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By Michael Lynes
Comes now the pain...the fear...it is delicious. Throbbing, pulsing...nurturing me in my isolation. It feeds me...
***
MY DAY BEGAN BADLY. First the car wouldn’t start. Jim had warned me last spring that the battery might be a problem and he’d promised to fix it. His cancer diagnosis had put all that out of mind. We’d spent the summer fighting and hoping. I’d buried him a week before Christmas.
Now it was the second week of February, bitter cold, dark and lonely. I’d gotten past the, ‘Let me know if you need anything...’ and the, ‘Call me if you want to talk...’ offers. I’d thanked them, and declined. They were well-intentioned, but I didn’t want to talk, and I’d lost the only thing I’d ever needed. I was the last of my family; my older brothers had passed away years before. Jim’s family was small and spread wide. Our circle of friends was even smaller. It had always just been the two of us, we had no children.
Sounds romantic doesn’t it? You could imagine we were star-crossed lovers, but in truth, Jim and I had been an odd match from the start. We’d met late in our lives. Jim had been a corporate lawyer for one of the Big Five—a one-hundred-and-ten-percent legal shark. He had no wife, no relationships at all in fact. He’d never made time for anything except the practice. He’d burned out at thirty-seven, quit his job, bought a mobile-home and headed west. He always used to tell people he’d run away to join the circus, but he and I both knew it was more than that.
We’d met on a pier, one of the big ones near the Pike Place Market. I’d been walking along the harbor-side, contemplating the view, and I was cold from the wind off the Sound. Jim had just hit town that morning, almost three years to the day since he’d resigned from his firm. He’d noticed I was shivering and offered to buy me a coffee. Before I knew it, we’d spent the rest of the afternoon talking. He was so easy to talk to.
I was running away too. I was a Seattle native, the youngest child in my family, the ‘tail-end-Charlie’ with almost twenty years between me and my sibs. American by birth, I was of Japanese heritage and further, my parents and my brothers had all been born in Japan. My family name was Sarume, one of the most ancient clans, direct descendants of Amaterasu-ōmikami, the sun goddess. My father and his before him for hundreds of generations, had been trained as kannushi, or Shinto priests. Even my name, Himi-ko, means Sun-Daughter in the ancient tongue. To my father, family tradition was everything.
As youngest, (and only), daughter, my role in life was either to be married off or to stay home and ‘take care of my elders’. I’d spent my youth caring for my aging parents, waiting in vain to be rescued by ‘Mr. Right’. I had fulfilled my duty, despite the rebellion that had burned in my heart. Their passing had opened my prison door.
That morning I had signed the last of the probate documents, as well as finalized the sale of my parent’s home—as they had wished. I was free, yet I felt a curious sense of disconnection, emptiness...almost abandonment. I had taken the bayside walk to think about all of the upheaval in my life.
I confided all this and more to a perfect stranger. This tall handsome man with his sea-grey eyes and his easy smile. I remember thinking to myself ‘What are you doing?’ But it was as though the words of my life-story were being pulled from me. That afternoon conversation on the pier had turned into almost twenty-three wonderful years together. It was all over now.
I shook my head and looked up at my hands, clenched around the lifeless steering wheel. The bitter air making my teeth chatter. I’d managed to scrape together a few dollars, enough to get to town for food and return home with something more than fumes in the tank. Through the frosted windshield I could see our place. The windows were dark in the pre-dawn, only a wisp of smoke belied its deserted appearance.
Once, our home had been beautiful. After we married, a simple ceremony before a JOP, we needed a place to live. Both of us were tired of city life. Jim had sold his RV and he still had some money saved. I’d never made a dime during my life as a full-time nursemaid, but I had a small inheritance. We pooled our resources and together we sought a refuge away from the hustle and bustle, working our way up into the foothills of the Cascades.
We searched high and low. At last we’d settled on a secluded cabin about an hour or so outside of Redmond, near the tiny town of Gold Bar. The property was a former hunting lodge/camp which had fallen into disrepair. It had no running water and a big woodstove for heat, but we were looking for the simple life and we loved it.
To meet our living expenses Jim took up his boyhood love of woodworking. He became a deft joiner, turning out crafty pieces we’d sell in town. I pursued my love of writing, mostly poetry that earned me not much more than personal satisfaction, but I would write the occasional article as a freelancer for the Times, and this brought in a dollar or two. You could say we were working-poor. I would say we were two of the happiest people on Earth.
Whatever extra we had, we put into the cabin. We renovated it with love over the years, adding amenities like a decent kitchen and a bath with hot water, but we kept the stove. This part of the state was well above sea-level and winters could be cold. Jim had always kept our place warm, cutting wood off of our outsize lot all summer and feeding it into the outsize woodstove all winter. When he’d got sick there’d been no time to restock the woodhouse. The few sticks left in the back bin were my last.
I sighed, reciting an ancient prayer to my kami, my protective spirit, willing the battery into one last start. It was no use. The key turned with a dry click and then even the cabin light died.
“I guess I’m stuck for now.” I muttered.
Not that it matters, my heart whispered, it was going to be soon anyway. It might as well be today. I press a half-frozen hand to my side, feeling for the tantō I’d kept there since Jim’s death. It was an ancient blade, handed down through the generations in my family. Its presence was comforting.
I abandoned the dead sedan and went inside. I kept my winter gear on. It was a few degrees warmer within, but not enough to matter.
“Well Jim,” I said aloud, “you were right about the battery.”
Silence was my only answer. I glanced up at our kamidana—our household shrine. My family had been practitioners of Shinto since time immemorial. When my father died, I had embraced my rebellion and rejected the traditions. The kamidana had been Jim’s idea. At first, I’d resisted, but when he’d surprised me on our third anniversary with a beautiful hand-carved replica of our home fashioned into a shrine, I could not say no.
“Just for luck.” He’d said, but he knew it was for more than that.
I’d always wondered if he understood what the kami meant. What they could really do.
I turn towards the shrine, drawn to its simplicity. I haven’t sought magokoro, or purification, in many years. Today, I feel it’s appropriate, a fitting act. I make the simple preparations. I draw warm water and then mix it with salt. I remove some of my outer clothing, baring my head and hands. I say the opening prayers and wash, and then rinse my mouth and spit. I haven’t asked for the attention of my kami in so long a time, yet I do not feel any rejection. I bow and clap and bow once more. My words are for my ancestral kami, and I even include my parents in my supplication. As I do so, a feeling of peace comes over me. I no longer have my omamori, my personal amulet, but I continue – making my main prayer to Tenjin, the patron of writers and poets. His ofuda occupies the central part of our shrine. I complete my prayer and fall silent, opening my awareness. I expect that the kami will disapprove of my absence.
The response is terrifying.
***
STARLESS, AIRLESS...In this place there was no-time and no-space. It was devoid of light...except for the Doors.
Each Door was a pathway to a human heart, a conduit to the physical world. An open Door was a prayer, a supplication, an invitation to interact. Not all were heeded. Within this place—were you to think of it as a place, existed the kami. This was the All, the Musubi, the interconnecting energy of the Universe, the true Nature below all Nature. The countless kami were its manifestations, the Doors were its pulse and breath.
He waits, as patient as death. Only one Door concerns him.
***
AS I RELAX AND EXPAND my receptivity, I feel the touch of contact. The familiar room, with its shabby furniture, fades. I am surrounded by a gray light, an intangible mist.
“Saa-Roo-MAY!”
“Him-Mee-Ko Sa-RU-May!”
A voice, its tones so low they shake my very bones—echoes through the mist. It is a strange voice. Not Tenjin, the kami who inhabits my ofuda, yet it calls me by name. Fear grips me and I breathe deeply, reassuring myself. I am in shinkai, the otherworld of the kami. My person cannot be harmed. The kami calls me again, louder. I feel my body grow cold. The mist suddenly clears.
All around me is void. I feel a sense of vast emptiness. This is not the shinkai I am familiar with. I realize that my earlier interactions with Tenjin had led me to a false sense of security. My fear rises again, choking me. My eyes search the darkness, but it is as though I’ve been blinded.
“Himiko...”
I start, more in surprise than terror. Another voice calls my name, but it is a whisper, furtive and almost musical. “Here! Himiko, I am here!” It whispers. The voice is small, but crystal clear. I turn toward its source, but I see nothing.
“HIM-Mee-Ko Sarume!” The subterranean growl booms again, filling the void once more. I’m confused, disoriented, and I cower in fear, falling to my knees and curling into a protective ball. My breath seems stolen from me and a great compulsion to reply, to submit, comes over my mind. The space around me is no longer vast, I feel as though I am being crushed at the bottom of a lightless ocean. The pressure grows, inflicting horrible pain. I cry out, not in response but in agony. The voice hears me, and its cruel laughter shakes my body like a leaf in a gale.
“Ah! You are in pain. Good! Good!” It gloats, coming nearer. The pain grows, hot knives seem to tear at my chest, stab into my back and sides. I scream again, echoless. My voice is consumed by the darkness.
In the midst of my terror and pain, unbidden, a memory, clear and present as though it is playing like a movie reel, appears in my mind’s eye. It is our sixth anniversary. Jim and I are sitting together on our deck, newly built by our hands. It is a beautiful, early summer evening. The last rays of the sunset are framing his sweet face. My hand stretches forward, my fingers entwine with his. My present heart fills with an aching longing as his warm hand enfolds mine.
‘I love you...’ His lips mouth the words, his gaze dwelling on my face. Just as suddenly, it is gone. Hot tears fill my eyes, burn down my cheek. A sob of grief is torn from me.
“Ahhh...yes... I feel your agony,” The voice, almost forgotten in my distress, fills my mind once more. “More!” It commands, “Feed me!”
I shake my head like a boxer, trying to resist, but the pressure and pain intensify. I feel as though I am burning.
“What do you want?” I scream.
Never before had my experience in shinkai been so brutal. I think of the stories I had heard as a child. Ghost tales...superstition and legend. Tales of the goryo, the rampaging spirits, run through my mind. Powerful, subtle and quick to anger, the goryo were credited with many tales of destruction and violence. How could I have angered a goryo? My heart pounds in my chest, I am almost unable to form the words.
“Great One!” I gasp. “Who are you? What do you want with me?”
The voice laughs once more, mocking me and my pain. Suddenly I am no longer afraid. Anger kindles deep within my heart. I am Himiko Sarume, Daughter of the Sun, I will not be afraid. I force my eyes open, uncurl my shaking body. The voice grows silent; I can feel the goryo’s attention focus upon me.
“Yes...!” the crystal voice whispers, seeming to be within my very ears, “Yes...fight him! Your power is greater than you know! Fight!” I nod. The pain is great but I find that I can bear it. I shake my head once more. I stand.
“Hmmm”, the voice rumbles. I stare in the direction it seems to come from. There is a faint outline, a darker shade amidst the near complete blackness that surrounds me. Fear threatens once more to overwhelm me, but outrage still burns in my heart.
“Great One!” I call again as my father had instructed me. “I beg you to indulge me. How may I address you?” I bow deep, a sign of respect, but in my heart, I am defiant. The shadow moves, drawing nearer.
“Mortal...” the voice booms, “cast down your proud eyes! I am no common kami that the likes of you may be allowed to address me. I am Michizane-sama, conqueror of the Sun. It was I who brought Amaterasu to her knees. Abase yourself!”
As I watch, the shadow seems to shrink, becoming man-shaped. Its face becomes clear; stark white, hanging in the void. Great fiery eyes, a hawk-like beak of a nose, a leering toothy mouth. I am shocked, but less by the appearance of the goryo and more by what he holds. His right hand is clenched into a great fist, from it runs a chain of black iron. It leads to a huddled shape of a man. He is pale, dressed in the white robes of the dead, and bent down by the weight of a cruel collar. His grey eyes are half-closed with pain. It is Jim.
My head swims. Jim...my love...I am so sorry! The goryo’s cruel laughter rings in my ears, but I ignore it. My eyes are fixed on my Jim’s dear face. I yearn to rush to him, but I know he is dead, and enthralled by this monster. My anguish is made worse by the fact that it is surely my fault.
“So, Himi-ko, my slave! You see there is no choice for you!” My head snaps up, and I bite my lip to still the words of rage and defiance that spring to my lips. For Jim’s sake I must not provoke the demon. I lower my gaze, bowing my head almost to the ground.
“I abase myself my Lord” I intone. “What does the Great One wish me to do?”
The goryo looks at me, triumph on its hideous face. “You will feed me!” It hisses. “I hunger slave! I will have your pain, your grief, your fear!” His eyes pop open even wider. “You will come to me each day. Satisfy me or I shall destroy him!” The blood drains from my face. Sudden mists rise from the ground, obscuring my eyes. I can feel myself slipping. ‘Jim...,’ I cry, ‘I love you!’ No sound escapes my lips. The contact is broken.
***
I AM BACK. THE CABIN windows are bright with the frigid sun of midday. My body shakes with cold and hunger. My right shoulder is bruised and my jaw is sore. Sometime during my spirit journey my soulless body had fallen. I wipe a thin line of drool from my cheek.
I rise and my body groans, stiff joints aching. I ignore the pain, forcing myself into motion. There is no time for the petty issues of the flesh. “Jim...” I whisper. His soul, his reikon, has been ensnared by the goryo. I know that Michizane-sama’s true target is me; he craves my energy, my strength. Jim is his hold on me. Unless I wish Jim to be a yurei, doomed to wander the earth in eternal unrest, I must feed him.
Tears of rage and frustration wet my face. I am tired of being put-upon, tired of being the ‘good daughter’. The goryo who has captured the spirit of my husband wants to enslave me, feed off of me as my parents and my culture had done. To agree would be like losing my precious Jim all over again, only worse. An unreasoning rage comes over me. This demon will not keep him as a captive soul! I must find a way to set him free. Sudden guilt blinds me with tears. Jim’s soul would never have been vulnerable had he been given a proper Shinto burial. Now it is too late.
“Himi-ko”
My eyes snap open. It is the crystal voice. I search the room. I am alone. “Himi-ko...” it continues, “it is Tenjin-sama, and I am here.” I look towards the kamidana. Tenjin’s ofuda is glowing, twin flames stand guard on either side. I immediately bow, lowering my eyes in respect. Tenjin is my patron, great among the heavenly beings. I am acutely aware of my unkempt appearance, my unclean state. I want to beg his forgiveness. “Himiko-san, my daughter” he continues, “do not be troubled. Your devotion has never been questioned.” My eyes widen but I remain in my submissive pose. “Your dedication to your ancestors and to your parents has brought you great honor. You must never think they did not appreciate you.” Tears start from my eyes, unbidden. I never knew... “But, this is not my concern. You made a grave error in confronting the goryo, though not a fatal one. You must first understand what you fight.”
Tenjin pauses. I look up at the shrine. The ofuda is dimmer now, the twin flames only a soft glow. A feeling of great sadness seems to flow forth from it. I hold my breath in anticipation of his next words. “Himiko-san, daughter of the Sun, most honored. I bow to you in apology; I beg your indulgence and forgiveness.” Tenjin pauses again, I can feel his anguish. “Daughter...I am the goryo who afflicts you.”
“No...” I gasp, “it cannot be!” But the truth of his words strikes home. Shock, from the cold, from my famished state, from the terrible stress I have been through, overwhelms me. The room spins, all fades to black.
***
“HIMIKO...HIMIKO MY love...wake up!”
My awareness swims upward, like a fish rising to the surface of a clear lake. I can feel the warmth of the sun on my face; the air is fragrant with wildflowers. I breathe deep, savoring the moment. I know exactly where I am. I open my eyes, looking out through our open bedroom windows into limitless blue. My head rests upon Jim’s broad chest, the softness of his flannel shirt, his favorite, caresses my cheek. “Can we stay here forever?” I breathe. I hear the smile in his reply. “Your wish is my command...herewith, by special decree, I pronounce that time must stop!” I smile too, and snuggle deeper into his embrace. The breeze from the windows turns cold and the sunlight seems harsh now. I squint against the sudden glare. A numbing pain rises from my neck and shoulder. I turn seeking his warmth, but the numbness grows. ‘Jim, don’t leave me!’ But I know it is too late. My eyes flutter open. Shadows fill the room. I am lying prone on the hard-wooden planks. The fire is long gone and the wan winter sun has set. I shudder with cold.
“Return, Himiko-san...return...return!” It is Tenjin-sama, the crystal voice...my patron, and now my enemy. His light on the kamidana is lower; the flames appear as faint sparks. Even his voice seems weaker. Memory floods back, along with a deep sense of betrayal. I shake my head. There must be a way! I draw my body up to a kneeling position, legs tucked under me. I focus on the dim light coming from the kamidana.
“Tenjin-sama, how can I battle against one such as you? Why have you become evil?” Frustration and despair fill me.
“Himiko-san, time is short. The goyro has nearly consumed me. I do not have time to explain.” Tenjin’s voice fades, I strain to hear it. “Michizane-sama is my darker nature. I was attacked, in a moment of weakness...” Each word is fainter than the last...the twin flames go out, only the ofuda remains. Its light wavers, like a ghostly candle, his whispers fade. “His power...lies in darkness...fears...unlight...”
Suddenly the ofuda is extinguished. Darkness fills the room and my ears shake with disembodied laughter. A finger of flame appears, like a red-hot talon. It touches the base of the shrine. I watch in horror as the talisman flares bright, and then it crumbles into ash. Tenjin-sama!
Tenjin is consumed.
The dark laughter continues, and I feel the unwanted approach of the goryo. I am weak from hunger, numb with cold. My hand slides to the butt of my weapon. I yearn to end my misery, here and now as I had planned, but I can’t leave Jim’s reikon in the clutches of this monster. I must fight, but I don’t know how. The last words of Tenjin-sama must hold the key, but I cannot make sense of them. Darkness is surely the stronghold of my enemy, but why does he fear the unlight? I shake my head; I have no time for puzzles. I must reenter shinkai, before I am too weak to even try.
I draw my tantō and I hold it at the ready position. It is more for my own encouragement than in any hope it would be effective against the goryo. I remain on my knees, conserving my strength and balancing myself against another possible fall. I know my transition to shinkai may be the last act of my life. The kamidana is in ruins, but it is the focal point. I concentrate on the ashes of Tenjin’s ofuda.
The contact is swift and brutal.
***
“AHHH SLAVE! YOU HAVE returned and you have accepted your fate! Good!”
The void surrounds me once more; it echoes with the words of my foe. I hold my tongue, not daring to even think, lest he discern my intention. Instead I remain on my knees, in the traditional submissive pose of a miko, a shrine maiden. “Rise slave!” He commands. “Rise and feed me with your pain.”
I raise my face from the ground, careful to keep my hands within my sleeves. My eyes widen and my heart breaks. The goryo hides himself no longer. His unclothed form is repugnant, man-like but sexless, his chalk white skin and popping eyes almost shine in the impenetrable blackness. But I have no eyes for anything except Jim.
The soul of my love is chained as before, yet he seems to be more aware. He is silent, but his eyes beseech me. They are filled with agony. Anguish burns in my chest; soundless tears fill my eyes.
“Yes...yes...more...MORE!” The demon groans with delight, gorging on our shared distress. A flicker of anger flashes through me, but I control it. Instead I open myself fully...letting my feelings of pain and loss flow forth unchecked. I release all my grief and fear and pain, the years of bitterness I had felt for my parents, the resentment I harbored against my older brothers, every scintilla of the shattering loss that was Jim’s death. As I do, my spirit body changes. I feel my face burning; my hands shine with a blood red light. The goryo is in ecstasy; his eyes close as he reels with pleasure.
It is time.
Without thought, I draw my tantō – its blade is a lance of crimson. I raise it to my throat, razor edge just below my left ear. The stroke of jigai will be nearly instantaneous, painless and final. The demon is bound to me now, my soul-body’s essence is within his heart. He cannot stop me. When I die – he shall as well. This ends now.
My eyes lock on Jim’s for one last time. I freeze.
Jim’s eyes are wide and filled with fear, but it is not for himself, it is for me. With a great effort, he shakes his head, back and forth.
No
I hold my position, the keen edge millimeters from my life’s blood. His mouth moves again.
‘I love you...’
My heart shatters. “I love you too...” I whisper, and, in an instant, I am transfigured. Light, pure white as though from the heart of the sun, explodes from my breast. My raiment burns, my hands are like living sun-drops. My love for Jim sears through all of my pain, all of my grief and sorrow and bitterness. I am Himi-ko, Sun-Daughter of Amaterasu, Goddess of the Sun. I will fear no darkness, suffer no demon. I am consumed by Love—filled with Light.
Easily now, easily, I stand. My tantō is transformed, becoming a katana of pure sunlight. My enemy’s laughter is cut off like an axe chop as I raise my blade, pointing it at the chains which bind my love. They fall from him as though they never existed. We become one. Our light falls upon the goryo, and he bursts into flame. The light consumes all. We are blinded. We fly without sight into the infinite light of the Sun.
***
I OPEN MY EYES. THE rosy light of a new dawn beams through the east-facing windows. Cold and clear, a songbird calls, harbinger of the new day. I rise. My body feels light, I move easily, without pain. Our home is cold, but it no longer troubles me.
‘My love...’
‘Yes Jim...’
‘I will always be with you. I am as close to you as your heart and as near as your next thought.’
‘I know.’
‘I must abide in this place for now...but I will await you. I will always love you.’
I nod, embracing him within, with the arms of my heart. I place my tantō back at my side. The car starts with the first turn of the key. There is nothing left to fear.
