Chương 35: Book 1: Chapter 11 - Communications [Part 3]

Then came the memory of the shrine, sharper and considerably worse, where his own hand had moved without permission and a brush had created a seal Noritsuna had never taught him.

"I did not see the face properly until the shrine," Heita finally admitted. Aya waited.

"It passed through Ayanokouji." Her dark eyes moved toward Shimon.

"What did you see?" The young man looked haunted.

"One eye." Shimon stopped breathing for a heartbeat as the brush completed the eye and its monstrous pupil. Recognition came before conscious thought. It was not exact, because a reconstruction filtered through another man's sight and then through an artist's hand could never be exact, but Shimon knew the eye. The thing that had touched him after Yae Ikazuchi. His Spirit Break. The thing that had spoken to him through darkness. The thing that claimed it could open a road home.

Aya added the final strokes and leaned back to study her work. The creature crouched behind the painted Shimon like a stain of darkness that was not meant to be. Its numerous limbs extended around, dividing wherever they overlapped, while a eye looked down from a face otherwise swallowed by darkness. A shudder moved through Shimon before he could stop it, and the miko noticed.

"You know this one," she observed softly, and it was not phrased as a question.

"I have felt it," Shimon admitted. Noritsuna's expression changed, while Heita turned toward him sharply.

"Before the shrine," the young samurai continued.

"At night. I thought it was a dream at first." The priest leaned forward.

"What did it do?"

"It held me down." The remembered pressure made Shimon's shoulders tighten.

"It spoke." Aya's brush remained motionless between her fingers.

"What did it say?" Noritsuna pressed. Shimon looked at the painted eye.

"That it was my friend." For several moments, the only sounds came from water moving through the garden and the hollow knock of the bamboo pipe striking stone. The shrine priest moved closer to the painting without touching it.

"And at the shrine?"

"It helped me… learn something," Ayanokouji said in a tremulous voice. Noritsuna studied the image.

"If Matsunaga has represented its presence correctly, this is no minor household kami, nor some wandering spirit sustained by a forgotten roadside offering. Powerful beings gather around places, lineages, vows, disasters, rivers, mountains, and war. Something of this strength is unlikely to attach itself to one man without purpose." Shimon disliked almost every part of that explanation.

"What purpose?" The older priest regarded him patiently.

"If I understood the purposes of great kami, Ayanokouji-san, I would be a considerably more important priest." Aya lowered her face, but Shimon caught the hint of amusement before she did. He returned his attention to the picture, willing his biochip to store it. [VISUAL ARCHIVE CREATED] Designation: Unknown Entity Reference confidence: Moderate Sources: Direct cognitive event / witness reconstruction Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

AR projection available The designation bothered him. Unknown Entity. The thing had helped him, but Shimon knew that nothing in this world truly came for free. It had given him the Closed Gate, or at least forced the ability upon him. It had intervened when the yōma nearly killed him in the forest. Most importantly, it claimed that it possessed the means to return him home. Perhaps it had brought him here in the first place… Still, classification mattered.

"Change designation." [AWAITING DESIGNATION] Shimon stared into the monstrous eye.

"The Entity. Just Entity" [CONFIRM]"Confirm." [CLASSIFICATION UPDATED] THE ENTITY Behavioral assessment: Unknown / Potentially hostile Prior actions include unauthorized motor control and cognitive intrusion. Prior actions also include provision of anomalous ability and claimed assistance. Recommendation: Maintain caution. Shimon agreed entirely with his technological companion. Logically, he could not simply decide that the Entity was an enemy because it frightened him.

If it possessed the power to return him home, refusing contact without understanding its goals would be foolish. Shimon had spent much of his professional career assessing uncertain information, calculating risk, and avoiding decisions based entirely upon instinct. The Entity had helped him, and it had called itself his friend. Reason demanded that he at least consider the possibility. Something deeper than reason answered immediately. No.

The objection came from his stomach, his spine, and the remembered terror of lying helpless while something moved his body. He looked away from the painting. Aya was watching him again, and this time there was no amusement in her expression.

Shimon returned home before sunset and discovered that investigating supernatural beings was considerably easier than composing a thank-you note to a young woman. Kiyo found him sitting before several sheets of paper and naturally assumed Ueda Sōan had assigned more correspondence.

"No," Shimon replied when she asked. The housekeeper looked over the abandoned sheets.

"Then what are you writing?"

"A note of thanks."

"To whom?" Shimon hesitated half a heartbeat too long and Kiyo's expression changed immediately.

"No." Shimon closed his eyes.

"You have the same expression Tarō gets."

"Woman?" she inquired, her interest sharpening. Shimon considered lying, remembered that Kiyo ran his household and would almost certainly know the truth before the ink dried, and surrendered.

"Noritsuna Aya."

"The shrine maiden? The priest's daughter?"

"Yes, the one and the same," he was forced to admit. The woman's smile broadened, causing Shimon to regret honesty at once.

"This is not what you think." Kiyo arranged the edge of one discarded sheet with unnecessary care. Genbei crossed the courtyard beyond the open doors carrying split wood. The grizzled servant saw his wife's expression, and altered direction without a word. He was, in short, a wise man. Shimon possessed enough disposable income now that buying a gift did not create a serious financial problem, but deciding what was appropriate required considerably more thought.

Flowers felt too direct, clothing was insane, and jewelry was too heavy in its intent. His housekeeper eventually suggested good paper. Aya consumed large quantities of it during the council meetings, and unlike something merely decorative, fine paper possessed an obvious practical value. Shimon added a small, well-made ink cake from a merchant near the castle whose goods his calligraphy instructor had once grudgingly described as acceptable. The note proved considerably harder.

His first attempt sounded like correspondence addressed to an official. The second resembled a military report, while according to Kiyo the third could have been written to an elderly uncle. However, with his chip analyzing context, and ffter several more attempts, he finally produced something that did not seem likely to humiliate him immediately. Aya-dono, Your brush gave shape to things my own eyes could not perceive, and for that I am grateful.

I was equally honored by the grace with which you received us beneath your father's roof. The movement of your brush and the manner of your tea seemed to share the same quality: neither stroke nor gesture was wasted. Please accept these small things for whatever truths your hand next gives form. Ayanokouji Shimon He read it once and decided it was too much. Then he read it again and decided that perhaps it was not.

Shimon folded the sheet according to Ueda Sōan's instruction, wrapped the paper and ink carefully, and tied the small parcel. Kiyo appeared almost immediately, and the housekeeper accepted the package with both hands, maintaining an expression of exaggerated innocence.

"Have someone take it to the shrine tomorrow," he ordered, surprised at the authority that was seeded in his voice.

"As Ayanokouji-sama commands," she replied, bowing with considerably more satisfaction than the simple task justified.