The winter pressed forward, and I barely survived. Without the bodies beside me during the night, the well built room I kept, the bounty of food I was used to, I was a shell. Night after night in the bitter stone Honden, I prayed with only Mori to hear me, the useless fox spirit. The winds screamed outside during the darkest hours, and in my head I screamed with them, just so she could hear. The blowing snow drifted into the doorway, freezing the stone floor I slept upon. My hair fell in tendrils of ice, and I felt a thin layer of frost upon my skin. My face weathered, and with the sun each morning, I tried to warm my skin.
I stared into the fire as the sun began to melt the tip of the snow drift one morning. My knees to my chest, I rested my chin atop them as simply watched, unblinking, the flames flicker and dance like I used to do. My eyes burned, the smoke scratching them like tiny fingers, and I let tears slowly roll down my cheeks, knowing they would freeze there eventually. Mori came into my line of sight, throwing something down at my feet with force. The dust across the floor caught the movement of air and scattered.
"Put these on and get out of here. At least for a short time, stop sulking."
I reached a hand out without moving from my position, my fingertips running gently across the mound of fur she had laid to rest there with me. I took it with both hands, holding it up to find a length of it to put over my shoulders while wearing a Haori. Thick white tabi accompanied the fur. For the first time, I felt energy suddenly course through me. I wrapped my red kimono over the white one I had worn since I arrived at the shrine, and tied the shrine keeper's Hakama over the length around my waist. The shrine keeper's Haori was heavy, woven with sturdy material that would keep the harsh wind at bay. I gathered my hair, pulling it forward on both sides of my neck to protect the skin that remained uncovered.
I stepped outside for the first time. I couldn't remember how long it had been since I entered the Honden and put the outside world to the furthest corner of my memory. The sky, the trees, the forest, were dead to me, simply ceasing to exist in my mind. I felt the sunlight on my face and was reborn on the earth from the limbo I had been floating in, suffering, trying to determine how long it would last. I walked as if emerging from the curtain onto the stage, my admirers before me rendered as the tiny crystalline fragments atop the snow. In the distance, a valley created by the crossing point of two mountains, billowing white smoke floated into the air as if to greet me. It had been long since I craved the attention of an audience, but I felt called to investigate the source of the smoke, in search of warmth if I found nothing else.
The other side of Edo, separated by the war since I was a child, was a more lavish place than where I had come from. I lived in a world of riches at my fingertips, silk always upon my back, warmth at my feet, but this part of Edo that I stepped into from the mountain was a scene I had only dreamt of. My gaze ran down the long main street, lined with vendors, as far as I could see into the distance. Towering at the end of the rows, a great temple stood, the layers of curved roof peaks a beacon of light against the sky. I walked through clouds of blowing white smoke scented with sweet and savoury, feeling as though I could taste the food it came from, absorbing the nutrients into my skin.
"Okyaku-sama!" I heard a call, the voice close to my side. How long had I simply been a statue in place, staring down the long row, bathed in the smoke? "Okyaku-sama, would you care for a taste of tea?"
An old man was speaking through the noise running through my brain in the crowd, the footsteps on heavy wooden shoes, the shouts and calls. He was twisted like an old tree, limping as he approached me, taking my arm and leading me toward his stall. He placed a cup into my hands, and I held it carefully, my fingers taking in every bit of warmth from it. The smell of the tea inside permitted the air I breathed, the freshness of the plant the only thing left in my sight as I drank it greedily. I felt alive again, come back from the frozen dead as I felt my skin begin to thaw.
"What shrine do you come from?"
"The mountains." My skin became hot recalling that I was dressed recognizably in the shrine keeper's kimono. A charade I would have to upkeep while I lingered with the real world people.
"Perhaps you would like to bring some of my tea back to the mountains with you." The old man held out a bag to me, a fair sized dirty white crudely sewn together fabric sack. The smell of the tea through the fabric drew me closer still.
I took the bag from him, holding it close to my heart. "And two of those cups." Small dark brown and green tea cups caught my attention, similar to the cups in my room that had likely perished in the fire. I held out a handful of coins to the man, more than four times the amount needed to purchase the goods.
The man held up his hand to stop me, lowering his head in an awkward and crooked bow. "There is no need to exchange money. The work you do for our precious Gods is payment enough for me. Because of you, the Gods smile upon me." He held a tea pot with two hands, offering it outward toward me. "As a gift to you."
I held the packages close to my heart, offering them a place there to save me from myself. A sham, recognized as one, just like my days in my side of Edo, parading myself with the Geisha, dancing, and entertaining in the dark. Though I felt this man, this time, held my heart alongside my newly acquired treasures, he urged me to do good with the power he had given me in the form of tea and compliment. I would return to my burnt down shrine in the mountains, my lonely fox spirit, and somehow I could feel that I would make this shrivelled man proud of the work I would do. He was to become my inspiration to remain on my feet, to dance again.
Mori was my eternal greeting as I chose my life within the mountain Honden, but this time I was ready for her. As I stepped back into the stone structure, I reached a hand out to her, frozen as it was from the cold day darkening into night, I curled my fingers around the nape of her neck. Producing a length of silk from the sleeve of my kimono, I took her hands and laid the silk neatly across them. I moved them upwards and pressed them to her eyes, holding them a moment to indicate she should remain. I tied the silk around the back of her head, her smooth hair unhindered by it.
"Seishin?" Her voice travelled through the silence. The wind whistled as it passed over the entryway opening, nearly drowning her out.
I placed a finger over her lips, silencing her, indicating she should remain silent. I replaced my finger with my lips, pressing slightly, her hands snaked their way across my chest, over my shoulders. Her body searched for mine. I backed away slowly, outstretching my hand against her to keep her in place, reaching as I moved until only the tip of my longest finger touched her, and I was gone.
"Seishin, what are you doing?"
I struck a stone to ignite the fire, setting the tea cups down gently, trying not to make a sound. I gathered snow into the tea pot, placing it over the fire. Mori was a spectre in the corner of my vision, standing stoic, blind, unaware entirely of what my intentions with her were at that moment. Still, somehow, she obeyed. I watched the fire burn, the steam begin to rise from the spout of the teapot. I closed my eyes and took myself somewhere else. Transported through time to my room in Edo, the warm glow of the candles, the fire as the centerpiece. I drew him in my mind's eye, tracing every outline of his face, his clothing, his body underneath. I knew it all so well I could recreate him in an instant, drifting off into my dreams where he lived still. I lifted a tea cup to my lips, breathing deeply the scent of the leaves before sipping greedily, draining the cup. I allowed a soft sigh to escape through my parted lips, imagining still the warmth I felt was his.
I cast my eyes to Mori. Not a word, not a movement. Could she hear me? I put my unstable theory to the test. I touched my fingertips together, rolling the connection down each joint until my palms touched. Prayer between my eyes, I bowed my head to conjure my deepest demon, the memory that haunted my every sleep but set my body ablaze with desire. I saw him linger over me, flashes of bare skin, the contrast between us so distinct where one of us ended and the other began. I remembered the electricity running across my skin where he touched me. When I could take it no longer, I opened my eyes, wrenching myself from my dream state, and I looked to Mori's unmoving form. I ached to return, and let his name slip through into the real world. "Sugai."
At the word, finally, a reaction from the fox spirit. I sensed the slightest movement of her shoulders, a minuscule shudder at the name I barely spoke. "Seishin?" She called my name with worry soaking her tone.
"Did you hear me? Could you see my deepest desire?" I cradled the tea pot to my chest, holding in the warmth of it, filling my stores in preparation for the long night I could predict.
"I heard you say his name."
"I said his name with my voice." She had not heard any sound or imagine from my head. If she could not see my face or form with her eyes, I reasoned, she could not form pictures of my thoughts either. Her eyes gave her away. So I would take them from her.