A little girl, only six or seven, sat crouched on her heels picking up the jujubes that had fallen from their tree. She sang as she gathered them up, in that way that small children tend to; happily and without any particular melody, simply putting whatever idle thoughts they have into music.
"Sweet and juicy, tasty dates, I'll dry and eat them by the crate, and when they're gone, I'll pick some more, and eat until my tummy's sore…" she hummed as she stuffed little handfuls of the fruit down the front of her kimono. Her stomach rumbled in response, but she had to remember that these were for her entire family, not just her. She couldn't go eating them all herself, or her brothers would be hungry, like her. Well, maybe she could have just one or two. Nobody would know.
Ever since her father died last year, they have been hungry a lot. Sometimes, when she couldn't fall asleep because of how loud her stomach growled, she would go crawl into her mother's arms, and her mother would cry and pat her head until she slept. She loved having her hair stroked, but wished her mother wouldn't cry so much.
Just imagine how happy she'd be when her daughter showed up with an armful of ripe red fruit, shining like jewels. They would all eat until they'd had their fill, and her mother would pat her head and say "Well done" and smile the way she used to. The little girl nodded to herself. This was a good plan.
Suddenly, there was a soft sound in the undergrowth that made her pause. She cocked her head and listened. There it was again! A quiet mewling, almost lost beneath the babble of the stream where her mother and the other women sat doing the laundry and gossiping. Carefully holding her bulging robes closed in the front, the little girl brushed aside the low hanging branches and peered down the ravine behind the tree. There was something down there, the smallest patch of orange among the greens and browns. Seized with curiosity, the little girl carefully made her way down the slope, one hand still clutching the bundle of fruits to her chest.
A weedy cry drew her to a lump of fur so matted with mud and grime that only bits of orange showed through here and there. She poked it gently, and the thing sluggishly opened one brilliant yellow eye. It was a cat. No, a kitten.
"Hello little cat. What are you doing here all on your own? Are you hurt?" The little girl asked. The cat gave a pitiful whine in reply, and tried to bat her hand away when she went to touch its head, but didn't have the energy. The girl stroked it behind the ear, and its eyes drifted closed.
The little girl quite forgot about picking jujubes, and let go of her lapels. Half of the red dates spilled out onto the forest floor as she gathered the kitten carefully into her arms, cooing at it the way her mother did whenever she fell and scraped her knee.
She scrambled up the way she'd come, not caring that the cat in her arms was soiling one of her only sets of clothes.
"Mommy, Mommy, look what I found!" The little girl shouted as she ran to a figure whose frame was thin and gaunt, wrists and knuckles jutting unpleasantly as she beat dull, wet fabric against the stone. Her mother and the other women looked up and recoiled at the dirty, smelly animal the little girl held out to them. "Can we keep it?"
Her mother was the first to recover, putting down the washing and scolding the girl for getting mud all down her front. The little girl pouted and hugged the cat closer. Her mother sighed and crouched beside her daughter, inspecting the cat with a critical eye. She opened its mouth and ran her fingers down its too slender body, weighing it in the palms of her hands. The cat could not even lift its head to protest. Finally she pulled away.
"I don't know where you got him, but he is too weak. Even if we take him home, he won't survive the night." She told her gently. The little girl's eyes filled with tears and her lip quivered.
"No! I'll take care of him! I'll feed him, and I'll bathe him, and I'll give him a warm place to sleep and then he'll get better!" Her mother's face crumpled.
"We have no food to spare for a cat." She told her daughter, suddenly looking very old and watery, like she might cry again. The little girl did not want that, and rushed to reassure her by stuffing her hands into her clothes and pulling out tiny fistfuls of fruit.
"We have food! I found these over there, and I'm sure they'll be yummy." She declared proudly, unaware that it would not be enough. Her mother smiled sadly and took the dozen dates anyway, folding them into a rough handkerchief and slipping them into her sleeve.
"Well done." She patted her daughter's head, and the little girl melted against her fingers. She missed the devastated expression that came over the woman's face, the way her chin trembled and her shoulders shook. The other women looked darkly between themselves, a wave of pity passing through them.
"I know!" One of them exclaimed, a little too brightly. "Why don't you ask Tamayama no Eihei for his blessing! He is the guardian of the mountain, and all of the creatures who live on it. If you pray to him and leave the cat at his shrine with an offering, perhaps the God will heal your poor friend!"
All the women nodded and agreed that this was a brilliant idea, and the little girl beamed, her heart filling with hope. They helped her wipe the cat down with a damp cloth until his coat was not quite so filthy, and set him down under the warm sun to dry. All the while, he made no noise of protest and simply blinked up at the little girl from time to time, his yellow eyes drifting back and forth to follow her worried face.
Finally, one of the women offered to take the wet laundry from the mother to hang while she and her daughter walked to the shrine. It was a long trip, winding deep into the woods on tangled paths until the little girl no longer remembered which they had taken to get there. Her mother was silent beside her, and answered the questions of "where are we going?" and "are we there yet?" with distracted hums and grimaces.
Finally, after what seemed to be hours of walking, they came upon a little wooden structure with a sloping roof, no larger than a single tatami mat. It was old and neglected, but the twisted rope and white paper tassels hanging from the eves left little doubt that it was indeed a shrine, if only an auxiliary one. The older woman used a handful of twigs bound in twine to sweep the dirt and dried leaves that had collected in the corners.
"This shrine is dedicated to Tamayama no Eihei, the god of the mountain. Pray to him for a blessing, my darling girl. Pray with everything you have, and he will hear you." She spoke quietly, an unfamiliar, quavering note in her voice.
The girl nodded, and knelt before the little stone house tucked away at the back of the shrine. It was empty, except for a white paper talisman she couldn't read. Still, the little girl didn't question it. Her mother had never lied to her before.
She placed the kitten, all curled up and unmoving but for the too-slow rise and fall of its chest, in front of a little stone bowl meant for offerings. The woman took a deep, shuddering breath and handed her daughter the sack of dates from earlier. "Here, my child. Eat."
"But Mommy, I picked these for my brothers! There will be nothing for them if I eat them all." She denied vehemently, but her mother placed the bundle into her arms anyway. She was crying again, and the little girl didn't know why or how to fix it.
"You're a good girl." The woman said through her tears, patting her daughter's face and hair. "They will have more food tonight, I promise."
"Oh, good! They cried for hours yesterday." The little girl replied happily. Would there be food for her as well? It had been so long since she'd had rice. The patties in the fields had all gone dry weeks before because it had not rained and the little bits of bark and roots and watered down barley porridge was never enough.
Her mother let out a quiet, hiccuping sob, and bent down to sweep the little girl into her arms. She cradled the back of her small head and pressed her tiny ear to her heart, rocking her gently. It was exactly what she would do when the little girl was hurt or scared, only she wasn't now. Instead it was the mother who trembled.
"It's okay mommy." Said the little girl and patted her mother's head, the way she liked to have done. The woman sniffled loudly and pulled back, face pale and eyes bloodshot.
"Such a good girl." She dropped to her knees beside her daughter, clapped her hands twice, and then leaned down to press her forehead into the ground, muttering all the while in a broken torrent. She thought she heard the word "please" among the whispers.
Her mother rose to her feet, and looked down at her daughter and the cat, both skinny and bedraggled, like strays cast out on the side of the road. She closed her eyes as if she could no longer bear the sight.
"Pray, my girl. Pray to Tamayama no Eihei, and ask for his protection. I'll be back when the gods have answered." She said, and stepped away.
The little girl nodded and did as her mother had done, clapping her hands and leaning down to let her nose brush the richly scented earth. Faintly, she heard the rustle of retreating footsteps, but did not think much of it. Her mother would be back, she'd said. She probably had gone off to relieve herself just around the corner. She would be back.
Her mother had never lied to her before.
But she did not know how to pray. It seemed rather a large favor to ask of a stranger, taking care of a creature that had been abandoned, even if it was a God. She eyed the little bowl in front of her, wondering if there was anything she could give in return for this help. Her stomach rumbled loudly just at that moment, and she remembered that she did have something. She opened the sachet filled with jujubes, which looked plump and glossy, if a bit bruised. Her stomach growled again, but she reminded herself that there would be more food tonight, maybe even rice, and so perhaps she could spare the fruit.
She filled the bowl with dates and draped the cloth they'd been wrapped in across the little cat, who had begun to shiver and wheeze.
"Tamayama no Eihei-sama," She said with her head bowed and hands clasped. "Please protect this little creature. It's hungry, and scared, and alone. It has no mother, and no house to live in, and no food to eat. But I found it, and I'll do my best to take care of it, so please let it live."
She repeated it over and over again, until her knees grew sore and her eyelids heavy. Her mother had been gone a long time, and the little girl was very sleepy now, so she decided a nap sounded nice. Her mother would wake her when she returned, and they would go home together and eat rice.
She fell asleep curled around the kitten, her little fingers halfway through the motion of stroking its soft fur.
Later, when the forest was dark and silent but for the night time noises—the chirps of crickets, the creaks and groans of shifting wood, the soft flutter of hunting wings—a figure approached the shrine on soundless feet, with only the dappled moonlight to guide his way. He was an unremarkable sort of fellow; very tall, and dressed in a plain indigo yukata and straw sandals. A large gourd with a cork stuck in the top was slung over his shoulder with a hemp cord, and two swords—one long and one short—decorated his waist. One might have mistaken him for an old man by the disheveled white hair that was half pulled up at his temples, but the face beneath the silver stubble peppering his chin appeared no older than forty.
He strode up to the little shrine tucked away beside the winding path with a calm, unhurried gait, and did not hesitate at the flicker of light emanating from within. Someone was there that had not been there before.
"Ohoho, what have we here?" The man exclaimed as he peered inside. His voice was low and gruff, but warm, and his steel gray eyes were crinkled at the corners. "I came to see about a creature who needed protection, but instead I find it doing the protecting instead."
The little girl lay where she had dozed off hours before, oblivious to the stranger that had come to answer her earnest, childish prayers. Her hands still clenched the brown cloth she had laid lovingly over the animal she had poured her heart out for, and the jujubes sat uneaten in the offering bowl. But the cat had gone.
In its place was a boy, roughly the same age, with a shock of orange hair and luminous golden eyes slashed down the middle with feline pupils. He crouched defensively over the slumbering child, sharp claws extended toward the intruder and teeth bared in warning. Small flames flickered in the air around him, winking in and out of existence like invisible candles in the wind.
The older man took a step forward to enter the shrine, but the boy hissed and took a swipe at his shin, forcing him to leap back and out of range. "Woah! Nearly nicked me, there. Good reflexes, my young friend, very quick. You can relax though, I don't mean any harm to either of you."
The boy quite plainly did not believe him, and simply glared harder, his short hair bristling at the back. The older man sighed and scratched his rough chin and grumbled, "Can't believe I'm being attacked in my own shrine."
He took a moment to size up the defensive boy, before plopping down on the ground directly in front of him. He paid no attention to the bewildered expression he received at his nonchalance, and proceeded to pop the cork on his gourd and take a hearty swig of the contents. He beckoned to the offering bowl with a casual wave. It lept eagerly into his waiting hand of its own accord and he plucked a jujube out of it, examining it closely. "A bit crude, but it is a child, so I suppose it'll do." He said as he popped it into his mouth.
"Hey, that's not yours!" The boy finally spoke, and rudely at that. He tried to steal back the bowl, but the man held it above his head and out of his reach. The young spirit seemed reluctant to go far enough away from the sleeping girl to have another go at it.
"Isn't it?" The older man spit out the seeds and ate another, looking unfazed at the incensed look on the young spirit's face. "As I am the God of the mountain, and this is my shrine, and my bowl, and my prayers, I rather think it is mine, wouldn't you agree?"
The boy gaped at him, surveying the unassuming man in disbelief. "You're a God? But you're…"
"Human?" He said with a chuckle, taking another drink. "Unusual, I know. Although, I wouldn't say I'm quite human. Not a spirit either. I guess I'm somewhere in the middle."
He finished the bowl of fruit, licking the juice from his lips with a satisfied smile. "The name's Komorebi, but people around here call me Tamayama no Eihei. I'd prefer it if you used the former, I'm not really big on titles. Makes me feel awkward."
The God poured a generous amount of some pale yellow, fragrant liquid into the bowl and slowly slid it towards the boy like he was offering an armistice instead of a beverage. The boy scowled at it as if it had personally offended him.
"Why should I trust you?" He snapped warily.
"Because it's delicious."
The cat glared in silence for a few moments more before huffing and reluctantly accepting it. He sniffed it suspiciously, shooting glances at the older man across from him all the while, and then took a cautious sip. His face went red, and he immediately started coughing and spluttering, tossing the bowl carelessly aside. The man caught it deftly, and gazed longingly at the wet patch of dirt that was slowly absorbing the spilled draft.
"Bit dramatic, don't you think?" He scolded gently, pouring himself a measure instead.
The boy glared at him through watering eyes, "What sort of poison was that?!" He demanded.
Komorebi scoffed, "It's not poison, it's plum wine! A very good plum wine, I'll have you know. Wasted on you, I see. You must be fairly green to have not yet developed an appreciation for prime alcohol, my young friend. Tell me, how did you come to be here at my shrine?"
The boy glowered and looked away, absently fiddling with a lock of the sleeping girl's hair as he pouted. Comprehension dawned on Komorebi's face as he looked between the two. The spirit had no idea how or why he had manifested just there, but the more experienced man could make an educated guess.
"Ah, I see. Very green indeed then." He muttered thoughtfully. The young boy continued to sulk quietly, refusing to look at the God in front of him. Komorebi rubbed the back of his neck as he considered the fledgling spirit and the little girl, all alone in the middle of nowhere.
"Hey, kid, you got anywhere to go?" He asked, in a more gentle tone than he had before. The boy's shoulders hitched up defensively, but still he said nothing. Komorebi sighed and looked to the little girl, still snoozing peacefully and half hidden behind her ever vigilant guard. "What about her?"
This got a response. The boy gave a low feline growl and his golden eyes burned and crackled like hot coals. "Her mother brought her here and then left! She abandoned her!" He accused scornfully.
Komorebi took in the thin arms and sunken cheeks, the cracked nails and brittle hair, and suddenly looked very sad. "Then it's best we return her."
The boy sprung to his feet in outrage, and more flames flickered into existence around him, casting dark shadows across his livid face. "You want to send her back to the woman that left her here to die?! Why? She clearly didn't love her enough to want to keep her around! What makes you think she won't just dump her back here the first chance she gets?!" He snarled, pacing back and forth across the entrance of the shrine.
Komorebi stood as well, and the boy craned his neck up to look at him, suddenly realizing how big he was. He was at least three times the cat's height and extremely broad across the chest, like a retired warrior. Looming over him like that, it was apparent just how tiny the boy and girl were by comparison. He had to fight not to shrink in his presence.
"You have very much to learn about the world, my young friend, if you think lack of love is the only motivation that could prompt such a desperate action. Everyone has their own lives, their own circumstances. Choices that would seem unconscionable to some are in fact the best that could be made among other options that are far worse. Sometimes, people are forced to choose the lesser of two evils, and suffer either way. You would do well to remember that." Komorebi said gravely.
The spirit looked down, properly chastised, and the older man sighed. "I happened to hear that mother's prayer, just before the little girl's. She was distraught, nearly unintelligible. She begged for my forgiveness, and my mercy. Not for herself, but for her children. I will grant her that mercy."
The boy stared at the man in wonder. With his imposing stature and wise eyes the color of weathered stone, he truly seemed like a God.
"But she'll still be hungry." The boy said in an uncharacteristically small voice. Komorebi raised an eyebrow.
"You're a cat, right? How about catching some fish?"
The boy grinned, his sharp canines gleaming in the soft light of the floating flames, and nodded. The God went to collect the little girl but was stopped when the boy stepped in front of him.
"I got it." And with that the boy stooped down and gracefully slung the little girl across his back. She stirred as he wrapped her arms around his neck and hitched her legs into the crooks of his elbows.
"Kitty?" She mumbled sleepily, eyes barely opening before slipping shut once again, head buried into his shoulder. The boy's ears went a little red at the sound of Komorebi's hearty laugh.
"You haven't got a name, have you?" He asked jovially.
"No."
Komorebi bent down to pluck a single red jujube from the ground where it had fallen from the slumbering girl's sleeve. He turned it around in his fingers, watching the golden light bounce off its lustrous red skin. He glanced at golden eyes.
"Natsume. Your name will be Natsume."
"And that's how I met Komorebi for the first time."
Two clawed fingers came away from Chihiro's forehead, just between her brows, and fell back to Natsume's side. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, having just shared a rather intimate memory with her. She was touched by the amount of trust he had been willing to place in her.
It was a strange sensation, what he called a memory channel. She expected it to be more like watching a movie in first person, a little fuzzy and indistinct, blurry around the edges like her own memories tended to be when she looked back on them, but it wasn't like that at all. Instead she floated outside of it all, watching things unfold as an incorporeal bystander. Everything was so real and immediate, like she was really standing right there smelling the earth and feeling the breeze on her face. That man Komorebi, she felt like she could've reached out and plucked a date from his hands. But of course she could not.
And Natsume, so young! He looked no older than six or seven, but had a grace and eloquence that would have been impossible for a human child the same age. She thought of Bou, and wondered if all Spirits were born with more developed brains.
She shook her head. Now was not the time to be pondering the intricacies of Spirit biology. She had so much to unpack. So many questions to ask. How was it possible that attempting to answer her questions had instead left her with even more questions?!
One thing stood out in her mind as being particularly strange. It was that girl.
The memory was supposed to be about his first meeting with Komorebi, but instead it seemed to center around the little girl, and this without Natsume even seeming to realize it. The whole focus surrounded her, and Chihiro even felt as if she were catching glimpses of her thoughts and feelings at times. It was bizarre, and she found herself more keen to ask about her than the God in question. Not that she wasn't curious about that mysterious figure, because she definitely was.
There was something oddly familiar about him, in his mannerism maybe. Like she'd seen him somewhere before but just couldn't put her finger on it. That was going to drive her mad.
Natsume was staring expectantly at her, waiting for the barrage of questions he no doubt knew she had. But she had to get one curiosity out of the way first.
"What about the little girl?" She asked. Natsume's brow furrowed in confusion, obviously having been thrown off by the unexpected line of inquiry.
"What about her?" He huffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. She gaped at him.
"What do you mean, 'what about her'? The whole thing was about her! What happened to her after that?" She demanded, incredulous at his indifference considering the very uncharacteristic level of protectiveness he'd shown in his memory.
He opened his mouth to say something, probably something rude, but a strange change came over him. His eyes went suddenly glassy, and his expression blanked out. It was like an invisible hand had passed over his face, erasing everything behind it in one swift, fatal motion.
Before she'd even had time to panic, it was gone, leaving only a slightly perturbed grimace.
"Natsume?" She asked in alarm. He shook himself, blinking rapidly like he'd just come out of a day dream.
"What did you say?"
"The little girl Natsume! You were just about to tell me about her when you went all funny. Are you alright?"
He blinked at her.
"What little girl?"