In the days that followed, life in Japan returned to normal. Hidden shrines throughout the country threw open their doors, and those who had come seeking shelter slowly made their way back to their devastated homes. As a people, they had been at the heart of something momentous, something profound. And while few remembered more than pounding rains and shaking earth, collectively they felt as though the world had been cleansed, their lives spared. Those closest to the battle bowed reverently at the beautiful volcano in the distance. No trace of the violent eruption marred its surface, a miracle many believed, and further proof of its mystic power.
The lands around the mountain had not been so fortunate.
Wherever the people looked, they saw signs of a cataclysmic struggle. Most of the buildings within the Five Lakes region lay in ruins, stone, steel, and concrete pulverized as easily as wood and paper. None of the roads were fit for travel, and those that weren’t covered with debris had either been melted or washed away. Huge craters pitted the landscape, and more often than not, charred stumps and piles of cooling ash surrounded them. The massive fortress that appeared at the edges of Aokigahara had vanished as well, though strangely, the ground where it had stood was the only area to have escaped the carnage.
Stranger still, sightings of gigantic creatures flooded local authorities in Japan and beyond. Several airliners radioed their towers as they flew into Asia, each claiming to have spotted a huge white bird winging its way over the Philippine Sea. On the waves below, a number of cargo ships steaming through the same area frantically called to port with identical descriptions of a serpentine creature racing just beneath the surface; one hundred fifty to two hundred feet long, with vivid turquoise stripes running the length of its aquamarine body.
In Nepal, the pilot of a small sightseeing plane told his home base that he’d seen a massive stone giant standing on the top of Mount Kanchenjunga’s highest peak. Incredibly, a large dark-skinned man sat contentedly in one opened hand, a diamond-and-gold encrusted hammer balanced on his knees. Banking through a flurry of low-level clouds, the pilot brought the plane’s nose about for another look only to find that the giant had all but disappeared, two enormous footprints in the glacial snows marking where it had been.
A short time later, in the middle of the Pacific, the USS Ronald Reagan led a small, tactical group of warships through a series of training maneuvers. Less than three days out of Pearl Harbor, it steamed easily across the open seas on a heading that would take it into a deserted stretch of ocean. In the distance, where there should have been nothing but the slow, graceful arc of the horizon, a huge atoll rose out of the waves before it.
Puzzled, the captain ordered a slow halt and lifted his binoculars to his eyes for a better look. Abruptly, he pulled back in shock, blinked, and looked again, certain his mind had tricked him. But then, as soon as he’d adjusted the lenses, he saw them again: a tall man wearing a flowing white shirt over dark pants and a pair of stout, leather boots. His hair was a deep brown, cut short and framing a handsome face. Beside him, strolling along happily with her hand in his was the most achingly beautiful woman he had ever seen. Golden hair cascaded over a filmy dress the color of tropical seas. The garment shimmered as she moved like the sun glinting off the waves below.
The two had reached the edge of the limestone rock when the captain saw her turn her head toward the man, and – after throwing him a dazzling smile – raise a hand over her head, her face radiant. As if in response, the seas boiled. Gales swirled around them, appearing from nowhere to join a climbing wall of water, the two pushing the whole into the heavens. The storm lasted for only a minute, hanging suspended over the Pacific before collapsing, the water rushing back down to meet the ocean like a monsoon. The atoll gone as though it had never existed.
Takeshi Akiko sauntered over a simple wooden bridge, his face lifted to the sky. “Ah,” he said wistfully. “They have gone.” He slowed to a stop near the end of the Uji Bridge and the entrance to Japan’s most sacred shrine: Ise City’s Naiku, legendary home of Amaterasu Omikami, the Sun Goddess.
Yui was only a few steps behind him, her long, black hair pulled away from her face and held in place with a clip resembling a white crane in flight. She had forsaken her robes in favor of a more comfortable tunic of fine white silk, worn over a pair of black pants that whisked rhythmically as she walked. Pausing, she bowed her head only to have Keiko stumble into her.
“Honestly, Yui,” Keiko grumbled. “You can’t just stop in the middle of the bridge. Not with someone right behind you.”
Yui’s eyebrow twitched as she glared down at Keiko. “I stopped to pay my respects to my friends. Perhaps if you’d been watching where you were going instead of gawking, you might have noticed.”
Keiko sniffed and tossed her head. “I was just taking in the sights. I am on vacation, remember?” She wagged a finger under Yui’s nose in an attempt to gain the moral authority she knew she lacked. “Lucky for you you’re not going back to your old job. I mean, really, how can you call yourself a guide when you don’t even spare a minute to tell me anything about this incredible place?”
Yui’s eyes widened. She looked as if she was about to respond when her father interrupted.
“Yui warned me you were inquisitive.” Takeshi’s eyes twinkled. “I hope her replacement will not disappoint you. He is… untrained.”
“I’m sure you’ll do just fine.” Keiko gave his arm an affectionate – if inappropriate – pat. “If we ever get there, that is. I’ve been dreaming about this ever since you suggested it, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to be on my way as soon as possible.” Moving to one side, she bowed and swept an arm down the bridge. “After you.”
“Careful, Father,” Yui chortled, falling in behind Takeshi as he smiled and led them down the bridge. “The guardian sometimes forgets which of us is the Kami, a flaw I trust you can smooth over… given time.” She sighed sadly. “I still don’t understand why you won’t leave her with me. She Awakened because of my summons. She belongs with me.”
The hitch in Yui’s voice made Keiko pause. She didn’t want to leave Yui either – they’d been through so much together. “We’ve been over this, Yui. You saw what I did in the White Spirit. I have to learn how to use this power before I hurt someone.”
“I thought you wanted to stay.”
“I do,” Keiko said. “More than anything. When my father died, I thought I’d lost everything. Coming here, meeting you – all of you – you’re my family, the family I didn’t know I had.”
“But you’re giving it up.” Yui sounded injured. “After fighting so hard to find it.”
Yui’s words tugged at Keiko’s heart. “I have to. I don’t think I could live with myself if I did something bad by accident. We’ve all seen what happens when we do what we want instead of what we should. Vissyus died because of it, others too. Thousands of them. It has to mean something, Yui, and it won’t if we forget why it happened.”
Yui stared at her for a moment, then lowered her head and nodded. She’d lost this argument once already, and she knew she’d lose it again. An uncomfortable silence settled over them, broken now and again by birdsong and the slow gurgle of the Isuzu River.
Eventually, they passed under the unpainted torii gate marking the end of the bridge and continued down a long, stone path cut into a forest of ancient cedars. Checkered sunlight spilled onto the ground at their feet, filtered and muted by the tree’s thick green leaves. The temperature dropped under the wood, making their journey more comfortable. For a long time, none of them spoke, either content to drink in the shrine’s majesty or reflecting on the past, both recent and distant. After a while, the path gave way to a steep flight of wide gray steps. The climb was long, though not particularly arduous, and Keiko soon found herself walking through a series of gated enclosures leading to the Inner Shrine.
A pair of bronze hinged doors swung inward as they approached a formidable wooden building. Once inside, Takeshi brought them to the end of a short room, where an empty dais sat upon an elevated platform. A ball of white light formed before him, growing and opening until another world appeared on the other side.
Beyond it, a beautiful woman shimmered into focus. She was clad in flowing silver and white, her hair pulled away from her face and held back with three simple red-lacquered sticks. Kind, yellow-tinted eyes shone out of an oval-shaped face so like Yui’s that Keiko had to turn to make sure the younger Akiko still stood beside her.
“Hello, Teras,” Takeshi said, his eyes as bright as hers. “I would like you to meet someone very special.” Stepping aside, he eased Keiko forward. “This is Keiko Yamanaka.”
The woman’s bow was fluid and willowy. “You have my eternal gratitude, Yamanaka-san.” Her voice was light – like Yui’s – and filled with comforting warmth. “I am Teras, Lady of Light, known to you as Amaterasu, the Sun Goddess.”
Keiko returned the greeting with a perfect bow of her own: slow, graceful, and proud. “A difficult charge, my lady. But I managed.”
The lady’s eyes widened. “Is that so?” She laughed, the sound coming out like the ringing of clean, clear chimes. “The lack of a mother’s touch, I fear, has roughened her a little around the edges.”
“Nothing a good man can’t fix.” Keiko shot Yui a meaningful look.
“True,” Takeshi chuckled. “So true. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to have a few private words with Yui before I go. Please say your goodbyes and join Teras in the Boundary. She promised to look after you until I can join you.”
Bristling with excitement, Keiko scampered over to Yui and threw her arms around her. “You are the best friend I’ve ever had, you know that, right?” The words rushed out of her mouth, her eyes teared. “And because I wouldn’t trust this to anyone else…” She removed her pack and rummaged through it. A second later, she lifted her beloved camera, its metallic casing resting atop her open palms. “I don’t need it anymore, and, thanks to you, I’ve learned how to make memories of my own.”
Overwhelmed, Yui extended her hands and took the camera. “Thank you, guardian.” She bowed. “I shall cherish it. It will have a place of honor in the White Spirit.”
Keiko nodded back and climbed onto the platform. Pivoting, she took one last look at her world and inhaled. Adventure waited for her on the other side of that Gateway, infinite worlds and infinite beauty. She couldn’t wait.
“I will hold you to your promise, old man.” She jabbed a finger at Takeshi. “That was the deal. You show me everything, and I let you train me.”
“So it was, Yamanaka-san.” Takeshi chuckled. “I always keep my promises. You should know that by now.” He gestured at the Gate. “Go on ahead. I’ll be with you shortly.”
Keiko bobbed her head in reply and raised her shield. It was easy for her now, as easy as running. A contented sigh escaped her lips as she squared her shoulders and walked into the Gate’s shining light.
Once they were alone, Takeshi walked over to Yui and embraced her. “I could not be more proud of you, Yui-chan. You have grown into a remarkable woman, one with heart and courage and wit and wisdom to match. That’s why I decided to leave this world to you.”
Yui blushed at the compliment, and while she wanted to lower her eyes, she did not, preferring to bask in her father’s love a little longer. “I will do my best. Vissyus and Lon-Shan left deep scars.”
Takeshi shook his head sadly. “A fine example we turned out to be. Still, if anyone can show them the way, it is you, the youngest of our kind, born into this world and a part of it. I have every confidence in you, daughter.”
“Thank you, Father.” Yui hugged him back. “I will come through the Boundary from time to time to report to you, and to ask for guidance when I need it. Your faith honors me, but I wish you would let Keiko stay behind. I’ll need a guardian to help shape the future.”
Eyes twinkling, Takeshi put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. “Summon one then. A new one, one that can work with you. You may be surprised by what responds.” He patted Yui’s shoulder one last time before following Keiko into the Boundary.
It was some time after that parting before Yui returned to her new chambers in the White Spirit. She’d spent her days traveling from one shrine to the next, reblessing them and meeting with her father’s disciples to brief them on what had happened. To them, she assigned the arduous task of rebuilding Japan.
One week later, when the emperor entered his throne room to welcome the American president and his promise of emergency aid, he found Yui seated upon the Chrysanthemum Throne. Her eyes locked with his, and he fell to his knees. He swore his life to her before his brow even touched the tatami mats. She flashed a kind smile, blessed him, and then flew into the skies without looking back.
For the better part of that week, she crisscrossed the globe, inspecting the Gateways before closing them. When she left the portal into Seirin’s world, she flew from the Caribbean, and headed directly to Hurricane Point. Seirin may have moved her palace to the Pacific before taking it from the world, but Aeryk had kept his here.
She found it exactly where he said it would be, floating over the southern Atlantic within its massive cloud walls. Aeryk offered it to her as an outpost in the west, a base from which she could watch events in the Americas and in Europe and take action if necessary. She had accepted, bowing lower than custom allowed.
Exhausted, she returned to the White Spirit the following day, and finally, after a visit to the hot springs and a well-deserved rest, she made her way into the main hall. Gone were her simple blue-and-white tunic and pants, replaced with an elaborately embroidered kimono, indigo slashed with yellow sunfire and belted with a golden obi. Soft white slippers covered her feet, and as she folded them beneath her body and lowered herself onto the raised dais, she closed her eyes and opened her mind to the void. Her thoughts raced through infinity in search of a kindred soul, one that would respond to her unique blending of spirit and light.
For a moment, she was afraid none would come, that Vissyus had frightened the lesser Kami too much to chance serving one such as she, one who could command two elemental forces. But then, just as she was about to recast her summons, the mats below began to shimmer. Cursing under her breath, she started to stand, her mind already selecting a more suitable spot for the guardian to craft a new form for itself, one large enough to accommodate even Ventyre’s great body and wingspan.
By the time she’d lifted herself to her knees, however, the guardian before her took shape. “I am here, mistress,” it said, its tone strong and resonant, its voice unbelievably familiar. Her eyes flew open. A man knelt before her – head bowed and face half hidden in robes of periwinkle blue.
“So have I been summoned, so have I come,” he intoned. “I, Masato Yamanaka, guardian of Heaven, submit myself to you, to protect and serve you until the end of the world.”
Yui staggered to her feet and took one tentative step from the dais. “How?” Her chest tightened. She was afraid. As much as she ached for this, she worried it might not be real.
“I left a part of myself within my daughter. When Lord Takeshi found what I had done, he ordered me to continue guiding her. As a reward, he released me from my oaths, except the one I made to him. He said he would use that when the time came.”
Yui moved from the platform to stand in front him, her eyes never leaving his face. As she crouched down, her hand came up to stroke his cheek. Her thoughts raced to the back of the room. They lifted his staff and brought it out of the alcove in a blaze of amber light. Tears, joyous and disbelieving, streaked her face. When she could no longer stand it, she broke with tradition, threw her arms around his neck, and wept tears of joy.
Lost in emotion, neither noticed the glassy eye of a twenty year-old camera at the back of the chambers, its strap looped around the neck of Takeshi’s crimson armor. A faint, muffled click rose from the shutter, too quiet for them to hear and useless for the camera’s lack of film. It captured the scene nonetheless, the images hurtling across time and space, reaching into and across the Boundary where a self-congratulatory sniff and a wide, teary eyed smile awaited them.