THE HOUSHAKI

Kawashima was sent because of her ability to move in silence, her feet not even snapping a single twig on her way through the trees. She had crept silently through the Grey Woods, up the mountainside, and into the beast's enormous nest. She began to tremble, gently at first but with increasing nervousness, until she dropped silently to one knee, unable to breathe. She couldn't do this. No one could. She, alone and unaided, with only her father's knife to protect herself, had been sent to kill the Houshaki as it slept.
Tears clouded her vision as her lungs strained for breath, but she fought the urge to sob. The beast would undoubtedly hear her; it was no more than ten feet away. Then it would be awake, and would devour her in a single gulp. After an eternity, air found its way down her throat. She breathed again, silently, under control. She couldn't let her nerves give her away. Too much was riding on this. Too many people were counting on her.
No one knew what the Houshaki was or where it came from. Some said that it was a creature bred to be used in the wars on the mainland. Others said that it was an instrument of the gods, to punish those who were unfit to walk among the living. All Kawashima knew was that it came down from the Grey Woods in the mountains one windy day as summer drew to a close, half a year ago. She watched, unable to move or yell a warning or even look away, as it crept across the fields, its long serpentine body rolling across the ground like water. She watched as it sprang forward, catching Jiro in its mighty jaws, dragging him screaming and crying back in the direction it had come.
Through the Grey Woods and up the mountainside it went, to its nest where she was right now. She regained her breath and wiped her eyes, not daring to look over the edge to the bone piles on the slope below. It wasn't that long ago when over a hundred men from all the surrounding farms and villages sharpened their swords and headed up the hill, to bring the beast's head back with them. Not one had been seen since, but for a long while, neither had the creature. When the Houshaki finally did reemerge, over a month later, its thick hide was covered with scars from its head to its tail. But it had grown much fatter. It was quite a bit slower, as well, but no less vicious, as it dragged fresh prey away again.
The Houshaki lay in the center of the nest on its side, eyes shut, its long belly heaving in and out with each tremendous breath it took. Kawashima approached its head, each step taking an eternity, until she was face to face with the beast, its breath blowing hot on her face. She raised her father's knife, her hand beginning to tremble again. Her lungs felt tight, and she knew that she would have to strike before her vision was lost to her own tears again.
She brought the knife down swiftly, across the monster's throat. Instantly, its sickly yellow nightmare eyes flashed open. It snapped its jaws shut around her in a heartbeat, shaking her violently as it rose to its feet. She had no time to cry, to scream, before it threw her from the nest, down the cliff and into the bone piles.
Kawashima looked up from the ground, her eyes now clouded with tears and blood, as the Houshaki leapt to the edge. A river of crimson poured from its neck, through the nest and down the cliffside, as it gurgled a deep muffled growl. The beast sprang from its perch, down to her, but stumbled. It fell to its shoulder and slid, nearly on top of her, then tried to get up. Its legs trembled, then gave way, the Houshaki collapsing to the ground with one final whimper.
Blood welled up from deep inside her, spouting through her mouth, as Kawashima raised one hand, slowly, to her face, wiping her eyes. She looked up to the clear midnight sky above, to the stars which shone so beautifully from the darkness. She let her gaze move slowly from one point of light to another, until the stars dimmed and she saw nothing more.