Chapter 2

And, it seemed, I had done what was asked of me.

Outside, it was the dead of night. The infirmary had grown noticeably cold. After the girls left, I had started to sort through my things, but I felt a wave of weakness and ended up spending the entire time until dinner in bed.

I felt terrible; my head was spinning, I was nauseous… the whole package.

Izamu, who looked in on me, threw up his hands, again said something like, "You mustn't do that to your ryoku!" then gave me some more medicine and told me to lie down.

I had no appetite, my eyelids closed on their own, and I passed out.

I woke up a few hours later, when everything was pitch dark. Cicadas chirped, the wind played with the leaves on the trees, and dogs barked somewhere.

I was on the fine line between sleep and wakefulness. I was aware of everything, but at the same time, my thoughts couldn't gain clarity.

Clicks came from somewhere, then a sound as if tense threads were being touched, and... a quiet laugh.

My head spun, and the outlines of the room began to blur.

Someone began to laugh and whisper:

The Ze-u Clan counts the stars at night,

The Yuichi Clan gathers the light.

The Shenghai Clan plays with thunder and squalls,

The Ikeda Clan answers the calls.

A searing wave shot down my spine.

I know those lines.

Long, long ago, in childhood, when the fire crackled in the fireplace, the room smelled sweet and stuffy, and my mother's warm hand touched my cheek, this little rhyme was recited.

I sat up abruptly, and a gust of icy wind immediately seized my body.

The walls of the room instantly dissolved into nothing. The floor melted, and the bed crumbled into white dust.

I was surrounded by an impenetrable darkness, thick and horribly inky. My heart pounded like crazy, and my throat tightened. Was I going crazy? Or were Izamu's medicines not working as intended?

The darkness blazed with thousands of tiny sparks, swirling in a mad dance. After a couple of seconds, I realized that although there was nothing under my feet, I was standing on what felt like a solid surface.

And below me, a dark forest stretched out, the blue tops of fir trees reaching directly for the sky, and the curved roofs of pagodas seemed frozen in timelessness. A tall wall with towers partially enclosed the buildings from the forest, but not everywhere. The buildings... people clearly lived in them, but something told me they weren't just for families; they were...

"Schools!" a realization flashed. "They are the same kind of schools as our Gozen!"

And this place was called the Border. I knew for sure, the Border. The very one that, according to Izamu, Koji could have sent me to.

Clicks sounded behind me.

I turned.

A figure wrapped in a shimmering purple cloak stood a few steps away. The cloak seemed to be woven by a thousand spiders from threads that shimmered with light. I could only make out the figure's outlines, but I couldn't properly see the details.

The hood hid her face; her features could only be partially seen. A certainty arose from somewhere that this was a woman. She was so beautiful one could give up their soul to God. She was so hideous she was used to scare children.

Her hands were not hidden by the cloak; her fingers were disproportionately long, and from their tips stretched long threads that fell somewhere into the darkness. But if you looked closely, you could see metal knitting needles between her fingers. They were what flipped the threads and clicked each time they touched.

A shiver ran down my spine from those clicks, and my breath caught in my lungs. Because there was nothing human about this being. It was beautiful and, at the same time, monstrous. Beautiful with the cold beauty of the stars and horrible with the blackness of the abyss, from which there was no escape.

The Hostess of Fate, the Mistress of Roads without end or beginning.

The one who spoke to me last night.

The Weaver.

My legs gave way on their own, and I fell to my knees, bowing before the goddess.

She approached silently.

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"Rise, my child," the Weaver said in a strange, otherworldly voice: a mix of a bell's chime and the echo of an underground cavern. "I am not angry."

The thread-fingers touched my hair; a gust of wind carried the scent of frost and raw meat. The Weaver's body was not visible through her clothing, but if there had been any curiosity before, it had now vanished. I didn't want to know what the Weaver looked like without her cloak of threads.

I didn't want to know what it was.

I slowly raised my head and looked at the goddess. I felt no threat.

She tilted her head, and the folds of her hood rippled. For a moment, her inhuman eyes flared like hot coals.

"Rise," she repeated.

I stood up, my gaze fixed on her.

"May I ask questions?"

"You are already asking them."

Yes, that was awkward.

Taking this as an approval, I took a deep breath and blurted out:

"Who am I?"

A quiet chuckle, and the threads, like snakes, flowed over the Weaver's fingers.

"You are Aska of the Shenghai Clan, a sixteen-year-old maiden, without a dowry, a loner. You don't know how to control your tongue, which is why you are always getting into trouble. You are a pagoda without a roof."

This was not the answer I had hoped for. However, it was a little better than nothing. The Weaver understood this perfectly, but she was playing with me like a cat with a mouse. It was infuriating, but at the same time, I realized that I had already gone too far once.

She began to circle me unhurriedly. Slowly, step by step, as if trying to study me from all sides.

"You are offended with all of Taiyoganori, believing that the empire took your family. You drove your curator to a white-hot fury, boasting that you would say everything you thought to the Weaver's face—that is, to mine. And also..."

"Also?" I echoed, not daring to take a breath.

"You died."

My eyes widened as I tried to comprehend what I had heard.

"You died over there, far, far away," the Weaver continued. "In another world that can never be reached. Your body perished, but your spirit was strong. While the Aska from here only ever heard of the strength of spirit and wasted her ryoku carelessly."

Died. Died. Died.

I couldn't process it. The words were there—the meaning wasn't sinking in. It was hard to believe you were dead when you could breathe, feel, and think. Well... I'd deal with this emotional part later.

"What is ryoku?" I finally breathed out. "And who am I?"

"You will find out about yourself later," she chuckled. "When you complete your mission. And ryoku..."

The glowing threads floated through the air and touched my wrist. My blood seemed to flare with fire, and a hot flush spread through me. My skin felt transparent; I could clearly see the pattern of my veins, glowing purple.

"Ryoku is a gift, Aska," the Weaver said. "A power that can and must be used by members of the clans. But it must be done wisely, not like some people do."

I was mesmerized as the purple light shone brighter and brighter. My body felt lighter; I wanted to laugh from the power that was surging through me. It felt like I could simply take a step and appear on the horizon. And then, like a comet, I could return in the blink of an eye.

I could do anything. I could do it all!

I could physically feel the ryoku swirling and sparkling in currents of infinite energy.

The Weaver touched my wrist with an icy needle. The power instantly ebbed away, leaving a wild emptiness. I swayed but remained standing.

"That is what it can be, Aska. But it requires training and experience. What is given easily is not valued."

Without waiting for my answer, she gestured with her hand to the side.

"Look!"

Right beyond the forest, everything was filled with a thick darkness. But then I saw red flashes. They appeared and disappeared, obedient to some unknown rhythm. The color red seemed strangely vile and repulsive.

The Weaver appeared behind my shoulder. Her icy breath burned my neck.

"Those are the tsumi, Aska. The task of the warriors of Taiyoganori is to defend the Border and not let the tsumi reach the people. The task of the schools is to learn how to destroy tsumi."

"Or die?" I responded, frowning.

"Or die. The schools are for those who have no one to protect them. Those who have nowhere to go. But who have not yet lost their honor and pride and dream of being useful to their clan. Or simply to the people of the empire."

"That sounds like a not-very-humane training," I remarked.

The Weaver didn't answer, apparently deciding that it was not her concern. She just stood there beside me. My back felt cold. Because a being born in some unknown way was so close. And I myself was suspended in the air among shining stars.

"Those who are not part of a clan are an unnecessary burden on the empire," the Weaver spoke again. "In the schools, almost everyone is like that. That's why it's a game of life and death here. If you can survive, you will get your regalia back. If not, then no."

A strange system. It was hard to figure out on the spot.

The black and red mass below me sighed, rolling like a huge wave, as if it were a single organism.

I shivered. Tsumi is the sin. And I wouldn't be surprised if these creatures not only have a physical origin, but also something like a reincarnation of human vices.

Frowning, I glanced at the Weaver. These thoughts were clearly not mine. Was she putting them in my head on purpose?

For a second, a crooked smile flickered in the slit of her hood. The goddess was pleased with my quick wit.

She moved toward one of the schools and beckoned me to follow. Understanding nothing, I followed her.

"You see, Aska, unlike your predecessor, you are not lacking in brains. So, don't disappoint me."

It would be nice if you, my lady, would also explain what is what. She had complimented me, but I knew perfectly well that I was as helpless as a newborn kitten. I was completely ignorant of the local customs, rules of behavior, intricacies, and... well, everything.

The Weaver pointed to a building made of white brick. Even in the darkness, it was lighter than the others.

"That is the Gozen School, Aska. And this..." she gestured toward a building across a plot of land. "...is the Tokugawa School. Your main enemy is there. If you can outplay him, you will leave here whole and take on your clan."

"My clan?" I clarified.

"The Shenghai Clan entrusted itself to one person," the Weaver continued as if she hadn't heard my question. "Therefore, your goal is not the school; your goal is to gain your freedom and become a full-fledged member of the clan."

The metal needles chimed. She laced her thread-fingers together, and they immediately flashed a bright scarlet.

It was painful to look; I squeezed my eyes shut. Tears ran down my cheeks.

My left wrist burned and was squeezed with such force that it felt like the bone would break. I cried out.

"Pfft... Humans are so fragile, I always forget," the Weaver scoffed. "Fine, here's a little gift for you; let it be my blessing."

I barely managed to move my hand, which was now entwined from elbow to wrist with a thick, intricate cord. It burst into flame, and I shrieked in pain. A moment later, there was no trace of the cord, but a network of thin scars covered my entire skin.

"My kumihimo will give you strength and protect you from minor mischief," the Weaver said as if nothing had happened. "In return, you will give me..."

A rustling sound came from somewhere. She listened and, leaving me, quickly moved away down the star-flecked road.

I couldn't even move, so I had to shout:

"What in return?"

"You'll bring me the head of a tsumi," came the reply.

Well, isn't that just perfect.