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Chapter Text

鎌鼬 序の幕

Kamaitachi - Act I

Among the townspeople, it was said that the wind was becoming more and more fierce in the wastelands of Wano. 

Since the reign of Orochi, they said in hushed voices, life had become more difficult; even the wind seemed to have no mercy under the new Shogun's rule. Now the townspeople dressed in heavy layers before going into the wastelands, fearing that the wind and sand would lash their skin. 

Unheeding of this custom, or perhaps unaware of it, two strange men had ventured out into the wastelands without being dressed for the wind. 

From afar, they looked like mere ants crawling across the vast featureless landscape. The wastelands, once a grassy plain, had long been stripped of its vegetation - the soil rendered toxic by dozens of metalworking factories that lined the horizon, fumes dispersing into the late afternoon sky.

Leading the way was a man dressed in Wano attire, in the sense that each piece he wore was a Wano garment. But it was put together in a way that would confound any Wano native - wild blond hair wrangled into a much-too-long sohatsu ponytail; a gaudy men’s kimono, gaping open at the chest, paired with a woman’s obi tied, inexplicably, at the front. The overall effect would have been clownish, if not for the baleful look in the man’s eyes that suggested he would not be shy to wield the long-handled scythes he carried at his back.

But the most offputting thing about him was the perpetual grin that split his face. It was impossible to tell what he was smiling at, surrounded as he was by desolate wasteland; nor did the strained smile make him look happy at all. Every so often a fit of laughter erupted from him, unpleasant and grating to the ear.

Following the laughing man was a much larger man, barrel-chested and sporting a lantern jaw. He was dressed in the style of a foreign land - a modernized changshan robe and a long braid trailing from a heavily stylized queue. His dress, in most parts of the world, would readily be recognized as the garb of the Longarm Tribe. But the populace of Wano had been shut off from the rest of the world for many generations, and to their eyes it would merely register as outsider. He cut a flamboyant, almost ridiculous figure; but his eyes peering out from their spectacles were shrewd and calculating.

The two foreigners walked in silence for a long while, wilfully ignoring each other’s presence. The crunch of footsteps on gravel, and an occasional hiccup of laughter, were the only sounds punctuating the whistling wind. 

The braided man fidgeted, hemmed and hawed in the tense silence. It was evident that he was the type of person who could not stand to have a moment of silence without filling it with chatter.

"God damn it," he finally began in an exaggerated mutter. "I come back to HQ and what do I get the moment I'm onshore? A fucking mission."

The laughing man did not reply, geta crunching steadily on dust and gravel. 

"That nutjob Orochi," doggedly continued the braided man. “What was he thinking, sending me on this mission with you. I swear, the fucker was getting off on sticking us together."

Again, the other man made no sign of assent or dissent.

"Come on, man, you can say what you really think. I know you hate him too - I mean who wouldn’t - but he really burned you, if you know what I’m saying.”

The man in front of him did not respond except with a bout of bitter laughter.

"Jesus Christ, he did a number on you, huh? You know, you were the talk of the town for a while… we just couldn’t believe it, what Orochi did to you…”

The braided man's voice suddenly took on a malicious tone - the thin pretense of sympathy fell away, leaving nothing but outright gloating.

"It’s a shame he fed you that SMILE - I liked you better when you didn't laugh like a lunatic."

Finally the laughing man stopped in his tracks and gazed balefully at his tormentor. His grin was still stretched tightly across his face, but his eyes were opaque with mute resentment.

The braided man, triumphant at having finally gotten a response, held up his hands in mock surrender. "Chill out, man. Oh, you’re real scary when you look at me like that. It's just a joke. Can't you take a damn joke?"

They stayed at a contentious standoff for a few moments.

"Let's get on with it, dude. I'm the mission leader, keep walking.”

The laughing man turned around, as stiff as an automaton, and resumed walking. The braided man resumed his muttering tirade with an added note of brazenness.

"Fucking nutters, all of you. Everyone on this island is nutters. Must be something in the air in this godforsaken place..."

As the miserable droning continued, the wind rose and buffeted the travelers harder and harder. The sand particles cut at the two men's exposed skin, until finally, blood seeped from the cuts on the braided man’s face and the laughing man’s chest.

Something was not normal.

The sun hung just on the verge of setting, but it had not sunk into the horizon for what must have been more than an hour.

The wind had quieted down to an unnatural stillness.

Blood beaded steadily from the two men's cuts without congealing. The little girl, at least, seemed unhurt, keeping up gamely with the longer strides of the two men.

The factories, instead of getting nearer, receded into the distance the more the travelers walked toward them. At this point the factories had disappeared entirely out of sight; nothing could be seen on the horizon but the wasteland stretching in all directions like an infinite chessboard.

The party of three walked in troubled silence, not daring to address the inexplicable distortion of space and time.

"Look, someone's coming from over there," the little girl said suddenly, pointing.

She was right - they spotted something approaching on the totally empty skyline. Like a mirage, a bluish figure in the distance - man or woman, it was difficult to tell, but anything breaking the horizon was a welcome sight.

"Hey!" The braided man called out with evident relief, waving his arms. "Over here! Can you tell us what’s going on here?"

The figure continued its approach, unhurried by the braided man’s call. Gradually its features came into focus. A teal garment embellished with many colored panels; its wearer could be identified as a slight man, though his brocade obi, styled with obijime and obiage, was such that a woman would wear. Ashen hair spilling out from a headcloth, and underneath, a pallid mask of a face stared out.

An expressionless, hooded gaze, outlined with blood-red markings, and a malevolent smile curling the lips. 

The braided man shrank back involuntarily. “Who are you?” He demanded.

The newcomer, now close enough for conversation, finally seemed to acknowledge his new company. He gave a slight bow, which instantly dispelled the uncanny aura that hung around him. He was just a man, they realized, and not an apparition. Even the malevolent smile had been an illusion: his lip was merely painted upwards in a facsimile of a smile.

"Just a humble... medicine seller," intoned the newcomer. He had a slow and halting manner of speech, which carried a curious weight despite its lethargic tone; his introduction seemed punctuated with a sound of chimes.

"Nice getup you have there," commented the braided man warily. "You know, you creeped me out for a second - I guess that face paint is some kind of marketing tactic.”

"It does help with business, I find." The Medicine Seller's eyes roamed over the equally garish costumes of the travelers. "Though I must say that your dress is most unusual as well."

“Unusual my ass, I look just normal - where I come from,” retorted the braided man.

"Forgive me, it is not often that we see foreigners in these parts,” said the Medicine Seller. “I suppose you gentlemen are in the service of the government."

"That's right. Name’s Apoo. Got my own pirate crew, but I'm affiliated with the Kurozumi Shogunate.”

“And your company?”

“Well, guy over there is my underling, I guess. He goes by Kill-- well, I guess he should be called Kamazo now.”

The Medicine Seller’s eyes studied the alleged underling - taking note of the pair of scythes strapped at his back, the voluminous women’s obi tied indecently at his front, the deranged smile straining his face.

And then his gaze flicked to the little girl, also wearing a wide toothy smile.

“And who are you, little girl?” continued Apoo. “I have no idea where you came from, actually. Have I seen you before?”

“My name is O-Toko(おトコ),” she said. “But I’m a girl, not an otoko(男)!” She let out a peal of laughter at her own joke.

“Very funny, kid,” said Apoo indulgently. "Anyway, Medicine Seller, you got something for this bleeding?"

The Medicine Seller took off the peddler’s box he carried at his back, and methodically looked through one of the compartments. 

“I am all out of ointments, I’m afraid, except for toad oil.”

Apoo scoffed. “No thanks, I’ve been here long enough to know that stuff is a scam.”

“Scam is rather a strong word, is it not? I make no claim as to its efficacy - I merely offer toad oil because there is demand for it.”

“Toad oil doesn’t work,” piped up the little girl. “It doesn’t bring people back.”

“Well, I’m not interested in buying anything, but I can pay you if you point us a way outta here.”

“A payment,” echoed the Medicine Seller. 

“Yeah, I got money--” Apoo fished out a rather paltry sack of coins from his pocket-- “well, I’ll give you the rest when we get outta here. Or put in a good word to the authorities, whatever you want.”

“As tempting as your offer is, I fear that it will not be so simple,” said the Medicine Seller.

“Well, if you want something else, I’m up for negotiation.”

“I mean only that we are imprisoned in a realm that is not of the ordinary. Surely you must have noticed… any direction you walk…”

Apoo pursed his lips pensively, finally giving voice to the unspeakable strangeness around him that he could no longer deny. “...Everything keeps getting farther away.”

“Precisely - you are only walking deeper into the trap.”

“So this is a trap? What’s going on here, exactly?”

“It seems… that there is a Mononoke,” stated the Medicine Seller. 

“Mononoke? I don't know what that is?” 

“Evil spirits!” said O-Toko. “They do bad things to people.” 

“You have the general idea,” replied the Medicine Seller, inclining his head toward the little girl. “Spirits, in and of themselves, are beyond good or evil, being incomprehensible to the human mind. But when they are infected with the emotions of humans, they become Mononoke.”

Apoo tapped his foot impatiently. “First toad oil, and now evil spirits. Just tell me straight, what are we supposed to do to get out of here?”

With a creak, the box strapped on top of the Medicine Seller’s pack opened of its own accord. Inside was an ornate dagger, with gemstones set in the hilt and scabbard that gleamed almost audibly. A demon’s head was carved at the pommel, bulbous eyes leering above a simian grin.

“The Mononoke will not let us leave, so we must cut down the Mononoke.”

Apoo’s eyes instantly flashed up behind his spectacles. “I thought it was illegal here to carry swords without authorization?”

He took a menacing step close to the Medicine Seller. “You know, I usually don’t give a shit what the locals get up to. But you’re suspicious. What are you exactly, are you in the resistance?”

“It is just a ceremonial blade - hardly a sword,” spoke Kamazo unexpectedly, who had been silent throughout the whole exchange. His speaking voice was quite dry and measured, totally unlike the deranged sound of his laugh. 

Kamazo picked up the sword without permission, and turned it over in his hand, feeling its weight. “The most it can do is gut a fish.”

If the Medicine Seller felt any offense, he did not betray any, choosing to answer Kamazo in his imperturbable calm tone. “On the contrary: it cuts through the bonds of karma, and releases the Mononoke from human passions - resentment, grief, hatred - thereby returning it to its supernatural origins.”

“Release… from human passions. How convenient,” replied Kamazo. “I should like to try it out.”

“I’m afraid I must ask you to return it - the sword cannot be drawn until the Form, Truth, and Regret of the Mononoke are known.”

Apoo let out a disgusted sigh. “You know what? I just can’t deal with this nutjob talk. Cut the crap, man. You have no idea how to get out of here either, do you?”

“I suppose there is no way to inspire confidence in one who refuses to be helped.” The Medicine Seller turned his cool gaze onto Apoo. “If you would prefer to find your own way, there are an infinite number of directions to choose from.”

Apoo seemed to know when he was beaten, and made a sarcastic flourish. “Fine, dude, lead the way to our Mononoke then.”

“As you wish,” said the Medicine Seller. “First, the sword.”

Kamazo handed the sword over mutely. The Medicine Seller took it back and whispered something, lips moving soundlessly in some kind of private conversation.

A tinkle of bells, and a palm-sized metal contraption that looked vaguely like a butterfly floated onto the Medicine Seller’s hand.

“This will lead the way,” the Medicine Seller announced.

“Ooh, what's this?” Asked O-Toko. “It's moving on its own!”

“It is a Tenbin - a scale. It measures distance.” With a flick of the Medicine Seller’s finger, the scale flew from the Medicine Seller’s hand and onto O-Toko’s.

The scale inclined itself in a gesture reminiscent of a bow. The child bowed back. “Hello, Tenbin-san,” she giggled.

“Watch closely how it tilts - that is the direction of the Mononoke.”

“Okay, so we follow him?”

The Medicine Seller pondered for a beat. “Perhaps we can use some more,” he said.

Dozens of scales poured out of the peddler’s box, far more than it could physically contain, to the delight of O-Toko. The scales arranged themselves on a grid and dropped bells from each side. 

With a subtle chime, they inclined themselves ever so slightly to one direction.

O-Toko ran toward the scales, scattering the scales into the indicated direction like a flock of butterflies. 

She laughed as the scales fluttered around her. A charming enough sight - but the way that her laughter dissipated through the void, without an echo, was uncanny.

“Come on, this way!” She called out.

“At least someone’s having fun,” muttered Apoo grimly.

They followed the flock of scales - how many minutes they walked, it was impossible to tell without any indicators of time. The wind remained completely still, no structure appeared at the horizon, and the orange sun still hung unmoving.

But at some point the travelers became aware that their footsteps had stopped crunching on dry soil, and were instead squelching in mud. In the distance, too, there was a roar of running water that they had not noticed a moment ago.

Apoo seemed to realize it, looking down at the muddy soles of his boots in confusion.

O-Toko, running ahead of them, suddenly disappeared into the ground with a yelp and a splash, and the flock of scales scattered back as if alarmed.

“What the hell?” exclaimed Apoo, and splashed through the mud.

The mud ended abruptly at a stone-lined pool of water. O-Toko hung in the water unmoving, the top of her head just peeking over the surface and the rest of her body disappearing down the murky depths.

The Medicine Seller and Apoo reached into the water and hauled the girl out. For a while she lay on the edge of the water in a corpse-like pallor.

Apoo shook her frantically, until she spat out gushes of water and coughed, which turned into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

“Hey kid, you okay?” demanded Apoo. 

“We’re here,” O-Toko gasped between her laughter.

“Kid, what are you saying?” Apoo looked around, and his eyes widened in shock. “Why is that here?” 

The distant roar of water was suddenly all around them. It was coming from an artificial waterfall, being emptied out into the pool of water - not just any pool of water, it became apparent, but a moat.

For suddenly it had appeared in front of them. Unmistakable to any that lived on the land of Wano, the largest landmark in the country, the seat of the ruling Shogun, Kurozumi Orochi.

Divorced from the Flower Capital and its surrounding streets, Wano Castle rose out of the wasteland and beckoned to the travelers.

Chapter Text

In the wastelands of Wano, there are whirlwinds that cut like blades.

Victims felled willy-nilly, slashed and mangled, carried away by the wind…

Where the wronged becomes the wrongdoer, trapped in an ever-renewing cycle of torment.

鎌鼬 二の幕

Kamaitachi - Act II

The travelers looked up at the enormous structure looming across the moat.

A sturdy wall ringed the inner shore of the water, and inside the wall, an impossibly high stone base rose up out of the grounds. The base, almost as steep as a cliff, was decorated with multiple artificial waterfalls, each strong enough to clear the wall and empty into the moat.

And the multi-tiered Tenshu tower perched atop the base was truly a structure of pomp and splendor, the symbol of the military and economic might of the Shogun. Overhanging the whole structure was a huge curving pine tree, which gave the castle an otherworldly air - almost reminding the viewer of the Jade Emperor’s dwellings from legends of old.

Not only was the Tenshu impenetrably guarded from attack, manned with sentries and sharpshooters in watch towers - but many tales were told of the lavish banquets held all the way at the top of the tower.

Even though much of the country was suffering from prolonged famine, no trace of such poverty could be felt in Wano Castle. The finest rice, beef, fish, sake, and fruits were sourced as tribute from each province of Wano for the Shogun’s banquets, accompanied by songs and dances performed by the top courtesans of the Flower Capital.

The travelers could see that the castle’s windows were lit from inside; they glowed especially bright against the dim late afternoon smog of the Wasteland.

“Is this some kind of illusion?” Wondered Apoo aloud. “It looks just like the real thing… Can it be the real thing?”

“I suppose the only way to tell is to go inside,” said the Medicine Seller drily.

“You can’t just go inside the Castle. Haven’t you ever been to the Capital before?” Scoffed Apoo.

To the travelers’ left, Nishimon Bridge arched quite obviously, painted in festive vermilion. It, too, was a familiar sight to any citizen of the Flower Capital, being one of the twin arched bridges leading into the Castle. 

It was an unspoken rule that only the highest echelons of society could dare to step foot on the twin bridges. Though deeply ingrained custom made them leery of approaching, the travelers walked toward it aimlessly, for lack of anything else to do. Across the bridge Nishimon Gate could be seen, bustling with activity as though nobody noticed that they had all been bodily transported to the middle of the Wasteland. Guards in uniform were stationed outside the gates, and servants bearing trays were coming and going on the grounds.

“There’s going to be a banquet today, they have the lanterns up.” O-Toko observed.

“Just great, a banquet,” Apoo muttered under his breath, and turned to the Medicine Seller. “So what, you want to go inside the Castle and hunt down the Mononoke?”

“That is what the Scales suggest, yes.”

“You’re so out of touch it’s unbelievable. You’ll be thrown out on your ass so quick, and that’s only if they don’t jail you first.”

“But I thought you were… affiliated with the Kurozumi Shogunate,” observed the Medicine Seller. “Surely they would not object to an associate entering the Castle.” 

“Listen, me and Kamazo over there are supposed to be on a mission right now. We can’t just waltz into the castle and crash the banquet.”

“How will you complete the mission when nothing exists outside of this castle?” Asked the Medicine Seller.

Apoo glared at the Medicine Seller with genuine annoyance. “Okay. You win. But I draw the line at going anywhere near the banquet. And I’m not going through the main gate, either. Anyone can see us there.”

O-Toko chimed in with a ready solution. “We can go to Gokuraku Bridge, that’s where my nee-san goes when she goes home from the banquets.”

She led them without hesitation around the perimeter of the moat, toward the rear face of the Castle. In the Flower Capital, the area behind the twin bridges would be private grounds, regularly patrolled by Castle guards - as such, the general populace had very little reason or desire to venture this way.

“You sure know your way around. How does a kid like you know this place so well?” Apoo asked.

“I’m a kamuro, so I come to the castle with my nee-san all the time.”

“The child attendant of a courtesan,” the Medicine Seller explained, at the uncomprehending faces of the two foreigners.

Just as O-Toko said, there was a much narrower stone bridge not too far away. O-Toko stepped onto it as briskly as if she habitually trespassed upon castle grounds every day; Apoo and the other men followed with more caution. 

The entrance on this side of the castle was unobtrusive, hidden behind overgrown trees. The gate was guarded by a single sentry, who stood alert at the sound of their footsteps.

“Toko-chan?” The sentry called. “What are you doing without your onee-san? Why are your clothes all wet?” He looked at her three strange companions with clear suspicion. “And who are these gentlemen?”

“Hello, Tajomaru-san,” O-Toko giggled. “I fell into the moat, and these uncles saved me!”

The guard clucked at O-Toko. “You’ll have to ask your sisters to change you into some dry clothes right away.” 

He turned around and addressed the three men firmly, subtly placing himself between them and O-Toko. “Thank you for bringing Toko here, but you’re not allowed on Castle grounds.”

“They’re here as our guests,” said O-Toko. “They need to get ready for the banquet too.”

“I’m sorry, dear - but they aren’t allowed at this entrance. And I don’t think they have been invited to today’s banquet,” he said, glancing warily at Kamazo’s sickles and face-splitting smile.

“No, they’re supposed to be at the banquet,” insisted O-Toko stubbornly. 

“You’re sure they’ve been invited?” Asked the guard, with consternation plain on his face.

“Yes. And I thought you told nee-san the other day you’d do anything for us,” O-Toko said, with a sudden tone of sly coquettishness.

The guard blushed. “Well, I did promise Lady Komurasaki my aid, however feeble it might be…” 

He seemed to make up his mind at that. “If you’d make sure to tell Lady Komurasaki that Tajomaru the gatekeeper helped you--”

“Of course I will, Tajomaru-san! Thank you so much!”

“Though I am but a lowly guard, it would be the highest honor indeed to merely ease Lady Komurasaki’s day, to be in her thoughts for a moment--”

Apoo frowned, and addressed Kamazo and the Medicine Seller in a low voice. “Komurasaki? The Komurasaki? That can't be right, does that guy not know she's dead? That was the biggest news I heard when I got back on the island today…” 

His whisper was cut short by the guard waving them in through the gates. Inside the keep, everything seemed to be made of dark lacquered wood, surprisingly spare, with no ornamentation at all on the columns and beams latticed on the ceiling. The only source of illumination was the paper-lined windows at the corridors, where the waning afternoon light filtered in gloomy and grey, lending a strange stillness to the scene.

As they walked, the corridor gave way to various rooms and corners that seemed to be placed entirely at random, with no rhyme or reason - they passed rows of sliding doors, small hidden alcoves with wooden seats, and the corridor sometimes opened up to a dark, unfurnished central chamber before closing into a cramped passageway. All the while they were on alert for any passing footstep, a questioning servant - but no sign of habitation appeared to break the oppressive stillness.

Finally the travelers reached a fork in the corridor, one continuing around the perimeter of the base, and the other leading up a narrow staircase.

“Now where do we go?” Apoo asked.

“We should go up to the top,” said O-Toko confidently.

The Medicine Seller’s eyes swept the surroundings, as though the unchanging gloom yielded something that only his senses could perceive. 

“Why don’t we part ways for now? I will join you shortly.” 

The Medicine Seller suddenly pulled out large fistfuls of paper talismans in both hands. Crossing his arms in front of him, he hurled the paper forcefully toward their path. The talismans shot out like bullets, traveling up the stairs and papering the walls on each side.

“What the hell--” started Apoo, but the Medicine Seller interrupted him.

“I advise that you avoid detection; get away when the talismans turn red.” With this cryptic warning, the Medicine Seller left them and disappeared around the corridor.

O-Toko led Apoo and Kamazo up the staircase, which was so narrow that they were forced to walk in single file. They found the paper talismans stuck to the walls at regular intervals; somehow the paper had traveled up all this way with a single throw of the Medicine Seller’s hands.

“That’s some weird powers that guy has, I won’t be shocked if he’s the Mononoke.” Apoo muttered, glancing distrustfully at the talismans. He narrowed his eyes at the archaic seal script in black ink, as if challenging them to reveal their secret; but the talismans only remained blankly inert.

The Medicine Seller walked along a narrow corridor with a series of chambers on either side, each closed door papered with the same talismans. 

In the wake of the Medicine Seller’s footsteps, the black seal script wavered, collapsed in on themselves - and reformed themselves into a single, closed eye. 

The change rippled across the wall like a silent wave.

“It is here,” he said.

The ripple of the talismans converged rapidly to one door. In the epicenter, the closed eyes suddenly opened in unison, black ink turning a glaring vermilion. The quiet still air suddenly teemed with a buzz of danger.

The Medicine Seller threw open the screen door with a flourish of his hands.

A rush of warm feminine perfume enveloped the Medicine Seller. Inside the room, a dozen courtesans and female attendants stared up at the Medicine Seller in alarm. Silver bira bira hairpins, disturbed by the sudden turning of heads, quaked and glittered all around the Medicine Seller.

The lavish scene inside could not be more different from the dark corridor outside: all around the room, there were youthful faces painted in white and rouge, layers of intricately dyed kimonos with the latest seasonal motifs, and heavy brocade obi displayed in elaborate knots.

“This place is not for men,” said one of the courtesans indignantly. “How dare you enter so rudely?” 

The Medicine Seller made a deep bow. “Forgive me, I am a medicine seller - I have been invited to the banquet, and I have lost my way.”

“I daresay he can’t mean any harm,” spoke up another woman from the innermost seat. There was something in her bearing that indicated seniority, even if it were not made obvious from her gold-embroidered uchikake and the rows of tortoiseshell hairpins that framed her head like a halo.

“You’re welcome to stay, Kusuriuri-san: we were lacking in occupation until the banquet, and it will be some time before we are wanted before the Shogun.”

At her unspoken command, the attendants shifted to make room for the Medicine Seller. Conversation started up in the room, as light and fluttery as the silk flower ornaments on the women’s hair.

“Such a fashionable young man!” One courtesan exclaimed, glancing at the Medicine Seller appreciatively.

“It’s a nice change to have such interesting company for once. It’s always the same stuffy Daimyos, all the time.”

“I wish I can get married quickly, so that I don’t have to attend the banquets anymore - they’re so tedious!” Lamented another courtesan.

The senior courtesan addressed the Medicine Seller with a cordial smile. “It is not often that the banquets are graced with a new face. How did you come to be invited?”

“I am here to provide entertainment, I assume. I have many rare medicines in my wares, reserved for the most discerning buyers.”

“I would very much like to take a look, before the Daimyos buy up all of your stock.” 

The Medicine Seller obligingly took the medicines out of his box. Each precious ingredient was in tiny drawers, fastidiously wrapped in rice paper, and the Medicine Seller laid them out like a jewelry display.

“Deer musk and antlers; bear bile; ox bezoars; cinnabar ore; ginseng from the West; Cordyceps from the Himalayas, rhinoceros horns from India, and pangolin scales from the South. If the Shogun has a skilled apothecary, he could make miracles of these medicines.”

“Very impressive. But we are not learned in the art of Kampo; is there something we may use more easily?” 

“Certainly. For the layman--” The Medicine Seller packed the tiny drawers back with practiced neatness, and pulled out another compartment. “--Pills and powders for daily ailments, and moxibustion pellets of the highest grade.” With a flint, he lit one of the pellets, and a sweet smoke of mugwort curled from the embers. 

Then he unfolded a chart of pressure points of the hand and body. “Acupressure, most useful for the novice in daily life. If you have any ailments or pains, regular application will improve the flow of energy to the area.”

“I suffer from indigestion from time to time; what would you suggest for me?” asked the courtesan with amusement in her voice.

“I can show you a remedy. May I have your hand?”

The Medicine Seller’s pale hands, no less delicate than those of the courtesan’s, cradled her wrist. Firmly he pinched the spot between the courtesan’s thumb and index finger, rolling the flesh slightly. The courtesan let out a subtle gasp, color rising to her cheeks.

“Does it hurt?”

She nodded silently, biting her lower lip, eyes fixed on their joined hands. 

“That is the remedy taking hold - massage the pressure point when you feel discomfort in your stomach.”

He released the courtesan’s hand back onto her lap. “Well, I must take my leave soon. I ask that you accept the medicines as a gift, for being so gracious as to overlook my intrusion.”

“Wait,” The courtesan called, and the amusement was gone from her voice. “I must warn you - you are in grave danger. The banquets are truly horrid: I have seen blood sports between servants, men and women forced into crossdressing, nobles humiliated and executed on a whim. I’m afraid for you, Kusuriuri-san - you must be on your guard. The Shogun is so capricious, and no one can predict who will be his next target.”

“Hatsugiku-Tayu, you mustn't say such things,” said one of the courtesans in a scandalized whisper.

“I appreciate the warning,” said the Medicine Seller. “But I have been summoned to the banquet by Lady Komurasaki and her retinue; I do not think that I would come to harm.”

Hatsugiku’s lips thinned bitterly. “Komurasaki-Tayu sent you? Well, she has always been a special favorite of the Shogun - in that case, I suppose you will be safe.” 

She cast her gaze downward, and there was regret and fear clouding her eyes. “But please disregard what I said. I overstepped, forgive me.”

“Not to worry. I will not repeat it to anyone,” said the Medicine Seller.

In a blink of an eye, the women were all gone, and there was a white chrysanthemum on the place where Hatsugiku had sat.

“Be at peace,” said the Medicine Seller, and the mugwort burned down like incense for the departed spirits.

Apoo seemed to be the only one still willing to talk about the continuing strangeness of the castle. 

“It’s just too quiet in here,” complained Apoo. “There’s gonna be a banquet, but where are all the servants we saw outside? And I remember seeing all those windows lit up, but I haven’t seen a single lamp in here, it’s like this place is deserted.”

Apoo opened a paper-lined window, but he could not see anything but flat wasteland out the window, and closed it back up again.

“Well, not that I actually want to see anyone here - but it’s still creepy as hell.”

His little speech being over, Apoo silently tapped at Kamazo’s back, discreetly trying to get his attention; but Apoo’s attempts utterly failed, as Kamazo ignored him as studiously as he had all day. He switched tactics to ask his questions to O-Toko outright.

“Little girl, I’ve been meaning to ask you something. If you’re a kamuro, why are you here without Lady Komurasaki?”

“We were lost and we got here with Kusuriuri-san, don’t you remember?” O-Toko answered, in a tone that suggested Apoo was asking a very stupid question.

“That’s not what I… Okay, do you know where Lady Komurasaki is, then?” 

“She'll be at the banquet, of course,” O-Toko said glibly. “Everyone wants her at the banquets.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know she’s famous-- but don't you know about what happened to her?”

The little girl merely looked back at Apoo with a blank smile.

“God, this is not going anywhere,” Apoo sighed. 

The staircase finally brought them to a gallery on the upper floor. Wooden pegs lined one side of the wall, upon which some scattered swords and spears were mounted - apparently this space was some kind of armory. 

Even all the way up here they could find the talismans that the Medicine Seller had thrown, but Apoo seemed unwilling to question their presence any further, being his only lifeline in the cramped labyrinth of the Castle. 

They followed the talismans like breadcrumbs, watching for some change in the black seal script, constantly on alert for a passing servant.

Finally, Apoo’s fears came to life. From somewhere behind them came the creaking of floorboards and dull thuds of footsteps, and they could hear muffled conversation as well. As one, the travelers quickened their steps, not daring to make a noise except for their shaky breaths, barreling blindly through corners--

Only to be stopped in their tracks when more voices started up in front of them.

The travelers stood there frozen. The boom-boom-boom of heels thumping on wood closed in all around them, the floorboards creaking as busily as a dozen men were marching down the corridors. The voices were getting nearer now, almost clear enough to make out the words. A buzz of danger rang in their ears, rendering the speech indistinguishable.

O-Toko tugged at Apoo’s sleeve with enough force to make him stumble. “Hurry, we have to hide.” She pulled the two men with surprising strength into an alcove in the wall. 

They came face-to-face with a wall full of wide-open vermilion eyes--

Kamazo stood alone in a stone dungeon cell.

Or, not quite alone: there was an enormous pile of matted red fur on the floor in front of him.

The only way one could tell that it was a human was a single muscular arm, manacled to the wall. The other arm was nowhere to be seen, nor could any other human feature be easily distinguished from the tangle of fur and gore.

A good deal of blood had already pooled beneath the pile. Perhaps the man was bleeding from a severed arm, or perhaps the blood had trickled from other wounds on his person. At any rate, there could not be much left inside his veins any longer.

With great effort, a mangled face lifted itself out of the red fur, and its wild amber eyes locked onto Kamazo with a gleam of recognition. He made a pained grimace, teeth stained red with blood.

“I guess this is it for me, Killer,” the prisoner gurgled out. “But you knew that already, didn't you?”

Spasms wracked his body and a spurt of blood gushed out of his mouth. “I just wish…you hadn’t--” And then the face dropped lifelessly back into the pile.

Kamazo started laughing, an ugly chuckle rising from his throat and spreading to a full-bodied uproar. He laughed so hard that tears streamed freely down his face, and he sank to the ground on all fours, heaving and shaking. It was strange - when his grinning face was not visible, the wretched noises he made were indistinguishable from sobs.

Suddenly a hand closed around Kamazo’s shoulder.

“I told you to stay away when the talismans turn red,” said the Medicine Seller’s voice.

When Kamazo lifted his face, he was back in the corridor, crumpled inelegantly on the floor with tears smeared over his face.

O-Toko and Apoo were also crouched on the floor in clear distress. Apoo stumbled up to his feet, trembling and sweating.

“What did you see?” Asked the Medicine Seller.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Apoo snapped, eyes darting like a hunted animal, then caught himself and addressed the Medicine Seller in a pleading tone. “Look, man, I just don’t want to be in this place anymore. Are we any closer to finding the Mononoke?”

He hurried over to Kamazo and the Medicine Seller and lowered his voice to a whisper. “There’s something wrong with that girl, I don’t trust her. Do you know she pulled us into that room just now? It’s almost like she wanted us to get caught in.. whatever that was.”

Apoo darted a glance at O-Toko’s still huddled form. “And she’s pretending like Komurasaki’s not dead. It’s the biggest news in town that the Shogun had Komurasaki killed - she ran her mouth at one of the banquets and the Shogun sent an assassin after her.”

He elbowed Kamazo. “Dude, wasn’t that how it went? You of all people should know!”

Apoo looked pleadingly at the Medicine Seller again. “Anyway, If someone’s leading us into a trap, it’s her - doesn’t that mean she’s the Mononoke?”

The Medicine Seller cast a cursory glance at the sword in his hand. “If she is the Mononoke, the sword will make it clear in due time.”

“Not so loud,” hissed Apoo, for O-Toko had gotten up and was coming toward them. 

Apoo shrank behind the Medicine Seller. His sudden fear of O-Toko would have been ridiculous, like a hulking dog afraid of a tiny kitten - if not for the fact that O-Toko was somehow still smiling, seemingly unaffected by whatever horrors that had brought her to her knees just a minute ago. In her wide smile there was something similar to Kamazo’s smile, a deranged and vindictive undertone.

“We’re almost here,” she announced. “That’s the banquet hall, just ahead.”

When she turned her head, there was light at the end of the hallway, spilling warm and bright into the grey gloom.

“B-banquet hall?” Apoo stammered.

There was a great lurch that made the travelers stumble. The corridor started moving all around them, carrying the travelers toward the light, as though the travelers were trapped in an invisible vehicle. Even the floorboards seemed to flow beneath their feet like water, a disorienting sight to behold.

Apoo fell to all fours and clawed at the wooden floor, trying with all his might to crawl back the way he came, but could gain no more traction than if he were on a sheet of perfectly formed ice. The other three were much more composed - the Medicine Seller looked around with an air of idle curiosity, while Kamazo and O-Toko looked fixedly ahead at their destination with identical smiles on their faces.

The corridor whipped inexorably past the travelers, carrying them quicker and quicker through twists and turns, and finally up a wide staircase. They were being taken to the top floor of the Castle - and there was no doubt they had reached the top, where the Shogun resided - for the whole floor was an unbelievably spacious antechamber, decorated with an opulence that could be not found elsewhere in Wano. The vast floor space was finished with tatami mats, and the sliding doors and ceilings were full of paintings upon a backdrop of gold foil.

Clinks of dishes and masculine laughter could be heard, as well as delicate strains of the shamisen. It was the dreaded banquet - separated from the travelers just behind a set of paper doors.

“Wait, I can't go in there! I told you, I'm supposed to be on a mission!” Apoo screamed. “Do you know what the Shogun will do to me? No! I can’t go in there!”

The dizzying movement through the Castle slowed for a moment, as if considering Apoo’s plea; but the Castle seemed to think better of it, and the paper doors opened their maw and swallowed up the travelers.

The noise of entertainment was cut short, leaving nothing but a ringing silence behind.

Apoo looked around wildly, but he was not accosted by a guard, nor did the Shogun’s enraged voice ring out to order immediate punishment upon him.

At first glance, the banquet hall seemed unoccupied, although the banquet hall was fully adorned and set to capacity. The tables were set with trays of food at every seat, exquisite arrangements of delicacies in tiny decorative dishes.

When one looked closer, there were shadowy, transparent figures at the tables, moving in a silent pantomime of feasting and drinking - they did not appear to notice the interruption at all. Presiding over the whole banquet was a raised seat at the center, placed in prime position to view the dancers’ stage, which had also been prepared for a performance with a backdrop of thatched huts.

O-Toko stood on the stage, illuminated by the stage lights. She was regarding the three men patiently, as if she had been waiting for them to take notice of her. Her smile widened when she saw their eyes turn to her.

“Thank you for coming to the banquet,” she said. “I’ve never performed on the stage before, because I was too young; but now that you’re here, I wanted the chance to tell my story.”

A ghostly image of a courtesan on the stage started a tune on the shamisen, and on cue, O-Toko began her narration.

“I was born in the village of Ebisu, just outside of the Wasteland. A long time ago, my father told me, Ebisu was a prosperous village, rich with grain and cattle. But all I have known in that village was poverty. The factories poisoned the farmlands with dirty water, so no crops grew there and we were always starving.”

A ragged young girl, around three or four years of age, entered the stage, holding the hand of a wizened old man. 

“My father,” O-Toko continued. “My father opposed the rule of Orochi, and for that he was exiled to Ebisu Village. We never had enough to eat, but at least we had each other.”

Father and daughter sat down in front of a run-down thatched hut, and made a pantomime of ladling gruel from a pot - but there was not enough for even one bowl. The wizened old man pushed the bowl toward the little girl, and the girl scarfed down the last of the gruel while her father looked at her sadly.

The peaceful scene was interrupted by black-clad men pulling a cart of apples with strange target patterns on the skin. They dumped the apples in front of the father and daughter; father and daughter picked up the apples from the ground and devoured them, while the black-clad men pointed and laughed at them.

“One day, Orochi’s servants brought cursed apples to the village. ‘Eat them if you dare,’ they taunted us. We knew that they were cursed, that they would make us smile and laugh even if we wanted to cry- but we ate the apples because we were starving.

"They were delicious, and I was never so full in my life - but now I regret ever eating them, because there were so many times that I wanted to cry, and I could only laugh.”

Silently, a backdrop of a public square was lowered onto the stage. The father was bound to a scaffold in front of a firing squad.

“My father, even in his exile, was still in the resistance against Orochi. One day he was caught and charged with treason against the Shogun.”

The firing squad shot a multitude of bullets at the old man; the bullets tore through his sternum and ribcage and out of his back, and real blood flowed out of the grisly wound and pooled on the stage. 

The young girl ran toward her father’s dying body. She was laughing hysterically, tears running down her face. She tried to put toad ointment on her father’s gaping wounds, but only succeeded in smearing her hands and clothes with blood.

O-Toko stared calmly at her sobbing and laughing younger self, as though the fresh wound of that day had become ingrained into tired resignation. It was the expression of an old woman, to whom tragedy was so commonplace as to become unremarkable - a bone-deep apathy that seemed so common to her countrymen.

“After my father died, I was sold to the brothel to become a kamuro. Komurasaki nee-san took me in; she took good care of me. She was loved by everyone, and Orochi desired her above all other courtesans - but in her heart she hated Orochi.”

The backdrops were lifted so that the dancer’s stage lay bare. The ghostly shadow playing the shamisen materialized into a beautiful courtesan, her dress signifying the same lofty rank as Hatsugiku. The younger O-Toko entered the stage dressed in a new kimono, and sat in seiza behind the courtesan.

“As Komurasaki nee-san’s kamuro, it was my duty to attend the banquets with her. I knew that I must stay silent inside the Castle or the Shogun would take notice of me. And one must never be noticed by the Shogun if he values his life.

“But in his detestable speeches Orochi insulted the resistance; he insulted my father and his friends in exile. I was so angry that I couldn’t stop laughing.”

The sound of the shamisen was abruptly cut short as the beautiful courtesan threw her instrument aside. She took O-Toko’s hand and pulled her onto her feet, and the pair ran out of the stage together.

“I should not have laughed, I know: the price of laughing at the Shogun could only be death. Still, Komurasaki nee-san tried to save me, she told me that she would take me away from Orochi.”

Paper confetti, in a surprisingly convincing imitation of snowfall, started fluttering down from the ceiling. The courtesan and the child limped onto the stage, out of breath and clutching their sides. They made their grueling way to the other side of the stage, almost managing to make it outside--

“But,” O-Toko whispered, “Orochi had sent an assassin after us.”

A man entered the stage silently, following the two women like a stalking predator. It was an oddly dressed man with a long sohatsu ponytail, long sickles strapped at his back, and a large gaudy obi tied at his front.

With an explosive spurt of movement he caught up to the two women. The struggle, if it could even be called such, was short. The man overpowered the courtesan’s scratching hands with an iron grip, and mercilessly threw the woman down onto the floor. The man drew both sickles from his back with a swirling, seamless movement - and swung them full force into the prone form of the courtesan, and then the young girl.

The man stood with his back to the audience. He looked down at the young child and the courtesan, sickles protruding from their backs, a pool of blood seeping into the surrounding snow. The paper confetti still fell silently over the tableau.

After a long moment, the man retrieved his sickles out of the corpses, and shook the blood off the blades with a practiced snap of his wrist. He raised his head - to reveal a deranged, face-splitting smile.

“And that is how he killed me!” O-Toko cried, pointing her finger at the real Kamazo.

The accused froze on the spot, as if transfixed by the little girl’s finger. His wide, open mouthed smile trembled at the stark evidence of his guilt. Kamazo’s hand spasmed toward the sickles strapped at his back, his feet widening in a defensive stance.

A gust of wind rose up, picking up dust and circling around Kamazo, and from the wind there echoed the hisses and shrieks of weasels.

The Medicine Seller regarded Kamazo with a subtle raised brow, the first hint of interest he had shown all day.

“I have seen the Form - Kamaitachi.” 

The sword snapped its jaws together with a resonant clink.