NaNoWriMo3

“I’ll be right back,” said Kiyomi, “You wanted to work on today’s homework together, right? I’m just going to go tell nii-san what you learned.”

Waving briefly to Miko, Kiyomi headed out of her room and went downstairs. Of course, Yuichi’s bedroom was upstairs, but he rarely used it. He had essentially claimed a room downstairs as his study. It helped that the Nakamura family had a great deal of books on magic stored away. Perhaps, for the most part, they were a weak mage family, but they were certainly an old one. Yuichi had made himself a somewhat disorganized library and research center in the unused room, and it had served him fairly well.

Kiyomi knocked on the door.

“Hey, nii-san,” she began, “About that Kurogane Masahiro guy, he-“

Rather abruptly, the door opened.

Yuichi wore glasses. His eyesight was, rather frankly, completely terrible and he needed glasses in order to see clearly. His eyes were blue, a trait gained from his mother’s side of the family. His black hair was cut short, a little past his ears, but always seemed to be extraordinarily messy. Far more messy then one would expect from short hair. He was thin, fairly average in height, and tended towards wearing dark colors. At the moment, that meant a dark blue shirt and black pants.

“Kiyomi, what did she find out? I’ve found out something a little more, but I need to hear what she discovered,” he said, quickly, as if he was trying to get as many words out of his mouth as quickly as possible.

Kiyomi stared for a moment, and sighed.

“He’s dead, nii-san,” she began, “He lived centuries ago, he was a weak mage with some lofty goal involving the gods. He was going to try and live forever to achieve this goal, but he was too weak a mage to achieve it.”

Kiyomi folded her arms when she finished speaking. Maybe this would get her brother to stop worrying. She could only hope it would work.

“… Dead?” Yuichi asked, raising an eyebrow. After a moment, he shook his head. “Kurogane Masahiro isn’t dead, though he was alive centuries ago.”

“… Nii-san, just because someone is using his name doesn’t mean he’s still alive.”

“Kiyomi, take a look at this,” Yuichi abruptly produced a small volume, a black book. The cover was cracked and weathered, and there were no identifying marks on it. “This book is a lost journal of the Kawaguchi onmyouji family. They’ve been around for centuries, as you might already know. Look at this.”
Yuichi raised the book, flipping it open to somewhere around the middle. Kiyomi’s eyes fell on the page, and she began to read. The kanji were neatly-written and elegant.

“November 16th, 1551

The Journal of Kawaguchi Hitoshi

I have begun to familiarize myself with the methods of those who have embraced a different approach to magic. These techniques have come from beyond Japan’s swords, a foreigner’s ideals. While I would never use such techniques, I cannot deny that they are effective. Unlike the ofuda of an onmyouji, these spells are spoken, or may even be cast mentally if the caster is skilled enough. There are ways to inscribe spells, but from what I understand the process is fundamentally different from that which creates ofuda.

I spoke with one of these magi. He was native to Japan, and had embraced these techniques because he felt it would let him be more able to learn how the gods interact with humanity. However, it was plain to me that he was a failure in any form of magic. However, he had nothing but determination in his heart. He believed learning of the nature of the relationship between the gods and humanity would allow him to help those who have been neglected by the gods.

If I take away nothing else from this meaning, I know that Kurogane Masahiro is an odd man.”

“Wait… that’s…” Kiyomi stared in confusion. “That’s not right. Miko-chan said he was a ruthless man who would do anything, not the sort of person who wanted to help anyone but himself.”

“That’s not all, look at this,” Yuichi flipped through several pages, towards the end of the book, centuries ahead.

The kanji here were more quickly written. Still neat, but lacking in elegance.

“July 20th, 1820

The Journal of Kawaguchi Mikoto

Today, I have encountered a strange mage while meeting with a fellow onmyouji. He said little, aside from introducing himself. Apart from that, he said he was here to discover how to kill the gods. How strange!
What kind of goal is that? Everyone knows that there is no way to slay a god.

But that wasn’t the only strange thing about this mage. His right arm, it felt so odd. I never saw anything beyond the heavy bandages that covered it. But shortly before he left, I planted an ofuda to read the levels of mana he possessed, and I simply cannot understand it! His right arm held mana equivalent to only the most powerful of onmyouji and magi, but his body contained so little. Without the strange concentration of mana in his right arm, he would be nothing more than a failure as a mage. But that is not the strangest thing I have discovered.

My ancestor, Kawaguchi Hitoshi, has met a man by the very same name! Kurogane Masahiro… what does this mean? Could they be one and the same?

I shall have to find out.”

“… I don’t understand, how does this prove that they’re the same person?” asked Kiyomi. Yes, this was… strange. Two men, with goals involving the gods, both who would be failures as magi… but this still wasn’t enough to prove that Kurogane Masahiro was alive today, or even that he lived all the way into 1820.

“Maybe it doesn’t, Kiyomi,” began Yuichi, “But there is one last entry that you have to see.”

He flipped several pages forward. It was the final entry in the book. The kanji… it was very deliberately written, neat, but forcefully so. As if it was written by a child who was trying to make sure that their writing looked nice.

“May 8th, 1901

The Journal of Kawaguchi Sakura

I turned nine today, but I don’t feel very happy. Grandfather is really very sick, and I’m really worried about him. We’re moving again, too… I hope I don’t lose this journal. Mother and Father would be sad if I lost it. I decided to go and see if there was any way I could help Grandfather. I think he may die, soon, so I decided to look for any way that he could become immortal. That way, even if he’s sick, he’ll never die! I looked through the old entries in this journal and found out about someone named Kurogane Masahiro, who was around in 1551 and 1820! I decided to look for him. We’re living in the same place as my ancestor Kawaguchi Mikoto lived, so I thought he might still be around.

And he was!

He was big, and he wore all black, and his arm was bandaged just like Mikoto said. I tried to talk to him, but he didn’t say anything. He just looked at me. I kept following him, and asked him if he could help Grandfather, but he just said I should blame the gods.

He’s not a very nice man. I went home, I’ll have to try and find some other way to help Grandfather.”

Kiyomi stared at the page.

What did this mean? Perhaps it was the testimony of a child, but the person was the same. It was unlikely that three separate men had all been named Kurogane Masahiro, and had all bandaged their right arm. “But… how is this possible? How could he have become immortal? Why would be coming to this city, even if he really is still around?”

Yuichi shook his head.

“I don’t know. I’ll have to keep researching it. But… I think it might have something to do with his arm,” Yuichi replied. “Whatever he’s planning, though… you have to keep an eye out for him. I don’t think killing the gods is a very safe goal.”

Kiyomi could only nod, at that. She had seen a god in action, when an Angel had threatened the entirety of Japan. Amaterasu…  She was the only reason that Angel hadn’t laid waste to the entire country. And she was so incredibly powerful… how could someone kill a god? It simply wasn’t possible, was it?

“I’ll try and keep an eye out for him,” Kiyomi said. He did sound dangerous, whatever he was going to do. “… See you, nii-san.”

Kiyomi turned away from her brother, and heard the door shut behind him. She headed back up the stairs. She had to tell Miko, for certain.

An immortal mage who wanted to kill the gods…

She was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard a thud in front of her. There, on the floor, was the squirming and towel-clad form of her little sister.

“… Chie-chan, that’s the third time today,” Kiyomi said, kneeling down to help the little girl up. She really didn’t need to tell Chie, of all people, about the dangerous mage who might be coming. “Are you okay?”

“I-I’m just fine, onee-san!” cried Chie, as Kiyomi lifted her into a sitting position. The girl quickly made to hold her towel on, not at all willing to lose it. “I just ran a bit, and my foot caught the carpet, but I’m okay!”

“You shouldn’t run so much if it makes you fall,” replied Kiyomi, standing and taking Chie’s free hand. She pulled her little sister to her feet. How many times had she told Chie that, anyway? She was beginning to think the nine-year-old had so much energy that it was impossible for her not to run as a default mode of transportation. She had certainly run everywhere her whole life, and showed no sign of slowing down at this point. Well, at least, no sign of slowing down unless she fell over again.

“Just walk to your room, okay?” Kiyomi patted Chie on the head, “After all, falling over four times in one day is just absurd.”

Chie hastily nodded. “Right, onee-san!”

With that, she rather speedily walked down the hall to her room.