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When the commotion settled, Seimei’s paperdoll made for a sorry sight on the deck. It was waterlogged and sun-bleached, the red string hanging limply from its forehead, and the origami crane it had flew in on was covered all over with slime from the fight. Taki set the crew to dismembering what remained of the water spirit that had ambushed Auctopus, peeled the paperdoll off the deck of the Golden Tentacles, and headed back into his cabin under Shiro-uneri’s knowing eyes.
Fortunately, Seimei’s spellwork was robust, and the letter the paperdoll delivered was in much better condition. Taki’s eyes roamed greedily over it, mourning its brevity, memorising the strokes and whorls of the calligraphy. It seemed Heian-Kyo had been a lively place recently, full of fireworks and the festering family secrets of the onmyoji clans. And, incongrously, onsen openings. Attached to the letter was a 50% discount voucher for a Nekogawa Annex, along with an annotation warning him the owner was likely to make up for the discounted fee in less financial ways.
At the end of his message, Seimei wrote:
By the time you read this, I will be five days from ——, naming a port settlement Taki knew well. And one the Golden Tentacles were not presently far from. The enchanted map on the wall indicated it was less than three days away, though manoeuvring the Golden Tentacles between the fishing boats was an endeavour that would chew away another.
If Taki wanted to play the fool, there were arguments. It had been some time since the Golden Tentacles had docked, and the hold needed a good clearing out. They were running low on the particular seasoning Auctopus liked on its food. Last month the ship had sustained the kind of minor damage best fixed with access to lumber, preferably sooner than later. Some of the sails were a few moons away from when Taki needed to start scouting for their replacement. And so on, and so forth.
And if the ace custodian was as clever as his reputation…
Another slip of paper fell out from behind the letter, a small square bearing a poem. It was so small Taki had read its entirety with a single glance; then, ears burning, he went for the ship’s wheel.
The Golden Tentacles pulled into port exactly a day and a half before Seimei was expected, an untimely sea fog still trailing on its masts. Taki was solidly a creature of the sea, but the shore still made for a welcome sight, igniting a slow flutter of anticipation deep in his belly. He warded half of it off by approaching the markets with a shopping list in hand, and the landsickness took care of the other half.
“Ooh, Taki, I want this!” Tagitsuhime announced, pointing at a seller of candied ginger. “And this… and this… and this! That one too!”
“Didn’t I give you your own money?” asked Taki.
“I spent it!” was the enthuasiastic reply, before she waved a hairpin in front of his face. Taki had a sneaking suspicion he would wake up one day with it in his hair, seeing as Tagitsuhime did not wear hairpins.
He nibbled on the candied ginger as they walked, the landsickness slowly subsiding. One by one, items were ticked off his list. The sailcloth and lumber were too specialised to accomplish in a day, but by sundown he was rowing several boxes back to the Golden Tentacles, much to the amusement of Shiro-uneri.
“Stress shopping?” the doctor asked slyly.
“I’m not stressed,” said Taki defensively.
Shiro-uneri gave him a look that plainly said, no, of course not. “Should I take your pulse to check?”
Taki hastily retreated into his cabin. “Goodnight!”
By the time he left again the next day, a serenity had settled upon the Golden Tentacles, emptied of sound but for the wash of waves in the harbour; the crew would be out enjoying the shores now that the Golden Tentacles was secured down. Taki made his way onto the deck, intending to bask in the plentiful sunlight with Hizz before starting the rest of his day, only to find—
(The clumsiest part of his brain wailed, But I haven’t dressed properly! The second clumsiest cried, But you weren’t supposed to have arrived yet!)
Auctopus, the traitor, lifted a tentacle and prodded Seimei’s shoulder, pointing in Taki’s direction.
—Seimei was in front of him.
“Taki,” he said warmly. “You look well.”
“Hnngh,” said Taki intelligently. Hizz slithered off his shoulder in silent disgust.
“You look well too, Hizz,” Seimei said to the iguana, stooping down to pick him up. Hizz scampered up his arm and settled smugly on his shoulder.
Taki collected himself.
“It’s good to see you, Seimei,” he said. “I hope the journey wasn’t too difficult.”
Seimei smiled wryly. “About what you would expect, travelling overland for two weeks,” he said. “But the final leg was much easier, with thanks to Tagitsuhime and Auctopus.”
The octopus didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.
“What brings you here?” asked Taki. As far as ports went, this one was ordinary to the extreme - no impressive bargains to find, no difficult deals to broker, no secrets to uncover. The local human governor didn’t even live nearby, and the nearest landside spirits he could trade with were high up in the mountains.
Which wasn’t an unfair assessment, as Seimei began telling him of concerns around mysterious sea lights and poor weather. “Some of the fishermen are concerned it could be a sea monster, and wrote to the capital,” he told Taki. “I thought it prudent to investigate, as sightings of Shinkirou have recently resurfaced too.”
Shinkirou was the kind of foe Taki very much enjoyed meeting, full of secrets and treasure both. It would be a pleasant surprise indeed to hunt it in this patch of waters.
“Later, Yao Bikuni performed a divination and found your ship in the vicinity, so I thought I would write you a letter.” Here something quick and mischievous flitted across Seimei’s mouth, stirring Taki’s blood. “I must confess to some ulterior motive in wanting to sail out in the Golden Tentacles rather than a fishing boat, but I am very glad to see you. I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“You’re always welcome to sail aboard the Golden Tentacles,” said Taki, feeling rather as if he’d spent an entire day basking in the sun already. “You passed all the requirements to join my crew, and I’d never leave one of them behind.”
Seimei’s eyes glimmered with merriment. “Thank you, Taki,” he said.
Auctopus poked Taki with a tentacle. You shouldn’t leave your regular clothes behind either, it advised.
“I’m aware,” Taki grumbled. “Ah, Seimei, one moment, let me grab something from below deck.”
“Of course, captain,” Seimei intoned gravely, and Taki nearly tripped on his run for his wardrobe.
“We didn’t encounter any unusually poor weather on our way here.” Taki, now properly dressed, hauled up the anchor and dropped it onto the deck. “I’m afraid I don’t recall any mysterious lights. Auctopus?”
I ate some, the octopus said. Very tasty.
“There was at least one school of glowing fish,” Taki interpreted.
“Their range is larger than I thought,” said Seimei, consulting his notes. “It does seem as though the last of the extremely poor weather coincided with your arrival. What was the weather like, when you arrived?”
“Overcast and a little foggy,” answered Taki, recalling the complaints Hizz had made about dew on his scales. The iguana was still perched on Seimei’s shoulder, radiating self-satisfaction. “Nothing out of the ordinary for this time of the year.”
Seimei nodded. “We should investigate the fog anyways if it’s the only lead,” he decided. “It’s been quite some time since I’ve had the luxury of telling someone their problem solved themselves, and I suspect the counter won’t reset so easily.”
Taki, of course, was happy to oblige. He steered the Golden Tentacles out of the port and gave Auctopus the lead, choosing to stand at the bow with Seimei by his side. The wind whipped through their hair, sunlight the colour of treasure streaming through the clouds, and Taki had the time of his life regaling Seimei with tales from the Golden Tentacles’ adventures after the Sea of Eternity. In turn, Seimei elaborated on some of his own recent experiences.
(Some of his very concerning recent experiences. Taki rather suspected Seimei was eliding over the worst of it, which did not particularly make Fujiwara no Michinaga sound any better of a man.)
There was no fog in sight when Auctopus came to a stop. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, Taki set up a pair of fishing rods on the side furthest from the octopus as it slithered off into the water - everyone on the Golden Tentacles knew better than to compete with Auctopus for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. He took a seat and watched Seimei work his way around the ship with a handful of amulets, the occasional spark or spell falling from his fingertips to the deck.
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Seimei concluded, when he’d finished the loop to sit by Taki’s side. “Unexpected, but… perhaps I should have foreseen it.”
“Oh?” Taki prompted.
“An idea for now. We should stay for a few hours, and I’ll explain if it proves true,” said Seimei. “Taki, how well do you know these waters?”
Not particularly well for the purpose Seimei was asking, in truth; Taki knew the port well, but these waters had been picked clean decades if not centuries ago, its last treasures the relatively untreacherous currents and rich schools of fish - neither of which Taki was interested in. As a result, he had no relationships, amiable or otherwise, with the sea spirits in the area. But the waters had been quiet the last half-dozen times he’d sailed through, the same quality which made it boring to Taki rendering it undesirable for other powerful spirits too.
At heart they all liked having impressive things to parade and protect. A few shoals of mackerel were not impressive.
He said as much to Seimei, who had to hide laughter behind his fan. “A valid assessment. Then, we should not be expecting an overly powerful foe?”
“They could be a visitor to these waters, like us,” said Taki. “I know a sea serpent who goes south every winter.”
Seimei raised an eyebrow. “Do elaborate.”
So Taki told him about the serpent, and then about sea spirits he did keep relationships with - the giant squid inhabiting an enormous shipwreck on the seafloor, and the oarfish it occasionally fought with, their strength combined enough to cause earthquakes. The jellyfish who took human form purely to spin seaweed into cloth, the starfish who demanded alcohol in exchange for safe passage through his dominion, the enormous clam who lived with pearl divers and kept stern mastery over every oyster in the area.
There was never a shortage of strange wonders in the sea. Taki loved it dearly.
Seimei had listened quietly as Taki rambled, a small smile on his face. “You truly live up to a scion of the sea,” he said.
“It’s my honour,” said Taki. “I do try.”
In Seimei’s hands, the few notes he had taken - before he’d abandoned the task to listen fully to the tale of the drunken starfish - began to fold and twist. Taki watched in fascination as the paper gradually took on the shape of a ship. From the masts alone it was clearly mimicking the Golden Tentacles, but if Taki had any doubt, the papery Auctopus draped over the stern dispelled them.
“Here,” said Seimei, leaving it on top of Taki’s knee. “A good-luck charm.”
Taki was putting it into his cabin and never letting anything touch it, ever. Even Hizz was on thin ice.
“I’ve never watched anyone fold origami before,” he blurted out, hurriedly, before he could say something as stupid as his actual thoughts out loud.
Seimei’s lips twitched. “You’re welcome to spend some time at court,” he offered. “It will be alarmingly tedious, but you’ll come out with a comprehensive understanding of paper etiquette.”
“Forgive me,” said Taki, dry as the water barrels after months of sail.
But he gladly agreed when Seimei offered to teach it himself, handing out thin strips of paper cut to the width of a finger. “Let’s start with a paper star,” said Seimei, deftly weaving his strip into a little three-dimensional star.
Taki’s eyes understood the process. His fingers, used only to the pages of a ledger, did not. Undeterred, Seimei demonstrated it again; equally undeterred, Taki failed it again.
Seimei’s hands wrapped around Taki’s. “Not like that,” he chided. “Like this, Taki.”
The star took shape. Whatever else Seimei said was lost to the pounding of Taki’s heart in his ears, the narrowing of his world down to Seimei’s hands over his. He had a beautiful pair of hands, warm and brush-calloused, and Taki wanted the moment to last forever.
“Seimei-“ he began.
The ship lurched without warning to the left, and Taki had to abandon words in favour of catching the origami ship, stars, paper strips, Hizz, and Seimei himself before they fell overboard. A disgruntled Auctopus slunk over the stern, seawater still dripping from its tentacles. It eyed Taki judgementally as he scrambled to his feet, then announced, sulkily, Hungry.
“You were just in the ocean,” said Taki, confused.
Even sulkier: Nothing to eat.
“Nothing to eat?” he repeated. “What happened to the fish?”
“The fishing rods have been very quiet,” said Seimei. “I see… Taki, I suspect we will not be able to tell the townspeople their problem solved itself.”
Taki concurred. The townspeople relied on the sea for the livelihood; their problems were not solved with good weather but no fish. “What’s your plan?”
“I suspect the spirits causing trouble consider the Golden Tentacles too dangerous of a prey,” said Seimei slowly. “Hence why the last reports of poor weather and mysterious lights are from before you entered the region. Your arrival scattered them. But if there’s still no fish in the area, then whatever’s behind it isn’t gone. It’s hiding and waiting for you to leave.”
Taki was not altruistic enough to say he would stay until the troublemakers left. The port town was too boring for that. He drummed his fingers on the railing, and peered down into the depths of the ocean to no avail; like Seimei said, they were hiding.
“Let’s return to port. I’ll try again tomorrow in a less impressive ship,” said Seimei.
“Don’t be upset,” he added, when Taki frowned. “I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the day.”
Good to hear, but still - “We’re trying again tomorrow in a less impressive ship,” corrected Taki.
To his relief, Seimei easily agreed. Taki convinced the still-sulking Auctopus to turn the Golden Tentacles around with a selection of dried fish, and soon they were being propelled back in the direction of the harbour.
Behind them, thin pinpricks of white light, as scattered as sun glitter, surfaced in the waves.
When Taki met Seimei at the appointed hour the next day, the man had already acquired a boat. That was quite the impressive feat, when all the fishermen Taki had ever met would rather try their luck in the ocean than leave their boat idle for a day with no storm on the horizon. Then he spotted the hole in the hull Seimei was papering over with onmyoji spells and understood entirely.
One kind of fishermen would leave their boat idle. The kind with a leaking boat.
“Good morning, Seimei,” he said.
Seimei straightened from where he’d been working on the hull. “Taki,” he said cheerfully. “As you can see, we should be ready to set off quite soon.”
There were dark shadows under his eyes, a sight that made Taki frown. “If the hospitality here isn’t very good, you’re welcome to spend the night above the Golden Tentacles,” he offered.
Seimei was quick to reassure him that it was merely the consequence of waking up early to catch the local fishermen before all the boats were gone. “I should have stayed awake and slept only after I secured a boat,” he sighed. “They leave much earlier than the locals around Heian-Kyo.”
The sky was a dull grey when they launched the boat into the water, the talismans plastered against the hull propelling them along and saving them from having to row. Not nearly as fast as Auctopus, of course, but Auctopus had eight rowing limbs and this kind of boat sustained four at most. It clipped along at a respectable pace, the wake foaming out behind them.
Seimei pulled out a slip of paper. “I believe we were interrupted yesterday,” he said, and offered it to Taki.
The cool mist steadily condensing on his scales did nothing to offset the burning in Taki’s face when he accepted the strip, fumbling yet again his attempt to turn it into a star. Seimei hid a smile, and took Taki’s hands in his again.
Taki had to admit, it was an effective form of teaching. If he didn’t want to become the first water spirit in history to spontaneously catch fire, he had to get better at origami. As for how having their hands tangled in his hair helped his origami skills, well, that was the teacher’s duty to justify.
He even managed, with help, to fold an origami frog.
They broke apart only when one of the talismans on the boat gleamed white and melted into ash, Taki sensing the presence of spirits in the water a moment later. “Baited,” he mouthed at Seimei.
A fine drizzle began to fall, the world going dull grey with mist. Seimei picked up the paper Taki had abandoned and folded it into an umbrella, adding the sound of rain on paper to the choir. The presences in the water hesitated.
The troublemakers, Taki decided, were enormous cowards; not wanting to provoke the Golden Tentacles he could understand, but this was a dressed-up tub protected by a handful of talismans. On the bright side, anything this cowardly was not going to be a difficult opponent - once they stopped hiding, that was.
“Perhaps they need more incentive,” mused Seimei, taking out an assortment of onigiri from his bag. “Have some, Taki.”
The spirits stirred as Taki popped one into his mouth, which made for an interesting development. What was something aware enough to know onigiri was food, but not clever enough to realise they had been on the Golden Tentacles yesterday? He pondered the question as he chewed, the seaweed brightly flavourful.
Ultimately the answer was he didn’t know enough about the resident spirits to make a good guess. The ones in the water did nothing to make that easier. They slipped away into the currents as soon as Taki had eaten the last onigiri.
Taki made a mental note to never invite one as a crew member.
“That was informative, if not productive” said Seimei, turning the boat around back towards the harbour. “I didn’t expect even these amulets to ward them off. But if we still have no luck tomorrow, writing amulets for all the boats wouldn’t take too long. Then the fishermen can come back to this place.”
“The amulets would wear off eventually,” Taki pointed out.
“They will,” agreed Seimei, “but our troublemakers won’t stay either.”
Ah. Clever, warding off the spirits only until they left of their own volition for better hunting grounds. They were already hungry things - it would not take long for them to leave if every fishing boat in the vicinity was warded against their approach. And from today’s encounter, despite never meeting them, Seimei could still judge how strong the ward needed to be if in desperation they chose to attack instead of leave.
Taki applauded him, impressed.
Tagitsuhime’s head popped out of the ocean without warning when the boat was approaching port, scattering water all over Taki’s lap. He’d never been more relieved to be sitting a respectable distance away from Seimei in his entire life.
“Ta-ki,” she whined, dragging out the sound, “this place is so boring. Can I come with you tomorrow? I haven’t seen you in two days. Mister Grand Celebrity, what have you been doing together? Is it fun? Can I join?”
Taki’s ears rang. He patted her on the head.
“I’m afraid not, Sharkie,” replied Seimei, unfazed. “We’ve been tracking some troublemaking spirits in the ocean, and they’re very shy. They’ve ran from us twice already. Adding you in might make them run away faster.”
Tagitsuhime pouted but accepted the explanation, drifting with them back to the pier. “I went all the way to the foot of the mountains today and there was nothing exciting at all,” she complained. “Do humans really live happily like this?”
“Well,” said Seimei, and went into a patient explanation of the trappings of mortality to an enraptured Tagitsuhime. It dislodged distant memories in Taki’s mind - a merchant ship, his father’s lieutenant - and he busied himself tying the boat down.
“But if you don’t have anything to do,” Seimei was saying, when he paid attention again, “Taki can teach you how to fold origami stars, and you can fold them for the Golden Tentacles tomorrow. Reaching a thousand is a strong luck charm.”
Taki could what?
Tagitsuhime looked equally confused. “Taki knows origami?”
“He does,” Seimei assured her, handing over a stack of paper strips. “You can use these. But don’t pester him too hard after you’ve figured it out, he’s got a busy day tomorrow.”
This was not a dissimilar feeling to being slapped around by a huge wave. Seimei caught his eye and smiled. “I can assess your work if you’d like to bring results in the morning,” he told Tagitsuhime. “The same time tomorrow, Taki?”
Taki sighed, resigning himself to an evening of folding stars.
If anything could be said about Tagitsuhime, it was that she was a stubborn learner, strangling her paper strips until she figured it out. At least she took Seimei’s words to heart, freeing him to sleep at a reasonable hour - though, as Taki left for his cabin, he had the sinking feeling she was going to do no such thing.
Sure enough, when she came to see them off the next day, her golden eyes were cloudy with signs of sleeplessness. “I made all these, Mister Grand Celebrity!” she chirped, shoving an entire box of paper stars at Seimei. “Take a look!”
Seimei had acquired a new boat with no evident holes in the hull, a relieving sight. “These are very good, Sharkie,” he said warmly. “You can pinch the corners this way to avoid the creases here. Do you have enough paper for today?”
“Yep! Don’t worry about it.” Tagitsuhime waved a hand.
There was exactly one source of paper potentially suitable for origami on the ship. Taki silently made a note to increase Shiro-uneri’s budget.
He sensed the difference in the water almost as soon as they left the port, their lone northbound boat contrasting with faraway spots of south-faced fishermen. In that direction still lay sunlight, a calm sky, familiar waters. Here the ocean emanated hostility, the heavy clouds above fit to burst.
“You know she didn’t fold a thousand stars, don’t you,” he said at last, nodding at Tagitsuhime’s box in Seimei’s hands.
“It may not add up to a luck charm, but that doesn’t mean it has no power,” answered Seimei. “Besides, if she starts from scratch again, it’ll take her longer to be bored.”
Stellar logic, truly.
There was an ocean current beginning below them; Taki released the oars, letting the boat drift along. A whirlpool tugged at his awareness, the sea wind holding the beginnings of a bite. He had a sudden thought.
“Did you promise the fisherman to return this boat whole?”
Seimei shook his head. “I bought the boat outright,” he said. “Its odds seem very low. If it survives, perhaps I can sell it on later.”
Hizz stiffened and flicked out his tongue.
That was all the warning Taki got before the sea and sky erupted, enormous waves collapsing over the side of the boat and thunder and lightning ringing in his ears. Hooked, he thought grimly, wiping the water from his eyes.
Seimei had fared little better from the drenching; he was pouring water out of his hat, a futile task in the rain. “Are you alright, Taki?” he shouted over the rain.
Taki nodded. Excitement itched in his blood.
Another bolt of lightning arced across the sky, hitting the water a scant distance away. In its aftermath, white dots danced on the waves, ghostly sparks in the deep gloom. Taki reached for Seimei before the fog could swallow him too.
The silhouette of a ship appeared in the fog.
Common merchant ship, Taki deduced. Unsurprising, that these spirits had chosen an average vessel. Even if they had the power to manifest something as grand as the Golden Tentacles, they would not have the courage.
A rope ladder smacked into the water
“There’s our invitation,” said Seimei cheerfully.
He climbed up first, Taki bringing up the rear with Hizz safely on his shoulder. He was frowning as soon as he landed on the deck. Nothing of worth was on board - not even the sailcloth, whose tattered shreds hung limply off the mast. Taki rather suspected there was no board at all.
The ship was eerily still in the rough seas, devoid of all inhabitants but the shrieking wind. When Taki peered back over the railing, their own boat was gone - just as well that Seimei had bought it outright, even if his money had literally sailed away. They explored the two levels in silence, observing slimy seaweed on door hinges, barnacles stuck fast to barrels in the kitchen.
“Thoughts?” asked Seimei, as they climbed back to the deck. He had to hold on to his hat to stop it from flying away.
Hizz flicked his tail. Beneath us.
“The dignity has spoiled you,” muttered Taki, running a finger along Hizz’s spine. To Seimei he said, “I think they should show themselves.”
He reached out and caught the ship’s wheel.
Somewhere, something screamed.
There was a moment of weightlessness as Taki fell through the air, the ship dissipating to mist to reveal jagged rocks beneath. Then something expanded beneath him, and he landed on - paper?
The origami frog Taki had folded yesterday leaped off the rocks and caught Seimei on its back. The laughter, when it came, took Taki by surprise; euphoria bubbled out of him, uncontrollable.
“Do Sharkie’s stars have a use too?” he called.
In response, Seimei pulled out a handful and threw them into the ocean. A pack of angry funayuurei leapt out of the water, burns making pockmarks on their drowned bodies. Tagitsuhime had folded some two hundred stars last night, even disregarding the wonky ones.
She would be pretty happy to know they had this use. Taki desperately hoped Seimei never told her.
He left the sealing of the funayuurei to Seimei, focusing on rounding them up and cutting off their escape routes. Hizz wove in and out of the waves, launching the spirits into the air. Between his silver iguana force and the explosive origami stars, the funayuurei were quickly subdued, and Seimei listened to their grievances before sealing them away.
“A small purification ceremony should do the trick,” he told Taki. “They were too upset to leave for the Underworld.”
Finally - simple solutions for simple problems.
The wild weather cleared as quickly as it came, clouds parting to a clear night sky. It made for a brilliant sight after the storm - a thousand salt crystals on black silk, the barest sliver of a moon, and Seimei wringing his hair dry. Taki could never get tired of the sight.
As the frog carried them back to the harbour, there was another surprise waiting for them: Seimei’s boat, being carried aimlessly by the waves. It would be too generous to call it intact, but the major planks had survived. Indeed, it ought to make a good fit for the pieces Taki wanted to replace on the Golden Tentacles…
“You want to buy the wreckage of this boat?” asked Seimei, baffled.
Taki nodded. “It’s seaworthy and ready-made. It would be useful to have.”
They sealed the trade on the Golden Tentacles, in his cabin, after Taki had refuted no less than eight offers from Seimei to just give him the planks and after Shiro-uneri had checked them both over and poured what felt like several litres of hot soup down Taki’s throat. Tagitsuhime, fortunately, did not learn about her exploding origami stars.
“Now we can both rest easy tonight,” he remarked, relaxing into his chair. The signed contract was resting between them on the table, him and Seimei both in warm, dry clothes again. Life, at that moment, seemed quite excellent.
Seimei considered it. “Or we could do better things,” he offered, innocuously.
“I’m all ears,” Taki promised, and treasured Seimei's expression as he leaned in.