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Sara touches down lightly at the entrance to the Grand Narukami Shrine. She gazes up at the torii that marks its boundary — while it would be easy for her to simply bypass it with her flight and and enter the shrine more directly, the idea of doing that has always made her vaguely uncomfortable. Doing anything but following procedure to the letter when visiting the shrine just feels… wrong.
She washes herself under the approving, amused eyes of one of the shrine maidens, then approaches the main shrine. If she’s lucky, Miko will be holding court at the Sacred Sakura as she so often does, and won’t have too long a line of supplicants for Sara to wait behind.
Sara proves very lucky indeed — Miko is present, and there are only two people ahead of her in line.
She waits patiently as an elderly man rambles on about his recent poor health, and finds herself surprised when Miko actually gives him a prescription for ‘sucrose and aqua’ to take to one of the shrine maidens — it had sounded to Sara like nothing but standard symptoms of old age.
After the old man is a young woman who apparently wants to be a writer and sought to petition Miko to read her manuscript — Sara winces at the sheer politeness with which Miko tells the woman to submit it through the proper channels at the Yae Publishing House. As anyone who spends much time around the kitsune learns, the more polite Yae Miko is, the less she wants to deal with you — this poor young woman probably doesn’t realize that she’s all but destroyed her chances of being published unless her manuscript turns out to be exceptional.
It is at last Sara’s turn, and a glance behind her reveals that no others have arrived while she waited. It’s not surprising, really, given the sun is beginning to sink below the horizon, but it’s still something of a relief — this isn’t really a conversation Sara had wanted to have in front of an audience.
“Ah, Madam Kujou,” Miko says, her usual business smile still on her lips. “What can the Grand Narukami Shrine do for you today?”
Sara opens her mouth, but… facing the ancient fox’s sharp eyes, she feels everything she had wanted to say falling away, far out of her reach.
She wants to learn more about her youkai heritage, and the kitsune in front of her is almost certainly the best resource for that remaining within Inazuma.
(Yoichi, Sara thinks, most definitely does not count — the Great Tengu may be older than Miko, but she’s about as reliable as a sword made of paper in the middle of a storm.)
But.
While Miko had said she wants to make up for her past cruelties… the fact remains that it’s because of Miko that Sara was ultimately denied a youkai upbringing. While Sara still holds the desire to see Miko’s claim of regret proven, to give her a chance to be better… here and now, vividly aware of the consequences of that cruelty in a way she hadn’t been before, Sara finds herself hesitating. Wondering if she can really go through with this.
And so, facing that inquisitive gaze, all Sara can do is ask:
“Why did you do it?”
The flicker in the depth of the Guuji’s eyes indicates she’s most certainly understood.
“My explanation last time was quite insufficient, wasn’t it,” Miko muses distantly. “Yes, why indeed… Why did I, when meeting an orphaned youkai child, choose to damn her to a life of misery rather than ensure she was cared for by our people…”
There’s a long silence, and just as Sara is beginning to feel like she needs to say something else—
“I don’t know,” Miko says.
Sara watches as the fox spins on her heel and begins to pace.
“I’ve never been fond of children,” Miko says. “Not even when I was one. It’s only recently that I’ve… reevaluated my position, and of course even that was only because Ei and I chose to have one… a very selfish reason to reconsider my feelings, don’t you think? But then, selfishness has always been my defining trait. Time has done nothing to change that.”
Miko pauses, gazing up at the Sacred Sakura.
“Come,” she says, then walks down the steps, brushing past Sara as if she isn’t even there.
Sara follows as Miko leads her to the edge of the cliff, where the setting sun bathes the sky in beautiful colors.
“Sometimes, cruelty is senseless,” Miko murmurs, her eyes fixed out over the horizon. “Mine, all the more so. You cannot even begin to imagine how many grudges I carry in my heart, little tengu. How much blood stains my hands. You are not unique in suffering at my hands, save for the manner of it. And that… Well.”
The elder youkai sighs heavily.
“Every answer I come up with feels like a mere excuse,” Miko admits quietly. “I would be ashamed to speak any of them aloud. In the end, all that matters is that I tore your childhood from you out of petty dislike, and I can never give it back to you. I’m sorry.”
Sara struggles for words. What eventually bursts from her throat borders on a scream, the pain of her life finally released:
“What gave you the right?” Sara demands. “You sentenced a child to hell twice. To the mountains, to the Kujou… did you expect me to survive either of those? If I hadn’t gotten my Vision, I would have died in the mountains. I’m not sure I did survive the Kujou, and even if I did, I know nothing about what it means to be a youkai!”
“…The child you were did not survive,” Miko says quietly, still refusing to turn and face Sara once more. “I do not believe it would be inaccurate to call me her murderer.”
Sara can only stare at Miko’s back, throat too choked to form words.
“I cannot give you back your childhood,” Miko says. “I cannot return to life the girl I smothered in the crib. But, if you will allow it… I can return your heritage to you.”
Sara closes her eyes and takes a steadying breath.
That’s what she came here for. For the chance to let Miko show that her remorse is genuine, for the chance to learn about what it means to be a youkai. To be a tengu.
…Sara doesn’t want to hold grudges forever. She doesn’t want to be trapped in the darkness of her past.
“Please,” Sara whispers, bowing her head. “I would like that very much.”
She might never be able to trust Miko from the bottom of her heart, but that doesn’t mean she wants to hate her forever. Sara has seen what that kind of hatred results in — the animosity between the people of Watatsumi and Narukami, her father’s corruption, the civil war that nearly tore Inazuma apart…
Sara wants to be better than those who have come before her. Better than her father, better than Miko. What she wants isn’t revenge, it’s to build a future better and kinder than what came before it.
So if the Guuji truly regrets her actions…
Sara will give her the chance to prove it.
Miko finally turns to face her, the look on the fox’s face unreadable.
“So be it, then,” Miko says. “Come.”
For the second time, Sara finds herself silently trailing behind the Guuji.
“What do you know of the Yougou Tengu?” Miko asks.
“…Not much,” Sara admits. “Only that they were guardians of the mountain, and that they trained the Yougou Three.”
Miko clicks her tongue.
“They were your ancestors,” Miko says, not a hint of doubt in her words. “I would recognize your feather patterns anywhere. I don’t know who your parents were, I don’t know your exact lineage… but you are of Yougou.”
Sara’s breathing stutters.
“You’re certain?” she asks.
“The odds of a tengu having your patterning and not being of Yougou Tengu descent are so slim as to not even be worth mentioning,” Miko says, waving her hand. “And, as such…”
The fox stops abruptly as she reaches the edge of another cliff. Across from them is the other peak of Mount Yougou, divided from the shrine by the terrifying power of the legendary strike that had killed the Watatsumi Omikami.
Sara’s eyes widen and she rushes forward in an attempt to catch Miko as the kitsune throws herself off the edge, but her hand grasps nothing but air — the fox is gone, replaced by a large, strikingly pink hawk that wastes no time in flying toward the other far-off peak.
Sara takes a deep breath to calm her racing heart, then follows — she had never considered that the legendary shapeshifting abilities of a kitsune could be used like that, though now that she considers the matter more seriously she’s not sure why it came as such a surprise.
When she lands on the other peak, she finds Miko already back in her human shape waiting for her. The fox is laughing, seemingly unbothered by her glare.
“You should have seen your face,” Miko wheezes.
Sara closes her eyes and silently counts to five.
“The kitsune are gone,” Miko says, and Sara’s eyes snap back open. “I am the last. Some other, lesser fox spirits remain… but they aren’t of my kin.”
“…I’m sorry,” Sara murmurs.
It’s horribly inadequate, she knows, especially after the story Yoichi told her. To remain behind as the rest of your species entombs itself… how must Miko have felt?
“I’m not,” Miko scoffs, though Sara thinks it may lack her usual bite. “Bunch of killjoys that didn’t live up to their reputation at all…”
There’s a moment of silence, then Miko gestures around her.
“This is where the Yougou Tengu used to live,” she says. “With their wings, they could reach the shrine in an instant if they were needed, and with their eyes they would never fail to notice when it was such a time… and this peak, said to be unclimbable, was also a challenge. Any human who wished to learn their martial arts had to scale it, despite the impossibility.”
“So the Yougou Three managed that?” Sara asks.
“They did, as other heroes before them,” Miko agrees. “And at the peak, the one they found awaiting them…”
The fox is gone, and in her place is an even taller, more imposing woman. She has fierce golden eyes; long, black hair; and the single pair of large wings at her back marks her as a Great Tengu.
“You stand before the Great Tengu Reizenbou,” an unfamiliar, regal voice declares. “Speak your name, child, you who dares disturb me.”
“Kujou Sara,” Sara replies, the response an automatic one when faced with such a commanding tone.
The Great Tengu’s eyes study her, and for all that Sara knows this must be another of Miko’s transformations she still finds herself squirming. There’s a weight to this that she hadn’t been prepared for. She doesn’t know what the point of this game is, but she has to trust that there is one and go along with it — otherwise, what point is there to having chosen to ask Miko for help?
“Kujou…” ‘Reizenbou’ murmurs thoughtfully. “The retainers of the Gongen? They’ve allowed themselves to carry our blood?”
“…I’m adopted,” Sara admits. “The Kujou clan is still human.”
“Even that is more than I would have expected,” ‘Reizenbou’ says. “Times… have changed. Tell me, how are the youkai?”
Sara swallows and looks away, unsure how to answer — but this itself seems to be enough.
“As I thought,” ‘Reizenbou’ sighs, gazing up at the sky. “Our lot has always been a difficult one. My last question, then… is how are you?”
Sara doesn’t even have time to answer before she’s forced to bring her arms up to block a heavy blow from ‘Reizenbou’s’ fist.
“Sloppy,” ‘Reizenbou’ chides. “You should have been ready for that.”
Sara finds herself reevaluating the situation as she’s put on the defensive, barely blocking her opponent’s strikes — and some slip through, though thankfully only glancingly.
She had believed ‘Reizenbou’ to be a transformation of Miko’s, but she can’t imagine the fox being this skilled of a martial artist. Her magical abilities are legendary, but nobody has ever seen her engage in an actual physical fight, and her laziness is almost as legendary as her sorcery.
It’s more likely, then, that she’s been put into an illusory dream — perhaps one based on Miko’s memory of the real Reizenbou. The question then becomes why? What’s gained by this that couldn’t have been achieved by Miko just telling her whatever lesson she’s supposed to learn?
“Stop thinking,” ‘Reizenbou’ orders, and Sara is startled to realize that the illusionary Great Tengu’s fist is barely centimeters from her nose. “Thinking too hard in a fight just gets you killed.”
Sara takes a shaky step back, and Reizenbou bows her head.
“Show me your archery,” the illusionary Great Tengu commands. She draws a pattern in the air with her fingers and casts her hand forward, and Sara watches as a bird seems to weave itself into existence.
She draws her bow and tracks the bird’s flight. It’s swift, far swifter than any target she’s ever tried to hit before. Her first arrow misses, as does her second, and her third…
Sara centers herself, forcing down the frustration threatening to overwhelm her. She thinks of Naganohara Yoimiya, of how her arrows seem to supernaturally curve to chase her targets down, and tries to remember the way the firework-maker had described the ability.
‘I know what it looks like, but my arrows aren’t actually magic. I just put myself in my target’s shoes — I don’t try to follow their movement and shoot where I think they’ll be, I shoot where they think they’ll be. Easy, right?’
It hadn’t made any sense to Sara at the time, but watching the bird dart so elegantly around…
Sara finds herself connecting to it in a way she’d never imagined, and the next arrow she looses lodges itself in the conjuration’s side. She lets out a shaky breath, lowering her bow.
“Curious,” ‘Reizenbou’ murmurs. “You were using nothing but the basics of the archery that we once passed down to humans at the start, but that last shot was true tengu archery. Why did you wait to use it?”
“…I didn’t know I could do that,” Sara admits. “I learned it from a friend, but I hadn’t actually understood what she meant.”
“Is this friend a tengu?” ‘Reizenbou’ asks.
“No, a human,” Sara says. “…I think, anyway. I wouldn’t be surprised if she learned it from a tengu, though.”
“A human using tengu archery, in this age…?” ‘Reizenbou’ muses. “…Is she a Naganohara, by chance? A girl named Yoimiya?”
“That’s her,” Sara confirms.
“…She’s done well for herself, then,” ‘Reizenbou’ says, smiling softly as she gazes out in the direction of Inazuma City. “She was a talented child.”
“You know her?” Sara asks.
She isn’t sure why Miko’s illusion of an ancient Great Tengu would know anything about Yoimiya, and it leaves her with an odd sense of dissonance.
“She climbed the mountain, once,” ‘Reizenbou’ says simply. “And the Naganohara have a connection to the past of Inazuma like none other. Teaching her was a pleasure.”
“…You’re not an illusion, are you?” Sara asks quietly.
The Great Tengu Reizenbou smiles.
“We don’t have long,” she says. “Little Yae’s body can’t sustain me for more than a few hours without damage that would take even her quite some time to recover from, and we don’t have a Naganohara here to resonate with the ley lines. Let’s make the most of it, shall we?”
Sara finds herself drawn into another spar, but this time Reizenbou takes the time to actually critique her technique. She notices visible improvement in herself by the time Reizenbou steps back, and finds herself understanding why the Yougou Tengu had been so legendary as teachers of heroes.
“You’re doing well,” Reizenbou praises. “A worthy heir of the Yougou Tengu, for all that you lack our training… One day, though, you’ll be as strong as any of us.”
Sara can’t help the sob that escapes her at the words, and she finds herself wrapped tightly in Reizenbou’s arms only a moment later.
“I wish we had more time,” Reizenbou murmurs. “There’s so much I would have liked to teach you, so many stories I’d like to tell… but my time is long past. Go to your friend Yoimiya, ask her to share the rest of what I taught her with you — if she remembers half of the things I showed her, she’s likely the closest thing to a true master of tengu archery left in this world.”
“…What about the Great Tengu Yoichi?” Sara chokes.
“…That idiot is still alive?” Reizenbou laughs. “Well… maybe she counts, when she’s sober at least. When she’s shitfaced, she couldn’t hit an elephant point-blank.”
Sara isn’t sure what an ‘elephant’ is, but given Reizenbou’s amusement she supposes it must be something very large.
“What about your stories?” Sara asks.
“Ask little Yae,” Reizenbou chuckles. “Some of them she’s heard me tell. Others… well, I’ve felt her rifling around in my head this whole time. Unless I’m very badly mistaken, she’s stealing all of the secrets I refused to tell her in the past so she can share them with you.”
“…If they’re secrets you didn’t want her to know, aren’t you mad about that?” Sara asks.
“If she were taking them for herself, I would be,” Reizenbou agrees easily. “There are a lot of things in my head that only tengu were meant to know. But since she’s taking them for you… well, I suppose I can forgive the brat just this once. She’s already going to be facing enough punishment for it, anyway.”
Reizenbou sighs and smiles down at Sara, a wistful look in her eyes.
“Never forget your roots, Sara of Yougou,” Reizenbou murmurs. “Never forget who you are, or where you came from… wear your heritage with pride, for you are one of us. Never let anyone tell you that the circumstances of your birth make you anything less than a true Yougou Tengu. I, the Great Tengu Reizenbou, declare on my name that you are as my own child.”
Sara of Yougou.
A weight seems to settle on Sara’s shoulders, and tears roll down her cheeks as Reizenbou presses a soft kiss to her forehead.
“It’s time for me to go,” Reizenbou whispers. “But know that you are loved by those who came before, Sara of Yougou — we are all proud of you.”
Sara watches, weeping, as the Great Tengu holding her seems to dissolve, replaced by Miko. The Guuji collapses against Sara, only the hug her arms had continued to hold keeping her upright.
“M-Miko? Are you all right?” Sara asks, doing her best to blink away her tears as she reaches out to support the fox.
“Can you get me to that bush?” Miko asks weakly, gesturing.
Sara isn’t sure why Miko wants that, of all things, but she adjusts their position so that she’s half-carrying the elder youkai on one shoulder and helps her to the indicated foliage.
Miko promptly pulls herself away from Sara, doubles over, and vomits into the bush. Sara’s eyes note that the vomit is dangerously, unusually red, as if it contains a great deal of blood.
“Are you all right?” Sara asks, half-ready to scoop the kitsune up and rush her back to the Grand Narukami Shrine so the shrine maidens can tend to her.
“You try letting a spirit that powerful puppet you around in battle for a few hours and see how you feel,” Miko scoffs. “And digging through thousands of years of memories leaves you with a headache that feels like a mountain landed on your head… I don’t recommend it.”
Sara swallows. This must be the ‘punishment’ Reizenbou had mentioned — Miko chose to do something that she knew would hurt a great deal for the sake of introducing Sara to someone she never could have met otherwise. She remembers what Reizenbou had said, about how this could have done significant damage to Miko’s body if it had lasted too long…
If she had harbored any doubts about Miko’s penitence, they’re long gone now.
“Thank you,” Sara whispers, bowing deeply. “I… Miko, Lady Yae… I don’t know how I can…”
“Oh, shut up,” Miko dismisses, straightening up and wiping the blood around her mouth away with the back of her hand. If she weren’t so unhealthily pale, Sara might be fooled into thinking she was fine — she’s not even swaying on her feet. “I knew what I was getting into. I do hope you’ll excuse me if I get some sleep before I try to regale you with any of that stupid old crow’s stories, though.”
“Of course,” Sara agrees immediately. “Do you need me to help you back to the shrine?”
“No, no, I’ve got an omamori with Ei,” Miko says, waving her hand. “I’ll just teleport to that. Come back and see me in a few days and we’ll see about teaching you about your ancestors, shall we?”
“I’ll be looking forward to it,” Sara says.
Miko smiles and vanishes in a swirl of sakura petals, leaving Sara alone on the peak that was once home to her people.
Sara of Yougou looks up at the sky, as Reizenbou had done, and smiles even as tears begin to run down her cheeks once more.
“Thank you, Reizenbou,” she whispers. “Thank you, Miko. I’ll become a tengu you can both be proud of… I swear it.”