The fifth year of Emperor Bidatsu’s reign, Kisaragi. The upper reaches of the Hii River, Oku-Izumo.
The mountains ran deep.
Countless streams branched off from the main course of the Hii River and wound farther into the mountains. Forests of cedar and cypress covered the streams, and sunlight filtering through the leaves dyed everything green. The sound of water never ceased. It bit into rocks, washed over moss, fell, pooled, and flowed onward again.
Two Tengu were making their way upstream along one of those streams.
Hayakiki and another young Tengu. Their woven hawk-feather garb snagged on branches, and moss made the rocks beneath their feet slippery. They were not mountain Tengu. They were Tengu of the roads linking one village to another.
“Are you sure this is the right stream?”
The young Tengu asked.
“It is. One day over the mountain from Kaku-kari Village. The village lies beyond a different stream.”
Hayakiki answered without stopping. The load on his back was heavy: melons, cucumbers, and watermelons bought in a village along the way; game purchased from mountain hunters; and three gourds filled with sake.
The final village on their journey around the villages of the Six Kowakuni Clans.
Kaku-kari, Yama, Ame-taka, Garan, Naja. They had visited five villages and delivered official summonses to five princesses. Only one remained: Fuchi-kami Village.
But Fuchi-kami Village was different from the others.
Officially, it did not exist.
It appeared on no map, had no road, and bore no marker indicating its entrance. Somewhere along one of the countless streams flowing into the Hii River was a waterfall, and behind that waterfall was a cavern accessible only from the water. The Fuchi-kami Clan lived there.
Hayakiki knew where it was. Its location had been recorded in an old Imibe record. But reading about a place and actually walking through the mountains to find it were two different things.
By the time the sun began to sink, they saw the waterfall.
It was a great waterfall. It plunged down a rock face in three tiers, the final drop pouring into a deep pool. Mist rose from the water, and a rainbow arched through it. The roar of the falls filled the valley, drowning out the calls of birds and the sound of the wind.
The pool was deep, its bottom invisible. The water shifted from blue to azure, then from azure to black as ink.
Hayakiki set down his load on the riverbank before the pool.
“Here.”
“Here? But there’s no one here.”
“They’re here. In the water.”
The young Tengu peered into the pool and tilted his head.
Hayakiki piled stones on the riverbank and lit a fire. Dry cedar branches caught readily. Once the fire was burning steadily, he skewered pieces of game and held them over the flames. Fat dripped down, sending smoke rising. The smell of roasting meat mingled with the stream’s damp air.
He cut open a melon, set out cucumbers, and submerged the watermelon in the cold stream water.
He opened a sake gourd and handed one to the young Tengu.
“Drink.”
“…What are you doing?”
“Having a feast.”
Hayakiki took a swig of sake and called out.
“I’m Hayakiki of the Imibe, and I’ve arrived! I’ve brought gifts. We have melons, cucumbers, and watermelons. We have game, too. And sake. People of Kahaku, won’t you drink with us?”
His voice was swallowed by the roar of the waterfall.
Hayakiki shouted again, even louder.
“We have melons! Watermelons, too!”
Silence. Only the sound of the waterfall answered.
Hayakiki paid it no mind. He roasted meat, drank sake, and bit into a melon. The young Tengu began drinking as well, apparently resigned to the situation.
The firelight illuminated the riverbank as the darkness of the stream deepened. The stars came out.
Who knew how much time had passed?
The surface of the pool rippled.
It was not a fish. Nor was it a waterfowl. Something was rising from the bottom of the water.
A head.
A human head.
Black hair spread across the surface. Then a forehead appeared, followed by a pair of eyes. From the dark water, two eyes reflected the light of the fire.
Hayakiki did not move. He watched the pool as he drank his sake.
Another head rose. Then another. And another.
Four, five, six. Human heads lined the surface of the water. Everything below their noses remained submerged. Only their eyes watched the fire on the riverbank.
The young Tengu reached for the sword at his waist.
“Don’t touch them.”
Hayakiki’s voice was low.
“Don’t show hostility. Wait.”
The eyes on the surface watched the fire for a while.
At last, one of them climbed out of the water.
It was a man. Tattooed scales covered his lean body. He wore nothing but a cloth wrapped around his waist. Water ran down his skin, gleaming in the firelight.
The man stood on the riverbank and looked at Hayakiki.
Hayakiki rolled a melon toward him.
“Eat.”
The man picked up the melon, sniffed it, and took a bite.
Seeing that, the heads on the surface began rising from the water one after another. Women. Children. Elders. People emerged from the water in a steady stream and climbed onto the riverbank.
The people of Fuchi-kami.
A people descended from Kahaku. They lived in the water and saw the world from within it. Their skin bore scale tattoos; they could open their eyes underwater, hold their breath for long periods, and made their homes in caverns at the bottoms of rivers.
Melons were passed around, cucumbers were passed around, and meat was roasted. Children swarmed the watermelon, while the elders sniffed the sake and narrowed their eyes.
Hayakiki laughed.
“I’m an envoy of the Imibe. I’ve brought an official summons. But first, let’s drink.”
The people of Fuchi-kami knew sake. They did not brew it themselves, but sometimes received it from the mountain people. The gourd went around, and a circle of people formed around the fire.
When the feast had warmed up, Hayakiki handed the official summons to the Fuchi-kami Elder.
The Elder was an old man. White hair fell to his waist, and scale tattoos covered his entire body. His body, having spent decades in the water, moved differently from that of a land-dweller. His joints were supple, and his breathing was deep and slow.
“Bring the princesses of the Six Kowakuni Clans to Tachibana Palace of Asuka.”
The Elder read the wooden tablet and nodded.
“Mizuwa. Suiren. Come.”
The surface of the water split apart.
Two girls rose from the pool.
Mizuwa. Seventeen. Her long black hair, heavy with water, clung to her back and gleamed in the firelight. A fierce light burned in her narrow, slanting eyes. She was a princess of the Fuchi-kami Clan. The Mizumidama Necklace swayed at her chest, an ancient necklace woven from jade and pearls—the heirloom passed down through generations of Fuchi-kami princesses.
Suiren. Fourteen. Smaller than her sister, she stood half-hidden behind Mizuwa. Wet hair fell across her face, and she blinked anxiously in the firelight.
Hayakiki told them the contents of the official summons.
Asuka. Tachibana Palace. The princesses of the Six Kowakuni Clans were to gather there.
Something changed in Mizuwa’s eyes.
The eyes that had been gazing into the depths of the dark pool now looked beyond the fire, beyond the mountains, farther still.
“I want to go.”
Mizuwa spoke.
Before Hayakiki could open his mouth, she said it again.
“I want to go. I want to meet the princesses of the Six Kowakuni Clans.”
Her voice brimmed with excitement. The girl who had lived in the water and glimpsed the world from within it was about to leave the water for the first time.
“What is the princess of Kaku-kari like?”
“She’s the girl who captured a dragon. Fourteen. Straightforward, and loud.”
“What about the princess of Naja?”
“She cultivated rice. Fifteen. A persistent girl.”
“And the princess of Garan?”
“She had feathers given to her by a peacock. Sixteen. Tall and beautiful.”
Mizuwa’s eyes grew brighter with every story she heard.
“I want to meet them. I want to meet everyone.”
Suiren tugged on her sister’s sleeve.
“Sister, am I going too?”
Mizuwa turned and combed her fingers through her younger sister’s wet hair.
“You stay here. I’ll be back soon.”
Suiren puffed out her lips.
“That’s not fair.”
“It is fair. You still have swimming practice left.”
“I can dive already. I can stay underwater longer than you.”
“Don’t lie.”
The sisters’ bickering mingled with the crackle of the fire. The people of Fuchi-kami laughed. Hayakiki laughed, too.
The Elder spoke quietly.
“Mizuwa. Go. I have never seen all six clan princesses gathered in my lifetime. Go and see it with your own eyes.”
Mizuwa bowed deeply to the Elder.
Then she turned back to Suiren.
“I’ll take the necklace with me. Guard the pool while I’m gone.”
Suiren did not nod. She bit her lip and stared at her sister.
Mizuwa placed a hand against her younger sister’s cheek.
“Suiren. Listen to the voice of the water. Wherever I am, the water connects us. Rivers flow into the sea, rain falls on the mountains, and returns to the streams. My voice will travel to you through the water.”
Tears welled in Suiren’s eyes.
“…Promise me. Promise you’ll come back.”
“I promise.”
Mizuwa smiled. The firelight illuminated her wet cheek.
The night deepened.
The people of Fuchi-kami returned to the water, leaving only the glowing embers of the fire on the riverbank. Hayakiki and the young Tengu lay on the bank, gazing at the stars.
Moonlight shimmered on the surface of the pool.
A small ripple appeared.
It was Suiren.
Only the top half of her face broke the surface as she watched the riverbank: the dying embers, the sleeping Tengu, and the mountain ridge beyond them.
Someday, her sister would cross those mountains and leave.
Underwater, Suiren thought of the necklace that had swayed at her sister’s chest. The Mizumidama Necklace, woven from jade and pearls—the mark of a Fuchi-kami princess. That light would soon vanish from this pool.
The water was quiet. The roar of the waterfall did not reach this far.
Suiren closed her eyes. She searched the depths for her sister’s voice, the voice that should still be nearby.
She heard it.
From deep within the pool, inside the cavern, Mizuwa was singing. A low song audible only beneath the water. The lullaby the people of Fuchi-kami sang before going to sleep. The song Mizuwa had always sung to Suiren, ever since she was little.
Suiren listened to the song beneath the water.
Soon, she would no longer be able to hear it.
Suiren sank to the bottom of the pool. Deeper and deeper, as if following her sister’s singing voice.