When Gintaro opened his eyes again, it was to a different kind of brightness. Only the verdant leaves overhead shielded him from the marvelous sun beyond. He was lying on a bed of soft grass, and he could hear the gentle splash of a waterfall to his right. He turned his head, and there he saw a small natural pool, not much larger than he was, with a thin stream of water splashing down into it. There were several ancient, stone-carven figures along the rocky wall of the waterfall, which were partially covered with iridescent moss. At the edge of the pool nearest to him, there were several circular water lilies, and upon one perched a glittering purple dragonfly.
“Am I dead?” he wondered to himself, taking in the idyllic atmosphere. “Is this paradise?” He expected to be dead after the whole ordeal that remained on the border of his memories, yet he wondered how he made it to paradise, living as he had. He had not been a good man and deserved no final peace. He thought himself bound for hell or at least oblivion. Yet, for being such an otherworldly scene, it still had a vaguely familiar feeling about it. It was not as strange as he expected the real heaven to be.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” a nearby voice said as if reading his thoughts. It was a sweet voice, serene and wise. “I had a feeling that you would return to us soon.”
Gin attempted to lift himself to identify the voice, but a sharp pain in his abdomen and a spasm down his back stopped him from doing so. He could see that his chest was exposed, and his waist was wrapped with white linens. They were partially stained with crimson blood. At once, his memories returned, and his mind was overwhelmed with horrible images and feelings of terror.
“Take this,” the voice insisted. “This pool is said to have healing properties, and it has aided your recovery thus far.”
An earthenware cup was placed into his hands, and inside there was cool water, which had a fresh, vegetal smell. He took it all down quickly, for his throat was dry, and it seemed to immediately satisfy him and calm his wild thoughts.
“Please do not strain yourself,” the gentle voice insisted. A hand rested upon his back and helped him to sit up. “Slowly now.”
Once sitting, he could then more clearly see who was speaking to him. When he looked upon her, all his anxieties began to fade away, like a mist at the coming of dawn. He saw the hale face of an elderly woman, with her eyes closed and a peaceful smile, much like a mother contemplating her children.
“There, there,” she said, with a slight bow. She was kneeling beside him, in an old robe with its sleeves pulled back so that her forearms were exposed. Her grey hair, streaked with white, was tied up into a bun on her head. She was quite thin, and her skin was like paper that had been folded too many times. Yet despite all these outward signs of age, he could sense an energy within her, an uncommon vigor and great depth of mind.
“Do you know who I am?” she asked. There was a shimmer in her aged eyes. “We have met before, though I am not sure you remember, for it was a long time ago.”
Gin studied the lines of her face for a few moments and then responded. “You must be the Truist Sage.”
Her smile grew and her eyes brightened. “So, you do remember! And I remember you, Gintaro-san. When last we met you were just a boy, and your master had come to consecrate your swords. It has been quite a few years since then. Even still, welcome home.”
Gin bowed his head but felt uneasy. “Where am I?” he asked. “Where are my companions? The Ten...”
“Now, now. You undoubtedly have many questions. But you must not exert yourself. We managed to pull you back from the brink of death, for the wounds from such an unearthly foe are not easily mended. But here you are, for the All-kami has not finished with you yet. Everything will be explained in due time.”
“Please, I need to know now,” he insisted, though his concentration was waning. “What happened to my companions?”
The Sage forced a smile, but it was apparent that she was hesitant. “Very well,” she conceded at last. “But I will make it as brief as I can, for you must rest. You are now within the power of the Order of Truists. We are what is left of all the Truist Sects and have gathered here for safety and preservation. We are now dwelling near a place once known as Iwagawa, which has long been abandoned. You and your companions are safe, for the time being. The yomi that hunted you has been repulsed, and it will not harm you again.”
Gintaro exhaled and felt as though a giant weight had been lifted from him. “I was certain that we were all doomed,” he said at last.
“Certain is such an interesting word,” the Sage said with a knowing smile. “It's often applied so certainly. But we can quibble about such things at a later time. For now, if you want to make yourself well, you must rest.”
He wanted to object, but a great wave of fatigue and weariness had crested once again and was about to wash over him. Gin lowered himself back down with the help of the old woman, closed his eyes, and relaxed into a blissful sleep.
He arose later that same day. This time the sun was beginning to fall in the sky. Unlike the morning, he awoke with energy and a clear head. He gingerly made to sit up, but this time he was helped by much stronger arms.
“Saru? Is that you?” he said, as the outline of her face became clearer to him.
She nodded. “They told me you came around this morning. I’ve been waiting here ever since.” She said this with such simple candor that it produced a faint smile on even Gin’s grim countenance. The warmth from her arms felt like the sun peeking through the clouds on a winter day.
“Thank you,” he said, staring into her eyes.
“Speak no such…”
“No,” he interrupted her. “You saved me back there. You came back.” There were several moments of hesitation, as both listened to the tranquil splash of the slender waterfall behind them. Gin thought her so beautiful at that moment, as her bronze skin took in the fading sunlight and her dark, full eyes sparkled with tears.
“You would have done the same for me,” she said at last, turning aside. “Besides, now our score is even.”
Gin chuckled, though it pained him to do so. “I suppose you are right. We are even.”
There was another long pause, as they both considered what to say without spoiling the moment.
“You had us all worried,” Saru said suddenly, her voice becoming stern. “You were burning up at first and then you went cold for days upon days. They did not think you would come back, but the Sage had a feeling you would pull through. She put you here, and after that, you seemed to get better.”
“Days upon days? How long have I been lying here?”
“Almost two weeks...” Saru answered. There was a hint of reluctance in her voice.
“Yuki!” he exclaimed, and then immediately moved to stand. He was unbalanced and weak, and the pain tore at his abdomen so that he stumbled.
“Easy! Easy!” scolded Saru, catching hold of him. “You shouldn’t rush it!”
“My daughter! She’s been…two weeks! I must get up!”
With Saru’s help, he crawled to his hands and knees and then pushed himself up. He remained standing but felt lightheaded and wobbly. “I can move,” he grunted, drawing great breaths. “But thank you, Saru-san.”
“You’re just as stubborn as I am,” she said with a smirk. “I figured you would want to get up and around. But if you feel sick, you need to rest. It’s no use going after your daughter if you can’t hold it together.”
He nodded, and together, with Saru half supporting him as they walked, they moved away from the tranquil pond and up a shallow embankment that led into a forest of bamboo and tall maples. After several minutes, they came at last into the camp of the Truists. This place was well shaded and thus darker, for the trees expanded above them creating a thick canopy overhead. He was surprised, for he imagined the dwelling place of the Truists to be just as serene as any of the many temples he had seen. In reality, it was more like a great military encampment. There were hundreds of simple tents set up in sharp rows among the brush of the dense forest. Lean men and women with shaved heads, strode about on various tasks, some sharpening spears and polishing bows, others tending to the fires or chanting sutras. Clotheslines hung with the ubiquitous grey-colored robes that most Truists wore. Large black kettles had already been set to boil the evening meal.
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As Gintaro and Saru approached, those who were nearby turned to look at them, and each wore an expression of surprise and fascination. Whispers turned into a low hum, and as the minutes passed, more of the Holy See began to congregate to catch a glimpse of the two outsiders.
“What is going on?” Gin whispered, looking about at their inquiring faces.
“They think we are cursed,” Saru replied, “For having encountered the Tengu. I’ll tell you, these people make me feel both uneasy and at the same time completely safe. They are fastidious, wary, and reserved. I’ve gotten many stares, but no one other than the Sage has dared to speak with me.”
Suddenly, two tall monks holding long spears emerged from the throng. They wore crimson sashes across their chests, differentiating them from the regular clergy.
“You are both summoned to the temple. We will guide you there,” one said in a deep, hearty voice.
The monks then proceeded to lead them into the heart of the camp. Gin was amazed by the sheer size of it, as tents stretched far in all directions, indicating that there were perhaps thousands of Truists dwelling under the eaves, more than he had imagined. It was quite a feat that they had not been discovered by outlaws or by others.
After some time, the ground began to rise, as they approached the center of the camp. Here the tents were larger and more elaborate, and the yellow standard of the Truists, with its symbol of one eye open and one eye closed, was erected at the front of each.
In the very center, upon a small hill, sat an ancient temple, well-worn from years of disuse. Much of it was covered in a thick layer of moss, and from a distance, it seemed more like a stump of a great tree than a building. The steps leading up to it were also moss-covered and laid in ruin, but the hill was not so steep so that it could not be easily climbed. The hill itself was covered in bright green grass and dotted with yellow wildflowers. Upon the summit of the hill, and there alone, was a break in the canopy above so that the fading sunlight fell and rested upon the temple’s aged roof, half of which had collapsed many years ago. The two companions marveled at this great temple which appeared as if it had been built in an age long forgotten, out of the very depths of time.
It indeed was ancient, being constructed in the time of the early Emperors. Iwagawa-ji, as it was called, was one of the first temples founded by the Emperors after their victory over the evil that claimed those lands. In those days, Iwagawa thrived as a flourishing township, but all evidence of that place had faded from memory, leaving only the temple behind. Now, it was the last refuge for the surviving Truist leaders and a place to hold important ceremonies and rites that required such a building. It was too small and old to fit all those who were encamped about it. Thus, the majority of the Truists were forced to sit on the hill and grass below, straining their ears to hear from their leaders whenever a proclamation was given. Since it was a holy place and a remnant of the age where Truism prospered in the lands, it distinguished itself as a beacon in the midst of uncertain times. Gintaro had seen many temples in his lifetime, but none had stirred something within him like the sight of this one, though he could not quite place why.
The Sage emerged from the temple to greet them, stopping just beyond the threshold. With a wave of her hand the crowd that had followed them to the temple dispersed, and the guards, having completed their task, bowed stiffly, and returned down the hill.
“So, I see that you are feeling better,” the Sage observed, leaning on a crooked walking stick with a knowing smirk. “It’s always a wonder what the touch of a young lady can do to raise a man’s spirits.”
Gin flushed red and quickly bowed. “Thank you for healing me,” he said hastily. “I am in your debt.”
The Sage smiled warmly. “In the end, the All-kami is the one who heals. I was merely his instrument this time. The healers around here have never seen such evil wounds, and honestly, neither have I.”
“Then how did you know how to save him?” Saru asked.
The Sage slowly lifted her eyes towards the sky. “I did not, but my kami remembered the Springs of Iwagawa, and reminded me of its potency in healing evil wounds.”
At this, Saru looked frightened, but Gin wore a look of understanding. He turned aside to his companion and explained, “The Sage is one who has the ability to see and communicate with the kami. Kami are beings that have dwelt here since the Primordial Age. Unlike their evil brethren, the yomi, they are far less numerous, and they are invisible to most humans. Even if you could see them, most do not wish to speak with us, for they fear us. But some people can recruit them to their aid, and Sage is the title for one who can.”
Saru looked back at the Sage with renewed reverence. “You can truly speak with the kami?”
The Sage smiled once again. “Some, yes. They are interesting beings, one could even call them interesting folk, and for the most part, their minds have little concern with human beings or our affairs. They care more about the sky and earth, river and wood, stars, and the passage of time. But some do have a mind for us, for we all fall under the All-kami’s will. Those that do, I can speak with. The kami whom I am most well acquainted with reminded me of the sacred pool near this place, an ancient fount known for being a place of healing. It worked quite well in dispelling the evil from your wounds. The rest, our healers could manage.”
Saru was astounded, and it showed clearly on her face. “There really are kami out there, like the ones I’ve heard in stories?”
“You’ve heard stories of the yomi, haven’t you?” the Sage quipped back. “And you came dangerously close to one of those. Why should it be so hard to believe in the other half of the coin? Like with the surface of water, there is a world above and below the line that separates them.”
“Could...could you help me see one?” Saru ventured, unable to contain her childlike curiosity.
A pained expression crossed the Sage’s face. “Would that I could. But you could not see a kami if it were standing right beside you. And I cannot show you one, for you do not have my eyes and I cannot give them to you.”
Embarrassed, Saru’s face reddened, and she cast her head down towards the ground.
Gin decided to change the topic of conversation for Saru’s sake. “What of the young initiate we traveled with, the boy called Nō? He said that he carried an urgent message. Was he able to deliver it on time?”
At this, the old Sage grimaced, as if pained by the remembrance. “He is well, back among the other initiates I presume. He gave us the news, but we could have used it much earlier, I tell you. It was grave news. Grave news indeed. However, I am not permitted to speak of it here. Which reminds me, you should come along inside. Your trials are set to begin presently, so I hope you are ready to properly defend yourself.”
“Trials?” asked Gin, bewildered.
The Sage shot him a puzzled look. “Has no one told you? They are trying you here for desertion. And you, Saru-san, for trespassing without leave.”
Gin looked over at Saru who shook her head, indicating that this was news to her.
“If you managed to survive, Gintaro, which you did, the elders said they would begin the trials at that time. I am sure word has already spread of your recovery, so they will get along to it at this evening’s gathering,” the Sage explained.
“Desertion?” he murmured, still quite befuddled.
“You wield the consecrated swords of a Truist Kaijin, do you not? And you,” she said, turning towards Saru. “Discovering our whereabouts is a crime, even if you had no choice in the matter. It's supposed to be a secret after all. You may not take such things seriously, but these old men do indeed.” Her expression then relaxed, and she gazed at them both with a blissful smile. “But listen to me, try not to worry. I will do my best to ease your punishment. You might have to suffer through a few lashes, but it’ll be much easier than that terrible ordeal you just went through.”
“Punishment?” Gin repeated.
“Lashes?” Saru gasped.
“Come along,” insisted the Sage, seeming ambivalent to their worries. “The elders will be here soon, and you should come inside and eat before we begin. Gintaro, it has been days since you have had a decent meal, and you must be starving!”
Gin, without the mental fortitude to argue, went along with the Sage and entered the half-covered temple, followed closely by Saru who was still visibly upset by the news. There, they saw that the floor was made of grass and dirt that had been covered by long rolls of fresh bamboo matting. In the very center of the room was a long, low wooden table that was obviously also brought in, for it appeared quite new, polished with a dark lacquer. Gin sat down near the middle of the table, and a few servants brought out food for him and his companion. The food was far from ordinary, but it was, as Nō had once said, a good table. They ate plenty of cooked roots and wild plants, rice mixed with mushrooms, and other various colorful vegetables. The mainstay was tofu, marinated with a savory sauce, and complemented with a big steaming bowl of soup of sliced bamboo shoots in miso.
He ate ravenously, for he had not realized how hungry he was until that very moment. It had indeed been days since he had a proper meal, so although he was quite hungry, his stomach filled quickly.
The Sage had left them, for she intended to greet the Truist elders, who would gradually be arriving. By the time they had finished their meals, and the servants had cleared and reset the table with cups for tea, the elders finally began to arrive and proceeded into the temple with an air of solemnity. Both Gin and Saru rose to bow to each one, as they knew they were now in the power of these wizened men. Most of them were old and withered, heaped in robes that seemed to weigh them down so that they could only shuffle on ahead.
The room began to fill, but despite an increase in the number of faces, there was nothing said among them. They moved with formal ceremony, as if every step and even every breath was preordained. They knelt, one by one, starting from the outside of the table and working their way in. Some were tall, some short, others were fat, and a few were thin and bent like knotted branches of a gnarled tree. Some had hair, some were bald, and others wore wispy white beards. Yet all were leaders of a tradition as old as the Emperors and were supposedly wise in lore.
When all the elders had arrived, the Sage proceeded in next, and after taking her ceremonial walk around the table, she knelt next to the two accused at the very center. Several of the younger Truists entered last, but they knelt along the periphery, away from the table. One of these was Nō, who shot Gin with a look of relief mingled with guilt. He had obviously not thought that they would face punishment when he asked for their aid.
When all were seated, and the room was utterly devoid of sound, the crisp voice of the Sage rose and filled the hall. “Shall we begin?”