It was a week after his arrival at the small Inari shrine that he’d inherited ownership of, that the metaphorical other shoe dropped. They’d held a New Moon festival the day before yesterday, one that had proven quite popular both with the local human population, and with the ‘Others’ that lived in secret near-by.
Paul had thought the hangover he’d suffered yesterday was the only negative outcome, aside from the modicum of embarrassment from finding the shrine’s resident deity in his bed.
Now he was having second thoughts about that, as there was a couple of policemen and a man in grey suit carrying a briefcase walking up the flight of stairs to the shrine. Paul noticed with some concern, that while the policemen were walking respectfully on the left-hand side of the steps, the man in the grey suit squarely occupied the middle of the path, which was supposedly reserved for the gods alone.
Paul leant against the broom he’d been using to sweep the courtyard with, idly twirling the bit of red ribbon tied around the broom handle around his finger while he waited for them to complete their ascent.
The police men, both younger men, bowed slightly once they reached the torii gate that marked the boundary of the shrine itself. Paul inclined his head.
“Good day to you officers, can I offer you refreshments? It’s a hot day, and I know how steep those steps are.”
“Ah.. thank..”
The man in grey suit interrupted.
“We are here on official business. Please fetch the master of this temple.”
Paul raised an eyebrow.
“That is unclear, do you wish to speak to the secular owner of the property, the priest, or the deity who resides here?”
The grey-suited man’s expression didn’t even flicker. He just pushed his square, black-rimmed glasses a bit further up the thin bridge of his nose.
“The secular owner. The government does not interfere in religion, nor does it recognise the existence of supernatural entities.”
“Ah. I see, well then, how may I help you?”
The man made a small tsk sound, and spoke somewhat louder, and slower, as if to someone who was intellectually ‘challenged’.
“I said, we wish to speak to the person who owns this property.”
“Yes.. I understood your request perfectly well.”
“Well then?”
“Very well thank you...”
Paul had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, as the grey-suited official gritted his teeth.
“Take. Us. To. Your. Master.”
The ‘you stupid foreigner’ was silent, but nonetheless clearly heard.
Paul sighed, and noticed that the younger of the two police officers was going a rather dramatic shade of beetroot from associated embarrassment at his superior’s behaviour. The slightly older of the pair looked as if he was a little more used to the government man’s attitude, although not any more impressed by it.
Paul stood straighter, a good head and shoulders above the trio, and looked down at the officious oaf.
“I understood you perfectly well, despite your rural accent, sir. What you have clearly failed to comprehend is that you are, in fact, addressing the owner of this temple. In person. So, I would appreciate it if you would state your business and then depart, as you are disturbing the tranquillity.”
To his credit, the government man didn’t flinch, although he did raise an eyebrow.
“You have proof of this?”
“I fail to see why I should need to prove my ownership, to someone who walks in off the street without so much as an introduction.”
The younger of the two police officers spoke up..
“Ah, forgive us sir, but we would very much appreciate it if you would at least tell us your name!”
Paul gave all three a cold stare… putting into it as much aristocratic contempt as he could dredge up from his English ancestry. The government man seemed impervious, despite Paul’s basilisk gaze at him. In contrast, the two police officers wilted just from being in the penumbra of Paul’s frigid glare. Which, it had to be said, was worthy of even the most High-born Norman nobleman upon viewing some Saxon scum.
“Very well then. Since you asked so very politely. My name is Paul Holmes, formerly of Great Britain, recent inheritor of this temple and the mountain upon which it stands. And you, sir, are..?”
The grey-suited man produced a business card, presenting it with a bow, holding it in both hands as if it was a small tray.
“Itaskai Fumihiro, regional agent of the Land Bureau and representative of the Mayor.”
Paul glanced at the card, which was little more than a plain white rectangle giving him the man’s name, title and number. Paul slipped it into a pocket and taking out the silver card case he’d bought before coming over, took out one of his own business cards.
Paul had done his research, the exchange of cards was an important ritual in Japanese daily business life, and he’d been determined to make a good first impression. His business cards were a pale cream heavy weight card stock, with a subtlety embossed border in British Hunter Green. His full name, with a smaller kenji transliteration underneath, was printed in bold Gothic font across the top third of the card, with his profession as ‘Author’ underneath and several options as to means of contact in a small font at the bottom, arranged in a calligraphic stylised quill and ink well.
Itaskai barely glanced at it, then stopped himself and studied it for a longer second look.
“Forgive me, you are that Paul Holmes? The writer of the Judge Series of novels?”
Paul smiled, with just a hint of teeth behind it.
“I am, yes. You’ve read them?”
“Ah..no…regretfully. My wife however, speaks highly of them.”
“I see… well, I believe I might have a copy of the latest one lying around. I could sign it for her if you wished.”
Itaskai unbent slightly, bowing rather more earnestly.
“I am certain she would be most grateful, Holmes-sama.”
“Very well then, perhaps we could conduct our business in the shade? I’m sure you gentlemen are used to this climate, but I am still adapting.”
“Ah, of course.”
Once they were all settled around the low table on the veranda, Paul poured four glasses from the ice-filled pitcher of lemonade.
“I hope you don’t mind, I made it myself for an English palette. It might be a bit tart by your standards.”
The three visitors sipped, and made complementary noises although Paul noticed that Itaskai barely touched his.
“So… might one enquire as to what business brings you here?”
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
Itaskai opened his briefcase and produced a sheaf of papers.
“We have received complaints of a festival being held here, for which we had not received any notification of. At this festival, consumable goods were on sale, without a licence or permit. There were also activities that involved gambling, again without a permit.”
Paul leafed though the papers, noticing that they were all properly stamped with name seals, from the officer who took the complaint on up to the mayor himself… but the box for the name of the person making the complaint was blank.
“I see… forgive me, I am a stranger here, but I was under the impression that a temple did not need permission from the local mayor to hold a festival or take donations.”
“Hmph! Although this is a temple, you are NOT a priest. You have no authority to lead religious festivals, as such it was a purely secular matter… and as for the ‘donations’...”
Paul held up a hand, silencing the man, and produced his phone from a pocket. He opened the picture app and finding the image he wanted, zoomed in on the cash box.
Turning the phone around he slid it across the table.
“As you can clearly see, it states here on the sign that these ‘payments’ you mentioned are donations to the temple fund, and are purely voluntary. I can pull up other images if you like, but they are all variations on that one. The ‘gambling’ you mentioned was a raffle for prizes, purchase of the tickets also going to the temple fund. I’m not sure who made this complaint, but I suspect the intent was malicious.”
“That does not negate the lack of permits!”
“Agreed, it would, if I had been the one holding it. But I just leant my culinary skills to it.”
“Well, who did organise the festival?”
Paul thought furiously. The truth was, the officious pipsqueak had him dead to rights. He had been the one behind it. Judging by his smirk, Itaskai knew it too. It was probably common knowledge that the temple lacked a priest to lend their countenance to the festival. He somehow doubted that they’d accept Shoko as holding any kind of authority either.
As if in answer to his unspoken prayer, Paul noticed a red and white robed figure gliding along the path towards the guest house, her knee-length blue-black hair swaying behind her, shimmering in the sunlight like oiled ebony.
Paul blinked, the robes he recognised as being those of a Miko, a Shinto priestess, but the person wearing them was unfamiliar… until she grew closer. Even with her facial features more rounded and human looking, her hair blue/black and her old-honey-gold eyes now a deep shade of jade green, Paul recognised Inari.
Suppressing a grin, Paul indicated in her direction.
“Ah, and here we have the person behind the festival.”
All three turned and looked, as Inari bowed.
“Gentlemen, allow me to introduce the temple’s new Miko.”
The two police officers jumped to their feet and returned Inari’s bow, Itaskai only fractionally behind them. Paul gave him a point for recovering from what was clearly an unexpected surprise quite smartly.
“Ah, forgive me. Word of your arrival had not reached us.”
Inari’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, as she answered.
“Is that not how it should be? That one should arrive unremarked and without ceremony, as is appropriate for a person of this one’s status?”
“Ah, quite. Forgive me Lady…?”
Paul grinned like a shark who knew where the beach party was.
“The Lady Machiko only arrived from Kyoto the morning of the festival, although we had been in correspondence prior. When I learned of my inheritance, I contacted the Fushimi Inari-taisha shrine, and asked if a suitable priest or priestess could be found, as the temple lacked one. I believe they put word out through their network and Lady Machiko whose family is from this prefecture originally, volunteered. I hope that explains any irregularities, Itaskai-san.”
“Ah… I see… yes.”
“So, you can see then that all is in order, yes?”
“Indeed Holmes-sama… it seems to be so.”
Itaskai sounded faintly disappointed. Paul smiled slightly at the crestfallen government man.
“Well, then, I’m sure you gentlemen have much more important things to attend to, than what was a nuisance complaint, falsely made by some malicious individual.”
“Indeed… that is a matter we shall look into.”
“Very well, forgive me a moment, while I find a copy of my book for your wife Itaskai-san.”
“Thank you very much.”
Paul disappeared into the guest house. Digging into the closet where he’d dumped his things that weren’t immediately needed, he unearthed an author’s copy of ‘Judge Stevens and a Murder Most Perplexing.’ Scribbling his name on the inside title page, he then stamped his name seal or Hanko, next to it.
In Japan one didn’t sign documents, everyone had their own name seal, informal ones, formal ones and unique ones registered officially and used for things like buying cars, or houses. Paul’s official name seal, the same one that appeared on the title deeds to the temple and now this book, was something of a pun. Chīsanaka meant, literally, small houses, or homes and was a transliterative pun of his name. It was also, now that he thought about it, one of the euphemistic names for a roadside shrine.
As an author his fan base wasn’t by any means large, but they made up for it in fervour, if not always sales figures. As such he’d long since made a habit of having at least a couple of copies of his latest book handy to give away. It was surprising how well that served to grease the gears of the social machinery at times. Plus he genuinely got a kick from seeing the glee on people’s faces. He had so much fun writing the things, it tickled him to share that with other people.
Returning to the veranda, he noticed that Itaskai looked rather unnerved, and the two policemen appeared to be somewhat perplexed. Inari on the other hand, looked as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, her air of demure saintliness quite at odds with what he’d seen of her so far.
Presenting the book to the grey-suited man, who bowed deeply, he resolved to ask Inari what they’d been talking about in those few minutes he’d been absent. Later… probably much later.
Once the trio of officialdom had been seen off the premises, Paul walked back to where Inari was seated kneeling. He had an abstracted thoughtful expression as he quietly remarked.
“Is it just me, or did that feel like the opening salvo?”
“It did, yes.”
“Thank you for turning up Inari-sama… that was a well timed bit of improvisation.”
“Paul-san, very little happens here that I am unaware of… and I have been playing this game far longer than you.”
“Point taken. Still, handy that you could make normal people see you like that. Clever illusion.”
Inari blushed slightly.
“Ahhh… it’s not an illusion. This is a real, solid living human body I am wearing.”
Paul blinked, trying to process that.
“Okayyy... how? Not many bodies lying around here, and won’t the original inhabitant miss it?”
Inari shook her head.
“Oh, no. Emiko died over a century ago!”
Paul raised an eyebrow.
“Looking good for a zombie then.”
“Oh no! No! I recreated her body from a scrap of her hair and her bones. I’m alive, not a walking corpse, but it houses my soul, not hers.”
Paul stared at her…
“You.. resurrected her? Inari, can you do that for anyone?”
Inari opened her mouth, then went pale. She shook her head, rapidly speaking.
“Oh! Oh no, I am so, so sorry Paul-san. I could not bring your wife back. Even if I was to return her body to life, there is nothing I could do for her soul, and a body empty of it’s spirit is… not good. Something would move in… usually nothing good.”
Inari’s words tumbled out as she hastened to explain and apologise. Paul shook his head.
“Yeah, I guessed that already, I suppose. I just.. hoped. But honestly, the ‘empty corpse’ thing is such a common enough trope in fiction, that it had to have a grain of truth to it. No, I was actually thinking more of Aimi-chan. If we could find her body, we have her spirit already.”
Inari looked thoughtful, and slowly nodded.
“Maybe… but it would require more magic than I have available. Reuniting her spirit with her body and resurrecting her would be difficult, but not impossible. But she would not stay alive for long. No more than a day or three at most. The difficulty lies in the fact her spirit is dead, it’s connection to the flow of chi through the universe is cut. It would take a vast amount of magic to sustain her life, or reconnect it so she would sustain herself. Far more than I can command now.”
Paul sighed…nodding slowly.
“I suspected as much. Well, at least it’s possible. But not a strong possibility. Probably best not to mention it to her just yet. We’d have to find a scrap of her body first too. Still it’s a bit creepy though. I mean, what happens when you, ah.. step outside? Does your body die?”
Inari shook her head.
“No, I can place it in a trance state and use magic to sustain it. It wouldn’t take much. As long as it’s for no longer than a moon, it’s not a problem. But I thought… perhaps it would be more convenient to be around, like this. I can leave the temple grounds for as long as I need to this way.”
Paul regarded her thoughtfully.
“Ok… that could come in useful I grant.”
“My thoughts too!”
“But ethically, isn’t it a bit dubious? I mean, it’s sort of grave robbing?”
Inari, Emiko, or Machiko… or however you thought of it, shook her head.
“Oh no! I used to borrow Emiko’s body all the time, to talk to those that couldn’t see me as you do, or just... to be human, for awhile. I used to go abroad, incognito, like this. She said when she was dying, that should I ever need to, I should not hesitate to do so again. The need hasn’t arisen until now.”
Paul considered her for a bit, then nodded slowly.
“Ok, well, I suppose it’s no different from borrowing someone’s car with their permission, or deeding it to someone if you have no further use for it. You can take it for a spin when you need to, and park it somewhere and go back to being a goddess.”
Inari nodded.
“Something like that… and if you fail, then I can live out my days as a human, a long lived one as I recall. Also, it makes it easier to interact with the world. It seems much has changed and I would like to see the world before I… before… anyway.”
Paul nodded.
“Yeahhh… that’s looking like it might be necessary. We’ll have to make sure you have the appropriate documentation somehow, so that you legally exist.”
“Yes. That said… the name you came up with, Machiko? ‘Truth & wisdom’, really Paul-san?”
“What…? It’s an appropriate name isn’t it?”
“And if that man writes to the temple at Kyoto?”
“They’ll find out I did apply to the temple, and that they politely turned me down, suggesting I contact other temples individually and see if there was anyone willing to volunteer. Good luck to him, or whoever’s pulling his strings, trying to find out whether or not I did… not that I did. I decided to wait until I got here as the postage would be ruinous otherwise. But it’s all plausible. You could’ve come from some tiny rural shrine so far out in the middle of nowhere, that it makes this place seem glamorous. Hmm, maybe the middle daughter of a large family, hence wanting to strike out on your own perhaps...”
“Indeed, one can tell you are a storyteller, Paul-san. You are a Master at your craft.”
“Competent journeyman at best Inari, but it’s enough to earn a living. Still… we’re going to have more trouble from that direction, I’ll bet. I suppose I’d best see what can be done, starting with investigating the mine. Not much point to any of the rest of it, if that can’t be dealt with. Where’s Shoko-san? I was hoping she’d at least be able to show me where the entrance is.”
“I set her to clearing away the path and entrance just a short while ago.”
Paul frowned slightly.
“Is that safe, for her alone? You said there were things down there.”
“Things that have never been known to emerge during daylight, and do not stray far even then.”
Paul looked sideways at Inari, staring, as she was looking more herself even with the miko robes on. For a moment it was like the image of her from before, was overlaying her present form.
Paul shook his head, wondering if it was possible to have double vision of the Sight.
“Hmm, sounds less like fearsome demons and more like refugees sheltering where they won’t be found.”
“Those are not mutually exclusive, even a mouse when cornered will fight.”
“Point. I suppose I’d better take a weapon, reluctant as I am to do so. If you bring a weapon with you, you’re clearly expecting to fight… and that sometimes becomes a self-fulfilling prophesy.”
“But you can’t go unarmed, Paul-san!”
“Agreed. I wish I’d bought my old walking staff with me, but it wouldn’t fit on the plane. Six foot of bog oak is a useful weapon in the right hands. My current one is ok, but it’s just pinewood. It’ll snap in a fight.”
Inari brightened.
“I have a better staff I can give you Paul-san! Wait one moment!”
Before he could say anything, she jumped to her feet, slipped her getas on, and ran clattering up the middle of the stone pathway. Leaving Paul wondering if a mercurial temperament was innate to all kitsune, or just something Shoko had learnt from Inari.
Inari hurried back, carrying what looked to be a staff made of some dark coloured wood, bound in brass nailed on at regular intervals, and with solid bronze end-caps. Inari came to a halt, standing in front of where he knelt, and offered it to him balanced on her palms.
“That’s not some holy relic or temple treasure is it?”
“No Paul-san. It’s just a staff, made of bronze, brass and iron wood. It’s old, but then so are most things here. It’s been lying around at the back of the shrine for years, I think it belonged to one of the monks or a temple guardian years ago.”
Paul hesitated, and then took it from her hands. It was surprisingly heavy for it’s size, even though it was a good length, almost head high on him. Stepping out onto the green, he tried a few practice swings with it, and then a longer series of parrying moves. Inari watched, evidently surprised.
“You... you did not say you were a warrior too Paul-san!”
“I’m not. I learned staff fighting, or the English quarter-staff version, for a book I was writing set in medieval times. But it came in handy when travelling as well. A walking staff isn’t an uncommon thing to carry, and seldom questioned even in countries with stringent weapons laws. It just doesn’t look like a weapon. Besides, then you also have a staff to lean on.”
Inari nodded.
“Much the same reasons wandering priests carried them, then.”
Paul grinned and nodded.
“Well goddess, now you’ve equipped your champion, I’d best be off to slay monsters in yon dungeon!”
Inari looked puzzled at him.
“Paul-san, ‘slay monsters’? That’s.. not how you usually deal with them? And it’s a mine, not a dungeon.”
Paul sighed.
“Ok.. that joke fell flat… never mind. You know, there’s a lot of culture you need to catch up on... later. Meanwhile lead on, oh wise and beautiful goddess.”
Inari blushed, and giggled behind her hand, but led Paul away.