She spent the rest of that morning pondering over her conversation with the kami. She first concluded that she was not, in fact, dreaming and that her encounter, despite seeming implausible, must have been real. If she was any older, or more experienced in the ways of the world, she might have brushed it off as some kind of figment of a troubled mind. She had been through enough trauma, and this might have been her inner unconsciousness breaking free. And yet when she removed the necklace from around her head, she returned to blindness, a clear indication that what she had witnessed was real.

  However, she was not so ready to trust a tanuki, kami or not. He seemed unusually keen on binding with her, and she was suspicious of his true motives. She needed more time to think, and if possible, more information on the matter of binding.

  Her situation was helped by the arrival of Mori-sensei at noon. He brought his lunch and an old, well-worn tome.

  “This I found in the library. It is a recent arrival from the Old Capital. Here, take a look.”

  Yuki bent over the old book and opened it. The pages had been stained from age, and the characters were written in the old script, so it was a bit difficult to understand, but she had trained under the ancient Fuji-sensei and many wise Truist instructors before that, so it was possible to read. “The Prismatic Way,” she read aloud. “A Compendium of Ethereal Artifacts and Their Usages. By Miura Sen.”

  Mori nodded, flipping a few pages over. “The whole thing is a bit esoteric, and the author tends to ramble on. It seems to have been written towards the very end of the rule of the Emperors, making this several hundred years old. Do you know the meaning of this character?” he asked.

  “That’s the character for magatama.”

  Mori smiled. “You are quite clever. I was much older than you when I learned that one.”

  She turned to the corresponding pages and began to read.

  Magatama have gained substantial popularity in our modern age because of their ubiquitous representation in the Imperial House. Nowadays, they are nothing more than mere ornaments of fashion. However, these small, teardrop-shaped stones were once associated with the kami and the faint but important connection between them and humanity. Magatama have been thought to date from the early Primordial Age, causing them to be among the most ancient objects in this compendium. Although many of these early specimens are long lost to us in physical form, they are represented in the annals. The most famous of which, the Imperial Magatama, was rumored to have been passed down by the founder of the Imperial line, Masada Teru himself. Yet if one sifts carefully through the texts, the magatama was said to have been a gift to Teru by the Shinjin, while the mirror and the sword were creations of Teru with the aid of the kami. Together, the three of these heirlooms comprise the Three Sacred Treasures of the Emperors. However, because the magatama was given as a gift and not created by Teru’s own hands, there is reason to believe that the magatama predates even him.

  Other than being flares of fashion, the magatama do have real practical uses. The Truists, being the closest to the throne and the protectors of the Emperor’s mythos, award magatamas to the special offices of Kaijin and Sage, both of which utilize the power of the kami in their fields of expertise. For the Kaijin, they use the magatama to enhance their battle prowess and protect against violent yomi. For the Sage, they use the magatama to enhance their communication with the kami around them.

  Yet despite these obvious uses, the Truists have, unfortunately, steeped the procedure of using a magatama in mystery, so that it is inaccessible to the commoner. The Imperial House is also quite hesitant to acknowledge that there are any powers within these small stones, despite years of use of them. Therefore, because I am a historian outside the bounds of these two organizations, there is little else I can say about the matter.

  There is, however, one other known usage, which has never been observed but reported by various, albeit unreliable sources. They claim that the original purpose of the magatama was to create a permanent connection between a man and a kami, establishing a kind of binding phenomenon of spirits.

  The simple incantation, with its modern translation, is recorded below:

  神は神。

  人間は人間。

  神人は全。

  Kami wa kami.

  Ningen wa ningen.

  Shinjin wa zen.

  Yuki stopped reading at the end of this passage.

  “Oh dear,” Mori said, sounding exasperated, “I am sorry that this wasn’t more helpful. It says nothing at all about curative properties. I am afraid that it doesn’t help us figure out how you got your vision back.”

  Yuki, however, was not so disappointed. “It does mention binding,” she thought to herself. “The kami was telling the truth after all.”

  The doctor soon left her, and she asked if she could hold onto the book until the following day. “It’s not a very popular text,” the old physician admitted. “I am sure it won’t be missed.”

  She studied it further, mulling over the possibilities. She was hesitant to bind her soul to another, but the one thing that stood out to her the most was that the kami did mention the word ‘power’. She had been trampled on by those who had power simply because she had none herself. The possibility of turning the tables on those who had wronged her seemed like a sweet recompense for her suffering.

  At the same time, she knew that an unnatural obsession with power was a dangerous thing. If there was one common thread in all the stories she had ever read, this was the preeminent one. She knew this deal could easily spell her doom. She had to be sure that whatever she chose, she did it for the right reasons.

  “Power is a double-edged sword,” she reminded herself. “It is eager to cut, even the one who wields it.”

  She rested that afternoon and woke just before dinner was supposed to arrive. It had already grown darker, for the clouds had come and turned the remaining sunlight into an amber-colored haze. She felt groggy and generally sick to her stomach, for the stress of her decision was weighing heavily on her.

  “Hurry up,” she said to no one in particular. She paced around the room, occasionally putting her ear to the door, searching for anything unusual, like the scurrying of a mouse. There was nothing, so she continued to pace.

  After some time, there came a light knocking on the door.

  “Dinner must be here,” she thought. “Come in,” she called aloud. She was not in the mood to eat, but she was hoping that the food would attract the kami so they could finally speak.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  The key was hastily inserted and then the door slowly slid open with a grating sound. An unexpected yet familiar face appeared on the darkened threshold.

  “Misasa?” Yuki gasped, instinctively stepping back with fright.

  There, before her, stood her former mentor, her face darkened by the shadows of the room, so all that could be seen was her slender frame and deep, white eyes.

  “Yuki-chan,” she whispered, stepping into the light of the room. “At last, I have finally found you! You were so difficult to find…” Her voice was different from the Misasa she knew before. It was the cool, cruel voice of the monster she had seen butcher her older sister Rin.

  “How did you...” Yuki stammered, “How did you find me?”

  “It was not so easy,” Misasa said quietly, taking another step forward into the room. Her hands were concealing something behind her back, and there was a gleam in her eye. “Many men come to Ishihara, among them are the castle guards. Eventually, they talk. They always do. But it took some time and painstaking effort on my part. They finally pointed me to that wretched doctor. Only he knew for sure where you were hiding.”

  “Mori-sensei!” Yuki cried, her voice quivering. “What did you do to Mori-sensei?”

  “He had a terrible accident,” she answered coldly. “Mixed up the wrong medicines, I’m afraid.”

  Yuki nearly dropped to her knees. She felt as if she had been punched in the stomach.

  “You lie!” she screamed, intentionally raising her voice, hoping someone would hear her.

  “You are all alone, little Yuki-chan,” Misasa said gleefully, stepping even closer. “There are no guards here to help you. Your foolish Shōgun has seen to that.” As she said this, he also lowered her hand to reveal a glittering dagger. It was the same one that had killed Rin.

  “Why are you doing this?” Yuki pleaded, backing up towards the far wall.

  “Because the Lady has come to regret letting you live,” her old mentor said matter-of-factly. “Now that you are so close to the Shōgun, you have become a loose end. I am an onē-san now, but the Lady thinks that I am good enough to be a master. Could you imagine that? I would be the youngest master in Ishihara.”

  “At what cost, Misasa? You murdered Rin! Will you murder me too?” At this, Yuki’s feet struck the warm fabric of her futon.

  Misasa raised her head and looked Yukiana directly in the eyes. She had a frightful, deranged look about her. “I did not murder Rin! She doomed herself with her treachery! She betrayed the Lady and received her just punishment. Now you shall do the same!” Misasa bent her knees to strike, but as she sprang forward Yuki managed to dodge by pulling up her futon blanket like a decoy, before leaping to the side.

  “Have you made up your mind, human? Now would be a most opportune time to decide,” another voice sounded from across the room, just as Yuki hit the floor. It was Tanuki. She could see his bushy frame standing behind her attacker.

  “Tanuki-san!” Yuki cried.

  “What?” Misasa hissed, struggling to get free of the blanket. She could not see the kami beside her.

  “I heard your cry! I came as soon as I could. Who is this woman?”

  “This is one of the Lady’s servants,” Yuki replied frantically.

  “I wish I could help you, but there is nothing I can do to stop her. Not until we bind.”

  Misasa was free, and she lunged at Yuki again, this time narrowly missing her with a slash of her dagger.

  “All right!” Yuki finally managed, evading another blow. “I’ll do it!”

  “Do you know the words?” he asked, crawling up her back until he was able to perch on her arm. “Watch the knife!”

  Yuki dodged again, but this time the knife caught her sleeve and tore through effortlessly. She stumbled back against the wall of the room, and the knife went into the plaster mere inches from her cheek. Misasa screamed with fury, her eyes kindled with the fire of madness.

  “Kami wa kami,” Yuki intoned, rolling to the side opposite Misasa, but she tripped and fell to the floor.

  “Hurry!” the tanuki cried. Misasa had jumped on top of her, dagger in hand. All Yuki could do was hold her arms away from her body. She seemed to be no match for her former mentor, whose strength was overwhelming. Grunting, Misasa pushed the blade down towards her throat.

  “Ningen wa ningen.”

  “Silence!” roared Misasa, exerting with all her might.

  “Faster!” the tanuki cried, practically jumping up and down off her shoulder. “I still cannot stop her. Not yet!”

  The dagger’s tip was getting closer. Inch by inch, it was drawing down towards her exposed neck.

  Yuki’s mind was racing. “What is the next line?” she thought to herself, panicking. “I can't remember!”

  “Shinjin wa zen!” the kami shouted feverishly.

  “Shinjin wa zen!” she cried, making one last effort to hold off the blade.

  She felt a strange sensation at that moment. It was as if a storm had just entered her bloodstream. It felt as if she was being lit on fire, but it was not painful, as if something were protecting her from the searing flame.

  “Here we go!” the kami cried, leaping from Yuki’s shoulders towards Misasa’s crazed face. He began scratching, biting, and clawing with all his might. Misasa lurched back but still held onto the dagger. This gave Yuki enough space to roll aside and push herself up. For being a small creature, the tanuki was a ferocious beast, as he was making quite a mess of Misasa’s once fair countenance.

  “Yuki!” he shouted while savaging his victim. “You must trust me and listen to what I say! When she finally pulls me off, you have to be ready!”

  “What is this devil?” Misasa cried.

  “Ready for what?”

  “You have to be ready to snap your fingers!”

  “Snap my fingers?” she repeated, being thoroughly confused.

  “You must!” the tanuki commanded, as Misasa had finally regained control and was grasping desperately to get her hands on him. “I’ve been saving up for a long time, so it should work.”

  “I don’t understand!” Yuki contested. She could not remember the last time she had snapped her fingers. “What if I can’t do it?” she asked breathlessly.

  “What do you mean?” he thundered, as he had finally been arrested by Misasa, who was staring down at him with fury. With great force, she tossed him over her shoulder and turned back towards Yuki. Her face was cut and bloodied and appeared more fearsome than ever.

  Yukiana, for her part, had her fingers placed in position, with the thumb pressed firmly into her middle finger.

  “You wretch!” Misasa seethed, charging forward.

  “Now!” the tanuki cried from somewhere off in the distance. Yuki stood in the gap as Misasa approached. She closed her eyes. Pushed her fingers together until the tension was too great and then snapped.

  Crack!

  The noise seemed to reverberate throughout the room, echoing off the white, plastered walls.

  Yuki had, out of instinct, shut her eyes to anticipate the inevitable blow, but it did not come. She kept her eyes closed for a few moments longer, thinking there had been some kind of mistake. But after a long enough pause that allowed her to contemplate her strange situation, she opened them once again.

  Misasa was staring at her as if she were looking at a ghost. Her eyes were opened so wide that one would think that they would eventually snap shut from the tension. Her mouth gaped and trembled. The ugly knife in her hand dropped and clattered on the floor.

  “It cannot be...” was all that Misasa could mouth, for her voice failed to pass the threshold of her lips.

  Yuki was thoroughly astounded by this sudden turn of events and looked over to the tanuki, who had recovered and was also staring at her, but now with a look of great satisfaction.

  “Rin?” Misasa whispered hoarsely.

  “Rin?” Yuki repeated, and then out of curiosity glanced down at her arms. These were not hers at all, for they were lighter and slenderer. She then put a hand over her eye, the eye that was taken by Ishihara. It was there, fully intact, though she still could not see out of it.

  “What is going on?” Yuki cried out loud but then noticed that her voice had taken on a different tone entirely. She sounded just like her older sister, Rin.

  The voice startled her, but not as much as it startled Misasa, who gasped and stepped back fearfully. This was to be her undoing, for the tanuki had placed himself just behind her legs, and she stumbled backward, landing hard so that the back of her head struck the small wooden table, and she stirred no longer.

  “That should do it!” the tanuki said proudly, hopping atop Misasa’s forehead which lay awkwardly on the ground. “That’ll keep her down for quite a while, I think.”

  “What has happened to me?” Yuki asked, inspecting her body, at least that which she could easily see. She had grown a few inches taller, and her center of balance was different. “Why do I look like…”

  The tanuki wagged his hips and grinned widely, flashing his razor-sharp teeth. “So now you know my power.”

  “To bring back the dead?” she asked, the pitch of her voice rising with hysteria.

  “No, no, no! Shapeshifting! I am a shapeshifter,” he explained with some degree of frustration. “I can change appearances at will, and now that we are one, I can make you do the same. I had a feeling that this particular form would frighten her into a state of shock. Apparently....”

  Crack! The noise sounded again, but this time Yuki sensed that she was the only one who could hear it, for it seemed to happen within herself. She looked down and saw the gratifying familiarity of her own limbs once again.

  “Ah,” the kami huffed with disappointment. “That did not last very long. I suppose I am a little out of sorts after the binding.”

  “You didn't do that on purpose?” Yuki asked, looking behind her to make sure everything had returned to normal.

  “No,” he admitted. “Now that I am half-mortal, it may take some time for me to regain my usual power, if that is even possible.”

  It took Yuki a few minutes to calm herself, though whenever she looked down at herself again her heart began to race. She had not intended on binding with the Tanuki tonight. She was hoping to probe for more information to make a wiser decision later. But when Misasa suddenly came upon her, she had to choose. “It is done then,” she said aloud. “We are bound.”

  Tanuki nodded solemnly. “We are. You are now a half-kami, and I am now half-mortal.”

  She felt a strange sensation wash over her, one of fresh elation mingled with dread. “What do I do now?” she wondered. But she did not have the time to contemplate. Voices could be heard from down the halls. Apparently, she had been heard after all. She looked down towards Tanuki, this creature that was now bound to the very fabric of her being. “You must hide!” she whispered.