#togakimi

Attending a party was the last thing Tōga had wanted, but Inukimi had convinced him to go—not that she was particularly keen on the idea either.

‘Given your return,’ she had said as she watched him clean Sō’unga. She was ever the pragmatist. ‘We should make an appearance at Lord Kōmaki’s Urabon celebration. If only to let others see that all is well.’

‘Is this really necessary?’

‘I'd rather avoid any talk of dissent among our lessers. Your absence was noticed. We wouldn't want some other overly opportunistic upstart to get ideas.’

Tōga had sighed. Inukimi’s ice queen façade was ever the same. He’d smiled wryly. ‘I suppose you're right.’

‘Besides,’ she had added. ‘I don’t feel like hosting a party, so we might as well go to his.’

And this was how they found themselves in their host’s courtyard, surrounded by others of their kind. Coloured lanterns hung from the eaves, their flickering, muted light cast the court into a hazy gloom. Nothing but the brightest colours were visible. The attendees were little more than shadows in coloured kimono under the lights. Strings of lanterns criss-crossed over Lord Kōmaki’s courtyard, all connected to a small tower of scaffolding wrapped in red and white cloth. It reminded Tōga of a large spiderweb dotted with coloured bugs waiting to be eaten.

Tōga tried to navigate between the various guests, Inukimi gliding elegantly at his side. Her ability to weave between people without so much as grazing their clothes was almost ghostly. Tōga, on the other hand, found himself stuck between clusters of revelers wherever he went. He envied Inukimi’s grace—his patience was wearing thin. If Daizen were still with them, he might have enjoyed himself. He was certain they would have laughed much of it off. As it stood, however, he’d rather be fighting another group of serpents than endure this.

A wolf yōkai sidled up to Tōga with a courtly smile—instantly recognisable by its stiffness. ‘It is good to see you again, Lord Tōga!’ he said with a formal bow.

Tōga inclined his head in return. ‘And you, er—’

‘The pleasure is ours, Lord Noroshi,’ Inukimi provided with the faintest hint of a polite smile. Tōga was grateful for her intervention. The name meant nothing to him.

‘You had us all fearing for the future of the Western Lands,’ Lord Noroshi said with a civil but mirthless chuckle. ‘I was surprised your son stayed so quiet in your absence. I was certain he would try and fill his father’s seat.’

‘Sesshōmaru had no reason to take a seat that wasn’t vacant,’ Inukimi said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘He knew his father would return.’

‘Truly?’

‘Lord Noroshi,’ Tōga said coolly. ‘You are welcome to our court at any time to ascertain the state of the Western Lands yourself. Perhaps you could even spar with Sesshōmaru or myself?’

Lord Noroshi’s face drained of colour. ‘There is no need, my lord. I’m certain all is as it should be.’

‘Good. Please be sure to write to us if you have any further concerns,’ Inukimi said with an impeccably regal smile. She pivoted neatly on her heel, turning her back to the wolf demon before he could get another word in. Tōga followed suit, swallowing the smug smirk that threatened to curl his lip.

They moved further through the gathering, greeting others here and there and performing their roles perfectly. People fired many questions their way, particularly curious as to where Tōga had disappeared to. He’d only been gone five days—he dreaded to think how much more torturous this evening would be if he’d been gone any longer.  

Drums began to echo through the yard, beating a steady, almost cheerful rhythm. One of Inukimi's brows twitched slightly. 

'What is this?' she asked no one in particular. She had no qualms in showing her disdain for the festivities. To throw a human celebration, no matter how much of a mockery, was beneath a daiyōkai of her stature. But when political theatre called for it, she was present—reminding other yōkai why she was the Lady of the West.

Several shadows gathered around the striped tower and began to move around it in time to the drumbeat. Were they... dancing? The stocky figures—tanuki, most likely—clapped then moved their arms stiffly in time with their steps around the scaffolding.

'Humans dance like this during Urabon-e to prove to the spirit world that they are not yet ready to die,' Lord Kōmaki declared confidently. Somehow, Tōga doubted the veracity of his statement. For all their foolishness, humans were too conceited to dwell on their own deaths. Their brief existence meant they clung to life without a thought to what came next. They had no time for it. Yet they also mourned deeply at any loss and honoured their dead—while, with the passing of centuries, yōkai simply forgot.

The twang of multiple shamisen joined the percussions and the dance around the red-and-white marquee became more animated as others joined in.

Lord Kōmaki clapped Tōga hard on the shoulder. 'You should join in, Lord Tōga. Have some fun!'

Tōga forced a polite smile. 'Thank you, but I must attend to my wife.' 

He moved away from Lord Kōmaki as graciously as he could muster, making his way to Inukimi who stood a little further off. She was speaking to a very pale woman, wearing dark colours even in the height of summer. Lady Zero. Tōga's stomach dropped. She had a tendency to poke at subjects he wasn’t in the mood to discuss. He was surprised Inukimi was indulging her at all. He couldn’t recall a time the two women hadn’t been at odds with one another. He wasn’t sure he wanted to get between them if Inukimi sought to draw blood with her words.

The opposite direction suddenly seemed to be the more appealing choice. He shifted abruptly, allowing himself to be swallowed by the crowd, only to find himself by a table full of food he had never seen before. Several yōkai were eating something that looked like balls of red bean paste, though when they took a bite, they found rice inside. Several expressed their delight at the flavour. 

A loud, obnoxious shout suddenly came from behind Tōga. He didn't flinch, though his ear rang unpleasantly from the sound. He turned his glare to Lord Kōmaki who was standing behind him, arms raised like a yūrei in a painting. The oni daiyōkai was grinning broadly, like a child having pulled a successful prank. Tōga's eyebrow twitched. 

'Do you feel repelled?' he asked keenly of those having sampled the unusual sweets. Other than choking from the scare of Kōmaki's sudden shout, the guests seemed fine. Lord Kōmaki guffawed. 'Humans call these “ohagi.” They're a kind of mochi that they claim repulses spirits and yōkai.'

There was a brief titter of laughter at his explanation. Tōga did not join in. Instead, his eyes fell to odd little sculptures made from vegetables—aubergines and cucumbers set up on sticks like absurd four-legged animals. His gaze did not escape Lord Kōmaki who jumped on the occasion to explain further. 'Mortals believe that building these vegetable mounts helps spirits go to and from the underworld with more ease, can you believe it?' he laughed again, as if it was the funniest thing he'd heard in centuries. 

Tōga found it rather tasteless to make fun of the human funerary practices, no matter how yōkai felt about mortals. Besides—he thought, picking up one of the little cucumber sculptures—this custom had some charm to it, silly as it was. Let them believe what they will, it caused no harm. Of course, there were surer ways to know whether someone had made it safely through the underworld. His eyes shifted to find Inukimi in the crowd, to the meidō stone hanging from her neck. He pitied mortals and their need for superstition. 

'Yes, quite funny,' Tōga lied, trying to appease Lord Kōmaki so he could slip away for some quiet. 

Lord Kōmaki, seemingly satisfied, turned to other guests nearby. 'You know, I think next year we should head down and give the mortals a fright. We can pretend to be the Hyakki Yagyō!' The others cackled hard at the suggestion. 

Tōga exhaled exasperatedly. Hyakki Yagyō... Izay— no. That girl had brought up the subject, too. 

“Tell me, do yōkai actually parade in hyakki yagyō, or—?”

His jaw went taut at the memory of her voice. His fingers burned at the thought of her touch. No. He wasn’t remembering it. He told himself he was only thinking of the topic at hand. The Hyakki Yagyō. 

Was it truly so deeply lodged in mortal minds? He pondered the question longer than necessary, trying to pretend the image of her hadn't just jumped into his mind. He had forgotten about her, or so he had convinced himself, for three whole weeks. Not a thought had been spared to the girl from the cave. Why was his mind faltering now? He was still resolved to bury every memory of her.

Frustrated with his thoughts, Tōga did not notice the figure approaching him quietly.

'Lord Tōga...' a soft voice drifted his way. Lady Zero stood before him, smiling prettily. 

Tōga gave her a gracious nod. 'Lady Zero.'

His voice was flat. He was not in a particularly social mood. As per usual, Lady Zero remained oblivious.

'I'm very glad to see you, Lord Tōga,' she said warmly. 'When we received word you'd gone missing, I—I feared the worst. I'm relieved to see you well.' 

She placed a hand on his arm. He resisted the urge to pull away as the memory of another’s warm hands shot through his mind. 

'Mm.' Tōga made a noncommittal sound as he gently pried Lady Zero’s hand from him. She kept eyeing him eagerly, like a puppy expecting a treat. The fond brightness in her eyes struck him with a pang of guilt. He bit back a sigh and smiled at her. 

'Your concern is appreciated. How do you fare, Lady Zero? You seem well.'

'Oh yes, quite well, thank you.' She lowered her gaze, looking at him through her white lashes. For a flicker, Izayoi's long dark lashes crept into his mind's eye. He cleared his throat reflexively. No, he was not recalling that girl—he refused to. He shook her from his mind. 

After a steadying breath, he let his eyes settle on Lady Zero again, who was gazing at him hopefully.

'Erm...' 

Awkwardness fell upon them like a heavy blanket.

Lady Zero finally broke the silence that had settled. ‘Kirinmaru sends his regards.’ Her brother was always a safe topic Tōga was happy to engage with. 'He went to Mount Musubi to visit Rion's—' she stopped herself, eyes suddenly sorrowful. Tōga wasn’t surprised—she had loved her niece Rion, too. 

Zero blinked, then smiled. 'Well, let's just say he was in no mood to mock the dead in such a childish festival.' 

Tōga was impressed at how quickly she restored her composure. It wasn't quite at Inukimi's caliber, but...

'Besides, Kirinmaru said that such mortal frivolities are beneath the likes of us.'

He smiled wryly. 'For once, he and I agree. Your brother is wiser than you give him credit for.'

'Sometimes I wonder...' There was another long pause before Lady Zero let out a breath. 'In any case, I imagine Lady Inukimi was thrilled to see you return?' The smile on Lady Zero's face faltered. Try as she might, she couldn't stop it from turning into something more spiteful. 

'She must have been beside herself with worry...' Clearly, she knew Inukimi would never be "beside herself" about anything. If ever she was worried, she would never show it. 'What a faithful consort you have, my lord.'

Tōga eyed Lady Zero warily. He was in no mood to trade barbs. He maintained a stony expression, choosing his words carefully before speaking. 'She maintained my court with unparallelled grace.'

'Is that so?' Lady Zero seemed disappointed by his response. He held her disgruntled gaze, his thoughts straying to another. She seemed to notice, her expression changing from discontent to curiosity. 

'What is it that troubles you so, my lord?'

He nearly recoiled, unprepared for her observation. 

'I don't—' he hesitated. There was no point in lying, it was glaringly obvious his mind was elsewhere. 'It's... nothing that merits discussion.'

'Truly? Perhaps it is that you simply need the right companion to confide in...?'

'Your concern honours me. But I assure you—all is well.' He tried to keep his tone light and pleasant.   

It was clear she didn't believe him, yet she relented. 'I only meant—I care for our friendship, and I hope you don't shut your heart from those around you.' She was looking at him with the intensity he'd come to know from her, but it still made him want to end the conversation.

'Mm. I will endeavour to remember that. Good night, Lady Zero.'

He gave her a courteous bow before she could speak any further, moving away from the conversation as quickly as he could. He walked towards the dancers, eyes seeking Inukimi among the crowd. She was nowhere to be seen. Tōga exhaled, hoping his shame would leave with his breath. He had tried—had succeeded—in forgetting the girl from the cave, yet, outside his own court, everything seemed intent on reminding him of her. He needed a place to recover his thoughts—alone.

He remembered the volary he happened to have found during Setsubun so long ago. If he hadn't already grown bored and lost interest, there was a chance Lord Kōmaki still collected rare birds. Tōga made his way away from the festivities and the colourful lanterns, down the narrow path leading to the aviary. The restless rustling of countless feathers told him he was going the right way. 

Soon, he found himself at the large, gilded enclosure—a shrine to the birds, but a cage all the same. There were occasional lanterns here and there, causing the golden cage to glimmer in the darkness. He pulled at the door. It was locked. Of course it was. 

A small shrike came to rest on the edges of the cage; its tiny talons firmly wrapped around the metal lattice. The light reflecting off its feathers brought to mind how Izay—the girl’s soft brown eyes had glowed in the firelit cave. A light flutter took hold in his chest. Why? He gritted his teeth. Why were all these unwelcome memories coming back when he had shut them away so well before?

With a groan, he rested his forehead against the bars of the aviary. They did little to cool his fevered thoughts, warmed by the hot summer winds. He breathed deeply. 

He could force himself to forget the girl again. It was easy. He just had to convince himself—

He lifted his gaze. A mistake. 

As a bird flew off its perch, the dim lanternlight revealed the inscription he had all but forgotten:

"As I gaze at the faint light Of the sixteenth-night moon— My heart becomes shadowed With sorrow."

The sixteenth-night moon. Izayoi. The word was haunting him. Why in the eight hells had she given him her name? It simmered in his blood like a curse, just waiting to boil over. The door to his memories of her simply refused to close.

But that inane poem was wrong. His heart was not shadowed with sorrow—only confusion. Izayoi, that ‘shy moon,’ was the cause of a bewildering anguish he’d never thought himself capable of feeling. 

He raked his hand through his hair, gripping onto it tightly as if he could tear the word from his heated mind. 

'Is something wrong, Husband?' Inukimi's voice asked from behind. His shoulders flinched from the startle. Her voice betrayed no emotion whatsoever, neither cold, nor curiosity. But Tōga was grateful for the rescue from his thoughts.

'N—no. Nothing. This event is growing tedious, is all.'

'Indeed. We should leave before Lord Kōmaki's guests imbibe too much sake and become even more bothersome. Besides, our purpose here is complete.'

Of course—this was only ever about showing himself after his disappearance, quelling the rumours and whatnot. He supposed they had done that. 

The clouds tonight are soft and pearly, and Inukimi flies within them, the chilly mist distracting her from thoughts of him, and the girl. She knew Touga would inevitably take concubines—it was his right—but no one expected a human. Or maybe they just hate the changing times, how wars rage on and dynasties fall and lovely princesses fling themselves at great daiyoukai’s feet. And Inukimi knows that mortality has its limits, that in fifty years she will remain a great beauty and that girl’s face would cave like fruit rotting beneath the plum tree.

This truth brings little comfort.

Inukimi drops beneath the cloudline and the midnight ocean stretches beneath her gaze, glassy and clear as crystal, the scent of salt drifting up into her nose. Four hundred years back, after a battle so fierce she could smell the blood from her throne, Touga met her at the entrance to her sky-palace, his fine silks stained green from grass and grime. He’d raked his claws through her hair and pressed his mouth to hers like it was the last thing he’d ever taste. She’d giggled and commanded him to strip before granting entry, palace guards and servants turning in embarrassment as the sounds of armor dropping rang throughout the clouds.

He has a habit of loving things he shouldn’t, and trusting too much in the things he should. Inukimi doesn’t like the earth that much, too much bitter stench, but even she can admit that the shoreline is beautiful when washed in moonlight. And it’s here beneath the stars she picks up the scent of someone trailing her like a veil. She’d love nothing more than to ignore it. So she only flies, skimming the fragrant treeline, never looking back at the presence on her tails.

The princess’ estate is grand by human standards. Inukimi curses the feel of soil beneath her feet as her pursuer lands a yard away.

“It’s unlike you to be jealous.” The Inu no Taisho, bright beneath the moon, finally speaks. He steps in front of Inukimi, not angry, he’d never hurt her, but she’d have to swallow the sourness building in her throat if she wanted to continue.

“I’d only like to see.”

“Mere curiosity, then?”

Touga is amused. Inukimi is annoyed. She brushes past her husband. He follows in silence until they reach the estate’s interior. There beneath a sand-pear tree sits the prettiest pink teardrop of a human, black eyes screwed up in confusion at the two approaching silver daiyoukai, lover and lavender stranger, realization lighting her features only when Inukimi speaks.