Akiko woke before dawn. As she lay in her futon, staring at the ceiling, she couldn’t put her finger on any reason why she should be awake, but awake she was, with no hint that she could get back to sleep. The sky was beginning to brighten, its light spreading above her. She glanced around the room; everything looked normal. Sighing, she sat up, grabbing the yukata and pulling it on as she stood up. Carefully opening the window, she stepped out onto the veranda and then down into the garden, crossing the bridge to purify herself at the water basin before going on into the shrine precincts.

As she stepped through the gate, the sunlight reflected off the burnished copper roof of the shrine was dazzling, and she had to shade her eyes. Her heart seemed to leap into her mouth, and she quickly looked around. There was a white stone path under her feet, and a gleaming white torii just behind her. The unpainted wood of the shrine building in front of her glowed warmly in the dawn sunlight.

There was no sign of the house.

She glanced back, at the steps descending through the forest into the clouds below, and put one hand on the torii to steady herself as she took deep breaths to calm down.

It’s just Tamao wanting to see me, she thought. Nothing to worry about.

As if answering her thoughts, possibly actually answering her thoughts, the doors of the shrine swung open, golden light spilling out from within and competing with the sunlight. The air got warmer, and then hot, and Akiko found herself starting to sweat even in nothing but the yukata. The light was bright enough to hurt her eyes, forcing her to squint.

Except when she was looking directly into the shrine, she found. She took a step forward, and a lancing pain shot up her leg as she brought her foot down. Sandals, she thought, stepping out of them and leaving them by the torii. The stones of the path were warm underfoot, almost hot enough to hurt, and she walked quickly towards the shrine. The air was still and silent, and her footfalls, even barefoot, sounded loud in the morning. As she started climbing the steps, she could smell the wood, as fresh as if it had just been cut.

On the shrine veranda, she grabbed the rope and rang the bell, its peal ringing clear and bright, the light from within the shrine shivering and shattering at the sound, dissolving in fragments that seemed to burn around her.

Tamao was just within the doors, his head rearing up, eyes fixed on her.

Akiko dropped to her knees without thinking, bowing her face twice to the floor, clapping twice, and then bowing once more. Slowly, she looked up. The gems of his scales flashed in the sunlight, or glittered in the gloom, red like fire. Lightning danced around his mouth, lancing out as he opened it, revealing curved teeth the size of Akiko’s hand.

Tamao lowered his face towards hers, and Akiko could feel the anger coming off it. An image of Kawasaki rose in her mind, and the buildings swayed and fell in a great earthquake.

Swiftly, Tamao pulled back, the doors of the shrine slamming shut in front of Akiko with a blast of air that pushed her back, rolling her down the steps of the shrine.

She crashed onto the path in the gloom, the impact knocking the breath from her body. The shrine building was gone; she was lying at the end of the path, and could see the iwakura in front of her. She was barefoot, in her yukata, and the stones of the path were chill under her feet as she walked to the top of the stairs. The sandals were there.

Stepping into them she shivered, as chill sweat stuck her yukata to her skin.

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“I think he was threatening to destroy Kawasaki.” Akiko finished telling Shiraishi about her vision. The priest looked worried, drumming her fingers on the table.

“Do you think he means it?”

“I imagine so. He seemed very angry.”

“Do you think he can?”

That was a very good question. Akiko thought for a moment.

“Well, if he causes a storm, flood, and earthquake all together, he can certainly do a lot of damage. Maybe not destroy the city, but I’m sure he can kill a lot of people.”

Shiraishi dropped her head into her hands.

“What are we doing?” She didn’t look up as she spoke, and Akiko couldn’t interpret her tone.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are we still serving at a shrine?” The priest did look up now, and Akiko could see tears on her face. “I re-read some of the legends. Kami hiding in toilets to rape women. Kami making volcanos erupt. Kami causing famine, or plague, or typhoons. Mr Akiyama was right.”

Akiko didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t deny what the priest was saying, but, on the other hand, she knew she really didn’t have any choice but to serve at the shrine. Tamao wouldn’t let her do anything else.

“Maybe we should just give up.” The priest hid her face in her hands again, and Akiko sat, stunned, for several moments.

“We… we can’t give up,” she said, finally. “If we do nothing, Tamao will do whatever he is threatening to do to the city. People will die.”

Shiraishi looked up again, and sniffed, wiping tears from her face.

“Yes. You’re right. We have to do something. What?”

Akiko blinked, her mind going blank for a moment.

“I don’t know,” she finally answered. “What did priests used to do with violent kami?”

“Well, enshrined them, like we did with Hideo Takenaka. But we can’t rebuild Tamao’s shrine that quickly. That’s probably why he’s angry. I suppose.”

“Isn’t there anything else?”

The priest looked blank for a moment.

“Festivals, but none of them are due. Jichinsai.”

“Jichinsai?” Akiko asked.

“A ceremony to placate the…” Shiraishi paused. “Spirits of the area before building a house,” she finished. “That’s it. We can perform a ceremony to calm Tamao’s spirit. Tamashi shizume. Some of the oldest ceremonies were for that.”

“So, you know how to do it?”

“Well, it’s not that common these days. Jinja Honcho don’t emphasise it; it isn’t a standard ceremony. But I’m sure I can put one together. The elements aren’t that obscure.”

Akiko nodded.

“That sounds like a good idea. We can at least get a bit more time.”

“And, Akiko, I think it’s time to formally make you a miko.”

“What?” Akiko was surprised.

“Oh, there are still things for you to learn, but you’ve learned enough to help at ceremonies. Since Tamao seems to have been very keen for you to become a miko, formally making you one might also help to calm him.”

“Er, yes.” Akiko realised that she still hadn’t really been thinking of herself as a miko. If she let Shiraishi incorporate it in the ceremony, she’d be committed.

“That’s… a good idea,” Akiko said. Did she have a choice?

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“Of course, normally we’d do the ceremony in the shrine.” Shiraishi pulled a face as she said it.

“We could do it in front of the kamidana,” Akiko suggested. “That’s where the go-shintai is at the moment.” Shiraishi shook her head.

“It’s a reasonable temporary location, but we can’t do this ceremony inside the house. We need to be careful about purity, and about inviting angry kami into the place where we live.”

“But there’s nowhere else.”

“We can do it on the shrine grounds, I think. Maybe on the location of the shrine. Let’s go and look.” Shiraishi sprang to her feet, and Akiko stood up to follow her, thinking that the priest seemed much more positive than she had even a few minutes ago. Mind you, she had to admit that she felt a lot better now that they had something to try, something that might make a difference.

The shrine grounds were quiet. The ruins of the old shrine building had been cleared away, leaving a bare path of disturbed earth. The roofing copper had, in the end, been sold for scrap; none of it was reusable as it was, to the shrine carpenter’s surprise. Shiraishi had ordered the first materials for the new building, as the designs got close to being finalised, but nothing had been delivered yet. As a result, there was nothing going on in the shrine precincts, and so the protesters were spending their time at the bottom of the steps, trying to discourage people from coming in.

Successfully, Akiko had to admit.

Shiraishi walked over to the bare earth, and nodded, looking around. She gestured at the iwakura and turned to Akiko.

“We can do the ceremony here, with the iwakura beyond the himorogi.”

“Himorogi?” Akiko asked, as she walked over.

“Um, temporary shrine, I guess. It’s a sakaki branch with shide on, on a platform, surrounded by shimenawa.” Those were words Akiko knew now. Sakaki was the broad-leaf evergreen used a lot in Shinto ceremonies, shide were the pieces of white paper folded into lightning-shaped strips, like on the ohnusa, and the shimenawa were the rice-straw ropes with shide on, marking the edge of sacred areas.

“Oh, right. Yes, that was in one of the books.” Akiko remembered the picture.

“Yes, they’re normally used for jichinsai, so I have all the necessary bits. We can put the go-shintai on the platform with the sakaki branch. I think about here would be good; what do you think?” The priest was indicating a spot that would have been near the centre of the shrine building.

“Maybe a bit closer to the iwakura? Where the inner shrine used to be?” Shiraishi thought for a moment, and then nodded.

“Himorogi here, and ceremony in this area, then?” Before she could reply, Akiko heard arguing voices coming up the stairs and turned to look. She quickly recognised one of the voices as Akira Takenaka.

“Look, I just want to pay my respects. Please leave me alone.”

“There isn’t even a shrine building.”

“I know.”

Akira came into view, pursued by a middle-aged woman who looked vaguely familiar. She spotted Akiko and Shiraishi, and glared at them, but she fell silent. As soon as Akira had entered the precincts, she stepped round him, ostentatiously wandering around.

Akira looked at them both, and bowed.

“I’m here to help.”

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“Thank you. With what?” Shiraishi sounded grateful, but a little puzzled. Akira blushed, and shrugged.

“Anything, really. I was feeling guilty about not coming after all the trouble my family have caused you.”

Shiraishi shook her head vigourously.

“Don’t think like that. Anyway, we should pay our respects.” She didn’t need to say who to, but just led the way to Hideo Takenaka’s small shrine. Akiko and Shiraishi stepped back to give Akira some space, but the protester came over, and, apologising for getting in the way, walked between Akira and the shrine, and then went round behind it, bending over it to inspect the construction. Akiko started to feel annoyed, and she could see Shiraishi pressing her lips tightly together, obviously trying to avoid saying anything that would cause more problems.

“I’m sorry, would you excuse us for a moment?” Akira sounded tired, more than anything else. The protester looked up.

“Oh, please go ahead. Don’t mind me.”

“I’d like a bit of privacy.”

“This isn’t your private shrine, you know.”

“Please leave.” Shiraishi was, just barely, polite, but her tone was very final.

“Oh, of course, Reverend.” The protester left immediately, heading straight for the exit.

“We have a couple of minutes before someone else can get here; go ahead, Akira.”

As Akira paid his respects to his father, Akiko looked round at the entrance. Sure enough, another protester emerged into the shrine grounds, and was making his way over as Akira rose from his final bow. Shiraishi beckoned, and they hurried into the shrine house, avoiding any contact.

“I’m sorry about them, Akira.”

“Can’t you do something about them? Call the police?” Shiraishi shrugged.

“They always go when we ask them to, they are always polite, and they don’t damage anything.”

“But isn’t it harassment?”

“Oh, probably. But I expect they’ll get bored before we could get anything out of the courts. And the police are hardly going to arrest all of them to stop them interfering, are they.” Shiraishi sounded completely resigned, even hopeless.

“I suppose so. Anyway, is there anything I can do to help?” Akira glanced between Shiraishi and Akiko as he asked. The priest considered the offer for a few moments, and then shook her head.

“Not right now, thank you. Once we start work on rebuilding, however, we might ask again. Since you’re here, though, would you like some tea?”

“Thank you, but no. I should be getting back to the office. We’re actually quite busy, now.” He bowed again, and left. Akiko went to see him to the exit. She felt that she should ask how he was, but she couldn’t think of any way to phrase it. Surely there should  be more reaction to what had happened with his father? But then, why would he show it to her? In the end, she accompanied him in silence, and felt awkward as she saw him off.

Looking back at the shrine, she saw the protesters still wandering around, two of them now, and frowned as she walked back to the house.

“Revd Shiraishi,” she said as she got back in, “can we do the tamashi shizume while the protesters are there?” The priest looked at her sharply, and then went to look at the precincts.

“No,” she said, frowning, “I don’t think we can.” She paused. “We’ll do it tonight, after midnight. They’ve usually gone home by then. And that gives me time to prepare.”

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Akiko knelt on the floor of her room in her underwear, looking at the miko’s vestments laid out before her. She had practised, of course, but she had borrowed Shiraishi’s priest’s vestments for that, because the types of clothing were the same, even if the colours, and size, were a little different.

Now, looking at the white kimono and red hakama, she found herself intensely nervous. Shiraishi had bought them for her use, and produced them a few hours ago, telling her to have a proper bath and then get changed for the ceremony. She had laid them out then, but had avoided thinking about what they meant until she had finished her bath. But there was no running away from it now.

She didn’t even dare to touch them. That would be to acknowledge the decision. Naoyuki and Akiyama’s criticisms came back to her. What would people think of her? True, she knew that it wasn’t just superstition, and she’d been living at the shrine, but publicly declaring herself a miko; that was different. That was rather final. Did she really want to make such a statement?

If you don’t, why have you been at the shrine all this time, taking all the training?

Because I couldn’t do anything else, she admitted to herself. She had let Tamao drive her to this situation. Well, she corrected herself, not exactly “let”. But still, it really hadn’t been her decision. Oh, granted she had chosen to live in the shrine house, but it was that or the street. And she’d taken the training, but, again, the choice was being thrown out onto the street without a job. Tamao had seen to it that she couldn’t get any other work. She’d run into a burning shrine to get a mask out, but even that had been driven by Tamao and the moment.

And then there was what Akiyama and Shiraishi had both said about the kami. They were violent, petty, and, it seemed, capable of doing stupid things in a fit of rage that only made their situation worse. Maybe it was OK to do things that stopped them from hurting you, but to serve them…

Akiko shivered slightly, the air chill on her skin, but she still couldn’t make herself pick up the clothes. That would be a decision, she realised. She couldn’t put the vestments on and attend at the ceremony without deciding to serve at the shrine. No more excuses, after that.

She looked at her ordinary clothes, hanging in the closet. She could put them on, tell Shiraishi she couldn’t serve the kami, and find some other way to deal with the problems Tamao was causing. She could go back to a normal life. It was very tempting, and Akiko found that she couldn’t look away.

But if I don’t become a miko, how can we stop Tamao causing that earthquake? Or stop him pursuing me? Will he let me get a job?

She looked back at the vestments, but she couldn’t make herself pick them up just to dodge Tamao’s harassment. That was what she had been doing ever since this started.

Someone has to do it. Someone has to deal with the problem.

Suddenly, Akiko felt calm. That was true. Someone had to deal with it, someone had to mediate between Tamao and the people of Kawasaki, someone had to deal with the kegare. And, for whatever reason, she seemed to be in the ideal position to do it.

She reached for the vestments.

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Akiko’s nerves returned as soon as she stepped out of her room. She clasped her hands in front of her as she’d learned, and walked carefully to the front of the house, stepping down into the sandals Shiraishi had left in the entrance hall. From the door, she could see the priest finishing the preparations.

Four braziers, burning wood, stood at the corners of a square, and the himorogi was set up in the bright area between them, the shide fluttering in the gentle breeze. The wind shifted, and Akiko could smell the smoke, burning pine. Smoke. It reminded her of why they had to do this ceremony, and, taking a deep breath in an attempt to steady her nerves, she stepped out and walked over. The only sounds were the crackling of the flames and the quiet rustling as Shiraishi finished her preparations.

The priest heard her approaching, and looked round, immediately breaking into a warm smile.

“The vestments suit you, Akiko.” Akiko smiled back, but she could feel that it was a bit lacking in enthusiasm. Shiraishi seemed to notice. “Well, anyway, kneel here.” She indicated a mat directly in front of the himorogi. Akiko stepped out of the sandals at the edge of the mat and knelt, settling herself.

The flickering light of the fires made the sakaki branch seem to shimmer, as the leaves shivered in the breeze. The light glittered on the brocade bag at its base, the bag containing the go-shintai. Beyond the himorogi, the firelight danced over the stones of the iwakura, making them look almost alive. Despite the warmth of the fires, Akiko shivered.

Now that she had decided, she had to take responsibility for actually doing something. But what? What should she do?

“Takamanoharanikamizumarimasu…” Shiraishi started the purification prayer, and Akiko bowed her head. After the ohnusa was waved over her, Shiraishi knelt in front of the himorogi, and called Tamao, her long, drawn out “oh” eerily loud in the night.

“Kakemakumokashikomi…” Akiko could pick out a few parts of the norito, as Shiraishi introduced her to Tamao, like he didn’t know her already, and said something Akiko didn’t quite catch about her suitability to be a miko. The priest asked Tamao to look favourably on his new miko, to bring her happiness, calm, and growth.

That would make a nice change, Akiko thought, and then chastised herself for getting distracted.

Shiraishi picked a tamagushi, a small sakaki branch with shide attached, up from a table off to one side, and called Akiko forward to present it to the kami. Akiko stepped back into the sandals, and took the branch. Standing directly in front of the himorogi, she held it vertically up in front of her.

“I will serve as a miko here, Tamao,” she murmured, quietly enough that, she hoped, Shiraishi could not hear. “I will stand between you and the people of Kawasaki, and, so far as it is in my power, neither you nor the kegare will harm them. This I swear.”

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Akiko turned the tamagushi so that the stem was towards the himorogi, and placed it carefully on the table, before taking one step back, bowing twice, clapping twice, and bowing again. She felt surprisingly calm again, and glanced at Shiraishi, who nodded.

Akiko walked over to the table at the side, bowing her head as she crossed in  front of the himorogi, and picked up the first offering tray, the one with rice on. She handed it to Shiraishi, who took it and placed it on the table in front of the himorogi. Between them, they put the rest of the offerings there, and then Akiko knelt again, on a mat off to one side, while Shiraishi started reading another norito, this one calling on Tamao to be calm and at peace.

As the words continued, Akiko found herself acutely aware of her surroundings. She could feel the uneven ground even through the tatami mat she was kneeling on, pressing into her knees. The heat from the fires fell on the skin of her face, making her cheeks flush red, and her vestments gradually became warmer against her skin. The wind in her hair seemed playful, scattering strands around so that they tickled her forehead, her cheeks, her nose.

The crackling of the fires seemed to fall into time with the cadences of the norito, and the scent of pine sap became stronger, combining with the smell of smoke. The sounds and smells of the city faded away entirely. Akiko glanced up, and the clear sky was studded with thousands of stars, the milky way stretched across it like a belt. She looked down again, at the dancing shadows within the rocks of the iwakura, and then at the shadows of the sakaki on the iwakura, playing across the go-shintai in its bag, making it look as if it was moving.

The mouth of the bag widened, and Tamao’s head, tiny, emerged, swaying in time to a rhythm that Akiko could not hear, but that the flames seemed to take up. He emerged entirely, coiling on the platform and raising his head, still swaying. Akiko could feel the rhythm now, beating gently in her blood, in her bones, making her spine tingle. Tamao looked at her.

And leapt.

The snake came straight towards her face, and then vanished. Akiko could feel something warm and heavy around her neck, though, and the rhythm was stronger now, throbbing in her guts. She suddenly realised that she had begun swaying in time to it, and she tried to stop.

She couldn’t.

“…kashikomikashikomimomosu.” As Shiraishi finished the norito Akiko’s arms reached down, pressing against the floor as she bent down. There was a surge of panic as Akiko realised that she was not moving her own body.

Then the rhythm washed through her, sweeping away all other thought, all other feelings, sweeping her up on to her feet, and then up further into the air, springing and spinning, dancing as the rhythm dictated. She could hear it now, the throb of great drums, the whisper of thousands of small bells, and then, over it all, the thin, pure note of a flute.

She was vaguely aware of leaping in front of Shiraishi and dancing before the himorogi, moving in ways that seemed natural, new, and long-practised, all at once. She spun to take the tamagushi back from the table, holding it up in one hand as she danced.

Her feet pounded the ground, weaving their own rhythm in with that of the drums, and light flashed from her footsteps, brighter and brighter, competing with the firelight, the stars shining ever brighter overhead as she spun round the himorogi, touching the poles holding the shimenawa, shocks coursing up her arms as she did so, the tamagushi now trailing light behind it as she swept it around her, light that hung in the air, shifting, in ribbons, ribbons that became curtains, curtains that surrounded the himorogi, Akiko, and Shiraishi, marking the edge of the sacred space.

Akiko moved even faster, her breathing still calm and unhurried as she swept the tamagushi through the air around the sakaki branch on the platform. It began to tremble and pulse, as if there was something within it, something trying to get out.

A shout burst from her lips as she leapt into the air, spinning, her fingers scattering light as the flute swept ever higher. She landed on the other side of the himorogi and leapt again, spinning through the air to land behind Shiraishi, and then spring up again, to land on the other side, thrusting the tamagushi towards the iwakura. A flare of light from within the rocks answered, visible even through the curtains of light that still flickered around them.

She was singing, she realised. Singing words she did not know, to a tune she had never heard before that was somehow utterly familiar. The tempo of the song got faster and faster, its melody soaring and plunging, but Akiko’s voice never faltered. This was her role.

She stopped, abruptly, sinking to her knees between the himorogi and the iwakura, looking at the table. The exhilaration still coursed through her, but she was entirely still, even her breath bated as she waited. The sakaki branch was pulsing more strongly now, light burning within it as the ripples of the bright curtains fell into step.

An arrow of light swept up through the branch, shattering it  and the platform with a crack. In its place was Tamao, coiled within the shimenawa, his scales shining red, green, purple, gold and silver in the light from the curtains, his eyes shining still more brightly than the stars.

Akiko fell forward, bowing her face to the ground once, twice. Sitting straight, she clapped. The first was a roll of thunder, the second the roar of an earthquake. She bowed once more, and straightened up to look Tamao straight in the eyes.

I am not afraid any more.

“Bright Child, hear and speak!”

Tamao.

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