The Exorcism 

Hearing her words, a hot, dangerous whisper in the sacred quiet, Haruka felt the short sword in his hand grow impossibly heavy, as if he could no longer hold it. He instinctively tightened his grip on the hilt and looked at Lady Murasaki’s noble and exquisitely beautiful face. To say that such a thought, of her kneeling, of her submitting to him, had never crossed his mind would be a lie.

Lady Murasaki’s eyes glinted, a dark, knowing fire as she stared at him, waiting. After a few seconds of charged, suffocating silence, Haruka made his decision and uttered a single, quiet word: “Yes.”

A slow, triumphant smile bloomed on Lady Murasaki’s face. “Very good,” she said, not pursuing the matter further, the game already won. “It is time for the blessing.”

Haruka took the new porcelain bottle from the miko, took a sip of the sake, and sprayed the fine, alcoholic mist on her face. Lady Murasaki didn’t even bother to close her eyes. She stood up gracefully and walked to the other side. Momozawa Ai immediately brought a clean towel to wipe her face, and no one dared to criticize her for ruining the “good fortune” of the blessing.

Haruka watched her retreating back. She stood tall and elegant, a pillow-like taiko musubi knot tied at her waist. Even though he was unfamiliar with many of the rules of this world, Haruka knew this much: a woman who tied her obi in a taiko musubi was married; one who tied it in a flowing butterfly knot was not. He knew that Lady Murasaki was, in essence, pure, but seeing that knot, a symbol of a life she hadn’t lived, he couldn’t quite place the churning, complicated feeling in his own heart.

“Young Master, it is time for the exorcism.”

The old miko had to call his name three times before Haruka slowly came back to his senses, unable to remember what he had just been thinking. He looked around; no one seemed to have noticed his distraction. But then he heard the old miko whisper, her voice a dry rustle of leaves, “Why must you wallow in this filth?”

Haruka gave her a sharp look. “What do you mean, Miko-sama?”

The old miko, seemingly busy arranging the ritual items on the table, was actually speaking to him. “You still have a chance to change your mind. Do not perform this exorcism. Come back with me to the Ise Grand Shrine.”

A wave of profound annoyance washed over Haruka. Still trying to get me to go to that shrine? “Why are you so insistent on me?” he asked, not understanding.

The old miko just stared at him with her cloudy, milky white eyes. Haruka did not flinch, meeting her gaze directly.

The people behind them sensed something was wrong, a strange tension radiating from the two of them at the altar, and all looked toward them.

The old miko grinned, a terrifying sight, revealing the few remaining, blackened teeth in her mouth, and said in a loud, booming voice, “Young Master, please begin the exorcism.”

Haruka, unafraid, deliberately walked past her. As he did, he thought he heard a voice whisper, a snake’s hiss in the silence, “That demon is your father.”

He was furious. He lifted the tip of his silver sword and turned to look at the old miko, catching that faint, foul odor again, the smell of rot and decay.

The old miko wasn’t looking at him. She turned to the crowd. “Everyone here is a woman. I am afraid the evil energy will harm you. Please, retreat to the doorway, where you will be safe.”

The women orderly, silently, retreated to the doorway, forming two neat rows of black-clad shadows.

The old miko turned back and lit the two long, red candles on the table. The flames danced, and her white eyes seemed to burn with an inner fire. Haruka’s own anger crackled like a fire. If there really are no such things as gods and ghosts, then fine, he thought. But if there is a demon, and it is my father, then killing it will be an offering to my mother’s spirit in heaven.

He turned, pushed aside the heavy black gauze curtain, and stepped into the darkness surrounding the Old Mistress’s bed.

Because the only light came from the candles outside, and the bed was shrouded in layers of black gauze, the light that filtered through was dim and weak, and he could only make out indistinct shapes.

Haruka gripped the hilt of the sword, his heart pounding against his ribs. The old miko had only told him to enter the curtain; she had said nothing else, only that he would know what to do. He had no idea what to do now.

He slowly approached the bed. Suddenly, her weak, reedy voice came from the darkness. “It’s you…”

“It’s me,” Haruka replied. “Old Mistress, how are you feeling?”

“Heh. Still can’t move.”

In the darkness, Haruka couldn’t see her face, but he remembered that she had stolen his father, and had forced Kiyohime on Lady Murasaki as a daughter. Her actions were wicked. Though he was not one to rush to judgment, his impression of her was not good.

“Are you still there?” the Old Mistress asked, her voice thin and reedy.

“I’m here.”

“It’s so dark.”

“The old miko had us extinguish the lights and use only candles. Your bed is surrounded by curtains; the light can’t get in.”

“The people outside can’t see in, either,” the Old Mistress said with a strange, cunning meaning.

“They can still hear your voice, Old Mistress.”

“Heh. A moment ago, I could hear everyone talking. Now, there’s nothing. Are they all hiding far away?”

“The old miko was afraid you would all be tainted by the evil energy, so she had everyone retreat to the doorway.”

“Haha. Now I can’t even hear their voices.” The Old Mistress’s voice was filled with a sad, bitter fury. “What’s wrong with all of you? When I was sitting, you all couldn’t wait to kneel at my feet and listen to my every word. Now that I am lying down, why are you all so far away?”

Haruka thought for a moment, then said tentatively, “It is, in a word, betrayal.”

The Old Mistress suddenly fell silent. After four or five long, agonizing breaths, there was still no sound.

Fearing something had happened, Haruka quickly leaned in closer. Just as he was about to check on her, she suddenly opened her eyes and screamed, her voice a raw, terrifying sound that filled the room, “What exorcism! You are the evil ones! You are the evil ones!”

The candle flames outside flickered wildly. Haruka, who was naturally brave and had been expecting something like this, was not frightened by her outburst, but it did leave him at a complete loss. He took a few steps back to avoid being caught in her sudden frenzy.

After screaming a few times, the Old Mistress seemed to run out of energy. She clutched her stomach, panting for a long time before she finally managed to say, “Little… little bastard…”

Haruka’s brow furrowed. He watched as she struggled to turn her head to look at him and realized she was talking about him. He felt no anger, only a profound, weary pity. The Old Mistress’s dementia is getting worse, he thought. Before, she wanted me to change my name. Now she’s calling me a bastard.

“Little bastard,” she said, her voice a ragged whisper, “you little bastard. I can’t believe I didn’t fool you… Did that monstrous daughter of mine send you to kill me?”

“Old Mistress, I really am here to help you with the exorcism,” Haruka said, his voice full of pity. “Even though I don’t believe there are such things as ghosts in this world.”

“How can you say there aren’t? Aren’t you all ghosts!”

“Old Mistress, do you suspect we are using this exorcism as a pretense to get rid of you?”

“Aren’t you?”

“And you suspect it was Lady Murasaki who told me to do this?”

“No. I don’t suspect you. And I don’t suspect her.” The Old Mistress’s head thrashed back and forth on the pillow, her eyes bulging. “I suspect everything. I suspect all of you.”

She’s gone mad, Haruka thought.

As if she could read his mind, the Old Mistress screamed, “I’m not mad! I’m not mad… Argh!”

Just then, the sound of the old miko chanting in a strange, ancient, guttural language came from outside. The Old Mistress, as if possessed of a new, youthful, terrifying vigor, began to writhe on the bed, clutching her stomach and rolling back and forth.

Haruka was shocked. A strong, violent wind howled outside, and with a deafening crash, a window was thrown open. The wind and rain poured in, a chaotic, elemental fury. The gauze curtain behind him was pulled open, and the candlelight flickered wildly, threatening to go out. Haruka’s shadow stretched long and monstrous, covering the ginseng-root-like Old Mistress, who was now rolling on the bed, her belly strangely, unnaturally distended.