Shinrabansho: Myriad Souls

Each time Noh-Baku moved, the lake reacted first. Ripples flattened beneath him, then drew inward toward his feet. Branches along the shore bent toward him. Black spiritual residue streamed from his body in thick bands. Wherever it passed, spray fell flat, and stones along the bank ground together until pale dust blew back across the shore.

Kagami-no-Kami hovered opposite him, posture steady. Her masks did not whirl or flare. They spread around her one by one, each stopping at a fixed height and angle.

Wood. Lacquer. Porcelain. Each surface held a different expression.

Pity, contempt, serene indifference. Each reflected the lake, trees, and broken shoreline from a different angle.

Baku’s noh face stretched and narrowed as power moved beneath it. Black cracks spread across the smooth plate. Darkness pulsed under the surface with each breath he took. When he laughed, the sound came out hollow and uneven. One echo struck the water below. Another rolled through the trees and bamboo. The last one died abruptly.

“You will not take this power from me,” he rumbled.

Below him, the lake shuddered. The water buckled into a wide ring, spreading away from the point beneath his body.

Kagami-no-Kami did not answer.

Spray bent toward Baku first. Loose bark lifted from the shore. Stones scraped across the bank toward him. Kagami-no-Kami watched each reaction and measured the distance between them.

Then she moved, not to strike. One of her mirror masks slid forward, its reflective surface widening as it advanced. It caught Baku’s silhouette and enlarged it. His trunk looked longer. His shoulders looked broader. Darkness thickened around him.

Noh-Baku moved quickly.

His trunk snapped outward in a brutal sweep. The attack whipped through the air hard enough to cut across the lake below. Water sheared apart beneath the shock, then crashed back together after the strike passed.

Kagami-no-Kami shifted as his attack reached her.

She did not evade his trunk cleanly. She let the edge of the blow clip her guard. The impact tore through her nearest reflections and splintered porcelain and glass into sharp fragments. The strike shoved her backward, her arms lifting to protect her face. Several masks spun out of position.

She recovered before Baku could retract his trunk.

Her right hand launched forward. A lacquered mask struck the trunk head-on. The collision rang like a pickaxe hitting rock. His trunk recoiled a fraction too late, and the impact traveled through his face, down his neck, and into his shoulders and chest.

Kagami-no-Kami followed, driving in quickly, one mask beneath her feet, another flashing beside her hand. As she closed the distance between them, her palm struck the side of his face.

The blow snapped his head to the side.

Baku snarled and swung his arm. She ducked under it, but his elbow clipped her shoulder and jolted her sideways. He stepped in with the full mass of his altered body and drove his fist into her guard.

The hit crushed her forearms against her chest.

Her breath left her in a burst. A mask slid in from below and struck the inside of his elbow, knocking his follow-up just wide enough to miss her head. His knuckles tore through the air beside her cheek.

She answered with two short strikes. Ribs and then his throat.

The first hit landed. The second struck the lower edge of his contorted face and snapped his head back, darkness spilling from the cracks. Baku’s hand shot out and seized her wrist.

His grip closed hard enough to grind the bones together.

Kagami-no-Kami’s fingers clenched. She rotated with the grip, turned her elbow inward, and stepped across his leading foot as a mirror mask slammed into the back of his knee.

His leg buckled.

She drove her knee toward his abdomen, but Baku twisted aside with a roar, caught her before the strike landed cleanly, and hurled her downward.

Kagami-no-Kami struck the lake hard enough to blast water into the air. The surface cratered around her. Reeds along the nearest shore flattened and snapped from the impact wave. Trees shuddered as spray and wind struck their branches. For a moment, she vanished beneath the water.

Baku did not wait for her to rise. He inhaled.

The ancient reflex of the dream-eater took over. His chest tightened. The lake bulged upward beneath him. Water rose in twisting columns and rushed toward his mouth. Branches along the far bank bowed toward him over the water. Smaller limbs snapped loose and whirled after them.

Kagami-no-Kami rose with the water.

She did not fight the intake. She let it take her. Her masks rotated inward as spray, snapped branches, old deadwood, and broken stones hurtled toward Baku with her.

Baku drew harder.

This was not breathing like a human would. It was weaponized hunger. His chest pulled tighter in stages. Water burst into mist around Kagami-no-Kami’s body. Loose stones ripped from the nearest shore and spun toward Baku over the lake. The surface below him rose into a convex bowl.

Her masks tightened around her body. The nearest stones struck first, breaking against porcelain instead of her ribs. Deadwood splintered across a lacquered face. Each impact turned the masks until their reflective surfaces faced Baku through the rushing debris.

Baku snapped his trunk forward at that moment.

It struck her across the body before she reached him.

The hit cracked two masks and folded her sideways. She caught the trunk with both hands before it could withdraw, her fingers digging into its rough, cracked surface. Darkness pulsed beneath her grip. A porcelain mask drove down on it from above. A wooden mask struck from below. The trunk buckled between them for one breath.

Baku roared and whipped his trunk hard enough to slam her into the water again.

This time she skipped across the surface, hit once, bounced through spray, then caught herself with a mask that formed beneath her. She launched from it at once.

Baku’s arm came down to crush her as she charged at him.

She angled away, but his fingers raked across her upper arm. Blood welled where his nails scored her flesh. She did not look at it or pause. A mirror mask struck the inside of his elbow and knocked his arm wide. Then her palm hit his chest as another mask rammed into his shoulder from the opposite side.

The two impacts turned Baku’s upper body just enough that his trunk pointed past her instead of straight at her.

Kagami-no-Kami stopped fighting the intake.

It carried her along the side of his open trunk instead of straight down the center. Baku widened the opening to catch her and swallowed her along the course she had chosen.

The instant she crossed fully into his throat, her body broke apart into reflections. Her masks shattered around her, but the fragments did not scatter. Each piece caught part of her face, her hands, or her eyes as they streamed deeper with her.

Shadow burst from Noh-Baku’s body. The lake below detonated into froth. Water blasted outward in a ring. Along the shore, soil broke, roots tore free, and stones ground into dust under the shock.

For a fraction of a second, it looked like victory.

Then the fragments jammed.

The mirrored pieces inside his throat did not dissolve. Porcelain, lacquer, and glass wedged together, locking in place before his body could drag them deeper. The next surge struck the packed mass and rebounded through his trunk.

Baku convulsed.

His noh face warped as more cracks ran across it. He gagged, his trunk snapping downward before he forced it open again. Darkness burst from his mouth in ragged sheets, but the intake did not stop. It dragged harder at the jam, grinding the fragments deeper while his throat tightened around them.

Kagami-no-Kami pushed from behind the lodged pieces.

Porcelain cracked. Lacquer splintered. Glass cut into the bloodied walls instead of passing through. The jam widened for one breath, and her remaining masks drove into the gap before Baku’s throat could crush shut around her again.

A mirrored shard struck the back of his throat from inside.

Baku gagged again. His head snapped forward. The intake faltered. Kagami-no-Kami shoved both hands through the packed fragments, and her remaining masks drove ahead of her, splitting the gap wider.

The pull surged again.

This time, she did not brace against it. She drove her fingers into the packed fragments and let Baku drag her with them. The broken mirrors scraped along the torn walls of his throat, cutting the passage wider each time his body tried to close around her.

His body wrenched sideways as the rebound tore through him. Darkness burst from his chest and mouth, spilling over the lake.

Baku tried to swallow.

The motion dragged the fragments past the torn meat of his throat, but they did not continue down the path his body wanted them to take.

Past the back of his throat, the stolen noh face fed into the black stream he used to enter the dream. It ran from the mask, through his chest, and out of him into the world he controlled.

Kagami-no-Kami followed it.

His throat tightened again. Porcelain became grit. Mirror fragments became shining dust. Lacquer splintered into black flakes. Every piece slipped into the same stream as his stolen power.

The particles passed behind the noh face, rode the stream through his chest, and vanished from the lake one by one.

The school festival opened around her.

Air shimmered over the grounds as the last fragments crossed the threshold. Fireworks stalled mid-bloom, bursts of red and gold hanging frozen above the school. Paper lanterns stopped swaying. Steam from the food stalls held in place above the grills. A falling candy wrapper froze halfway to the ground.

Then Kagami-no-Kami reformed high above the festival.

Her hands came together first. Then her face. Then the long spread of her sleeves. Around her, dust, grit, flakes, and mirrored splinters joined back into masks. Hairline seams sealed across porcelain. Lacquer smoothed over, leaving faint dark cracks under the shine. Glass faces caught the firework light again as each restored mask took its place around her.

The stalled fireworks resumed, violent bursts of red and gold screaming upward. Lantern flames bent toward her. Steam above the food stalls twisted into thin white threads before breaking apart. Below, the figments stumbled in place for one step, unable to see her, but caught by the same tremor running through the festival grounds.

Kagami-no-Kami gazed down from above.

“Impressive.”

I had been crying so quietly that I hadn’t realized how still my face had become.

My fingers were locked around Aoi-chan’s hand, and I could feel the heat of her palm, the little squeezes she gave me like she was reminding me that she was right there. My tears didn’t come with sobs anymore. They just kept slipping freely down warm trails that the night air cooled too quickly.

We’d settled down with everyone to watch the fireworks, and I’d tried to sit up like I wasn’t falling apart over a conversation I’d never wanted to have. That lasted maybe two bursts before I gave up.

I leaned, more like sliding and ended up with my head in Aoi-chan’s lap.

Aoi’s fingers threaded through my hair. She soothed me carefully, her fingers gentle at my temple, smoothing stray strands away from my eyes so I could see the sky better with her. Her yukata’s sleeve brushed my cheek, the cool silk brushing against my warm skin, and that touch made my throat tighten again.

“Sumire-chan,” she whispered, soft enough that it felt meant only for me. “This lap pillow is yours, any time you need it.”

I blushed nodding, enjoying the feel of her soft thighs under my right ear and cheek.

“I’m okay, really,” I lied, and I knew she heard it for what it was.

Aoi smiled anyway. She didn’t smile like she was amused. She smiled like she was fond, like she was memorizing me. That was worse than if she’d decided to tease me for my clinginess.

Above us, the fireworks bloomed in fat, bright chrysanthemums. A blue burst spread into silver sparks that fell in slow, lazy arcs. Every time I blinked, the light caught in the water on my lashes.

Aoi’s own tears started to fall without warning, and I realized it only because a few warm droplets landed on my cheek and upper lip, startling me into a little breathy laugh that broke into a shaky sound.

“Hey,” I whispered, trying to look up at her.

Aoi wiped at her face with her sleeve and failed to stop the next tear from falling. “Shut up,” she whispered back, like she was scolding me for noticing that she was breaking too.

Riko and Yuna were close enough that I could hear Riko’s sniff that she tried to turn into a cough. Yuna bumped her with an elbow and murmured something that made Riko hiss back under her breath.

Kurosawa-sensei stood a little behind us, her hands folded inside her sleeves, watching us with an expression I couldn’t quite read. It wasn’t the look she usually wore. I wasn’t sure about what she was thinking, but it gave me the impression that for some reason she was trying to store this night away in memory too.

Pon-chan sat beside us in the grass, balanced on his haunches as he watched the fireworks. He was quieter than usual, his body relaxed and unguarded, the bursts of light reflecting faintly in his eyes as he stayed still and calm at our side.

The fireworks grew louder, the crowd’s anticipation rising as what felt like the finale approached. People shifted to make room for others, laughter and chatter cutting in and out between bursts.

Someone behind us said, “It’s coming!” like they were sharing a great secret that no one but them understood.

Then the sky changed.

The light didn’t simply dim. It tightened, like the night had narrowed its eyes. The music from a nearby stall seemed to thin out, muffled for half a second. A ripple moved through the crowd, the kind of rippling that wasn’t created through excitement. Rather, people were moving out of instinct.

Aoi-chan stiffened beneath me. Her fingers paused in my hair.

I sat up, wiping at my face in confusion, and followed her gaze.

Everyone was gazing upward.

A shape floated above the fireworks, someone was standing in the sky as if gravity was just an unproven theory. Maybe it still was, but it was like gravity didn’t touch that figure. The fireworks couldn’t quite illuminate it. A series of shadows orbited it drifting like moons in different phases, and even from the ground I felt the weight of its attention on me.

It came into sight as it descended.

The figure was strange. She had nine tails fanned behind her, a mask resting over half of her face, long white hair drifting lazily as if the air itself were holding her up. Her eyes were fox-like and piercing, fixed on the ground below with calm certainty.

She looked almost like a kami that had descended from the moon.

People screamed. Others gasped. Phones rose on reflex, flashes popping in uneven bursts. Some students laughed nervously, forcing the sound out as if trying to convince themselves this was only an elaborate performance.

But I knew that that wasn’t the case.

That little voice in me shrieked in recognition of her.

She touched down near us with a grace that made the grass barely move.

Riko’s mouth opened and stayed that way. Yuna’s eyes widened, then narrowed, as if she was trying to decide how to act. Kurosawa-sensei took a slow breath and went very still.

Aoi rose immediately, wiping her face fiercely with her sleeve as if tears were something that she refused to show in front of this being.

I stood too, my hands hovering uncertainly for a moment before I gathered myself and followed. Pon-chan scurried up my yukata and planted himself on my shoulder, puffed up so much he seemed twice his normal size.

“Stand before me,” she said, even though we already had, her voice carrying without effort, her tone calm and absolute. “We do not have much time. Are you ready for this dream to end?”

Aoi did not hesitate, “I’m ready.”

My stomach dropped.

The words didn’t make sense, and yet they struck somewhere deep, as if that little part of me that was locked away understood what was going on.

Dream. Ending… Wake up.

Her gaze flicked outward, taking in the festival around us, the booths, the lanterns, the faces of all the strangers who had gone suddenly quiet.

“I see that you recognize me, but I do not know you,” she said to Aoi. Then her attention sharpened, unsparing. “And yet… are you not a figment, like the rest of these others?”

“No,” Aoi said firmly. “I’m ready to wake up, even though it means my death.”

She stopped herself. Her jaw tightened.

“Then speak my name as proof,” she said.

“Kagami-no-Kami of the Yōkai Council,” Aoi said without hesitation. “Why are you here?”

“You are in danger. The dream is compromised.” Kagami-no-Kami studied her more closely. “You do know me. Let’s see who you are.”

She lifted one hand.

A mirror formed in the air, smooth and merciless, its surface so pristine it looked as though it had never reflected anything flawed.

It turned toward Aoi.

For a moment, it showed her exactly as she was: her light yukata with blue flower patterns, purple obi, her steel blue eyes still damp and red, her mouth set with stubborn resolve.

Then the reflection shifted.

Aoi’s outline blurred, revealing something beneath her skin: a contained flame threaded with darkness, energy drawn tight and controlled.

“What’s that thing doing to her?” I asked, stepping between Aoi and the mirror.

Kagami-no-Kami inclined her head slightly, ignoring me. “Ah. You are the complexity within Sumire. Not a yōkai … not quite.”

“I once was,” Aoi said.

My throat tightened so hard it hurt.

A yōkai ?! What?!

“I see,” Kagami-no-Kami murmured. “You were the source of the Noh-Face power within her.”

“Yes,” Aoi replied, her voice steady. “It originated from me.”

“And now you haunt her body.”

Aoi’s mouth softened for a brief moment. “That’s a nasty way of putting it. But I chose this, and Sumire accepted me.”

The words sent a chill through me.

I looked at Aoi-chan like I’d never seen her before. I’d seen it before in smaller ways, the way her eyes sometimes went distant, the way her expression would lock down too tightly, the way her anger carried a depth that didn’t feel right. I’d felt it in her kisses too, a restraint in them, the sense that she was always holding something back that she refused to share.

I remembered the night we shared our bodies, and how she held back, choosing silence over telling me about her past.

Kagami-no-Kami’s masks shifted behind her, their orbit tightening.

“It is clear that you fused your yōkai souls,” she said. “That is forbidden.”

“That’s nothing I would have known,” Aoi replied. “Noh-Face are insane creatures. Even if I knew, I’d still have done the same.”

Kagami-no-Kami paused, considering. “You could potentially be unfused. But that would mean returning to a life as Noh-Face… except for one detail.”

The air rippled overhead, and the crowd finally broke into general panic.

A massive figure appeared in the sky like before. Its silhouette was swollen and corrupted, shadows pouring off it like dry ice tainted by the blackest ink, a smoke that refused to rise. His presence made the lanterns flicker as if they were afraid of him and something like inverted lightning wreathed around him as though the world was reacting to him. 

“Baku now has your yōkai power,” Kagami-no-Kami finished.

Aoi looked up without flinching. “I would choose to remain as I am,” she said quietly. “Because this way I keep myself. Even if I must sleep inside her… watching her live.”

Her voice softened on the last part, and she glanced at me.

“Watching her love.”

”Yes. I’m prepared.” Aoi said, her voice firm.

My chest clenched so hard I nearly folded into myself.

Kagami-no-Kami inclined her head. “Very well.”

Then she turned, and her voice carried to all of us as if she’d decided the night had become an informal courtroom.

“Everyone. Look closely and carefully at yourselves.”

Mirrors rose from the ground in front of each of us like pale glass flowers, their surfaces catching moonlight and lantern glow, turning it into something far colder.

People nearby screamed and backed away. A few braver ones stayed, frozen, holding up their phones with shaking hands. Others ran, their footsteps pounding across the grass and pavement, scattering festival food on the ground and dropping their prizes in panic.

I couldn’t move.

My mirror rippled, and my reflection warped.

For a heartbeat I saw myself as I was, wearing my yukata, my red tear-streaked face, my long brown hair slightly mussed from laying it in Aoi’s lap.

Then the image slid aside like a curtain.

The angry, hollow-eyed man stared back at me from inside.

He had short black hair. Empty, rejecting eyes. A face that looked like it had been denied something vital for so long it had learned to sneer at anything and everything.

My stomach lurched. A shiver ran through me so sharply I hugged myself without thinking.

Riko’s mirror snapped to something else entirely, an angry little girl smirking with a strange confidence for her size, too small for her own immense arrogance. Riko flinched, then scowled as if she was offended by what she saw.

“What the hell,” she muttered, her voice tight.

Yuna leaned toward her own mirror and smiled. The reflection that met her was a girl with hair close to Yuna’s shade but not quite, a soft charming grin, and fangs that looked almost playful rather than threatening. Yuna touched the glass lightly, amused, as if she’d met a distant little cousin at a reunion.

Pon-chan shifted on my shoulder, chirring sharply.

Kagami-no-Kami reached up and stroked Pon-chan’s head with two fingers. For a moment, her expression softened, almost seeming fond.

“This little one requires no mirror,” she said. “He already knows himself.”

Pon-chan puffed, then settled, still tense, but no longer frantic.

“Be true and strong,” Kagami-no-Kami continued, her voice quieter. “You do not need to accept yourself. You need only accept the world around you for what it is.”

Then her gaze turned to Kurosawa-sensei.

A mirror formed for her as well.

Kurosawa-sensei’s reflection rippled, and the human shape in it peeled away.

A blonde woman with wise, blue gentle eyes stared back, her nine tails unfurling like a halo behind her, her fur luminous with gold.

Kurosawa-sensei smiled softly, as if she’d been expecting this moment.

“That’s right,” she murmured. “Perhaps it is time. What a shame.”

Light gathered around her, warm and unmistakably ancient. The teacher’s yukata fluttered, then parted like silk being loosened. In her place stood that same woman—radiant, foxfire threaded through her presence, her nine tails drifting behind her like banners, very much like Kagami-no-Kami.

Kagami-no-Kami’s masks shifted, acknowledging her. “It is good to see you in good form again, Natalia.”

Natalia’s eyes flicked toward the sky, toward the massive Noh-Baku face pressing down on the festival like a living stormcloud with teeth.

“I will buy you some time,” Kagami-no-Kami said, her voice sharpening again. “But in the end, it will be up to that girl to make a crucial choice.”

Her gaze landed on me.

My throat closed.

I kept my arms wrapped tightly across my chest, not out of modesty or shame, but out of panic. It was instinctive, like I was holding myself together with the gesture, like if I let go the world might break apart further than it already had.

I didn’t want everything to disappear, clinging to the version of me standing here now. My family. My friends. Everything that made life feel real and worth holding onto. But more than any of that, I was terrified of losing Aoi-chan.

I bit my lip, turning away from what stared back at me from the mirror.

Baku roared overhead, his voice thick with insanity. “How dare you sully my beautiful dream! These girls deserve happiness! Ever after!”

People screamed again. The last clusters of festival-goers scattered, some tripping over one another. A handful stayed at a safer distance, too stunned to move, their phones raised with trembling hands, their flashes going off.

Kagami-no-Kami’s voice carried upward, calm and cutting. “Killing humans is not a crime unknown to yōkai. Many have stained themselves with such acts. But you, Baku…” Her masks tilted. “You are too gentle for such burdens.”

Baku’s darkness convulsed as if the statement had slapped him.

I shook my head, my tears blurring my reflection, blurring everything. Somehow I understood something I didn’t want to face. I knew that if I accepted what Kagami-no-Kami was offering, if I agreed to look at myself and accept what I saw, it would end the whole world… then Aoi-chan would be torn away from me in a way nothing could change.

Aoi stepped in close, taking my hands. Her fingers were warm, genuine, and loving.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I love you, Susu.”

The words hit like a blade and a balm at the same time.

“As beautiful as this world is,” she continued, her voice trembling only slightly, “it isn’t reality. I would not have you waste away in a bed just to grow old with me in a dream.”

My eyes flooded again.

“If that’s your choice,” she whispered, “I will accept it. But you will regret making that choice. The others need you far more than I do.”

Riko and Yuna stared, transfixed, as if their bodies understood they were being pulled away from something they hadn’t even known they were losing. Riko’s fists were clenched at her sides. Yuna’s face was strangely calm, her eyes bright and unblinking.

Natalia-sama stepped closer and rested her hands on our shoulders, one on Aoi’s, one on mine. Her touch was steadying. Comforting. Terrifying in how final it felt.

“I will help Kagami fight,” Natalia said quietly. “When we fail, be ready to take a stand. His power is great. It will come to you two… no, you three…”

Her gaze shifted from Aoi to me, as if she could see the threads already binding us together.

“It was an honor to meet you,” Natalia said sincerely, turning to Aoi and taking her hands, gently squeezing them. “Sadly, there’s no time to linger.”

Aoi nodded once. “Please take good care of Sumire.”

“I will.” Natalia inclined her head, her smile gentle and sad.

Then her yukata changed.

The fabric deepened into gold, fox motifs blooming across it as if the dream itself were recognizing her old authority. Pale foxfire gathered at her feet, curling upward in quiet, deliberate flames.

“This is not my power anymore,” she said, faint amusement threading through her voice despite the night’s tension. “I relinquished it many years ago. But this is a dream world, and its laws are looser.” She looked ahead, her eyes steady. “Tonight, I will borrow a memory of what I once was.”

She rose.

Not with any apparent strain. She glided into the air with the ease of a goddess deciding to take action.

She streaked upward toward the sky where Baku’s shadows boiled, chasing Kagami-no-Kami like a comet of gold.

Aoi turned back to me, her eyes shining, and before I could speak she kissed me.

It wasn’t a gentle peck, nor was it the careful affection displayed when we were trying to be cute in public. It was a kiss that felt like she was pouring her entire self into me, heat, grief, devotion and terror. Everything she had been holding behind her teasing.

My hands clutched at her body, pulling it against me. Our tears mixed. The kiss tasted like salt and fireworks smoke.

Something inside me snapped open.

Memories surged, too fast, too bright and far too messy. Names and faces that didn’t belong to this world. A life that wasn’t mine colliding with my own like two waves meeting head-on.

When Aoi pulled back, her shoulders shaking, I stared at her through a blur of tears and smiled so hard it hurt.

“Reiko-chan,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I missed you.”

Aoi’s eyes widened, and then she collapsed into a sob that sounded like she’d been holding it back for years.

She pressed her forehead to mine, shaking. “Don’t say it like that,” she whispered, even as her hands clutched at me like she was afraid I’d disappear mid-sentence, when it was she who might.

I touched her cheek, my thumb brushing her tear tracks tenderly. Then I leaned forward and kissed her again, desperate and tender, as if I could convince the world to pause with nothing but my mouth.

Above us, the battle resumed in the sky, mirror-light and sunlight against corrupted shadow, foxfire streaking between them like a third dark star. The fireworks continued anyway, exploding in bright, ignorant beauty beneath gods and monsters.

And I stood there trembling, holding my wife, knowing that the dream was ending because I was being asked to choose.