Ukiyo ~ Floating World
Chapter 7: A Shrine for A Wish

Disclaimer: I still do not own Digimon and its respective characters to this day. Alas!
Author's Notes/Thanks: Whoa, sorry this took so long! Thanks for sticking with me this far! It's my birthday today and I figured I might as well end this chapter. I'd been working on it for a while and there wasn't much research to go off of, but Nissaka sounds like a lovely place to visit. Let's hope I can churn out another chapter faster this time around...


The air smells sweeter, the sky brighter, and life lovelier when one does not have to toil. Yamato and Taichi were seeing life as if through a delicate cherry blossom translucent in the water as they rode in what the old woman called a cart. In actuality, it was a sturdy old palanquin, a relic from the earlier years of the Tokugawa era, meant for toting around the ever-important samurai. The boys grinned to themselves as they chatted gaily, delighting in the constant breeze that blew past as four resident samurai from the post town of Hara carried their weight. The two in the front were the young men who provoked Taichi, whose names turned out to be Dabumon and Doukeshi. The other "volunteers" went by Kyuuketarou and Etekou. Although the men enjoyed causing trouble in Hara, they backed down when Taichi made a display of his now-obvious dominance. Taichi had to admit that he was secretly grateful for the old woman's newly acquired command of power; traveling on a palaquin certainly made the trip to Kyoto much faster and plenty times more leisurely.

Yamato had recovered from his fever in a little less than a day thanks to the herbal medicine the grandmotherly woman concocted, and presently he was laughing along with Taichi. "This is what I call travel," he remarked with a carefree grin. "I don't know if I can ever walk again after traveling in this."

"Sorry, Kiyohime. Even samurai today don't get this luxury, darling," Taichi responded with mock distress, caressing Yamato's cheek playfully as if they were an elite couple among the ranks of the .

"Oh? Why's that?" Yamato asked, brushing a hand through his soft blond hair with a flourish and ignoring Taichi's ridiculous pet name for him. He was, however, clearly enjoying the star treatment.

"I'll give you a hint: it has to do with why you followed me out here on the first place," replied Taichi, happy to have his hair free from restraining cords once more. Yamato expected a hint of annoyance in his voice, but there was none to be found. The slim samurai was currently reclining blissfully on the beautifully polished wood, hands behind his head.

The musician pondered on this for a moment, and he stringed together his answers carefully. Rebels, Loyalists...and the thing that connects them all would be... "Foreign influence?" Yamato asked meekly, as if he were taking a test.

"Bingo, but you probably shouldn't say this stuff aloud, Yama," replied Taichi in a lazy voice, pulling a fan from the floor of the palanquin and giving himself a gust. "It's light out, but you don't want to be associated with the wrong kind."

Mulling over this, Yamato reached for his lacquer box, freshly filled with supplies courtesy of the old woman of Hara. He pulled a couple of candies from the box and chewed on them thoughtfully. Soon, he would be in Kyoto, the Old Capitol, and soon, he would have access to the temple where Taichi had his education. Life in Odaiba was now far away. A worrisome thought occurred: how long has it been since he had left home? He guessed about a week or so, considering all of the mishaps they had gotten themselves into. Perhaps it was longer. He didn't even know how long he had been sick for, or what caused his illness. In any case, he was glad to be well again, and his hand had even begun to heal over. He no longer needed to keep it bandaged, and this was a great relief to him. He hated being unable to use his hands. Turning to Taichi, he pulled the flute that Master Kengyo had packed for him. "Shall I play a tune?"

"That sounds exquisite, dear," Taichi said with a slight nod, accentuating the use of the word he rarely used, eyes closed in his restful position. Chuckling and suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed at the feigned affection the samurai couldn't seem to stay away from, Yamato put the flute to his lips and played a lighthearted tune. Taichi lifted his arms and traced the air with his finger as if he were directing his own symphony as he listened. "Ah, what a beauteous melody, sweet dove," said the samurai with a heap of panache, pretending he was an actor. "If I were...uh, a bird - I mean, if you were a bird, I would wish that you would never stop playing!"

The musician allowed his lips to curve into a small smile, but he didn't stop until his song was finished. "You're ridiculous, you know that?" he said teasingly, punching Taichi's arm gently.

"Oy, lovebirds, keep it down," huffed the dark-haired Dabumon. "We're tryin'a work here. Y'all are pretty heavy, so this ain't no walk in the park for us, y'know?"

"You lot wouldn't be involved in this if you weren't jerks in town," Taichi remarked.

"Yer jus' lucky that Grams was soft on ye," muttered the baby-faced Doukeshi. "How did y'all even manage to get through the Tokaido without getting attacked, anyway?"

"That's for us to know and you to shut up!" replied Yamato's palanquin mate. The Hara boys muttered inaudibly from that point on as they carried their burden further.

An upside to their presence was that they were all very fit, and were also very fast. Nothing fazed them, and luckily, weather was on their side. By the time the end of the day approached, they had covered more than ten of the fifty-three posts of the Tokaido. They were to stop at Nissaka to rest before tackling the difficult mountain path ahead. It grew dark very quickly, and once again, they were not followed. Yamato had fallen asleep for a spell, and when he woke up, he was greeted with the sight of a shrine. Taichi explained that this was the Kotonomama Hachimanguu shrine, the western entrance to Sayo no Nakayama, one of the hardest obstacles to conquer on the Tokaido. As the four Hara samurai set Yamato and Taichi down, they stretched and yawned, walking straight into the shrine without purifying their hands. The musician blinked at this show of impoliteness, but Taichi spoke, resting an arm on his shoulder. "Don't be so hard on them. We just traveled a good fifty miles or so, and they didn't stop once. These guys are fast. Not the brightest bunch, but they're sturdy," he said to the blond. "Let's just get some rest and make sure they can take us through the mountain."

The air was unnaturally chilly that night, and Yamato shivered in his thinning garments. His skin felt sticky with heat since they did not have a chance to bathe for the entire day. He opened and shut his mouth, feeling his tongue on the inside, and tasted the unpleasant flavor of being woken after sleeping for too long. He breathed in the air and took in the woody area around him. Even in the nighttime, the shrine was lovely and smelled of fresh foliage. Tiny bamboo shoots grew from the unkempt parts of the shrine, and his stomach rumbled for a hot meal with chopped bamboo, but this was hardly the time. He followed Taichi into the interior of Kotonomama Hachimanguu after cleansing himself with the holy water provided outside and meditated for a few minutes before getting up to explore the place.

Although he had gone through the path before, Yamato had no recollection of passing through. This was because old Kengyo found a person to take them across the mountain path, and the young musician had fallen asleep during the trip. The boy decided not to say anything, feeling like a useless traveler for knowing nothing of the terrain around him. Well, that's all going to change with this trip, won't it? thought the musician, inhaling the mountain air deeply for a few more moments to help clear his head. The unruly warriors were already fast asleep on the shrine floor despite the disapproving looks of the monks who tended to the place. Taichi turned to the bald holy men and grinned at them with a helpless shrug, as if to apologize for his retainer's behaviour. Holy men as they were, they straightened themselves up and went back to their business.

Yamato was not sure what time of day it was. He knew it was nighttime, and the full moon hung high in the inky sky. He assumed that it was a little past the usual time he ate supper and decided that he was not yet tired. His companion samurai sidled up to him and smiled. "How are you feeling?" he asked, keeping his voice as low as possible when he noticed a monk whip his head toward him with an unkind look. "The monks here are used to visitors, but I think they actually had the shrine to themselves tonight until we walked in."

Smiling back and nodding at the explanation, Yamato surveyed the small shrine. It did not take long; like many shrines, it did not take up too much space, and the decorations were sparse. They were the simple characteristics of a Shinto shrine. On the outside, he noted the noticeboard that they had passed. Several edicts had been posted to the sturdy wooden board, ranging from mailing fees to barring people from housing "hidden Christians". The most recent sign was violently scratched out, and Yamato could barely make out the words "Loyalist" and "Rebel". And yet we're the only ones here, Yamato thought with a furrowed brow. Does this mean that they've taken out all the sympathizers? Or the Rebels or the...what am I even talking about anymore? Are we even safe here?

"What's wrong? You look a little pale, Yama," Taichi said. He sounded very concerned, which surprised Yamato. "You still feeling a little feverish?"

"N-No, that's not it," replied the musician, his cheeks flushed in response. "I think...it's a bit early for sleeping. Do you mind if I step out for some fresh air? My head feels a little...jumbled, I suppose. I'm still in shock after you told me how far we'd gone since Hara..."

"Sure. Do you want me to come with?"

"I think I'll be fine," Yamato said quickly. He was a burden on the samurai long enough, and for once, he wanted Taichi to have a little rest without having to worry about him. Once again, regrets for coming along began to creep up on him, and besides that, he was having trouble sitting around the brunette without his heart attempting to beat out from his chest. "I'll just be right there. I won't be far."

"Okay. Just be careful. It's quiet out, but you never know what that could mean," warned the boy warrior.

Yamato knew that it was best to trust Taichi's instincts and nodded. "If anything happens, I'll just play this tune on my flute," Yamato said, playing a simple four-note melody. F, A, B, F...the notes had a mysterious ring to it, and it sounded curious enough to the musician. He played it a few more times until Taichi could whistle it out. The samurai nodded and watched his friend bow out of the shrine.

It was against Taichi's nature to follow someone out, no matter how curious he was. If it were a woman, the consequences would be especially dangerous. But Yamato was a man, and a surge of energy rushed through the samurai. He wanted to follow the handsome musician. He wasn't just worried; the moment the blond left, Taichi felt that something had fallen out of his heart. It was unnatural, to say the least, but he felt discomfited alone in the shrine with the brute warriors snoring loudly and the monks leaving them to their devices. He couldn't sit still. He whipped his head around the wooden shrine, feeling his heart rate quicken when he realized that no music had been playing at all, not even the familiar flickering of a candle or the rustling of leaves out in the wind. Everything seemed to still when Yamato left, and this confused the samurai greatly. I could have sworn I heard music earlier when Yama was here, he thought in frustration. Am I going crazy? What's going on with me?

He did not follow the musician as instinct said, but he did move closer to the entrance of the shrine. Yamato's golden hair made him easily visible, and Taichi held his breath as he watched the boy glide toward one of the large trees of the construct. He didn't dare exhale, for the silly fear that Yamato would see him. The way the slender musician moved was like that of a specter, one of those sad female ghosts that so many superstitious old folk liked to spread stories of in the villages. Yamato looked up at the perfectly full moon with his bright blue eyes, and Taichi wondered what the boy was thinking. He felt his heart thump louder the longer he left his eyes on the boy. Even when he's not Kiyohime...no. It's not Kiyohime that was beautiful. It's Yama. The music he thought he had heard before came back to him with the arrival of a gentle breeze, rippling the musician's deep green kimono like that of a once-still river. His clothes are so worn now...a breeze that light shouldn't be enough to pick up that fabric. We've got to get him something more durable later. In the next town, maybe...

Entranced by the boy, Taichi's body felt as if it had traveled miles and miles away. In his mind he was submerged in the ocean, deep, deep down where no one could reach him, but there was no need to worry about taking a breath. Right next to him was Yamato Ishida, his faithful, loyal, beautiful retainer, who vowed to stay by his side forever...the thought was alarming, but the samurai didn't care. He had never experienced a dream so pure, not even in the deepest of slumbers. And here he was, awake, simply staring at the musician who had been his traveling companion for only a week. His heart began to ache. Was this foolishness? He fell under Yamato's spell the moment he spun around as Kiyohime when he had crept backstage before the performance of Dojoji, more than half a year ago. They spent a good month or two in each other's company when he found that they both lived in Odaiba, after that bizarre wind had left them with the two ema of friendship and courage. The samurai couldn't understand the feelings that were pulsating through his heart, and he couldn't explain why it seemed so unbearable to simply look up Yamato as he sat alone under that tree. He wanted to be next to him. He wanted Yamato by his side.

His ethereal vision was shattered when a familiar voice called out from the back of his mind. Boyish short hair, the sweet scent of plum blossoms, the girl he had known since childhood who wielded a naginata without fear but was forced to learn her mother's arts...what of Sora? The pleasant paradise under the ocean Taichi shared with Yamato rushed out of his mind, and Taichi was faced with the girl he had been enamored with since he was a boy. She smiled at him, his mind's eye piling memory after memory onto his brain, trying to push out the image of Yamato. Taichi! Let's go out and practice sometime! Taichi, that's not how you make it...here, let me...Taichi, that was an interesting poem, how nice of you... Sora was waiting for him in Kyoto, wasn't she? But he could not muster up an explanation of why the Sora in his mind looked upon the lonesome Yamato sitting under the tree as well.

Taichi raised his hands to his head and rubbed it vigorously in an attempt to wake up and leave this daydream state. He slapped his cheeks a couple of times to pull himself back, and looked up again, breathing heavily. Yamato was still at the tree, looking up at the moon as longingly as he had been just moments ago. So nothing changed, the samurai thought. That was...that was way too intense. I need to get a hold of myself. What am I even thinking? Did I really just see Yama like that...and what about Sora? Jeez, this isn't at all what I should be thinking about right now...we need to get to Kyoto. That's the goal. I can't let myself do this again.

He stood up and brushed the dust off of his kimono, turning his head slightly to look at the blond musician once more. The way the boy was looking up at the moon reminded Taichi of the story of Kaguya, the moon princess. Discovered in a stalk of bamboo, the infant Princess Kaguya was taken home by the elderly bamboo-cutter who had discovered her, and she grew up to be a woman of extraordinary beauty. Though many tried to win her hand, she gave them impossible tasks to fulfill before she would marry anyone, and eventually, her suitors gave up. But her old parents noticed how sad she looked when the full moon visited the skies, and out of parental concern, they asked what was wrong and if there was anything they could do to help. Princess Kaguya, hair shining with what seemed to be moonlight, only cried harder as she looked to her kind foster parents. She said that it was almost time for her to return to the Moon, where she had hailed from originally, and the Moon people would come to retrieve her. The day came and the Moon people took Kaguya as promised, and the elderly couple and their adopted daughter wept together in a sorrowful symphony as the Princess slowly floated away into the night sky. Taichi felt his throat tighten as he recalled the tale, and prayed to the gods that Yamato would not be taken away from him that night.

Taichi fidgeted as he walked away from the entrance of the shrine, unable to sit still now that Yamato was out of his vision. The snores of the Hara men were joined by those of the Kotonomama Hachimanguu monks, and the samurai felt strangely worried that the entire shrine would collapse as a result of the unwelcome harmony of slumbering men. Shaking the idea out of his mind, he concentrated, trying to relocate the music he knew he had heard just moments ago. He whistled the simple melody Yamato taught him to calm his nerves. The tune was lovely and strange, and eventually he heard strings and flutes and more instruments join in as he whistled. Ah, the imagination is a great thing, he thought with a triumphant grin as he kept whistling.

But something was amiss. The orchestra in his mind ceased immediately, as if all the musicians had been muffled and cloaked with silence. The samurai's eyes widened as he realized what he had heard was not a figment of his imagination. He stood up in alarm, stumbling in his attempts at swiftness, and sprinted to where Yamato was. What he had heard was Yamato's secret emergency tune. And it was no longer playing.

Get away from him! Taichi thought furiously, his body shaking with adrenaline. Why didn't he just stay where he was? The small complex of the shrine suddenly felt too large, had too many turns, too many candles about; simply too many things for Taichi to avoid. Too many objects standing between him and Yamato. Whoever the hell you are, I'll take you on - all of you, all of you, I don't care how many, if you hurt him, I'll kill you all...!

He was hardly out of breath when he reached the tree where he had seen Yamato sitting, and looked at the spot in surprise. Yamato was still there. Why, there was no one around him, and not a scratch at all on his body or anywhere else. He was just asleep. Taichi laughed to himself, feeling more than a little crazy, and carried the peaceful musician back into the shrine. "Why'd you have to scare me like that? Huh?" he whispered as he looked at Yamato's sleeping face lovingly. "You're an idiot, Yama. Damn you."

Taichi knelt on the floor made of bamboo and gently set the boy down. He looked upon the musician, allowing his heart to beat as fast as it had been when the thoughts of the boy filled his mind just minutes before. His mouth was slightly ajar, breathing ragged, his eyebrows crinkling his forehead with wrinkles as he watched over Yamato. He did not know what to do with his feelings. He made a motion to leave the boy, but Yamato grasped onto his hand before he could stand. Again, his heart beat faster, and it possibly skipped too many beats to count; Taichi was surprised that the organ didn't leap from his chest and run away. Here he was, this beautiful boy who knew nothing of the world, fast asleep and holding onto the hand of the samurai in whom he placed all of his trust! Taichi let out a cumbrous breath as he closed his eyes. What on earth was going on with him? Everyone was asleep, he was the only one awake, he should sleep as well. He wanted so much to just kiss this boy's cheek, to touch his face, caress his skin. It felt so natural, like that was all he ever needed to do in this world and he would be allowed to die happily.

The samurai's hands began to shake as he looked around the shrine, making sure that everyone was asleep. The gods of the spirit world seemed to be holding their breaths in anxious excitement as Taichi leaned down, his breath hitting Yamato's porcelain skin. His lips were only inches away from the beautiful boy's sleeping face, and he held the hand that Yamato had wrapped so tightly around his own. "Yama," he whispered longingly as he tenderly moved the musician's face toward him. He ran his rough thumb against Yamato's pink lips; Taichi shivered pleasantly as its smoothness registered through his hands. Just...I just want you to know...I'll protect you, no matter what, Taichi thought, hoping Yamato would hear what his mind had said. He bent down to kiss the boy's soft lips; the cheek was no longer an option now. "I wish I could have you."

A violent wind rushed past, startling the samurai as thoughts of Sora pierced his mind. Luckily, he hadn't been holding Yamato's face, so when Taichi pulled back, the musician's slumber was not disturbed. Cursing to himself, Taichi pulled at his tall brown hair and sat down at a corner of the shrine. The kindred spirits of the shrine shared his disappointment. "I need to get some sleep," he said aloud to no one. "We have places to be." He wondered if these were feelings his heart should not allow, but he was firm with himself: it would be best not to know, or to think about this any longer. He was a warrior, was he not? There was no need to feed these feelings, especially when there was a goal at hand. He ignored the fact that he wouldn't be able to content with the emotions on his own in the first place. Wordlessly, he urged himself to sleep, unaware that the sleeping Yamato was still looking for Taichi's hand.

Taichi's sleep had been a restless one, so he had been the first to wake up the next morning. Even the monks were still sleeping, and they were known to be early risers. There goes the notion I had as a kid that monks never slept, he thought groggily. He stretched and looked around the shrine, hoping to find a source of water to splash his face. Reluctantly he thought of the holy water in the front, but a darkness swept over him and he laughed the idea away. "I was just kidding," he muttered, hoping the spirits wouldn't condemn his blasphemous thought. "Just help me look for a well or something."

As if on cue, the first ray of sunlight pointed toward a spot in the forest. The expression on the samurai's face was one of incredulous delight. "If you're all leading me to what I think you're leading me to...I will never, ever, ever, think of your holy water that way again. You've got my word," he prayed quietly. Tiptoeing over all the people in the shrine, Taichi bounded out after a quick bow toward the forest.

He made his way through the enormous trees with little effort and focused on the sun's first ray as more sunlight poured into the forest. "What do ya know," he said aloud with a grin. It did lead to a spring, and it was well-hidden by the trees. He assumed the monks knew about it and would stop by in due time, so he took the opportunity to fill his canteen, take a drink, and use some of it to wash his face and parts of his body. A rustle in the bushes halted his cleansing, and from behind his hands, he opened his eyes. A flash of red sped past, the same red he had seen before he had fallen prey to sleep before arriving in Odawara. Curiosity more than fear caused him to bring his hands down, and before him was the red-beaked creature, just as he surmised. The creature looked at him, and he at it, when he realized that it had a striking resemblance to the mythical Tengu. Bewildered, Taichi wanted to move toward it, but found that his body would not follow his commands. The Tengu silently pointed back toward the Kotonomama Hachimanguu shrine, and Taichi's head moved on its own - no, more like it was allowed to move - and his eyes widened in fear. He struggled with his armor and made for his katana, turning to thank the Tengu, but it had already disappeared. No time for that now, Taichi thought fervently as he pumped his legs toward the shrine. What he had seen was a gang of heavily armed samurai stalking the shrine that served as a gateway to Sayo no Nakayama, poised for an ambush. And everyone was still asleep, blissfully unaware of the fate that would befall them. Not if I can help it. Yama's in there. You won't lay a hand on him. None of you will.

Though Taichi was sprinting fast, his agile footsteps fell onto the soft ground inaudibly, allowing him enough cover for his own surprise attack. Were these Loyalists or Rebels at the shrine's doorway? He couldn't be sure, but at this point, there was no use in caring. There were too many in danger. He kept his eyes on the samurai and studied their armor carefully, wondering why they would possibly sacrifice their souls by cutting people down in a holy place. An abrupt memory from Hara surfaced on Taichi's mind. The Hara men - they're Loyalists...what did I hear them say when we were hiding in the bushes...?

"Fool Rebels think they can get the better of us!"

Cursing to himself, he realized what these men were: they were Rebels, probably allies of the man they had gotten rid of in Hara from who knows how long ago. And they were here to exact revenge on their fallen comrade. How long had they been following, if that were the case? He had long thought that no matter what side a samurai pledged allegiance to, they would still stay away from holy grounds. Apparently, this was not the case. These men were fledgling samurai, probably acting of their own volition. Everything about their attack was wrong. A samurai never launches an ambush in the morning (though this seemed to be the best course of action: they were, after all, in the middle of a thick forest), they never attack in a cluster like that, and their stances denoted that they were all too eager for fresh blood. Were Taichi not a warrior, he would have felt sympathy for cutting down these amateurs, but he was trained to ignore these human worries. At his very core, Taichi was a samurai, and a good one at that, even though he had never seen war. And these men just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Yamato was in that shrine along with their targets, and it was rare for samurai to keep any in the vicinity alive; usually only one was spared to spread the fear and chaos they have created.

As they lifted their legs to charge into the shrine, Taichi stepped out from the bushes. "Good morning, fellas," he called pleasantly. "Shouldn't you perform temizu before you go in there? Spirits won't be all that happy with you if you don't."

They turned, their ash-gray masked faces doing nothing to suppress the shock apparent from their wobbly stances. There was no need for Taichi to charge; he walked toward them calmly, his hand resting atop his sword as if he were taking a stroll through the park. The Rebel samurai shuffled their feet backwards in an attempt to maintain their distance from this stranger. Taichi smiled cheerfully, though inwardly, he was grinning at how cowed he had these fools. He hadn't even done anything! Not yet. One of the lesser samurai let out a battle cry and made for Taichi, katana raised high above his head. With a tutting sound, Taichi shook both his finger and his head as he placed one of his feet back, strengthening his stance. In one fluid motion, he pulled out his own sword and created a delicate arc. The man's arm was lost in the swing, and he knelt where he stood, unable to scream as he looked at the horror his appendage had become.

"A L-Loyalist!" exclaimed one of the cowering samurai, pointing to Taichi. "Y-You've not heard the last of us, fiend! Our numbers are plentiful! We will come back for you! Mark my words!"

"I can't mark 'em if I don't even know who you are," Taichi retorted with a shrug. "Anyway, it's probably a good idea if you step away from that temple. The priests are going to have to purify this place a thousand times over now that blood's been spilled. And before you get any crazy ideas, I'm not a Loyal - "

Rude as they were, the small dispatch of samurai fled before Taichi could finish his utterance. Squinting, he noticed that the Rebels' armor was ashen, just like their masks. It was as if they were covered in the stuff, but once the light hit them at the right angle, Taichi was impressed to see that it was actually a brilliant crimson beneath. What weird armor, he thought. And not even an insignia to show what clan they belong to. How preposterous! The samurai shook his head, puffed up his chest, and allowed himself a moment of pride before strutting into the shrine (but not before purifying himself with a prayer and holy water). Clearing his throat with a cough, the brown-haired boy stepped into the entrance of the shrine with a flourish, tossing his hair dramatically as he asked, "Is everyone all right?"

But everyone in the shrine was still fast asleep, blissfully unaware of what could have happened to them only moments ago. Taichi's grin deflated into a grimace as he dragged himself back to his corner, muttering something or other about how lucky they all were to have him around. He never drifted off to sleep. He wanted to stay cautious, just in case the fools decided to come back, thinking he was asleep. Every warrior was instilled with a certain degree of paranoia, after all. But they never came, and before everyone in the facility woke up, Taichi remembered the Tengu that had alerted him to the danger in the first place. What on earth happened? Was I just seeing things? Though he delighted in hearing the stories his grandfather used to tell about olden Japan and its various spirits roaming the land, he never stopped to think that any of it could be real. The stories kept him on his toes spiritually, and if he happened to pass an area with a shrine or temple, he would almost always stop and pray, even if he couldn't stay long. These thoughts boggled his mind as he sat in his corner, pushing his fingers against his forehead in deep concentration.

Yamato was the first to wake up. Taichi had to reposition himself to look away from the boy's alluring beauty; he couldn't afford to think of how close he had been to those lips the night before. But he succumbed to the fantasy, his ears perking up upon hearing Yamato's groans as he stretched his muscles as one usually does after a long bout of sleep. But thoughts of the musician were not impure in his mind. While thinking of his strange encounter with what he had decided could only be a Tengu, he realized that the creature had helped him save Yamato. There could be nothing wrong with that in the slightest. He silently thanked the Tengu in his prayers, especially after knowing how famous the heavenly beings were for their mischief.

"Good morning, Taichi," said the musician groggily, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "You're up early, aren't you?"

"You don't even know the half of it," replied the samurai. He wanted to tell his companion all about his experience, and he wanted to do so out of earshot of the rest of the company. He took Yamato's hand in his and pulled him outside and began to recount his tale. The graceful boy listened intently, nodding when appropriate, and when Taichi finished, he took on a puzzled look. They were sitting beneath the same tree that the musician had napped under the other night, and their heads felt much clearer in this location.

"What a fascinating story," Yamato remarked after thinking a while. "But...you chopped someone's arm off?"

"The proof isn't too far off from the shrine," muttered Taichi. "That's beside the point, though! A Tengu was there! And it basically told me what was going on!"

"And you were near some sort of spring? That's definitely odd. Are you sure it wasn't just the water or something?"

"Um...well, I don't know. But it can't have happened twice. What are the odds? It was the same red beak thing from before, remember? Way back when we were in the forest, right before Odawara? I mean, it's been a while, but you remember, right?" Taichi desperately wanted to hear that he was not crazy.

"I believe you, Taichi! I do. But both times you were the only one to experience it, so I can't agree for certain, can I?" The musician leaned against the steadfast tree and shaded his eyes from the sunlight, which began to pour in with the arrival of morning. "And last time, we had to go to a priest, and he...extracted some sort of...spirit from you. What if it just came back?"

"That...seems logical," Taichi admitted. "But even if I'm 'sick' again, doesn't this say something? If it happens a third time, I'm going to say that 'something' is definitely going on. And it's absolutely not just a one-time thing."

"I agree. Well, hopefully it won't happen again...how's your memory?" Yamato asked, a serious look in his enchanting blue eyes. "I'm going to ask you again in an hour, and if you can't remember what we were talking about, I'll ask the priest to help you out."

"I think I'm fine. I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm all right. But then again, it didn't happen all that long ago, and I'm pretty sure I haven't been asleep for a week like last time." Taichi buried his hands in his nest of hair and sighed. "You know, between the two of us, we really need to stop getting sick. We'll never reach Kyoto at this rate."

With a kind laugh, Yamato stood up and offered his hand to Taichi. "Let's go. We'll be fine now that we have an entourage. We'll get there in no time."

The boys left the tree and walked the short distance back to the shrine. Taichi breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the gang of samurai still asleep on the floor, snoring as loud as ever. Though they were only gone for a few minutes, he was still afraid that the Rebels would attack once he was out of sight. Maybe our Hara guys weren't their targets at all, Taichi pondered. But why would they even risk attacking a shrine? Who else would they want dead? Taichi didn't like to think about such things for too long, so the ideas were out of his head as soon as he thought them up. After all, there was no way he could know for certain who they were attacking; they were long gone. And he had an arm to prove it. Before Yamato could see the bloody arm on the forest floor, he kicked it into a bush with an innocent whistle.

"Speaking of spirits, did you feel some sort of...presence...in the shrine last night?" asked Yamato.

"Uh...no, not that I know of," Taichi replied. "Why do you ask?"

"I could have sworn I felt someone...or some thing...hovering over me while I was asleep," he explained. "It wasn't eerie at all, though. It was actually kind of nice. It was a warm sort of feeling...yes, I think that's the word. I felt safe."

It took a moment to realize that Yamato was actually talking about him. Startled, Taichi laughed unnaturally loudly, pointing his red face away from the musician. "Ha! Ha! Oh...yeah! No, no, I didn't feel a thing, or see anything, or climb over anything, nope, nothing like that! I would've known! Yeah, absolutely...hah...anyway, I'm just glad you're okay. Maybe you were dreaming is all. Yep! That's all it could have been!"

Before long, the monks woke up from their slumber and wordlessly began their chores for the day. Yamato asked if he could help prepare breakfast. The holy men seemed to be capable of smiling only at the beautiful boy, and had enough glares to spare for the rest of the ragtag gang. With a disarming smile, Yamato bowed several times and said a few words of apology. Somehow, that was all he needed to convince them to let him cook. Taichi was quite excited for another taste of Yamato's cooking; it had been far too long since he ate even the simplest of rice balls. It was as if the musician took the culinary arts as seriously as his koto: he performed his breathing ritual for a minute or two before grabbing Taichi's short sword and leaving the shrine. The samurai feared that his friend would use it to hack away at some foliage, but the forest surrounding Kotonomama Hachimanguu was still the whole time until Yamato returned with an armful of bamboo shoots and a fistful of herbs. Taichi was sure that if he had been the one to extract these goods from the forest, he would warrant the wrath of the monks and all their angry prayers, but since it was the blond boy, it felt as if they couldn't be happier. People were fickle creatures.

With his skillful hands he transformed the raw materials. No one complained about Yamato borrowing these plants from the forest (that's the word the monks used, rather than "stole") once they had a taste of the lovely bamboo stew he concocted. The Hara samurai wolfed down their portions quickly. Though they seemed the type used to eating more than one helping of food, the burly men were sated with one bowl. Yamato smiled mysteriously as he dutifully took the dirty dishes to the back of the shrine. "That should give you all enough energy to get us to Kyoto," he reminded them with a smile. They were strangely eager to take Taichi and Yamato up the mountain after having such a delicious meal.

As Taichi gathered up the few belongings he and Yamato shared, the musician knelt down next to him. "Taichi, what did you say this shrine was called again?"

"It's a long name. Kotonomama Hachimanguu Jinja," replied Taichi dutifully. He had been here many times before and knew the passageway well, and enjoyed reciting the name whenever possible. "Why?"

"Oh, no real reason. I just knew it sounded familiar. Sei Shonagon wrote of this place many times in her books," explained Yamato, the artist within him glowing. "It is said that this is a place that will grant wishes. Isn't that silly?"

Silent for time, Taichi processed the last bit of information carefully, looking at the back of Yamato's head with a longing glance. But he shook the thought from his head and forced himself to laugh. "Yeah," he agreed reluctantly. "Silly."

The two boys thanked the monks who had allowed them to stay at the shrine after the rowdy bunch of warriors ambled out to the front with the palanquin without so much as a glance at the place. The monks were not people to feel disdain for people, so rather than sigh at the disregard shown to them, they went back to their chores and their prayers and hoped Taichi and Yamato would arrive at Kyoto safely. With the warmth of Yamato's stew keeping their bellies full and happy, the Hara boys launched themselves through the mountain, Yamato clinging onto Taichi for dear life as they traveled up top.

The samurai held Yamato as close as he could without cause for alarm as they sped past each port town, smiling down at the boy gently. His Kiyohime did not seem to notice, and with this lovely creature in his arms, Taichi could put the strange Tengu meeting out of his mind. If he had to think of the odd situations he had been in, he knew exactly what place was best at answering questions of the occult nature. Kyoto was close at hand, and yet all Taichi could think about was the wish he had made on the shrine floor at Kotonomama Hachimanguu.

"I wish I could have you, Yama."


Notes:

1. Digimon enemies' names, made to sound Japanese: Dabumon = Devimon; Doukeshi = Clown = Piedmon; Kyuuketarou = Kyuuketsu = Blood-sucking = Bat = Myotismon; Etekou = monkey/personification of a monkey = Etemon. Clever, eh?
2. These samurai are ridiculously fast. Possibly even superhumanly fast. Traveling from Hara to Nissaka is a good 52 mile walk, and they were carrying both Taichi and Yamato on their backs. The area is regarded to be one of the most difficult spots to get through on the Tokaido.
3. The story of Princess Kaguya varies, and Taichi's version is condensed. In some retellings, Kaguya was actually banished to earth for a crime, but the one that is ordinarily told does not have that plot twist.
4. A reference to "If I Told You" from the Wedding Singer musical! Major props if anyone gets that.
5. Sei Shonagon is one of the prominent female novelists of her time, rivaled by the greater-known Murasaki Shikibu. Her "Pillow Book" is the equivalent to reading a Heian version of People magazine.
6. Kotonomama Hachimanguu is apparently noted for being a shrine where your every wish will be granted. It is located in Nissaka in the Shizuoka prefecture of Japan.