During the first years of the colonisation, Takeshi Kofuku’s first and greatest retainer, Tensuke Yamashiro, believed that the storms of Daizo-Shikigami could be interpreted. With a great deal of paraphysical analytics and a great ability for magical reality bending, he proposed to the Daimyo that an instrument could be created to at the very least predict upcoming periods of heavy lightning and wild winds that would render expansion and construction impossible. Given that by that point, any purely scientific forecasts had failed, the Takeshi Kofuku had granted his retainer many craftsmen and researchers with which to accomplish this feat. The result after three straight months of construction was the Kaze no Ma, or the Wind Hall, located on the third level of the main palace.

Akiraka Kofuku paused at the top of the stairs, in front of where the wind chimes started. Her mother never called her, never texted her, not even through Shuu or any of the palace staff, and now she wanted to talk? Either it was important, or something had really, really changed in the half-year she was gone with Barrett’s troupe.

The sound of metal-on-metal told her immediately that another door somewhere on the level had been opened, and given the distance it was likely on the other side of the hall. Kofuku carefully walked in, ducking not to touch the charms in the doorway and peering down the length of the room. There were four main pillars, with beans running between them along the ceiling, and from every inch of them, metal charms hung, drifting gently in the breezes blowing through from the double doors at the end and the extra channels built into the outer walls, now sealed shut. Curious, Kofuku pushed aside some of the hanging decorations and peered inside one of the four corners, spotting a lone cushion sitting on the floor mat rather than the machines she remembered. Now that there were no storms threatening their existence, she supposed the sounds of the charms would be soothing for many, and made a mental note to use the facilities when she had the time.

Through the doors at the end, she could see the Lord Regent on the veranda, looking out over the stone railings towards the mountains.  Kofuku made a point to run her hands through some charms and make some noise near the exit before walking out to meet her. A light wind was indeed blowing down from the peaks carrying with it a scattering of ice crystals that melted against her cheeks. “I love the view,” she said, stopping about a metre away on the same railing.

“It’s a bit mixed for me,” the Lord Regent said, her long pink hair billowing in the wind. “Do you remember that night? The night Tensuke died. You were seven.”

“Wasn’t it a particularly bad storm?”

“The windchimes were very, very noisy. The scribes couldn't take all the readings,” she mused. “You know back then, they weren't all metal.”

“Yeah. I helped Adam replace them.”

“I was so worried. That you and your father would never come back. That I’d never see that pretty smile of yours again.” She turned to look at Kofuku, but her expression wasn’t exactly jovial either. “When he carried you back through the storm, I was so relieved. That was the only thing I’ve ever held against our kami-sama.” She glanced back over the mountains, where the spine bones no longer remained, cut down in the past decades of mining, but the bright pink of the ”everlasting sakura” groves that flanked the dam remained.

“I don’t remember much. Just a lot of wind. I screamed a lot, I think. Then…father.”

“He’s still the bravest man I know. Coming out here should have killed us, and he fought to prevent that.”

“What is this about, mother?”

The Lord Regent took a deep breath before replying. “Orotsu no Morite.”

“Tidekeepers. Shuu told me they’ve been giving you trouble.”

“They knew you were coming back even before I did. They wanted access to the hall. I said no, naturally.”

“Even if they wanted to read the wind, we’ve changed all the chimes. Doesn’t work like in the olden days. Well, it never worked. That day I was out it was read as a clear day, wasn’t it? And it was probably the worst storm we had.”

“They’ve been leaving things in the palace grounds. Notes, manuscripts, charms. All of it their blasted preachings. And people listen. You know they do.” She waved for an attendant at the edge of the veranda, who came over and handed her a tablet. “Have you heard what they’re saying?”

“I haven’t had the time.”

The Lord Regent held up the screen, on an image of the exact same view, from almost the same spot. In the foreground was herself and her mother, smiling at the camera. “Two winters ago. Compare.”

Kofuku stepped aside to be perpendicular to the screen, and shimmied around to match up the landscape. The green of the pseudo-conifers, which shed their leaves later in the year, was present in both photos, but…she stepped out and looked across the landscape again. Her eyes scanned for the edge of their forests. They were definitely a lot less green, and seemed to have shrunken. “That’s weird.”

“The Tidekeepers say the kami-sama is dying.”

“He’s already dead.”

“Dead things can’t conjure storms either, Akiraka.”

“I did study for this, you know. When a great big magical thing dies its magic doesn’t go anywhere, it sticks around and causes environmental consequences. Father just sucked the bad parts all up into a sword and then everything got better.”

“They’re saying because he did that, the world is dying. That the lifeblood is drying up. And of course, they have a solution.”

“Of course they do,” Kofuku muttered, leaning against the railing. “Why don’t you just meet with them?”

“What kind of ruler do you think I have been?”

“A competent one? Everything’s in tip-top shape. That deal with Geoagris was huge…” She tried to think of something else. “Adam hasn’t starved to death,” she pointed out.

“That is part of the problem. They think I care too much for the other worlds instead of looking in and strengthening traditions. Close ranks. We both know the less of that stuff, the better.”

“Well, I still don’t have the sword, so they’re not going to like me either.”

“But you are his blood.” Her mother reached out to cup her face. “Oh, my beautiful daughter. They will talk to you, even only to pass his blame on. That’s much more than I can do these days.”

Kofuku grabbed her mother’s wrist. “You beat the cancer, okay? A bunch of kooky priests is nothing to you. Whether or not they’re right, once I find the sword again and everything’s gonna be okay.”

The Lord Regent nodded. “They wanted to meet you. Should I invite them in?”

“No, that’s giving them what they want. I’ll ask Shuu where they are and I’ll go talk to them. Today, I promise.” She leaned over and kissed her mother on the forehead. “Just keep doing what you’re good at. I think father would be proud.”

That, finally, brought a smile to her face.

Kofuku took her leave through the hall again, pausing in the middle to listen to the chimes, and then stepped out to the stairs to find Shuu half a level down, staring at her.

“What was it?”

“Tidekeepers want to use the Wind Hall for some reason. And she’s starting to catch on quick.”

Shuu’s expression hardened. “That’s not good. I haven’t even gotten anything new out of my dad’s machines yet.”

“It’s fine. When does the market start?”

Shuu looked at his watch. “Four-thirty. Really gets going after five though.”

“Have those two properly dressed by ten to five and meet me at the staff gate.”

“I must say Mr. Richard is quite…how do I say this? Depressed. He’s so extremely depressed. What did you say to him?”

She lifted her arm with the little metal bracelet to show him. “He can’t shock me without a piston pushing into his brain. Extremely painful. Just likes to be on top, I guess. Maybe don’t force him if he really resists.”

Yamashiro bowed, and went back down the steps.

Despite Shuu’s concerns, it appeared he had managed to get Richard out of bed. The two of them looked almost like characters from a buddy cop comedy - admittedly not too far from their current circumstances - with Falano looking surprisingly feminine in a white inner gown and brown outer fur coat, and Richard in blue with a black sash and trim, on which the characters for “blessings” and “prosperity” were printed. Certainly out of place demographically, but since the fall of the Shogunate, nobody would bat an eye.

Falano lifted his arm and stared at the drooping sleeves. “I look like a fucking clown.”

“That implies you didn’t look like one normally.” Kofuku passed Richard a plastic oni mask, while she herself put on a red tengu one. “Thought you’d get there before me, Ritchie.”

“There would be no point.” He strapped his mask on, despite his slumped poster. “This is a waste of time. And don’t call me that.”

She lifted the mask to her forehead. “Alright dick.”

“How come I don’t get a mask?” Falano asked.

“You’re literally already wearing one. Besides…” She reached around to the bag at her waist, and grabbed an object wrapped in white cloth, before holding it out to him. “...if this goes south I might need help.”

He picked the cloth off, and tilted his head at the sight of his plasma pistol. “Oh?”

“I opened your box and saw like three more of those, so I figured you really like plasma. Just keep it out of view and come when I call.”

He stuffed the gun deep inside his clothes, magnetising it to his torso. “And before that?”

She gestured towards the faint noises of the food market outside, at the soft drumbeats, the half-drunken singing, the sound of children. The sun had already gone down thanks to the significant tilt of the planet, and festivities were in full swing. “You’re free to enjoy yourself until then. As long as you’re not hurting anyone.” She looked at Richard. “I swear if you hurt a kid I’m going to actually start cutting out bits of your brain.”

The Venator said nothing, his expression hidden behind the mask.

Kofuku produced a small keycard and tapped it at the reader next to the gate, allowing her to push it open. She handed it to Falano. “In case you need to get back in.” After a quick glance to see if anybody was watching, she stepped out and lowered her mask. There was a parade of some sort going on, and all eyes were on that rather than them. “Act natural. Have some fun, yeah?”

“Yeah, sure boss,” Richard muttered.

Kofuku led the way down to the main square, where some kind of raffle was going down around the big silver tree, a blindfolded woman waving her hands around in a three-dimensional projection to try and grab a number. As she did, holographic fireworks went off, and the host declared a minor prize to the sound of someone playing a lute dramatically. They went past a stall selling grilled rice cakes with sweet-salty sauce on them, drawing Falano’s gaze, and then one where chestnuts were being roasted over a plasma stove, letting off an incredible earth fragrance. There was another tree, this one surrounded by stands that hung little wooden plaques and the blessings written upon them. A shrine maiden in a white fox mask bowed slightly hand held out some empty plaques, mainly at the downtrodden Richard.

“First time on a Kōrō world, sir?”

Richard seemed stunned, and stuttered his reply: “Y-yes. How…how are you doing?”

“I’m doing just fine. Have you ever done one of these?”

“N-no? What is this?” He looked at Falano and Kofuku.

Kofuku just winked at him.

“They are ema,” the shrine maiden went on. “You write your best wishes on them, and we put them up on the racks. Then, at the end of the week, we burn them to release your wishes.”

“Burn them? Why?”

“Well it’s symbolic, you see. There’s a lot of symbolism…”

Her voice faded away as Kofuku kept walking, with Falano in tow. “I’m kind of glad he’s not that racist.”

“What are those?” He pointed across the main street, at a group of three people in light clothes, inverted straw baskets over their heads. Each had a long wooden flute held under the gap in their headgear, playing long, monotonal sounds.

“Komusō. They’re wandering monks that travel between temples and monasteries. The flute is kind of…something to do with clearing your mind and being absent of ego.”

“Sounds like a sad life.”

“Some people don’t need much. Oh, here!” She stopped in front of a dark alleyway, connecting the main street to the next one over, with colourful lantern lights hanging above it. “Hopefully you won’t have to do anything at all.”

“Aaaaand you just jinxed it. Go on, I’m watching. And I’ll have one of those please.” He said to the vendor who was stirring a large pot of soup and a variety of fried fishcake shapes, before leaning over to the little box on the counter and paying with a signal from his mask.

Kofuku chuckled to herself, then walked in and stopped in the middle of the alley. She breathed into her hands and rubbed them together to warm them up a little. Then she placed them together over her heart in a prayer. “Yatsu shita katarite, hitotsu no unmei,” she whispered.

It took a moment, but the brick wall to her left suddenly came apart, sliding back and then hinging open to reveal a darkened staircase along the outer wall. She made eye contact with Falano’s mask one more time before stepping in, immediately being hit by a wall of perfumed incense. As she descended, the smell got even more suffocating, and the air was thick with incense smoke. There was another doorway to the side at the bottom, covered in a thick curtain that was discoloured from its usual dark green by exposure to the incense, and she pushed this aside to enter the next room, instantly being met by an unusual sight.

Someone had elected to duplicate the general structure of a shrine directly into the basement, complete with red pillars and fences that stopped at the ceiling instead of having a roof, and two towering statues of muscular demons acting as support on either side of the entrance. A massive metal incense burner stood in the corner of the room, with what seemed like hundreds of sticks of incense still smoking away, and a figure in a black robe and veil motioned her towards the opening, sealed with more curtains, and Kofuku ducked in.

As if the outside wasn’t surreal enough, the inside was a fever dream. The eight support columns of the “shrine” each had the shape of a coiled serpent going up them, and each little childlike jizo statue she spotted between all the hanging paper streamers had a fanged, serpentine head. The black stone of the altar held three bowls: one each for rice, sake, and what seemed to be purple flowers served stems and downturned petals. Two lanterns hung from the ceiling, a deeper red than any others she had seen that played off the dark wood in the walls.

“Daughter of the Serpent-Blade.”

Kofuku stepped around the altar, just in time for the paper screen in the back to light up with yet another blood-red lantern. The light cut the shape of a sitting woman, covered from the head down in a long shroud. At last after years of indirect contact, she was face-to-face with the Keepers of the Hollow Tide.