Chapter Twelve Violet #2
“Akira-sama.” I use an honorific, which makes Akira smile his terrifying smile again. “It is very odd that you’re here, as Ren says. Will you tell us why?”
While he enjoyed the honorific, he certainly doesn’t enjoy my question. His face darkens, so much so that I’d almost prefer his rapacious smile.
“Wherever did you find these irreverent children, Oda?” Akira mutters, scowling at the samurai mirror face as though it’s responsible.
Oda glares furiously—but not at Akira. Rather, he glares at us.
“Gods do not explain themselves to mortals. You should simply be happy I’ve deigned to join you.
Mortals these days have no respect. In the past, if I visited a village, I’d be worshipped and revered.
They would paint beautiful icons of me in tempera paint with gold.
They would erect a torii gate and a shrine, inscribed only for me.
But no one worships me here. It’s foolish of you mortals!
I bequeath divine favors for offerings, after all. ”
There it is.
Exactly what I hoped to hear.
“Divine favors?” Suddenly, Ren comes alive, setting down his teacup hard enough to make the liquid slosh over his fingers. He doesn’t seem to notice. “So, what kind of offerings? Something like flowers or food?”
“Of course, I do appreciate any gesture of reverence, but a divine favor requires an offering of magnitude.”
“Magnitude…” Ren pulls out his fox from his collar. His motions are so assured that I can tell he’s already considered it. “Would this count?”
Akira’s pupils flicker into a vertical slit. Lust fills his face, flashing like a dime in the sun. Even though the deer is light in my pocket, I still feel it. Should I take it out and add it to Ren’s fox?
“Why yes,” Akira says. “Very good, mortal. That would do indeed.”
“Kinda hard to do business when you don’t know who someone is,” Ren says. With precise movements, he tucks his fox into his shirt. “Why would we worship you when we don’t know anything about you? And what were you doing at the council meeting?”
“I don’t think that was me,” Akira replies.
“Is there another guy here who looks like he’s been dipped in silver and has a terrifying shadow? You pushed me against the wall.”
“Well, perhaps it was me. Did I look particularly ravishing? If so, then there’s a chance it was.”
“What did you do? When everyone got upset, the shadow got bigger.”
Akira is about to say something when he blinks.
It’s as though his glow is being switched on and off like a lamp.
His eyes widen in terror. The blinking intensifies.
The barrack shakes. The koi fish dive back into their basin.
The bonsai trees tuck their branches around their trunks.
Oda hides behind the mirror’s frame. Fear fills Akira’s eyes and his features begin to distort.
“What’s happening?” I ask, rising to my feet.
Our tea knocks over. It splashes onto the floorboards and soaks into the zabuton.
Ren reaches for me, his arm encircling my waist. I turn in his grip, embracing him as the supports groan and cracking sounds pop through the air.
He holds me close, stabilizing me against the shaking.
Terror alternates with awareness that I’m pressed against Ren, so tightly that I can feel the dip and rise of his body, even as fear shoots through me in sharp flashes.
Then Akira’s headless shadow leaps up, twisting free from him.
I watch in horror. Several grasping hands emerge.
They arch into the air above Akira as though about to pounce, fingers formed into horrifying claws.
I think they’ll descend on us, and once they do they might, I don’t know, kill us or melt us or dissolve us. Suddenly, they disappear.
I gasp. I’m not certain if it’s from relief or lingering terror.
Akira collapses onto the floor. Ren releases me.
He steps back quickly, as though he can’t get away from me fast enough.
Everything becomes still again. I straighten my dress.
My pulse calms. As it recedes, my skin buzzes where Ren held me.
Everything is coated in desire and fear, turning me weak and lightheaded as I try to sort out my emotions and what we just saw.
With a gasp of his own, Akira gets to his feet. He pushes his hair back from his face and struggles to collect himself.
“No, no, no,” he cries, limping across the barrack toward us. “It’s getting worse!” He scrambles inelegantly the last few feet to the mirror and stares at his reflection. The crack in his face has reached the center of his forehead. He pinches it, as though trying to close it.
“What—what happened?” I ask. “Akira-sama, what was that shadow?”
“Nothing. It was nothing,” Akira gasps, but the crack in his face indicates otherwise. Weakly, he goes to the basin and plucks a wet leaf from it. He plasters it over the crack. It clings to his skin, but it can’t cover the full length. “Does this look obvious?”
“Well, it is a leaf on your face.” I pause, attempting to force away thoughts about Ren and focus only on Akira. “Are you in trouble? Maybe we can help.”
“You could.” Akira’s voice rises and falls, the volume changing.
My ears pop in response, as though his voice is water, and it’s filled my eardrums. It makes me want to paw at my head.
“As I said, you could give me your relic as an offering. In return, I would give you a gift from the heavens.” Slowly, his gaze shifts between the two of us and then to Ren’s neck, where his fox hangs.
His low, multitoned voice drops to a whisper and slithers through the barrack like a snake.
“Don’t you know? A divine favor can change everything. ”