A window that barely let through any light at all. In terms of translucency and width, the object had failed at both. Dust caked on its inside surface sparkled under what weak rays of moonlight could find it amidst the crowded, ramshackle alleyways in which the clinic operated. Putting its abnormal height aside, the rectangular looking glass was much too thin to see anything of note out of it anyway. Dust be damned, it wouldn’t matter. The window simply was there to let in a dismal handful of sunshine for child patients who were already at death’s door. A bit of nature’s sympathy and grace for those dealt a bad hand. But no sunlight found its way to her. To the widow’s daughter.
No. For little Sato, daughter of Shino, there was naught but darkness. An abyssal night sky peeking over dirty rooftops was all the child could see when she woke to her own hacking and coughing. Pouring rain flitted across the filthy glass as if to taunt her. As if to tell her that she would no longer see the sun again. That she would only see an eternal night, and that daylight would never arrive to drench her in celestial warmth. She could barely manage the strength to sit up and peer through the window.
With what modicum of sight she had, she saw what her heaving coughs had expelled onto the back of her hand. Dark, dry droplets of blood dotted her skin like an abstract expressionist painting. More coughs. And yet, more dry coughs. Her throat was sore and scratchy. It hurt to breathe.
Even so, she didn’t call for her mother. Nor did she shout for the doctor. She didn’t want to, and she wondered why. Was she afraid? Was her voice too hoarse to carry her wish to Ryosai’s ears? It was far more trivial than that. Simply, she couldn’t bear to burden her mother anymore. The torrent of tears and remorseful wailing had struck an odd cord deep within her. She was tired. Tired of making Shino sad.
So, she gripped her rag of a blanket and stared out the dismal window in complete silence. She counted raindrops. She studied every nook, cranny, and crevice along the sides of the makeshift buildings and walkways. She hoped it would lull her back to sleep.
The Maiden of the Rain took a few weary steps forward, her face and hair painted blue in the window gleam, and rested a hand on the wall beside the bed frame. She stood and stared down at the silent girl watching the rain. Little Sato didn’t notice her one bit, as if they were a part of two completely different worlds.
“So it’s true. You don’t remember, do you?”
“I really don’t. None of this is familiar to me in the slightest.”
“I shouldn’t be so surprised. You were young, yes, but to recall such a memory would be fighting a losing battle with one’s own mind.”
Sato took a deep breath, then sighed. The monotonous pattering of water droplets on the steel plates and beams outside accentuated the pause. “You loved her.”
Ryosai’s shimmering eyeglasses pointed straight at Sato’s back. Not an inch of his face twitched at the woman’s sudden statement. “You could say that. Though, I don’t think I realized until it was far too late. Love is a fickle beast. I can’t say I understand it, even at my age. It is a shapeshifter. A deceiver. One day, she was just another sobbing client grasping at my heels. Crying. Shouting at me. The next, without me even realizing, I had been utterly entranced.”
Sato didn’t respond. Her eyes shimmered just as Ryosai’s glasses did in the light of the dingy window. The sky above had begun to lighten up as stars started to burn through the cold night air.
“Your mother was so incredibly fragile. I was amazed when she managed to break her beloved idol.” He reached into one of his overly large coat pockets and revealed a bunch of splintered wooden pieces that seemed to have made up a greater whole long ago. “She must have used all her strength to do it. All her weight. Her whole heart. I don’t believe you understand how much she sacrificed for you.”
Sato turned her head to look back at Ryosai and his extended hand. “Of course I do. Even if this is all new to me… even if I can’t place myself here… I’ve seen them now. Her memories. And even then, there are many things I remember from before those bygone days.”
Ryosai returned his hand and the wooden pieces to his pocket.
“Dozens of days and nights she worked for me. Made me dinner. Took care of me. Loved me despite the sickness. Despite the burden.” Her face tensed as she continued to stare at the young girl trying to fall asleep. “It’s hard to believe this is me. That I would resort to staying silent and suffering just so Mother could rest. How stupid could I be…? This… is the last thing she would want from me. All she wanted… was for me to live happily.” Tears rolled over her eyelids and dripped onto her raincoat. They traveled down the beautiful tarpaulin like miniature rivers carving their way through unknown lands. “How do I do it, Doctor? How do I carry on with this hole in my heart?”
“I… I do not know. That is why I decided to take the leap. If there is even a sliver of a possibility that she can be brought back, then I can hope. I can live with the expectation that I will see her again.” The image of Shino, umbrella in her hand, looking back at him in the rainshower, flashed in his mind. It was a mental photograph his brain had taken without his consent, but he was overwhelmingly thankful for the memory. It was a moment so dear to him that to even recall fragments of it brought a warm smile to his cold demeanor.
Sato exhaled in feigned amusement. “You know, for a doctor, you really don’t think these things through, huh?”
Ryosai lightly chuckled, though his face was as stern as always. A rare expression that he would only show to a few select people. “You’re right. Whether or not it’s truly a ghost or some Paracosmic echo, the fact it exists remains the same. And, seeing as how it distorted its surroundings with fragments of the past, I think the latter is likely its true nature. However, be it a phantom or a memory, it is a fragment of Shino. It has to be. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here. Call me a fool. Berate me with cruel words. But there is still a chance that we could pull her back to this side, Sato. I believe in the possibility with all my heart, as Shino believed in you. Surely, she will heed my call. She’s with Her, now. And they’ve both had their fair share of losses.”
Sato grew confused. It sounded like Ryosai wasn’t even talking about Shino anymore. Rather, he mumbled on about concepts foreign to her.
Before she could interrupt and ask, the slender window drew their attention for a second time, and they joined young Sato in quiet wonderment.
The night sky that had denied her happiness in her final moments had opened up. Its wispy wings unfolded, its heaving rib cage filled with nebulae breathed and expanded, and a shower of stars rained down alongside the rainstorm. Infinitely gorgeous, beautiful azure gradients swathed the city. A sea of heavenly bodies lighting the world. Gods of fire and life igniting the pitch black avenues. Beauty unmatched and indescribable with mere words. Language was utterly null and void when it came to the stunning display outside little Sato’s rickety windowpane. Reville found itself coated in alien, neon colors the likes of which its bygone residents had never seen before in their entire lives. Violet and blue. Swirls of purple and cyan. Brushstrokes of bittersweet melancholy. The window was splattered with hundreds of wayward droplets filled to the brim with reflective, swirling colors of the same hue. Infinitely reflected. Every atom, every molecule bounced around to the tune of a hymn, of a song that went unheard but was felt by millions. A spectacle for the world, and for one dying girl who peered up at the sky with a fading yet blissful smile. A pure, childlike smile. She didn’t have to understand what was happening, only to enjoy it while it was. It was. Then, it wasn’t. But the colors remained in her irises. In her corneas. That endlessly reflecting palette lingered inside her eyes. Stardust swirled in circles as she stared into space. Then, the vastness cleared, and the beauty faded.
With it, little Sato had finally been drained of the last of her energy. She was very, very sleepy. She drew the ragged blanket up to her chest, her cold toes peeking out at the other end, and she slipped into faded, forming dreams. But the dreams would never form. The young girl passed away long before they could. Her mind went blank, and the little light of life within was snuffed out like a dying match flame.
Yet, the rain continued to pound.
And a stifling, grim silence descended down upon the small room where it once was pleasantly quiet.
“What…?”
Ryosai ripped his eyes away from the girl’s corpse and returned his gaze to the dark sky.
“What…”
He sighed, then took a step or two forward and placed a hand on Sato’s shoulder to comfort her. “This… is when you succumbed to your illness. No one could have remembered this but you, Sato. Of course, I believed you when you said you couldn’t remember this moment. It wasn’t because you were young. It was because this was the moment of your death.”
Sato didn’t respond. Her violet eyes swirled in vibrant circles.
“You must have subconsciously suppressed the memory. Though you couldn’t recall it, I was sure it was at the very back of your mind. It seems that whatever Shino did, it managed to draw up the event like a bucket draws water from a deep, deep well.”
“It really happened… I… died…?”
“Know that there was nothing I could have done for you. I gave you what I had. Infusion medicine. Anything and everything to keep you alive. I had to let you rest. An ill child cannot miss a night of sleep, and if you had endured it all, I am sure you would have made it. I’m sure you would have survived. …But, this is the truth. You died in your sleep.”
The joyous smile young Sato had during the starshower continued posthumously. She looked as though she were in the middle of a pleasant dream.
Sato composed herself, nodding and peering down at her own corpse with welling tears. “What was it, Doctor? What was that light in the sky?”
“I don’t know the absolute truth,” Ryosai replied slowly. “I know only what I know. If I had any inkling to what it might have been… then I would guess that it was a Night of Falling Stars.”
“A Night of Falling Stars?” Sato repeated.
Ryosai nodded. “It is a very rare occurrence. It has only happened twice in my lifetime.”
“What is it?”
“A special night in which the stars appear to fall like rain across the sky down to the earth below. Back when villages much like our own used to occupy the Outlands, those who lived there prized it greatly. Whether it was religious or not, I am not sure. It could have been a simple tradition. But Outlanders once believed that all the stars in the sky were the souls of those who loved you in life. That they would shine down upon you and only you. That only you could gaze upon their luster. And… they believed that there was a chance for these stars to descend down to Aeos.”
“Descend…”
“It was more complicated than that. The stars were no more than concepts to them than true astral bodies. They didn’t see balls of flame light years away from us, no. They could look up at the sky and hear the laughter and see the smiles of dead loved ones. When one of them would reach the earth, it was considered a serious sin to ever touch or communicate with them. They would say that these stars were wish-granting, omnipotent creatures. Outlanders were not fond of fire, not to mention magic of any kind.”
Sato absorbed the information in silence. Her discomfort born from being in the same room as her own deceased body was outweighed by the brilliant mystery of the stars that had appeared before her untimely demise. What could they mean? Why had such a thing happened at that exact moment in time? It couldn’t have been a coincidence… could it? She thought long and hard. “How do you know so much about this?”
“I saw the very same Night of Falling Stars as you did, Sato. The very same miracle. I had been woken up in the middle of the night by torturous nightmares and couldn’t sleep. I left the clinic to go for a walk when it happened. That was so very long ago, and yet, I was convinced it had to do with you and Shino’s death. It was right before then, after all. I researched it, but found no solace.”
“...Okay.”
“Don’t you have another question on your mind? A simple one, yet the most important one?”
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Sato wiped the remaining tears from her eyes and took another sharp, deep breath in and out. Her irises glowed in the dusky ward like some nocturnal animal caught on film. “Yes. I was afraid to move on… but I’m ready now. How? How have I died and come back to life? It doesn’t make sense.”
Doctor Ryosai closed his eyes, his lenses completely translucent and devoid of blinding reflections. He nodded, then opened them again. “Then, let us take a walk through that door. It will surely lead to the next memory. It should be one of my own.” He pointed to a darkened door frame that seemed to absorb any light that came near it.
Reluctantly, Sato nodded in agreement.
The two entered the shadowy door in stride.
***
On the next day, the tenth, a light rain fell starting at dawn, followed by a spring thunder shower late in the hour of the dragon. I set out at the behest of a client, but when I came as far as Shino’s house, I encountered an angry crowd of villagers.
The gathering shouted at each other about the Kirinai Sect and ‘occultist magecraft’ with so much intensity that Ryosai couldn’t get his horse to obey him and pass by the city folk uninvolved.
Past the crowd, there were three priests in black garments holding up wooden idols as if they were waving large flags. In fact, they were of the very same shape and make as the idol poor Shino had destroyed right in front of him. Ryosai, upon pushing some belligerent civilians to the side, saw them and immediately recognized them as such. The priests held up ornate staffs and chanted in repetition.
“Praise to the all-compassionate, all-merciful Deus Come Thus. May we bask in everlasting light come our inevitable ends.”
“Heretics!” a villager yelled from across the way.
“Blasphemy! You’ll go to Hell for this!”
The head priest ignored the rants. He handed one of his assistants his staff, then revealed a stone tablet from underneath his robes and had one of his other assistants hold it up perfectly flat on his palms. Then, procuring a stone capsule from his bag, he shifted its top and took out a handful of starry powder.
One of the rioting villagers attempted to throw a broken bottle at the occultists, but his hand was stopped by the village headman and his guards. Whether or not it was a religious practice that aligned with his own or anyone there, he respected it and allowed the ritual to continue. Though, the action was most likely born out of being intrigued about what was going to transpire rather than benevolent compassion.
The same intrigue that gripped the headman had reached Ryosai’s heart as well. At last, as he pushed past the last row of people, he saw what the commotion was truly about. Crouching at the feet of the head priest, her hair in disarray, was Shino, clutching her daughter Sato.
“S-Shino…! What are you doing? What are they doing!?” Ryosai darted back and forth from the abnormal scene and the rambling men beside him.
“Witchcraft! Dark magic!”
“Sorcery! It doesn’t matter! The headman is a heretic, too!”
The angry villagers were silenced by the guards once more. They didn’t take any slight against their boss too kindly.
Shino remained oblivious to Ryosai’s inquiries, lost in her own world as she clutched her daughter’s corpse and mumbled to herself.
After some more preparations, the head priest raised a hand and asked the crowd for silence. When they did not comply, the headman made them. Following threats and actions of violence, silence was finally brought to the ritual. The priest made a circle of powder around Sato and Shino, then blew the last of it onto the raised stone tablet.
An odd sensation filled the area. One of the other priests handed the head priest back his ornate staff.
With several flourishes, he raised it high into the sky, and a solemn chime resonated throughout the street. Then, he slammed it down on the dusty tablet with considerable force, and following the abrupt action, the powder instantly erupted into violet flames.
The tablet-carrier knelt down beside the mother and daughter, lowered the flaming stone to chest height, then blew the conflagrated dust onto the circle that had been drawn moments before. The violet blaze carried forth into the powder circle, surrounding Sato and Shino, cornering them with no escape. That is, if they tried to leave it, they would be burned severely. Burn wounds were no easy thing to fix with modern medicine.
“Almighty Deus Come Thus. Please, hear our call. Trade a life for the star-touched. Trade the unworthy soul for the blessed. We call unto you, asking you for a simple trade, though we are aware of our greed. Be it blind luck or divine favor, set the balance right if you do hear us. Tip the scales for those chosen by the stars.”
“Tip the scales…? What does he mean?” Ryosai desperately asked.
“I believe,” an elderly villager replied, shaking his head, “that he aims to give the dead child life again in return for this woman’s vitality.”
“What!? That’s-” Realization struck his nerves like a bolt of lightning. The doctor rushed forward to stop the ceremony, but the arcane flames were too much for him. When he stepped closer, they grew hotter and fiercer with every step. There was no saving her without burning her and himself alive. There was no choice to be made. Nothing he could do. Self-loathing and hatred boiled deep in the pit of his stomach as he slowly stepped back and rejoined the perplexed crowd.
The light rainstorm briefly became aggravated. Thunder roared over the priests’ chants. The wind picked up, hurling bits of junk and trash across the muddy roads. The violet flames blazed brighter than they had before, so much so that Ryosai was convinced that Shino and her daughter would be nothing but ash once they calmed.
Fortunately, he was wrong. The spring shower returned to its light drizzle and wispy winds, and with it, the fervent flames calmed and were extinguished altogether. As they faded from view, the two women were revealed once more wreathed in ash, as if reborn from the smoldering cinders. Incredibly, Sato had her arms wrapped around her mother’s neck and was intoning her name in a sweet little voice.
But Shino no longer cried for her, nor did she mumble or intone any Kirinai sutras. For a minute, she still lay clutching Sato dearly with unyielding maternal strength. Even that strength, given time, faltered. Her body relaxed, her legs gave way, and she collapsed onto the ground, dead.
Since ancient times, there have been not a few examples of people dying and coming back to life, but most of these have been cases of alcohol poisoning or of contact with natural miasmas. However, Sato did come back to life. This account, then, should serve to illustrate the heterodox practices of the Kirinai Sect. In addition, let me note that the spring shower produced intense thunder just as the priest left this village as well. I take this to mean that Heaven was showing its abhorrence for him.
***
The memory turned opaque, drained of color and rendered black and white. The Maiden of the Rain solemnly strode into the center of the ritual site, and Ryosai followed with his hands firmly in his pockets.
For the first time since she’d reunited with him following the defeat of the hellhound, the doctor had little to say. His face, too, was contorted into a strange expression. A vicious cocktail of emotions, she assumed, was brewing inside him. Though, she couldn’t blame him. She too didn’t have any remarks, smart questions nor long-winded speeches. The final memory had answered anything she could have asked, and had left her with nothing but ash and oblivion.
Ryosai knelt down near Shino’s recreated form and clasped his hands in prayer.
After some deliberation, Sato did the same. A quiet moment of reprieve and grief followed, then faded.
“...The Kirinai were banished afterward. Any who dare step foot into Reville today are branded criminals on the spot. And the village headman, Yazaemon, was stripped of his title.”
Sato faced Ryosai, her raincoat donned, her umbrella at her side, as it always was. “You wish they had never done it, don’t you? That Mother should have kept living and that I should have remained a corpse.”
The doctor gave no audible reply. Instead, he adjusted his glasses and lowered his head. His eyes fell to the ground where Shino’s monochromatic cadaver lay.
“Of course you do,” Sato said, a sad smile pursing her lips. “I felt the same, at first. This memory is one I did remember, Doctor. But I didn’t remember it correctly. I didn’t have the context, after all. I had always believed that the ritual had gone wrong, that the Kirinai themselves were not at fault, that what happened was nothing more than a random tragedy. But, this… this was no gamble. The ritual was performed perfectly, wasn’t it? It’s what she wanted from the beginning.”
“Yes,” he replied, a touch of sorrow in his voice. “She had told me that night. The night before you died; that she valued you more than anything in the world, even herself. I should have known. I was so foolish back then. If only I had kept a closer eye on her. If only-” He stopped himself, his sentence cut in twain. “No. There is no point in dwelling on mistakes that I can never take back. That’s why… I’ll never make the same mistakes a second time. I’ll never let her out of my reach, never let her destroy herself again. It’s the only way.”
The memory began to distort. Ripples in the fabric of reality started to tear the world around them, revealing the truth beyond.
“Sato…! Can you hear us!?”
“Hey, dummy! It’s Tien! The entity’s weakening! You should be out of there soon!”
A warmth tinged the Maiden’s visage. It was the voices of Ma’at and Tien. Her friends were working on freeing them all this time.
“No…! Don’t tell me they’re harming her? Tell them, Sato. Tell them to stop. Tell them that it’s her. Tell them that they’re hurting Shino!” Ryosai pleaded.
Sato pondered, deep in contemplative rainwater, while Ryosai shouted into the mesmerizing tears appearing around them. Then, she pointed the sharp end of her baroque umbrella straight at him. “Doctor, listen to me. That wandering ghost… it’s not her. It can’t be Mother.”
Ryosai went quiet suddenly and looked at Sato as if she were a raving madwoman. “You can’t mean that. How do you know? What makes you so sure?”
“Because the woman you fell in love with, and the woman who raised me, would never hurt a fly. You said it yourself, didn’t you? That she was so incredibly fragile. Ephemeral, like a spider’s thread in the wind. But it was her strength, her endurance despite her powerlessness that utterly captivated you. I know. I’ve seen them. Your memories.” She smiled in spite of herself. “She truly was beautiful that night underneath the rain, holding this very umbrella. Nobody could forget such a sight.”
“I can’t… I won’t believe it! It has to be her! I know it. If it isn’t, then… then how do I carry on like this, Sato? How do I carry on like nothing happened? I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t keep pretending I still have a reason to go on…”
Sato turned to look down at her resurrected self, a young girl caked in dirt and ash, tears flooding down the young girl’s cheeks. She gripped her umbrella blade firmly and narrowed her eyes on Ryosai once more. They burned a mesmerizing violet, and in turn, Ryosai’s glasses reflected the vivid color. “Since that day, there has always been a hole in my heart. Like an incomplete jigsaw puzzle. A missing piece that can never be replaced. That void may be the source of all my fear… all my sadness… but it’s there nonetheless. It’s proof that Mother existed. That she did all she could for my sake. …How could I possibly dishonor her struggle by giving up now? No. This loss is a burdensome weight, but it’s a weight I will forever carry with pride. Until the day I’m buried beneath warm soil, I will live happily, come rain or shine.”
Following her words, the Maiden of the Rain diverted her focus from Ryosai to the largest of the tears peeling across thin air. With one rain-drenched slash, she cut open the tear as wide as she could. Ryosai attempted to stop her, but he was far too late. The tear split completely open, weakening the abstracting dimension they were trapped in. Eventually, the threads keeping the static memory held together firmly snapped and came undone. A blindingly white fugue enveloped them both, and they were promptly returned to reality.
Sato and Doctor Ryosai appeared in the middle of the storm’s wake. The rain had continued to flood the streets of Reville, and the specter had put up quite the fight. All of the Kirinai exorcists apart from the head monk and his apprentice had been reduced to shattered bones and mutilated flesh. The phantom had many wounds in it. Spectral cuts in its chest and abdomen.
“Sato! Ryosai! Are you two alright?” Tien shouted over the raging storm. Her voice could barely be heard between the never-ending downpour, the howling winds, and the banshee’s shrieking.
“Haah… We’re fine!” she responded, but her enthusiasm was cut short. The weeping ghost drifted toward her and Ryosai, her claw of a hand outstretched to cut them in half.
The doctor knew his fate was sealed. He raised his arms, awaiting the coming end.
Before its claw reached him, however, it was blocked by the dark plume of the Maiden’s umbrella canopy. It was extended outward, acting as a shield against the oncoming attack.
Making use of the short opening, Ma’at ran to the specter’s side and slashed upward with both blades, cleaving its arms off. The incorporeal limbs flew out into the street, then faded from existence. The ghost let out an ear-piercing cry.
“Wait! Wait!” Ryosai cried.
Ma’at halted, her blades raised aloft to deal the finishing blow. It wasn’t Ryosai’s voice that stopped her, though, but Sato’s forlorn expression.
“Just… allow me to converse with her. I only want to confirm my suspicions.” The doctor approached the apparition with caution, his hands raised to try to calm the creature. “Shino, if it’s truly you, I just have one thing to say. I’m… I’m sorry. I wish I could have done more for you and Sato. I wish I had done more for her instead of abandoning her in my grief. There was no way I could have taken care of a child when I had lost the will to take care of myself. I wish… I wish that we had met under better circumstances.”
The entity’s shrieking had stopped. Its pale eyes gazed lifelessly at Ryosai as if it were really listening to him.
He reached into his pockets and took out the shattered pieces of Shino’s idol. Holding them with both hands, he offered them to the specter. “Please, my dear. Accept it. You can repair it, good as new. You can believe in any god you want, the Monarch or Deus Come Thus, I don’t care. Just… please… come back to us.”
What happened next, at least how it was described, varied from person to person. Ma’at, Tien, Sato and Ryosai experienced similar yet different things. Although, Ryosai’s version was the most pleasant, and brought him to a catharsis that seemed impossible beforehand.
The specter’s form, in his view, appeared less ghastly during its final moments. Its form was distorted and wavering, but it seemed as if it really were Shino’s soul given form through his eyes. Spindly light coalesced around one of its severed limbs, creating for it a new arm temporarily. With it, it took the pieces of Shino’s crushed idol into its palm and held it close to its heart. Very, very quiet voices could be heard. Distant voices. Repeating memories and emotions held within the wooden shards. The ghost closed its teary eyes, smiled, then faded away in the winter wind.
And the storm began to subside as the echo drifted out of sight.
That was when Dr. Ogata Ryosai fell to his knees, his clinical facade shattered, and he started to weep. And cry. But, for the first time in decades, he was not alone in his sadness. Sato joined him, side by side on the street corner, their pants wet from the countless puddles on the ground, and cried for a woman that would never return.
