Dororo: Part Two - Chapter 14

Dororo: Part Two

Nakamura Masaru

Part 3: Kagemitsu

Chapter 14

    Biwabōshi sat in the castle town below the Daigo Clan's fortress with his lute in his lap, remembering his final meeting with the head priest of the temple called the Hall of Hell.

    The last time he’d seen the priest, he’d been headless and burned, his corpse all but destroyed in the blackened ruin of the temple. 

    When Biwabōshi had first visited the Hall of Hell, long before the fire, the head priest had been alive and well. He’d granted Biwabōshi a demon-killing sword called Hyakkimaru.

    After the fire, all that remained of both the temple and the priest was a hollow, ashen husk. The skull wasn’t too far from the head priest’s body. Biwabōshi knelt down, thinking to reunite the head priest’s pieces before giving him a proper burial. When he touched the head priest’s skull, he heard the man’s voice echo inside his mind.

    Biwabōshi. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?

    “Head priest?” At the time, Biwabōshi thought that maybe his ears were playing tricks on him. If the head priest could still talk, that must mean he was still alive, right? Was Biwabōshi standing over a different man’s corpse?

    No. It was unfortunate, but the head priest was well and truly dead. Biwabōshi would recognize his voice anywhere, and there was no one else in the Hall of Hell right now, aside from himself and the body of his old acquaintance.

    Where will you go from here? The head priest asked. What will you do?

    “What happened here?” Biwabōshi asked. “Head priest, what happened to you?”

    The forty-eight demon statues that had once stood in the Hall of Hell were gone. At first Biwabōshi considered the idea that they had burned along with everything else, but no trace of any of the statues remained.

    “Were the demons...released? Into the world?” Biwabōshi asked.

    I believe so, the head priest said. The seal that bound them here is broken. But I don’t know where they are, or how to seal them again. There is much that I don’t know. I’m sorry.

    The wind picked up suddenly, then died down. It was moving in a cyclone shape, writhing like a living thing. That was strange.

    “How?!” Biwabōshi cried out. “How were they released? Why did the temple burn, and who killed you?”

    A man came to the Hall of Hell last night, the head priest said. I think he was a lord or a king. He insisted on seeing the Hall of Hell in an imperious, pretentious way. 

    “Who was he?”

    I told you: a lord of some sort. He wore the Winding Snake of the Muroto Clan on his armor, and I don’t think he was much past thirty years old. He didn’t tell me his name, but the only clan lord that young who serves the Muroto Clan is Daigo Kagemitsu.

    “Daigo Kagemitsu?!”

    Biwabōshi had heard of the man before. Years ago, when there was peace, Daigo Kagemitsu had been fairly popular among the people he governed, since he was a fair and capable ruler. But then the war started, and...well, Kagemitsu was a young man, and unacquainted with warfare. He failed to distinguish himself in battle and was widely ridiculed by his people and the Muroto Clan, which he served. Biwabōshi had heard songs and slander about Daigo Kagemitsu at the villages near the Hall of Hell recently.

    “Why did he release the demons?” Biwabōshi asked.

    The previous day, the Muroto Clan and the Kaneyama Clan had engaged in a fierce battle at the border between their lands. Biwabōshi had been spending time in Kaneyama territory recently, and caught sight of all the soldiers marching for the border to start the battle. He’d seen Banmon at a distance before, and had no desire to to get caught up in the fighting. He’d decided to cut through the mountains and use thin animal trails to travel rather than risk his safety trying to cross the border via the main road.

    If Biwabōshi had taken the main road to the Hall of Hell, he would have made it here sooner. He carried the demon-killing sword, Hyakkimaru, with him. If he’d been here last night, he might have been able to slay the demons before they’d escaped into the world. His desire for safety had slowed his speed.

    If only...

    The head priest didn’t blame him for being absent. He bore no resentment toward Biwabōshi at all. He related the rest of what had happened to him in a calm and level tone.

 

    The sky...it’s red. Red like blood.

    The head priest of the Hall of Hell didn’t like the look of the world at sunset. There was something sinister in the air, even more so than usual. He was used to feeling the malice of the demons imprisoned in the temple, but this new, sinister aura he sensed was coming from outside the Hall of Hell, not inside it.

    Just after the sun went down, the head priest heard an explosion coming from the direction of Banmon. If there was a fight at the border that was so loud that he could hear it in the mountains, then it must be a major battle. He guessed that the Muroto Clan and the Kaneyama Clan were at war again.

    The explosion turned the evening sky red. The head priest had no other explanation for why the sky suddenly changed color like that. What else could have caused such a bizarre phenomenon?

    I wonder if it will rain. It seems to me like the Thunder God is crying out for the blood of lives shed in his name.

    Later in the night, it did rain: fat droplets that plunked on the temple’s roof in an unsteady rhythm that felt a bit mocking--or perhaps threatening.

    The night was half gone when the head priest awoke, feeling rain strike his cheek. It had blown in through the window, but he barely noticed. The sensation of ill-omened wrongness that he’d experienced before returned to him, full-force. He felt like the demons in the temple were trying to challenge him, and were planning on using something outside to do it.

    Footsteps. Someone was coming. He sat up in bed, then stood up. Mere moments later, the head priest heard pounding on the gate outside the temple. The sinister intent that the priest kept feeling must have ridden on the wind and manifested as a person.

    The head priest had reason to fear whoever was at the gate...but he couldn’t bring himself to ignore the person. There was always the possibility that they were an innocent traveler caught in the rainstorm after the battle. It was also possible that the person might break through the gate.

    The man standing in the gate was wet through. There were arrows sticking out of his back--yes, more than one--and yet, he was still standing. He wore armor, but no helmet: he must have lost it or tossed it aside because of its weight. His black hair stuck to his pale skin. Something in his eyes looked wild and frenzied, as if he were feverish.

    The head priest had no doubt that this man was the physical embodiment of the evil wind. “Who are you?” he asked.

    “I’m no one,” the man answered.

    “You seem to be a retainer of the Muroto Clan, judging by your armor,” the head priest said neutrally.

    “No!” The man insisted. “I don’t serve that clan. Not anymore. Never again!” He seemed to be on the knife edge of sanity. He was young, and looked younger wet and standing in the rain, like a child who’d been severely wronged in some way. The arrow wounds in his back were still bleeding. The head priest had no idea how he’d summoned the strength to climb all the way up the mountain from the battlefield with his wounds as severe as they were. The glint in his eyes revealed a little of what made him so determined. At this moment, he seemed immortal: like nothing and no one could kill him. The animating force that propelled him would not allow him to fall down and die.

    Kagemitsu pulled an arrow from his own side with a gasp. Blood splashed on the ground near the head priest’s feet. “Where is the Hall of Hell?”

    “I shall fetch a light and guide you,” the head priest said. He went inside to the temple’s entrance hall and lit a candle, then returned. He walked calmly in front of Daigo Kagemitsu, as if he were doing nothing more momentous than guiding him toward the nearest bathroom.

    The roof of the Hall of Hell had eight points that rose like spikes toward the sky. Kagemitsu looked up at it, taking in the sign that hung above the door. The sign read “Hall of Hell” in crisp black letters. Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating Kagemitsu’s face and the fletching of the arrows that were still stuck in his back. Light and darkness collided in the night for an instant before the darkness prevailed.

    The double doors leading into the temple were barred with iron chains. Kagemitsu drew his sword from the scabbard at his hip, then sliced through the chains in a single downward strike. He pushed the head priest aside and shoved the heavy doors open.

    Kagemitsu looked around the inside of the temple, wide-eyed. “How many demon statues are there?”

    “On the first level, there are forty. On the second level, there are eight.”

    “Forty-eight...”

    Kagemitsu snatched the candle from the head priest’s hand. Blood from his wounds dripped on the floor of the temple as he took his first hesitant steps inside.

    Lightning illuminated the faces of the demon statues. There could be no doubt that they were evil. For the briefest of moments, Kagemitsu faltered, as if he were afraid. But then he remembered his resolve. He gripped his sword tightly and looked the head priest in the eye.

    The head priest felt all the eyes of the demon statues turn toward Kagemitsu. The change was difficult for most people to notice, since it was dark, and normal statues couldn’t move. He swallowed heavily.

    The demon statues were overflowing with hatred and power. Some smiled, sneering down at Kagemitsu. It felt like the demons were laughing at the head priest. Their lust for freedom was palpable in the air. They would use Kagemitsu to get what they wanted. The head priest had to warn Kagemitsu before that could happen.

    We’re surrounded...

    Kagemitsu’s shoulders trembled finely. He had the good sense to be truly afraid, but he’d already decided that he would stand firm.

    “Were these truly carved by human hands?”

    “You can see the chisel marks,” the head priest said. “These were made by man, not by the gods.” He stood behind Kagemitsu in the temple, close to the doors. “Do you know of any other way that such statues could be formed?”

    Kagemitsu’s lips twitched upward in a faint smile. “Interesting. I’m glad I came. I want to stay here tonight. Allow me to, head priest.”

    “Alone? Surely not.”

    Kagemitsu pointed his sword at the head priest--the same sword that had cut through the chains that secured the Hall of Hell’s door. “Please.”

    The head priest didn’t flinch. "May the good spirits watch over you." He nodded, then left the Hall of Hell and closed the doors behind him. There were two dog-shaped demon statues, one to each side of the doors, but when the head priest looked on his way out, he saw that one of the demon statues was now shaped like a centipede.

 

    “What happened next?” Biwabōshi asked.

    I was standing under the gardenia tree when it happened, the head priest said. Biwabōshi remembered that there had been a living gardenia tree just outside the Hall of Hell. He looked for it, but sadly, the tree had burned in the fire along with everything else. There were many gardenia trees lining the stone path in the mountains that led up to the temple as well. Pilgrims to the temple called that path the Gardenia Way.

    The gardenia tree outside the Hall of Hell was clearly dead, but a few of its white flowers fluttered gently on the ground, pure and unburnt.

    Lightning struck the temple. That was what started the fire. As for what caused the lightning, I’m certain that you can guess.

    After leaving the Hall of Hell, the head priest had stood beneath the gardenia tree, taking shelter from the violent lashing of the rain. Biwabōshi shuddered. He both did and didn’t want to know what had happened after that.

    I lost track of time, staring up at the gardenia flowers in the rain. The wind kept trying to shake them loose. I saw lightning strike the temple. Thunder rumbled beneath my feet...

 

    The head priest guessed that something terrible had happened. There was a sound that he couldn’t quite identify, but it was cruel and bitter, like a scream--like the entire world was being tipped upside-down. Daigo Kagemitsu emerged from within the Hall of Hell, still carrying the candle. There was a raw red wound in the center of his forehead in the shape of an X. That wound had not been there before. It was carved into his flesh, just like the demon statues were carved from stone.

    Kagemitsu kicked the chains at the front of the Hall of Hell out of his way as he came outside. The statues in the Hall of Hell were still there, but they were only statues now: the evil that dwelt within them had been released into the world.

    “Lord Kagemitsu…did you bargain with the demons?” the head priest asked quietly.

    Kagemitsu stuck the point of his sword into the ground and leaned on it as if he were using a cane. “Don’t ask,” he said. “I’m sorry, priest. I need you to help me. Your body, specifically.”

    Lightning flashed overhead. Kagemitsu pulled his sword up out of the ground and chopped the head priest’s head clean off in a single stroke.

 

    I felt like I was receiving some form of divine punishment. When I was dead, I could see the demons moving away from the temple. Demons and spirits have much in common, you see. Some of the demons followed Kagemitsu. They were…they were laughing. They finally got what they wanted. The sky was full of them, flying off in all directions.

    The head priest had lingered on as a spirit, himself, which was why he and Biwabōshi were still able to communicate to some degree.

    Biwabōshi considered what the head priest had told him. “You think Daigo Kagemitsu made a deal with the demons. Do you know what kind of deal it was?”

    I do not, the head priest said. Any man who would deal with the demons in such a way is no longer human. I know that they were released, and nothing else for certain. However, I did get the sense from the demons that they wanted...meat.

    “Meat?”

    Human flesh. A sacrifice, perhaps.

    The last thing the head priest saw as the demons flew away from him were the shapes of a vulture and a baboon locked in a struggle over something. They were too far away for the head priest to be certain of what they were fighting over.

    Biwabōshi frowned. “Is that why Daigo Kagemitsu needed to kill you? Were you the sacrifice?”

    Maybe, but I don’t think so. I believe I was simply a tool, to prove to the demons that Lord Kagemitsu was serious. As for what the demons truly wanted...again, I do not know. But I know that the demons wouldn’t be content with taking my life.

    “I see. But Daigo Kagemitsu must have gained something in exchange for freeing the demons...what was he after?” That was how deals worked. Kagemitsu wouldn’t have freed the demons unless got something in return.

    I don’t know.

    Biwabōshi looked around at the Hall of Hell’s ruin. He shuddered again. The only thing that consoled him somewhat was that the head priest seemed to hold no hatred for the demons, or for Daigo Kagemitsu. He hoped that the old priest could find peace in death.

    He’s an enlightened man, Biwabōshi thought. I’m not sure I would be so calm and sanguine, in his place.

 

    Biwabōshi remained at the Hall of Hell for several days, keeping the spirit of the head priest company. This area was still suffering from terrible famine, and it was winter, so both food and shelter cost more than they normally would.

    One evening, he sat near the head priest’s body, eating a meal. A centipede, still living, was crawling up the head priest’s burned arm. He didn’t know if the head priest had noticed the centipede, too, so he asked about it.

    “There’s a centipede on your arm,” Biwabōshi said.

    What? A centipede?

    Biwabōshi flicked the centipede off the head priest’s arm and continued his meal. He kept thinking about the tragedy of it all. Could this have been avoided? If the head priest had refused to guide Daigo Kagemitsu to the Hall of Hell, would any of this have happened?

    Yes, probably. Biwabōshi doubted that Daigo Kagemitsu would have gone home without a fuss if the head priest had turned him away at the gate. Biwabōshi guessed that the head priest’s fate had been sealed at the moment Daigo Kagemitsu made his decision to come to this place.

    The head priest had gotten some warning, via the evil presence he’d felt on the wind. Maybe he should have killed Daigo Kagemitsu before he’d made the deal with the demons. But what priest was skilled enough with weapons to kill a warrior? And could a man like the head priest really murder a man in cold blood for a crime he hadn’t yet committed?

    No, the only way for the head priest to have survived that encounter would have been for him to run. And the head priest wasn’t a coward, either. The head priest had stood guard over the demon statues and the seals that held the demons in this place for many years. In the end, he hadn’t even tried to run...not even to save himself.

    Biwabōshi also remembered seeing the demon statues for the first time with his own poor eyesight. He had sensed much from the demon statues, but the demons within hadn’t spoken to him. If it was easy for men and women to make deals with demons like them, then a lot of people would probably try it...and yet, that hadn’t happened. Daigo Kagemitsu was the first man to deal with the demons on their own terms. What made him worthy of such treatment? Was Daigo Kagemitsu special in some way?

    If he was, then the head priest’s warning hadn’t been worth much. No one had previously conversed and made deals with the demons, so the head priest had no reason to believe that such a thing was possible.

    Sitting in the ruins of the Hall of Hell, Biwabōshi felt strangely grateful that the head priest was the one who was here. He had kept the demons imprisoned for so long...and now that they were free, Biwabōshi got the sense that there was a reason for it. Was this fate?

    The light of the setting sun fell upon the skull of the head priest. The skin and flesh that remained was starting to decompose. The mountain was dead silent as the huge red sun descended along the horizon line.

    Biwabōshi couldn’t stay here much longer. He had a demon-killing sword, so he should probably kill demons wherever he found them. Where were they? What should he do now?

    Travel, the head priest said. Move away from here. Your feet will guide you in the right direction. We serve the gods, and the gods will always show us where to go.

    Those words encouraged Biwabōshi. He left the Hall of Hell and wandered the world. Two years later, on a day of light spring rain, he met Jukai for the first time.

    There was a baby in Jukai’s hut, suspended in water. Biwabōshi saw the small army of spirits gathered around the baby in the water. They cried out, "Give."

    "Give me your body."

    "Me, too. I need a body!"

    "You can do it, can't you?"

    "Give."

    "Give us your body."

    When Biwabōshi spoke to Jukai, Jukai said, "They come and go as they please now, these spirits, and pay no attention to me. They're obsessed with the baby and won't leave him alone. They repeat the same things over and over."

    Biwabōshi remembered what the head priest had told him about a sacrifice. The baby was remarkable, if only because he was still alive...but he probably shouldn’t be. Not unless there was some kind of intervention, be it divine or demonic.

    The head priest had also said that the demons were fighting over meat. Had they taken this infant’s body parts to share among them? How horrific.

    Even if Biwabōshi was wrong, lesser demons and spirits were naturally drawn to this baby. If Biwabōshi left the demon-killing sword here, there was a good chance that Jukai would be able to fend them off until the boy was able to protect himself.

    Biwabōshi offered the blade known as Hyakkimaru to Jukai. "I have been looking for a home for this sword," he said. "The blade has changed hands many times, whenever there is a demon threat. I believe that it belongs here."

    "So you believe that I will need this sword someday?" Jukai asked.

    Biwabōshi nodded slowly. There was a mysterious glint in his eye, like he was seeing something far off in the future.

    Jukai accepted the sword and set it near the fire.

    "Would you like to hear how I came by the sword?" Biwabōshi asked.

    "Please," Jukai said.

    Biwabōshi told Jukai everything that the head priest had told him about Daigo Kagemitsu and the demons escaping from the Hall of Hell.

    Everyone knew what had happened after that stormy night. Daigo Kagemitsu had betrayed the Muroto Clan and taken control of their territory by force. Then he’d gathered an army and attacked the Kaneyama Clan, relying on allies from a foreign land, the Toganō Clan, to help stabilize his newly conquered territories. Eventually, he turned on his allies and took their lands, too, as well as those belonging to the Isobe Clan and the Kabei Clan.

    “So Daigo Kagemitsu sold this boy’s body to the demons in exchange for military power?” Jukai asked. He appeared disgusted.

    “I believe so.”

    “And you wish to leave this sword here so that the boy can use it to kill demons, when the time comes?”

    “Yes.”

    “It will take everything I have--everything I am--simply to make this child a body that he can use. Are you telling me that he will have to fight demons, as well? Doesn’t he have any say in this at all?”

    Jukai gazed at the baby floating in the water with a pained expression. He wanted to cry and scream and tear his hair, but that wouldn’t do any good. His heart broke for the child, but it broke silently. Outwardly, at least, he would have to be strong enough to protect this child for as long as he possibly could.

    “Daigo Kagemitsu...is probably his father. His real one,” Jukai said dully. This moment changed the course of Jukai’s future. He understood that he had to make the child stronger than himself, and to do that, he would have to do monstrous things.

    There were times when Jukai felt that he was no better than a demon, himself.

 

    Biwabōshi plucked a string on his lute. The Daigo Clan’s fortress was visible in the distance. Daigo Kagemitsu ruled over all former clan territories now, and it kept swallowing up pieces of other nations, too, a little at a time. There seemed to be no end to Kagemitsu’s ambition.

    The fortress itself was very strange-looking. It kept being built and rebuilt: however much it expanded, it always needed expanding again before long. The fortress appeared stitched together from various parts and pieces that didn’t always mesh very well together.

 

    Dororo and Hyakkimaru sat down near Banmon, right on the former border between Kaneyama Clan territory and Muroto Clan territory. The wailing of the wind finally died down, but a thick fog rose around Banmon in the wind’s absence. It wasn’t much past noon, but the fog was so thick that it completely blotted out the sun, plunging the world into darkness.

    Mom...

    Dororo gripped the hilt of his mother’s knife and silently swore revenge on the Daigo Clan.

    Don't close your eyes, Dororo's mother had said while their village burned around them. Remember everything that happens today. Never forget it.

    Dororo remembered exactly what Daigo Kagemitsu looked like. The scar shaped like an X on his forehead was distinctive, in any case. One day, Dororo would find him and kill him.

    You must live as a brave, strong boy. You cannot be a girl, never, not unless you meet a good man like your father. If you meet a man like that and want to be with him, you can, but until then, you are male. Do you understand? Men don't cry. Never cry again, unless you decide to become a woman.

    Those were some of the last words that Dororo’s mother had ever said to him.

    Hyakkimaru knew about Dororo’s past. Dororo had been following him for all this time in the hope that he would be able to take ownership of the demon-killing sword embedded in Hyakkimaru’s artificial right arm.

    My father, Hyakkimaru thought. Who is my father?!

    Hyakkimaru remembered what Jukai had said to him, on the day that he’d died: "I...am not your father.” Then who was?

    Who is my father?

    Who am I?

 

    The fog around Banmon persisted until nightfall. It was impossible to see anything. Dororo could barely see his own hand when he stuck it out in front of his face. He tried to keep watch, but all he could see in every direction was the thick white fog.

    Sometime in the night, the fog coalesced around a shape that reminded Dororo of a watchtower or a castle turret. “Daigo’s Fortress is so huge that we can still see it through this crap?” Dororo muttered.

    Hyakkimaru sensed something in the fog, too, though it wasn’t the fortress. At first, he thought he was simply sensing corpses from the old battlefield, but then he realized that something was moving. Moving toward him and Dororo, and getting closer.

    A woman?

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