Chapter 4 — The Battle of the Daimonji Pleasure Barges (Part 3)

Flight goggles firmly in place, Yashirō announced from the driver’s seat, “Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. The aircraft will be taking off shortly.”

Thus our pleasure locomotive chugged off from the Tadasu Forest on its journey into the night sky.

Our departed father used to love riding around on the Yajirō Express. Perhaps Yajirō was reminiscing about those good old days when it had been just him and Father, two drunkards against the world, for in his excitement he nearly ran us straight into Shimogamo Shrine.

“Safely, if you please!” Yaichirō hollered as the train just grazed the top of the vermilion gate, and with that we were off into the sky.

It was too soon to relax, though. As the railcar rocketed into the sky it tilted sharply upwards, sending everything inside tumbling to the rear in a tangled heap. A container of soup burst open, drenching all of us passengers and making us all smell of dashi.

“Tanuki have not the faintest idea of what it is to fly,” grumbled Master Akadama. “I honor you with my presence, and yet you show me this disgraceful display!”

While Yajirō and Yashirō figured out the controls, we all feared for our lives.

After what felt like an eternity the railcar gradually leveled out.

“Ding. The aircraft has reached cruising altitude. You are now free to move about the cabin.”

“Yashirō, I thought I asked you to drive safely!”

“Well, Yajirō was just going so fast!”

“Sorry,” I heard Yajirō rumble apologetically. “I just got a little carried away.”

“Don’t sweat it, Yajirō. Tonight’s all about cutting loose!”

“You silly furballs have not forgotten that I am aboard, I trust!”

“Oh dear, the soup’s gone everywhere,” Mother murmured sadly. “But the chirashizushi was always mixed up anyhow, so that’s alright. We’ll just need to tidy it up a bit, that’s all!”

Cool night air whistled through an open window as we brushed ourselves off and began to reassemble the feast. I clambered onto a seat and looked out through the window at the scene outside.

The nightscape below was speckled with innumerable pinpoints of light. Floating up through the air very close by was a contraption that resembled an oxcart¹, which must have the pleasure barge of the tanuki of Gosho. I leaned out the window and waved, and they rolled up the bamboo blinds and waved back. Hearing them blare their trumpets in salutation, Yajirō tooted his horn in reply. Trailing a glittering rainbow collage of streamers, our pleasure locomotive continued on its way through the night sky.

One after another, the bonfires were lit on the mountaintops.

“Look, Master, the bonfires!”

“Yes, I know.”

“You oughta take a look yourself.”

“And for what purpose? Wherefore should I take part in this silly human carousing?” Master Akadama steadfastly refused to look out the window.

The mountain of Nyoigadake on which the Daimonji bonfire burned was the former domain of Master Akadama, otherwise known as Yakushibō of Nyoigadake. Our father had used his once-in-a-generation shapeshifting prowess to pull off the False Nyoigadake Caper in order to strike a blow at the Kurama tengu, who had been causing havoc all over the Master’s domain. Yet Father’s heroics had all been for naught, and Master Akadama had been drummed out of Nyoigadake and forced into his present straits.

As it happened, I had had a hand in the incident at the Demon’s Perch, which had precipitated the Master’s downfall. What our great father had risked his life to protect, his fool of a son had thrown away. It was a trite, all-too-common tale, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t feel remorseful about it.

But Master Akadama displayed nary the slightest hint of fondness for Nyoigadake, instead ravenously digging into the chirashizushi and happily downing his cup of Akadama port wine, which Gyokuran kept refilling for him.

He turned and frowned at Yaichirō. “Yaichirō, why do you not take the form of Hotei tonight?”

“There is no need for it tonight,” said Yaichirō, looking unruffled in his robes.

“Come, you preen yourself overmuch. Is tonight not a night for, as you say, ‘cutting loose?’”

“He’s on his best behavior because Gyokuran is here,” I whispered in the Master’s ear.

“Hmm-hmm!” The Master cleared his throat with a knowing look. “A marriage interview between furballs. There’s no reason to be shy, I say, have at it then!”

“Master, this isn’t a sumo match,” Gyokuran said firmly. “You’re making Yaichirō nervous!”

“Yes, Master, Gyokuran is quite anxious,” added Yaichirō.

The Master looked up from his cup and glared at the two. “You furballs and your pretensions. How much more of life I have seen; think you that you could hide your affections from me?”

While it was dubious whether the Master was any great shakes at the game of love, when he went off on one of his unreasonable lectures his tengu majesty was undeniable.

“You damned furballs simply do not know your place…” As he began his lengthy pontificating, his eyes blazed brightly, and his hair stood on end as if the air was electrified. Perhaps his ire was being raised because this had reminded him that Benten was not by his side. Anguished over his own inadequacy to pursue love in his old age, it was no wonder he found it infuriating to see the overly cautious relationship playing out between Yaichirō and Gyokuran. At last he bit into his cup, spraying Akadama port wine through the air, and shook the whole locomotive with a thunderous shout.

“If you love each other, then say you love each other!”

Yaichirō and Gyokuran looked unswervingly into each other’s eyes.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Their tails sprouted out at the same time, making it rather obvious what was going through their heads.

“Hmph. Go, then, and be happy,” declared the Master.

Mother was on cloud nine as she poured a cup of Akadama port wine for the Master. “Oh Master, you certainly do have a different turn of phrase!”

“Obviously. Who do you think I am?” he boasted.

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Stepping away from the animated banquet, I ducked beneath the handstraps and went up to the driver’s seat. Through the windshield I could see the vast nightscape beneath us. The Gozan no Okuribi was drawing to an end.

From next to my ear I heard Yajirō say happily, “What a great night it’s been. Fun things are good things!”

“It’s a shame you had to stay like this the whole time.”

“‘S nothing to be sad about. Feeling you all happy in there makes my belly warm. Your belly tends to be cold all the time when you live down in a well, see?”

“Fun things are good things.”

With the glad voices of my family ringing in my ears, I looked out into the night, and thought about Father, who had once sat at the center of this happy gathering. When I thought of Father he was almost always laughing. There’d never been a tanuki who laughed so heartily as him, laughing until tears ran down his face. I’d never seen him weep before, but when I thought of it he was always crying as he laughed. That laughter must have been his fool’s blood talking.

“Huh?” Yajirō suddenly said. “It feels like something’s riding on my back.”

“I’ll go take a look.”

“You be sure not to fall off.”

“I climbed out from the driver’s window and hopped onto the roof of the fake Eizan railcar. The night wind lashed at me. Clinging to the slick metal I squinted and saw on the other side of the black, skeletal pantograph a luxurious-looking sofa. Lounging there in a yukata taking in the night air was Benten. In the spare light I could just make out her listless eyes taking in the night panorama.

“The air’s fine, Yasaburō. Come on over.”

After I pulled myself there across the roof, Benten offered me a half-emptied glass. By her feet was a large bottle of Akadama port wine.

I took a sip. “What is the Heir’s sofa doing here?”

“I’d wanted to take in the view from the air on this lovely sofa. I visited him just a while ago, but he wasn’t home, so I took the liberty of bringing the sofa with me.”

“I don’t think he’ll be pleased with you taking his belongings without permission.”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared?”

“Of course I’m scared.”

“What we need to worry about at this moment is whether or not I am comfortable. Isn’t that right?” she said, echoing the Heir. She put the bottle up to her mouth and took a swig, swallowing gulp after gulp of Faux Denki Bran. Her pale face was like a white flame lighting up the darkness, and the more she drank the whiter it became.

“Tell me, Yasaburō. Which do you like best: me, or the Heir?”

“I respect both of you as tengu,” I answered carefully. “It is only natural for a tanuki to respect tengu.”

“I hate wishy-washy answers like those. Say it again and I’ll make you into stew.”

“...You seem quite angry with the Heir, Lady Benten.”

“Why, I’m having the time of my life. I couldn’t be happier,” she said with a straight face, looking down at the city below.

Without warning a wrinkled hand came up and gripped the edge of the roof in front of me, and a wizened head popped up, its white hairs blowing this way and that in the wind like dry pampas grass.

Master Akadama tried to pull himself up onto the roof as if his life depended on it. “Surely that is Benten there?” he cried with delight. But he seemed to be having a hard time getting up here, wriggling and squirming. “Just a moment, just a moment. I shall be up presently.”

I rushed over to pull him up. But just as I did so, Benten rose from her seat and cried gaily, “Oh, look, Yasaburō. Your friends have come to say hello!”

Coming up behind us was the ship of the Ebisugawa clan.

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The ship, which would have been ours but for a bribe of Faux Denki Bran, was decked out in typical garish Ebisugawa fashion, flashing and blinking gaudily in the skies over Kyoto as it bore down upon us.

I leaned over the edge of the roof and called out to Yaichirō. “The Ebisugawas are here!”

Everyone rushed to the windows to look.

“Ugh!”

“How distasteful!”

“Damned ship of fools!”

The crimson hull of the SS Tang Envoy blinked with countless flashing lights like it was Christmas, while scarlet red beer garden lanterns were hung indiscriminately all over. On the electronic display mounted to the mainmast, random slogans flashed in large pink lettering: Proper English Gentlemen, Smooth Sailing, Thank You For Your Patronage, We Couldn’t Have Done It Without You! In its current state advertising such idiocy, it was hardly recognizable as the stately old Nanto Alliance ship, and it certainly bore no resemblance to the intrepid ships of old which had dared the perilous Genkai Sea to reach the mainland.

The disgraceful ship slowly pulled up beside our own. The Ebisugawa Guard Corps, a group of tanuki wearing pink _happi _coats emblazoned with the name Ebisugawa, gathered along their starboard railing, raining down drunken jeers on our heads. They were clearly spoiling for a fight.

On the roof I stood up and yelled back, “Drop dead! Drop dead!” After a few rounds of this back-and-forth, a gap opened in the ranks of the Ebisugawa Guard Corps, and who should show up triumphantly but the idiot brothers extraordinaire.

Kinkaku and Ginkaku were shifted into the shape of suit-wearing Hoteis, complete with top hats.

“Greetings, Shimogamo clan! As a proper English gentleman, allow me to say a few words,” called Kinkaku superciliously. “Surely that is a train, not a pleasure barge?”

“I bet it’s just Yajirō shapeshifting, Kinkaku,” Ginkaku piped up.

“Ha. Then this is not even a train!”

“We wouldn’t be caught dead flying in something like this!”

“But you know, Ginkaku, these are shameless fellows,” Kinkaku sneered contemptuously. “Really, using a train to mask their failure to obtain a real pleasure barge. Any proper tanuki would be so ashamed that the furs on their tails would fall out! But look at us, and our magnificent pleasure barge. Observe, our impeccable sense of taste! Stocked and stowed, smooth sailing. That is the mark of a capable tanuki!”

“Stocked and stowed! Smooth sailing!”

“Well? Do you have anything to say in your defence?”

“Shut up, Kinkaku,” I shouted from the roof. “That was supposed to be our ship! You just played dirty and stole it from us!”

“Us, steal it?” Kinkaku shrugged, feigning innocence. “Come now, Yasaburō, enough of this absurdity!”

“Enough of this! Enough of this!” chanted Ginkaku.

Kinkaku raised a finger in the air and paced up and down the deck.

“Ever since the departure of our distinguished father, the future of the tanuki of Kyoto has been entrusted to myself, the scion of said distinguished father. Not a tanuki in Kyoto denies it! And as a tanuki in such an important position, it would only be manners for me to go say hello to the Nanto tanuki. ‘G’day, my name is Ginkaku! Here’s to a prosperous relationship!’”

“Manners, that’s our Kinkaku! He’s not like you uncivilized tanuki!”

“Yes, yes, after all we are English gentlemen.” Kinkaku doffed his shiny golden top hat. “Of course, with such a greeting it is only fitting that one bring a gift, no? And could any gift be more exquisite than our own handcrafted Faux Denki Bran? Of course not. It was only a matter of course that the Nanto tanuki would wish to repay our good will. I will admit I was hesitant to accept the use of such a storied ship as the SS Tang Envoy, but the Nanto elders insisted, and I quote, ‘It would honor us greatly for the honorable Kinkaku of the Ebisugawa clan to accept this offering!’ How could I possibly refuse?”

“That’s right, Kinkaku. Besides, our pleasure barge crashed last year.”

“Just so. And who was it that caused it to crash—oh yes, none other than you, Yasaburō!”

Kinkaku thrust his finger, trembling with rage, directly at me.

“It was your ungentlemanly behavior which caused us so much grief. Kaisei, poor Kaisei, even said, ‘I don’t want to ride the pleasure barge because Yasaburō’s gonna do something silly again! I’d rather just keep working!’ Even now she has shut herself up in the factory. How wretched! Oh, my poor, warped little sister!”

A sudden murmur broke out among the Ebisugawa Guard Corps. The figure of an English gentleman had emerged from the red-painted cabin, and I realized that without a doubt it was the Heir. I was absolutely gobsmacked. I’d known that Kinkaku and Ginkaku had proclaimed themselves his pupils, but I never expected to actually be aboard their ship.

The Heir stood at the railing and glanced down at our fake Eizan railcar.

His gaze took in Master Akadama, sitting cross-legged by the pantograph, as well as Benten sitting on his sofa, and immediately his eyes grew cold as ice. It was immediately clear that he had filed these two away in his head as undesirables to be disregarded. I had never before in my life seen a look so filled with contempt as his was in that moment.

“Enough to try the patience of a saint, don’t you think?” murmured Benten behind me, standing up from the sofa. “Say, Yasaburō. Wouldn’t it be fun to burn that tub to the ground?”

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Inside the railcar Yaichirō was frozen in place like a statue.

In the first place he was loath to cause a ruckus at a public event like the Gozan no Okuribi, and in addition with Gyokuran on board he bore a responsibility to the Nanzenji clans, which meant that he was even more restrained than usual. But on the other hand, he was exceedingly conscientious when it came to the honor of the clan, and he was not about to just sit here and listen as these idiot brothers threw mud over the family name on a night when he was supposed to see the spirits of our ancestors off to the other side. In other words, Yaichirō wasn’t paralyzed—he was just listening to his patience groaning under the strain.

Gyokuran lost her head before Yaichirō did. Leaning out the window she shouted, “Kinkaku, Ginkaku, that’s enough!”

“Whaaa?” Kinkaku’s eyes went wide and round. “What is Gyokuran doing there?”

“I’ve been listening the entire time, and you two have been very rude. Apologize this instant! You used to be cute when you were little furball pups; I don’t know what you ate to grow up so big and stupid. Why would you ever want to be so stupid and unlovable?”

“Ooh! What a mean thing to say!”

“That really hurt!”

“Did it now? Then good. Now, apologize! If you don’t, I’ll run off and tell Kaisei!”

Kaisei, my ex-fiancée, had a foul mouth to be sure, but Gyokuran’s words held a different kind of weight all their own. Kinkaku and Ginkaku held their bellies and moaned as if they had been struck with softballs in the stomach, swelling up like great bruised blobs of _daifuku _mochi. As much as they wanted to retort, they couldn’t. Striking the railing with their top hats in their torment, at last they let slip some rather rash remarks.

“You shogi fiend!”

“Go back to Nanzenji and play with your toys!”

At those words, Yaichirō’s last thread of patience finally snapped. “What did you say!?” he roared, throwing himself half out the window, one of his hands already striped orange and black. “You dare insult even Gyokuran? You won’t get away with this!”

A mass of golden fur pushed its way out of the window and leapt from the train towards the pleasure barge. Be it for Gyokuran’s sake, even so it was awfully bold of my brother.

Terrified by the roar of the Tiger of the Kamo, the Ebisugawa Guard Corps scattered over the deck, while Kinkaku and Ginkaku transformed into a pair of gold and silver lions and met him head on. Fur flew as the savage melee got underway, and soon the three big cats were just a shining blur tumbling about the deck.

Even in his rage, two lions were probably too much for Yaichirō to handle alone. As his little brother I had a duty to help him out. Nothing good would come from sitting here and watching.

I got ready to leap off the side of the train.

But just as I did, a voice directed, “Commence bombardment!” The Ebisugawa Guard Corps formed up on the starboard railing and unleashed a simultaneous volley of fireworks at us. Rockets came whistling through the air, and Yajirō twisted and yelped, “Hot, hot, hot!”

“This is not looking good!” I took cover inside the train, but the interior was choked with so much brightly coloured smoke that it was impossible to breathe. Chased around by fiery pinwheels, Mother and Gyokuran shrieked and jumped onto the hand straps, clinging on for dear life. Meanwhile, Yashirō kept trying to pour Akadama port wine into the chagama engine.

Yajirō let out a sudden yowl. “Waagh! My butt’s on fire!”

The streamers that were tied to Yajirō’s rear were ignited by the pyrotechnics that were showering the train. The body of the railcar was starting to wobble, but I’d stuck the streamers on pretty good, and they wouldn’t come off without a fight. Now I wished I hadn’t been so gung-ho about preparing for the Okuribi.

“We’ve gotta land, Yajirō!” I shouted.

“Where am I supposed to do that?”

“We’ll have to land on the Ebisugawa ship!”

Amidst the thick barrage of fireworks, the fake Eizan railcar did an about-face and pointed its headlights directly at the ship. The blazing streamers trailed behind us like flaming filaments of goldfish poop. Once the flames reached the back of the train we’d all go hurtling down to earth, and that would be the end of the Shimogamo clan. The Ebisugawa Guard Corps could shoot all the fireworks at us they wanted, we were going to land on that ship or die trying.

The train smashed onto the deck, knocking aside tables laden with sumptuous plates, sending the Ebisugawa Guard Corps scattering, and after slamming into the mainmast finally came to rest. The world abruptly upended itself, and before we knew it we were thrown out onto the deck. I scrambled to my feet, and looking around saw a small frog moving around feebly in a pile of burning streamers.

“Save Yajirō! He’s going to burn!” Mother screamed.

I ran over and kicked aside the streamers to rescue Yajirō.

“Well, at least everyone’s in one piece,” he blithely quipped. “It was getting real warm down by my nether region. Hey, but I hear heat therapy works wonders for your nervous system.”

Up on the tilted mast, the electronic display guttered, then came falling into the deck with an almighty crash.

A silence settled over the ship. The only thing I could hear was the sound of spitting sparks coming from the ruined display. The deck was completely gutted, as if a hurricane had just swept through. Scraps of food and smashed wine bottles littered the planks, and the acrid smell of gunpowder prickled my nostrils. The Ebisugawa Guard Corps had lost their will to fight and were huddled at the gunwales; Yaichirō and Kinkaku and Ginkaku were equally bewildered.

“Tanuki truly are incorrigible fools, aren’t they?” Benten said pleasantly, descending from the sky. In her right hand she was carrying the sofa, and dangling from her left was Master Akadama.

Master Akadama was clutching his walking stick and a bottle of Akadama port wine while Benten carried him by the scruff of the neck like a naughty kitten. Here his inability to fly, a most disgraceful weakness for any tengu, was on display to the whole world, yet he glared down at all of us tanuki, his gaze filled with awesome tengu majesty.

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At this point I noticed the Heir standing alone at the bow.

His back was turned to the tanuki free-for-all, his top hat was perched perfectly on his head, and his hands were clasped behind him. No doubt he found all this chaos on deck distasteful, and his mind was probably back in his perfectly ordered drawing room.

Without turning around he began to float into the air.

Master Akadama rapped his walking stickly loudly on the deck.

“Running again?” he scoffed, his voice terrible. “Is that all you can do?”

The Heir turned round, and raised his eyebrows as if he was looking at a wriggling caterpillar.

It had been three months since these stubborn father and son had last faced each other on the roof of the Minami-za, and only the second time since the return of the Heir. It could hardly have come at a worse time. The deck was crowded with tanuki; both the Heir and Master Akadama were in supremely foul moods; and Benten was just itching for a reason. Not only that, but Benten was sitting on the sofa she had pilfered from the Heir’s house, clearly meaning to provoke him.

“How unseemly,” the Heir sniffed. “Clearly tanuki have not evolved in the slightest.”

“These furballs hardly have it in ‘em to evolve.”

“Yet is it not the responsibility of tengu to teach them manners?” The Heir walked steadily back down the bowsprit, the soles of his dress shoes clicking on the wooden spar. He raised his hands, motioning in the air almost as if he was ironing out wrinkles in his shirts again, and the excited murmuring of the tanuki died away.

The Heir turned his glare on Benten, sitting on the sofa. “Who is that woman?” he demanded.

“My prized acolyte,” said the Master. “She is very capable, unlike the last lily-livered lout!”

“A conniving thief for a disciple; you must be very proud. And riding piggyback through the sky, how delightful that must be. Now, if you wish to publicly announce your dotage, that is your affair; but I must request that you teach this woman sufficient manners to stay out of my sight.”

There was no way Benten was going to take that one lying down. The whole tanuki congregation trembled in fear, watching her expression anxiously. But Benten only continued to smile, remaining unnervingly silent.

“Is that all you have to say?” From the folds of his robe Master Akadama produced the Fūjin Raijin fan and braced himself.

Imagine what chaos would ensue If the Master were to wave that fan on this little tub. He’d unleash a rain of tanuki down on all those crowds heading home from the Okuribi festivities. “My stars,” murmured Mother, gathering Gyokuran and Yashirō into her arms. The Ebisugawa Guard Corps crouched down at the railings, holding onto whatever was in reach. I approached Master Akadama and grabbed his arm. “Master! If you use that fan here, we’ll all be blown away!”

“This is a tengu affair. Tanuki need not interfere!”

“But tonight’s Okuribi viewing was a tanuki festivity, and the argument was originally between tanuki. You must see that. Surely it would be strange for tengu to stoop into tanuki matters!”

“It’s alright, Yasaburō.” Benten rose from the sofa and stooped down to whisper in the Master’s ear. “Master, may I handle this?”

Master Akadama nodded and sheathed his weapon. “...Very well. Take care of it.”

Benten in her white yukata, versus the Heir clad in black from top to toe. The tanuki collectively held their breath and looked on, while the two stared each other down at the foot of the slanted mast. The caved-in screen of the fallen electronic signboard spat up white sparks as their gazes met, Benten holding in her anger, the Heir his disdain. A cold smile came to Benten’s face.

“The weather was stormy, the day we met in London,” spat Benten cryptically. “And how I have hated you ever since.”

Her face burned with a white-hot anger for the Heir. But the instant I looked upon that anger my chest was filled with an indescribable sorrow. I don’t think a single tanuki on the ship that day understood what I was feeling.

I was the only one that was absolutely certain—

Benten was going to lose to the Heir.

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The Heir easily dispatched Benten and floated down once more to the deck.

The tanuki on the deck were silent, looking at him with a newfound reverence.

From this night forth, all the tanuki recognized him as Master Akadama’s true heir, and as a new breed of tengu. After all, he had just sent Benten, Benten whom all had venerated and feared, crashing down to earth. No one could doubt now that he was truly a tengu.

Yet nary a look of triumph could be found on the face of the Heir, who seemed to find the awestruck looks of the tanuki quite annoying. Taking his beloved sofa in hand, he looked around at us all. “My furry friends, I bid you all good night.”

A tip of the top hat, and he was off again to that tranquil, orderly villa. He didn’t give the slightest acknowledgement of Master Akadama, nor did the Master raise a voice to him.

At last Kinkaku and Ginkaku regained their senses, and gawked at the ruined deck, looking as if they were about to cry.

“We hold you responsible for this!”

“Our beautiful ship, in ruins again!”

“Curse you, Shimogamos!”

Their bleating ceased when Master Akadama raised the Fūjin Raijin fan above his head and thundered, “You fools!” Squeaking like pups, they poofed back into their furry tanuki forms.

“Silly furballs, blathering on about responsibility. Both of you are to blame!”

“But, Master!” blubbered Kinkaku. “Surely you wouldn’t be so cruel—!”

“Silence. Return this ship to the ground at once. Else I shall blast this flimsy tub to smithereens!”

If the ship were blown out of the air the Master would be in a tight spot himself, but the Ebisugawas quaked in fear at his words, and at once dashed over the deck making ready to return to ground.

So with a sharp word from this great tengu, the Battle of the Daimonji Pleasure Barges drew to a close.

While the ship descended, I was looking over the edge. Below me was a web of light, but as I turned my gaze further north the lights became sparse. I guessed that Benten must have fallen to earth upstream along the Kamo River, somewhere north of the black forests of Kamigamo Shrine.

As the ship began its descent, the Master came up beside me and surveyed the city below.

“You know where Benten fell, Yasaburō, do you not?”

“Yes, I saw it.”

“We must go fetch her. You will come with me.”

“Of course, Master.”

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Once, behind the Amida Hall, the tumbling High Elder instructed a tanuki pup, “That tengu should interfere in the affairs of tanuki: this is not right. That tanuki should interfere in the affairs of tengu: this is also not right.”

Now that I thought about it, given his long years of experience the High Elder must have known painfully well just how tanuki longed to get involved in tengu fights, and how tengu rared to get involved in tanuki fights. That’s why he gave us those dour warnings. But his prayers were for naught, for even now tanuki long to get involved in tengu fights, and tengu rare to get involved in tanuki fights.

The Master and I took a taxi up along the Kamo River. It was the first time that Benten had ever been rendered so powerless, and I felt very somber going up to meet her.

Staring out the windows into the darkness as the taxi glided up the road, I saw it again vividly in my head, Benten and the Heir staring daggers at each other as they floated above the ship in the night sky. Surely at the time she hadn’t dreamed that she would be drubbed so soundly by the Heir.

I took a subtle glance at the Master. He didn’t seem frustrated, or upset. His eyes were stern and fixated on the darkened houses flying past, yet behind them was a gentle light. I had a feeling I had seen that look on his face before, a long time ago.

Eventually the taxi driver broke the silence. “We’re almost to Kamigamo Shrine. Where would you like me to stop?”

“I believe it is close.”

“I think it’s a little bit further,” I said, my chin pressed against the window.

“Then we shall alight at the next bridge, and search on foot.”

We got off the taxi at the West Kamo Bridge, and began to walk along the left side of the river. Everything was so quiet that the battle that had just taken place seemed like a faraway memory.

The Kamo River meandered through quiet neighborhoods and broad fields, towards the looming silhouette of the mountains in the north. On the opposite bank I saw bicycle repair shops and cement factories, shuttered and looking almost abandoned in the darkness.There was no one around, and only a few cars passed by.The dim streetlights that lined the road seemed to go on forever to the ends of the earth.

It was me who spotted Benten first.

She was sitting alone on a grassy sandbank in the middle of the river. She seemed to have splashed down in the river: her long black hair was disheveled, and her yukata was soaked and filthy. A single streak of mud ran down her cheek.

The Master and I came down the embankment, but Benten didn’t even look our way. She just stared at the surface of the water, like a lost child.

Master Akadama waded across the river to stand beside her.

“Frustrating, isn’t it?” I heard him ask.

“Yes. I’m frustrated.”

“I see. I expected so,” the Master replied gently.

I was taken back to the first time Benten had flown in the sky.

At the time she had just been snatched up from the shore of Lake Biwa, and had only just begun under Master Akadama’s instruction to hesitantly touch the tengu power within her. I had gone to present him with a bottle of Akadama port wine, and before me the Master had said to her, “Go on, do it as I taught you.” With that gentle encouragement, Benten floated into the air for the first time, amidst the falling cherry blossoms. Ever after I could never forget the way her face peeked between the branches, joyfully crying out, “I’ve done it!”

Master Akadama sat down on the long grass.

“Even tengu may fall, now and again,” he murmured, staring out at the water beside her. “If you are frustrated, become stronger.”