Page 21 of Caught in the Devil’s Hand

The priest, having finished his sermon earlier, waited until the last shovel of dirt was thrown on top of the grave before making his way back to the temple. As soon as he was out of earshot, the village leader and his wife descended upon her. Akki, of course, was the first to speak.

“My, oh my, where did you get that dress, Shumei?” she asked, acting as though she was being genial, but she’d spoken too quickly to sound anything but suspicious. “It’s a fitting color on a day like this.”

“My mother told me as she was dying that my father had given it to her when they married, but it was too fine for working in the fields, so she never wore it. She wanted me to have it because my other dress was in such disrepair,” she explained, having worked out an excuse with Oka late last night.

Oka remained passive at her side, and his face gave away nothing when Akki’s gaze shot to him to see if he was at all surprised by Shumei’s answer.

Shumei had been forced to tell Oka about Vallen. She had left out the worst details, only saying she had agreed to “work” for the demon in exchange for sparing her life—technically not a lie. Fortunately, her brother had not pressed for a more specific answer.

“I see,” Akki said slowly.

“I had wondered how Father had afforded such a dress, but it was not an appropriate time to question Mother about such things.” She turned her gaze to her brother. “I’m simply grateful Oka is alive. He’s very precious to me.”

“As he is to us all,” Akki agreed with a smile Shumei almost believed. Almost. Shumei had learned never to trust anyone’s outward demeanor. Many villagers had told her she was going to Oblivion someday while wearing smiles that, at a distance, made them seem as though they were paying her a compliment.

“Thank you, Madam Akki,” she said, wishing she could make the vulgar gesture without being seen.

Glancing over Akki’s shoulder, she was briefly ensnared in Kimen’s lustful expression. He looked like he was about to eat a mouse.

“Well, Kimen and I must be going. I’m sure you have a lot of work to do in the fields today now that your mother is gone,” Akki prodded, smile growing as she relished the cut to Shumei’s composure. But Shumei gave no outward reaction. Clearly disappointed, Akki abruptly turned away and walked past her husband, who stared a moment longer before turning away as well.

Shumei and Oka watched as the gravediggers patted the dirt down, spreading out the remainder to make the extra volume of soil less obvious.

The burial site was in a smaller cemetery behind the regular cemetery, which was now much fuller than it had been before winter. The smaller cemetery was meant for black-haired villagers, and it only had two more places left before it would be full. An extension would have to be made someday.

If one wanted to read the names of deceased black-haired villagers, one wouldn’t find any. To give a crow’s soul a clean slate and prevent any lurking evils from following their soul to the Garden of the Divine One, a black-haired villager was buried with no name on their tombstone—only a date of death. Each grave marker was a simple, stone column. Nearly forty crows had been buried here. The oldest tombstone was close to three hundred years old. In fact, several black-haired villagers seemed to have died at the same time.

“I wonder what a priest might say during my funeral,” a sultry voice said. Turning in surprise and jostling Oka, Shumei found the somber face of the witch. “I heard what you said about your new dress, and I must say I’m ever so curious to know how your father obtained such a fine piece of work.” She gestured at the embroidery along the bottom. “Water lilies suit you rather well, though I might’ve chosen a different color for the dye work.”

“Did you need something, Madam Majo?” Shumei asked, a blush coloring her cheeks despite her best attempts to prevent it. Even after what she’d done with Vallen, twice, the memory of Majo’s hands on her breasts still flustered her.

Majo smiled and folded her arms, which made her breasts swell upward. She glanced at Oka, who regarded her silently.

“I wanted to inquire after your health, my dear,” she said. “It would be a shame if you were to come down with the Burning as well.”

Though the nausea had returned earlier that morning, she felt fine now. When she had woken, sleeping on her mother’s old mat with her brother tucked in front of her, her chest had felt constricted, as if her dress were tied too tightly. Then the nausea had begun. She had left Oka sleeping while she’d endured it, and it had lasted a couple of hours.

“I’m fine, Madam Majo. I haven’t had any of the usual symptoms.” Of course, vomiting was not a symptom of the Burning, so she wasn’t lying—not really. Majo’s gaze slid down to Shumei’s chest, and she blushed brightly when Majo’s smile widened.

“You certainly look healthy, my dear,” she said with overt mischief. “Ah, but take care of yourself anyway. I look forward to your delivery next week.” Of the three idling villagers still milling about, the two men ogled the witch and the old woman scowled at her, but she paid them no heed as she swept past, walking sedately back to her home.

Now that their entertainment for the day was over, the villagers meandered away, and Shumei wondered why they didn’t help in the fields, seeing as how the village was already shorthanded. Many people were still sick.

“We’re done,” one of the gravediggers called. Oka moved away from her.

“Thank you for your hard work, sirs,” he said as he tipped his head down. The gravediggers exchanged confused looks, no doubt because Oka outranked them despite his young age. They returned his bow.

“It was no problem, Master Oka,” the bigger one said. “We have to get back to the fields now. S-Sorry for your loss.” With that, the two of them left, carrying their tools with them.

Shumei watched their retreating backs for a few seconds before approaching her mother’s grave, which had been dug into the southeastern corner of the cemetery. She’d easily be able to pick out this spot again, so she would have no trouble praying at the right grave in the future.

“Mother has happiness now. You know that, don’t you?” Oka said quietly as he pressed close to her side again. She put her arm around his back. “She’s in the Garden of the Divine One with our father. She knows no sadness now.”

“I know that, Oka, but I mourn the life she had when she was here. I mourn that her passing wasn’t easier and that we didn’t have more time with her.”

They fell silent for a moment, both gazing sadly at the fresh marker driven into the ground at the head of their mother’s grave.

“Why is life so hard?” Oka eventually asked, sniffing.