By the Grace of Chaos

Despite the outward chaos, a sense of choreography ran the course of this parade. Each float was interspersed by a team of musicians. Some trilled on flutes while others rang bells in a haunting resonance. The soundscape was exquisitely layered, even if one instrument managed to overshadow the rest—and it was widely associated with the battlefields of the Genpei War.

Taiko drums. Deep, decadent, and restless.

Shindara searched for the drummers, but they remained hidden behind the swell of performers. Instead, a hundred synchronized dancers undulated through the streets. Many wore lavish costumes fashioned after aristocrats and legendary figures. The boldest among them paid tribute to the Shinto pantheon, including a woman dressed as the sun goddess herself. Of course, that was nothing to say of her surreal cavalry.

Her entourage rode horses draped in the most impractical yet astonishing armor. Dripping in silver baubles, jade scales, and golden chains, they trotted past Shindara like something out of a fever dream. Despite those gleaming chains, this was unrestrained. This truly was an event to outshine all others and usher in a new era. The Kamakura Era.

Shindara’s pulse hammered when a battle cry rang out. Warring samurai, or rather, actors dressed as samurai, were enacting a duel on one of the moving floats. One combatant reeled from a blow and staggered to his knees. When he finally collapsed in a heap, scarlet silks were tossed across his “corpse,” drawing gasps and raucous cheers from the crowd.

And a few seconds later, the same man was back on his feet and slashing at his opponent with renewed gusto.

This was mayhem on a scale that Shindara could only dream of. Of course, it is the most egregious dreams that never last. One word from Tomoe sent a jolt through him. “Now.”

She plunged into the fray. Shindara thought nothing of it as he followed her. She moved swiftly—almost too quickly. She slipped through the gaps in the parade with ease that left him struggling to keep up. He was still trying to reach her when the dancers closed ranks. Their whirling movements forced him to skitter backward.

In the process, he nearly bumped into a group of men hauling a ceremonial cart. The sheer enormity of it made him pause. It was a shrine on wheels, a towering contraption adorned in tassels and lanterns.

Behind it, a series of mobile structures were gathering momentum. Heavenly boats. Curtained pavilions. Celestial thrones. These lacquered works of art must have taken years to craft. It truly was a feat of ingenuity to see them set free in the streets.

The central avenue flowed like an artery down the middle of Kamakura, and if there was ever a beating heart to this city, it would be Hachimangu Temple. As they neared their destination, Shindara wasn’t surprised to see priests in the streets. Their chants synced up perfectly with the staggered beat of taiko drums, vibrating like a sonic wave through Shindara’s chest. He watched as some of the monks doused the crowds with buckets of purifying water.

It was one thing to experience the Star Festival as a bystander, but he never imagined becoming a part of it. Nothing compared to the wild masses pressing in around him, to garner the admiration of those who thought he was innocently playing a role. If only they knew how guilty he was of being an instigator. Shindara wanted to laugh as some of the spectators erupted in cheers at his passing. This felt like playing with fire even if he was walking through puddles of holy water.

Their only hope was to move unseen, so long as the guards didn’t recognize them. Just like that, the cheers of the crowd were drowned out by eerie howls. Turning back, he saw performers dressed as yōkai creatures. This effect was achieved through a combination of masks and elaborate body paint. Free the imagination and it looked like they were being invaded by drowned spirits, hawk-faced tengu demons, and mountain ogres.

Shindara chuckled at the sight. These city folk should be so lucky that they never faced a real monster.

To his amusement, one of the performers was dressed in the likeness of the Yōkai King, or more accurately, Nura. In fact, it gave him a start at first. As Shindara’s gaze drifted across his immaculate armor, he realized it was a little too otherworldly. A little too perfect to be a costume. When he saw the actor’s mask, he realized he was looking upon the real Nura.

“Oh my…”

God indeed.

The most ingenious part of it was how naturally he blended in with the procession. He wouldn’t raise any concern among the military or unsuspecting citizens. If the Universe had an ill-timed sense of humor, it was this: The self-proclaimed Yōkai King had gone from one demonic parade to quite another.

Shindara wondered if he brought this disaster on himself. Now fate was winking directly back at him.

And Nura made no attempt to disguise how he was staring at Shindara, too. He tilted his helmet in mock recognition but didn’t approach.

Intimidation was more effective than violence, and this random appearance meant to prove as much. Still, Nura couldn’t resist lifting his spear and aiming for Shindara’s head. Then, he casually shifted it toward Izanami.

“Damn it,” Shindara cursed.

She gave him a questioning look.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he replied, quickly spinning her away. “I’m just afraid we’re running out of time.” That half-truth held more meaning than either one could fathom. This would be a delicate dance as he tried to outrun Nura and stop Mikoto in time. When he risked another glance back, the “Yōkai King” had been corralled in by street performers. Dancers flocked around him, some kneeling and pretending to worship him.

Paper decorations rained across Nura, reducing him to something harmless. Almost comical. Beneath the pageantry and theatrics, he was anything but harmless. He wasn’t here to kill, but he was here to remind Shindara that he could.

And he refused to let Nura play with his mind for another second.