I reappeared in a damp grass field of mizubasho; the first time I ever felt organic nature. Dots of tiny flowers scattered as far as I could see, until they disappeared at the base of the mountains surrounding this plain, with small streams slithering throughout – a wonderful sight to behold. It reminded me of my short time in Elysium.

The grass was as tall as my ankles. I bent down to touch their thin blades and felt them under my fingertips, and pitied myself for not being able to appreciate the delightful scenery fully because of the sorrow clinging tightly in my chest.

After enough time admiring the place, I turned back to the purpose of my journey. Over there, almost at the end of the plain, lay a village. It seemed dilapidated and abandoned, but it was likely the only chance to meet any person at that place. I doffed my geta and my tabi to feel the soft soil beneath my feet. The dark clouded sky foretold the rain, still, I chose to walk, perhaps just to delay my time to reach the destination where something unknown waited for me.

As I walked, I noticed weird noises from under the grass. I thought they were from some small animals, but no, those curious humanoid creatures didn’t feel like mere animals. They were about the size of my palm. Their limbs were arranged as a little person, but each of them wore a mask of bizarre designs. After the first of them came to shyly observe me, didn’t know that I could see them. Then the second followed… then the third, the fourth, the fifth… it must have been at least a dozen of them the moment I turned my head to let them know that I acknowledged their existence. And all of a sudden, they all disappeared back into the elements. I continued on my way. A few of those tiny creatures were brave enough to reappear, but then vanished again once a stranger’s clicks of tengu-geta came towards me.

He was a Buddhist monk by his clothing. His face was concealed under a kasa. He was a man of small build, but the tall teeth of his geta lifted him to be about the same height as me.

He asked me where I was heading. I told him the truth.

“Only the dead are in the village now,” replied the monk. He advised me to accompany him. Without much knowledge of this land, I followed him.

We walked together in silence. The sky roared behind us. I could feel the moisture in the air. Rain was not far away.

Not long before the half-ruined shrine gate came into view, an ever-blossoming sakura tree stood magnificently in solitude amid the decrepit surroundings, a brave reminder of the beauty this place once had.

Under the shrine gate, a man sat there, hugging his katana, as if waiting for something. The monk introduced Gyozo to me. He asked for my name. It made me delighted that my name reminded him of butterflies.

The rain poured once all of us were safe under the roof. The monk and Gyozo made a fire to cook some miso soup and rice, which I politely declined when they offered the food to me.

I knew I was supposed to hide from rain, but I couldn’t resist my curiosity – real rain that wasn’t from the Lady’s command. I stretched my arms to feel it. It was pure, without soot and dust like Sigilean rain. It refreshed my spirit.

I talked less than I wished to; still, it was enough to learn about the monk’s dedication to spread Buddha’s words and Gyozo’s final promise to his late master to slay his ghost every night.

Probably knowing I was a stranger to this region, the monk told me its story.

A long time ago, these mountains and plains were blessed by the kami, until a warlord decided to take all the prosperity for himself. He and his two sons seized control over this land by force, slaughtering all those who stood against them. That angered the kami. They cursed all the warriors with madness that drove them to murder each other, and their ghosts would rise every night to murder each other all over again.

And another story of Momotaro and the island of giants east of here, which I would need to use as a reference soon. However, contrary to the tale, the boy never came back.

A kami appeared as the crescent moon rose behind thick rain clouds, sitting alone in the empty yard. He simply looked like a fat, naked man. The monk said the kami never bothered to interact with anyone, so no one cared to speak to it.

So I walked through the rain to sit beside it at a considerable distance. It paid me no mind. I looked at the pale, glowing moon. It must have been beautiful here without the rainclouds.

At that instant, the sound of hoofs thundered towards us. The kami quickly turned its head and disappeared before the samurai arrived. Gyoza prepared his katana, the same ritual that repeats every night that he tied himself to a dead man’s request.

The leader of the ghost troop got down from his horse. Gyoza stepped down to meet him. Both of them eyed each other for a long while, preparing their stance, looking for the best way to strike. The actual fight itself only happened in a flash of light when Gyozo’s late master charged, and the ronin ended it with only one precise swing of his sword.

As soon as the wraith was slain again, all the undead who followed him disappeared. The natural order of this land was restored.

Gyoza went back to rest. I returned to the dry floor under the tori. The ronin took my compliment on his swordsmanship with humility, which was worth even greater admiration.

I didn’t sit in silence with them for long after that. I bid my goodbye, and seeing them used to such things already, I didn’t attempt to hide when I entered the reflection on the wet fragments of the stone floor right outside their shelter.

I reemerged into the material world where the forest met the shore. There, the Island of Giants, an enormous mound of rock surrounded by tall, thin shards of the same element, forming a wall-like structure above the dark water. I could sense a strong magical essence of unpleasant kinds somewhere there.

I kept going despite knowing the danger. I let the gentle waves from the lake wash my ankle before stepping onto its reflection.

I headed towards the island when all of a sudden, a hand reached into the Realm of Reflection and grabbed me by my collar. I hated the fright when a stranger could snatch me from my homeplane. I got pulled out of reflection and slammed against a material rock wall. I didn’t try to get up for fear of offending the great enemy. It was Momotaro, or a part of him that was remembered by people. I could tell by the peach banner behind him.

He had a huge wooden club in one hand. Still, if he could take hold of me in the Mirror Plane, I dared not imagine what else he could do. My mana was still drained from the previous encounters. I wasn’t ashamed to kneel and beg when it came to the deserving people. He was kind enough to listen; however, his monkey wanted a gatekeeper’s fare. He desired my arcane signet, but I bargained with him to take my dear gem-embedded comb instead.

I walked towards the field of dead giants. Their broken, massive skeletons were scattered about, telling the story of a tragedy that began and ended before my time. The rocky ground was slippery with rainwater.

It wasn’t difficult to find a sign of life in that cold barren. Father was lying on a mound, looking up at the starless night sky. He didn’t respond to my present. His face was void of any emotion, his hair unkempt, and his tattered kimono uncared for. I would have asked about what could be on his mind at the moment if I weren’t too tired to verbalise my question.

“I’m here to take you home, Father,” as those words were uttered, Father jumped as if I had just said the most horrific profanity. He muttered madness and ran away down a slope, tripped on a defiant rock, and tumbled down.

I sauntered after to meet him at the foothill. He still lay there, motionless among the wild flowers. Well, how could I blame Father for running away from that painful responsibility? Even I wished not to return home at the time.

So I sat down beside him. I was glad enough to find him physically unharmed. I had nothing to say, so I waited. Picking those flowers to make a crown helped relieve me from the awful stillness. Once the crown was done, the rain stopped, and I asked if Father would like to wear it, for beauty might cheer him up – he didn’t reply, so I kept the garland in my hands.

Then I told him the story that met me along the journey that brought me here, of the monk who remained steadfast in his faith for Buddha, and of Gyozo, whose life was bound by a promise with the dead. They still had so much fight left in them, considering the little they had left.

I also told him how it reminded me of Mors and the curious choice he had recently taken that led him away from the way of life he had before he met me, about the Dustmen’s teaching, and how it’s similar to Buddha’s path… All the choices we made in life led each of us to where we are now.

“We lost so much. That’s true,” I said to Father, who remained lying quietly there, “but you still have your life to go on with. I love you, Father. And I believe brother Chosuke loves you, too… Should that be enough for us to keep going?”

This time, Father replied, with the story of this island when it was full of life.

Same as the tales were told, the oni lived by pillaging and murdering the human villagers on the mainland. However, there was an old and wise oni lady who wished to change their way of life. She knew the art of herbs and magic to create, and inspired my Father, who was her apprentice at the time, to reshape their society into a more civilised form. That was how Father met Chosuke; as a poor cat his mentor adopted to protect him from other mean, bigger cats. And when Momotaro came to slaughter the island, the old oni lady’s dream died with her – those who survived escaped. My Father came to Sigil, taking Brother Chosuke with him, while others scattered across the planes.

Father regretted his failed dream, an abandoned promise, and how he had treated his life after coming to Sigil in search of a new beginning. Returning to this place might have reawakened the hope he had before it turned to ruin… Father repented his business dogma, and how, despite trying to build his own family, he still treated it coldly, the same way he would treat his trade. This vacant island held the memory he had forgotten, and now it had come back to him, reigniting light in his eyes.

Father told me he felt like it might be too soon to tell me, but he finally said it, with his deep voice that felt as warm as the Elysium’s sun.

He said he loved me, not for the fact that my uncanny nature could provide for him, but because I was his son. He apologized for having treated me like a tool.

I knew from that moment. Even with his imperfections, I would follow him and love him as much as a son could. I just remembered that I didn’t leave the Constellation to lead a perfect life. I’m just here to live.

Father then revealed a little cloth bag from his sleeve. It held Soul Beads, a handful of them.

He let me know that he could predict the King of Thieves’ way of grieving, so he had put a piece of everyone’s essence inside the marbles. Everyone. Except one.

I took out the bead Torakoishi-san gave me, the one that contained Akiko-san’s essence. I held her between my fingers as the sunlight gradually painted the clouds above the mountains, giving the bead such a lovely glow.

“Torakoishi-san ate this one,” the casual words came out from me before I could process them. I couldn’t refrain from laughing in time. I heard the jingles of my voice before I knew it – I immediately tried to stop it from happening at such a moment.

“Torakoishi-san?” Father repeated and laughed. He laughed with his heart, his laughter bellowed with such sincerity I had never seen from him. The bass of his voice that echoed inside me felt like a hug.

 I put Akiko-san inside the bag with the others. I’d love to imagine this land finally felt alive again after a long time – with flowers, vegetation, rocks, and lake water bearing witness to our hopeful beginning as the first sun rays pierced through thick clouds. The glowing orb rose higher above the mountain ridge, brightening this cursed place and caressing it with gentle warmth. We watched the dawn pass us together. It was the first time I felt the sun on my face. It filled me with such bliss I knew not how to describe.

All stars burn in silence, not knowing how many lives they have made to feel loved.