Despite the outward chaos, an element of choreography ran the course of this parade. Every unique float was interspersed by a team of musicians. Some of them played flutes while others rang ancient bells. It was exquisitely layered, even if one instrument managed to overshadow the rest—and it was one he associated with the battlefields of the Genpei War. Shindara could hear taiko drums hammering out a decadent beat, but thus far, he couldn’t see the drummers.
Instead, a hundred synchronized dancers undulated through the streets like a tide rushing in from the sea. Many wore lavish costumes in the likeness of aristocrats and legendary figures. The boldest among them paid tribute to the Shinto pantheon, including a woman dressed as the sun goddess. 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 in a mouth-watering sight.
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 quickened when a battle cry rang out. Enraged samurai, or rather, actors dressed as samurai, were enacting a duel from one of the moving floats. As the defeated party “succumbed” to his wounds, he collapsed to his knees. He toppled over while red silks fell across his corpse, drawing raucous noises from the audience. Ten heartbeats later, the same actor 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. Yet, it is the most egregious dreams that never last. One word from Tomoe sent the adrenaline spiking through his veins.
“Now.”
She plunged into the fray.
Shindara thought nothing of it as he followed her. She moved swiftly through the labyrinthian procession, almost too quickly for him to keep up. He was desperately trying to reach her when the dancers in front of him closed ranks. Their whirling, precise movements forced him to skitter backward. In the process, he nearly bumped into a group of men dragging a ceremonial cart. The massive construct was inspiring in the way it resembled a shrine on wheels. Tassels and lanterns dangled from every tier of the platform, but the topmost section was teeming with performers.
A series of portable structures were gaining speed behind Shindara. Heavenly boats, curtained pavilions, and celestial thrones accounted for a small fragment of the displays. These lacquered works of art must have taken years to finish for such an occasion. It truly was a feat of ingenuity as they maneuvered past the roaring crowds.
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. Given their destination, Shindara wasn’t surprised to see Shinto priests in the streets. Their chants injected freshly ominous energy. It synced up perfectly with the staggering 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 met his eyes and erupted in cheers. This felt like playing with fire even if he was walking through puddles of holy water.
This was their only chance so long as the guards didn’t recognize them.
When members of the audience began howling with fright, Shindara wondered if that danger was about to collide with his current reality. He was relieved when he saw the object of their fascination. Glancing backward, he spotted 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 smallpox demons, vengeful spirits, and mountain ogres.
Shindara couldn’t help but chuckle 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. 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 alarm 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 literally another.
Shindara wondered if he tempted this disaster with his arrogance. A few hours ago, he was drowning in so much sexual bliss that he didn’t care if Nura found them. 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 to the side in mock recognition, but he didn’t make any attempt to approach. Intimidation was more effective than violence, and this random appearance was designed to sow maximum fear. Still, Nura couldn’t resist lifting his spear and pretending to aim for Shindara’s head. Then he casually aimed for Izanami’s.
“Damn it,” Shindara cursed, drawing a curious look from her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he replied, awkwardly spinning Izanami away from her ex-husband. “I’m just afraid we’re running out of time.” That half-truth held more meaning than either one could imagine. This would be a delicate dance as he tried to outrun Nura and sabotage Mikoto’s plot. When he looked back, Nura was obstructed by street performers, some of whom paid mock worship to him. He seemed woefully harmless as paper decorations rained across him, but therein lie the irony of what he truly was.
Beautifully volatile.
And Shindara refused to give in to his mind games for a second longer.
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