya threw the pebble [that wasn’t dust] onto the path and spat on it. ‘That’s what happens when you give anything to an ashigaru. You get nothing back. Except maybe a threat of violence.’

‘Stop whining…there’s a lake just over there.’ Akira raised his arm and pointed the wrong way towards the slopes. ‘And a river right here.’

‘Why don’t you go in it,’ replied Aya, walking off down the path.

‘I might…’ Akira shouted after her, using Miho’s shoulder to pull himself up onto his feet. ‘Gods in heat, she’s abrasive this morning.’

‘You did just drink all our water.’

‘Where are we anyway? Last thing I remember I was on the path to Suwa…and it kind of looks like it’s the same one…’

‘It is. I think we’re about another three kilometres from the main town.’

‘Ah, so she didn’t carry me…’

‘Who didn’t?’

Akira’s eyes ballooned suddenly, his hands going to his belt and fumbling underneath his yukata. Then, he stopped just as abruptly, closing his eyes and muttering, ‘demon fucking shōchū.’

‘Someone took your money?’ guessed Miho, looking down to the path to the already receding figure of Aya.

‘Ah, well, easy come, easy vanish. Yes, someone took it…a sexy belt merchant who apparently lived in Suwa.’

‘Belt merchant?’

‘Save the confused cat face for later. Surly girl over there is our only source of finance now, can’t let her run off on us.’

Akira pushed out his shoulder blades and hit his lower back with his right fist, then grunted in satisfaction and walked off…the first ten, twenty metres in an erratic zig-zag pattern…then something a little more stable as he slotted in beside Aya and asked if she’d had a good night’s sleep.

‘Better without you nearby.’

‘No insomnia?’

‘None.’

Miho caught up in time to hear the last line and opened his mouth to say, hang on, you didn’t come back to the room last night…but something inside, perhaps a nascent sense of intuition, put a gag on it, telling him to focus on the scenery instead.

~~~

As predicted, Suwa wasn’t much further along, and with Aya leading with a dynamic pace, they arrived at the town’s welcome sign in less than half an hour.

Within a framed shot, the place appeared almost identical to Uehara; the same type of buildings, the same river running through the middle, the same font on the izakaya signs. The only discernible difference was the giant lake looming in the background, and perhaps a few extra ashigaru patrolling the streets.

That made sense as the castle was only a few hundred metres to the right, on the east side of Lake Suwa. The central base of the Suwa Clan, allied to the larger Murakami Clan further north, whose daimyō was in turn a close retainer of the notorious Uesugi Clan in Echigo. That’s where the chain stopped…though, in truth, there was no real sturdiness to it anymore. When ashigaru could murder their lords on a whim, and claim their domains with only the flimsiest of excuses, nothing was sacred.

The trio of unlikely travelling companions continued down the main road, checking out the festival stalls set up next to the river, picking up ugly-looking charms and fir tree talismans whenever a group of ashigaru walked past and pretending to show interest. Then throwing them back down again, when the danger had passed.

‘Superstitious trash,’ whispered Akira, holding up one particular item that looked like a purple octopus.

‘You don’t believe in this?’ asked Miho, checking out a pocket-sized fir tree with good times painted on its trunk.

‘In what? Fantasies made up by ancient lunatics who thought the four islands came out of some god’s fanny?’

‘You’re disgusting…’ said Aya, handing a coin to a woman and getting a wrapping of seaweed strips in return.

‘Don’t blame me, I didn’t write it.’

‘It is partially true though…’ said Miho, unconsciously stepping between Aya and Akira, with the fir tree still in his hand. ‘I mean, we almost got eaten by a demon. And there was that purple mist woman too. And the-…’ Miho paused, that intuition voice inside his head pulling him back again. Don’t mention the yellow guy. Don’t mention the yellow guy. ‘The portal in the cave, Himiko’s arm.’

‘Two separate things.’

‘Are they?’

‘Those demons were real, tangible. This shit isn’t.’ Akira dropped the pink octopus talisman onto the pile of replicas and wiped his hands. ‘Now, who’s for getting off this Hell street?’

Aya sucked on a seaweed strip and stared at Miho. Feeling sudden pressure, he looked further down the path and saw about five hundred more stalls of festival trash. Was that the way to the exit? He had no idea. It could lead them to Suwa castle, and that wasn’t a good thing, certainly not for Akira.

‘Okay, I’ll assume that we’re all in favour,’ said Akira, patting Miho on the shoulder and shaking his head at the fir tree. ‘Obviously we want to avoid the castle, so east is out of the question. Which leaves the west side road. More likely to have those oddball monks and psychics…as it’s nearer to the shrine…but they’re mostly harmless. I suggest we find a small ryokan on the north side of the lake, get an early night, then start off on the Kyoto road in the morning.’

‘I can’t…’ said Miho, slouching his shoulders and causing Akira’s hand to slide off. ‘Yuki is further north somewhere.’

‘Okay, north for you. No problem. We’ll just call it even on the life-saving thing, as, technically, I did guide you here safely.’

‘I suppose.’

‘Good. Aya-chan?’

‘Don’t call me that.’

‘Fine. Prune face?’

‘What?’

‘Joking. You don’t look like a prune. I just thought it was synonymous with anger, first thing that popped up. Your face does look a bit sour though.’

‘I’m not going anywhere with you.’

‘Yeah, probably for the best. So, we head to the lake then?’

Both Miho and Aya glanced at each other, half a seaweed strip still hanging out of her mouth, and a pink octopus talisman replacing the fir tree in his right hand.

‘Are you conferring telepathically?’ asked Akira, putting a hand on both their waists and pushing them gently towards a gap in the stalls. ‘The answer is yes, we head to the lake. Unless you wanna wait around here until Aya gets sleazed on by some ashigaru?’

Aya sucked up her seaweed strip and removed Akira’s hand from her waist.

‘See, that was a compliment. You’re worth sleazing on. Not a prune.’

‘I’ll lead,’ she said sharply, walking between the stalls then stopping halfway and turning back. ‘And no more conversation.’

‘Really?’ asked Miho, coming up beside her.

‘That was aimed at him, not you.’

Akira jabbed his temple and moved after them. ‘Suit yourself. My head’s starting to drum anyway.’

~~~

According to local legend [backed by the current Lord Suwa], each side of Lake Suwa had a spiritual significance; the east represented mental control, the south, penance, the north, futurism, and the west, that which was unknown.

Of course, it was too vague and lacking in dogma to really scare anyone physically – there existed no demonic figure rising from watery depths, looking to impale disbelievers on its trident – but it did have an odd effect on the mind.

Which is probably why so many poets and travel writers travelled to the region, and why there were so many on the main road, getting in the way of Aya and raving about the giant fir trees being ushered down from the heavens.

‘Gods, this is ridiculous…’

‘And they’re all writing poetry…’ added Akira, his hand on his katana guard, somehow restraining the urge to start slicing. ‘I can hear them dictating the verses.’

‘What about that path to the left?’ asked Miho, standing on his toes.

‘That leads up the slope, no good.’

‘Then we have to keep going forward?’

Akira shrugged and gestured at Aya, who pushed the shoulder of a poet muttering about the majesty of large, virile trunks and tried to spot accessible gaps in the crowd. Before she could finish her scan, one of the men near the front, possibly an official, got up on a box and shouted that the fir tree descent would be delayed as there had been a fatality.

The crowd booed and parted a little.

Then parted a lot, half of them running onto the grass to the right, heading vaguely towards the lake.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Miho, trying to see past the giant man in front of him.

‘Not sure,’ said Aya, quietly.

After a few seconds, the giant man swiped a hand through the air and called something a scam then moved off, apparently going back along the road to Suwa.

‘Ah, not these clowns,’ said Akira, folding his arms.

‘Who?’

‘Portable Shrine artists.’

Miho looked at Aya, who looked equally confused, then shifted to the path ahead. As far as he could tell, the Portable Shrine artists were the twelve monks standing next to a giant box with grip-rails attached to the side.

‘What are they doing?’

‘Scamming.’

‘Huh? How?’

‘Watch.’

Miho moved a step closer and did as instructed. At first, nothing happened. The twelve monks just stood there, most of them rigid, all in a slightly different pose, while the only one with hair scraped loose specks of something off the box.

‘I don’t get it.’

‘Wait.’

‘Nothing’s happening.’

‘You’ll see.’

Finishing with scrape duty, the monk with hair - very wild, very orange hair - cleared his throat and shouted in a surprisingly harmonious tone that the curse was airborne and the spirits were getting tired of waiting.

Apparently, that had some kind of meaning to the locals, as they started to amble out of the nearby shacks and artisan trade shops, dropping coins in a smaller box that Miho hadn’t noticed earlier, with one or two of them calling the monk with orange hair a rat motherfucker right to his face.

‘What are they buying?’ asked Miho.

‘Nothing,’ replied Akira, adding a grunt after it and walking forward. ‘Come on, let’s go…before I vomit.’

‘You’re the one who told us to watch,’ said Miho, frowning.

‘A mistake on my part.’

‘Thought he would feel kinship with them,’ whispered Aya into Miho’s ear, before putting her fist into his back and nudging him forward.

‘Hey…’

‘Sorry, but I need a shield, in case these monks-…’

Aya stopped exactly the same time as the monk with orange hair put a long wooden staff out to block Akira.

‘Donation,’ he barked.

‘Move the stick,’ replied the ashigaru, his hand not even bothering to reach for his katana guard.

‘Same rules for everyone, old man. Donate or the box stays.’

‘Do I look like I live here?’

‘I’m sorry, let me clarify. You have entered the box’s sphere of influence. House or not, shop or not, poet, merchant or rogue, you cannot move on until we have received a donation.’

‘You’re starting to irritate me,’ said Akira, finally putting fingers on his belt.

‘Ah, a fool who would risk the curse…’

‘Cheap scam theatrics…’

‘I believe the last one I encountered is still at the bottom of Lake Suwa. Cheap what?’

‘You heard.’

Miho took a step forward, not really sure how he was going to mediate, or even if he could get over there in time, and was saved from finding out by a firm pull on the arm by Aya.

‘You’ll get cursed too…’ she whispered, glancing at the other eleven monks, who were still standing there, oddly blank, as if their leader wasn’t about to have his head lopped off.

‘You know, I wasn’t going to kill you…’ said Akira, pulling out his katana. ‘Just wound you a little. But as you keep pushing me…’

‘Drop your katana,’ said the monk with orange hair, his voice altering abruptly to something that sounded like it was trapped in a large cave.

Akira straightened up and dropped the katana.

‘Turn around.’

Without blinking, he turned around.

‘Good. Now walk into the lake.’

There was the briefest hesitation, a small spasm of his right arm, then total compliance as the ashigaru who, seconds earlier, had been ready to cut down an annoying monk, walked casually off the main path, and headed at a steady pace towards Lake Suwa.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Miho to thin air, as Aya walked ahead and dropped two coins into the small donation box.

‘Not enough,’ said the monk with orange hair, his pupils glowing the same colour.

Aya dropped two more, grabbed Miho by the arm and pulled him past the box and along the path ahead.

‘What’s he-…he’s walking to the lake.’

‘Leave him.’

‘Akira,’ Miho shouted, shrugging off Aya’s grip. ‘Where are you going?’

‘He’s hypnotised, we can’t help him.’

‘What?’

‘That monk…’ She glanced back, letting out a grasped kuso when she saw the monk still looking at her. ‘If we try to pull Akira back, or intervene, he’ll kill us.’

Miho shook his head and looked in the same direction as Aya, catching clear sight of the glowing orange eyes. ‘No…another one?’

‘Just keep walking.’

‘Twelve of them?’

‘Miho…’

‘Kuso…’ He turned back, looking at her hand yanking on his yukata sleeve. ‘We can’t just leave him.’

‘No choice.’

‘But he’s…right there.’

‘Come on.’

Aya gave up on the sleeve and slipped her hand into Miho’s, squeezing it lightly and using a softer voice to say, ‘at least get out of sight of the monk first.’

It seemed to work.

Miho made a quick mental map of the terrain and the distance between Akira and the lake, then turned and said, ‘to the next corner.’

‘Okay.’

‘Then we get him.’