They regarded the sky for a moment. Not yet sunset, but already the bright full moon was visible overhead.
“You know the story of the moon?” Rui asked. “No’in tell it. A monkey, a fox, and a rabbit found an old man starving on the road. He had a fire, but was so weak he couldn’t walk. The monkey could’ve climbed and found a branch of fruit to share, but he was selfish, and he ran off to hide in the trees. Even the fox was suspicious. He could’ve caught a fish in a stream, but he did nothing. The rabbit had nothing to give. He saw how wretched the old man was, and offered to throw himself into the fire so the man would have something to eat.
“Before he could do it, the old man lifted his head and transformed. Because it wasn’t a man, it was a spirit-god: the god of the moon. And so the god thanked the rabbit for his selflessness and offered to let him join them in their kingdom, in the stars and sky.” She pointed. “See? That’s why there’s a rabbit on the moon.”
Sen smiled at that. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. They told me that they’re hunting for me. The people in the capital. That I need to go with Tokuon. That it isn’t safe…”
A silence again.
“What’re you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I just know that, right now, I’m happy. And I know, whatever happens, there will always be this moment. This night, this grove… If we can remember this, we’ll still have a little bit of home inside us, no matter where we go.”
“No matter where,” Rui agreed.
They stayed for a while, watching the early moon and the small tufts of cloud. The world glowed, golden; Rui took it in, feeling Sen’s warmth on the grass beside her as the air began to cool.
Sen lay back with his legs stretched out, feet crossed and an arm behind his head, breathing in the cold air. Above them, the clouds had cleared, and the sky seemed endless, lush and full of changing colors. It felt open; it felt full. Rui liked that. She let her breath go out, then in, breathing the colors and the smells of the grass; she felt the earth, solid and yet soft beneath them, the cool breeze lulling her to sleep, the whisper of Sen’s breath in her ear like a secret, the heat of his touch, the shifting of his ankles against her own, and the warm freedom of knowing they had nowhere else to be but where they were.
But like all else in the world, it was fleeting.
“I want to remember this afternoon for ever,” Sen said. “So it can last me until I see you again.”
“I can still come with you.”
He took Rui’s hand, as he had so many times before, and lay quietly, listening to the subtle cadences of the coming night, the animals and evening grass, the rustle of wind in the leaves.
“We could stay here,” Rui said. “No one would find us ever again. We could do what we want. We could run away.”
Sen turned. “Everything’s so complicated,” he said, and laughed.
A sad sound, a little sound; and yet, a laugh.
By the time they left the bamboo grove, the sun had vanished, spilling long shadows through the woods, and the air glinted with flickers of light. They walked through the trees bending down around them in a tunnel. The sky, beyond them and above, blazed pale gold. Two deer sprinted across the path and vanished. The low sun dipped behind a cloud: the woods swept them with a chill. Something flitted above, swift as birds.
Night came at them fast. Over the whole valley, it fell upon them, the field and winding path, the mountains, the curving road, a thick, deep veil of purple light. It grew darker. It landed on them with the weight of a physical thing, sharp in the mouth, and cold.
Rui shivered. Her breath clouded air. As they walked the long path back toward Kitano, she became aware of something behind them, and when she turned, she saw someone walking at the edge of the trees. She slowed, half a word on her lips, as Sen shifted and saw it too. It was the distant shape of a figure coming toward them in the falling leaves,walking slowly with a lantern in hand. The flame grew brighter as they approached.
Sen planted his feet. “Hello?” He called out again but there was no response. For an instant Rui thought she saw a strange, tall figure, wearing white through the trees. But then they had passed behind the roughened boughs again, and vanished from her sight.
The stranger, she thought, remembering her premonition by the trail. The light was shifting. She turned about and tried to peer through the branches, but the figure was gone.
“Where’d they go?”
“I don’t know,” Rui said. The night seemed suddenly so dark; the world loomed around them, and her breath caught in her throat. It was the same feeling she’d had when Jobo tried speaking with the gods.
Let me in, the stranger seemed to say.Let me in.
Now a new voice came, swift as shadow, cold as ice.
“You’re here.”
The red trees shivered, bending with a crackling, muddy sound, like roots in a swamp, like branches in rain.
“I know you’re here,” said the voice again, sibilant as wind. It dripped across the grass. Sen retreated, hand out, as if to guard Rui, or perhaps reaching for her own.
When she turned, a figure in black stood before them. The world seemed to go still.
