Famine 114: True Nature

In the small house of the Forest Hot Spring Festival Hall, Kazuko stared at the swaying orange flower.
The little shrine maiden sat at her feet, the puppet mimicking her exactly, tilting its head slightly.

Si Zhiyan sat across from her, waiting quietly.

After a long while, Kazuko raised her flowing sleeve, gently covering her lips.

[That’s right, it is.]
[Without a doubt, this is a terrain lure.]

She lifted her face, hollow eye sockets fixing on Si Zhiyan.

[Mister, what is the true nature of terrain lures?]

[How did you find—or rather, create—it?]

Good, that was right. Si Zhiyan let out a quiet breath, smiling softly.

“As you once discussed, there are rules to the formation of terrain lures.”

“They appear in relatively stable, populous locations, holding powerful magic. Both humans and anomalies seem instinctively attracted to them, unable to resist their pull.”

“According to this logic, terrain lures should arise among large gatherings of humans.”

Kazuko replied: [Such is the theory.]

But Si Zhiyan shook his head.

“At first, I thought so too. But then, there was something strange about the appearance of a certain terrain lure.”

“That is, the very first terrain lure I saw upon arriving in this world—the [Forest].”

Si Zhiyan spread his hands slightly. “It grew right here, at the former site of Tenman Shrine, amidst the jungle of black-thorn deadwood.”

Kazuko’s body lifted a little: [Ah, this is rather…]

“Strange, right?”

“Terrain lures contain immense magical power. Usually, before a settlement is destroyed, one would use it up—drain it until nothing is left, only then facing destruction. Even if everyone was to sacrifice themselves, as at the hot spring festival hall, it would still have been used in the ritual, not wasted.”
“Especially at Tenman Shrine, the central sanctuary led by Aiko.”
“Yet, when the forest lure was discovered, it was simply growing in barren ground, untouched by any ritual.”

“This contradiction allows only one explanation—the forest lure was born after the shrine’s destruction.”

“You have no objection to that, I suppose?”

Kazuko: [That is indeed the case.]

“But isn’t that strange? Its name is [Terrain Lure—Forest]. But in your memory, the natural forest was destroyed in the earliest days of the apocalypse. After the shrine fell, nothing remained but scorched earth.”

Si Zhiyan lifted his hand.

“The so-called ‘forest’ here had long become black-thorn deadwood. Each black-thorn tree was the body of a dead samurai retainer.”

“In other words—my apologies—they had become [anomalies].”

“Which brings us to a curious conclusion: [Terrain lure] can be born not only from humans, but also from anomalies.”
“And what do anomalies and humans have in common?”

Kazuko frowned slightly, the answer all but spoken—

[Obsession.]

“Exactly.”
Si Zhiyan lowered his eyes.

“The body decays, the soul is gone, consciousness no longer exists… For anomalies, the only thing that endures is [obsession].”

“So…”

“The survivors in stable settlements, struggling to persist; the hot spring festival hall’s willing sacrifices; the samurai who, after the shrine’s destruction, still obeyed the will of Aiko, their heavenly lady, with no hesitation, braving fire and water… What is the [obsession] they share?”

“What thing would Aiko herself call a ‘lure’?”

[…]

Something swelled in Kazuko’s chest.
Her hollow, blood-stained sockets trembled as she stared intently at Si Zhiyan.

For a moment, she almost feared the answer.

But Si Zhiyan’s lips parted, and he spoke that word—

“Hope.”

He drew in a deep breath.

“[Hope for the future]. The hope for a life that might be, for something beautiful still to come.”

In the festival hall, countless sacrifices gazed at the anomalies and smiled, stretching their hands out to the terrain lure amid boiling water, kneeling, running to their last breath.
Their corpses spread like petals of a chrysanthemum, radiating from the ritual circle.
Even as their bodies decayed in the matrix, flesh and blood dissolving into mud, they died still striving toward hope, unceasing, one after another.

In the forest of black thorns, the samurai’s shells stood firm, becoming a straight dark forest.
Their bodies destroyed, souls departed, yet still they believed their heavenly lady could bring rebirth to the world.
Even at the end, they held fast their hope and fought for their goddess.

A lure of hope, a little flower blooming out of despair.
Amid the wreckage, the endless wasteland, and the fields of the dead.

Yet, no matter what else, that soft and fragile, vigorous flower swayed slowly in the breeze, glowing with gentle light.

Within Tenman Shrine, [Heaven’s Lady] Aiko knew it all.
She felt both solace and agony, tears beading at the corners of her eyes, her face twisted by sorrow, buried in her slender hand.

No one understood better than she that the world was ending, that there was no medicine, no miracle, that ten deaths awaited for every chance at life.
And still, her people clung to hope.

It was this ember of hope, like bait, that drew everyone to struggle for just one more day—like moths to flame, reaching forever for something ahead.

Wrestling for survival, even in hell.

Aiko locked herself away in the shrine for months, weeping until she had no tears left.

When she finally stepped outside, her resolve was set beyond recall.

She killed, with her own hands, the elder sister she loved most, and pronounced the [Sacrifice Decree].
She was the trusted Heaven’s Lady, and she must gather the last strength of the people to strive—do anything—to find a final hope for all.

——

Kazuko’s shoulders began to tremble.
Her clawed fingers gouged the earth, slick nails cutting deep into the moist ground, blood soaking silently in.

In recent days, Si Zhiyan had quietly arranged a small cottage for Kazuko, the room festooned with her own drawn charms, crisscrossed red threads in the order of the samurai scriptures, a vacant kami shrine left by her father, water dripping like startled deer, an endless cycle of life.
The paper door stood open, and the forest was just as before: cool, still, shadow-dappled, filled with insects, birds, the voice of all creation.

This was Tenman’s Blessed Land—the homeland of the Heaven’s Ladies.

They were once united, the twin daughters of fate.
While she, Kazuko, neglected her training, immersed in flowers, birds, fish, and insects, how much had her slender sister silently endured?

Kazuko lifted her hollow eyes and gazed upward.

In the blood-colored sky, only a single monstrous eye remained. Streaked with scarlet, blood dripping from the pupil, a gaze of hatred and madness fixed on this land—no trace of its former divinity remained.

——

Si Zhiyan gently extended his hand, the mist soft and moist, tenderly closing around Kazuko’s eyes.
“Don’t look.”
He spoke softly,
“That is no longer Aiko.”

“Now, only we can set her free.”

[Proprietor, please tell me your plan.]

Kazuko lifted her head, letting the thick mist envelop her. Her voice was soft, steady—on the surface calm, but beneath it, unshakable, determined, resolute.

[I will give everything for your endeavor. As long as I am able.]

If any of the shrine’s people had been present, they would surely have noticed:
Kazuko’s voice now was the same as Aiko’s in days past, when she presided in the shrine—no difference at all.

“Very well.”

Si Zhiyan nodded, accepting her resolve.

“All those terrain lures of the past were used up like consumables. Their magic, along with the flesh and blood of the faithful, was poured into the ritual matrix.”
“It was one solution, but not one I agree with.”

So he chose another way.

With the spring lure, he grew a resort full of leisure and peace for all to enjoy.
With the forest lure, he grew fruit in the scorched lava wastes, opened a small drink stall, then expanded it into a water park.

There, a battered, broken dragon learned to enjoy life with his beloved in the hot spring; players facing death under the burning sun found respite; friends thought lost opened their doors again; the errant paid sufficient price and died with a last thread of hope…

And rare children, sheltered under their teacher’s wings, listened wide-eyed to words of wisdom.
Something took root in those tender hearts.

Under the farm’s protection, the countless desperate survivors found new hope.

And so, one day, a new flower bloomed, swaying at the drinks shop’s threshold.

Si Zhiyan slowly said, “I want to use its power to bring hope to even more people, to create more terrain lures—no, let’s give them a new name.”

“[Ashen Blooms].”

“In these flowers lies tremendous potential, raising the farm’s integrity. If anything can make up for the gap in power and help us shake the Eye and the Main God, it is they.”

Si Zhiyan gently stroked the vine at his nape.
It curled tightly about his fingers, brazenly caressing his pale, slender wrist, then slipped higher up his hidden skin, winding further inward…

Si Zhiyan was long accustomed to it, casting his eyes down.

Now, the farm’s integrity stood at 61%. Much of this entity’s power had been released.
Once [Terrain Lure—Lava] was consumed, integrity would leap to 71%.

He felt it: a sense both vague and sure, as though he always should have known it—

When integrity reached 81%, a transformation would occur.
Just as it had at 51%, that day would bring sweeping change to the farm itself.

The vine stretched, swelling, thickening, then crept out from beneath Si Zhiyan’s robes. Its bulging tip bit down on the swaying [Terrain Lure—Lava], swallowing it whole.

Ah-woo.