Chapter 1
The gravel crunched under tires as I pulled into the usual spot, parking my Volvo next to Jukka's ancient Toyota. Dawn was just starting to break through the autumn fog, painting everything in muted grays. In the back seat, Nakki stood up, his red coat visible in my rearview mirror. He knew what was coming.
"You're late," Jukka called out as I stepped from the car. He was already kitted up in his orange vest, leaning against his truck's hood with a thermos in hand. Steam rose from the cup in lazy swirls.
"Roads were icy," I said, popping the trunk. "Better slow than stuck in a ditch."
Matti and his son Antti were there too, checking their shotguns by their Subaru. The kid had only gotten his hunting license this season, and his enthusiasm made me feel old. I remembered being like that once, before hunting became less about the excitement and more about the quiet moments between shots.
"How's the new scope working out?" Matti asked as I lifted my rifle case from the trunk.
"Well enough. Though with ammunition prices these days, I'm starting to think I should've stuck with my old one." I set the case down and reached back for Nakki's water bowl. The Finnish Spitz hopped out, immediately going to greet Matti's younger dog, Bella. The two had been hunting partners since Bella was a pup.
"Could always switch to bow hunting," Jukka suggested, grinning over his coffee. "Very traditional."
"Says the man who spent more on his range finder than I did on my scope." I pulled on my orange vest, checking the pockets out of habit – licenses, permits, extra rounds all where they should be.
Antti was practically bouncing as he joined us. "Did you guys see the forecast? They're saying perfect conditions until noon."
"Heard that before," Matti said, but he was smiling. "Just remember what I told you about checking your zones before taking a shot."
I opened my rifle case, going through the familiar motions of assembly. The morning air was crisp enough to make my fingers ache a bit, but muscle memory took over. Stock, barrel, scope. Check, check, check. Nakki sat beside me, watching the process with the patience of long familiarity.
"Remember last season?" Jukka asked suddenly. "When Nakki found those morel mushrooms instead of grouse? Never seen a hunting dog so proud of finding fungi."
I laughed, checking the magazine on my rifle and adjusting the straps of my backpack. "He's got diverse interests. More than I can say for some hunters I know."
"You're never going to let me live down that bird identification test, are you?"
"Three times, Jukka. You failed it three times."
The banter died down as we finished our preparations. There was always this moment, just before heading out, when the mood shifted. Hunting wasn't just about getting meat for the freezer. It was about something older, something that lived in the quiet spaces between trees and in the crunch of frost under boots.
"Everyone ready?" Matti asked, shouldering his shotgun. A chorus of nods answered him. "Same formation as usual?"
"Works for me," I said, checking Nakki's collar one last time. "Nakki and I'll take the east side, work our way up toward the ridge."
"Try not to find any more mushrooms," Jukka added, and then we were moving out, spreading into our usual positions as we entered the forest proper.
The fog hung between the birch trees, thick enough to muffle our footsteps. Nakki moved ahead of me, his red coat a bright splash against the morning gray. The radio at my hip crackled.
"Got one," Matti's voice came through, barely above a whisper. "Think I winged it. Went down somewhere east of the old pine."
I pressed the talk button. "I'm closest. We'll check it out."
Nakki's ears perked up at Matti's voice from the radio, but he kept his focus, nose working the air as we changed course. The grouse would have left a scent trail, especially if it was injured. Better to find it quickly than let it suffer.
That's when Nakki's behavior changed. His confident hunting stride faltered, ears swiveling toward something I couldn't see. I watched his tail lower slightly, head cocking to one side.
"What is it, boy?"
He glanced back at me, then forward again, letting out a low whine. The mist seemed thicker here, curling around the bases of the birch trees. As I drew even with Nakki, I saw what had caught his attention.
Half-buried in the exposed roots of an old birch lay what looked like a stone figure, no larger than my palm. Moss grew over it in patches, but something about how it caught the morning light made it stand out from the usual forest debris. I crouched down for a closer look, my rifle slung across my back.
Nakki whined again, taking a step backward.
"Easy," I murmured, though something in his reaction made me hesitate. In eight seasons of hunting, I'd never seen him act like this. Not around bears, not around wolves. I brushed some moss away from the figure with my gloved hand. The stone was warm despite the morning frost, its surface carved with patterns that seemed to shift when I wasn't looking directly at them. The face might have been human or animal—each time I tried to focus on its features, they seemed to be arranged differently.
The radio crackled. "Any sign of that grouse?" Matti's voice was barely audible through static.
I reached for the radio, but my hand froze halfway. The mist was moving wrong. Not drifting with the wind, but coiling around the roots of the birch, around my boots, around Nakki who had started backing away, his bark building in his throat.
The figure was hot now, hot enough that I could feel it through my glove. I should have dropped it. Should have left it there among the roots and moss. Instead, I stared at it, watching as lines of light began to trace their way along its carved patterns.
Nakki's bark exploded through the forest, sharp with fear. The radio buzzed, someone's voice lost in a surge of static. The mist rushed in, thick and white, carrying with it a scent I'd never encountered in any Finnish forest—something floral and ancient and wrong.
My fingers wouldn't open. The figure burned against my palm, its light bleeding through the gaps in my fingers, through my closed eyelids. Holy fuck, it was so bright.
The world tilted sideways, or maybe I was falling. It certainly felt like it. In the dark abyss, Nakki's bark seemed to come from everywhere at once, then from very far away.
Then silence.
The first thing I noticed was Nakki's breathing—too quick, too alert. Not the steady rhythm I was used to when we bedded down in hunting blinds. My head throbbed, and the air felt wrong, thick with humidity instead of autumn frost.
"Stay still," a woman's voice said. "You took quite a tumble down that river."
I opened my eyes to unfamiliar trees, their canopy dense with leaves that belonged in no forest I knew. Nakki sat at attention near my feet, ears forward, tail still. Not alarmed, but intensely focused on something.
Someone. A woman sitting cross-legged by a small fire, methodically gutting fish with practiced movements. Dark hair tied back, a sword propped against the log beside her, and—
I blinked hard, wondering if the headache was worse than I thought. Two horns sprouted from her forehead, curving up like a young deer's antlers.
"Your dog's quite remarkable," she said, not looking up from her work. "Most animals either run or attack when they catch my scent. This one just stood guard until I fished you both out." She flicked another cleaned fish onto a flat stone. "You're welcome, by the way."
I tried to sit up, immediately regretted it. "Thank you," I managed, the words catching as I really looked at our surroundings. The trees, the birds, even the quality of light filtering through the canopy—none of it looked, sounded, or even smelled familiar.
She studied me now, eyes shifting color like sunlight through leaves. "Pale as a noble, but those aren't a noble's hands." She gestured at my callused fingers. "And I've never seen clothes like yours, even among the traders from the continent." Her eyes narrowed. "You're not from around here at all, are you?"
It was only then, when a chill ran down across the length of my body in response to a gust of wind, that I finally noticed that I had been stripped down to basically nothing. My clothes hung up to dry on a nearby tree branch.
I opened my mouth to answer, but what could I say? The whole situation felt surreal—the strange forest, this woman with horns acting like pulling strangers from rivers was just another day's work.
"Those horns..." I blurted out before I could stop myself. Her posture shifted, suddenly alert, and I immediately wished I could take the words back.
"Ah, so you noticed." Her hand drifted closer to her sword hilt. "Usually when humans see them, they either start screaming about evil oni or try to chop my head off. Or both, depending on who you are."
"Oni?" I echoed, the unfamiliar term hanging in the air between us. Something in my confused expression made her pause.
She looked at me intently, then glanced at Nakki, who had moved to sit beside her as if this was all perfectly normal.
"You really have no idea what an oni is, do you?" She asked, still wary, but her wariness was mixed with curiosity now.
"I… suppose not? It's not like people with horns growing out of their head are exactly commonplace where I'm from."
She laughed, a sound like distant wind chimes. "Oni are... well, most call us demons or spirits. We're neither, really." Her hands returned to preparing the fish, though her eyes remained on me. "My name is Okunami, by the way. Ronin and currently also something of a "troublemaker" for the local authorities," she added with a hint of pride. "And you are...?"
"Mikko," I offered. "And this is Nakki." At the sound of his name, my dog's tail swept once across the ground, but his attention remained fixed on Okunami. "Where exactly have we found ourselves at?"
"That question has many answers." Okunami skewered the fish on green sticks and positioned them over the fire. "We're in the forest that borders the western mountains. The humans call it the Forbidden Forest because they believe it's haunted." She grinned, revealing teeth that seemed just a touch too sharp. "They're not entirely wrong, the spirits that dwell within it have become increasingly agitated."
I eased myself into a sitting position, wincing at the protest from my ribs. The clothes hanging from the branch were still clearly moist—my hunting vest, thermal layers, everything had been soaked thoroughly.
Nothing about this made sense. One moment I'd been in the familiar woods, and now I was in some place called the Forbidden Forest, talking to a horned woman who casually referred to "humans" as if they were aliens from another planet.
"When you say spirits," I said carefully, "You mean as like a turn of phrase, right? Not like actual incorporeal beings?"
Okunami's laugh was sudden and loud. "The spirit that nearly drowned you seemed very real to me." She gestured toward the river I could now hear rushing somewhere beyond the trees. "You're lucky I was passing by. The river yokai rarely release what they claim."
Nakki padded over to my side, pressing his warm body against me as if sensing my disorientation. I automatically ran my hand through his damp fur, the familiar texture grounding me somewhat.
"Yokai?" I repeated, the unfamiliar term tasting strange on my tongue. "Look, I was in Finland—northern Europe—just moments ago. Hunting with friends. There was this strange stone figure with like carvings on it, and then the mist..."
Okunami stopped tending the fish, her expression shifting from amusement to something more serious. "A stone figure with carvings, huh? Sounds like you picked up some kind of cursed idol."
Okunami tilted her head, examining me more closely. "A cursed idol… That's unusual." She turned the fish, the skin sizzling as it caught the heat. "The boundary between the realms of man and spirit grows thinner in certain places. Perhaps you stumbled upon such a crossing."
I rubbed my temples, trying to process what she was telling me. The pain in my head wasn't helping.
"Oi, you need a drink?" Okunami asked as she reached for a bamboo flask tied to her belt. "Not water—something stronger. You look like you could use it."
I nodded, still trying to make sense of everything. She passed me the flask, and I took a cautious sip. The liquid burned going down, nothing like the vodka or whiskey I was familiar with. It tasted of fermented rice with an undercurrent of something herbal and strange.
"Sake," she explained, noticing my expression. "Not the refined stuff they serve in the houses of the local lords, but it does the job. Distilled it myself."
I took another sip, letting the unfamiliar warmth spread through my chest. It did help, though whether it was the alcohol or simply having something familiar to do, I couldn't say.
"So," I said finally, passing the flask back to her, "if I've understood correctly, I'm not exactly anywhere close to home anymore. I'm... where exactly?" A terrible thought struck me.
"You're in the Iwami province, in the domain of Lord Asano."
"Iwami province," I repeated, the name completely unfamiliar. "And where would that be in relation to, say, Europe? Or even Asia?"
Okunami looked at me with confusion briefly before she checked the fish, turning them with practiced ease. "You are in the land of Nihon, what some foreigner traders call 'Zipang.' Though I've never heard of these 'Europe' or 'Asia' places you mentioned." She passed me the flask again. "Take another drink. You look like you still need it."
Zipang or something close to it at least was the name that people used for Japan before it was known as Japan.
My heart stuttered. Japan. I was somehow in feudal Japan. The unfamiliar trees, the terms she used—it all clicked into a picture that made no sense and perfect sense simultaneously.
However, that still didn't explain the horns, so in some ways I felt like I was even more lost now than before. If this is some sort of fantasy alternative version of Japan's past then what else is there besides creatures like the one in front of me right now.
"Are you alright?" Okunami asked, her otherworldly eyes studying me. "You've gone even paler."
"Just... processing," I managed. "I realize now that I'm very, very far from home. Further than I first thought. So far in fact that I don't know if I can ever go back."
Nakki pressed closer to my side, as if sensing my distress. At least I had him. Whatever strange magic had brought us here hadn't separated us. I scratche him behind the ear appreciatively.
"I know how that feels, the village that my tribe had lived in for generations was burnt to ashes during one of the countless scuffles between human lords because one of them thought we were helping the other side," Okunami said, removing the fish from the fire. She handed me one on a broad leaf. "Eat. Food helps when the world stops making sense."
The fish was hot and simply prepared, but delicious. Hunger hit me suddenly, and I realized I hadn't eaten since the quick breakfast before our hunting trip. I pulled a small bone free and offered it to Nakki, who accepted it delicately.
"Thank you." I said gratefully before digging in.
"You're quite welcome." The horned woman said as silence descended between us.
As we ate, the reality of my situation began to settle around me like a heavy cloak. Japan. Feudal Japan, if I was reading the signs correctly. A place and time I knew only through movies and books, and those were hardly reliable guides.
"So," I said finally, watching the shadows grow longer as evening approached, "what happens now?"
Okunami tossed a fish bone into the fire, where it crackled and smoked. "Now? I'll wait until nightfall and then continue my journey to Irontown. I believe there'll be work there for someone with my particular strength and skills." She patted the sword at her side. "At least I like to think so. I'd like to have a place where I can have a roof over my head without having to worry about someone either ratting me out or trying to slit my throat."
I considered my options, which were admittedly few. Lost in what appeared to be a fairytale version of feudal Japan, with only my hunting dog and the clothes slowly drying on the branch. The rational part of my brain still insisted this was some kind of elaborate hallucination—perhaps I'd hit my head when I fell, or maybe there had been something toxic on that stone figure.
But Nakki's presence beside me felt real. The ache in my ribs felt real. The taste of the strange fish and the burn of Okunami's sake in my throat felt real.
"Irontown," I repeated, testing the name on my tongue. Something about it stirred memories within the confines of my mind.
"It's not the kind of place you'll find on a map, but you're welcome to travel with me if you've nowhere else to go."
I nodded slowly. "I think I'd like that."
"Good. I could use the company."
Okunami's smile was unexpected, as if she wasn't used to smiling much and was still figuring out how it worked. It was strangely reassuring.
The fire burned low, casting dancing shadows around us. Birds called to each other in the thickening twilight, and for a brief moment, the strangeness of this new world dulled into something almost manageable.
"We should sleep," Okunami said, "We'll need the strength and awareness for when we traverse at night, you especially given you don't have night vision."
I nodded before looking around for my backpack, noticing it was leaning against the same tree on the branch of which my clothes were drying.
"I unfortunately do not have an extra blanket, but you're free to have my cape to keep you warm…"
"Don't worry, I've got my own sleeping arrangements." I replied back as I found the sleeping bag that I had packed with me. It was rated for winter conditions so it was more than suited for my current environment. Me and the rest of the guys were originally planning on staying at the local hunting association's cottage for the night before all of this.
I looked at the bag and thought of them again. They had to have reported me missing by now. Maybe they were back in the forest, calling my name through the trees, searching for any sign. I felt a pang of guilt about what I was putting them through.
Could I really be here while they were still there? Or were Okunami and Nakki and all the rest just figments conjured up by my battered brain?
I unrolled my sleeping bag near the fire, pushing those thoughts away as best I could. One thing at a time. That's what my father always said.
Okunami who had already settled herself onto her own spot seemed impressed judging by her whistle at the bright red nylon and down.
"You come from a strange land indeed. Such fine things you have."
"Yeah," I replied, trying to sound casual. "Guess I do."
"Perhaps you can trade it for something you need." She yawned, lying back and turning her head slightly toward me.
Trading one of the few comfortable ways to sleep out in the wild? Yeah, no thanks, I think I'll hold onto one of the few modern comforts I have.
Nakki circled at my feet, then curled up against me, radiating warmth and comfort. I gave him a quick scratch behind the ears before climbing into the bag. The zipper's metallic rasp echoed in the hushed night as I cocooned myself inside.
I watched the stars blink to life in the sky, tiny pinpricks against the larger fabric of darkness. The air was crisp and carried a hint of mystery, reminding me just how far I was from home.
I closed my eyes, hoping for sleep, but visions of Irontown danced in my thoughts. I tried to imagine what awaited me there—a bustling village perhaps, with narrow streets and paper lanterns swaying gently in the breeze. Or maybe something different, something unexpected. In this world, it seemed anything was possible.
"Wake up, it's time to go." I was shook awake, only the last embers of the campfire allowed me to see Okunami crouched over me, her eyes reflecting the faint light. Nakki was already up, stretching and yawning beside me.
"Sleep well?" Okunami asked as I scrambled out of my sleeping bag, the cold air a harsh contrast to the warmth I'd been wrapped in.
"As well as can be expected," I said, rubbing my eyes. The night had passed without incident, though my dreams were filled with fragments of memories and places that never quite came into focus.
"Good." She stood, brushing leaves from her clothes. "We'll want to reach the river by morning. You should hold onto me so you don't get lost in the darkness, the forest holds many dangers to someone who is as defensless in the dark as you."
I could easily see why she told me to do so. The world around us was shrouded in almost pitch black darkness, no light pollution from distant cities to color the night sky. My breath hung in the chilly air as I got dressed and packed my gear, the sleeping bag compressing into a small bundle. Okunami watched me with curiosity, her head tilted slightly.
With camp broken down and our belongings secured, I grabbed onto my new companion's arm and we set off. Stars wheeled overhead, and my heavy footsteps were loud in the silence of the woods. Okunami moved like a shadow by comparison, her presence more felt than seen. Nakki trotted beside us, his eyes glowing softly.
In these quiet moments, the strangeness of my new surroundings was stark. I focused on keeping up, trying not to trip over unseen roots or underbrush.
"So," I ventured, breaking the silence. "What's Irontown like?"
"It is a place of makers and craftsmen," Okunami replied, her voice low in the dark. "Metal flows like water there, and the people are strong as the iron they work on."
"Sounds interesting," I said, trying to envision it. The idea of a town made of industry and artistry intrigued me.
"You will see for yourself soon enough." Her tone carried a hint of amusement. "So long as you don't get lost first or eaten by one of Moro's children."
"Moro?"
"The Wolf Goddess, she's a massive white wolf with a maw big enough to bite an ox in half and swallow a man whole," Okunami said. "You'll want to be careful if you ever run across her."
Her words sent a shiver through me, and I cast a nervous glance into the surrounding trees. "Does she... uh, eat people often?"
"Only when they trespass on her lands," she replied lightly, as if that was somehow reassuring. "But fear not, we are only passing through."
I tightened my grip on her arm in response as we pressed forward, the cold seeping through my layers of insulation ever so slightly despite me wearing winter clothes. The night was alive with unfamiliar sounds—rustling leaves and somewhere in the distance, a lone night bird called out, its cry haunting and strange.
I clung to Okunami's arm like it was a lifeline, her warmth and presence, despite its unfamiliar origin, anchoring me in this world that still felt foreign.
I again wondered about home and if my family was searching for me alongside my friends and the authorities, if they were back in the forest calling my name through the trees, worried sick. The thought twisted my gut with guilt, but I shoved it away.
One thing at a time.
The darkness deepened as we moved farther from our abandoned campsite and into the treeline. Okunami's pace was steady and sure; she seemed to know this path well. My thoughts drifted back to Irontown. What would I find there? An escape? A new beginning of sorts? I wasn't sure whether I should abandon the thought of getting home so quickly.
I had gotten into this situation through supernatural means, surely the answer to getting back was also something beyond the ordinary.
Whatever the case may be, for now, I would follow the path laid before me and see where it led.