Prologue
Koliska was the last place on Nakaba where Ayato expected Kazuma to be. It was the country to the far west of Bayan, and the people there were supposedly very war-like but called everyone else in Nakaba savages. It seemed a bizarre choice, since Koliskians were known to kill more yokai than any other race of humans, and it made Ayato anxious to get there and see why Kazuma had chosen a place like that.
He left immediately. Cutting a portal from where he hung in the air above Bayan to a space in the air above Koliska took seconds. It was like slicing a hot knife through butter compared to his struggle to free himself from the barrier around the Ryujin no Tani. Ayato stepped through and was simply there. If he wanted to, he could put one foot in Bayan and one in Koliska, even though thousands of miles of land and water separated the two countries. This was so much better than flying!
Ayato knew exactly where in Koliska Kazuma was, but he didn’t want to literally pop by through a portal. He wanted to meet more naturally by walking up to his sister. He took himself down to street level and walked the rest of the way.
Ayato found Kazuma well outside the city of Bayonheim. She was on a hillside in what seemed to be a sheep farm, surrounded by a sea of people.
Ayato stayed by the long, dirt road near the tree line that defined the boundaries of the field. He hesitated to get any closer to the crowd, painfully aware that he was not dressed appropriately. The men wore neatly pressed suits and hats. Their hair was clipped very short. The women dressed in fine skirts and blouses. Even the children had been outfitted in their best clothes. Ayato had a threadbare vailo and one straw-woven sandal. Never mind that his mostly magenta-colored hair reached down past his shoulders. He would stick out here. They would stare. No, worse. He had more yokai features than human features now. They would be afraid.
Ayato stayed back in the safety of the shadows beneath the trees. What was he thinking; he couldn’t approach his sister now. He needed to wait until nightfall and a time when Kazuma was alone. What was Kazuma doing here anyway?
The answer seemed to be delivering a sermon. Kazuma was preaching about the evils of the modern world. She spoke of the need for brotherly love but paired that with convictions that the people of Koliska were superior to all others, and that their superiority entitled them to have dominion over all of Nakaba. It was an embarrassment, she claimed, that the people of northern Koliska were being oppressed under Bayanese rule and that the people of southern Koliska were suffering under the lawlessness of Yurdi rule. It was time for the moral superiority of Koliskians to prevail and take back the lands raped by the Great War. Only by subduing the scoundrels in Bayan and Yurd, through the use of force, could they hope to spread the Koliskian message of peace. Rooting out the evils would require violence, but it was a necessary violence that would usher in an age of peace and prosperity for Koliska.
Ayato couldn’t imagine why his sister was leading such a sermon. Kazuma wasn’t Koliskian; she wasn’t human, for that matter. And these remarks were inflammatory. She seemed to be trying to justify Koliska rising up to conquer the world; justifying violence by saying it was the only way to bring about peace. It didn’t make logical sense. Violence only incurred more violence. The oppressed always rose up against their oppressors, eventually. If Ayato had learned anything in his time with the Tengu, it was that equality among people brought peace.
Ayato started brooding on the contradictions in Kazuma’s speech and didn’t notice when Kazuma descended down from the hill towards the tree line.
“Well, if it isn’t my brother, the long-lost Ayato, returned at last.”
Ayato snapped out of his thoughts and realized that Kazuma stood only ten feet away from him now. He hid his hands behind his back. All the people gathered for the sermon had turned with Kazuma. They all were staring right at him; all two-hundred or so followers. Ayato wanted to crawl into a tree and hide.
But Kazuma’s presence kept him where he was. His sister had changed. She wore a three-piece men's suit with shoes shined to onyx perfection. Her hair was shorter than was fashionable for women just about reaching her ears. There was no trace of color at all in the black curls, not like the streaks of magenta in Ayato’s hair. Though her face remained the same, her skin was several shades paler than it should have been. Not a trace of olive remained. It was too surreal, seeing Kazuma this way, surrounded by the hundreds of humans who had come out to hear her speak, that Ayato found his throat had gone dry, keeping his words trapped inside.
“My brother, the yokai!” Kazuma declared with a grand gesture towards Ayato.
Ayato shrunk back, free of his stupor and finding his voice, though small, “Kazuma?”
“Here is the proof of all that I have told you,” Kazuma closed the distance between them to grab Ayato’s arm and drag him forward into the light. The humans collectively gasped and stepped away. “See for yourselves how Ayato’s debauchery has warped and twisted him into this wretched creature.”
“My what?” Ayato hissed.
“Just go with it,” Kazuma needled Ayato in the back. She stepped away again, circling around Ayato as if she were sizing him up, “You can see now that all I have told you is true. I am a Kishin in human flesh, and here is my yokai twin.”
“What!?” Ayato couldn’t “go with” something like that.
“We are incarnations of Tatsumi and Ryota, here to usher in a new age of peace and enlightenment, and you, my chosen people, will rule supreme over the new world order.”
Ayato raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, “I’m not—”
The crowd booed and called loudly for Kazuma to defeat the evil twin just as Tatsumi had defeated Ryota. Ayato lowered his hands. It was worse than he realized. These people believed every word that came out of Kazuma’s mouth.
Kazuma called for the crowd to settle down, “Now, now, today is not the day that I will defeat my brother. Right now, Ayato is a cautionary tale, not a threat. He is here to show the world what happens when you succumb to sin and vice and live an immoral life. It cultivates darkness in your tama, and in these end times, that darkness can gather to the point that you start to lose your humanity.” She pushed Ayato forward, “Let this be a warning to you all. Live on the path of righteousness. Be a light in the world. And you can prevent this from happening to you.” Kazuma linked her arm with Ayato’s, “Now, it is time for us to take our customary meal together as a community. Let us set aside our differences, for now, and show this scoundrel the powers of peace and love.”
Kazuma warned Ayato not to say a word as she whisked him through the crowd and back to the summit of the hill. The crowd brought out their picnic baskets and blankets as the twins made their way back to the summit. They had each brought something to be shared with the others. A blanket was spread out for Ayato and Kazuma to sit on, and people came by, one at a time, to thank Kazuma for her sermon and share their food with her and Ayato. Kazuma waved them off once they had more than enough in front of them for a full meal. Two large men, William and Philip, stepped forward to turn the people away so the twins could eat in peace.
“What the Makai are you wearing?” Kazuma laughed the moment she was free to do so. She picked at Ayato’s well-worn navy blue vailo. “I mean, you stay away for nearly eight years and then you show up in this? And why are you wearing only one shoe?”
“I didn’t stay away. I was trapped.” Ayato didn’t want to say where. He didn’t trust that he could. “And what about you? I’m finally free to come back for you, and I find you doing whatever the Makai this is. What is going on here?”
“I’m a rogue ascetic,” Kazuma grinned as if it should have been obvious.
“A what?”
“Get with the times, Ayato.” Kazuma made a scissoring motion towards his long hair. “A rogue ascetic is a man who denounces the tedium of everyday life to live a life of poverty and service.” She nodded to the crowd of at least two-hundred, “And who enjoys a following of little lambs that latch onto his every word as if it were spun gold.”
“You’re a woman, and you've told them you’re a God.”
“I will be.” Kazuma dropped her voice and her smile. “I told you. We will be the most powerful creatures to ever walk Nakaba. We will be Gods compared to them. I’m just setting myself up to be worshiped like one, too.”
“By killing me to reenact the Tatsumi and Ryota myth?” Ayato shot back.
“You know I would never actually kill you.” Kazuma rolled her eyes that she had needed to state the obvious.
Ayato’s next breath came with a sense of relief. “Of course.” She could never kill her own brother. Kazuma may have some grandiose ideas, but they were still twins. There was still a bond there, a bond that may allow Ayato to reach Kazuma yet and get her to stop this charade.
“Because that would be suicide.” Kazuma plucked the spirit thread connecting them, tama to tama. And for the first time in all the times that she had done that, Ayato felt a tug at his chest and saw the gossamer glimmer of a thin thread slicing through the air between them.
“All this time you didn’t believe me,” Kazuma chuckled smugly, “but I told you we’re connected.”
“It was true?” Ayato rubbed his chest where the tug had left a dull throb behind.
“All along.” Kazuma helped herself to a small loaf of bread and bit off the end piece.
It wasn’t just a bedtime story. There really was a spirit thread connecting them tama to tama, and if that was true, then it must also be true that one twin’s premature death would mean the immediate death of the other. Like the stories said, one tama divided into two bodies.
At least Ayato knew he was safe from being murdered to further this crazy plot. But what hurt more than the pain in his chest was the realization that it wasn’t a sense of love for family that would stop Kazuma from killing Ayato. Kazuma didn’t want to die, which meant Ayato had to live. No matter what.
Ayato saw a vision of himself trapped in an iron box in an underground cave. He tried to shake it off. Now was not the time to be imagining worst-case scenarios. Think of the facts. What was the purpose of stirring up the imagery of Tatsumi and Ryota?
Living incarnations of a Kishin god in human form was a Bayanese belief, but the struggle of good versus evil was a Koliskian concept. In Bayan, there was no eternal cosmic struggle. There was the neo; the belief when all things were in balance, male and female, light and dark, hot and cold, then there was harmony. Imbalances in the neo led to such things as sickness, drought, and even death.
“Do you still hate me?”
Ayato climbed out of his thoughts to give his sister his full attention, “I should never have said that. I didn’t mean it, Kazuma, and I’m sorry. I was just angry. I didn’t like feeling sick.”
Kazuma’s face was an emotionless mask, “So, saying you hated me and then disappearing for seven and a half years without a trace was just a coincidence.”
“I didn’t disappear.” Ayato shifted closer to Kazuma. “I was swept into the river by a mudslide when I got up to use the toilet. I had nearly died by the time they pulled me from the river.”
Kazuma’s brow lifted slightly, but the rest of her expression remained unchanged, “They who?”
“The Tengu.” Ayato didn’t want to say any more than that. They had entrusted him with the village secret, and Ayato couldn’t betray that trust. “I was trapped with them in their village by a barrier until I could use my magicks to free myself.”
“Didn’t I tell you the akuma would make us stronger?” Kazuma picked out a fried fish from one of the plates. “I bet you’re glad now that I got us sick.”
“No,” Ayato answered truthfully, “I’m not. I don’t want to be powerful, Kazuma. What if it upsets the neo? What if there is such a thing as too much power?”
“You let me worry about that. All you have to do is drink a lot and be lewd.” Kazuma cocked her head at him. “You can’t stop me, Ayato. There are chapters of my followers in every major city in Koliska; northern, southern, and central. I heal the sick and feed the poor. I go to areas suffering from drought, and I make it rain. They flock to me in droves. They’ll continue my work, even if I’m gone. My Kindred has grown too large to be stopped.”
Nothing was too large to be stopped, given the right amount of force, but Ayato kept his mouth shut.
Kazuma pushed a plate of fruit and honey towards him, “Eat. The communal meal is an important part of the ritual.”
Ayato begrudgingly took a bite of an apple. He decided to go along with Kazuma for now, while he came up with a way to stop her. He couldn’t betray Kazuma if he didn’t have her trust or know the full scope of the operation. At least he had a virtual guarantee that he would not be killed for his efforts. Kazuma wanted to be worshiped as a living God, not a dead one.
In private, Kazuma let down the Koliskian shift she wore in public. Her hair held streaks of unnaturally bright green in it where Ayato’s was purple. She didn’t have yokai nails yet, but her antlers had started to develop. It was exactly how Masanobu-kin’s antlers had looked when they first sprouted from his head the night he was petrified in their garden. Ayato was certain now that the presence of the akuma plague in their bodies had changed not just their magicks, but their kaji appearance as well. Even the hollow cultivating on his back dripped with magma-like magicks. It should have been completely empty.
In the following days and weeks, Ayato tried to learn all that he could about Kazuma. There were six humans in particular whom Kazuma considered to be her inner circle; Brooke, Stanley, Kevin, Kathrine, William, and Philip. They had been handpicked from among her most devoted followers, and they alone were allowed to see Kazuma in her true form. They also seemed to know the full extent of Kazuma’s plan or at least more than Ayato was allowed to know. He kept his eye on them, but for now, they were only errand running lackeys, hanging on to Kazuma’s every word. If loyal enough, there was some sort of reward in it for them, but that was only addressed in coded terms. Ayato couldn’t piece together what the reward entailed.
The real danger was Kazuma herself. Her followers grew and grew in number as she continued her tour of Koliska. Ayato wasn’t able to interfere with her progress as he had hoped. Everything that he did was cast in the light of Ayato being an incarnation of Ryota, inherently evil, and it was swept up into the growing mythos surrounding Kazuma as part of that eternal struggle, Good versus Evil, that the Koliskians liked so much. He spent a month trying to discredit his sister, only to have every effort he made twisted into his appearing to be Ayato the Adversary.
So, Ayato gave up trying. He didn’t want to reinforce his sister’s lies any further. He needed a new method for stopping this.
But by the time he had found Kazuma, there were only three short months until their transition finished. As that time steadily approached, they began to resemble the akuma plague victims more and more. It wasn’t just their antlers. Their veins glowed beneath their skin. The antlers they grew were smaller than the spore-producing antlers of the victims but no less impressive, and they developed tails tipped with a tuft of fur. As he nurtured his shichiki blood magicks, Ayato began to realize the full extent of what they soon would be capable.
Ayato could lengthen the fingers of his right hand until they resembled long daggers, and he could use this hand to bypass the fleshy cage of a person’s body, reaching inside to their tama. He could do any number of things once he had that tama in his grasp; heal it, eat it, corrupt it, purify it, strengthen it. He hated to think what Kazuma planned to do with this power once they were full yokai.
