Mother Tree
by
Silvrethorn
"Mugen, no! This is a sacred tree. It's disrespectful." The samurai's tone signaled trouble, and Fuu, a pretty girl of fifteen, raised her head to see what her two bodyguards were up to.
"Screw that crap. I gotta go, man," Mugen replied. He already had his foot on one of the massive roots beside the road and his hand on his waistband, and his intent was clear. So was Jin's; his swords lay untouched at his side, but he had a fighter's grip on the handle of his umbrella.
"Guys, knock it off," Fuu said tiredly. She had stopped under this tree from pure exhaustion, but now she regretted it. The tree, a vast specimen that overshadowed the little mountain village beyond so completely that the ramshackle buildings seemed to cower away from it down the flanks of the cliffs, made her uneasy, and she felt strongly that Mugen's intention was a bad one. Not that saying so was likely to stop him; nor Jin, who was stubborn in his own quiet way, from trying to impose his will on Mugen.
"You can do that over the cliff," Jin said, pointing at the road's edge with his umbrella. "Leave the tree alone."
"I don't need an audience. That ain't my kink," Mugen retorted, leaping to the crest of an enormous root.
"Mugen!" Jin gestured angrily at Mugen's back with the umbrella, which slipped out of his wet hand and hit the tree, knocking a shower of bark off the trunk. Jin retrieved the umbrella with an exasperated sigh and returned to wait with Fuu while Mugen, in defiance of the paper flags festooning its trunk, desecrated the tree. Mugen soon reappeared on the other side, tugging at his clothes and looking smug.
"You'd better hope nobody notices that," Jin said darkly.
"Yeah? Or...?" Mugen never finished the question. One moment he was hopping from root to root back toward the road; the next he was gone, leaving nothing but one of his blocky, wooden-soled geta sandals standing on the root he'd fallen from. Fuu gasped; for a moment she thought the tree had exacted its revenge by devouring Mugen on the spot, but no such luck.
"Son of a..." The muffled expletive was followed by a groping arm, and Mugen reappeared from between the roots, angry-looking but undamaged. He picked up the shoe he'd lost and looked at it, then swore and hurled it into the road at Jin's feet. It was instantly clear why Mugen had fallen; the toe thong of the geta was torn away from the wooden sole, making the shoe useless.
"Ooo, that's unlucky!" Fuu exclaimed. Mugen, who didn't know the superstition about broken shoes, gave her a dirty look as he dropped to the ground; Jin, who was clearly above such superstitions, simply turned and started walking.
"We'll have to stay the night here," he said quietly. "It's getting dark, and Mugen can't travel without shoes." He sounded as reluctant as Fuu felt, but he was right. It was getting dark, and the relentless uphill journey had taken its toll on all of them. As little as she liked the stony village and its ominous, overpowering tree, the alternative of continuing up the mountain in the rain-misted darkness appealed to her even less. But where would they stay? There wasn't so much as a wayside tea shop up here on this mountainside, and as for inns...
"Hey, Mister! Sir!" Fuu ran past her companions, waving, and an old man trudging almost invisibly through the gloom ahead of them raised his head and gave a start, the buckets balanced on the pole across his back swinging precariously.
"Who are you?" he cried, his shrill voice cracking with fear. "Are you spirits?" A pretty girl springing suddenly from the shade of a sacred tree, followed closely by a wild-haired creature in strange clothes, alarmed the old man. Jin's appearance a moment later, however, set him at ease again; apparently soggy, bespectacled samurai carrying umbrellas weren't part of his pantheon of demons. "Travelers?" he asked, reaching out to steady his buckets. "It's late for you to be out. Night comes early in these mountains."
"Yes, we noticed," said Fuu. "Do you know where we can find a place to sleep, and some food?"
The old man blinked at them. "It's too late for that, I'm afraid," he said. "Once the doors and windows are shut for the night there's no place here for strangers." He paused and peered at their disappointed faces. "If you must stay, however, there's an empty house just there." He pointed to his left at a dilapidated structure perched on an outcropping of rock just beyond the canopy of the mighty tree. "You might sleep there safely if you conduct yourselves with care. But be sure to close the shutters and bar the doors at nightfall, and remain inside until daylight. And above all, do not burn the wood of this tree." The old man gestured toward the great tree, then turned and, with a last worried look at the darkening sky, hurried away up the road and into the village.
"What was that all about?" Mugen asked, digging his fingers into his bushy hair.
"Darn, he didn't tell us where to get food!" said Fuu. Jin, as usual, said nothing; he was already prying at the abandoned hut's door, which promptly came off its tracks and fell on him.
"Thanks." Mugen tromped past him, swinging his shoes in his hand and making no offer to help Jin put the door back.
"Oh, leave it," said Fuu, also edging past. Jin made a few more attempts to replace the door, then, defeated by the darkness and the hut's state of decay, stepped inside and propped the door against the frame behind him.
They had stayed in worse places. The hearth in the middle of the room was still in good shape, and the roof only leaked here and there. Jin immediately set about looking for wood to burn while Mugen sat down and examined his broken shoe. Fuu prepared the hearth for a fire and watched Mugen; she'd never seen him do anything useful like repair an item of clothing, and she was curious to see how he did it. Her attention was diverted, however, when Jin pulled the back door open and said "Huh!"
This was not an auspicious sound. Fuu hurried over to the back of the hut to see what had startled Jin, and immediately grabbed Jin's sleeve to steady herself. Apparently the samurai wasn't the first visitor to think of burning the balcony planks; almost all the boards within reach were missing, and what they saw through the holes was a sheer drop of hundreds of feet straight down the side of the mountain. The building was literally hanging off the edge of the cliff, its back third or so supported only by timbers, and the sight of so much nothingness below her feet made Fuu dizzy. Apparently Jin didn't like it either; he waved Fuu back, kicked the door shut and wedged it firmly closed with the umbrella. In the end they settled for stripping up some of the floorboards, and with a fire driving away the damp mountain chill they managed a certain measure of comfort. Mugen, his shoes forgotten, toppled over on his back and began to snore. Jin spread his damp outer kimono on the floor beside the hearth and propped himself against one of the walls, where he dozed with his swords in his arms, occasionally rousing himself to tend the fire. Fuu curled up beside the hearth like a cat, but bone-weary as she was she couldn't fall asleep. It wasn't Mugen's saw-like snoring; she was used to that, and to Jin's periodic wakefulness as well. Something else kept her awake, a lingering remnant of that creepy sensation she'd felt under the tree, a sense of something enormous pressing down on the fragile roof and walls that surrounded them, gently but relentlessly seeking a way inside to...what? She thought of that tree, of its immense presence and its all-too-close proximity, and found herself wishing they'd moved on after all. There was something eerie about it--and why had the old man told them to bar the doors and shutters like that? What roamed the village at night that made the villagers so afraid?
Fuu curled up tighter, suddenly chilled, and as she lay there deep in thought Jin blinked awake. The fire was burning low, but there was no more firewood. Fuu saw Jin look around the room for something else to burn, then freeze. His back stiffened, every fiber of his body suddenly alert, and after a long, still moment he reached up and casually but very hastily snatched his glasses off and blinked intently at the back door. Fuu followed his gaze and sat up.
"It's not your glasses," she said in a low voice. "I see it too." Jin shot her a glance and put his glasses back on, and both of them stared at the umbrella wedged against the door frame.
The umbrella stared back.
It was not a trick of the firelight. Both she and Jin had carried that umbrella over the last week. It had not had an eye when Jin bought it, nor had it had an eye when they entered this village. It had one now, though, right in the middle of its folded ribs, and as they watched in horrified fascination a mouth formed below the eye and a long, lolling tongue popped out and dangled mockingly. The handle lengthened and fattened into a foot, and the umbrella stood upright and made a single hop into the room.
Fuu watched these developments with interest, but with no particular feeling of fear. The umbrella's transformation struck her as more comical than anything, but the more conservative Jin was not amused. He rose cautiously to his feet, pushed his swords into his sash and approached the umbrella, which watched him warily.
"Jin, leave it alone!" Fuu hissed. Jin ignored her. A living umbrella was something entirely new to him, and he was determined to investigate it.
"I believe this creature is called a karakasa," he said, leaning forward for a closer look. "Interesting. I thought they were only a superstition, but..." He moved up to within arm's length of the karakasa and reached out to touch it. The umbrella flared open. Jin snatched his hand away and stepped back, automatically taking a fighting stance. The umbrella slowly folded itself back up, like a ruffled bird smoothing its feathers, and took another hop into the room. Its eye turned and fixed on Mugen's sprawled body, and before either Jin or Fuu could stop it, it pounced.
Nothing in Jin's training had prepared him to deal with possessed umbrellas, but it had certainly honed his reflexes; when the karakasa leaped, Jin made a quick and accurate grab for its handle and seized it in midair.
The umbrella's reaction was as quick as Jin's. The instant the samurai caught it the umbrella began to open and close rapidly, kicking its foot as it beat Jin wildly about the head with its canopy. Jin gave a yelp of protest and threw up his free hand to fend off the flapping paper, which cost him his grip on the kicking leg. The karakasa soared off across the room, its foot hanging from its open canopy like a giant dandelion seed, leaving Jin in the middle of the floor with his hair on end and his glasses hanging off one ear, his normally calm face a study in shock and indignation. He quickly re-seated his glasses and got his expression under control, but he didn't seem quite so eager now to pester the karakasa. Instead he stood and contemplated his foe for a minute, then went and sat down beside the hearth, stroking his chin thoughtfully. Behind him Mugen snored obliviously on. Fuu watched Jin and the karakasa in silence.
It was too much to hope that Jin would give up and leave the karakasa alone. Jin was a young man of great intellect and vast determination. He didn't like things he didn't understand, and like most samurai he detested being beaten. After a few long minutes of thought he stood up again, crossed the room and removed the front door from the doorway. Then he picked his kimono off the floor and, holding it out in front of him like a cape, advanced on the karakasa. The karakasa expanded slightly but held its ground. Jin stopped at a safe distance and shook his kimono.
"Go!" he said hopefully. The karakasa didn't respond. Jin gave his kimono a more vigorous flap, as if he were trying to shoo a chicken. The karakasa wasn't impressed, and it lolled its tongue out insultingly. Jin's eyes narrowed, and he suddenly stamped his foot and barked "Hai!" Behind him Mugen's snoring stopped, and the karakasa, evidently annoyed, took flight again. Fuu held her breath; Jin might get agitated on occasion, but at least he was calm and methodical about it. Mugen, who was now sitting up digging his knuckles into his eyes, was never calm about anything, and the effect of an umbrella demon on his already combustible nature was likely to be catastrophic. Especially when it attacked him from the ceiling, as it seemed poised to do.
"Mugen, move!" Fuu shouted.
"Huh?" Mugen started to look up, but his finely-tuned sense of danger had already spurred him to action. Without even seeing the demon plummeting from above he rolled backward and sprang to his feet, just in time to see the karakasa land neatly with its foot in his good shoe and hop away with it. "Hey! Gimme that!" he bellowed, shock giving way to anger. The karakasa continued bounding, its foot now making floor-shaking clops with every hop, and Jin abruptly changed tactics. Instead of trying to herd the karakasa out the door he lunged at it, kimono outspread, in an effort to snare it and wrap it up. The karakasa shot toward the ceiling, eluding Jin's grasp, turned a neat midair flip and landed its geta-shod foot heavily on Jin's stockinged toes. Jin dropped his kimono, snatched his foot up with a gasp and squeezed it fiercely in his hands.
"What the hell is that thing?" Mugen yelled, glaring at the karakasa, which had now settled in a far corner.
"It's called...a karakasa," said Jin, still a little breathless from the pain. "I believe it's a kind of demon."
"Demon, huh?" Mugen glowered at it some more. "It looks like a freakin' umbrella to me." He pointed at the karakasa threateningly. "Hey, you, I want my shoe back." The karakasa didn't respond. Mugen moved closer, radiating menace. "You hear me?"
"Mugen, maybe you shouldn't..." Fuu began, but the karakasa beat her to the punch. Literally. As Mugen advanced the karakasa lashed its foot out, catching Mugen in the pit of the stomach and doubling his skinny body over like a broken reed. Mugen sat down hard on the floor with an "Ump!" and turned greenish-white. Jin stayed where he was, his foot back on the floor and his hand at his chin. Mugen fought for a minute or two to keep his stomach contents down, then recovered and staggered to his feet.
"You...!" he snarled, and seizing his broken geta off the floor he cocked his arm back to hurl it at the karakasa. "Son of a...eyahhhh!" The geta shot out of his hand and bounced off the rafters, and Mugen hugged his hand against his chest, hissing angrily.
"What...?" said Fuu and Jin together.
"It bit me!" Mugen looked up, wild-eyed. "That...thing...bit me!"
"What bit you?" asked Fuu.
"That!" Mugen kicked a foot toward his broken shoe. Fuu and Jin both looked at it. For a moment it just lay where it had fallen, but then it slowly righted itself and gnashed its broken thong at them. Jin, his toes still throbbing from his encounter with the karakasa, moved back a little.
"A bakezori," he said, eyeing the broken shoe. "Remarkable. I thought they only occurred with straw sandals." He shot a quick glance at his own footwear over by the door, which were in fact made of straw, but they seemed safely inanimate.
"Bakezori! They ain't poisonous, are they?" Mugen asked.
"I...don't know," said Jin, looking at the shoe demon a bit uncertainly. "I'm not sure what these creatures do, actually."
"Well, that's useless. Hey!" Thong chomping, the bakezori made a run at Mugen's feet, forcing him to scramble backward. Mugen managed to draw his sword in mid-flight and made a scything cut, golfing the rogue shoe into the rear wall of the hut. It rebounded and, in one of Mugen's own moves, turned itself sole-first and flew at Mugen's face. Mugen slashed at it, only to have the bakezori catch his sword neatly between its armored cleats and twist it out of his hand. Mugen's mouth dropped open, but pausing was a mistake; his shoe promptly served Mugen the same way its mate had served Jin and smashed itself down on Mugen's bare toes.
Unlike Jin, Mugen was neither a samurai nor a stoic. He launched himself into the air with a howl, snatched his sword off the floor and charged the geta, chopping and slashing at it as it hopped nimbly around the room, whirling and leaping as the bakezori dodged around his feet and attacked from behind, nipping at his heels and taking bites at his backside. Fuu wisely tucked herself into a corner out of the way, but the normally level-headed Jin, excited by all the commotion, drew his own sword and began taking swings at the bakezori, several times only narrowly missing Mugen's churning legs in his zeal to strike his target. This lasted until Mugen, too busy fighting to watch where he was going, ran through the hearth and scattered the remains of their fire, plunging them all into darkness.
For a moment there were clopping and blundering noises as two swordsman and at least one demon groped around blindly; then one of the scattered embers levitated and flared up, briefly illuminating Jin's face as he blew on it.
"We need kindling," said Jin.
"Then go get some," Mugen snarled.
"You're the one who put the fire out," said Jin.
"What do I look like, a friggin' owl? How am I supposed to find kindling at night?" asked Mugen.
"Would you rather sit here in the dark with those creatures around us?" Jin asked quietly. This caused a long silence--Mugen had no real defense against logic, but he still never conceded without a struggle--and then Mugen shuffled off toward the dim square of light that marked the open front doorway. Perhaps he did have the eyes of an owl, because he came back a short time later with a bundle of twigs under one arm.
"They're all wet," he spat, throwing the twigs down beside the hearth and squatting beside them.
"They'll dry," said Jin, squatting down in his turn and arranging the twigs in a neat little tent over the embers, which he had gathered back into the center of the hearth. Sure enough, after a few minutes of smoking and smoldering, a few of the twigs ignited.
"Those twigs aren't from that big tree outside, are they?" Fuu asked anxiously, coming out from her corner. "That old man said..."
"Screw the old man!" Mugen snapped. "You wanted..." He stopped in mid-sentence as the hut completely lit up with blue-white light. An instant later a deafening peal of thunder shook the walls and a few huge raindrops hammered down on the roof tiles overhead. In the back of the hut the karakasa opened itself, and the bakezori hopped into the shelter of its canopy and nestled down. Within seconds the bakezori was about the only dry thing in the hut.
What seemed like a slightly leaky roof in a drizzle was a complete seive in a downpour. Frantically jamming the front door back into its tracks did almost nothing to keep out the torrent, which poured in through every crack and crevice in the roof and walls. The hearth and their pitiful spark of a fire were soon drowned, and neither of the men could find a dry spot to sit. Every time one of them found a patch of dry floor a new leak opened up overhead, forcing him to move. Fuu retreated back to her corner, which only had a small drip, but to her dismay she soon heard the clop-thump of Mugen's geta headed her way. Another bolt of lightning lit the room, illuminating Jin in the middle of the room with his arms wrapped around himself and water dripping from his long hair, Mugen crouched against a wall looking wet and angry, and the karakasa and bakezori right beside Fuu. However, unless Fuu was dreaming, in that brief flash of light the karakasa bowed politely to her, and the drip-drip on Fuu's shoulder suddenly ceased; the karakasa had spread itself over her head and was sheltering her.
"Thanks," she whispered, and while her companions soaked and shivered Fuu drew her feet up under her kimono, settled herself down under the umbrella, and slept.
xxx
Daylight dawned on a desolate scene. Fuu woke as she had slept, to the sound of drumming rain and the splash of water leaking through the roof. Mugen sat against the wall opposite Fuu, bare legs drawn up as close to his body as he could get them and his sword gripped in his hand. Jin sat dejectedly by the flooded hearth, grim and pale, with the lenses of his glasses all beaded with water and drips splatting on his shoulder and back. Fuu, thanks to the karakasa's protection, was reasonably dry but fiercely hungry. She pondered their predicament for a while, weighing the sound of the pounding rain against the intensity of her hunger, and came to a decision.
"Guys?" Both of the huddled shapes stirred, and Jin took his glasses off and shook them. "I'm going out for awhile."
"Where?" Mugen's voice sounded rough and phlegmy. Fuu wondered if he was coming down with a cold; she hoped not.
"I'll tell you when I get back," she said, standing up. She wasn't certain she could find any food, and she didn't want to get their hopes up.
"Whatever." Mugen lapsed back into apathetic silence. Fuu squeezed herself out the front door and stood on the veranda for a minute, looking out at the pouring rain, but as she braced herself to get soaked something touched her hand.
"Oh, it's you!" she said. "Are you coming with me?" Apparently the answer was yes, and Fuu set out toward the village--if not in high spirits, then at least dryer than she'd expected.
Things had not improved when she returned. She found Jin sitting on the front porch, which was actually a bit drier than the inside of the hut. He appeared to be asleep, but he jerked awake the moment Fuu stepped onto the planks. His eyes went immediately from the package she was holding to the umbrella she'd propped against the railing, and stayed there.
"The umbrella," he said. "It's not..." He didn't have time to finish the thought before the umbrella once again sprouted first an eye, then a foot. Jin visibly blanched. "I'd hoped it was a dream," he said tiredly. The karakasa righted itself and stuck its tongue out at him.
"I have food!" Fuu said brightly, hoping to distract him. Jin looked melancholy even at the best of times; cold, wet, hungry and exhausted he looked absolutely wretched.
"Food," he repeated dully, as if the word had no meaning to him. All his attention was fixed on the karakasa. Fuu left him and stepped inside, blinking in the darkness.
"Mugen! I have food!" she called.
There was no reply. Mugen was huddled up against a different portion of wall, eyes closed, bare arms and legs tucked up tightly and shivering visibly. The bakezori stood in the middle of the floor with Mugen's short red kimono under its cleats, worrying it like a puppy with a rag, and the evidence of combat was everywhere; in the sword-gouges on the walls, the broken shutter lying splintered on the floor, and most especially on Mugen. He looked like he'd been trampled by a mob of people, all of them wearing geta; there were cleat-prints on his face, his legs, his arms and probably the rest of him as well, and if the bakezori's possession of his kimono was any indication Mugen had gone down in ignominious defeat to his own shoe. Fuu was trying to think of something comforting to say when a clatter at the front door distracted her.
The noise was Jin trying to slam the door on the karakasa. It was a good effort, but the door simply fell out of its tracks again, allowing the karakasa to hop inside and add insult to injury by popping open and spraying Jin with raindrops. This done, it furled itself up and took its station in the far corner, where it stood very still and stared unblinkingly at Jin.
"Get you...!" Jin and Fuu both looked around, startled, as Mugen lumbered unsteadily to his feet and raised his sword in yet another attempt to conquer the bakezori. This attempt was short-lived; the bakezori skittered around the room, ricocheted off the wall and came down on Mugen's head with a muffled clop. Mugen crashed face-first onto the floorboards and stayed there, still clutching his sword but apparently unconscious.
"This has been going on all morning," Jin said wearily.
"Who's winning?" asked Fuu.
"They're an even match so far," said Jin. "Mugen has the weight advantage, but the bakezori uses its small size to avoid his blows and slip through his defenses. And the fact that their fighting styles are identical..." He trailed off as Mugen groaned and sat up.
"Five ryo on Rolling Thunder," he said groggily; apparently the sound of someone handicapping a fight had stimulated him back to consciousness of a sort.
"You have ryo?" Fuu asked, eyes widening.
"Of course not. He's punch-drunk," said Jin.
"Am not," said Mugen, sputtering through the blood oozing from his nose.
"I brought us some food," Fuu repeated. "Who wants breakfast?" This time, at least, her companions showed some interest. Mugen sheathed his sword and wiped his nose on his shirt, and Jin tore his eyes away from the staring karakasa and sat down in the driest spot he cold find. Fuu joined him there, unwrapped her bundle and handed out its contents.
"I got the rice seller to cook it for us," she said, babbling a little to fill the moody silence, "since we can't cook it ourselves. And oh, people keep asking if we burned any wood from that tree. Apparently smoke from the sacred tree causes terrible thunderstorms." She frowned at Mugen as she said this, but Mugen ignored her. Jin opened his mouth to say something, but a thump-CLOP-thump-CLOP silenced him as the karakasa and the bakezori advanced on the little group. Mugen bristled and Jin hugged his bowl of rice protectively against his chest.
"You don't suppose these creatures eat, do you?" he asked, eyeing the demons suspiciously.
"I don't know." Fuu turned around and looked at them, then scooped up some rice and started to hold it out. Mugen immediately snatched it out of her hand.
"Don't waste food on those freaks," he snarled. An instant later both he and the floor were covered in rice and Mugen was shaking his bruised fingers as the bakezori returned to the floor. Jin sat still for another long minute, watching the demons closely, and when they remained immobile he cautiously tried to take a bite of his food. The karakasa promptly kicked the chopsticks out of his hand, strewing more rice over the floor.
"Stop that!" Jin said sternly, as if the demons were unruly children. The karakasa responded by kicking the bowl out of Jin's other hand, dumping its contents down the front of his kimono. Jin jumped up, shaking his clothes to get the rice out, and bent over to retrieve the bowl.
Fuu could have told him this was a bad idea. In fact, she was about to, but before she could speak the karakasa, unable to resist the target Jin was offering, booted the samurai squarely in the backside.
Jin straightened up with a jerk and spun around, wild-eyed. The eerie staring and minor torments he could bear with patience and fortitude. He could even stand hunger, to a certain extent, but being starved and humiliated simultaneously was more than his proud nature could bear. His lips moved soundlessly for a moment, framing Buddha only knew what flaming invective, and then he went completely mad.
"NO!" Jin drew his sword and made a deadly cut at the demon, which easily dodged it. "Not...such...things...preposterous..." Jin punctuated each swing of his blade with fractured denials of the evidence of his own eyes, not to mention his smarting bottom. Neither Fuu nor Mugen had ever heard Jin utter a sound when he fought, and they exchanged a startled glance, grabbed up the food and ran for cover. After several minutes of wasted effort Jin paused, head down, shoulders up, his cold rage filling the little room. The karakasa watched him, stuck its long tongue out and made a rude noise. The bakezori, not to be outdone, crossed the floor and kicked Mugen in the kneecap
The inside of the hut completely erupted. Mugen sprang up with a roar and attacked the bakezori. Jin, every trace of his disciplined, elegant technique incinerated in the inferno of his frustration, lunged at the karakasa, hacking wildly as his opponent leaped and soared around the room just beyond the reach of his sword-tip. It was like watching the antics of armed lunatics, and it was too much for Fuu. With a wail of despair she bolted through the door and ran toward the road, oblivious to the pouring rain soaking her hair and kimono.
She didn't have far to run. Help was near at hand in the form of an old woman in a straw cape who was kneeling at the base of the holy tree, apparently making an offering to it. Fuu charged toward her, arms flailing, stumbling on the cracked paving stones.
"Help!" she called. "Help! They've gone crazy!"
"Who has?" asked the woman, standing up slowly and turning to face her.
"Both of them!" Fuu replied nonsensically, pointing at the hut.
"Both of who?" the woman asked sharply, and her tone shocked Fuu to her senses.
"My bodyguards. There are demons, and...and..." She faltered, realizing how ridiculous she must sound, but the old woman seemed to take her quite seriously.
"Oh, heavens, not again! Did either of these bodyguards harm this tree?" she asked.
"No! Yes! We have to do something before they hurt each other!" Fuu was thinking of the two swords swinging wildly in close quarters; somebody losing a nose was a best-case scenario.
"They'll keep, girl. Answer my question."
Fuu closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. "Mugen, um...peed on the tree," she said, not daring to look at the old woman. "But Jin didn't do anything. Not on purpose, anyway."
"What did he do?"
"He was trying to stop Mugen, and he hit the tree with his umbrella," Fuu said.
"Ah," said the old woman, and started toward the hut. Fuu followed dumbly in her wake. She had no idea what the woman had in mind, but she radiated an air of authority, and Fuu was sure she could sort out the situation.
She wasn't mistaken. The woman marched right up to the hut's gaping doorway, pointed dramatically at Mugen and shouted "Blasphemer!"
Everything came to a halt. Demons and swordsmen alike froze in their tracks, and Mugen and Jin turned and stared at the old woman, dumbfounded.
"Huh?" This attack, coming so suddenly from such an unexpected quarter, momentarily shocked Mugen speechless. As he scrambled for mental traction the woman turned on Jin.
"And you, samurai! Shameful! Inexcusable!"
"What...?" Jin's sword drooped in his hand, forgotten, as he struggled with the assault on his morals and manners.
"Who the hell are you anyway, you old bat?" Mugen snarled, quickly finding his tongue again.
"You are the priestess who tends the tree," Jin answered for her, and the woman nodded.
"The Mother Tree, yes," the priestess said, "and if you wish to be rid of this plague of demons you will listen to me and do as I say. They only came upon you because you treated the Mother Tree with disrespect, and what the tree spirits have done, they can and will undo. You..." she whipped her finger at Mugen. "Apologize to the tree, and because your offense was great enough to merit such punishment..." the priestess's eyes swept Mugen's bruised and bloodied figure, "you must make her an offering as well. A sincere and humble apology, and a good offering, one that's a sacrifice to yourself. No half-measures, hear me?"
"Yeah, whatever," Mugen said in a sullen tone that implied no such agreement.
"And you." Jin gave the priestess an apprehensive look. "Your offense was accidental, and done with good intent." Jin relaxed slightly. "But it was still rude of you not to apologize. You needn't make an offering, but if you wish this demon to leave you alone, you must make amends. Do you understand?"
"Yes, of course," said Jin, sheathing his sword. The priestess turned to go, then suddenly turned back.
"Whose bright idea was it to burn wood from the Mother Tree, anyway?" she snapped. Mugen glowered and Jin shuffled his feet. "Well, whoever it was, you'll spend the next seven days getting wet. The rain will follow you. Mind you don't catch cold." She paused, then with a final, menacing hiss of "Shameful!" she swept out the door.
Her exit was followed by a long, ringing silence. All the fight seemed to have gone out of Jin, but Mugen was still visibly smoldering. Perhaps it was the suggestion that he apologize to a tree, but Mugen's ire at the bakezori suddenly flared up again, and he turned and made one last lunge at it.
"It's all your fault, you stinkin' little..." His sword swept ground where the bakezori had stood an instant before, but the bakezori once again dodged him, galloping toward the back of the hut and vanishing through a gap under the back door. Both Jin and Fuu saw disaster coming, but Mugen could act more quickly than most mortals could speak, and before either one of his companions could even draw breath Mugen had kicked the back door open and charged through it.
For an instant his spidery figure hung silhouetted in the doorway, gangly arms and legs thrashing. Then, without a sound, he vanished. Jin and Fuu stood open-mouthed, rooted to the floor with shock, waiting for the death-wail as Mugen's body tumbled to ruin down the cliff-face. When all remained silent, however, they went to the door-sill and looked down.
The flash of red and brass caught their eyes first, the unmistakable color of Mugen's sword scabbard. This was jammed longways across a gap in the floorboards, and visible in the middle, clutching it in a white-knuckled grip, was Mugen's hand. His companions edged closer and looked through the hole, and Mugen looked back, a little wide-eyed but otherwise unscathed. Jin gave a relieved breath and immediately began considering the logistics of rescuing Mugen, but a new complication quickly arose. The bakezori, which was lurking unnoticed on the other side of the gap, thumped over to the scabbard and gave the end of it a shove. Mugen let out an angry, panicked yell and made snatching motions with his free hand, but there was nothing within reach to grab, and the effort set his body swinging, which scooted the scabbard even closer to the edge of the gap. Mugen immediately stopped struggling and went limp.
"Stop it!" he snarled, eyeing the bakezori. The shoe demon gave the scabbard another kick. Fuu shot the bakezori a pleading, terrified look, and inspiration suddenly dawned.
"Mugen! Promise you'll apologize the the tree!" she cried. "The priestess said if you apologized the demons would go away, remember?"
Mugen said something extremely rude in reply. The bakezori leaped lightly onto the middle of the scabbard and pressed its front cleat down gently on Mugen's fingers. Mugen frantically tried to pull himself up, but his spindly arms lacked the muscle to complete a one-handed pull-up, and he dropped back with a gasp.
"Mugen! Promise!"
"Gahhh! Ouch!" Mugen obviously still wanted to fight, but the bakezori ground down warningly on Mugen's knuckles.
"Mugen?" Fuu asked.
"Mugen!" Jin, unable to think his way around the bakezori, abruptly added his voice to the debate. This seemed to finally tip the scales in favor of capitulation, because Mugen stopped wriggling and sighed.
"Awright," he grumbled. "I'll apologize to the freakin' tree. You happy?" He addressed this question to the bakezori, which replied by hopping off of Mugen's hand and retreating inside the hut. Fuu gave a sigh of relief. "Now get me the hell out of here," Mugen concluded ungratefully. "I'm freezin' my ass off."
xxx
It was a strange group that gathered under the Mother Tree that afternoon--two starved swordsmen, a well-fed girl, a bakezori and a karakasa. Jin went first; the karakasa's incessant staring played on his nerves, and he was eager to be rid of it. His words were drowned by the hiss of the falling rain, but he certainly appeared contrite, and apparently the tree had no trouble hearing him; as he bowed and stepped away the karakasa suddenly went rigid and fell over on its side, a simple, inanimate umbrella once again. Jin cautiously slid his foot forward and nudged it with his toe, but there could be no doubt that the demon had departed. Jin picked up the umbrella and its now-abandoned geta and, holding them gingerly, looked at Mugen.
"Do you have an offering for the tree?" he asked.
"No. What the hell am I supposed to give it?" he asked, throwing his arms out. This was a valid question; Mugen owned almost nothing, and not one of the few things he did own was valuable. "I could go scrape the rice off the floor," he added viciously.
"You do know how to apologize, don't you?" Fuu chimed in. She'd never heard the word "Sorry" leave his mouth, and she wasn't sure it was part of his vocabulary.
"Yeah, yeah. Better go get it over with." He stomped over to the tree and took a belligerent stance in front of it. For a long moment he just stood there fidgeting, and Fuu pulled Jin's sleeve.
"Maybe we should leave," she whispered. "Mugen might not want an audience."
"If Mugen insults that tree again it might reach down and strangle him," Jin murmured in reply. On the face of it this sounded like concern for Mugen's safety, but Fuu caught a certain hopeful quality in Jin's voice. However, Jin wasn't feeling entirely ungenerous toward his fellow swordsman; having watched Mugen mutely scratch and shuffle for several minutes, he stepped forward and handed Mugen the umbrella.
"What...?" Mugen asked, holding the umbrella at arm's length and eyeing the bakezori, which was still very much alive and working its thong hungrily.
"It's yours now, to do with as you like." Mugen continued to look blank. "Perhaps you'd like to leave it as an offering to this tree, our shelter for hers," Jin added significantly. Understanding dawned on the half of Mugen's face that didn't look like raw beefsteak.
"Sarcastic bastard," he growled, then turned to the tree. "Here," he barked, waving the umbrella. "Sorry I pissed on you. Here's our umbrella. Now you can piss on us all you like." He jammed the umbrella handle-first into a crevice between the roots and walked away. The bakezori stopped moving, and Fuu stooped down and picked it up.
"Hey! It's not broken anymore!" she called, holding it up.
"Great." Mugen snatched it out of her hand, dropped it onto the ground beside the shoe the karakasa had worn, and stuck his feet into the thongs. "Reckon that crazy bitch meant it when she said the rain would follow us?" he asked, taking a few experimental steps.
"Well, only one way to find out," said Fuu, turning to face the road twisting upward through the mountains. "Let's get out of here." Mugen sneezed in reply; Jin sniffled, and finding themselves all in agreement they set off through the steady rain toward the mountaintop.