“Get up, Ryo.”

He stirs awake in the dark of morning. His father is already dressed and waiting for him by the doorway to his room…

No, not his room: an inn. They had set out from their home in Edo almost three weeks ago. That’s how long it had taken them to travel across so many prefectures, almost half the country, to get to Nagasaki. It can’t be helped: his country is wary of foreigners and Chinese traders are only allowed at the port here on Dejima island. And Dejima is connected to Nagasaki by a lonesome bridge.

“We need to get to Dejima before first light. There’s going to be a gap in the night watch and we have a one-hour window to get across. The Liu family’s representative will be waiting for us there. Wake yourself up, Ryo, and let’s get going.”

Ryo brushes aside the burst of resentment in his chest for his father. He yawns, rubbing his eyes. “Okay.”

He’s only packed a spare change of clothes since they need to travel light. Their nation is very protective of itself, after all. Outsiders aren’t allowed in and they, the common folk, aren’t allowed out. Capture results in death. So yes, they take a risk every time they need to visit the Blackwoods, but Artifact business is Artifact business. Relying on the Artifact’s power— musubi —for a miracle like instant teleportation is impossible. According to his father, humans are unable to use its power because it is too pure and divine, so much so that human minds cannot handle it.

It is necessary to pay the Liu family a visit for precisely that reason: only the Liu family can teleport them to the Blackwoods directly. From what Ryo’s seen on his last visit, the Liu family has cultivated an alternative way to channel an Artifact’s power without having to meet certain conditions— man-made miracles, a way to use some semblance of musubi, more commonly known as qi in China.

Ryo carries his spare clothes in a pack on his back and tiptoes past other rooms, down the stairs, and to the front door where his father is already waiting.

“Ready, Ryo?”

He nods.

His father grabs his hand. “Don’t let go.”

The sky is beginning to lighten. Their hurried footsteps are quiet as they pass by the houses in the neighborhood. Merchants will set their stalls up soon, so they must pass this commercial section quickly.

They speed by a dojo and Ryo finds himself taking a second look back. His father tugs on his hand, and he looks up to see a stern expression. We have no time to waste, his father’s eyes seem to say.

Ryo redoubles his efforts to keep up. Trying to quiet his footfalls, he suddenly feels his father pull at his arm. He looks up again.

The lone bridge to Dejima is within sight now. Its rickety wooden railings leave a gridded silhouette in the faint morning sky. His father holds up a finger and Ryo nods back before pressing himself against the bamboo wall of the building they’re hiding behind. Cautiously, his father peers around the corner.

“Ryo,” he whispers, “the guards are gone for now. We need to be fast. Once we start running, we can’t stop. See the building there?”

Ryo carefully looks around. He takes in a lungful of air, holds his breath, and slowly lets it out in a sorry attempt to regulate his breathing. Across the bridge on Dejima island, there is a sentry post building with a low roof and staffed by a sleepy guard.

“We’ll need to make it past that building in one go.” His father kneels and beckons for him to climb atop his shoulders. Ryo, obediently, clambers up. He shivers as a cool breeze kicks up, blowing his hair into his eyes.

From his own bag, his father unfurls a long shimmering cloak of stars. Nebula dust swirls with every movement and wrinkle, a dark liquid sky that flickers in and out of existence. The stars dim after a moment. His father drapes it around them and Ryo presses his face into his father’s short hair, flattening himself as best as he can. 

His father, at times like this, seems like a completely different person. A gentle and good man.

If only it were true.

“I will use our Artifact to be safe. It’s appearance can serve as a natural camouflage in the cover of darkness, but we can still be heard. Quiet your breathing, and under no circumstances should you talk.”

The Artifact their family protects is precisely the cloak of stars that is now wrapped around Ryo’s small body, draping over his father’s figure. He’s seen it a handful of times, understanding that it is far too dangerous to have it fall into the wrong hands. It is hard to think of how precisely a cloak, of all things, can create miracles, but as long as the power within remains untouched… well, it’s just a cloak that looks like the night sky.

His father bows to the stars above, beginning a rite of protection from the gods for their journey. Ryo follows suit, hands clasped in prayer. Clothing shifts and water splatters to the ground as his father pours some drinking water from his flask over his hands. “Your hands, Ryo,” he commands. “Let us not forget our own gods in the face of other gods. It will do us no harm to seek protection from more sources on perilous journeys.”

Ryo sticks his hands out and his father pours a bit of water over his hands too. He rubs them together and, following his father’s motions, rubs the water onto his face.

“Again, Ryo,” his father tells him. Ryo sticks his hands out, this time to be handed a pint of salt. Together they rub the salt over their hands and faces. 

His father’s voice, still quiet, but loud enough that Ryo worries of attracting attention, chants a prayer:

“Spirits of purification, with all the respect from the depth of our hearts, we ask that they hear us with sharpened ears together with Spirits of the Sky and the Land. Take the badness, disasters, and sins, and purify all…”

Ryo mouths the words.

His father continues the chant, “Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto, Great Kami of the moon, You bless and protect us. Amaterasu Ōmikami, Great Kami of the sun, You bless and protect us. Fukurokuju, Kami of wisdom and longevity, lend us Your wisdom.”

As soon as his father finishes his last words, the stars on the cloak shimmer and shift.

“What now?” Ryo asks.

“Now, we go.”

His father picks up his bag, tightens his grip to keep the Artifact wrapped around them, and begins to run. Ryo holds on, grip around his father’s neck tightening as they near the bridge. The drying salt water on his face is cold and he shivers, gritting his teeth. Upon the bridge, his father slows to quiet his footsteps. The wooden planks beneath barely make a sound as they cross.

On the other side, a line of lonely boats bob at the waterfront. They belong to sailors and traders who have made the arduous journey to come and do business with Japan. Lantern light indicates some of the traders are up and about, perhaps preparing for a journey back home.

The sentry building is right in front of them now. Ryo notices his father holding his breath, so he does the same. The guard, blinking sleepily, stares straight at them— through them, in fact, without ever realizing something is wrong. It seems their family’s Artifact really is camouflage in plain sight.

His father takes them down winding streets, past several residences where he can hear different languages being spoken. He looks back in wonder, seeing silhouettes of the foreign residents against the paper screen windows.

“We’re here,” his father mutters, knocking on the door of a modest house. He sets Ryo down on the ground and removes the cloak. The nebulae of stars twirl and brighten as his father folds it back into his bag.

Shuffling is heard inside before the door slides open, revealing a young man in his twenties. Huddling in his nightwear, he greets them with the passcode Ryo has heard on his previous visit before. “We will meet again…”

“Where the white flower blooms in the Meadows below,” his father finishes.

No sooner than that does the young man yank them both inside. Shutting the door behind them, the young man properly introduces himself. “Chéng Hàoyǔ,” he starts, extending a hand. “But you can call me Hao. Thank you for making the journey.”

His father shakes the man’s hand. “Hao-san, thank you for providing us with accommodations.”

Hao smiles, nodding his head. “It is my duty as one of the retainers of the Liu family.” His gaze sweeps over to Ryo. “And this is your son, Ryo Otani, correct?”

Ryo shakes the extended hand, nodding. It would seem that every time, the Liu family sends a different retainer to collect them.

“Please, make yourselves at home and get some rest. We have a long journey ahead of us at first light,” Hao says, leading them to guest rooms on the first floor. Given that it is beginning to lighten outside, they have at maximum an hour more to sleep.

“Thank you.” His father ushers Ryo inside and tucks him into the covers of the futon. “Ryo, sleep well. I must discuss a few things with Hao-san first.”

A part of him wants to listen in on his father’s conversation, wondering if Lucy…Lucifer, the demon his father was talking to all those nights ago, would show up here again. But his young body is sleepy and full of aches from the journey so far.

With one last tired blink, he falls asleep.

SQUAWK! SQUAWK! SQUAWK!

Ryo groans, rubbing his tired eyes awake. It’s…midday? The sky is clear blue. And…

“Silver is all accounted for, Hao! We can set sail!”

“Right you are!” Hao hollers. “Let’s go!”

Great white sails puff in the wind and a strong salty breeze hits Ryo’s face. Excitement wells in his small chest and he scrambles up onto his feet. Peering out from behind the crates he was sleeping beside, he watches the crew tie the last of the goods into place. Hao stands at the helm of the ship, a fierce dragon at the figurehead behind him, the distinct symbol of the Liu family and an indication of the family’s ties to the Emperor.

“Awake, son?”

Ryo turns around, startled. His father merely smiles and offers him a meat bun. “You never miss the departure. I almost thought you were going to sleep through it this time.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” he huffs, biting into the bun. The juices fill his mouth as he watches the docks of Dejima disappear into a speck in the distance.

“You seemed really tired.”

“...Where are we gonna stop?” Ryo mumbles through his bite.

“The port of Shanghai,” Hao says, coming up to join them from behind. “Ryo, how are you feeling?”

“Great!” He’s always loved being on the water with the wind in his hair and the sea stretched vast before his eyes. He feels the most free when he’s farthest from home.

Hao chuckles. “Right, well, let’s get you and your father dressed appropriately before we arrive. Come,” he gestures for them to follow him into the cabin.

Moments later, Ryo fumbles with the buttons on his magua, a jacket with wide and short sleeves that goes over the changpao, a traditional Chinese robe made of cotton. “Is this really necessary,” he grumbles under his breath.

His father raises an eyebrow. “Of course it is. We’re going to see the Liu family because we need their help, and that means a formal audience. They are one of the oldest and most prestigious families…clans, perhaps is the better word, in China. We might as well be seeing their Emperor, given the influence they have.”

Ryo sighs. “Right…”

“Now, stop complaining. Watch and learn.” His father bends down to help him with his buttons. Once finished, he rises again, just in time for Hao to come knocking at the door.

“We’re done,” his father affirms.

The door opens and Hao smiles in satisfaction at the sight of them both dressed properly. “Good. We should be arriving late in the evening if the winds keep blowing favorably. In the meantime, you are free to wander at your leisure.”

“Excellent,” his father cheers. “I have research to finish and a report to write up. Where will you be, Ryo?”

“The deck…if that’s okay?”

Hao laughs. “I think your son has an affinity for the water. I’ll keep watch over him.”

“Behave, Ryo.”

“I will, Dad.”