Toruko's body lay stretched out under the camphor tree, cold and stiff. His blank eyes stared at nothing, yet they seemed to pierce San's soul, filling her with shock, horror, grief… and guilt.
You could have saved me. San backed away, shaking her head frantically.
"There was nothing I could have done," she pleaded.
You did not even try. More of us are dying every day. What have you done to stop it?
"I do try. I've always fought to protect the forest."
If you are trying, then you are not trying hard enough! Toruko lifted his head and San recoiled. His mouth hung open slackly, revealing rotting fangs and the dull brown of dried blood. His eyes, so bright and keen in life, had faded to the milky opaqueness of a fish's stomach.
You have cowered in the cave while your mother risks her life to fight the humans! You know that we are being killed, you know that the forests are burning, and yet you do nothing to stop it! Toruko stood and staggered towards her on rigid, twisted legs. Fresh blood flowed from his wounds, drenching his matted fur. From his decaying mouth a single word hissed out, rank with the stench of death.
Human!
San woke with a gasp. Next to her, Sambro whined softly and twitched in his sleep. She moved away from him, shivering a little in the cold night air. That prickling feeling was in her eyes again. She rubbed it away angrily. Wolves did not cry. She had not understood it the first time she wept, years ago for some forgotten reason. Her mother had reassured her, explained that some animals cried to show sadness, that it was normal.
By "some animals," she meant humans. It's not normal, not for wolves. It doesn't solve anything. There's something wrong with me. I'm unnatural, I'm weak, I'm- But she stopped herself before she could think the cursed word. She shook her head hard enough to make herself dizzy, but the dream images would not leave. They forced her to think back, to remember…
Three days ago, returning from a successful hunt, Mother had paused suddenly. She sniffed the air and San copied her, but was unable to pick up any unusual scents. Mother, however, tensed and said "This way." San and her brothers followed unquestioningly.
They had found Toruko's body where the humans had left it, stiff and bloody underneath the otherwise unspoiled canopy of trees. San knew even before she ran forward and touched his cold, still form that he was dead. A living animal could never lie in that grotesque position. Even a god could not survive losing that much blood. Her brothers drew back uncertainly as Mother approached. She nuzzled his body gently.
"No bullet holes," she observed, calm and focused as always. "That's some comfort. If they had been carrying guns, he might have been turned into a demon." San and her brothers shuddered. They had not yet seen one of the demons for themselves, but they had seen the paths of poisoned land that the former gods left behind them.
"He was the last of the tanuki gods," Mother continued. "Setoru, Nigihayami, Teshima… all the others are already dead." She backed away, and San was startled to see painful, open grief in her mother's dark eyes. None of them had been close friends with Toruko. Then Mother said "We must sing a deathsong, to mark the passing of another clan," and she realized that her mother was mourning the most recent of many losses for the animals- and yet another victory for the humans.
Mother tilted her head back, the weak autumn sunlight cascading down her beautiful fur, and began to howl. San, Sambro, and Komo joined in, their young voices supported by their mother's sorrowful cry. The forest did not fall silent in response; it pulsed with too much life to achieve a true silence, but the screeches, yelps, and other sounds that usually filled it quieted. Together, the land and the animals mourned the death of another race of gods.
All this San might have been able to accept and move on from, if not for the words her mother had spoken as they returned to their cave.
"It was like that when Kurai died," Mother had said softly. San did not need to look at her brothers to know that they were suddenly as alert as she was. Kurai was the name of their father. He had been killed by humans before Sambro and Komo were old enough to remember him and before San had been adopted. Mother seldom spoke about him, and they had learned to stop asking questions.
"He went out to hunt and never returned. I waited longer than I should have, not wanting to leave Sambro and Komo. By the time I found him, it was too late. There was nothing I could do except sing his deathsong."
That was what had created the fear that had spawned her nightmare. She had been taught for as long as she could remember how dangerous humans were. She knew how powerful the enemy she had chosen to fight was. But never before had she considered the possibility that the humans might actually win. Each time one of the most ancient trees was cut down or one of the gods was killed, she had raged against the humans and vowed revenge. Never once had it occurred to her that for every human who's death she gloried in, an animal had been brought closer to extinction. If her mother, in all her wisdom and strength, had been unable to save her mate Kurai, then how could any of them save the forest?
We might lose. San stood up and began to pace angrily. They could not lose! Not after they had all fought for so hard and so long- wolves, boars, apes, even the timid deer.
If we did lose…She knew what would happen. The forest would burn. The rivers would be choked with filth from the humans' mining and finally cease to flow. The gods would be slaughtered. Pups would be killed in their dens before they were old enough to fight.
What would they do to me? She hated herself for this selfish thought but found she couldn't help pursuing it. Would they kill and skin her as they would with the other wolves? Or would they see her as a human traitor and do something worse-no, she had to stop thinking like that. What about the other human, the one who's life she had saved three years ago? Would that human, once so frightened and grateful to her, now kill her on sight? Had she already been killed by one of the other gods?
"San?" She stopped and turned around. Mother's steady gaze caught and held her.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," San mumbled, knowing her mother would see through the lie.
"San, I know when something's bothering you." San remained silent, trying to put her thoughts into words. At last she whispered, "I'm scared." She had never admitted to being frightened before.
"Of what?" Mother stood and drew closer to her. San did not want to voice her thoughts, which seemed feeble and cowardly in the presence of her mother's warm, reassuring strength. Only when the silence between them began to feel unbearable with the weight of unspoken words did she finally ask, "Do you ever think that, maybe… maybe the humans will win?" Outside the cave, cicadas chirped endlessly. A fox yipped. A few kodamas clicked half-heartedly. Inside the cave, the only sound was that of breathing: slow and steady from her brothers, louder and rougher from her mother, quick and shallow from herself. When Mother finally spoke, it was without reproach, but with some other, harder to define emotion.
"It's not about winning anymore, San. The humans have advanced and grown stronger, while we gods have remained static and unchanging. The world can never go back to the way it was. Perhaps it shouldn't go back. It would be a lie, after all, to say that the gods were always kind and beneficent towards humans." San leaned in closer to her mother, listening.
"The goal now is to keep fighting. We still have a chance to win. The humans might simply destroy themselves, as they have before. But the important thing is to continue fighting. If we give up, then it won't matter whether the humans wipe themselves out or not; we will have lost. Do you understand, San?" She did not fully understand, not then, but she nodded anyways.
"Then go back to sleep," Mother said softly. Obediently, she returned to Sambro's side and curled up once more. It took a while for her to fall back asleep, but once she did, she discovered that her mother's words had not killed the nightmares. They had just been pushed farther away.
The next morning, San found herself torn between two conflicting instincts; absolute faith in her mother and a deep-seated need to express the thoughts that continued to haunt her. It didn't take long for her family to notice.
"What's wrong with you today?" Komo asked. "You're as jumpy as a young deer."
"Don't try to deny it," Sambro added as she opened her mouth. "You've never been a good liar." Mother said nothing; she simply watched and waited expectantly. San gave in. Lifting her head defiantly, she said, "I want to go on a raid." Her mother's eyes narrowed.
"I've told you before, San. You're too young."
"No I'm not," San answered, refusing to back down. "I can hunt. I can fight. What makes me unready to go on a raid against the humans?"
"You are impulsive and inexperienced," Mother replied flatly.
"How can I gain any experience if you never let me fight?" she demanded.
"She's right," said Komo. "We can't learn how to defeat the humans by hiding in the cave all the time." San threw a glance at Sambro, hoping he would intervene. He met her gaze, then said, "You should let us fight. The forest is our home too." Mother's wise yellow eyes traveled over the three of them, searching for some hesitation or uncertainty. At last, she inclined her head in acceptance.
"Very well." She walked to the cave entrance and paused, waiting for them to follow her. When they did, she trotted out and down the path into the trees.
"We might as well attack today," she said. "Some of the humans will probably be outside the protection of the town, digging for gun-metal." San and her brothers walked obediently behind their mother, worried that showing too much excitement would cause her to change her mind. Mentally, San rejoiced.
At last I can fight them! I can avenge Toruko and Father and all the other gods. And this time, I won't make a mistake. I shouldn't have helped that human last time; it wasn't the kind of thing a wolf should do.
She felt a twinge of remorse at this last thought. The human had truly seemed good. She hadn't acted like a killer, the way the others did. But if San wanted to prove herself to her mother, then she couldn't afford to make exceptions. San pulled herself out of these thoughts in time to notice that Sambro and Komo had quickened their pace. She started to speed up, then changed her mind and leaped onto Sambro's back instead. He gave her a look that suggested simultaneous annoyance and resignation. She smirked smugly back at him.
Whenever San was excited, all her senses seemed to sharpen. Right now, with the prospect of a fight approaching, she could identify every sound that drifted through the forest, from the rustle of a slight breeze to a fox's distant cry. She imagined she could even hear her own heartbeat. She could see the faint imprints of animal tracks along the forest floor, hoofprints and pawprints and the slender scratches of bird claws. Beneath her hands, every hair on Sambro's back felt separate and distinct, the coarse outer fur and the soft layer close to his skin. She inhaled deeply, savoring the smells of the forest, her forest, the forest she had sworn to protect. Mixed in with the familiar scents of the trees was a smell she recognized, more from her mother's descriptions than personal experience: hot, thick, and faintly oily. Boars. Mother said nothing, but San noted the way her ears swiveled to catch any sound of an approach. They continued on in silence, the boars' scent growing steadily stronger. San scanned the thick undergrowth warily. Wolves and boars respected each other, but respect did not guarantee safety. At last, she saw them. The herd consisted of only five boars. A large, chestnut colored male with magnificent tusks led the way followed by two smaller boars and a pair of dark gray females. The leader paused. Mother stopped as well, facing him with a relaxed, purposeful confidence.
"Good hunting to you, Moro of the wolf tribe," said the lead boar.
"And to you, Nago of the boar tribe," Mother replied.
Nago! San and her brothers exchanged swift, excited glances. According to the stories they had heard, Nago was one of the most powerful gods in the forest. He had led repeated attacks against the humans, always emerging triumphantly.
"What are you and your pups doing so far from your territory?" Nago asked.
"I'm taking them on a raid." San noticed one of the male boars looking at her curiously. She bared her teeth and growled at him. Nago glanced at her, and she thought she saw a flicker of amusement in his expression.
"I see," he said, turning back to Mother. "Perhaps we could accompany you."
"Why would you choose to fight with us?" Mother asked, a note of challenge in her voice.
"We were going to the human town anyways." Nago paused, then continued in a more subdued tone, "They killed my mate Shikana two days ago." An awkward, painful silence ensued.
"I am sorry," Mother said at last. "I know how it feels to lose a loved one. Of course you may join us." Nago took up a position beside her and the other boars filed into place behind him. One of the female boars ended up next to San and Sambro. No sooner had they started to move again than she began asking questions.
"Are you the one the humans call Princess Mononoke?" she demanded.
"Yes," San answered.
"I just call her annoying little sister," Komo added.
"Ignore him," Sambro advised. "He ate a poisonous mushroom when he was little, and he's never been quite right since."
"Who's side are you on?" Komo demanded.
"San's, for now. She's in the perfect position to pull my ears if I don't stick up for her."
"I don't need you to stick up for me," San protested. "I can take care of myself."
"I know how you feel," said the boar. "I've got an older brother too. My name is Okori, by the way." San introduced herself and her brothers. A few more questions from Okori and some sarcastic comments from Komo were enough to send the four young ones into a lengthy conversation. San quickly discovered that she liked Okori. The female boar was relaxed and friendly, and unlike many of the other gods San had encountered, she didn't question San's place as a member of the wolf clan. Best of all, Okori's hatred of humans dispelled her lingering doubts about joining the raid.
"You can't trust humans at all," Okori explained when the subject came up. "The old boars say humans used to worship us and that all this fighting is because so many humans have chosen to follow a new religion that has no respect for the gods. I think if humans ever worshipped us, it was out of fear, not respect. Humans are filled with nothing but fear and hatred."
"They live in packs, like us," objected Sambro. "I'm sure they care about each other, at least."
"They don't," Okori replied. "I saw a group of human refugees once, fleeing a town destroyed by other humans. When one of them became too weak to go on, the others didn't even slow down. They just kept going and left their comrade to die. That's how selfish humans are." By the time they reached the human town, San felt reassured and confident. Together, the boars and wolves paused on a ridge overlooking the mines where countless humans labored to tear their gun-metal from the earth's flesh. They looked like vultures ripping chunks of meat from the carcass of a dying animal, an image reinforced by the disgusting smell overhanging the area and the bare patches of reddish earth on the hillside.
"Before we attack, Nago, I would like a word with my pups," Mother said abruptly.
"As you wish," Nago replied indifferently.
"San, Sambro, Komo," said Mother, a hard edge to her voice. "Look at me." All three of them met their mother's eyes nervously.
"I want to remind you how serious this is. This isn't hunting, where the prey poses little threat to you. It's certainly not playing, like in your games. If you're clumsy or reckless, they will kill you. Follow my directions and do not take risks. I know that if one of you treats this as just another game, the other two will do likewise. Remember what you are facing. I do not want this day to end with another deathsong, and none of you want to live with the knowledge that someone died because of your mistake." Mother held eye contact with them for a moment longer, then returned her gaze to the mines. San, who felt her confidence wavering again, glanced at Okori.
"Don't worry," said the young boar quietly. "Humans are pretty easy to kill."
"Enough talk," snorted one of the males. "Let's fight!"
"The boar clan will lead the charge," Nago announced. He raised his enormous, curving tusks to the sky and released a blasting, shrieking cry that was more scream than squeal. Below them, humans turned, and although San was too far away to see their faces, she imagined their terrified expressions. Nago and his boars surged downwards, still trumpeting their war cries.
"Follow me!" Mother ordered, and the four of them leaped after the boars. San clung tightly to her brother's fur, hearing the clang of the warning gong and the confused rush of human voices. A strange hissing sound filled the air, and she ducked instinctively as several arrows flew by. She looked up in time to see a human, eyes wide with terror, but resolutely standing his ground, hurl a spear at her. Once again, she acted on instinct. Her battle-numbed mind barely conscious of her actions, she seized the spear as it flew towards her, twisting its point away from her chest. Ahead of her, one of the male boars grunted and stumbled as several arrows pierced his side. With a deafening roar Nago leaped to his defense, heedless of the arrows that now protruded from his own hide. The sharp smell of blood joined the reek of sweat, dirt, fire, and metal.
"San!" shouted Okori. Both San and Sambro whipped towards her as a human aimed his gun straight at them. Komo slammed into the man, knocking the weapon out of his hands. Sambro wheeled to charge at the fallen enemy, who lunged for his gun. Komo grabbed and crushed it in his powerful jaws. The three siblings closed in, and it was so much like hunting, so much like trapping a wounded prey animal so that the killing blow could be dealt, that when San leaned over and plunged her spear into the human's chest, she forgot for a moment what she was killing. Then she made the mistake of looking into the human's eyes. In the broken fragment of time that they stared at each other, San registered every detail of the human's face. How his lips moved, trying to form words. How blood (his or someone else's?) had left a scarlet trail on his cheek. How his eyes, which were a deep shade of brown, were already growing dull, although death could not erase his expression of shock.
He didn't think I would really kill him.
Something struck her right shoulder. She still clutched the spear in both hands, so there was no way for her to grab hold of Sambro's fur. She fell, hearing the enraged snarls of her brothers and the furious battle cries of the boars. Something soft and wet broke her fall. It was the body of the human she had just killed, soaked with his own blood. She scrambled off him, and as she did so a burst of pain filled her shoulder. Looking at it, she saw a dagger, its blade buried in her arm.
"Get down! NOW!" Years of obeying her mother's voice caused San to drop to the ground without hesitation. A rush of searing gunfire exploded over her. She covered her ears against the sound, but was too slow to block out Komo's agonized cry. No sooner had the barrage stopped than she leaped to her feet again, searching wildly for her brother. Sambro stood beside her, shaken but unhurt. Okori limped towards them. Nago and the other boars were locked in combat with the arrow-wielding humans, while Mother tore through the ranks of the gun-humans. A short distance away from this bloody spectacle lay Komo, his pale fur stained with the darkness of gore and mud. San ran towards him, heedless of the hot liquid that now flowed freely from her injured shoulder, the spear grasped in one hand. Before she could reach him, the ground burst apart in front of her. Again, she was knocked to the ground. Lifting her head, she saw for the first time her attacker. A woman stood at the head of the gun-humans, coolly reloading her weapon. San had never seen humans take orders from a female before, but when this woman commanded "Fire!" the other humans fired without hesitation. There was no need for her to dodge their bullets this time, because they weren't aiming at her. They were aiming at her mother. Before San could run to her, Okori blocked her path.
"Moro can take care of herself! We have to get Komo out of here!" Okori shouted over the roar of battle. At the same time, the hard voice of the gun woman rang out.
"Kill the wolf cub! Fire!" As San sprinted desperately towards her brother, a human stepped forward and aimed her gun with shaking hands.
"NO!" San screamed, as though that single word would be enough to protect Komo. At the sound of her voice, the human turned, pointing her gun at her instead, and San realized that she recognized the woman.
I guided you. I helped you, back at the mountain pass. I fought Toruko to protect you.
With a squeal of rage, Okori leaped between San and the human. San, now mere feet from her brother, did not pause to think about her friend's actions. As another wave of gunshots ripped through the air, she dropped onto all fours and crawled the rest of the way. She reached out and laid a hand on Komo's heaving chest. Sambro, still miraculously unscathed, growled "Get down!" More shots exploded, but there seemed to be fewer of them this time. The humans were running out of either ammunition or soldiers. Sambro seized Komo by the loose skin on the back of his neck and began dragging him away from the battle. San looked back for Okori and felt a sick, painful jolt, as though she had been shot.
"Okori…" A river of red gushed from the boar's chest, collecting in a thick puddle on the ground. Before full comprehension could set in, Mother appeared.
"Sambro, take care of San," she ordered. "I'll get Komo out of here."
"Okori," San repeated, numb with shock.
"I'll be fine," Okori gasped. "You… go on." Sambro grabbed San's shirt in his teeth and flung her onto his back. The boars, she noticed dimly, were retreating as well. She looked down at her hands, and was surprised to see both the spear and the knife clutched there.
They fled only a short distance, stopping at the edge of the forest. Okori came to a staggering halt at the rear. The other boars started to move towards her, but Nago ordered sharply, "Don't!" San had slid off Sambro's back intending to rush to Komo first, but something in Nago's voice made her pause. Okori trembled all over, her eyes wide in terror.
"Fire," she choked. "It hurts. Someone… help me…" Thick, dark tendrils like black worms began to emerge from her skin.
"A demon," Mother growled. "San, back away from her!" The darkness seeped across Okori, and a desperate cry tore itself from her.
"Help-" The word transformed into an incoherent squeal of agonized rage. The demon that had been Okori lunged at San. Again she acted without conscious thought, bringing the spear up towards the boar's throat. The maddened demon flung itself onto the spear point. A crimson spray splashed onto San's face; she released the weapon and jerked back in revulsion. The demon collapsed, the worms shriveling and sliding off as life drained away in a steady stream of red. The fading eyes that stared at San were unmistakably Okori's.
"San!" At the harsh note in her mother's voice, San turned away from the bloody corpse. Mother and Sambro stood over Komo, who lay on the ground whimpering, his left leg extended awkwardly. Blood flowed thickly from his shoulder.
"San, if we don't remove the bullet from him, he may become a demon as well." Mother's voice had the hard, forced calm that was the closest she ever came to sounding afraid.
"Sambro and I cannot bite or lick the bullet out. You must do it."
Don't think about Okori, not now. Help your brother first. She was vaguely aware of Nago speaking to Mother, of the other boars nuzzling Okori in a final farewell. The knife and spear lay forgotten on the ground while her trembling hands parted Komo's fur. From the blood, she knew the bullet must have gone in deep. She pressed her mouth to the wound and immediately tasted the hot, harsh flavor. She spat out the mouthful of blood and repeated the process.
I won't let him die. Not him too. Her hands fumbled at the wound. She touched hard, wet metal. The bullet nearly slipped away, but she seized it and, shutting out Komo's yelp of pain, pulled it out.
"Well done, San," said Mother softly. San stepped back and watched as she began gently helping Komo to stand.
Komo's hurt. Okori's dead. I killed her-no, they killed her. What I killed wasn't Okori anymore; it was a demon created by them.
"San," said Mother. "We're going home now. You should take the knife and spear." The boars were vanishing back into the forest, their heads lowered solemnly. San stared at the weapons in revulsion.
"I don't want them. They're human tools."
"They're human tools that you can use," Mother replied simply. Reluctantly, she picked them up. Sambro offered to let her ride on his back, but she declined. There was no point, since they had to walk slowly due to Komo's injury. She continued to think about the raid, matching her thoughts to the rhythm of her steps.
It's humans that have done all this. It's their fault. We can live with them, but they can't live without killing us. We have no choice but to fight back.
Two faces surfaced in her mind: the gun-woman and the human who's life she had once saved.
You killed Okori. You tried to kill me. You almost killed my brother. I will never forgive you for that.
There could be no compromising with murderers. If it was a choice between her family's lives and theirs, she would choose her family.
I've killed one of you now. I did it once and I can do it again.
She would kill them with their own tools. She would use the human knife and the human spear with her human hands.
I don't want anyone else to die like Kurai and Toruko and Okori. I want to protect everyone.
If the only way to protect everyone was to fight and kill the humans, so be it.
I will protect them.
Author's Note: I'm really, really, really sorry I took so long to update. And (more bad news) this is the last chapter. Yes, it's possible that at some point I may become inspired and start it up again, but not likely. Also, in the future, expect most of my updates to be during summer, when I actually have free time. Thank you for reading.