Chapter Two – Rutted Road
'Journey where you will,
the way is never easy
Tread the road with grace
Fate and footpath both conspire
to trip careless travellers.'
"I think I may have discerned the object of our pilgrimage," Hiromasa said.
"Oh?" Seimei answered politely, from behind his fan. Every so often, he gave it a rapid flutter; in the close confines of the carriage, Hiromasa could feel the stream of cold air that it generated, and the chill was distinctly unpleasant. However, he didn't dare protest; this was Seimei's coach, and it would be ill-mannered of him to so criticize his host.
"Yes," he said in answer to Seimei's query, his confidence becoming even more apparent.
Above the edge of his fan, Seimei raised a single eyebrow in sarcastic eloquence. "You are yourself accomplished at divination, then?"
"N-no," Hiromasa replied hastily; such feats of foresight were well beyond him, a fact which they were both well aware of. "That is most definitely your province. However, after some thorough consideration, I think I have struck upon a likely answer…"
"Well, pray tell."
Hiromasa leaned forward, either in enthusiasm, or in order to be heard over the rattle of the carriage. The dull thud of the ox's hooves could be heard as it hauled them up the gentle incline, taking them further and further into the hills.
"It occurred to me that an acquaintance of mine lives in this area. He, too, is a musician like myself; however, whereas my own modest ability only extends so far as wind instruments, he is highly accomplished at all manner of strings, from the koto to the biwa, and reputedly even the kudaragoto." He paused, in order to heave a much-aggrieved sigh. "I have tried to become familiar with him, so that we might hold discussions and share our knowledge – in particular, I wish to learn what he knows of the obscure tunes from the Semimaru region, since my own understanding of them is so dreadfully incomplete – but he must consider me to be very much his inferior, for he has snubbed me every time we have met, and refused every opportunity to talk as friends."
He gave another great sigh; his expression was morose and self-pitying. Seimei smiled, then quickly hid his grin behind his fan. Poor Hiromasa was so naive, he would never suspect that the other musician might be intimidated by his own talent and regard him as a rival.
"Still," Hiromasa went on, "I was sympathetic when I heard that the gentleman is indisposed and unable to attend court at present. Rumour has it that his favourite instrument has been broken, and he is so stricken by its loss that both he and his wife have gone into mourning."
"And you believe that we have been sent by the fates to remedy his sadness?" Seimei inquired, somewhat incredulously.
"You do not think so?" Hiromasa asked, his self-confidence plummeting swiftly.
Seimei closed his fan with a snap. "Why should the divine symbols send us on such a frivolous errand?"
"Matters of musicianship are hardly frivolous," Hiromasa retorted, becoming rather defensive, for the subject was one to which he was very much devoted. Then he checked his own brusqueness and added, in a more appealing tone, "nor are the matters of a man's heart."
Seimei shook his head, though he adopted a more agreeable manner for his friend's sake.
"Even less likely. A man's heart is the most difficult thing in all the world to change. The divine powers would know better than to send us for such a thing; even their influence would be impotent in the face of such discord. Even if a man's heart is at fault, no friend of his, however well-meaning, should ever dream of interfering with it; nothing could be more futile. Only the sufferer himself can change the condition of his own heart. Anyone who dares try to meddle in such affairs would only do more ill than good."
With that he fell silent and reopened his fan, fluttering it lazily, for no apparent reason other than to scatter sunbeams. Hiromasa made no attempt to reply. At his core, he knew that his friend was right; but on another level, he thoroughly disagreed.
What man would not make some effort to change the heart of another, if he saw that one suffering for it?
As he thought this, his resolve upon the matter only became stronger. However, it would be disagreeable of him to further argue with his friend; and so, he kept his opinion to himself.
As though to fill the uneventful silence that had fallen between them, the road suddenly became riddled with potholes, making the carriage buck and jolt beneath them. Hiromasa gritted his teeth as they were dragged over a series of particularly jarring bumps; by contrast, Seimei did not react in the slightest, barely seeming to even notice, with not so much as his sleeve rumpled by the vehicle's incessant shuddering. Hiromasa, noticing this and envying his friend's imperturbable nature, sought to distract himself from the rough ride by looking out the window, watching the sliver of idyllic countryside that he could see through a gap in the carriage's blinds.
Mid-afternoon had come before they had been ready to take their leave of the capital. The atmosphere among the hills was clear and invigorating. Every so often, small puffs of mountain breeze wafted through the blinds, carrying on it the clean scents of oak and sweet pine. The narrow road that they took wound its way round the base of Mount Hiei. The peak itself stood in the path of the sun, which was just starting to make its descent. The glow of its celestial rays glimmered upon the crimson branches that blanketed the slope, emblazoning it with a rose-tinted aureole and making the entire mountain look like a giant bonfire, its flames leaping high into the amber-tinged sky. This breath-taking vision, combined with the smell of distant charcoal fires and the crackle of rustling foliage, made Hiromasa imagine that the entire world – mountain, sun, sky and all – was being slowly burned to ash, engulfed in a final blaze of shimmering glory.
It was an idea that stirred his soul even more than the thought of winter's bleak repose, which doused the world in snow and only served to inspire his pity. It even impressed him more than the coquettish first signs of spring, or the wanton opulence of high summer. Autumn was a season for artists and poets – and musicians as well, so it seemed. It roused a sense of anguish in him which he could not attribute to any particular cause, save for the withering plight of the trees. Watching the leaves sicken and fall made it feel like a season of transience – a season of endings, though just what it was which seemed to have reached its end, he could not say.
The world is transient. When everything reaches its appointed time, it dies, passing into phantasm.
As his mind, prompted by the ethereal vista, strayed into philosophical grounds, Hiromasa recalled his friend's words from the past. He cast Seimei a sidelong glance. His companion was watching the passing woods with an indolent air; his expression was half-hidden by his fan, but his eyes looked bored and diffident.
Hiromasa found himself wondering, as he so often did, at the true nature of his friend. Hiromasa considered himself a man of culture, and usually sought a similar cultivation in the acquaintances he made. (In the case of those dull acquaintances who sought him, and whom he was unable to refuse due to their superior rank, he was forced to be more tolerant.) So he wondered, not for the first time, what it was that continued to draw him to this prosaic, obtuse, somewhat arrogant, often infuriating young onmyoji. Hiromasa was not the type of man who aligned himself with powerful allies; he had no political ambitions, and had never so much as entertained the idea of using Seimei's shikigami, nor the myriad other spells he commanded, for his own personal gains. It was true that Seimei, taken on his own, was an intriguing figure; however, his ability to be intrigued himself seemed to be rather limited. Hiromasa wondered how he could look upon the rippling red glow of the maple-strewn hill, its ragged silhouette standing out starkly against a burnish sky, and not give any outward sign of having been moved by the sight, as he himself was.
Beside him, Seimei's fan fluttered inward; there was a gentle intake of breath, as though he were softly yawning.
Hiromasa sighed wryly to himself. If it weren't for the man's proficiency at magic and his propensity for drink, Seimei would be an absolute bore. It was admittedly difficult to imagine him, as he was now, as any less of a bore; the instances in the past when they had fought together against demons, and delivered the capital from sure disaster, had been as far from tedious as one could get. Still, in the time that Hiromasa had known him, his friend had revealed few interests outside of his work. To the young nobleman, who beside his official duties was accustomed to a life of leisure and learning, it seemed practically inhumane to lead a life without any such distractions. Seimei, with his disregard for social conventions, love of solitude, and lack of recreational pursuits, was certainly an odd creature…
…creature…
Hiromasa recalled those early rumours he had heard regarding Seimei, of his supposed fox-parentage. He wondered if that was why Seimei had such apathy toward majestic mountain views; where a man saw a scene akin to an expertly-wrought ink painting, an animal only saw environs where a safe den might be found. It was all Hiromasa could do to keep from laughing outright at the idea of Seimei, his tall hat knocked askew and his white sleeves trailing in the dirt, emerging from a hole in the hillside like a wary, wide-eyed fox.
He was chuckling inwardly at his companion's expense, and wondering if Seimei might also see the humour in such ridiculous musings, when the carriage gave a violent lurch.
It happened too suddenly and unexpectedly for Hiromasa to brace himself; he might have been thrown through the blinds and right out of the vehicle, if not for Seimei, who, either through quick reflexes, or perhaps some mystic precognition, had managed to seize him by the back of his robes just in time, keeping him in his seat.
"W-what is the matter?!" Hiromasa gasped, nonplussed to have been so rudely shaken out of his reverie.
"A bump in the road, I should think," Seimei replied, with unflappable equanimity.
As it turned out, it was quite the opposite: it was a rut in the road. When they disembarked to take stock of the situation, they found that the left wheel of the carriage – the one that Hiromasa had been seated above – was sunk up to its axel in a deep dip which lay right in the centre of the road. Seimei, hiking his sleeves up to keep them out of the dirt, stooped and examined it more closely.
"A shaft is broken," he said, straightening again and dusting off the spotlessly-white hem of his hitatare. "It shall have to be repaired before we can proceed."
Hiromasa, meanwhile, was gazing all about him, as though he were searching for something.
"Where has the ox gone?" he asked, craning his neck about in an effort to see further up the road. "Did it break free and run on without us? Which direction do you think it-"
"You needn't look so far afield," Seimei answered with a chuckle; he bent down again, this time to pick up something white which lay upon the ground, just between the two shafts of the carriage. Looking at what he held, Hiromasa realized that it was a piece of origami. Two points of paper had been cleverly folded to form a pair of legs; the bulky shape was topped by a flat, squarish head, from which a pair of broad white horns, their tips folded up at the ends, clearly protruded. There was no mistaking it; it was-
"… the ox?" Hiromasa exclaimed, in amazement. "It was a shikigami?!"
"Indeed." Seimei gave the wad of paper a pitying look. "The poor fellow realized his mistake and quit his earthly form, fearing my ire. He won't come back immediately; not until he recovers his nerve and believes my anger to have cooled, though in truth I am not at all cross. Well, I shall summon him back in good time, and once I have chastised him, I will have to reassure him." So saying, he tucked the effigy into his robe.
"Well, it's a fine mess he's left us in," Hiromasa grumbled. Though he had willingly agreed to come on this pilgrimage, it was swiftly losing its appeal. "I thought that your carriage would be immune to such accidents."
Seimei shrugged. "Contrary to what you may think, I am not infallible, and not everything I own has been magicked. Such a thing could happen to anyone. The road is very badly worn; I fancy that as well as the usual pilgrims, many maple-viewing parties have passed this way. Given the state of the ground, it was near inevitable." When Hiromasa didn't seem much placated by this, he added, as consolation, "At least it happened practically upon the doorstep of this estate. We can ask permission to rest at the house until we are able to continue."
He pointed with the edge of his closed fan; Hiromasa looked in the direction he had indicated.
Indeed, they were directly in front of the walls of a country estate. Hiromasa was heartened to see that the whitewash on the walls looked fresh, the roof tiles looked to be free from signs of decay, and within some distant courtyard the neatly-pruned branches of some well-tended trees wafted in the clean autumn air. This place looked civilized at least; if he was to be stranded in the outlying doldrums of the capital, he far preferred to pass the time in a place of comfort and refinement, rather than some ramshackle rural hut which might be overrun by oni or thieves. In fact, he thought smugly to himself, the place looked better inhabited than Seimei's own abode – not that such a standard was by any means difficult to achieve.
Aloud, he only said: "Well, if we must." As they trudged towards the gates of the main house, he managed to brighten a little. "Perhaps this is the home of my fellow musician!" he added, with sunny optimism.
"Hmm. Perhaps."
This utterance was all the agreement that Seimei was willing to concede, as he raised his fan and used it to rap sharply upon the heavy wooden door.
Author's note: I've been reading an online translation of the Onmyouji manga recently, and I realized that I made a mistake. I had Seimei and Hiromasa travel to the north-east of Heiankyo, not realizing that Seimei *lives* north-east of the capital. Ah well; technically, I think Seimei's house was still within the enclosure of the Imperial Palace. I don't even know what *was* north-east of the city - if anyone lived there, if it was all temples, if there are any maple trees on Mount Hiei. Just as well it's more of a fantasy setting than anything historical!
Also, all you Mononoke fans wondering where the medicine seller is - all in good time ; )
