Ever since he was a child, Natsuhiko’s mother had always told him his name was special. He was born in summer, under the moon of the eighth month. His birth occurred only a day after his mother had escaped the surging waves of the sea. Without warning, the ocean had stormed the land, crashing and ravaging through their small village.
A great number of people had died that day. But Natsuhiko’s mother said that because he was growing inside of her, the gods had protected the two of them.
They had escaped up a hill, where his mother had given birth the next day, surrounded by the swallowed land and black water.
On summer days such as this, Natsuhiko recalled the story his mother had told him. As he gripped the arrow between his fingers, he wondered how special he was.
The bowstring of his yew bow snapped, sending the arrow shooting forward towards the squealing boar.
The animal charged, spittle flying from its bared teeth and the musk of its sweat reaching Natsuhiko’s nostrils.
Tearing into the air, the arrow landed with a thud between the black eyes of the boar. It did little to halt the animal’s charge, however. The creature squealed even louder, moving forward at a greater speed. The shaft of the arrow drug against the ground as Natsuhiko dove out of the way, the tusks of the beast missing his leg by centimeters.
He grabbed for the knife on his belt, readying himself for the boar to turn back around on him. As it moved, the animal lost its footing in the damp mud of the summer forest, and Natsuhiko didn’t hesitate.
He lunged forward, stabbing the knife into the blackness of the boar’s iris. The beast cried out, its scream sending the birds from their perch in the nearby trees.
Then, silence.
Natsuhiko fell back, his shoulders heaving, heart slamming against his ribcage. He stared at the creature, half expecting it to rise and move again. He waited for a few more moments, and then it came.
From the body of the animal, a black smoke rose. The shadow of the trees hid the faint wisps at first, but it soon thickened, streaming up to the canopy of leaves and blotting out the light that shone through.
He sighed, getting up to his feet and examining the smoke. It dissipated just as quickly as it appeared, a rancid odor clinging to the grass and the trees that it touched. It was the third time he had seen the smoke after he hunted in the forest. He wasn’t sure what it was, and the five hungry stomachs of his family members didn’t much care to listen to his stories if he came home empty-handed.
He set to butchering the animal, carefully separating meat from pelt and bone. The wind swept through the forest as he worked. The warmth of the day forcing its way through the trees despite the fading afternoon. In the distance, the ocean waves crashed on the rocky shore of the coast. Only the hawks overhead caught the faint sound among that of the woods.
Sweat littered his brow and soaked through his work robes. He packed the meat into the sack and threw it over his shoulder. With a shaky breath, he gave one last look at the forest before heading down the path towards his home.
“Onī-chan!1” his little sister, Saya, yelled when she saw him coming up over the hill.
Natsuhiko waved to her, adjusting the bag of meat on his left shoulder. “Did you help okāsan2 today?” he asked.
Saya, who was only six years old, nodded. “I washed the clothes.”
Natsuhiko patted her on the head, his rough fingers feeling her soft hair and sun warmed scalp. “Thanks for that. Keep it up.”
He made his way through the garden, stepping onto the raised wooden platform that his home sat on. Inside, his mother and other siblings spread themselves across the rush-straw mats, weaving colored threads together. Besides Natsuhiko’s hunting spoils and the vegetables of the family garden, the family’s other primary source of income were the woven garments his mother had taught all of them to make. They traded them to the other villagers for rice in the fall and firewood in the winter.
“Onī-chan is home!” Saya announced to the family, rushing past Natsuhiko and onto his mother’s lap.
His mother smiled, her dark eyes lighting up when she saw him. “Another one? You hunt too well. We won’t have room to store all of this.”
Natsuhiko set the sack down with an exhale. “Well, I don’t think I will go back there for a while. Something is going on in that forest lately.”
“What do you mean?” his mother asked over Saya, who played with the wooden pin in her hair.
He hesitated. “I’m not sure. When I kill the animals, something comes out of them…”
“That’s called blood, onī-chan.” Natsuhiko’s younger brother, Routa, chided as he came to sit next to him.
He shoved his brother on the shoulder. “Thanks for the explanation.” His other siblings gathered about, asking Natsuhiko about the boar and his hunting. His mother was now occupied with preparing the food for the coming days, so he dropped the conversation about the forest.
He spent the rest of the afternoon helping his siblings weave the patterns with the thread. They ate a modest meal of rice and dried fish and then strolled to the bathhouse. Their small town was nameless, sitting on the outskirts of the forest. One dirt road cut through the middle of the wooden homes and stores, but hardly anyone outside of the villagers came to the place.
A lantern and a small carved sign signaled the next square wooden building as the bathhouse. Natsuhiko stepped into the men’s side with his brothers, while his mother and sister went to the women’s.
As he slipped into the stone tub, the hot water stinging the places where the thorns and nettles of the forest had cut his skin, he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly the black smoke was.
After about an hour, they made their way back home. The daylight faded, but the late summer air wafted hot through their small house. When the rhythmic breaths of his brothers and sisters told Natsuhiko that they were asleep, he rose from his place on the straw mat. He tried not to make a sound, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the shadow cast on the rice paper door.
Someone was outside.
He stepped over his mother, to where his knife rested against the wall.
“Natsu…” his mother said as she startled awake.
Natsuhiko held up his finger to his mouth, pointing towards the shadow. His mother’s eyes widened, and she fell silent.
He grabbed at the door, sliding it open with one swift movement, his knife outstretched in front of him. The shadow moved quickly. He caught sight of a woman’s smile, and then she ran towards the forest.
Natsuhiko chased after her. Despite the cries of his mother, he had to know. This woman must be connected to the forest. Were the spirits playing tricks on him? Why were they here?
His bare feet pounded the soft grass. The woman ran fast, but Natsuhiko kept up with her. She entered the canopy of trees, disappearing into the pitch blackness.
Hesitating, Natsuhiko tried to make out her shape among the tree trunks, but he could see nothing. His breath came heavy, and the knife in his hand shook. He swallowed, his throat dry and ragged, and then he headed into the forest.
Despite the darkness, Natsuhiko had hunted in this wood since he was a child, and so he made his way through to the first clearing, avoiding the hanging branches and the small holes that littered the path. The light of the moon glistened in the sky, illuminating the clearing and the woman who stood in the center of the grass.
Natsuhiko emerged from the trees, sweat dripping down his brow. His heart pounded with nerves as he approached the woman.
“Who are you? Why were you at our home?” he called to her.
The woman, who had been looking upward towards the sky, met his eyes.
Natsuhiko’s heart fell into his stomach. Her eyes were depthless pools of black. She wore a white robe, but what he thought had been a shadow was actually her skin. It was a deep blue, and her hair shone white like the moon.
“You question me, child?” The woman’s lips didn’t move, but her voice radiated in Natsuhiko’s skull.
He grabbed at his head, dropping the knife. “Who are you…” he repeated.
A sound, like the rushing of water, tore through the forest. Before he could move, the woman was in front of him, the pooled blackness of her eyes staring into Natsuhiko’s soul.
“Your kind calls me, Sui.” She paused, her head tilting. Her white hair fell over the blue skin of her cheek. “You were meant to die that day.”
Natsuhiko fell back into the grass, his eyes widening with terror.
“The day my waters surged through the land. You were meant to die that day, but she saved you.”
The woman lifted her arm, the robe of her sleeve falling to her elbow. Her pointed fingers swirled in the air. Water crashed through the trees, snapping bark and roaring as it engulfed the wildlife.
Natsuhiko scrambled to his feet as the forest flooded with the terror of the ocean.
A respectful term meaning “older brother.”
A respectful term meaning “mother."