Reverence
by Quintus

Humans like to imagine imps as troublemakers committed to harassing them on their journeys. It is true that we spread all manner of unpleasantness among humans; however, we no more do this purposefully than a raccoon or a fox purposefully transmits a pathogen or parasite. But all things organic and spiritual serve some ecological function in the community we call life, and the amanojaku's most important function is to provoke in others those desires they may prefer to keep hidden and tempt them toward action. In this way we serve to make creatures a little more daring, and to encourage them to engage in the carnal acts necessary for the propagation of the species, without the interference of the rational mind. No creature appreciates our role, but we live it out same as everyone.

It would surprise any human, then, to witness the imps' civilization rich in intellectualism, spirituality, literature, music, and everything else we could need to find fulfillment. Some of our homes and temples rank among the most visionary and creative structures ever conceived, if only humans could see them. It's only that these exist in places humans care not to look: in mists, in moonlight, in the changing tides, on the shifting sands. My home lay underground beneath the mountains near Shinshu, cold stone corridors lit and warmed by torches, and it was here that for the first twelve years of my life, I studied art, history, and science, but mostly the worship of the imps' patron deity, Orochi.

At that young age I and many of my peers were permitted to travel to the surface, where I encountered for the first time the heavenly shining body that was the sun. Its white light covered the land as far I could see, blinding me with its glare, and its heat brought about beads of perspiration in my armpits. I was so stricken with awe that I decided then and there to be the eternal servant of the being responsible for bringing this gift to Earth, Ōhirume-no-muchi-no-kami, the Heavenly Shining Great God, Amaterasu Ōkami.

Many of my brothers and sisters had gone with me, but they did not see in the sun what I saw, and they were all too eager to return to the safety and comfort of the dark. I did not reveal my feelings; but in my studies I found many opportunities to learn about the Great God Amaterasu, as her exploits were so inextricably linked with those of Orochi. It was many years later that I and my siblings reached adulthood, and were set upon the world to explore freely. Wearing the traditional black shogun robes of my people and packing as many of my possessions as I could carry upon my back, I set as my destination that tiny village which had been witness to the battle between Orochi and the Great God one hundred years previous, and where the shintai of the God now rested, Kamiki Village.

Early Spring—with the sun rising at my back, I could not have picked a better time for a pilgrimage. I was no fool, however, and I knew that the appearance of a kuro-amanojaku, a black imp such as myself would by quite shockingly fearsome outside our society. I knew not why; though my feet were quite like hands, this made it a simple matter to hold my okedō drum at the proper angle for playing, and my hair-covered body I fancied was soft and pleasant to the touch. Two pronounced fangs did extend quite far from my mouth, but humans found no fault in the pronounced meat-rending canines of their dogs and cats, and I should see no reason to fear the amanojaku custom of wearing the kana of the Iroha upon paper masks on our faces. Regardless, I knew it to be necessary for me to don human disguise, and don I did the visage of an elderly male bearing all the proper adornments of the Shinto pilgrim, from the white garments and bowl-shaped hat to the book of stamps, the hanging scroll, the prayer slips and candles and even the rosary and staff. I allow that I may have prepared too thoroughly for the role, as upon my entry I attracted the attention of nearly every villager, and I was met on the behalf of all of them by a man I judged to be the elder leader.

“Hoi, stranger,” spoke he. “I apologize our rudeness not to welcome you more formally. Though we do see pilgrims from time to time, we have not for a while seen one with such obvious dedication as yourself. Where from do you come?”

“No apology is needed,” spoke I. “My home is with a family of priests living in a small community quite far away from here. We live in isolation so as to experience the beauty and reverence to the gods without distraction. I have been on pilgrimage to many holy sites throughout our land, but none are more highly regarded than the shrine which honors the Great God Amaterasu, who together with the hero Izanagi slew the dreaded serpent Orochi.”

“There seems to be a matter of some confusion,” spoke he. “There is a shrine, but it is not for Amaterasu but rather the hero Izanagi who slew Orochi with the aid of a brave beast we call Shiranui. The shrine rests at the top of the hill, and many pilgrims have come to honor the heroes who freed our land from evil.”

This was a surprise to me. The Great God had of course walked the Earth in the form of a wolf, but I had assumed the humans, upon seeing her crimson-red markings, her mane of pure-white light, and the magnificent reflector she carried on her back, would recognize her divinity and repay her kind acts with proper worship. Had they truly attributed her actions to a mortal creature? I could hardly believe they could be so blind, but as I was still intent on visiting the slumbering God, I voiced not these objections and feigned to share in the humans' ignorance.

“I see. It must be that our information was corrupted by the passage of time and many tongues. I will inform my family upon my return, but in the meantime I would love to see the shrine of the two heroes.”

The elder led me to the stone staircase ascending the hill which overlooked the village, then further up the path to its peak. The shrine of the Great God was a shrine in the barest sense, as a torii gate opened into a clearing wherein two statues, one for each hero, were nestled in the dirt beneath the cage-like roots of a large sakura tree.

“May I leave you to your prayer?” spoke the elder.

It was not enough that the humans had the shintai of Amaterasu in their midst yet misdirected their praise toward a creature of their own imagining: that this shintai's home was such a forsaken pit was another level of insult. I found it difficult to contain my anger, but I thought it better to be alone with her, that I may apologize on all of their behalf, and to that end I continued my ruse.

“You may,” spoke I. “I thank you humbly for your hospitality.”

The elder bowed and left me with the stone slumbering body of the White-Wild Majesty.

I sat in seiza before the Great God and bowed deeply. I produced a small bowl and a wooden stand, lit the candle upon the stand and offered the prayer slip in the bowl. Then I prayed. I prayed that the humans would awaken from their ignorance. I prayed for the imps who knew of the gods but ignored their blessings, preferring to live in darkness. But more than anything, I prayed for Amaterasu's good fortune and happiness, and that she would continue to warm the world with her divine light.

Even in her earthly form, Amaterasu was beautiful. The statue depicted her in a fearsome pose, front legs bent, teeth bared as if she stood perpetually ready to attack an unseen foe. I was drawn to embrace the statue, and with her head in my arms I could almost feel her relaxing, calming. I may have wept.

I was indeed a bit embarrassed when I realized I was not alone. Near the torii was a man in a peculiar garb; on a brown kimono he wore an orange cloth and blue sash with shakuhachi flute and a charm hanging from it—but most peculiar was the straw basket he wore on his head, which completely concealed his face from view. He said nothing before I noticed him and continued to say nothing after, so finally I took the initiative to address him myself.

“If my presence disturbs you or anyone from saying due prayers before the slayers of Orochi, I do humbly apologize. Your garb is not like the villagers, and from that I deduce that you too are a pilgrim and wish for a moment's attention to the White-Wild Majesty. In that case I will take leave so as to disturb you no longer.”

“I am a pilgrim,” spoke he, “but not for the Shinto traditions, and I do not require that you take leave. I am a komusō, a priest of Fuke Zen Buddhism, and my garb as well as the basket upon my head are typical attire. We reject individual ego and live medicant lives of constant pilgrimage, playing the honkyoku on our shakuhachi and spreading the teachings of the Buddha. I meant not to disturb you, only that we may share this space for a while.”

“Indeed I notice the shakuhachi you carry with you. I myself am in possession of an okedō, and I would very much like to make meditative music together, in reverence both to the gods and to enlightenment.”

Seeing no reason to object, the komusō sat seizan and slipped the end of his shakuhachi under the basket to his lips. I sat next to him and steadied my okedō with crossed legs. After a few moments of concentration, he began playing a melody which I found quite soothing, and I listened for a moment before I began ten-tenning along with the rhythm on my drum. Our playing began simple, but as we lost ourselves in the music the komusō gave into increasing virtuosity, and I, inspired by his great skill, tapped along with increasing furor and boldness. I know not how long we played in that trance-like state, but Amaterasu's sun was high before we finished, and my companion bid me fond farewell.

“I thank you grandly for our playing. I've not often met one with such express passion and devotion as yourself,” spoke he. “As we are both pilgrims we must go our separate ways. Whereabouts might your next destination be?”

“I have seen much on my travels, but as my home is far away, I may see much more before I return,” spoke I. “However, this village is so pleasant and this monument so beautiful that I may not resist the temptation to stay a little longer before I depart. I intend to offer one more prayer to the White-Wild Majesty before I retire.”

He bid one final farewell, and I was alone once more. I sat before the Great God and prayed until I nearly lost myself. After a time I noticed the sound of many footsteps ascending the hill. The people of the village had become aware of my true nature, and now came bearing farm tools as improvised armaments. They chanted:

“Out, oni! You vile servant of darkness! No doubt you've come to curse the memory of our heroes, and perhaps leave a little of your accursed mark on our village as well! We'll not have it! Return to the underworld and tell your like that we in the land of light will never again suffer under your fierce oppression, nor will we tolerate the presence of you sneaking spies! Out, oni! Out, oni! Out! Out! Out!”

They occupying the only path downward, I had no escape but to use an oni spell to disappear in a wispy puff before their eyes. I reappeared in safety some distance from the village in the Shinshu fields.

Those humans who knew not what the gods had done for them had made themselves the arbitrators regarding who was and was not worthy to pay worship. They had imprisoned Amaterasu in stone and fed her the scraps that fell from the rotten stew of their detestable apathy. I wanted to hurt them. I wanted to bind them in chains and whip them with thorny vines, but only to teach them of the pain and injustice they had inflicted on the giver of life, and to make certain they would never again pay the gods less than they deserve.

I did not do that, of course. Instead I returned to my mountain home, where several of my siblings who had been watching me me had informed the clan of my actions. I was exiled by my old friends and family, and dejected and destitute, I crawled back to the world with nary a place to go.

It was in the Forest of Agate that I lived alone and undisturbed for years since.

---

Once a city had existed on the spot where I then stood, but for unknown reasons its inhabitants had quit the place, and in their absence the forest reconquered its historic range. Trees and other plants grew through cracks in stone walls, animals made dens of the forgotten rooms, and structures lay fully or partially buried.

I walked for quite a while before I came upon something of interest. Dirty and rotten for its years, but still mostly intact was a torii, and I went through it to find the remains of a Shinto shrine. I climbed the stone stairs to the sandō; I stopped at the temizuya, but toads had made homes of the unflowing water and turned it opaque. The stone tōrō were broken and off center, and the wooden structures all showed signs of rot. The shamusho was in shambles; the plaques upon the ema were worn illegible; the komainu were weathered beyond recognizability, and the sessha were little better. I entered the haiden where the public once worshiped; they would have a hard time of it now, as the floor was blanketed in a layer of earth and drizzled with plants and insects. Through the heiden I reached the honden, the sacred chamber where the kami rested, where none but priests were allowed.

The closed doors had done a job of keeping out the elements, but there was still a layer of dust for me to disturb on entry. Some spiders had managed build webs on the crates holding the yorishiro; I opened these, and peeled back layer upon layer of clothe to reveal the objects underneath, beautiful mirrors, staves, and swords.

I decided to make this my home, and simultaneously decided that I should rejuvenate it to a decent standard. It was long, grueling work, but I had an abundance of time and little else to do with it. I broke through the earth until I could see the floors underneath, and I leveled the sandō into the flat dirt path it had probably been in its previous life. I scrubbed every surface with clothe and water from a nearby river. Then I took to ripping out all rotted wood from the structures, and lacking a need for it I dismantled the shamusho to provide wood for the haiden and honden. I righted the tōrō that were intact and removed the broken ones, then set chisel to scavenged stone blocks to build replacements. Finally, reasoning that the kami must have abandoned them, I threw out the sacred objects. In their place I carved a new yorishiro for the Great God herself. I used the visage of the wolf, but carved her in a relaxed sitting position, as if she were shining her light upon me from on high.

My work done, I took to living the life of a Shinto priest. Though I lacked a congregation or the appropriate clothes, I practiced all the rituals and recited the proper prayers daily. I also took care of the statue behind closed doors and prayed to it. I hoped one day Amaterasu would escape her prison in Kamiki and join me in the home I had prepared for her.

She did escape—but not in the way I expected.

A human, for reasons unfathomable to me, pulled the sword Tsukiyomi from the Moon Cave where Orochi slumbered and released him. Subsequently Amaterasu awakened from her own slumber to face this new threat to the world. I heard the news on the tongues of sparrows and deer, and made haste to the village to see for myself. It was once again early Spring. The shintai was gone—the Great God had brought it into motion as her vessel in the natural world. I searched for her; she was not to be found in the village, but in the sprawling fields of Shinshu I was able to spot her from a distance and reach her.

She was even more beautiful than I could imagine. Her fur was white as light and seemed to be glowing, as were the crimson markings on her body. The reflector on her back shone with red prominences, and from as close as I dared to get I could feel the warmth of the sun off her. As a whole, the appearance of the God I adored in motion, running across the earth in magnificent strides, was enough to bring me to tears. I was content to stay out of sight until I saw her moving towards Agate, whereupon I had a plan to have her perform her miracles just for me.

I once again donned human disguise, and walked with the hunched back of one who had lived a long life of toil in the fields. Amaterasu entered the forest along with the morning sun, and I placed myself in her path that she would encounter me by accident. She approached me as she did other humans, but to my surprise it was another voice that addressed me:

“Hey, old man! Do you live here, or did you come to take a walk in the woods? Either way, I don't want to sound threatening, but with all the monsters suddenly running around everywhere this forest is pretty dangerous!”

Sitting in the Great God's fur was what appeared to be a green beetle, but on closer inspection the beetle's shell served as a hat worn by a one-inch boy. I had not expected the Great God to be accompanied by one who seemed to speak on her behalf.

“I should speak of danger!” spoke I. “I would think that one as small as you would have much to fear in this forest, perhaps a passing sparrow or a browsing vole! But you seem to have found one of the stronger inhabitants to be your protector.”

“Don't think I can't beat any monster's butt!” spoke One-Inch. “Ammy ain't anyone's protector—I'm the one doing the protecting!”

Ammy? That the boy spoke in this informal tone in the presence of the Great God was enough to horrify a decent man.

“Regardless,” spoke I, “I've lived in this forest for thirty-odd years, and I've yet to meet misfortune. I run a teahouse where travelers rest and replenish themselves for their journeys. I was now on my way to my tea garden, where the sencha leaves should be just about ready for harvesting. Perhaps you and your pooch would like to accompany me, and I can make you the delicious green tea on our return.”

This tempted One-Inch, and he turned to an internal conversation with his host.

“Some sencha sounds nice, and I would love to get off my feet,” spoke he. “I bet the harvest would go a lot faster if we helped him. What do you think, Ammy? You wanna help harvest some leaves?”

The Great God made no move to answer. She seemed to be watching me closely, and whether she saw through my disguise or recognized me from our prior meeting, I couldn't tell. I did my best to feign that I could not see her markings or her divine instrument.

“I'll take that as a yes,” spoke One-Inch, oblivious. “All right, gramps—we'll help you harvest your tea leaves if you just lead us to 'em!”

I walked through the forest with the Great God and the bouncing boy at my side. After a time we reached the clearing where a break in the canopy allowed sunlight to reach the forest floor. Rows of tea plants reaching up to a meter in height, slotted with protective bamboo screens.

“Only the leaves of the top three inches of the plant can be used for tea,” spoke I. “The rest of the plant is left to produce more next year. Had I a bigger sickle, I could cut these uniform plants in one motion—but such is the fancy of an old man with hours of work before him.”

“Did you hear that, Ammy?” spoke One-Inch. “He said you could cut all these plants with one motion—just aim for the top three inches and take 'em off the whole field!”

And the Great God knew exactly what to do. Bearing the Celestial Brush, she painted a straight, horizontal line through all my tea plants—and the leaves did fall to the ground, perfectly cut!

“Oh my,” spoke I. “I'm not sure how it happened, but leaves have all fallen from the plants at once. All that remains is to collect them in my basket, then we may be on our way.”

“Why is your teahouse so far from your tea field?” spoke One-Inch.

“My teahouse is built in a lovely spot where travelers are likely to stop by, but my tea plants had to be planted in a particular spot where sunlight is sufficient.”

Collect them I did, and I led us all back the way we came, to where I promised a teahouse stood. We reached the rustic wooden hut, nestled between the trees and a small brook.

We entered, and I invited the pair to sit down while I slipped behind the counter to deposit the leaves.

“The first thing I have to do is steam them. I use water from the brook outside—it's getting quite harder to carry it in my old age, but such is life I suppose.” I traded the leaf basket for a water jug and started outside.

“Ammy, don't you have respect for your elders?” spoke One-Inch. “No one as old as gramps here should be made to carry a water jug. Don't you know how to move water?”

And the Great God did—she painted a line connecting the brook outside to where I stood with my water jug, filling it up before I even set foot out the door.

“My jug's filled right up!”  spoke I. “I'm at a loss as to how to explain it, but I'm glad to have been saved the trip to the brook and back.”

I loaded the leaves and the water into the steamer, closed it, and lit the fire. A minute is all it takes to soften the leaves and halt oxidation, as well as give them their emerald color. Following that I removed the leaves and laid them out on the counter.

“The process is going so much more quickly than usual! But next comes the rather laborious process of rolling the leaves one-by-one into curls.”

“We could be here forever if we wait for gramps to roll all those leaves by himself,” spoke One-Inch. “Ammy, don't you know a quick way to shape things into a swirl?”

The Great God painted a swirl, whereupon a rapid gust of wind picked the leaves off the counter and forced every one into a curl by way of its tight path. The leaves then flew into the opposite wall and fell.

“The gods must be watching, for this is the fastest bunch of tea leaves I've ever prepared,” spoke I. “Now, all that's left is to dry them. Normally one does this in an oven, but I must tell you a secret in that sun-dried tea leaves produce exceptionally-flavored tea. It only works at times when the sun is most bright, and I'm afraid today is just a bit too overcast.”

Before a large east-facing window was a stone surface upon which the sunlight would shine as the sun climbed in the morning sky. As I started to prepare the oven, I innocently, mindlessly left the leaves on the stone surface.

“Have you ever tried sun-dried tea?” spoke One-Inch. “I don't know if it tastes any different, but I know you're just the one to find out!”

With a final swish of the brush, the Great god painted a circle in the sky and bestowed upon me her greatest miracle. The sun came out in just the right spot outside the window, and I was bathed in its sacred light. I couldn't help but take a moment to close my eyes and enjoy its pleasant sensations.

“I'm truly blessed,” spoke I. “The tea leaves have dried in an instant, and they look to be the best I've ever produced. I can't wait to serve these to you as my first customers today.”

I packed the tea leaves in their containers and put a kettle on the hob to boil. As we waited for that, I prepared sushi and sashimi, and impressed One-Inch with my deft movements of the cutting blade. I served the rolls, and when the water was ready I infused the leaves and served the cups of tea. The wolf and the boy both started, as was customary, by inhaling the fragrant steam through their noses. As it cooled, they began to drink—the one-inch boy carried a smaller cup which he used to scoop the tea from the cup which was larger than himself, and the wolf tried with some clumsiness to lap with her tongue without spilling. But drink it they did, and they were much satisfied.

“You're right, gramps. Those sun-dried leaves really do make some great tea,” spoke One-Inch.

“I'm glad you enjoy.”

“What do you think, Ammy? Isn't this some of the best tea you ever had?”

But the Great God was once again watching me, trying more desperately than before to place me. She wavered as a great sleepiness overtook her, and her eyelids and jaw began to droop.

“Ammy, are you okay?” said One-Inch, but the same sensations were beginning to affect him as well, and he stumbled upon the counter. He attempted to rise, but only fell again against the ceramic of the large tea cup.

“Old man … what did you …”

Among things known to oni is a recipe for a potent anesthesia which, when the reactions are complete, takes the form of an odorless water-soluble powder. Ingestion of this powder leads to paralysis and total unconsciousness within minutes, and victims have been known to remain for hours after waking in a dazed state without complete control of their faculties or bodies.

Into both cups of tea I had slipped just a pinch of this powder, and so it was no surprise when both One-Inch and the Great God fell unconscious upon my counter.

I was quite pleased with my work.

---

I brought Amaterasu to the honden which was rightfully hers and laid her before the yorishiro. I removed the reflector from her back and hung it over the statue, then sat seiza, lit a candle and left a prayer slip in a bowl.

I waited for the Great God to begin stirring. After a short time she did. I bowed deeply.

“Ōhirume-no-muchi-no-kami—the Heavenly Shining Great God, Amaterasu Ōkami, I apologize greatly for having abused your natural body in this way. It was only so that I could bring you to witness the shrine which I have built and maintained far from human eyes, for the honor of you alone. I have seen how the humans in their faithlessness neglect the gods. They remain unaware of your presence and fail to show the proper respect—how you must feel forgotten, cast aside! I offer you a home once again worthy of your divinity, and I who alone recognize you shall be your disciple, and give you proper worship and bath in your light forever, if only you would will it.”

Amaterasu wasn't looking at me. She was still trying to come to her senses through the continued effects of the drug, and she propped herself on her front legs in attempt to stand. I appeared to her now in my natural form, for I wished her to see me and still see the virtue in my heart.

Whether it was fear or rejection I know not. She waved the Celestial Brush in attempt to draw a slash through my neck, but in her weakened state she succeeded only in throwing ink into my eyes, and with this diversion she bolted past me.

She did not make it through the heiden before I shook the ink from my eyes, gave chase and tackled her to the floor. It was not my intention to antagonize her, but I couldn't let the one I had spent my life preparing to meet leave in such a state. She needed only a bit of time to calm herself, then she would see the truth.

I brought her back to the honden and laid her again before the statue. She struggled against my grasp. She acted pathetically canine—waving her claws about, barking with all the force she could muster, whimpering. I stroked her head in attempt to reassure her. When she grew tired of gnashing I dared to move closer and wrapped my arms around her neck in embrace. Her body was warm; her fur felt heavenly against my skin.

It was at this point in time that I became intensely curious as to the anatomy of the Great God's natural body, and whether it was fully representative of an organic specimen. Motivated by this I exploratorily ran my fingers down her soft belly. I encountered a set of tender teats (for nursing what pups?) and continued further to reach her canid vagina.

She struggled with renewed vigor as my fingers came in contact, but she remained unable to remove me. Ever so gently I began stroking her, and I observed the involuntary twitches and spasms of her muscles. I increased the speed and depth of my strokes, slowly, carefully, and I even began to feel moisture.

I won't attempt to excuse my actions, only that for once, it seemed an oni was peering into my heart, urging me to act on my deepest desires. Inevitably as I stroked her sensitive organs I found my own being stimulated as well. I was overcome with vexing temptation and a magnetic pull toward her, and I invited myself to that carnal pleasure which is the birthright of all creatures of the Earth.

I engaged her very slowly, as if assuring myself of her consent. As I entered her and felt the pleasure of our union, the tightness and moistness of her vaginal walls, her internal body heat, the soft fur of her haunches against my thighs—as it engulfed me, overtook my senses—my rational mind left me, and with it all concerns for such matters. I pressed my full length inside of her, went faster and harder, imperceptive to how she looked away from me, or how her struggling surrendered to soft whining.

My curiosity returned and I began to wonder whether the Great God's anatomy accounted for internal features as well. It seemed certain to me that, since she possessed the external means for mating and nursing, as well as internal means for such functions as eating and laying waste, she would possess the means for reproduction. Was it possible for me to give her a child? Born from a union of oni and kami, such a child could serve as a living bridge between our two worlds.

Such happenings were the decisions of Fate, however. All there was for me to do was sow the seeds of the future deep in the Great God's body.

Elsewhere, in a spot nestled between the trees and a small brook, a pair of sparrows, one with a red crest and the other with blue wings, browsed in the grass which was growing between burnt wooden planks. The blue-winged one perceived with some interest a beetle sitting still, but as she approached, it stirred and revealed itself to be a one-inch human being.

“Oh my,” she cried to the other. “It's the strangest thing—a tiny human in the grass here!”

“Nonsense,” spoke the red-crested one. “If there had been a child in the grass we'd have seen it from far away.”

“I mean exceptionally tiny. No more than an inch in height, I'd say.”

“That's imposs—all right, let me see.”

The red-crested one came closer. By now, One-Inch was finding his way onto his feet, but as he became aware of the two insectivores paying him close attention, he stumbled back again and drew his sewing needle of a sword.

“Stay back. I'm no beetle, and if you eat me I'll cut you from the inside.”

“Goodness,” spoke the blue-winged one to the other. “Would you want to eat a one-inch human? I should think it would be most unappetizing.”

“How is it that you came to be lying in the grass here?” spoke the red-crested one.

One-Inch tried desperately to organize his memories. The brook looked familiar, as did the particular spot before the trees, but he remembered a teahouse and plainly there was none.

“I … There was teahouse here.”

“A teahouse?” spoke the blue-winged one. “Perhaps the structure that stood here once was a teahouse, but I don't expect any creature today would know—whatever it was burned down when my grandfather was in his egg.”

“I'm certain that I was in a teahouse this morning in this very spot,” spoke One-Inch. “There was an old man, he served us tea, and then … Ammy!”

“The little one's out of his mind,” spoke the red-crested one. “Might have stumbled here after a bit of sake—wouldn't be the first.”

“Listen to me you avian addle-heads,” spoke One-Inch. “Ammy's been wolfnapped! That old man slipped us something in that tea and nabbed her!”

“How could an old man have served you tea if there's no teahouse?” spoke the red-crested one.

“He may have been tricked by some oni or kami,” spoke the blue-winged one. “My mother told me stories about it—a spirit can engulf an unwary traveler in an illusion, make itself look human and make it look as if a long-destroyed building still stands.”

“We're gonna be in really bad shape if an oni got Ammy,” spoke One-Inch. “You two have to tell me if you've seen her. She's a pure-white wolf. Gotta be hard to miss in a place like this.”

The two sparrows looked at each other. When in became apparent there would be no answer One-Inch grumbled and began to take leave.

“Fine. Guess I'll find her the old-fashioned way.”

“Wait!” spoke the blue-winged one. “You say an old man served you tea in this teahouse? And that's why you were sleeping in the grass?”

One-Inch answered in the affirmative.

“Oni in this region have been known to use sleeping potions on humans. There's a shrine in this forest left over from the previous civilization, and every once in a while an oni or some such moves in. When they do, it's never long before they start bewitching travelers, eating them or stealing their supplies. It's the toads, you see—the toads that live at that shrine can be used in some arcane brewing recipe. There's an oni living there now who's been there a few years. He's put in quite the effort to make the place comfortable.”

“So this oni is probably the one who's got Ammy,” spoke One-Inch.

“I'd say it's the best chance.”

“Great … then can you fly me there?”

“Are you kidding!” spoke the red-crested one. “Those toads are two-foot across. They'll swallow a sparrow in one bite, and that's if the oni doesn't get us.”

“Fat lot of use you are!” spoke One-Inch. “Forget it, then—just point me in the right direction and I'll get there myself.”

The blue-winged one pointed with her beak in a northerly direction. “Should find it as long as you keep the sun at your left side.”

One-Inch started off without another word.

“I do apologize, but we must be getting back to our nests before dark,” spoke the blue-winged one. “Best of luck—really!” And they were off.

“Dumb cowards …” One-Inch muttered to himself.

He hiked through the forest as instructed, and was able to find additional clues to keep on the track—footprints here, a spot of white fur there. It took a long while for the little one to walk the not-insignificant distance between the brook and the shrine, but walk it he did, and at long last he spotted the torii.

He climbed the stairs with some difficulty, and spotted the two-foot toads bathing in the temizuya. He decided to refrain from calling out, for fear of attracting their attention or that of the oni and any possible brethren. Instead he made his way into the haiden, saw it empty and continued through the heiden into the honden.

I had allowed myself that blissful release before I became aware of One-Inch standing in the middle of the passage. To any creature with eyes it was plain to see what I had done. He was stricken dumb, and after a moment his only move was to draw his sewing-needle sword and, with great agility and in blind rage, he leapt toward me.

I could have killed little One-Inch. I could have swatted him, stomped him underfoot or swallowed him whole, and enjoyed the Heavenly Shining Great God for the rest of my life. But I did not. For reasons I could not begin to articulate I was struck with a profound sense of shame, and I felt my most prudent course of action was to leave that place as quickly as possible. In an instant before One-Inch reached me I vanished into smoke. He slashed through the spot where I had been and fell to the floor, and that was it. He was alone with his companion, the both of them free to continue their adventures.

I never again showed myself to Amaterasu, but I occasionally watched her on her journey. She remained beautiful, her strides magnificent, her battles fierce. And when she settled down for the night only to stay awake watching the horizon, I wondered whether it was with thoughts of me that she was troubled.