Chapter Four

Now He Sees It

(Part 1 of 2)

 

"Speak... what?"

Nekohiko's mind was empty. Though speech didn't require any energy or effort from him, it also felt like each word cost him too much. He shut his eyes, distraught.

When he opened them again, Kataji put a shaking hand to his forehead. He fixed Nekohiko with a heavy stare. "Spirits, so you actually can talk. Insane, this is insane. What do you want from me? Do I need to do something? How does this work, exactly?"

...

"I'm afraid you are mistaking me for somebody else," Nekohiko said carefully.

Kataji dropped his hands. "You are a Spirit or a Demon haunting a log. Trust me, I don't know many others to mix any of you up," he added louder. "I mean, you obviously had a reason for the haunting, and you clearly want to communicate with us humans, so... why? What do you want from any of us... oh mighty spirit?"

Nekohiko started to argue, but Kataji interrupted, still not done. "Also, what will I gain from helping you?"

Nekohiko's eyes flickered to the kiln when a particularly fiery cloud of ember dust erupted from the slits in the grate. He had no time or desire to play misunderstanding games with Kataji while in this damned place. When a tremor ran through him, even Kataji could see it. He pressed both his palms against Nekohiko as if afraid Nekohiko would roll onto him.

Exactly! Nekohiko thought, -- if he truly wanted, he could crush this annoying young man before him with his sheer weight. Probably not to death, but enough to hurt. The realization didn't do much for him, though.

This was the first person he met who seemed to care about him even a little.

"I'm scared," he told Kataji, dead-honest. "Please take me out of here -- anywhere."

"Is that all you want from me? Or..."

"I don't want to die," Nekohiko murmured. "Please, I can't die -- not again. Not like this... Please."

Emotions flickered across Kataji's face -- disbelief, fear, doubt. Then finally pity. He reached out to pat Nekohiko's side, half-turning to his Bound Servants who stood by the kiln as numb and patient as furniture.

"You!" he ordered the six dummies, his fingers clicking toward Nekohiko. "Carry this out."

As the six clumsily picked him up and tried to maneuver out of the room, the very first bump into the edge of the doorframe made Nekohiko gasp in pain. Speaking of which -- what part of him hadn't been hit or cracked by now?

"Careful!" Kataji told the dummies, then squeezed past Nekohiko to the door and held its frame to somewhat free the way.

The waving heat still hummed behind, but gradually, the dummies were moving Nekohiko away from it. First, the thin strands of sun rays peeked into the dim hallway from beyond the window shutters. Then the whole well of light opened up before Nekohiko's stunned eyes as Kataji led him and the Servants out of the building.

It was a luminous day outside. A crisp, radiant afternoon, so awash with the twittering of the birds and the breeze rustling through the grass and the tree branches, Nekohiko found himself breathless. He could only blink out into the world he'd believed he would never see again. Without him knowing, his drawn lips curved up in a tremulous smile.

Kataji gave him an even bigger frown. "You... you like it?" He also took in the view that, to him, must have seemed rather mundane. He knelt before Nekohiko again. "I thought your tears were frightening, but your smile is even more so. It looks so... creepy. Could you not? Forgive me for hurrying you, Spirit, but what exactly is your goal in the world of the living?"

The small straw-lined yard in front of the firing kiln building might not be the most inspiring place to see, but Nekohiko simply couldn't stop. The buildings surrounding it were all simple wooden or stone workshops and storage rooms of some kind. From beyond the gates to this area, Nekohiko saw only a glimpse of the bigger estate, lush with greenery and glimmer over the colorful shingles of residential building roofs. Judging by the appearance of this place and by Kataji's refined clothes, Nekohiko didn't doubt this family was a wealthy one. Maybe not prominent enough to afford newer models of Bound Servants or better Spirit magic to power them with, but nobility nonetheless.

How much could people of such standing help someone like Nekohiko? More than that -- they were clearly crafters, and were bound to serve the Emperor himself. If he were to tell the truth, what would be the odds that this Kataji person wouldn't change his mind again and burn Nekohiko down?

But at the same time, Nekohiko wasn't very versed in the Spirit hauntings of this caliber. Back in his school days, he and his classmates hunted down Feral Spirits or ones that were resentful to such a degree, they wreaked havoc around them and ruined lives. Small, domestic Spirits weren't his area of knowledge. He didn't even know enough to pretend like he was one. 

"I'm not a Spirit," he said, hesitant. "To be honest with you, I don't know what I am. Therefore, I don't have any goals in the world of the living. But I'm... happy to be here if that means anything to you. So thank you."

Kataji balked. "For what?"

"For not burning me or chopping me with an axe. I... appreciate that."

A faint color crept over the edges of Kataji's ears as he turned aside, uneasy. "If you don't know what you are," he said, "how come you're so certain you're not a Spirit? You're a talking, blinking, weeping tree log. What else are you if not a malevolent Spirit come here to trick mortals?"

"Trust me, I'm as baffled as you are." From all the intense grimacing with his barely-doodled eyes, Nekohiko sensed some loss of vision. The ash-lines of his eyes had begun flaking off, as did his mouth. "As you can see... I'm not exactly in good shape right now."

"Little wonder." Kataji rummaged inside his sleeve and pulled a decent-looking graphite stick out. He leaned over and began fixing up Nekohiko's eyes and lipline.

It tickled.

"But I was a human before I was murdered," Nekohiko said to distract himself from the unbearable tickling sensation. "A normal human just like you."

Kataji was startled. "Murdered? Oh Spirits! How?"

"My best friend slit my throat with a dagger I gave him for his fifteenth birthday."

Aghast, the young man sucked in air. "That... that is just vile! Some best friend you had. You must really, really want to take revenge on him then? Is that your goal in this life?"

Well. Kinda. But...

No way was he telling this nervous young man. He had already been punished for trusting others too much. Never again.

"It's been five years since my death, and you're the first person to ask. So far, I'm just overwhelmed." Nekohiko swept his renewed eyes left and right to absorb all the beautiful scenery and sunlight glow bouncing off the water puddles in the old pathwalk through the yard while he still could. "This world is so magnificent; I've never really paid attention."

Kataji's eyes took an inspired air. "I see. Ah, you must have suffered so much. You probably want to find your relatives or friends now. If I can help you do anything about that, then--"

Heavens. He hadn't thought about it yet.

Ah, but it hurt to think about this. Hurt so badly. Only made sense why he hadn't tried before.

"I don't have any surviving relatives. Or friends," Nekohiko said.

Kataji winced, ill at ease. "Did you... have a name? Something I can call you?"

Yes. Wakayamato Nekohiko Obibi no Sumeramikoto. Or the Supreme Divine Emperor for short.

But how can one say that to a complete stranger without being laughed at? Plus, if anyone knew his name already, then deducing his murderer from that wouldn't be any trouble. His only choice was to...

"Itsuki¹樹 is a real name, and it means "Spring Trees", so he is trying to make puns, I guess.," Nekohiko lied.

With an appreciative hum, Kataji accepted the name. He pulled away from Nekohiko to thoroughly appraise his work on Nekohiko's new face. "Well, Itsuki, do want me to draw you a nose, too?"

A log with a nose shouldn't be that much more ridiculous than a log with eyes, mouth, and an ear, should it?

The wind rolled down the mountain grasses, bringing in scents of wildflowers and raw brooks and the creaking sounds of eerie pine forest from further away. The afternoon languidly passed into the golden hour when every color of the world seemed to brighten up to the point when one's heart simply couldn't take it anymore. The most gorgeous of day's hours.

Kataji ordered his Bound dummies to prop Nekohiko vertically in the middle of the garden so that he could see above the garden walls of Kataji's family estate. To the rising ark of the cliffs in the distance and to the gentle valley and forest glades spread in between. To the graceful facade of the main building of the estate and the twinkling wind chimes that hanged off every sill, filling the day with nostalgic, silvery music.

Kataji's family was incredibly wealthy. Now Nekohiko couldn't stop himself from wondering about their relationship with the Emperor.

Though he clearly had no lungs to breathe with, Nekohiko didn't let this bizarre paradox stop him. He drew deep breaths, enjoying himself to the fullest. Coastal wind enfolded Nekohiko into its embrace, and Nekohiko inhaled through his new nose -- all the myriads of smells in the air. They were in the center of a flower garden, after all, and Kataji's Great Aunt had such a keen nose for the most fragrant blossoms.

From across the rolling hills in the distance, a faint outline of a colossal Spirit of the wilds strode over the treetops and the tiny farmhouses sprinkled in between. A shape of a sika deer², maybe, or a serow³. A sacred, native Spirit roaming its domain.

Nekohiko couldn't help but follow with his eyes the palest traces of that Spirit across the horizon, instantly relieved that he still possessed the ability to see Spirits. Did it mean he still had some of his Spiritway powers as well? In a log form?

Too bad it was impossible to check, with him having no hands and all.

On the contrary, Kataji didn't seem aware of the giant Spirit wandering about. Most people couldn't see them. It proved how normal Kataji and his family must be, only knowing enough to be slightly superstitious.

Kataji contemplated him from a few steps away. "...which part of the Empire you say you were from?"

He'd occasionally asked Nekohiko random questions from Nekohiko's past. Most of them Nekohiko had dismissed, excusing himself with the loss of memory he supposedly suffered after dying, but some he felt pretty certain he could answer truthfully.

"Washu⁴Around modern day Nara prefecture.," Nekohiko said, and Kataji ahh-ed as though realizing something⁵Since Nara is a fancy big city, he probably realized Nekohiko was a fancy city boy..

"And how old were you when you died? You sound very young to me," he said. Then suddenly squinted. "And also male. Are you?"

Very young? You... how dare you, Nekohiko sighed. I was probably older when I died than you are now. In life experience if not years.

"Sixteen," he answered. "And yes, I am male."

"Ah, dear Itsuki, so you are younger than me." Kataji broke out into a lordly smile and sauntered over. His arm half-hugged Nekohiko's wooden body. "Like a little brother I never had. You know, I've always wanted to have one. When I was little, I even tried to carve one out of the first-rate pearl oak transported here all the way from the Middle Country⁶Traditional name of China, obviously. And the present name of China in Japan even nowadays., and even there it had been imported from the lands in the deep west. Ah, you should have seen that log -- forgive me for frankness, but it was even more exquisite than you. Its grain so fine and smooth..."

His excitement was palpable as he broke off into a tangent about wood quality and specifics of different varieties. Nekohiko lost his train of thought only after a few sentences because all this wood-related information sounded like utter gibberish to him.

"But it didn't work out," Kataji ended, pensive. "You know how wooden dummies are..."

With displeasure, he threw a look over to some of the Bound Servants doing chores in the estate's garden or around the house.

A chill of trepidation crept through Nekohiko's body.

"Wait, you want to make a... dummy out of me?"

"Huh? No. Not really." Kataji pondered a moment. "May I, though?"

...!

"I don't want to be a dummy!"

With a confused crinkle on his pale forehead, Kataji sized Nekohiko up and down. "What do you want to be then? A table? A bookshelf? I mean... I don't believe you have many potential forms to choose from."

Nekohiko hadn't counted on acquiring a sympathetic party so fast in this wretched existence. He hadn't come up with a specific way to find where that scum Abihiko was now, and how exactly he wanted to take his revenge by murdering him. Now that Kataji put it like this... did Nekohiko truly have any choice of a form he could assume to achieve his goals?

"But a dummy..." Nekohiko cringed with dread. "A human dummy is such a creepy, disturbing thing to be."

"Then you're in luck!" Kataji laughed nervously. "I told you already -- I'm not very skilled with crafting human dummies anyway. I'm only really good at carving small animals like squirrels or foxes or rabbits, so..."

"Human dummy sounds fine." Nekohiko felt bad for rejecting Kataji's offer outright, but he had a goal. A destiny to pursue. Wearing a form of a squirrel while doing that wasn't something he looked forward to. "I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize. I knew you'd say that." Kataji indeed didn't act dejected at all. Only slightly too eager for Nekohiko's liking as the young man gave him another stiff smile. "Am I not always right about these things? You're incredibly lucky you met me, and not someone else, mm?"

Honestly? Yeah. Nekohiko wouldn't call this meeting as anything other than lucky. But it wasn't his nature to fraternize with others easily, and so he couldn't agree with Kataji straight away.

He cleared his throat politely. "It has been quite an important day for me, yes. Thank you."

"Ah, don't even say." And Kataji nudged him with his shoulder.

He must have not measured his strength right because, from this small nudge, the entire log of Nekohiko's body tilted backward. With an earth-quaking clamor, it crashed to the ground. But him being round, he didn't stay in place. From the tumble, he rolled over. And over, like a barrel.

Dizziness and nausea took hold of him as the world spun before his eyes. But louder than the slam of the earth into his ear was the shriek Kataji made.

"Auntie's iris flowerbeds!" Kataji cried. "You're trampling them all! Stop it! Stop it now!"

Nekohiko only slowed down when Kataji grabbed him, draping both his arms and legs over Nekohiko's sides. The young man's weight wasn't much, but as his boots dug into the ground to stop Nekohiko from rolling further, the two finally came to a halt.

Kataji's breath was heavy, and his growls from between his gritted teeth very menacing. "Do you bring destruction everywhere you go? Are you absolutely sure you're not a Demonic Spirit?"

"To be fair, I am incapable to go anywhere. If I bring destruction, it's because of others pushing me, not myself." Nekohiko's voice rang. Was he seriously blamed for any of today's messes? No justice to this world, was there? Then again, he didn't want to snap at his only ally and acquaintance. "I'm sorry for inconveniencing you and your family, Kataji. I don't mean to."

The momentum of his spin still caused him to roll on slowly, so Kataji didn't let go of him. He straddled Nekohiko like he would a horse to keep him in place and leaned over to check that Nekohiko's face hadn't been wiped off during the crash.

"There is flower and grass dye all over your grain. It will take me hours to clean you," he mumbled as he scratched Nekohiko's sides to peel smashed stalks and petals off. The sensation was extremely unpleasant, but Nekohiko didn't want to tell that to Kataji. "There are some deep cracks in you, too. And so many chipped corners. You really need a lot of grooming to survive till you can be carved into anything manageable..."

His long black hair brushed Nekohiko when Kataji bent down to examine Nekohiko's opposite side. The more Nekohiko looked at this young man, the more his soul stirred with pained memories. Even the way Kataji leaned on him evoked a strange nostalgia. Where had it come from?

Why was this so familiar if he'd never met Kataji before?

"Elder Brother, what was that awful noise just now--"

Nekohiko's eyes snapped toward the voice of a young girl. His nonexistent insides clenched in fear.

"Wait." It was Kataji's young sister, Aomi. A slim figure in somber, dramatically-hued robes, with only pale flowers in her hair livening up her grim appearance. She looked more poised and clean compared to the last time he'd seen her.

She stilled a few steps away, palms drawn up before her chest as though guarding against a treacherous attack. "That's the same damn log, Kataji? You haven't gotten rid of it yet?"