The Keeper of Night (The Keeper of Night #1)(74)

“Not anymore,” I said. “But she had two children without bones after she ruined her marriage ritual, then the next eight formed the islands of Japan. She had a few more that formed minor islands, and the last one killed her in childbirth. When Izanagi went down to Yomi to see her, Amaterasu and the sea and moon gods were born when he washed his face.”

Hiro hummed in agreement, gaze still fixed on the village. I wished once more that he would just tell me about Tamamo No Mae rather than let me imagine the worst.

The air grew cooler as we descended into the mountain shade. The village before us felt like a secret, hidden from the sea behind the great wall of Mount Yahiko and all alone among the patchwork fields of rice that stretched to the horizon.

We passed under a great vermillion torii gate and entered the village. Hiro stopped to set me down on the dirt path.

Stepping into Yahiko was like slipping into place in my own story, like I’d been destined my whole life to arrive there at that exact moment. As soon as we passed through the gate, the sky seemed to unfold in endless white, as if some celestial being had peeled open the Earth to look down at us. I didn’t believe in any gods that I hadn’t seen with my own eyes, yet I couldn’t deny that something sacred had passed through this village.

The houses of Yahiko pressed close together, not crammed and crushed like in Yomi, but huddled like comfortable friends. The trees must have looked lush and green in the spring, but in late autumn only tanned branches and bare trunks remained, the last of the brown leaves crisp under our feet. Death nudged me toward the surrounding forest, so there must have been a graveyard nearby.

“I’m going to look for the Shinigami who presides over this village,” Hiro said. “I need to get some information from him.”

“All right,” I said, starting to wave Neven over from where he’d knelt down to pet a stray cat.

Hiro shook his head, holding up a hand to stop me. “Please understand, the rural Shinigami are more traditional. He may not take kindly to foreigners asking questions.”

My face fell into a frown as I realized what Hiro was trying to say. Just how long would the label foreigner follow me in the land where I was born? I looked across the street to where Neven knelt, the silver chain of his clock dangling from his pocket like shackles binding him to London. The loss of my own clock no longer stung as much as when the chain had first broken.

Hiro sighed, setting a hand on my arm that felt like lead. “It’s not what I believe,” he said, “but he won’t see you as you are, Ren.”

My body stiffened under Hiro’s touch. Perhaps sensing my temper, he wisely dropped his hand.

“It’s not just you,” he said. “He’s likely not going to be pleased to see me, either. It’s best not to upset him twice.”

I thought back to how “kindly” the last Shinigami had taken to Hiro back at the hotel in Yomi. “You think he’ll actually talk to you?”

Hiro shrugged, gaze drifting away. “We’re here specifically on the Goddess’s business, so he has to listen, at least.”

“I’m here on her business.”

“Ren,” Hiro said, “he wouldn’t even open his door for you. I’m sorry.”

Light surged in my fingertips, but I clenched my fists and held it down. Hiro didn’t mean to upset me. He was only speaking the truth. Perhaps when Izanami acknowledged me, the other Shinigami would be forced to follow her will and respect me.

“Come find us when you’re finished,” I said, my jaw clenched hard enough to shatter my teeth.

Hiro sighed, visibly relieved that I hadn’t argued further. “It’s not a large village. I’m sure you won’t be hard to find.”

“Because I look so foreign.”

Hiro shook his head. “Because I’m drawn to you,” he said, shooting me a wicked smile. I didn’t have a chance to feel embarrassed before he turned and hurried off.

“Has he left us?” Neven said, returning to my side.

“For the moment,” I said, watching as Hiro disappeared down a side street. “Are you lucid enough to explore?”

“I can do that,” Neven said, letting me take his arm and pull him toward a forest path. I didn’t like the idea of being boxed into the small village roads, no matter how empty. Besides, Death was pulling me into the woods.

The late autumn light cast the forest in the shade of dried amber, the trees reduced to slender lines drawn from the earth up to the white sky. The crackling of dead leaves beneath our feet resembled the sound of fire as we wove through the trees and found a small trodden path.

We followed the sound of whispers up a grand set of stone stairs that opened to a pebbled courtyard warm with sunlight. A large shrine loomed over the yard, its walls built from scorched black wood and its sloped roof ornamented with gold. An elderly couple meandered around the gravel yard while a family of three took off their shoes and entered the shrine.

“It’s beautiful,” Neven said, moving closer to the shrine.

Neven’s English caused the elderly couple to turn their heads in our direction. For one guilty moment, I wished I were here with Hiro instead, speaking Japanese, doing my best not to draw attention to myself. I let my arm slip from Neven’s and drift down to my side. He didn’t seem to notice, craning for a better view.