Chapter 7: The Hungry Forest

Seimei borrowed a torch from Kaizato.

The firelight illuminated the torii, clearly revealing the carved name: Shimizu Rikako.

Seimei touched it lightly.
“It looks old.
Any thoughts?”

Riko’s eyes flickered with uncertainty.
“I’m wondering… could it be my brother?”

“Right, you mentioned a brother who vanished long ago,” Seimei said softly.

He traced the name, frowning slightly and shaking his head.
“Maybe just a coincidence.”
He stood, offering his hand.
“Let’s go.
Kaizato’s getting impatient.”

Riko glanced at the kind youkai, arms crossed, visibly annoyed.

“Do we have to take his ship?”
She whispered, her face showing reluctance.

Seimei paused, recalling her hatred for youkai.
“It’s the fastest way back.”

“Okay, let’s board.”
Not wanting to trouble him, she forced a nonchalant expression.

Kaizato ushered them into the cabin, and the ship sank beneath the sea.

At dawn, Heian-kyo’s Rashomon Gate opened slowly.
Commoners bustled in and out, while the noble district of Sakyo’s north slumbered in spring mist.

Walking down Suzaku Avenue, Seimei smiled, introducing his home.
“It’s just me and my father.
Few servants, only five.
My shikigami handle most tasks.”

“That Lord Tengu?”
Riko asked.

“Yes, and another shikigami, Suzaku.”

“Do all onmyouji have shikigami?”

“Not always.
They’re usually inherited, but some are bound through contracts.
Suzaku was given by my master.
Tengu challenged me, lost, and bound himself.”

“So, if someone unskilled inherits a shikigami, they’d be strong?”

“A shikigami’s power depends on its master’s spiritual energy,” Seimei explained.
“The stronger the master, the stronger the shikigami.”

“I see.”
Riko nodded.

“We’re here,” Seimei pointed to a mansion by the street.
“On Tsuchimikado Avenue, easy to find.”

Riko looked up.
Nestled among ornate Japanese estates on the quiet stone-paved road, the mansion was unassuming yet elegant, unlike the gaudy gold-foil-roofed homes nearby.

Entering the courtyard, a pebble path led to the entrance, flanked by white sand and artfully placed flora.
The sand was raked into smooth ripples, like a formation.

“Those are azaleas,” Seimei said, following her gaze.
“When they bloom, the white sand and red flowers make a lovely spot for cooling off.”

“Young master, the master awaits in the hall,” a servant said.

“Good.”
Seimei nodded warmly.

Meeting Seimei’s father made Riko nervous, fearing he’d dislike her.
Why should he be responsible for her, a stranger?

Guilt toward Seimei crept in.
He’d taken on this burden without hesitation.

“Don’t worry,” Seimei smiled.
“My father’s kind.”

His gentleness was unwavering, but her nerves didn’t ease.

Meeting Abe Yasunari, she relaxed.
As Seimei said, he was gentle and considerate, avoiding her painful past or family history, only urging her to feel at home.

Seimei: “I had Suzaku prepare a room.
Check it out.
We can adjust anything now.”

Knowing they had more to discuss, Riko thanked him and followed a maid out.

Once she was gone, Seimei closed the sliding door.

“Father, did you read my letter?”

“Yes, about the girl?”
Abe Yasunari smiled.
Unlike Seimei’s striking beauty, he was warm and sturdy.

“Yes, and one more thing,” Seimei said.
“Don’t tell her I’m a white fox’s son.
She distrusts youkai.
Though Mother wasn’t a youkai, after that incident, no one sees her as a god anymore.”

Yasunari nodded.
“We’ve kept it secret before, and we will until the truth comes out.
No leads from Harima?”

“None.
I visited Mother’s shrine.
Only a torii remains.”
Seimei’s voice was flat.

“Hm.”
Yasunari’s face showed no surprise, as if used to such news.
He paused, a teasing smile forming.
“What about this girl?
Picking a wife?
She’s quite pretty.”

Seimei startled.
“Of course not.”

“No matter.
After your mother, I won’t meddle in your choices.”

“I said it’s not like that.”
Seimei stood to leave.

“By the way, her father was Suruga’s governor,” Yasunari said slowly.
“I heard the Minamoto and Shimizu families have a betrothal.”

“Betrothal?”
Seimei frowned slightly.
“Which Minamoto?”

“Hm, I forget.
Heard it years ago.”
Yasunari mused.

Riko knelt awkwardly on a cushion, scanning the room as the maid left.
She’d changed from her bathrobe into a light orange outfit with dandelion embroidery, her braid adorned with a matching ribbon.

The room had an outer and inner section, divided by a sliding door.
Elegantly furnished, it featured a landscape painting on the wall, a low cabinet with girls’ items, and a ceramic doll for children.
Spacious and airy.

Seimei’s room was next door, connected by a wooden bridge visible through a side door.

She lowered her eyes, fingers twisting the Hontsubo Bell’s cord, making faint chimes.

“Why so still?”
A voice came from the door.
Seimei entered, carrying her bundle.

“Here.”
He set it on a low table.
“If you’re not tired, we can make your grandmother’s memorial now.”

“I’m not tired.”
Riko stood, slipping on clogs and rushing to the courtyard, turning to Seimei.
He smiled softly, strolling out.

Heading to the outer garden, Seimei asked,
“Like the room?”

“Yes,” Riko nodded.
“But it’s too nice.
I’d be fine with less.”

Seimei found her earnestness adorable, her black braid and petal-like lips charming.
His father’s words echoed: Is she your chosen wife?
He shook the thought away.
That wasn’t why he saved her.

“Seimei, I heard you were back!”
A handsome boy approached, hair tied high, wearing ornate robes with a flute at his waist.

“Hiromasa?”
Seimei paused, glancing at Riko.

“Why so surprised?”
Minamoto no Hiromasa walked up, smiling brightly, unburdened by noble life.
“Who’s this?”
He eyed Riko curiously.

“None of your business.”
Seimei’s tone was flat.

“Fine.”
Hiromasa backed off, sensing a ask-and-die vibe.
“Where you headed?
If you’re free, let’s go to Shinsen’en.”

“To the cherry grove outside the city for a memorial.”
Seimei said.

“Alright.”
Seeing the vibe linger, Hiromasa dropped it.
“Take me along.
My carriage is at the gate.”

Seimei glanced at Riko’s blank expression, frowning.
Not him?

The cherry grove outside Heian-kyo lay by the Kamo River.
Though the blossoms hadn’t opened, people played along the banks.

They found a quiet spot and made the memorial.

Hiromasa watched Riko’s tears and Seimei’s solemn face, staying silent in the heavy mood.
When her tears slowed, he exhaled.

“Let’s play by the Kamo River.”
The carefree noble invited.

Seimei looked at Riko, then Hiromasa, sighing.
“Hiromasa, I need to ask you something.”

“What?”
Hiromasa said.

Riko, sensing private talk, hurried ahead.

“Do you have a fiancée?”
Seimei asked bluntly.

“Me?”
Hiromasa looked shocked.
“Why would I have one?”

“Not you?”
Seimei frowned, puzzled.

“You’re acting weird today, Seimei.”
Hiromasa studied him, smirking.
“Your attitude’s been off since we met.
Now this question.
Do you like that Shimizu Rikako girl and heard she’s betrothed, so you’re scheming to break it?”

“Don’t talk nonsense.”
Seimei scowled, mentally sifting through other Minamoto.
“I’m above such base desires.
I won’t marry.”

Hiromasa chuckled.
“Yeah, right.”

The sky darkened, a black mist veiling the sun.

“Damn, the scent’s still there.”
Seimei’s eyes sharpened.

“What?”

“So hungry, so hungry.”

A boy appeared in the grove, curled up, muttering weakly in pain.

Strikingly handsome, passersby gathered.
“You hungry?
Take this red bean bun.”

“What a beautiful boy.
Whose young lord is he?”

“So gorgeous.”

People marveled, offering food from their baskets.

Only Riko saw a lifeless quality in his flawless, joyful smile, chilling her.
She tried to back away, but a hemispherical barrier trapped them.

“Not enough, this isn’t enough.”
The boy ate everything offered.

“There’s more.”
Kind people emptied their baskets.

“Still not enough.”
The boy stood, looking ready to cry.

Panic spread.

“Something’s off with this kid.”

“Who eats more than an ox cart can hold?”

They retreated, seeking escape, but soon returned.

“What’s happening?
Why are we back?”

“Still hungry.”
The boy whined, reaching out.
“So hungry.”

People scattered, shouting,
“Is it a youkai?
It’s a youkai!”

“Brother!”
A distant call grew closer.

A girl in red robes appeared.
“Brother, there you are.”

“I’m so hungry.”
The boy clutched his stomach, nearly crying, calling to her.
“Momiji, I’m so hungry.”

“Oh, you’re hopeless,” Momiji landed beside him, fondly ruffling his hair, her eyes sweeping over the trembling humans.
“Look, you’ve gathered plenty of food.
Why not eat them?”

“Momiji, I’m scared.”
The boy hugged her slim waist.
“I can’t eat people.
But I’m so hungry.”
He nibbled a finger, pouting.

His innocent look sparked Momiji’s maternal instinct.
“Oh, my brother’s so cute.
It’s no surprise you’d say that, so kind.”

Cute?
Just a giant baby.

Riko edged back, hiding behind a cherry tree.

Knowing Seimei was nearby, she wasn’t as paralyzed as when she faced the yamajiji.
Hidden, she racked her brain for ways to stall until Seimei found her.

After some thought, she quickly cut small paper dolls and tucked them away, then made paper lightbulbs for them to hold.
Not much to think about—she only knew these tricks.

“So hungry, so hungry.”
The giant baby wailed.
“I can’t kill, boo-hoo.”

“Alright, I know.”
Momiji soothed him lovingly.
“Let me handle the tough part for you.”

With a sleeve flick, countless red leaves shot out like a rain of blades.
A red blood mist filled the grove.

People screamed, collapsing.
The boy jumped gleefully, hands outstretched.
Carelessly, a sharp leaf cut his hand.
Unlike human red blood, his was green, exuding a vine-like fragrance.

Simultaneously, Riko’s Hontsubo Bell vibrated.
The wooden tag inside glowed red, like the hungry youkai’s eyes.

Curled under the tree roots, Riko didn’t dare look.
Staring at the bell, she whispered,
“Are you hungry too?”

Momiji led the boy to the mangled, unrecognizable remains.

She tilted her head gently.
“Enjoy, brother.”