Cold-Blooded: A DC Universe Fanfiction (#Wattys2015)

Chapter 20: Rose: Enshrined

Nestled among the skyscrapers of Tokyo's financial district was an incongruity: a sliver of land devoted to a small granite shrine set in a garden, now snow-covered and pristine. Yukie led them to the entrance but stopped before they went into the shrine itself, a stone pillar engraved with kanji flanked by pedestals with arrangements of branches of pine and holly. A small altar before it was spread with offerings, bottles of sake and such, while an incense burner in front of that spread a bluish haze of scented smoke through the air.

For some reason, the four corners of the shrine each had a guardian frog (although maybe they were toads.) The frogs did not match, and they looked ridiculous.

"At this moment, you are standing on some of the most expensive real estate on the face of the earth," Yukie informed them. "Every square meter is worth several million dollars. Yet despite the great value of the property, despite its prime location, as the Imperial Palace is only five minutes away, despite the many corporations both foreign and domestic which would gladly pay any price asked to be able to build here, this land remains reserved as a shrine to the memory of Taira no Masakado, Japan's first samurai. Would either of you care to hazard a guess as to why?"

Since her father did not seem inclined to answer, Rose offered, "Because…even though so much has changed, it's still important to remember and honor the past?"

"That's partly correct, and it's the only answer most people will admit to," Yukie nodded her approval. "The real reason is that he doesn't like it when people try to build anything on his last resting place. In truth, it's the resting place of only his head. The rest of him wound up on the location of what is now the Kanda Myojin shrine. Let me go back and relate to you some of his history.

"Masakado was born in the year 903. He was a minor warlord who successfully led a rebellion and assumed control of eight provinces in Eastern Japan, then declared he was the new emperor. The real emperor liked that about as much as you might expect, and it was not long before Masakado was betrayed during a battle and slain. His head was cut off, mounted on a special stand as a trophy, and sent to Kyoto as a present for the emperor, who had it put on public display to show what happened to upstart rebels. That was in 940.

"However, three months later, the head, which by all accounts was still wonderfully fresh and savage looking, disappeared. At the time, it was said that it wrenched itself off its spike and flew off in search of his body in the hopes of reattaching itself and coming back to life properly. I prefer to think that someone who remained loyal to Masakado even after his death took it down and rode away with it in order to see interred honorably. Whatever happened, his head wound up here on this spot in what was then called Shibasaki. Tokyo has been called by several names over the ages, and at the time it was only a small fishing village.

"The villagers were horrified by the appearance of the head in both senses of the word 'appearance'. They washed it, performed the appropriate rites, buried it here and erected a small stone memorial to his memory. For ten years, he rested here peacefully, and the most excitement the villagers had was when Masakado's daughter, Lady Takiyasha, who was a sorceress, came here to summon up a skeletal yokai to take revenge on those who betrayed her sire. The summoning worked very well to all accounts."

"Take notes, Rose," Slade Wilson quipped. "If it comes to it, that's what I expect of you."

"Very funny, Dad. So what happened ten years later?"

"The burial mound started to shake and glow," Yukie replied, "and the ghost of a bedraggled samurai started haunting the neighborhood. They said the proper prayers and he settled down again. For another two hundred and fifty years, all was quiet, but then the Tendai Buddhist sect built a temple here. Masakado did not care for that, and he expressed his displeasure through plagues and natural calamities for a hundred years until a priest of the Amida sect came by and took over tending his shrine. Another three hundred years went by, and the shrine itself was moved, but the memorial remained when the land became the garden of someone's residence. That didn't bother him; as supernatural neighbors go, he was untroublesome as long as he remained untroubled.