The children watched her out of the corners of their eyes as Daichi resumed speaking, whispering to each other and pointing when they thought she wasn’t looking. Rumor about her battle with the oni had obviously spread, just as Kaori promised, and the youngsters peered at her with a mixture of open fascination and slack-jawed awe. Buruu growled whenever he felt little eyes on him, and most of the children had the common sense to avoid his gaze.
“And so it was, after many dark trials, great Lord Izanagi found the entrance to Yomi.” Daichi leaned back and took a sip of water, his voice rough as sandpaper. “The Devil Gate, here in these very mountains. And there in the underworld’s pitch black and endless cold, deep enough to freeze a man’s flesh from his very bones, he found his beloved. He could not see her face, but he could hear her voice, felt the touch of her lips on his own. His heart swelled, and he knew her for his wife, and her voice drifted in the dark like the sweetest perfume.
“ ‘You must not look on me, my love,’ she said. ‘For the light will draw the hungry dead near, and they are cold as morning frost and fierce as tigers. But lie with me now, like we did when we were young, and the islands of Shima were but a dream in my womb, yet to be born.’
“And so Lord Izanagi lay with his wife, and held her in his arms, and they remembered what it was to be young again—”
“Did they have sex?” A young boy piped up from the front row, eliciting a few sniggers from the older children. Daichi reached out with one quick, calloused hand and tweaked the boy’s nose. Yukiko laughed along with the crowd as the boy yelped in pain.
“Now, you mind your tongue, young Kuon.” Daichi wagged one mahogany-hard finger in the boy’s face. “I have the telling of this tale. When you are my age, you might know better than to interrupt your elders when they are speaking. Until then, my hand will have to serve in place of wisdom. Hai?”
“Hai.” The boy covered his fist and gave a little bow. “Apologies, sama.”
“Tsk, tsk,” Daichi shook his head. “A boy your age should not even know the name of such things, let alone speak of them in public.” The old man took another sip of water. “Now, where was I?”
“In Yomi,” offered a young girl.
“Ah, hai. Yomi.” He leaned forward to heighten the drama, his eyes wide. “The deepest and blackest of the hells, where the hungry dead dwell in cold and silence for all eternity. Why was Lady Izanami there, you might ask, and you would be wise to. For she was not wicked, nor cruel in her life. But these were the earliest days of this land, before the one hell became nine, and before Enma-ō was charged to judge the departed souls of the living. Before that, all of the dead dwelt in the dark and despair of Yomi.
“Lord Izanagi awoke in the blackness, his beloved Izanami still in his arms. And though he knew he was in peril if the hungry dead were to see his light, he longed to look on the face of his wife again. And so, taking the comb from his hair, he lit a flame upon it, and gazed down at his bride. But what he saw was not the face of his love.
“Lady Izanami had become rotten, as the bodies of the dead. Her flesh crawled with worms, and her eyes were empty holes and her tongue as black as pitch. For she had eaten at the hearth of the underworld, and was forever to be touched by death’s hand.”
Several of the younger children gasped. One little girl hid her face in her hands.
“Lord Izanagi was horrified, and cried aloud. And at the sound of his voice, Lady Izanami awoke and saw the burning comb in his hand. Her rage was terrible. She leaped at him, intending to keep him in Yomi, where they would be together always. Lord Izanagi ran, as fast as any god might, pursued by the hungry dead. But the Maker God was swift, and he sealed shut the entrance to the underworld with a mighty boulder, trapping his wife inside. From the other side of the stone, Izanami screamed that she was now with child, and that the demons birthed from her womb would destroy one thousand of Shima’s children every day to punish Lord Izanagi for abandoning her. And her husband replied thus:
“ ‘Then I will give life to fifteen hundred.’ ”
The old man straightened on his stool and cleared his throat, gave a small cough. He swirled a mouthful of water and spat on the decking, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“And there the boulder stayed for a thousand years, trapping all of Yomi’s evil inside it. Until a young and foolish boy . . .” he frowned at Kuon, “. . . moved the boulder aside and let Hell loose on the world again.”
Daichi looked up, fixing Yukiko in those steel-gray eyes. He stared at her for a brief moment, then turned his gaze back to his audience.
“All right, that is enough for one day.”
A universal wail of disappointment went up from the children.
“Aiya, I will tell you more next week. The tale of a great battle, and a greater sacrifice.” He looked around the upturned faces. “The charge of the Stormdancer Tora Takehiko into Devil Gate, and how Yomi was sealed shut once more. Now go on, off with you. Mind your parents and see to your chores!”