Print

   Segawa looked out over the harbor. Halfway up Hakodateyama, his view was that of a gull’s, the dark hard blue of the sea deceptively calm as the ships lay at anchor. Black ships, full of gaijin, fire and promise. Though he’d been in Hakodate for twenty-five years, the monk had never been to sea on a ship. He wondered what it would feel like to be standing on the pitching deck of the huge black vessel, with wind and spray as his companions.

“Perhaps I should write a poem,” he thought. “But there is too much to do.” He laughed, marveling at how easily he’d become distracted. “I should return to the temple as a novice.” He put notions of seafaring from his mind, and turned back to the climb. There was a simple trail cut, and he made his way through the scrub to a small clearing. This was the camp where he’d spent the last three days, waiting for his Master to return. Two young men were there, initiate monks from his temple, ancient Shogakuin nestled among the small farms to the north. They were keeping busy tending the small fire and preparing some tea.

“Has there been any signal?” Segawa said. Tokuta, the smaller man, bowed. “No, master,” he said. Segawa looked up at the sun and judged another hour until midday. “There should have been a signal,” he said. He sighed quietly and rolled his neck against the stress he felt. His Master, his friend for almost forty years, was most likely in trouble. “Get your things ready,” he pointed further up the mountain. “We have to go up there.”

The monks had come here to Hakodateyama to bind an Oni, a demon. It wasn’t typical of their duties, which lay more along the path to Enlightenment, but the governor had insisted that this particular Oni be quieted while the gaijin were here on their visit. It wouldn’t do, the monks had been told, for the Oni to have a little fun with the barbarians. That could cause Hakodate, and perhaps the whole prefecture to lose face and perhaps many lives. It had also been hinted that the Shogun himself had declared that where the gaijin went, demons should be bound and quieted, that the two might not see each other and become friendly.

So Segawa and his brothers had come, knowing what to do, but not knowing how to get the job done. 

The younger monks were local and they knew well this Oni. Upon learning that they were going on this mission, they did their best to hide their fears, but almost at once they began whispering between themselves, comparing the stories of their childhoods. Later, packed and walking through the gates of Shogakuin, they were in agreement: This Oni was terrifying. By the time they had reached the foot of Hakodateyama four days ago, they were half-petrified. Enlightenment had become suddenly too dangerous.

Segawa also felt fear. Far older than his charges, he had seen too many Oni in action to think that this small group would be able to do anything more than die in the service of the Emperor. Perhaps, he thought, a poem will be written in our honor. He smiled, then spat. Damn, he thought. I should have said good-bye to Ayumi-chan. Better to die the morning after a good romp. Damn. He was still swearing at himself, thoughts wrapped up in the soft silks of Ayumi’s kimono when he heard the steps of his Master. He turned and bowed.