Umibozu!

'Umibozu!' yelled Lady Masako over the roar of the wind and the rain that lashed the sekibune. Around her, all the women were prostrate on the decks, but she stood tall, as befitted a Tokugawa such as she.
It loomed over the rocking ship, accompanied by storm, a giant featureless man-shadow some fifty shaku tall, rising waist-high from the crashing waves. The bottomless barrel that Ichi and the rest had offered to confuse it had been hurled upon the deck, splintering into pieces.
'Do you take me for a fool?' it boomed. The voice was like thunder. 'My intellect is enhanced by magic. No such sailor-tricks will save you, men.'
'Enhanced by whom?' shouted Masako.
'By those who sent me to destroy you.'
'Who sent you, spirit?'
'I do not know, or care.' Huge shadow hands as large as oxcarts clamped themselves to the gunwale and the ship pitched sideways. The women screamed. Water sloshed onto the deck. But Masako gripped the mast, defiant, and yelled up at the massive cloud-grey head.
'We are not men! You have no authority over us!' Rage made Masako brave- no man had ever beaten her, mortal or supernatural, and she was damned if one would today.
'What are you, then?'
'We are women.'
'Women?' The boat was released from the spirit's grip, and the hull slammed back into the waves, sending all but Masako slithering across the deck. 'I know not of women. I only know of men, living or dead. Are you a species?'
'We are the homo superior!' cried Masako, remembering her Latin. 'Have you ever seen the likes of us?'
'Never,' intoned the great shade, and then, without ceremony, it vanished from the thrashing ocean. Masako stepped back, amazed.
A voice that sounded not unlike the beating of waves against rocky cliffs spoke from behind her. She turned and the thing was on the deck- reduced to the size of a man, but a denser, congealed darkness. Inside its form flickered shards of light, like rain. 'You are different,' it said. 'In your bodies. In your minds. Why have I never seen sailors like you before?'
Masako strode boldly to meet the mighty sea-wraith. 'Women don't go to sea. It is a dangerous place, unnavigable, full of wild weather and spirits such as yourself. Why should we risk our necks when there are foolish men to take risks on our behalf?'
'But you are here now,' it said with a sweep of its great arm, and the wind wailed.
'We are adventurers. The men are forever telling their ocean tales, and we wanted to ascertain whether they were true. But we are not afraid.'
The Umibozu considered this for a moment. 'What are you women, then? Are you Gods to these men-sailors, or mortals?'
'We are creators,' said Masako. 'All men emerge from us.' For a moment she thought of her own poor child, miscarried on the heaving planks only a year ago, sluiced away with the rest of the effluence, and her steady heart wavered. 'But we suffer for our creation, Umibozo. Oh, we suffer the barbs of injustice, the pains of life, more than men. And from our endurance comes our strength.'
Kamehine glanced up from her lowly position, groveling at Masako's feet. 'Tell it of our misery, Lady. Make it pity us. Maybe then it will spare us.'
'Pity?' laughed Masako. 'I do not want its pity, little poison-mouth. I want the Umibozo to fear us!'
The spirit mimicked her laugh, adding to it the echoing resonance of a thousand sea-caves. 'Why should I fear you, woman? Why should I not just smash this boat and drown you all, consume your souls, as I have done so many others?'
'You have seen sailors perish in their dozens, as you say, ayakashi,' said Masako. 'But tell me- who do those men-sailors call out to in their final moments? Who do they implore as saltwater fills their gurgling lungs?'
'Many call Mother, it is true,' rumbled the Umibozu doubtfully. 'I have pondered on this. Is Mother woman?'
'Yes. But the men do not entreat their mothers for comfort, or for salvation.' She paused to savor her next words. 'They call on them to enact revenge.'
The Umibozu said nothing for a few moments. It shrank a little, and the glitter of rain inside it darkened.
'You are brave, and strong. But your talk will not save you. Make peace with your gods, as now you drown.'
The women on the deck wailed lamentably.
'Stop!' bellowed Masako, and the demon, half-turning, paused. 'They call you the sea-monk. It is said that you arise from the spirits of dead priests, virgins, thrown into the sea by angry villagers, and your spirit is seasoned with the souls of frightened sailors. Your consistency is that of feeble men. You cannot devour the souls of mighty women like us; we shall give you such indigestion!'
The Umibozu didn't move.
'Your man-soul will become woman-soul when you swallow us. Or, more probably, the souls of we women, ashamed to become one with the sea-monk, will combine into our own Umibozu. Imagine that. A woman Umibozu, full of hate, charged with revenge, to share the sea with you. And we will hunt you down, propelled by our anger and our patient suffering, and put you through our agonies as we have other men, endless and exquisite, till you curse the day you turned the seas upon us.'
A grey flicker seemed to coalesce on the Umibozu's brow.
'Consider this very carefully,' said Masako. 'For your next actions will determine how you spend eternity.'
And then it was gone. In seconds, the lowering clouds and the stormy winds that surrounded the ship had lifted, and blue peaceful waters stretched around them as far as Masako could see.
The cowering women stood and gazed around them wonderingly. Kamehine helped old Ichi to her feet.
'It will go after the Emperor's ship now,' said Ichi. 'And drown it. I can see its murky thoughts. You put such doubt in its mind, such doubt as it has never known.'
Kamehine rushed to her side. 'You were wonderful, Masako-San. Such command. Such swiftness of thought.' She bowed her head. 'It was just like listening to a man.'
Masako might have struck Kamehine's head off with her bright sword at that moment, but instead she embraced her as a mother would a child.
'Oh, dear Kamehine,' she murmured, 'Silly girl. Have you learned nothing at all?'