She had red hair, like the fox, that flowed down to her hips and had spread in her fall around her like a flower. Her face looked soft, thin eyebrows and round traits, the way I would imagine a princess from the old tales. There were trails of blood – my blood – running down from her mouth, but even that looked beautiful. I sighed in relief when I saw her fine breasts moving slowly up and down. My eyes slid down to her hands, one laid over her stomach and the other on her side, like in the middle of some graceful dance. How delicate her fingers looked, I thought, as I imagined how soft her touch must be. Then I noticed the bulge on her stomach. She was pregnant.

“Shit,” I said, as I fell to my knees and put my ear against her.

After a frightening few seconds I heard something move.

I sat back up, and against all reason I began laughing. I felt relieved that she and her child were alive, but this was all so absurd. This day had felt like I had awoken into a dream. I could not stop laughing, to the point of tears.

“Oh why, what, how?” I asked the darkened skies, which remained hopelessly silent.

And I laughed so hard that my stomach started hurting, so hard that I no longer recognised my own voice. In spite of the darkness, I saw that some of my blood had dropped onto the woman’s stomach. I tried to wipe it away, but I only made it worse, leaving a dark red smudge on her pale skin.

I chuckled again, and cleaned the tears off my face. It was getting dark and cold again, so I took off my thick fur coat and wrapped her tightly in it. She had been starving, it seemed, as I felt her bones roll under her skin, and she felt light as I picked her up to bring her inside.

I had not been there in a full day now, and everything was exactly how I had left it. A cold fireplace in one corner and a pile of furs in another, a small shelf with an assortment of seasonings, tools and trinkets. A wooden plate and its spoon laid by the fire, tucked inside an old cauldron.

I nestled the woman into the furs and covered her with another layer for warmth. After a moment of reflection, I bound her ankles and wrists with linen ropes. If my eyes had not deceived me, she had the ability to change into a fox, so I sided with caution. She did not seem dangerous now, though. There was a clay bottle of plum liquor on my shelf that had been there for ages. I cracked the seal open – drank some of it – and poured some on my neck before wrapping it in cloth. It was sweet and warmed to my core, but the burn was painful. I could almost feel the individual tooth marks that she had left. Had she bitten me slightly higher, I may have bled to death.

I struck a spark with my flint and steel, lighting some tinder and branches in the fireplace. I then hooked the cauldron over it, went outside to grab a few handfuls of snow, fetch my bow, and some deer meat from the shed. I threw it all together with a spoonful of miso, a handful of rice and a splash of plum liquor. It had started to simmer when the pile of furs moved slightly. I spotted a pair of shiny, amber colored eyes spying at me.

“Your child is alright, I think. I can take you to the doctor tomorrow.”

Not a sound from her.

“I figured you might be hungry,” I added, while stirring the pot.

No response, no movement.

“Where are your eight other tails?” I asked.

Nothing.

“You are a nine-tailed fox, are you not? I heard some folktales about your lot… you trick, you bewitch, you turn into beautiful women to seduce men to their doom. Never heard anything about them sneaking into sheds to steal meat though.”

Still, two amber eyes.

I left the pot to simmer away and sat down on the ground in front of the pile of furs.

“So what are you?” I asked. “Either you were always on Umeshima, secretly, and saw an opportunity for some easy feast, or you got lost here somehow. Did you come in with the traders today?”

She blinked once, and nothing else. I leaned in closer, trying to get a better look at her face, but she did not budge. She stared me down without quivering, without anger or animosity. Was it curiosity?

“What is your name?” I asked again.

Once again, she gave no answer.

“Fine,” I sighed, “but I’m not taking these binds off you until I know you won’t try to chew through my throat again. Wait, you don’t have rabies, do you?”

She remained silent, and I returned to my pot of deer stew. We sat in silence for almost an hour while I stirred and it bubbled away. Near the end, I threw in a handful of rock salt and laddled the mix into the single bowl that I owned.

It tasted delicious, deeply flavourful and warm. Finally, she moved, sitting up slightly at the sight of food. I moved to sit in front of her again, but she recoiled when I raised my hand. She was still staring into my eyes intensely, but allowed me to slowly remove the furs from over her, revealing her face. Her thin lips were closed tightly, without a sign of emotion. I had never seen eyes like her’s, colored like bronze and honey.

“Do you want it or not?” I asked, raising a spoonful of stew towards her.

“Come on, you know it smells good,” I added with a smile.

After a long few seconds she opened her mouth ever so slightly and moved her head towards me. I brought my spoon closer to her, and she slowly, hesitantly, ate from it. She was still staring directly at me but her eyes widened.

“Yeah, good isn’t it?” I said, trying to pull a laugh out of her.

She swallowed quickly and her eyes quickly shifted to the bowl of stew.

“If you want another bite you’ll have to start giving some answers, what's your name?”

She took another long look at me and cleared her throat.

“Him… – Himiko” she whispered out slowly, in a dry and raspy voice.

“Himiko,” I repeated. That name sounded familiar. “What are you doing on Umeshima, Himiko?”

“Escaped,” she whispered, her voice still hoarse and raspy. “Hiding.”

“From who?” I asked.

I noticed that she was still eyeing the soup, so I fed her another spoonful. She chewed and swallowed it so quickly it looked like she had not eaten in days.

“Who are you hiding from?” I asked again.

She thought for a moment, her head tilting slightly to the side, foxlike.

“Kuma,” she said slowly, her eyes fixated on me. “Shinsuke Kuma.”

“What sort of bear is that?” I asked, tilting my head to match her posture.

“You do not know of the house of Kuma?” she asked, her delicate eyebrows curling up.

“We don’t know much about what happens on the mainland here,” I explained. “If you’re trying to hide, there’s nowhere safer.”

I fed her another spoon. She was deep in thought, staring emptily into the fire.

“Who do you think rules Yamatai?” she asked, suddenly.

The question surprised me. I had never really thought of that; the concerns of the mainland had never reached us. The traders would tell our distillers, but I had never bothered to learn anything about Yamatai. It all sounded so complicated, compared to our simple lives, all so big and mighty. I tried to remember, closing my eyes. Who did rule Yamatai?

I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came to me.

“What year is it?” she asked again.

“I’m… not sure, we don’t really keep track of it here – just who are you?”

I felt frustrated by all her questions and the words had come out harsher than I intended.

Her face tensed up slightly, her eyes harshened and her jaw tightened.

“My name is Himiko, priestess of Inari, twelve generations descended from the God-Empress Amaterasu, nine generations descended from the shaman-queen Himiko.”

That is why her name sounded familiar, some ancient queen from the folktales.

“So you’re a princess then?” I asked.

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“I’m a priestess,” she said. “You will treat me with the respect that I am due, matagi.”

“What did you call me?” I asked, unsure of if I should feel insulted or not.

“You are a matagi, are you not? An Ainu? Your forearms are tattooed with threads, your higher lip marked with a single dot.”

I looked down to my arms, and indeed they were covered in black lines, interlocking like chainmail. I had not seen them before, I had no memory of every being tattooed.

My head was beginning to hurt. I took a step back away from her, holding my temple. I pulled out my knife and held it in front of me like a mirror. Like she said, there was a single black dot between my higher lip and my nose.

“What the hell is an Ainu… how did I not see…”

I felt paint through my eyes and ears, like my mind was being ripped apart. I could not hold a grunt of pain, striking the ground with fist as I curled down over my knees.

“What are you doing to me…” I managed to say through gritted teeth.

I felt her hand against my cheek, refreshing, warm, soft, firm and gentle. The pain slowly faded away.

“What is your name,” Himiko asked, softly.

She was sitting on both knees in front of me, still wrapped in furs but with her binds undone behind her. I looked up into her eyes and saw the slightest hint of concern in her gaze.

“I am Akira,” I said, my voice still shaking. “How did you… the ropes…”

“It seems I have much to tell you, Akira-kun,” she said in a whisper.

I stumbled up to my feet and backed up against the wall. I held the knife between us, but my hand was shaking.

“What do you want, really, why are you here?” I tried to appear confident, but I had to hold myself against the wall to stay up.

“I did not lie, Akira.”

“Are you here to hurt me, to hurt Himura?”

She stayed silent for a few seconds, tilting her head to the side again.

“Will you protect me?” she finally asked, her eyes piercing into mine.

“I will,” I answered without hesitation, letting my weapon drop to my side.

She was telling the truth, for some reason I was convinced of it. Whatever she was running from, whatever wished to harm her, I would hide her here, on Umeshima. I was unsure of why, but I knew deep down that she was kind.

“Then I shall stay,” she said, standing up as well. “And you will learn everything about our world, which you seem to have forgotten.”

“Forgotten? I didn’t forget anything.”

“Open your mouth.”

“What?”

She stepped forward, holding the furs with one hand, and in a movement so fast that I barely perceived it, took my jaw with the other. She opened my mouth with one finger on my lip, and lowered her head to look inside. Now that she was standing right before me I realized that was slightly taller than me in spite of her fragile frame.

“Good,” she said, seemingly content. “We will begin tomorrow.”

“Are all my teeth still there?” I asked, touching my jaw at the same spot she did.

“Yes, and a satisfying lack of eyes.”

“I’m sorry, eyes???”

“Yes,” she said in a neutral, everyday-like tone. “You have much to remember.”

She sat down in the nest of furs again, this time taking the bowl of stew with her.

“Tell me about Himura, this village of yours,” she said, before taking a spoonful of meat. “Will they report my presence?”

I returned to my spot by the fire and stirred the pot to prevent it from burning.

“They won’t. We’re not used to strangers, but if I stand by you they will too.”

She hummed in acknowledgement.

“I suspect they may be under the same spell as you.”

“What spell??” I asked, exasperated by the lack of answers.

She took a pause, as if piecing her thoughts together.

“The way your head started hurting when you finally noticed your own tattoos, I’ve seen it before. Your memory has been tampered with, your mind itself has been altered.”

“I–”

“No,” she said sternly, holding her open palm out. “Do not dwell on it, do not try to remember now or I fear your mind may break altogether. We will work at it slowly, you will remember, and I will teach you what you lack.”

I acquiesced slowly, trying to make it all make sense. So there were spells now.

She passed the bowl back to me.

“Himura, why is it arranged like that?” she asked, still chewing on a piece of deer.

“Like a circle? It was built around the Verdant Stone, our shrine to Hanagami.”

“Hanagami… I have never heard this name, your local deity?”

“Yes, he brings about the blossoms of spring.”

I took another bite of stew, and passed the bowl back to her.

“Your child,” I asked. “Is that why you are hiding?”

A heavy silence came upon me, as the hearth crackled. Without even looking up, while staring at the fire, I felt the sharpness of her eyes against me.

I had overstepped. I felt my throat tighten, I felt small. Her shadow grew over me, dancing on the walls of the hut as the heartfire raged harder, as if possessed. I felt her wrath, washing over me, and as I finally managed to look up at her I saw it in her eyes. I saw the fox again, ready to pounce for the kill.

Just as suddenly, I felt the tension in my neck release, as she sat up in a more regal position. I tried blurting out an apology, but before any sound came, she simply said: “Yes.”

“That Kuma fellow…”

“Shinsuke Kuma,” she cursed out, with such venom and contempt that I leaned back, fearing that her anger may burn me again. “The latest princeling of house Kuma, seventeenth son of Shogun Yoshimichi Kuma, snakes in human form, all of them.”

“It’s his, isn’t it?”

She said nothing, but nodded softly.

“Some sort of arranged marriage you managed to slip away from?” I asked.

“I was a priestess first, Akira,” she said softly, her voice quivering. “I was a shrine-maiden to Inari, I worshiped and I danced in their honor.”

She cleared her throat.

“He took me by the shrine. He had pretended to worship, he had pretended to be kind. And once he had his way he tried to ship me to his father’s castle in the North.”

A tear rolled down from her eye, and she wiped it away swiftly before it reached her chin.

“So you escaped… I’m sorry,” I said, bowing my head down in shame. “I should not have asked.”

She stayed silent, her empty gaze wandering into the hearth.

“I laid waste to their ship, and gunpowder was set ablaze. Drifting on a piece of flotsam, I washed up against the cliffs of one strange and isolated island hidden in the mists. As I wandered the forest, I found you…”

“And I looked tasty?” I asked, trying to alleviate the pain in her eyes.

“I’m sorry for your neck,” she said with a teary smile. “When one stays in animal form for too long, animal instincts take over. I will try to refrain from eating you from now on.”

She raised the bowl of stew, now empty, towards me.

“And thank you for the food. It is much better than a barrel of salted meat.”

I took it back and served myself another ladleful.

“My pleasure,”I said, before digging in.

She wrapped the furs tightly around herself and leaned back against the mud wall of the hut, hiding a yawn behind her wrist.

“I’ll get you some clothes tomorrow,” I added, looking away as she moved to lie down more comfortably.

She smiled softly.

“Thank you, Akira,” she said. “A roll of cloth will do, I shall make them myself.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. “It’s cold out there, do you not want a fur coat like mine?”

“I do not fear the cold,” she whispered, as she sunk slowly into the nest.

I shrugged. She knew better.

“Do not mention me, in the village. ‘Tis best that I first decrypt the magic that shrouds this island before anyone other than you sees me.”

“How do you intend to do that?” I asked. “I have no recollection of any magic, nor will anyone else.”

“How does one know that a tree has been felled in a barren forest, long before one was there to hear it fall?,” she asked in return, as she slowly sank into the blankets, her face completely covered.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“One finds the stump,” she whispered, slowly slipping away. “The dead roots, and the growth that they spurred…”

Himiko fell silent, and after a few minutes I heard only the slow rhythmic sound of her breath. I stayed for a while, dozing off at the sound of the crackling hearth. I caught myself nearing falling asleep, and took to the wooden bowl to wash it before it dried out. I made my way outside as silently as I could, closing the door slowly so as to not wake up the sleeping fox. The frigid night wind caught me by surprise and reinvigorated me. I felt alert, suddenly, and while I was brushing the bowl with snow a flash of lucidity came upon and yearned for the stars. I looked up, on my knees, and saw the vast and silent spaces above me, dotted with lights and beams of blue and purple like the brushstrokes of some cosmic painter.

One star, brighter than the others, caught my attention. It shone red and yellow in the East, like a small sunrise – and it kept on growing stronger.

I jumped to my feet, while the light kept getting brighter and brighter. I suddenly noticed that it was moving West as well. I held up my hand in an open palm, placing the shining light between my thumb and my index. It had grown to the size of a grain of rice, and it was getting ever brighter as it coursed West. There was a burst of light when it passed over me, and I saw that it had a tail behind it.

I smiled, chuckling in ecstasy; it really was a falling star, an omen of luck.

I felt a frightening chill down my spine, as if someone was standing in the darkness around me – as if I could hear indistinct voices resonating.

Suddenly the heavens split between West, North and South. Three arcs of dark blue light blazed across the sky, each curved around the falling star like hooks. The clouds were blown away and flocks of birds took off from the forest in panic. The lines were quivering and oscillating, thrashing across the night sky like whips, with flashes like lightning when they collided. The lights grew brighter and the struggle more intense – until the one in the South fluttered and disappeared into the darkness. The other two grew in intensity, seemingly pulling towards the North-West. The western arc was now so bright that I had to shield my eyes while looking at it, and the northern one twitched like its southern rival had, and disappeared as well.

The last arc of light began moving west at breakneck speed, so quickly that it was near the horizon within seconds. As it disappeared under the treeline, I caught a last glimpse of the falling star, whose brightness had been almost entirely outshined.

Darkness and calm returned, for an instant, until a blast of air came upon Umeshima like a waterfall. It howled down, shaking trees, ripping straw from the roof of my hut, and forcing me to my knees as I covered my ears in terror.

When I looked up again, the falling star was well and truly gone. I could not comprehend what had happened, but I felt scared. I felt small, I felt insignificant. What powers had the right to cleave the skies asunder, to sweep stars from the heavens like small fry in a fishing net?

When I went back inside the hut, I saw Himiko’s shining gold eyes again, awaiting my return. The thundering blast of wind had awoken her.

She smiled at me, tenderly, as if amused by my befuddled expression.

“Be not afraid,” she said, “you’ll understand.”