Gyakkyou: Synopsis + Prologue (Patreon)

Synopsis

"Hanpa-mono! Gyakkyou is a mixblood!"

...That alone is reason enough to kill an infant in its crib.

-

In the civilized lands of the Ryū Dynasty, the Akaoni are property, the Kuroji are the blessed people, and the Tenshi are their divine masters.

And whosoever seeks to upset this delicate balance—however unintentionally—is undeserving of life.

Fortunately for Gyakkyou, all he has to do to keep his head is to simply...

Live a lie.

"Never rock the boat," the Witch warned.

"Have no ambition...

"Lurk."

Alas, the Fates, in all their ancient, undying wisdom, did not seem to agree with the crone.

Prologue

“Great Sage, I believe I am with child.”

Kuzunoha beheld the maid who made such a ludicrous claim. For a moment, she was amused: Surely, this must be some manner of jest.

Alas, the old witch’s mirth did die an early death, for when her mind eye opened she saw; indeed this girl was with child. 

Impossible, Kuzunoha thought to herself. The crone might have been ancient, but her kind were not the sorts to go senile with age. “When your master last took you,” she asked the maid, “did I not feed you the ashes of the Root of Yomi?”

“Yes, you did, Great Sage.” 

Kuzunoha nodded. “Surely then, you must since have laid with another besides the imperial son? How else can you be with child?”

“I wouldn’t dare!” the girl exclaimed, falling to her knees in a Dogeza as she paled at the insinuation; Had she indeed laid with another, the clan would have the girl’s head on a pike before nightfall, that much was certain. Kuzunoha could scarcely imagine anyone foolish enough to take such a risk for rewards as worthless as the pleasures of the flesh. Alas, she could not truly claim this with any certainty.  One does not go through life without encountering some manner of profound stupidity.

The old witch’s eyes remained narrowed in suspicion; If the girl spoke the truth and had indeed not dishonoured the imperial son, how then was she pregnant? Yomi only ever grew where death persisted. It had no love for the living nor would it stand to see more life be brought into existence. Yet, having consumed the ashes of such an insidious plant, this one conceives? How?

An intriguing conundrum, indeed.

“Follow me,” Kuzunoha instructed as she turned to return to her hut. It was spring; cherry blossoms painted the fields with fleeting clouds of pink and white, their petals drifting like snowflakes upon the streams and hills. Kuzunoha’s abode stood quietly amidst the bloom, and from its serene courtyard, the fragrance of fresh blooms mingled with the scent of burning incense.

Entering the hut, the old witch deposited the basket of herbs she had been gathering from her garden by the door before turning her attention to a cupboard at the back of the room. “What do you call yourself, child?” Kuzunoha asked, rummaging through the vials of elixir she had stored.

“Sato Nozomi, Great Sage.”

“...Good name. Hopefully, it serves you well.” 

The witch pinched the neck of a slender, glass vial, lifting it from the cupboard as she squinted. Grey eyes struggled to discern the label on the bottle in the dim light of the room. Eventually, Kuzunoha handed the vial over to the girl. 

“Drink this,” she ordered.

The maid meekly accepted the elixir offered. With a hesitant expression, she uncorked the container before quickly ingesting the murky liquid within. 

For a long moment, nothing happened. Yet, just as it seemed the medicine was ineffective, the maid, Nozomi, bowled over and began screaming in pain. Baffled, Kuzunoha watched as the poison fought to relieve the girl of the burdens of motherhood, yet the infant within resisted twice as furiously, purging itself and its mother of the essence seeking to end it. 

Nozomi vomited moments later, expelling the valuable elixir Kuzunoha had fed her. 

“...What happened, Great Sage?” Nozomi asked as she struggled to regain her breath.

The old witch met the maid’s confused gaze. Perhaps the girl had indeed been truthful, as only one of prime Tenshi lineage could display such dominion over the arcane. Yet, even still, it was unheard of for a fetus barely developed to be capable of instinctively resisting poisons of this calibre. 

It was at that moment that Kuzunoha remembered the child’s mother was a lowly Kuroji maid. If his father was indeed Hōshi Ryūshirō then this child was a mixblood. 

Hanpa-mono. 

A creature to be despised from birth, regardless of how endowed it might be.

A dull sadness filled Kuzunoha’s heart. Distraught, she regarded the maid who she now realised was condemned to an unfair demise by no fault of her own. If she was to keep her head, Nozomi could not be allowed to carry the child for much longer. Yet, aborting the fetus was shaping up to be an endeavour that would just as likely end her.

Any poison strong enough to overwhelm the fetus would have long killed the mother before its effects even started to show on the child. 

Perhaps, the maid was more perceptive than Kuzunoha gave her credit for. Perhaps, the old crone wasn’t as adept at hiding her emotions as she would like to believe. One would never know. Regardless, Nozomi seemed to sense the hopelessness of her situation and, without hesitation, fell to the old witch’s feet in supplication. 

“Great Sage!” she begged, tears streaming down her face. 

“Save me!”

***

It was in broad daylight, with the afternoon sun beating down on the prosperous people of Fujisawa, that Kuzunoha fled the Asahina clan compound with Nozomi in tow. Their escape was an utterly uneventful affair for it was believed the old witch was running an errand for the daimyō as she was wont to do. 

Later, men would be sent to retrieve the absent pair. They would never be found, eventually presumed dead, and ultimately forgotten.

A month after their escape however, Kuzunoha and Nozomi fled the populated centre of Kiyo Prefecture and settled in the secluded heart of the Hinokuni mountains, a refuge the old witch had discovered on her journeys centuries ago. 

Nozomi was put to bed on a wintry night the following year. Alas, her son’s arrival into the world was marked by ill omens—a moonless night, howling beasts and the scent of death carried upon the winds. 

“Save my son, Great Sage!” the young mother begged as she and her child fought Yomi’s call. Perhaps, the old witch should have ignored the plea and saved the woman instead. Perhaps, Nozomi’s death was a destined one that would have come all the same. One would never know. Regardless, the Kuroji woman passed away that night, leaving behind a beautiful, blue-eyed babe with a head of black hair. 

Hanpa-mono. 

A mongrel.

The boy had faced adversity of the kind that would destroy most, yet triumphed. It seemed fitting, then, the name the old witch bestowed him. 

***

“Gyakkyou!” cried Kuzunoha in admonishment. 

Her charge scrambled away from the ritual circle, giggling as he made off with an iridescent feather. Another ritual was disrupted; that was the third one this month. Each passing day saw the child grow ever more boisterous. It’s been seven years now and Gyakkyou was still growing tall, strong, and lean as Tenshi boys his age ought to. Alas, Kuzunoha knew things could not continue as they have. She had greater obligations to the realm which she had neglected due to her parenting. Yet, she couldn’t just abandon her son to his fate; his life was unfair enough as it was. 

For another year and a half, the witch raised the boy according to the ways of ancient shamans. Gyakkyou was taught the arcane arts, old and obscure knowledge that rotted the soul as much as it enlightened the mind. Hence, on his ninth nameday, the child found himself facing a test of great importance. 

“Time is running out, Gyakkyou,” the old witch warned as the boy scrambled to draw seals on a sheet of tanned rabbit hide with the blood dripping from his left index finger. The talisman was meant to be one that repelled lesser malevolent spirits and yokai. A warding charm.

From where Kuzunoha stood, she could already tell he had made a series of mistakes that had doomed the endeavour. Still, she let him finish before informing him of his failure, to drive home the consequences of his mistakes.

It took seven more days before the child finally succeeded. 

On his ninth nameday, the witch had him summon his own mask. The squirming, cloth-like creature clung to his face before melting into his skin. When his eyes finally blinked open, the hues of blue in them were nowhere to be found. Instead, his gaze displayed a midnight black like that of any pureblooded Kuroji. 

It was then, and only then, that she took him down from the mountains and escorted him to a nearby settlement. There, she entrusted him with the kindly village elder before saying her goodbyes.

“Do not forget to give the mask its due,” Kuzunoha warned. “Ittan-momen is a petty yokai; it will try to kill you if you forget to feed it.”

“Baa-chan,” the boy groaned, distraught, waving away the witch’s exhortations. “Can I not follow you?” 

“Gyakkyou,” Kuzunoha cooed in response, “you know you cannot.”

For a long moment, she simply held the pouting child. Then, as the time to withdraw neared, she gave him her parting words.

"Never rock the boat. Have no ambition. Lurk… 

“This world has no love for your kind, child. Never forget that."