energy required by these magical beings to surmount the boundaries between human and beast was bestowed upon them by Heaven. The thread of that spiritual energy infusing them was thin indeed.
The shirei lived off that energy. And so their efforts were in vain.
The opening through which that energy trickled was thin as well. More critical than the weakness of the psychic streams around Taiki was that he could not draw them in. He lacked his horn.
They were consuming themselves. The more of Taiki's energy Sanshi and Gouran consumed, the less was left to Taiki. Not enough energy was trickling through to them to keep their threads of life alive.
Even though his enemies were about.
Enemies who'd attacked him. The sudden transformation to kirin. And the shoku rising out of his scream. Taiki could not have known how to create such a shoku. The power was given to Kirin by Heaven, but Taiki didn't understand the powers of a kirin very well. The shoku he produced was purely instinctual. The severe wound he had taken to his horn must be related to it. That something so dreadful could have happened while Sanshi and Gouran were journeying to Gyousou, of all times, was undoubtedly part of the same devious plot.
Some person or persons unknown had made sure that Sanshi and Gouran would not be at Taiki's side. And then took advantage of their absence to attack him. If the kirin died, so would the king.
This is an insurrection, Sanshi muttered to herself. But by whom?
In the midst of the shoku, Sanshi was sure she had perceived a single, lingering shadow. But she hadn't been able to ascertain its identity.
That must have been the assailant. Or perhaps the leader of the rebellion. Just as the rumors said, Gyousou had been lured to Bun Province, and Taiki had been inveigled to dispatch Sanshi and Gouran to Gyousou. As a result, they hadn't been there to protect him. Taking advantage of that opening, Taiki had been attacked. But the enemy didn't kill Taiki. If only by a hair, the assassination had failed. Their enemies could be mounting another attack even now. And yet here they were trapped.
"What should we do?" came Gouran voice from the midst of the saffron darkness.
"We must sleep."
Sleep consumed the least psychic energy. Not the sleep of beasts, which would leave them defenseless. They would rest their physical bodies while setting their consciousnesses free to sense any attack.
"Remain vigilant. Our enemies may soon be upon us."
In a daze, guided by the curtains of black and white funerary bunting, he approached one of the houses. The crowds of people dressed in black reached from the front gate up to the genkan. The smell of chrysanthemums and incense hung over them. Then several of them noticed him. With a cry of surprise the adults rushed toward him. Through the crowds he could see a man and woman dressed in black.
Behind the sobbing woman there was a picture wreathed in chrysanthemums of an old woman. At last he understood the nature of the building in which the altar was located.
This was his home.
" Where have you been all this time? "
" A whole year has passed! "
Speaking as if in one voice, the sounds of the crowd washed over him like a wave. He feared he was in danger of being inundated. Strong claws dragged him back to shore. The hands of the kneeling, weeping woman in front of him dug into his arms.
"Mother?"
He blinked. For the life of him he couldn't understand why his mother was weeping so. What were all these people doing here? What were they all shouting about? What were these black and white curtains for? Why was his grandmother's photograph being displayed like that?
He quizzically tilted his head to the side. A woman from the neighborhood asked him, "What have you been doing up till now?"
"Up till now?" he echoed.
A flood a memories coursed through his thoughts, vanishing before his mind could seize upon them, leaving behind a deep, empty space. A curtain of snow danced at the bottom of that hole.
The shirei lived off that energy. And so their efforts were in vain.
The opening through which that energy trickled was thin as well. More critical than the weakness of the psychic streams around Taiki was that he could not draw them in. He lacked his horn.
They were consuming themselves. The more of Taiki's energy Sanshi and Gouran consumed, the less was left to Taiki. Not enough energy was trickling through to them to keep their threads of life alive.
Even though his enemies were about.
Enemies who'd attacked him. The sudden transformation to kirin. And the shoku rising out of his scream. Taiki could not have known how to create such a shoku. The power was given to Kirin by Heaven, but Taiki didn't understand the powers of a kirin very well. The shoku he produced was purely instinctual. The severe wound he had taken to his horn must be related to it. That something so dreadful could have happened while Sanshi and Gouran were journeying to Gyousou, of all times, was undoubtedly part of the same devious plot.
Some person or persons unknown had made sure that Sanshi and Gouran would not be at Taiki's side. And then took advantage of their absence to attack him. If the kirin died, so would the king.
This is an insurrection, Sanshi muttered to herself. But by whom?
In the midst of the shoku, Sanshi was sure she had perceived a single, lingering shadow. But she hadn't been able to ascertain its identity.
That must have been the assailant. Or perhaps the leader of the rebellion. Just as the rumors said, Gyousou had been lured to Bun Province, and Taiki had been inveigled to dispatch Sanshi and Gouran to Gyousou. As a result, they hadn't been there to protect him. Taking advantage of that opening, Taiki had been attacked. But the enemy didn't kill Taiki. If only by a hair, the assassination had failed. Their enemies could be mounting another attack even now. And yet here they were trapped.
"What should we do?" came Gouran voice from the midst of the saffron darkness.
"We must sleep."
Sleep consumed the least psychic energy. Not the sleep of beasts, which would leave them defenseless. They would rest their physical bodies while setting their consciousnesses free to sense any attack.
"Remain vigilant. Our enemies may soon be upon us."
In a daze, guided by the curtains of black and white funerary bunting, he approached one of the houses. The crowds of people dressed in black reached from the front gate up to the genkan. The smell of chrysanthemums and incense hung over them. Then several of them noticed him. With a cry of surprise the adults rushed toward him. Through the crowds he could see a man and woman dressed in black.
Behind the sobbing woman there was a picture wreathed in chrysanthemums of an old woman. At last he understood the nature of the building in which the altar was located.
This was his home.
" Where have you been all this time? "
" A whole year has passed! "
Speaking as if in one voice, the sounds of the crowd washed over him like a wave. He feared he was in danger of being inundated. Strong claws dragged him back to shore. The hands of the kneeling, weeping woman in front of him dug into his arms.
"Mother?"
He blinked. For the life of him he couldn't understand why his mother was weeping so. What were all these people doing here? What were they all shouting about? What were these black and white curtains for? Why was his grandmother's photograph being displayed like that?
He quizzically tilted his head to the side. A woman from the neighborhood asked him, "What have you been doing up till now?"
"Up till now?" he echoed.
A flood a memories coursed through his thoughts, vanishing before his mind could seize upon them, leaving behind a deep, empty space. A curtain of snow danced at the bottom of that hole.
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