The dreams had not stopped coming.
Atsushi frowned down at the vegetables he was chopping, trying to clear his mind. Last night had been fairly pleasant, as far as dreams went, or at least not particularly unpleasant. In his dream, he'd seen a young man of astonishing beauty, with long soft-looking hair and huge expressive blue eyes set in a delicately formed face. His expression, however, had been one of petulance and barely disguised fear.
The reason for his discomfort was plain. He stood before the golden form of the god Aurite, while several other less visible gods lurked in the background, watching the proceedings.
"You've caused a great deal of trouble in the world," Aurite was telling him. "This cannot be allowed to go on."
"It isn't my fault," said the young man, pouting. "Is it my fault I was born beautiful? I thought that was the work of the gods. You can't blame me for being what I was made to be."
Atsushi knew this story. The young man's name was Akoya. According to the legends, he'd been born with incredible beauty, which had only increased as he grew into manhood. People came from great distances to catch a glimpse of him, wealthy and powerful people attempted to court him, and eventually even the gods began to squabble over him. Akoya, however, had cared nothing for any of them, and had remained entirely absorbed in his own interests. His would-be suitors, however, had been unwilling to take no for an answer, and had bickered and fought each other until Aurite himself had been obliged to step in.
"No, it is not your fault," said Aurite, "but it is your responsibility nonetheless. Your very existence disrupts the order of the world, and that cannot be permitted to continue."
Fear flashed across Akoya's face. "Are you going to kill me, then?"
"No," said Aurite. It was hard to tell through the aura of golden light that surrounded him and obscured his features, but Atsushi thought the god looked amused. "For one thing, it would be a waste. For another, you have your admirers even in the underworld. We can't have you disrupting the afterlife on top of everything else." He regarded Akoya thoughtfully. "I suppose we could alter your appearance..."
"No!" Akoya backed away, hands pressed to his face as if to protect it. "Anything but that! I'd truly rather die."
"No one said you had a choice in the matter," said Aurite sternly. "Although, as I've said, I hesitate to destroy something beautiful without good reason. Therefore, I am willing to give you the choice you so obviously want." He leaned forward, giving Akoya the full weight of his regard. "If I offered to allow you to retain your beauty - and what's more, to remain young and beautiful forever - what would you be willing to do in exchange?"
Akoya's eyes lit up with hope and longing. "Anything you asked. Name your price."
Aurite did. Atsushi knew this story well. To resolve the problem, Aurite had gone straight to the highest authorities, the two gods of Fate and Chance, and asked for permission to do something that had never been done before. With their leave, Aurite had promoted Akoya to a new existence as Pearlite, god of beauty and springtime, effectively protecting him from any influence mortals over him, so that they would no longer dare to fight over him. In exchange, he had to work in his new capacity, spreading beauty throughout the world and encouraging humanity to appreciate it wherever they found it, not only in him. In addition, to help prevent bickering among the gods over which of them would enjoy his favors. Pearlite was told to select two consorts from among his many heavenly suitors, one from the underworld and one from the holy city. Once he was under their protection, the other gods would have no choice but to leave him alone or face their combined wrath.
The story of how that decision had been made, as the various gods competed for his hand, was a legend in itself, but in the end, he had made his choice - Sulfur, whose sophisticated manner and vast wealth made him the most desirable by far of the underworld gods, and Vesta, who may not have had Pearlite's unearthly beauty but made up for it in raw sensuality. The two of them had already been together a long time, and had agreed to the bargain on the condition that to choose one of them meant choosing both of them, a condition that Pearlite had willingly agreed to. Ever since then, Pearlite had been dividing his time between helping Vesta encourage new life in the spring, bestowing his blessings on the glorious afterlife, and enjoying himself with his two consorts in the heavenly city. On the whole, the situation had resolved itself quite happily, and was regarded by one and all as one of Aurite's great successes in leadership. It was the story trotted out most often to remind people that while he could be a harsh god towards those who did wrong, to those who were in need of help, he could be helpful and even generous.
All right, so he's scary, but he's not all bad, Atsushi mused, as he tipped the freshly chopped vegetables into the stew pot. That doesn't explain why I keep dreaming about him every night.
Once was enough to unsettle him. Twice might be coincidence. But it had been happening over and over again. Sometimes, as last night, he'd relived scenes from legends. He'd almost enjoyed seeing the re-creation of the story of how Aurite had first taken up his golden arrows as his favored weapon. Sometimes they just seemed to be glimpses of what were, for lack of a better word, everyday life, provided that the life you were talking about was an immortal and immensely powerful one. No matter what, though, the dreams always centered on the same dark-clad figure with the glowing golden aura.
By the time the lunch rush was over, his mind was made up.
"Kinshiro," he called, "I need to run an errand in town. Do you think you could keep an eye on the place for me for an hour or so?"
"What if someone comes in wanting food?" Kinshiro asked.
"Tell them we're out of everything but stew until dinnertime," said Atsushi.
"All right, then," said Kinshiro. "I ought to be able to manage that." A small smile. "If things get out of hand, I can always send for your friend Yumoto to help."
Atsushi laughed. "If it comes to that, go ahead."
Feeling reassured, he left the inn and started for the center of town. It really was a relief to know there was someone taking care of things for him. Life really had become so much better since Kinshiro had come into it.
I can't imagine what I'm going to do without him when he leaves...
He shook his head, pushing the thought away. He'd managed before, and he'd do it again. Right now, he had other things on his mind.
A brisk walk led him to the village's one and only temple. It was a nice one, considering the town's small size, a tall building of pale grey stone with stained glass windows lining each of its sides. They were simple enough things, each a solid color with a golden symbol in the middle that represented a member of the pantheon. Inside the temple, beneath these windows, were little altars where one could make offerings or entreaties to the various gods. Formal services were rarely held there. This was a place solely for private meditation and reflection. There were, however, a revolving supply of priests, sent in by the larger cities to offer some guidance or consolation to the villagers as needed. Atsushi hoped he could find one of these and get some input on the strange turns his life had taken.
With appropriate reverence, he climbed the small flight of steps to the double front doors and slipped silently inside. The temple itself was dim, and he took a moment to let his eyes adjust. The only light was what spilled through the windows, creating a rainbow of colors on the smooth stone floor, and the candles lit on each of the altars. Atsushi made his way slowly down the center aisle. He glanced uneasily at the altar to Sulfur and made a perfunctory gesture of respect before continuing. He paused, not in front of Aurite's altar, but in front of the shrine to Cerulean, God of Sleep and Dreams.
It wasn't a particularly magnificent altar. Cerulean wasn't one of the more highly esteemed gods, scarcely ever propitiated unless one was suffering from insomnia or nightmares. He had been known to offer revelations to his most devoted followers by way of dreams, but becoming one of his acolytes required a willingness to spend most of one's time asleep, which did not do much for a person's social life. All this altar had to show for itself was a little stylized humanoid figurine draped in a blue robe, two burning candles, a little box of incense, a plate to burn it in, and a second box for offerings. Atsushi obligingly took a coin from his purse and dropped it into the offering box, then used a candle to light a cone of incense. While the lavender-scented smoke drifted gently upwards, he closed his eyes and permitted himself a brief wish, not quite a prayer, that he could know what in the world was going on in his life.
He was distracted from his meditations by the soft sound of someone coming up behind him.
"Help you with something?" a voice asked.
Atsushi opened his eyes and turned to see that a young priest had come up behind him. He looked to be about Atsushi's age, or maybe a little older, and he was wearing a somewhat threadbare robe and cracked leather sandals, marking him as a priest, and not a particularly high-ranking one. His drowsy eyes and tousled blond hair, plus the rather rumpled state of his robe, suggested that he'd been catching a nap in the quiet temple while no one was around.
"Just... working through a few thoughts," said Atsushi. "I haven't seen you here before. Are you new?"
The young priest nodded. "Just got here a few days ago, from the city. Came here to get some peace and quiet." He ran a hand through his hair, in an apparent attempt to make it lie a little more neatly. It didn't work. He gave up the attempt and offered a handshake instead. "Call me En."
"Atsushi. Nice to meet you." He took the young priest's hand. It was smooth, and his grip was firm but not crushing. A friendly sort of handshake. Atsushi found himself warming to his new acquaintance.
"So what's got you coming out here in the middle of the day?" En asked. "You look like a guy with something on your mind."
"Well, the truth is," Atsushi admitted, "I've been having these dreams."
En nodded slowly. "What kind of dreams?"
Atsushi told him. En listened, gaze steady, nodding and occasionally asking a question, but mostly just letting him talk. He didn't seem to find any of what Atsushi was telling him strange, which was reassuring.
"I just wish I knew what I'm dreaming all this," he concluded. "I mean, I'm nobody. I'm just the guy who runs the inn in a little town in the middle of nowhere. Why am I dreaming about one of the most important gods in the pantheon? What have I got to do with him?"
"You never know," said En. "They say his chief priest used to be just a gardener, once. Sometimes the gods like to focus on people you wouldn't expect. I think they think it's funny."
"So you think he's taken an interest in me?" Atsushi asked, taken aback. "Why?"
En shrugged. "Who knows? At least he doesn't seem to dislike you. Seems to me, he's just letting you get to know what he's like. You're being given information. What you do with it..." He trailed off and shrugged. "That's going to be up to you."
"I see," said Atsushi. That made him feel a little better. He could deal with making choices better than he could having the gods simply make up his mind for him.
"Anything else I can do for you?" asked En, regarding him thoughtfully.
"No," said Atsushi, and then, "Yes, actually, there is something else. I saw a god the other day. An actual one, not a dream. In the common room of my inn."
"That's allowed," said En. "Everyone is allowed in the common rooms of inns, even gods."
"Yes, but this was one of the underworld gods - a death god," Atsushi protested. "I don't want anyone to die."
"Everyone dies, sooner or later," En pointed out. "I wouldn't worry about it, if I were you. Probably he was just being nosy, especially if there's already another god interested in you. They're all snoops, you know - they can't stay out of human business. Or each other's, for that matter. He probably just popped in to see what was going on."
"Do you really think so?" Atsushi asked. He wouldn't have imagined that there might be such a simple explanation.
"It's as good a reason as any for him to be hanging around," said En. He shrugged. "Look at it this way - the underworld gods don't actually kill people. Your birth and death are decided by the gods of Fate and Chance. Having a death god hanging around your house doesn't make it any more or less likely that someone is going to die there. What's more, from a god's perspective, tomorrow and next week and next year and fifty years from now are pretty much all the same. He could be hanging around waiting for something that's going to happen when you're ninety."
"That's a relief," said Atsushi. "I was really worried. I've got a guest I'm taking care of... He wasn't in very good health when he first arrived here, and I thought..."
"That having a death god hanging around meant he wasn't long for this world?" En finished. "Probably not. He didn't say your friend was going to die, did he?"
"Well, no," Atsushi admitted.
"Right. So he's probably not there to deliver messages of gloom and doom," said En. "If it happens again, then maybe you can start worrying. Otherwise, don't let it bother you."
"All right. If you're sure," said Atsushi. "Thank you."
En waved a hand, dismissing his thanks. "No problem. Come back again any time you feel like chatting. I'll be around for a while."
"I might do that," said Atsushi. "And hey, any time you want a good meal, come by the inn. I'll have something waiting for you."
"Sure, I could do that," said En, smiling. "It sounds like fun."
"I'll look forward to it, then," Atsushi replied. "And now I'd better head back. I promised my friend I wouldn't be long."
"Well, the door's always open," said En casually.
Feeling much more at ease, Atsushi ambled back out of the temple to go check on how Kinshiro was doing. En followed him as far as the door, standing and watching him go. It was only after Atsushi was well out of earshot that he turned and closed the door firmly behind him. He was not surprised to see that, though the room had been empty a moment ago, there was now someone watching him.
"Well?" he said. "What do you think?"
"That was such a load of bull," a voice replied.
"Well, I had to tell him something," said En with a shrug.
The speaker stepped fully into view, revealing himself as a red-headed young man with bright eyes and a roguish smile. He shook his head, looking both amused and exasperated by En's answer.
"I know," he said, "but you're a lousy liar, you know that?"
"I just didn't want him to be scared," said En. "I don't see the harm in letting him have some peace of mind. What did Sulfur have to go and scare him for, anyway?"
"Because he deserves to have some idea of what he's letting himself in for," said Sulfur, stepping out of the air next to the first young man. "Hello, Vesta. Nice to see you taking an interest in the proceedings, finally."
"Hey, I'm very interested!" Vesta protested. "I just haven't been letting myself get caught, like some people I could mention."
"I just wanted a good look at the situation," said Sulfur. "I prefer to go into things with as much information as possible."
There was a shimmer in the air and a whiff of flowers as Pearlite materialized next to them.
"I've been telling you from the start that I have my doubts about this whole plan," he said. "There's far too much risk involved."
"You're one to talk," said Vesta.
"I'm just saying, we have no idea if this is even going to work," said Pearlite. "We could just be making things worse."
"I know," said Sulfur sympathetically, "but I've worked out the probabilities every way I can think of, and this is really our best chance."
"Just don't scare the poor guy anymore," said En. "You heard him - he's worried his buddy is going to die. We don't want him going around thinking that."
Sulfur shrugged uneasily. "Well, his death is fated. Even I can't change that - you said it yourself. All I can do is stand by and make sure it goes smoothly when it happens."
"Just stop being scary," En insisted. He sighed and shook his head. "This is giving me a headache. I need a nap."
Vesta rolled his eyes. "Cerulean, you always want a nap. But you have a point. We should just leave these guys alone for a while and let them work things out on their own."
"You would be the expert on that," said Sulfur. "All right. I won't let them see me again. No more scaring people."
"Now you're talking sense," said En. "Come on, let's get out of here, before someone comes in and I have to start playing priest again."
Pearlite laughed. "And we can't have you doing anything like work, can we?"
But even as he spoke, he was already vanishing. Within the space of a breath, all four of them were gone.
As it turned out, there was nothing to see in Binan.
Not that there was anything unpleasant about the place. Far from it - Arima had been pleasantly surprised by what a lively little village it was, despite its isolation and modest size. The people there were friendly and happy to see a visitor from so far away, particularly when he let slip what his profession was, and were all eager to make him feel welcome. He spent the better part of the day exploring the town from end to end, first visiting the temple, then the mayor's office, and finally working his way around the various shops and minor local landmarks. Other than discovering some surprisingly good eateries and being invited to join the mayor and his wife for tea, the visit had been entirely uneventful. The most he'd been able to get was that there had been some sort of divine activity, particularly around the temple, but finding those sorts of traces was rather like finding leaves under a tree. They didn't tell him anything he didn't already know. Now it was growing late, and he was once again growing tired and discouraged.
What am I supposed to be finding here? he wondered, directing his thoughts to the world in general. Yes, this seemed like the sort of tidy, well-regulated town his god would love most, but other than that, the place seemed utterly unremarkable.
Well, the day was almost over. He would find a place to stay, get a good night's sleep, and think about it some more when he was rested. He had to have been sent here for some reason, and he wasn't ready to give up yet.
"Excuse me," he asked a passing man. "Do you know a place where I could find a bed for the night, and possibly a bath?"
The man paused and scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Well, now. There are two inns here, the Cloverleaf and the Mountain's Arms. If you're looking for a bath, though, your best bet is to keep heading that way..." He gestured to the road leading out of town. "...and stop in at the Kurotama. You're an outsider, aren't you? Well, no visit to Binan is complete without visiting the Kurotama bath house."
Arima was aware suddenly of how long it had been since he'd had a proper bath. Splashing in cold water from a stream was in no way comparable to a real scrub with soap and a long soak in actual hot water. When you were the servant of a god who believed in order and tidiness, keeping yourself clean and well-groomed wasn't just a good idea, it was a basic tenet of your faith.
"Thank you. I will definitely do that," he said.
A brisk walk brought him to the bath house, where he was pleased to discover that he was the only guest at the moment, giving him a moment of tranquility to sort through his thoughts. He settled himself into a tub and leaned back, closing his eyes and concentrating on settling his thoughts. Mental discipline, that was the ticket. If he could just clear his mind and let everything that had happened to him filter down through his thoughts, he would be able to turn up the answer, just as long as he could sit here quietly and...
"You doing okay, Mister?"
Arima jumped. Someone had crept into the room without his noticing it. His eyes flew open, treating him to the sight of a blond-haired boy leaning on a mop. He relaxed a little, recognizing the bath attendant.
"Everything is fine, thank you," he said graciously.
"That's good," said the boy, smiling with obvious pleasure. "Boy, there sure are a lot of new people coming through town lately. First that other guy, and now you. Are you staying long?"
"I'm not sure," Arima admitted.
"Maybe you could stay at the Cloverleaf," said the bath attendant. "That's where the other guy is staying."
"Other guy?"
"Yeah, you know. I just said. There was that other guy who came here a couple of weeks ago. The innkeeper found him in an alley or something and he didn't remember who he was, so he took him home with him and that's where he's been ever since. He's a funny guy. Doesn't talk much, but he seems nice. Hey, you know a lot of people, right?"
"Ah..." said Arima, who was having a difficult time keeping up with the rapid change of topics.
"Atsushi thinks the guy he found must be someone important," the attendant continued. "If you've been around a lot, you might recognize him. Then he'd know who he is."
"Hmm," said Arima thoughtfully. A stranger - an important stranger - in a small town, who had apparently undergone something traumatic enough to make him lose his memory... that was the only interesting bit of news he'd heard all day. With no other leads, what could he do but investigate?
"Where do I find this Cloverleaf Inn?" he inquired.
The attendant obligingly rattled off the directions, and Arima repeated them back to make sure he'd memorized them. Once he was certain he had his directions straight, he dried himself off and left the bath house in as much haste as he could manage without offending the proprietor. Then he hurried off in search of the promised inn.
Even with good directions, it took him a few minutes of walking up and down the street before he finally found the place. It wasn't as large as he expected, just a simple two-floor building. He guessed that it probably didn't have more than ten rooms, and perhaps not even that many if they were of any decent size. Like most of the buildings on the street, it looked as if it had been there since the dawn of civilization, with a few coats of flaking paint doing little to disguise its age. A modest signboard propped against the wall by the door read, in neatly painted letters, "Cloverleaf Inn - Rooms - Beer - Food". Definitely not the sort of place a high priest usually stayed the night. Still, it looked clean, and the smells drifting through the open front door were enticing. A babble of conversation drifting out suggested that there was a healthy crowd in there, so it couldn't have been that bad.
I really only need to go in and look, he told himself.
He stepped through the door and into the warmly lit common room. A few people glanced up at him as he came in, recognizing him as a stranger, and he took the opportunity to size them up in turn. They looked to him like the sort of miners and farmers he'd been seeing around town all day, people very much like the inn itself: unpretentious, but still a generally wholesome-looking bunch, nothing like the drunken rowdies he'd been afraid of. The room itself was cozy and inviting, reminding Arima of his own childhood home. He smiled a little as he slipped into a vacant chair near the fireplace.
He had only just begun to relax when he was approached by a young man, and Arima had to fight the urge to sit up and stare. He could see at once why the bath attendant had noticed this young man. Slim, fair, and graceful, he stood out among these hearty country folk like a silver coin among a handful of copper. His bright hair almost glowed in the light of the candles, and his piercing green eyes seemed to look straight into the back of Arima's mind.
"Can I get you something?" the young man asked, and his voice didn't have the cadence of a country person, either. He was definitely something out of the ordinary.
He was also looking impatient. Arima realized he had been staring for several seconds without saying anything, and also that his mouth had been hanging open slightly. He quickly pulled himself together.
"Whatever you think is good," he said. "And do you have any tea?"
A raised eyebrow communicated how seldom it was that anyone here ordered tea with their dinner - a quick glance around the room told Arima that every other person in the room was drinking beer - but he didn't look displeased. On the contrary - Arima had the oddly flattering sense that he'd just risen in this young man's estimation.
"I think I can manage that," he said, "but it will take some time."
"I am not in a hurry," said Arima. "In fact, I may want to stay the night, if there are any free rooms."
That seemed to put him on still better footing, the prospect of a profit apparently earning him some approval.
"I believe there are still rooms available," he said. "I'll have the innkeeper speak with you."
And then he glided off, presumably in search of food and tea. Arima slumped back in his chair, finding himself struck breathless.
Well, I think now I know why the gods sent me here.
No, that wasn't true. He still had no idea why he was here, but surely this mysterious young man tied into his quest somehow. There was something so very familiar about him, and yet Arima could have sworn he'd never seen him before in his life. Perhaps he was a parishioner from one of the temples he'd visited, or even a fellow priest? Maybe he was a member of one of the noble families who worshiped Aurite and donated to the temples. He looked like he could be a noble. Every line of his body radiated sophistication. If only he could remember...
"Hello? Excuse me?" asked a voice. Arima glanced up to find that he'd been approached by a dark-haired young man with glasses and an apron - the innkeeper, presumably. He was carrying a clay mug and a rather battered teapot.
"Ah, thank you! You have no idea how much I need that," said Arima, reaching for the tea.
The innkeeper smiled. "Your food will be out in just a few minutes. My friend says you're also looking for a room?"
Arima nodded. "I'm not sure how long I'll be staying, but..."
"Not a problem," said the innkeeper. "We can work something out. I'll have a room ready for you once the dinner rush is over, all right?"
"Take your time," Arima assured him. He didn't mind waiting. There would, after all, be food and hot tea to keep him occupied.
That, and it would give him an opportunity to observe the silver-haired young man.
Atsushi was not at all certain about his new guest.
Not that he disliked the man. On the contrary, Arima seemed to be quite a pleasant person, and it would lend the inn a bit of cachet to have such a high-ranking priest staying there. Maybe his presence would bring the establishment a little luck. He certainly wasn't any trouble, beyond his preference for fresh tea, but since Atsushi and Kinshiro had the same preferences, that was almost an advantage. Other than that, the man was perfectly agreeable, never rude or demanding, never putting on airs, always ready with a good word. He even kept his room tidy.
The only thing that unsettled Atsushi about him was that the man appeared to have no other business in the village other than to chat with Kinshiro. Oh, he'd wander off to the temple for a few hours every day, to meditate or pray or whatever it was priests did, but most of the time, he seemed perfectly content to hang around the inn, sip tea, and keep a watchful eye over Atsushi's new busboy.
Atsushi would have stepped in, except for the fact that Kinshiro didn't seem to mind. After weeks of living in a village full of people who rarely saw a book, much less sat down to read one, Kinshiro had finally found a companion who was educated, well-spoken, and refined - as thoroughly elegant, in other words, as Kinshiro himself. In moments when the daily rush had died down, Atsushi managed to catch snatches of conversation between the two of them. Arima seemed to be intent on learning as much about Kinshiro as he could - his attitudes about the world, at least, since plumbing his past was obviously out of the question. The two of them seemed to have a lot in common on that score. Arima had said his questions were because he suspected he might have met Kinshiro at some point in the past, and was trying to work out where that might have been, but Atsushi couldn't help but wonder if there might not be another reason involved somewhere.
The gods of the world were many and varied, and their attitudes towards sex and marriage were as varied as the gods themselves. Some of the more austere gods demanded that their followers practice utter celibacy. Others only demanded such sacrifices from their highest priests while tolerating liaisons between their followers. Some were quite neutral on the subject. If one of the drowsy priests of Cerulean, for example, were able to rouse themselves from their somnolence long enough to meet the man or woman of their dreams, the god didn't care if they wanted to use their beds for something other than sleeping. On the far end of the scale, there were those like Vesta and Pearlite who considered the act of joyful congress to be part of their worship, and were perfectly happy to see their followers taking one or more lovers. The god Arima served, Aurite, was one of the more moderate gods on that score. As far as Atsushi understood it, followers of Aurite were supposed to keep themselves chaste before marriage, but family units were considered part of the structure that kept society functioning. It wasn't strictly required that his priests and priestesses marry and produce or adopt children, but it was far from frowned upon, either.
Atsushi watched as Kinshiro washed the front windows. The morning sun was streaming through them, reflecting off his brilliant hair and making his green eyes shine. The water trickling down the window panes cast rippling shadows over his skin. Every time he moved his washcloth, the thin fabric of his shirt shifted over the muscles in his back and shoulders. Atsushi tore his eyes away.
No wonder Arima is fascinated by him.
Well, and would that really be so bad? Kinshiro was never meant to be nothing more than a busboy in a roadside inn. Even if Arima couldn't find where he'd originally belonged, he'd be able to take him back to the city and put him in a place where he could truly shine. If the two of them liked each other, wouldn't it be for the best?
But the most selfish part of him was saying, no, no, of course not. Nothing could ever be for the best if it meant that he'd never see Kinshiro again. He would miss him when he went, miss his clear, incisive way of looking at things, miss the way his serious face lit up when he smiled, miss the charming way he got flustered when the world flummoxed him with its untidiness and tendency to chaos and unpredictability. He'd miss comforting him after all of those episodes. Would anyone else be willing to do that, when he was gone?
Then Kinshiro turned away from the window, tossed his rag in the bucket of water he'd been using, and scanned the room. His gaze passed over the priest, who was still sitting in his corner reading a book and sipping tea, and fixed squarely on Atsushi. His smile warmed Atsushi down to the soles of his feet.
"All clean," said Kinshiro, crossing the room to hand him the bucket. "Now if it would only stay that way."
Atsushi laughed. "Glare at anyone who looks like they might put fingerprints on the glass. That will teach them."
Kinshiro looked amused by this remark, as Atsushi had hoped he would be.
"I'm going to finish the dishes," he said. "The lunch rush will be here soon."
Atsushi nodded and started for the kitchen. Kinshiro was right, of course. He had a superb sense of timing, and if he said the lunch rush would be starting soon, there was no need to check the clock. That meant Atsushi needed to be in the back making sure the food was going to be ready when people came in wanting it. Given that he was usually working alone in the kitchen, he tended to focus his energies on things that could be made in large batches, like stew, and started ahead of time without a lot of attention on his part, but they still required some oversight.
That was why he didn't notice at first when the rougher elements arrived. He'd been back in the kitchen, taking some meat pies out of the oven, and hadn't realized at first that his newest guests were anything out of the ordinary. It took him a moment to realize why they stood out. They were dressed wrong. The locals tended to go in for sturdy boots with thick soles, suitable for tromping around on the rocky ground, and most of them wore loose-sleeved shirts with brightly colored and embroidered vests. These men all wore calf-high boots and long belted tunics. They had to be out-of-towners, and they didn't have the look of merchants about them. Merchants, even the ones who were a little down on their luck, still tended to at least try to look respectable.
"Who are those guys?" he asked Kinshiro, when the two of them passed each other behind the bar.
Kinshiro gave them a mistrustful glare. "I don't know. All they'd say was that they were thirsty and that we'd better have beer. I don't like the look of them."
"Me either," said Atsushi. "Do you think I'd better ask them to go?"
Kinshiro looked at him thoughtfully before shaking his head.
"I don't think you're the sort of person they're likely to respect," he said.
Atsushi looked at the men. The smallest of them probably weighed twenty pounds more than he did, all of it muscle, and there were six of them that he could see.
"Maybe you're right," he admitted. "All right. I guess we just try to wait them out and hope they go away on their own. And if they ask about rooms, tell them we're all booked up for the foreseeable future."
Kinshiro nodded, looking grim. "Let's hope they realize they aren't welcome."
The men did not seem to realize that they weren't welcome. They put away several mugs of beer each, growing rowdier with every new round. Many of the regular patrons began clearing out, seeking healthier climes. Those that remained watched the group with annoyed glares, muttering to each other. After the strangers had made several lewd remarks about the women passing outside, smashed a mug, and spilled a bowl of stew on the floor, Kinshiro's patience finally ran out.
"I can't take any more!" he said to Atsushi. "I'm telling them to leave."
"No, wait," said Atsushi, grabbing for his arm, but Kinshiro shook him off.
"Enough is enough," he said. "They're driving away customers. Besides, I'm sick of them."
He stalked over to their table, leaving Atushi scrambling in his wake.
"You're going to get yourself killed!" he protested, but his voice was lost in the general chaos. He stared at his friend's back, feeling a sick feeling twisting inside him. He'd managed to nurse his friend back from the brink of starvation, but that didn't mean he thought Kinshiro was ready to single-handedly take on a band of heavily muscled ruffians, any one of which was at least six inches taller than him. They were going to flatten him like a bug. The vision Atsushi had seen of the death god lurking in this room weighed heavily on his mind.
Please, don't let him get hurt...
Kinshiro marched up to the head of the table, where the man who seemed to be the leader of the ruffians was sitting.
"Hey, boy," the man growled. "Are you gonna bring me another beer or what? Me and my boys are thirsty."
"No, I will not," said Kinshiro. "You've had enough. It's time for you to leave."
The man straightened on his seat, ruddy face going even redder. "You listen here, boy - either you bring me my beer or I wring your scrawny neck."
"Either you leave or I make you," Kinshiro answered levelly.
"Why, you little..."
The man surged to his feet, spewing expletives. Atsushi had only enough time to cry out before the lout swing a hamlike fist in Kinshiro's direction. Kinshiro ducked, easily avoiding the blow, and shoved the man hard with the flat of his palm, sending the lout tilting backwards so that he dropped back into his chair with a grunt. The other men at the table made outraged noises, but Kinshiro remained as calmly unaffected as a marble statue.
"Perhaps you didn't hear me the first time," he said. "You need to leave. Now."
The lout gave an incoherent snarl and lunged at him. Kinshiro darted backwards, easily avoiding the clumsy grab, but now the other men were getting to their feet and looking at him with murder in their eyes. Kinshiro regarded them with contempt, as if he couldn't believe that six large and imposing men might have even considered the possibility that they could take him on.
"You listen here, runt," the biggest of the men rumbled. "You better apologize right now, or..."
Kinshiro didn't give him a chance to finish.
One of the necessities of living in a remote village in the mountains was that of needing a weapon. If you lived in town and didn't stray beyond the borders, it wasn't a pressing need, but if you were a woodcutter or a farmer, you needed to be ready to defend yourself at any moment. There were wild animals in the mountains - bears, wolves, wild cats, even the occasional monster or demon. Most people who worked out of doors carried a bow or at least a long knife, and most of Atsushi's regular patrons were the outdoors type. As soon as the men began to move, Kinshiro made a dive and came up holding a patron's bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. In a fluid motion that spoke of long practice, he loosed the arrow. It shot over the lead man's head, removing his hat and pinning it to the wall.
"The next person who moves towards me gets an arrow in the eye," he said calmly. "You aren't wanted here. You're upsetting Atsushi, and you're annoying me. Now. Leave."
For a moment, there was absolute stillness in the room. Atsushi held his breath, staring at the tableau in front of him. No, be honest - he was staring at Kinshiro. With the bow still held steadily on one hand, his back straight and head held high, the late afternoon sun blazing around him, he was truly glorious.
The standoff was broken by a man rising to his feet. It was the same old man who had broken his dish a few days before, the one Atsushi had defended from Kinshiro. Now he was levering himself carefully to his feet, raising his walking stick like a cudgel.
"You heard the lad," he rumbled. "Get yourselves out before we throw you out."
That seemed to be the tipping point. One by one, the other men in the room began to stand. Some of them raised their walking sticks as the old man had. Others raised crossbows or hunting knives. Slowly at first, but putting on speed, they arrayed themselves in a loose semicircle, putting themselves between the ruffians and the bar where Atsushi stood.
"Your kind don't belong here," one of the patrons rumbled.
"Yeah, we don't like you messing with our Atsushi's inn."
"This place is too good for the likes of you."
The muttering rose in volume and intensity. The ruffians looked uneasily at each other and began backing slowly towards the door.
"Yeah, well, we didn't want to stay here," the leader muttered. "The beer tastes like piss anyway."
He and his friends trooped out of the room. The patrons began laughing and congratulating themselves. The old miner clapped Kinshiro on the shoulder.
"That was a nice bit of shooting there, boy."
"Thank you," said Kinshiro.
He tried to hand the bow back to the man he'd taken it from, but the man pushed it back to him.
"Keep it," he said. "I have more, and looks to me like you could put it to good use."
The other men nodded.
"Too many rough characters on the roads these days," commented a farmer. "Somebody ought to have a weapon in case more people like that start hanging around here. We don't want anything to happen to our boy here."
Kinshiro cradled the bow in his hands, his eyes grave. "Don't worry. I'll use this to protect Atsushi and the inn."
That seemed to be the right answer. With a few more congratulatory words and slaps on the back all around, the regular patrons went back to their meals. Atsushi began busily drawing mugs of beer. If ever there was a time for drinks on the house, he felt this was probably it.
Once the patrons were happily enjoying their free beer, Kinshiro momentarily found himself with nothing to do. He went to join Atsushi behind the bar, still admiring his new acquisition.
"Look at this," he said. "They gave me a gift."
"I'm not surprised," said Atsushi. "You were amazing, Kinshiro. The way you stood up to those guys... the way you got everyone to rally around you... it was amazing."
Kinshiro regarded him solemnly for a few seconds, his expression so grave that for a moment Atsushi wondered if somehow he had said something wrong. Then Kinshiro slowly shook his head.
"It wasn't me they were rallying around," he said. "It was you. They supported me because I was protecting you." He gently set his new prize behind the bar. "I'll just leave this here."
Then he slipped back into the crowd, leaving Atsushi to stare after him, not knowing what to say.
To Be Continued...