Red Winter (The Red Winter Trilogy Book 1) by Annette Marie
“It hasn’t been cleaned. It needs—”
“It’s nothing.”
She froze at his icy tone, his voice dipping dangerously close to the threatening croon from the first night they’d met.
“Fine,” she snapped, snatching his kosode out of his hand. She backed out of the bathroom and snapped the sliding door closed with a little more force than necessary.
Muttering under her breath, she returned to her room to collect her own white laundry, including the thoroughly stained haori and kimono she’d worn during her meeting with Yumei. Irritation sharpened her motions. He didn’t have to be so rude, so harsh. She was just offering to help. He didn’t want it, didn’t like being indebted to a human. He didn’t trust that her kindness had no strings attached. He’d probably lashed out because he was feeling defensive.
She marched to the opposite end of the house. In the laundry room, she spent several minutes treating all the stains before loading the washing machine. Kamigakari didn’t normally do their own laundry, but she’d learned how a year ago after the elderly miko of the tiny shrine she’d been living at injured her back and needed extra help. Once the wash was going, she raided the kitchen for yesterday’s leftovers. With a bowl of stewed beef and potatoes that Nanako would not be pleased to discover missing and a pair of chopsticks in one hand, she returned to her room.
To her surprise, Shiro was already there. He sat beneath the window, head leaned back against the wall and hair mussed from being towel dried. His eyes cracked open at the sound of the door, ruby slits turning lazily toward her.
Her feet rooted themselves to the floor, refusing to move as a strange heat rose through her. His injured shoulder had distracted her before, but this time it would have taken a meteor striking the house to tear her attention away from his shirtless torso. She hadn’t known the male body could look so … so perfect. The way his shoulder muscles smoothly transitioned into the curves of his biceps. The shadowed dip between his collarbones. The flat expanse of his chest above smooth, lean abs. The dark ties of his hakama wrapped low around his hips, a sharp contrast to his fair skin.
She swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and dragged her stare up to his face. A sly, crooked grin lifted one corner of his mouth. Her cheeks burned hotter.
“I—” It came out in a squeak. She swallowed again, more forcefully. “I brought you something to eat.”
His gaze flicked to the dish in her hands. She forced herself to move. Each step closer to him seemed to increase the temperature in the room. Stretching her arms out to their full extent, she held the bowl out to him.
Amusement glinted in his eyes as he reached for the dish. His fingers brushed across her hand and hot tingles shivered up her arm. She jerked back, dropping the bowl like it was on fire. He caught it, but the chopsticks fell into his lap.
She backed toward the door as fast as she could without running. “I—I need to check on the laundry.”
Diving into the hallway, she shut the door and rushed away from her bedroom, breathing hard. What was wrong with her? So he looked good out of a shirt. Her reaction was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. She retreated to the laundry room and ended up pacing back and forth, muttering sternly to herself. Her lack of exposure to attractive men in the past had caused her to overreact to Shiro’s partial nakedness. She’d seen shirtless men before … on magazine covers … or from a distance. Not from a few feet away. Not in her bedroom. Not shirtless men who’d touched her, carried her, saved her life.
But he’d also deceived and tricked her. Yokai. He was a yokai.
When she was certain she was in control and wouldn’t make a fool of herself again, she returned to the hall outside her bedroom. She stood in front of the door, took another deep breath, and slid it open.
Shiro was exactly where she’d left him. The empty bowl and chopsticks sat beside him, its contents already devoured. His head rested against the wall once more, but this time he didn’t open his eyes. Now that her brain was functioning, she noted that the wounds that had almost killed him when they first met had faded to faint red marks that would soon be gone, and the new injuries were already healing.
She took a hesitant step into the room. “Shiro?”
His left ear twitched toward her but otherwise, he didn’t react.
She moved closer. Was he messing with her? “Shiro?”
His eyes didn’t open. He was asleep.
She put her hands on her hips, considering him. Should she wake him and send him away? She couldn’t leave him here, asleep. If Fujimoto or Nanako came by, they would discover him. She should kick him out and let him sleep elsewhere. But where? And if he left, would he actually sleep or would he go back to hunting oni at Yumei’s command?
His kosode was still in the wash. She couldn’t send him away without it. Nodding to herself, she tiptoed past him to her desk and sat. Yes, she would let him sleep until his kosode was out of the wash. She’d need to dry it too. That would take another hour. He could get a little sleep until then.
She picked up one of the books she’d borrowed from the old storehouse and started reading a history of kamigakari that she hoped might provide further clues as to the accuracy of the kannushi manual. Her hands tightened on the book. If all went well tomorrow, she wouldn’t need to do any further research; Izanami would tell her what was coming for her on the solstice. What if it was all true? Could Emi accept her fate and wait for her inevitable demise? Or would she beg the kami to spare her life? Could she do that? Regardless of the lies that had carried her to this time and place, could she turn her back on duty and honor?
Not wanting to think about it, she glanced over her shoulder at Shiro. After a moment watching him, his face soft and peaceful in sleep, she turned her chair so she could see him more easily. This was a good opportunity to desensitize herself to the sight and proximity of a partially undressed male. She just needed to get used to it, that’s all. She wasn’t watching him for any other reason.
Repeating that to herself, she returned her attention to the book and tried not to glance up more often than every paragraph or two.
Chapter 14
Shifting her weight from foot to foot, Emi tried her best not to look guilty.
She stood in the middle of a group of worshippers mingling around the shrine courtyard. Saturday afternoons brought in a small rush of townspeople visiting the shrine. Some came to pray, and others came to enjoy a social outing. Children were playing tag, running in and out of groups of adults, and a gathering of young teenagers sat on the bench under the sacred tree, comparing collectible cards of some kind.
Emi drifted among the townspeople, blending in as much as she could. Her long hair was bundled into the smallest, tightest bun she could manage, and she wore a knitted gray hat on top. It fit with the gentle snow swirling down from the overcast sky, though the temperature was quite warm and the snowflakes melted on the stones beneath her feet.
She’d abandoned her kimono and hakama for a slightly mismatched outfit comprised of the plaid, pleated skirt from her old school uniform, a plain white blouse—the school logo painstakingly removed last night—and a scarf around her neck and shoulders. It was the best she could do; aside from her school uniforms, the shrines had never provided her with modern clothes. Under one arm, she carried an oversized cloth grocery bag. The straps cut into her shoulder but she tried not to show any sign of discomfort.
The afternoon was waning and with each passing minute, she grew more nervous. She’d sent Katsuo off on an invented errand and Fujimoto was in his office, but Nanako was dutifully greeting and assisting the shrine visitors. She stood by the torii, bowing to the people coming and going. Emi bit her lip. All she needed was a large group to leave so she could slip out with them and avoid Nanako. Why wasn’t anyone leaving?
She pushed the bag up her shoulder, jostling it a bit out of nerves. It jingled noisily and a low growl rumbled from it.
“Keep quiet,” she hissed, then looked around in alarm, h
Pulling it open a little, she glanced inside. A cloth pouch held an assortment of small change that she’d stolen from the shrine donation box last night. She would have felt guilty stealing from Fujimoto or Nanako, but stealing from Amaterasu she could live with. Her kami owed her at least that much.
In the bag with her ill-gotten money, the white fox glared at her with ruby eyes, his ears pinned to his head.
“You told me to figure out how to get there,” she whispered, trying not to move her lips. “Stop complaining just because you don’t like it.”
He growled again. She casually pinched the top of the bag shut with her elbow so no one would inadvertently notice that she was carrying a fox in her grocery bag. She could have picked up Shiro outside the shrine grounds, but either way, she needed to smuggle him onto the train and this was easier.
She glanced toward the torii. Nanako was still there. As she frowned in the miko’s direction, a familiar face passed by. Emi straightened, her head snapping around.
“Miyako?”
The girl turned, her ponytail bobbing. For a moment, she looked confused, then her face brightened.
“Emi! I didn’t recognize you for a second there. Do you have today off?”
“I—yes, it’s my day off.”
“Awesome! Are you heading into town? I already did the praying thing.” She pulled a face. “Not sure I’m doing it right. Anyway, want some company?”
“Oh. Yeah, yeah, that would be great.”
As she spoke, a large extended family—including the rambunctious children who’d been playing tag—headed for the torii. Emi looked around wildly, grabbed Miyako’s hand, and hauled her after the family.
“Let’s go!” She beamed, hoping it didn’t look forced.
The loud group compressed to fit through the torii, the adults smiling and bowing to Nanako. Emi ducked her head, putting Miyako between herself and Nanako. They passed through the torii with brief bows as Nanako called a friendly greeting to another family. Only when Emi reached the bottom of the steps did she relax.
“Have you been to town yet?” Miyako asked.
“Not yet.”
“I can give you a tour! There isn’t much to see but you might as well see it anyway, right?”
Emi glanced up nervously as they passed under the second torii. She was outside the shrine grounds once more, but with a large group of chattering humans ahead of her, she wasn’t too worried about yokai.
“That’s very kind of you,” Emi answered. “I actually need to visit Kigiku today. Would you mind showing me to the train station?”
“I don’t think there are any trains to Kigiku on weekends.” Miyako pulled out her cell phone, missing Emi’s stricken expression. Her fingers danced over the glowing screen. “Let’s see … no, no trains, but there’s a bus. Leaves in half an hour.”
“Oh, a bus!” She breathed a sigh of relief. “That’ll work.”
“I can show you to the station—under one condition!” She held up a finger dramatically.
Emi blinked. “What condition?”
“I want to come too!” She grinned. “Kigiku has my favorite music shop. I’ve been meaning to go for weeks but I didn’t want to go alone and none of my friends want to waste an entire afternoon on the trip.”
“Oh. Um. I was going to meet some—some relatives, so I won’t be coming back tonight.”
“That’s fine. I can take the bus back myself after dinner.”
“I—” She couldn’t come up with a good reason to keep Miyako from coming along. If she were honest, she was more than a bit nervous to ride the bus to an unfamiliar city all by herself. Well, her and Shiro, but he didn’t really count. “That sounds great.”
Miyako beamed and launched into a detailed description of the guitar she’d been saving up for since her birthday. She still didn’t have enough money to buy it, but she wanted to visit the store and admire it some more.
As she talked, Emi nodded along, her stomach churning from a new wave of apprehension. She’d escaped the shrine, but now she was that much closer to meeting Izanami and finding out the truth once and for all.
Nestled between a pair of mountains, the town of Kiroibara was a small community of about five thousand people. It had two main roads, and Emi and Miyako had to walk through most of the town to get to the bus station. Miyako filled the silence with happy chatter, pointing out the houses of people she knew and other landmarks. Small, slightly shabby houses lined the quiet streets, but despite the worn looks of their homes, the owners kept their streets scrupulously free of snow.
Taking the bus was a simple-enough affair, though Emi embarrassed herself by paying for her ticket with a huge handful of coins. On the bus, Miyako led the way to the long bench at the very back. A few minutes later, the bus rolled into motion, the engine rumbling loudly. Half a dozen other passengers stared out the windows or gazed robotically at their phones.
“Phew,” Miyako remarked, slumping in her seat and stretching out her legging- and boot-clad legs. “We almost missed it.”
“Yeah, that was close.” Emi set her bag down gently on the bench beside her, resisting the urge to check on Shiro. She leaned back, trying to get comfortable. “How did things go with that boy … Yasu?”
“Hmm? Oh, he asked out my friend instead.” She heaved a sigh. “Whatever. If he’s not interested, I won’t chase him.”
“Oh,” Emi said, not sure how to respond. “You, uh, don’t need a guy like that.” Was that the right sort of response?
A quiet snort, nearly absorbed by the sound of the bus, came from her bag.
“Definitely not.” Miyako sat up. “I really did think he liked me though. You know the way a guy will kind of stare into your eyes when he’s talking to you, even when what he’s saying isn’t that serious?”
“Um.” Did she? She supposed Katsuo sometimes did that. Did … did Katsuo like her that way? She’d assumed his attention was a combination of him eagerly fulfilling his sohei duties and his natural kindness.
“Yasu was always doing that. I guess I was reading too much into it.” She brushed her hair out of her face. “Let’s not talk about guys. How have you enjoyed your first week here?”
“It’s been very nice,” Emi lied. “The mountains are beautiful and—”
The bus driver slammed on the brakes. Miyako and Emi lurched forward, and before Emi could catch it, her bag tipped off the seat—and Shiro tumbled across the floor of the bus with a startled yelp. Emi froze.
Miyako gasped. As the bus driver called back an apology for the sudden stop, several other passengers looked around for the source of the yelping sound. Their mouths fell open. Emi cringed, halfheartedly reaching down for Shiro.
“Oh my god!” Miyako’s whole face lit up. “That is the cutest dog I’ve ever seen!”
Emi froze all over again. Dog? He still looked very much like a ruby-eyed fox to her.
“Oh, what a cutie! Is she friendly?” Miyako jumped up and scooped Shiro into her arms, squeezing him against her chest. “Oh, aren’t you adorable? Oh, just so adorable, yes you are.”
She plopped back into her seat beside Emi, clutching the fox tightly. Shiro glared at Emi, ears flattened against his head. She looked back at him helplessly.
“What’s her name?” Miyako asked, petting his head. “She’s soooo cute!”
“Um, actually, he’s a boy …”
“Aww, a little boy doggie? What’s his name then?”
“Shiro,” she said weakly. “He’s, um, he’s a bit shy. Maybe I should …?”
When she reached for Shiro, she feared Miyako wouldn’t relinquish him. But the girl pouted in a cheerful way and let Emi pull him from her lap.
“What breed is he?” a middle-aged man a few seats ahead of them asked, turning to watch them as the bus picked up speed, leaving the town behind. “I’ve never seen a dog quite like that.”
“He’s a … a mixed breed. I’m not sure.?
“Oh, you don’t have to hide him away,” the passenger said with a polite smile. “The driver won’t mind. You don’t mind, do you, Takahashi?” he called up the length of the bus.
“Animals aren’t allowed,” the driver called back over the sound of the engine. “But as long as it behaves …”
“Um,” Emi mumbled. “Thanks …”
Shiro wiggled out of her arms and hopped onto the seat beside her. He sat with his side pressed against hers and watched the other passengers, his ears alternating between swiveling rapidly and flattening against his head in displeasure. Every moment or two, he shot her a glare.
As Miyako and the middle-aged passenger talked about their favorite dog breeds, Emi leaned back against her seat, trying to relax. At least no one had recognized Shiro as a yokai—or even as a fox. Either they didn’t know what a fox looked like, or he didn’t look the same to them as he did to her. To her, kami and yokai were more real than the popular television shows everyone else talked about. But for the average person, kami were just the names attached to the shrines where they occasionally prayed, and yokai were myths and tales from a time long past.
As the scenery outside the bus windows changed from farmland to forested mountainsides, Emi chewed on her lip with increasing tension. There was no way her absence from the shrine would go unnoticed this time. She’d left a note in her room explaining she had something important to do and would be back as soon as possible, but Fujimoto and Nanako—not to mention Katsuo and Minoru—would all be furious with her. And with Ishida arriving to check on her tomorrow …
Miyako stretched her arms over her head and yawned before turning to Emi. “I talked way too much about my guitar obsession. What about you? What do you do for fun when you’re not doing miko things?”
Emi’s heart sank. “I … I don’t really do much.”
Miyako blinked in confusion. “You don’t have any hobbies? At all?”
“The shrines have monopolized my time since I was quite young,” Emi said, choosing her words carefully. Shiro sat beside her, staring at the passing mountains with obvious boredom, but one of his ears was turned toward her.