Once Every Thousand Years...

Every millennium, one age ends and another age dawns...and whoever holds the Scroll of a Thousand Prayers holds the power to call the great Kami Dragon from the sea and ask for any one wish. The time is near...and the missing pieces of the scroll will be sought throughout the land of Iwagoto. The holder of the first piece is a humble, unknown peasant girl with a dangerous secret.

Demons have burned the temple Yumeko was raised in to the ground, killing everyone within, including the master who trained her to both use and hide her kitsune shapeshifting powers. Yumeko escapes with the temple’s greatest treasure—one part of the ancient scroll. Fate thrusts her into the path of a mysterious samurai, Kage Tatsumi of the Shadow Clan. Yumeko knows he seeks what she has...and is under orders to kill anything and anyone who stands between him and the scroll.

A WISH WILL BE GRANTED AND A NEW AGE WILL DAWN.

Also by Julie Kagawa:

The Talon Saga

Talon

Rogue

Soldier

Legion

Inferno

Blood of Eden series

The Immortal Rules

The Eternity Cure

The Forever Song

The Iron Fey series

The Iron King

The Iron Daughter

The Iron Queen

The Iron Knight

The Lost Prince

The Iron Traitor

The Iron Warrior

Copyright

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2018

Copyright © Julie Kagawa 2018

Julie Kagawa asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © October 2018 ISBN: 9781474083164

Version: 2018-09-11

To Misa. Thank you for everything, sensei.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

PART 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

PART 2

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

PART 3

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Epilogue

Glossary

Extract

About the Publisher

PART 1

1

Beginnings and Endings

It was raining the day Suki came to the Palace of the Sun, and it was raining the night that she died.

“You’re the new maid, are you?” a woman with a narrow, bony face demanded, looking her up and down. Suki shivered, feeling cold rainwater sliding down her back, dripping from her hair to spatter the fine wood floor. The head housekeeper sniffed. “Well, you’re no beauty, that’s for sure. But, no matter—Lady Satomi’s last maid was pretty as a butterfly, with half the wit.” She leaned closer, narrowing her eyes. “Tell me, girl. They said you were running your father’s shop before you came here. Do you have an intelligent head on your shoulders? Or is it as full of air as the last girl’s?”

Suki chewed her lip and looked at the floor. She had been helping to run her father’s shop within the city for the better part of a year. The only child of a celebrated flute maker, she was often responsible for dealing with the customers when her father was at work, too engrossed in his task to eat or talk to anyone until his latest piece was done. Suki could read and do numbers as well as any boy, but being a girl, she was not allowed to inherit her father’s business or learn his craft. Mura Akihito was still strong, but he was getting old, his once nimble fingers stiffening with age and hard use. Rather than marry Suki off, her father had used his meager influence to get her a job in the Imperial Palace, so she would be well taken care of when he passed away. Suki missed home, and she desperately wondered if her father was all right without her, but she knew this was what he wanted. “I don’t know, ma’am,” she whispered.

“Hmph. Well, we’ll see soon enough. But I would think of something better to say to Lady Satomi. Otherwise your stay will be even shorter than your predecessor’s. Now,” she continued, “clean yourself up, then go to the kitchen and fetch Lady Satomi’s tea. The cook will tell you where to take it.”

A few minutes later, Suki walked down the veranda, carrying a full tea tray and trying to remember the directions she’d been given. The emperor’s Palace of the Sun was a miniature city in itself; the main palace, where the emperor and his family lived, loomed over everything, but a labyrinth of walls, structures and fortifications lay between the keep and the inner wall, all designed to protect the emperor and confuse an invading army. Nobles, courtiers and samurai paraded to and fro down the walkways, dressed in robes of brilliant color and design: white silk with delicate sakura petals, or a vivid red with golden chrysanthemum blooms. None of the nobles she passed spared her a second glance. Only the most influential families resided this close to the emperor; the closer you lived to the main keep of the palace, the more important you were.

Suki wandered down the maze of verandas, the knots in her stomach growing tighter as she searched in vain for the right quarters. Everything looked the same. Gray-roofed buildings with bamboo and paper walls, and wooden verandas between them so the nobles wouldn’t sully their clothes in the dirt and dew. Blue-tiled turrets towered over her in regal splendor, and dozens of different songbirds trilled from the branches of the perfectly groomed trees, but the tightness in Suki’s chest and the churning of her insides made it impossible to appreciate any of it.

A high, clear note cut through the air, rising above the rooftops, making her freeze in her tracks. It wasn’t a bird, though a thrush perched in a nearby bush warbled loudly in reply. It was a sound Suki knew instantly, had memorized each and every note. How many times had she heard it, drifting up from her father’s workshop? The sweet, haunting melody of a flute.

Mesmerized, she followed the sound, momentarily forgetting her duties and that her new mistress would almost certainly be very annoyed that her tea was so late. The song drew her forward, a keening, mournful melody, like saying goodbye or watching autumn fade. Suki could tell that whoever was playing the instrument was skilled indeed; so much emotion lay between the notes of the song, it was as if she was hearing someone’s soul.

So hypnotized was she by the sound of the flute, she forgot to look where she was going. Rounding a corner, Suki squeaked in dismay as a young noble in sky blue robes blocked her path, a bamboo flute held to his lips. The teapot rattled and the cups shook perilously as she swerved to avoid him, desperately trying not to spill the contents. The sound of the flute ceased as the noble, much to her amazement, turned and put out a hand to steady the tray before it toppled to the veranda.

“Careful there.” His voice was high and clear. “Don’t want to drop anything—that would be an awful mess. Are you all right?”

Suki stared at him. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen. No, not handsome, she decided. Beautiful. His broad shoulders filled the robe he wore, but his features were graceful and delicate, like a willow tree in the spring. Instead of a samurai’s topknot, his hair was long and straight, falling well past his shoulders, and was pure white, the color of mountain snow. Even more amazing, he was smiling at her—not the cold, amused smirk of most nobles and samurai, but a real smile that reached the mirthful crescents of his eyes.

“Please excuse me,” the man said, releasing the tray and taking a quick step back. His expression was calm, not irritated at all. “That was my fault, planting myself in the middle of the walk, not thinking anyone could be rushing around the corner with a tea tray. I hope I did not inconvenience you, miss...?”

Suki opened her mouth twice before anything came out. “Please forgive me, lord.” Her voice was a whisper. Nobles did not speak like this to peasants; even she knew that. “I am Suki, and I am only a maid. Please don’t trouble yourself with the likes of me.”

The noble chuckled. “It is no trouble, Suki-san,” he said. “I often forget where I am when I am playing.” He raised the flute, making her heart leap. “Please do not think any more of it. You may return to your duties.”

He stepped aside for her to pass, but Suki didn’t move, unable to tear her gaze from the instrument in his slender hand. It was made of polished wood, dark and rich and straighter than an arrow, with a distinctive band of gold around one end. She knew she shouldn’t speak to the noble, that he could order her flogged, imprisoned, even executed if he wished it, but words escaped her all the same. “You play magnificently, my lord,” she whispered. “Forgive me. I know it is not my place to say anything, but my father would be proud.”

He cocked his head, a flicker of surprise crossing his beautiful face. “Your father?” he asked, as understanding dawned in his eyes. “You are Mura Akihito’s daughter?”

“Hai.”

He smiled and gave her the barest of nods. “The song is only as beautiful as the instrument,” he told her. “When you see your father again, tell him that I am honored to possess such a masterpiece.”

Suki’s throat closed up, and her eyes grew hot and blurry. The noble politely turned away, feigning interest in a cherry blossom tree, giving her time to compose herself. “Ah, but perhaps you are lost?” he inquired after a moment, examining a chrysalis on one of the slender branches. Turning back, his slender brows rose, but Suki caught no derision in his stance or voice, only amusement, as one might have when speaking to a wandering cat. “The emperor’s palace can be dazzling indeed to the uninitiated. Whose quarters are you assigned to, Suki-san? Perhaps I can point you in the right direction.”

“L-Lady Satomi, my lord,” Suki stammered, truly stunned by his kindness. She knew she should bow, but she was terrified she would spill the tea. “Please forgive me, I have come to the palace only today, and everything is very confusing.”

A slight frown crossed the noble’s face, making Suki’s heart nearly stop in her chest, thinking she had offended him. “I see,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “Yet another maid, Satomi-san? How many does the emperor’s concubine need?”

Before Suki could wonder what that meant, he shook himself and smiled once more. “Well, fortune favors you, Suki-san. Lady Satomi’s residence isn’t far.” He raised a billowy sleeve, pointing an elegant finger down the walkway. “Go left around this building, then walk straight to the very end. It will be the last doorway on the right.”

“Daisuke-san!” A woman’s voice echoed down the veranda before Suki could even whisper her thanks, and the man turned his beautiful face away. Moments later, a trio of noblewomen in elegant green-and-gold robes sashayed around the building and gave him mock frowns as they hurried forward.

“There you are, Daisuke-san,” one of them huffed. “Where have you been? We are going to be late for Hanoe-san’s poetry recital. Oh,” she said, catching sight of Suki. “What is this? Daisuke-san, don’t tell me you were here all this time, talking to a maid.”

“And why not?” Daisuke’s tone was wry. “A maid’s conversation can be as interesting as any noblewoman’s.”

The three women giggled as if that were the funniest thing they had ever heard. Suki didn’t see what was so amusing. “Oh, Taiyo Daisuke, you say the most wicked things,” one of them chided from behind a white fan painted with cherry blossoms. “Come, now. We really must go. You,” she said, directing her gaze to Suki, “get back to your duties. Why are you just standing there gaping? Shoo!”

As quickly as she could without spilling the tea, Suki hurried away. But her heart still pounded, and for some reason she couldn’t catch her breath. Taiyo. Taiyo was the name of the imperial family. Daisuke-sama was of the Sun Clan, one of the most powerful families in Iwagoto, the blood of the emperor himself. The funny feeling in her stomach intensified, and her thoughts became a swarm of moths, fluttering around the dazzling memory of his smile and the melody from her father’s flute.

Somehow, she found her way to the correct door, at the very end of the veranda, looking over the magnificent gardens of the palace. The shoji panel was open, and Suki could smell the smoky hint of burning incense wafting from the darkened interior. Creeping inside the room, she peered around for her new mistress but saw no one. Despite the nobles’ unified preference for simplicity, this apartment was lavishly cluttered. Ornamental screens turned the room into a small maze, and tatami mats lined the entire floor, thick and soft beneath her feet. Paper was everywhere; origami sheets of every style and texture lay in piles around the apartment. Folded paper birds peered at her from atop every flat surface, dominating the room. Suki brushed a flock of origami cranes from the table so that she could set the tea down.

“Mai-chan?” A gossamer voice drifted out of the adjoining room, and the sound of silk rustled over the floor. “Is that you? Where have you been? I was getting worried that you—oh.”

A woman appeared in the doorway, and for a moment, they stared at one another, Suki’s mouth hanging open in amazement.

If Taiyo Daisuke was the most handsome man she had ever met, this was the most elegantly beautiful woman in the whole palace. Her billowing robes were red with silver, gold and green butterflies swarming the front. Shimmering black hair was beautifully styled atop her head, pierced with red-and-gold chopsticks and ivory combs. Dark eyes in a flawless porcelain face regarded Suki curiously.

“Hello,” the woman said, and Suki quickly closed her mouth. “May I inquire as to who you are?”

“I... I’m Suki,” the girl stammered. “I’m your new maid.”

“I see.” The woman’s lips curved in a faint smile. Suki was sure that if her teeth showed, they would light up the room. “Come here, if you would, little Suki-chan. Please don’t step on anything.”

Suki obeyed, placing her feet carefully to avoid squashing any paper creatures, and stood before Lady Satomi.

The woman struck her across the face with her open palm.

Pain exploded behind her eye, and she collapsed to the floor, too stunned to even gasp. Blinking back tears, she put her hand to her cheek and gazed blankly up at Lady Satomi, who loomed over her, smiling.

“Do you know why I did that, little Suki-chan?” she asked, and now she did show her teeth. They reminded Suki of a grinning skull.

“N-no, my lady,” she murmured, as her numb cheek started to burn.

“Because I called for Mai-chan, not you,” the lady replied in a relentlessly cheerful voice. “You might be a stupid country girl, Suki-chan, but that does not excuse your complete ignorance. You must come only when called, is that understood?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Smile, Suki-chan,” Satomi suggested. “If you smile, perhaps I can forget you have the accent of a sweaty country barbarian and the face of an ox. It will be dreadfully difficult not to loathe you on sight, but I will do my best. Isn’t that generous of me, Suki-chan?”

Suki, not knowing what to say to this, kept her mouth shut and thought of Daisuke-sama.

“Isn’t that generous of me, Suki-chan?” Satomi repeated, an edge to her voice now.

Suki swallowed hard. “Hai, Lady Satomi.”

Satomi sighed. “You’ve smashed my creations.” She pouted, and Suki glanced down at the origami creatures that had been crushed by her body. The lady sniffed and turned away. “I shall be very angry if you do not replace them. There is a quaint little shop in the Wind district that sells the most delicate lavender sheets. If you run, you should catch them before they close.”

Suki gazed through an open screen at the storm clouds roiling above the palace. Thunder rumbled as silver-blue strands chased each other through the sky. “Yes, Lady Satomi.”

* * *

The passing days made Suki long for her father’s shop, for the quiet comfort of sweeping, stitching torn clothing and cooking meals three times a day. For the comforting smell of sawdust and wood shavings, and for the customers who barely gave her a second glance, concerned only with her father and his work. She’d thought it would be easy enough to be the maid to a great lady, to help her dress and run her errands and see to the mundane little tasks that were beneath the notice of the nobility. Perhaps that was how it should have been—certainly, the other maids did not seem to share her plight. Indeed, they seemed to go out of their way to avoid her, as if associating with Lady Satomi’s maid would attract the ire of her mistress. Suki couldn’t blame them.

Lady Satomi was a nightmare, a beautiful nightmare of silk, makeup and heady perfume. Nothing Suki did suited the woman. No matter how she scrubbed or cleaned, the laundry never met with Satomi’s satisfaction. The tea Suki brewed was too weak, too strong, too sweet, always too something. No amount of cleaning sufficed within Lady Satomi’s chambers—there was always a speck of dirt to be found, a tatami mat out of place, an origami creature in the wrong spot. And each failure brought a little smile from the lady and a shockingly powerful slap.

No one cared, of course. The other maids looked away from her bruises, and the guards did not look at her at all. Suki did not dare complain; not only was Lady Satomi a great and powerful lady, she was the favored concubine of the emperor himself. To speak poorly of her would be insulting Taiyo no Genjiro, the great Son of Heaven, and would result in a flogging, public humiliation, or worse.

The only thing that saved Suki from complete despair was the thought of running into Daisuke-sama again. He was a great noble, of course, far above her station, and would not care about the troubles of a lowly maid. But even catching a glimpse of him would be enough. She looked for him on the verandas and the paths to and from Lady Satomi’s chambers, but the beautiful noble was nowhere to be seen. Later, she learned through servant gossip that Taiyo Daisuke had left the Palace of the Sun not long after she arrived, heading off on one of his mysterious pilgrimages across the country. Perhaps, Suki thought, she would catch a glimpse of him when he returned. Perhaps she would hear her father’s flute again, and follow it until she found him on the verandas, his long white hair flowing behind him.

A ringing slap drew her from her daydream, knocking her to the floor. “Oh dear. You are such a clumsy girl.” Lady Satomi stood over her, resplendent in her stunning silk robes. “Get up, Suki-chan. I have a task for you.”

In her arms, the lady carried a coil of fine silken cord, bloodred in color. As Suki staggered to her feet, the rope was thrust into her arms. “You are such a feebleminded little thing, aren’t you? I despair of ever making a good maid out of you. But surely even you can take care of this one small task. Take this rope to the storehouse in the eastern gardens, the one past the lake. Surely you can do that much? And do stop crying, girl. What will people think of me, if my maid goes around weeping everywhere?”

* * *

Suki awoke to darkness with a throbbing in her skull. Her vision swam, and there was a weird coppery taste in the back of her throat. Overhead, thunder growled, and a sharp, ozone-scented wind blew into her face. The floor beneath her felt cold, and hard, stony edges were pressing uncomfortably into her stomach and cheek. Blinking, she tried pushing herself upright, but her arms would not respond. A moment later, she realized they were tied behind her back.

Ice flooded her veins. She rolled to her side and attempted to stand, but her knees and ankles were bound as well—with the same rope she’d brought to the storehouse, she realized—and a rag was stuffed into her mouth, tied with a strip of cloth. With a muffled shriek, she thrashed wildly, writhing on the stones. Pain shot up her arms as she scraped along the ground, cutting her skin on rock edges and leaving bits of flesh behind, but the ropes held firm. Panting, exhausted, she slumped against the stones in defeat, then raised her head to gaze at her surroundings.

She lay in the center of a courtyard, but not the pristine, elegant courtyard of the Sun Palace, with its swept white stones and trimmed bushes. This one was dark, rocky, ruined. The castle it was attached to was also dark and abandoned, looming over her like some great sullen beast, tattered banners flapping against the walls. Dead leaves and broken stones were scattered throughout the courtyard, and a samurai’s helmet, empty and rusting, lay a few feet from her. In the flickering light overhead, she could see the glint of eyes atop the walls—dozens of crows, watching her with their feathers spiked out against the wind.

“Hello, Suki-chan,” said an eerily cheerful voice somewhere behind her. “Did you finally wake up?”

Suki craned her head back. Lady Satomi stood a few paces away, her hair unbound and tossed by the wind, the sleeves of her red-and-black kimono fluttering like sails. Her eyes were hard, and her lips were curled in a tiny smile. Gasping, Suki flopped to a sitting position, wanting to cry for help, to ask what was happening. Was this some terrible punishment for disappointing her mistress, for not cleaning, fetching, or serving to her standards? She tried pleading with her eyes, hot tears leaking down her cheeks, but the woman only wrinkled her nose.

“Such a lazy girl, and so fragile. I cannot abide your constant weeping.” Lady Satomi sniffed and moved a few feet away, not looking at her anymore. “Well, be happy, Suki-chan. For today your misery will come to an end. Though it will mean I must acquire yet another maid—what is it with all these serving girls running away like mice? Ungrateful wretches. No sense of responsibility at all.” She gave a long-suffering sigh, then looked at the clouds as lightning flickered and the wind picked up. “Where is that oni?” she muttered. “After all the trouble I went through for suitable compensation, I shall be very cross if he does not arrive before the storm.”

Oni? Suki must’ve been hearing things. Oni were great and terrible demons that came from Jigoku, the realm of evil. There were countless stories of brave samurai slaying oni, sometimes armies of oni, but they were myths and legends. Oni were the creatures parents threatened wayward children with—don’t wander too close to the woods or an oni might get you. Listen to your elders, or an oni will reach up from beneath the floorboards and drag you down to Jigoku. Scary warnings for children and monstrous foes for legendary samurai, but not creatures that walked Ningen-kai, the mortal realm.

There was a blinding flash, a boom of thunder, and a great horned creature appeared at the edge of the courtyard.

Suki screamed. The gag muffled it, but she kept screaming until she was out of breath, gasping and choking into the cloth. She tried to flee and fell hard against the stones, striking her chin on the rock, but she barely felt the pain. Lady Satomi’s lips moved as she gave her a withering look, probably chastising her shrillness, but Suki’s mind couldn’t register anything but the huge demon, for it could only be a thing of nightmares, prowling forward into the torchlight. The monster that shouldn’t exist.

It was massive, standing a good fifteen feet overhead, and just as terrible and fearsome as the legends described. Its skin was a dark crimson, the color of blood, and a wild black mane tumbled down its back and shoulders. Sharp yellow tusks curled from its jaw, and its eyes glowed like hot coals as the demon lumbered forward, making the ground shake. The tiny part of Suki’s brain not frozen in terror recalled that, in the stories, oni dressed in loincloths made of great striped beasts, but this demon wore plates of lacquered armor; the red shoulder pads, thigh guards and bracers of the samurai when they rode into battle. True to the myths, however, it carried a giant, iron-studded club—a tetsubo—in one hand, swinging it to a shoulder as if it weighed no more than an ink stick.

“There you are, Yaburama.” Lady Satomi lifted her chin as the oni stopped in front of her. “I am aware that time in Jigoku doesn’t exist, and it is said that one day is akin to eight hundred years in the mortal realm, but punctuality is a wonderful attribute, something we can all aspire to.”

The oni grunted, a deep, guttural sound emerging between his fangs. “Do not lecture me, human,” it rumbled, its terrible voice making the air shiver. “Calling on Jigoku takes time, especially if you wish to summon an army.”

Behind the demon, spreading around him like a colony of ants, a horde of smaller monsters appeared. Standing only a few inches above the knee, their skin different shades of blue, red and green, they looked like tiny oni themselves, except for their huge flared ears and maniacal grins. They spotted Suki and began edging forward, cackling and licking their pointed teeth. She shrieked into the gag and tried wiggling away, but got no farther than a landed fish.

The oni growled a warning, deep as distant thunder, and the horde skittered back. “Is that mine?” the demon asked, glowing crimson gaze falling on Suki. “It looks tasty.” He took a step toward her, and she nearly fainted on the spot.

“Patience, Yaburama.” Lady Satomi held out a hand, stopping him. He narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth slightly, but the woman didn’t seem disturbed. “You can have your payment in a moment,” she went on. “I just want to make certain you know why you were summoned. That you know what you must do.”

“How could I not,” the oni replied, sounding impatient. “The Dragon is rising. The Harbinger of Change approaches. Another thousand years have passed in this realm of horrible light and sun, and the night of the wish is nearly upon us. There is only one reason a mortal would summon me into Ningen-kai at this time.” A look of amused contempt crossed his brutish face. “I will get you the scroll, human. Or a piece of it, now that it has been scattered to the four winds.” The burning red gaze slid back to Suki, and he smiled slowly, showing fangs. “I will do so, after I collect my payment.”

“Good.” Lady Satomi stepped back, as the first drops of rain began to fall. “I am counting on you, Yaburama. I am sure there are others who are scrambling to find all the pieces of the Dragon scroll. You know what to do if you meet them. Well...” She opened a pink parasol and swung it over her head. “I leave it to you. Enjoy.”

As sheets of water began creeping across the courtyard, Lady Satomi turned and began walking away. Suki screamed into the gag and threw herself after her mistress crying and begging, praying to the kami and anyone else who would hear. Please, she thought desperately. Please, I cannot die like this. Not like this.

Lady Satomi paused and glanced back at her with a smile. “Oh, don’t be sad, little Suki-chan,” she said. “This is your proudest moment. You will be the catalyst to usher in a whole new era. This empire, the whole world, will change, because of your sacrifice today. See?” The lady tilted her head, observing her as if she were a whimpering puppy. “You’ve actually become useful. Surely that is enough for someone like you.”

Behind Suki, the ground trembled, and a huge claw closed on her legs, curved talons sinking into her skin. She screamed and thrashed, yanking at the ropes, trying to writhe out of the demon’s grip, but there was no escape. Lady Satomi sniffed, turned and continued on, her parasol bobbing through the rain, as Suki was pulled toward the oni, the minor demons shrieking and dancing around her.

Help me. Someone, please, help me! Daisuke-sama... Abruptly, her thoughts went to the noble, to his handsome face and gentle smile, though she knew he would not be coming. No one was coming, because no one cared about the death of a lowly servant girl. Father, Suki thought in numb despair, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you alone.

Deep inside, anger flickered, momentarily snuffing the fear. It was terribly unfair, being killed by a demon before she could do anything. She was only a servant, but she had hoped to marry a good man, raise a family, leave something behind that mattered. I’m not ready, Suki thought in desperation. I’m not ready to go. Please, not yet.

Clawed fingers closed around her neck, and she was lifted up to face the oni’s terrible, hungry smile. Its hot breath, smelling of smoke and rotten meat, blasted her face as the demon opened its jaws. Mercifully, the gods decided to intervene at that moment, and Suki finally fainted in terror, her consciousness leaving her body the moment before it was torn in half.

The scent of blood misted into the air, and the demons howled in glee. From Suki’s mangled body, unseen by the horde and invisible to normal eyes, a small sphere of light rose slowly into the air. It hovered over the grisly scene, seeming to watch as the minor demons squabbled over scraps, Yaburama’s booming roar rising into the night as he swatted them away. For a moment, it seemed torn between flying into the clouds and remaining where it was. Drifting aimlessly higher, it paused at a flash of color that gleamed through the rain, a pink parasol heading toward the doors of the castle. The sphere’s blue-white glow flared into an angry red.

Zipping from the sky, the orb of light flew soundlessly over the head of the oni, dropped lower to the ground and slipped through the door to the castle just before it creaked shut, leaving the oni, the demons and the torn, murdered body of a servant girl behind.

2

The Fox in the Temple

“Yumeko!”

The shout echoed over the garden, booming and furious, making me wince. I’d been sitting quietly by the pond, tossing crumbs to the fat red-and-white fish that swarmed below the surface, when the familiar sound of my name bellowed in anger rang from the direction of the temple. Quickly, I ducked behind the large stone lantern at the edge of the water, just as Denga stalked around the opposite bank, his face like a thundercloud.

“Yumeko!” the monk shouted again as I pressed into the rough, mossy stone. I could picture his normally stern, placid face turning as red as the temple pillars, the flush creeping all the way up his bald forehead. I’d seen it too many times to count. His braided ponytail and orange robes were no doubt flapping as he spun, searching the edges of the pond, scanning the bamboo patches surrounding the garden. “I know you’re here somewhere!” he raged. “Putting salt in the teapot...again! Do you think Nitoru likes having tea spat right in his face?” I bit my lip to stifle the laughter and pressed against the statue, trying to be silent. “Wretched demon girl!” Denga seethed, as the sound of his footsteps turned from the pond and headed farther into the garden. “I know you’re laughing your fool head off now. When I find you, you’ll be sweeping the floors until the hour of the Rat!”

His voice drifted away. I peeked around the stone to watch Denga continue down the path into the bamboo, until he was lost from sight.

Blowing out a breath, I leaned against the lantern’s weathered body, feeling triumphant. Well, that was entertaining. Denga-san is always so uptight; he really needs to try out new expressions or his face will crack from the strain. I grinned, imagining the look on poor Nitoru’s face when the other monk discovered what was in his teacup. Unfortunately, Nitoru had the same sense of humor Denga did, which was none at all. Definitely time to make myself scarce. I’ll steal a book from the library and go hide under the desk. Oh, wait, but Denga already knows that spot. Bad idea. I cringed at the thought of all the long wooden verandas that would need a thorough sweeping if I was found. Maybe it’s a good day to not be here. At least until this evening. I wonder what the monkey family in the forest is doing today?

Excitement fluttered. A dozen or so yellow monkeys lived within the branches of an ancient cedar that rose above all other trees in the forest. On clear days, if one climbed to the very top, one could see the whole world, from the tiny farming village at the base of the mountains all the way to the distant horizon. Whenever I found myself at the top of that tree, swaying with the monkeys and the branches, I would gaze over the multicolored carpet stretching away before me and wonder if today would be the day I’d be brave enough to see what lay beyond the skyline.

I never was, and this afternoon would be no different. But at least I wouldn’t be here, waiting for an angry Denga-san to shove a broom into my hands and tell me to sweep every flat surface in the temple. Including the yard.

Drawing back from the statue, I turned around...and came face-to-face with Master Isao.

I yelped, jerking back and hitting the stone lantern, which was bigger and heavier than I and obstinately refused to budge. The ancient, white-bearded monk smiled serenely under his wide-brimmed straw hat.

“Going somewhere, Yumeko-chan?”

“Um...” I stammered, rubbing the back of my head. Master Isao wasn’t a large man; thin and spindly, he stood a head shorter than me when he was wearing his wooden geta clogs. But no one in the temple was more respected, and no one had such control over his ki as Master Isao. I’d seen him chop a tree in half with a flick of his hand, and punch a giant boulder into rubble. He was the undisputed master of the Silent Winds temple, able to quiet a room of strong-willed ki practitioners just by appearing. Though he never raised his voice or appeared angry; the harshest expression I’d ever seen him make was a mild frown, and that had been terrifying.

“Ano...” I stammered again, as his bushy eyebrows rose in patient amusement. No use in lying, Master Isao always knew everything about everything. “I was...going to visit the monkey family in the forest, Master Isao,” I confessed, figuring that was the least of my crimes. I wasn’t exactly forbidden to leave the temple grounds, but the monks certainly didn’t like it when I did. The amount of chores, training and duties they imposed on me when I was awake indicated that they tried to keep me busy whenever possible. The only free time I could get was usually stolen, like today.

Master Isao only smiled. “Ah. Monkeys. Well, I am afraid your friends will have to wait a bit, Yumeko-chan,” he said, not sounding angry or surprised at all. “I must borrow your time for a moment. Please, follow me.”

He turned and started around the pond, heading toward the temple. I dusted off my sleeves and fell into step behind him, down the bamboo trail dappled by sun and green shadows, past the singing stones where the breeze hummed playfully through the holes worn into the rocks, and over the red arched bridge that spanned the stream. A drab brown bird flitted to the branches of a juniper tree, puffed out its chest and filled the air with the beautiful, warbling song of a nightingale. I whistled back at him, and he gave me an indignant look before darting into the leaves.

The trees opened up, the foliage falling away, as we walked past the tiny rock garden with its meticulously raked sand, and up the steps of the temple. As we entered the dim, cool hall, I spotted Nitoru glaring at me across the room, and dared a cheeky wave, knowing he would not approach while I was with Master Isao. I’d probably be sweeping the steps until next winter, but the look on the monk’s face was worth it.

Master Isao led me through several narrow hallways, passing individual rooms on either side, until he slid back a door panel and motioned me through. I stepped into a familiar room, small and neat, empty but for a large standing mirror on the opposite wall and a hanging wall scroll beside it. The scroll depicted a massive dragon soaring over a raging sea, and a tiny boat tossed by the waves beneath it.

I masked a sigh. I’d been in this room a few times before, and the ritual that followed was always the same. Knowing what Master Isao wanted, I walked lightly across the tatami mats and knelt in front of the mirror, the only one in the entire temple. Master Isao followed and settled himself beside it facing me, his hands in his lap. For a moment, he sat there, eyes serene, though it felt like his gaze passed right through me to the wall behind my head.

“What do you see?” he asked, as he always did.

I looked at the mirror. My reflection gazed back at me, a slight girl of sixteen winters, straight black hair falling, unbound, to the center of her back. She wore straw sandals, a white sash and a short crimson kimono that was tattered in places, especially the long, billowy sleeves. Her hands were grubby from kneeling at the pond talking to the fish, and dirt stained her knees and face. At first glance, she looked like a ragged but perfectly normal peasant girl, perhaps a fisherman’s or farmer’s waif, kneeling on the floor of the temple.

If you didn’t happen to notice the bushy orange tail, peeking out from behind her robes. And the large, triangular, black-tipped ears poking up from the top of her skull. And the glowing golden eyes that very clearly marked her as not normal, not human at all.

“I see myself, Master Isao,” I said, wondering if, this time, it was the right answer. “In my true form. Without illusion or barrier. I see a kitsune.”

Kitsune. Fox. Or half kitsune, more accurately. Wild kitsune, the foxes that roamed the hidden places of Iwagoto, were masters of illusion magic and shapeshifting. While it was true that some kitsune chose to live as normal wild animals, all foxes possessed magic. Kitsune were yokai, creatures of the supernatural. One of their favorite tricks was to take human form—usually in the guise of a beautiful woman—and lure men astray. To the naked eye, I was an ordinary human girl; no tail, pointed ears or yellow eyes. Only in front of mirrors and reflective surfaces was my true nature revealed. Lacquered tables, still water, even the edge of a blade. I had to be very careful where I stood and what I was around, lest an acute observer notice the reflection on the surface did not quite match the girl in front of it.

Or so the monks warned me. They all knew what I was, and made certain to remind me of it often. Half-blood, demon child, fox girl: phrases that were part of my everyday life. Not that any of the monks were cruel or heartless, just practical. I was kitsune, something not quite human, and they saw no reason to pretend otherwise.

I glanced at Master Isao, wondering if he would tell me anything different this time, any hint of what he really wanted me to say. We’d played the what do you see? game numerous times in the past, and none of my answers—be they human, demon, fox or fish—seemed to satisfy him, because I’d always find myself right back here, staring at the kitsune in the mirror.

“How are your lessons progressing?” Master Isao went on, giving no indication that he’d heard my answer, or if it was the right one. I very seriously doubted it.

“Fine, Master Isao.”

“Show me.”

I hesitated, casting about for a suitable target. There weren’t many to be found. The mirror, perhaps. Or the wall scroll. But I had already used both in the past, and Master Isao wouldn’t be impressed with the same tricks over and over again. This, too, was a game we’d played often.

I spotted a yellow maple leaf, caught on the end of my sleeve, and grinned.

Picking it up, I twirled it between fingers and thumb, then carefully put it on my head. Kitsune magic needed an anchor, something of the natural world, to build an illusion around. There were stories of very old, very powerful kitsune who could weave illusions out of thin air, but I needed something to attach the magic to. Focal point in place, I half closed my eyes and called on my powers.

Since before I could remember, magic had come naturally to me, a gift from the yokai side of the family, I was told. Even when I was a toddler, I had shown impressive talent for it, floating little balls of kitsune-bi, the heatless, blue-white foxfire, through the halls of the temple. As I’d gotten older and my magic had grown, a few of the monks thought Master Isao should put a binding on me, sealing away my power so I wouldn’t hurt anyone, or myself. Wild kitsune were notorious troublemakers. They weren’t inherently malicious, but their “pranks” could range from merely annoying—stealing food or hiding small items—to truly dangerous: spooking a horse on a narrow mountain path, or leading someone deep into a marsh or forest, never to be seen again. Better that I didn’t have that temptation, at least according to Denga and a few others. But the master of the Silent Winds temple had adamantly refused. Fox magic was part of a kitsune’s life, he said, something as natural as sleeping or breathing. To deny it would do more harm than good.

Instead, I practiced my magic every day with a monk called Satoshi, in the hopes that I would learn to control my fox-given talent, and not the other way around. The monks had been skeptical at first, but I knew Master Isao trusted that I would not use my powers for mischief, so I tried not to give in to temptation. Even though some days it was very hard not to disguise the cat as a teapot, or to make a closed door look open, or to turn a log invisible in front of the steps. Fox magic was nothing but illusion and trickery, Denga-san had seethed on more than one occasion, usually on the tail end of a prank. Nothing useful could ever come of it.

That might be true, I thought, as the heat of the fox magic rose up inside me. But it certainly is a lot of fun.

A ripple went through me, like my body was made of water that someone had just dropped a pebble into, and a puff of white smoke engulfed me from the ground up. As the tendrils of smoke dissipated, I opened my eyes and smiled at the image in the mirror. Master Isao stared back at me in the reflection, a perfect replica of the man sitting beside the mirror, if you didn’t count the rather smug grin on his weathered face. And the white-tipped tail behind him.

The real Master Isao chuckled and shook his head. “Is this what you and Satoshi have been practicing?” he asked. “I shudder to imagine the day ‘I’ suggest Denga-san should go and catch a monkey.”

“Ooh, do you think he would? That would be hilarious. Um, not that I would ever do something like that, of course.” Reaching up, I plucked the maple leaf from my head, and the illusion frayed apart, fox magic scattering to the wind, until I was just me once more. Twirling the leaf in my fingers, I wondered how much trouble I’d be in if I did disguise myself as Master Isao and told Denga to go jump in the pond. Knowing the monk’s fanatical devotion to his master, he would do it without question. And then he’d probably kill me.

“Sixteen years,” Master Isao remarked in a soft voice. I blinked at him. That was new. Normally by this time, our conversation would be over and he’d be instructing me to return to my duties. “Sixteen years to the day that you have been with us,” he went on, almost wistfully. “Since we found you outside the gate in a fish basket, with nothing but a tattered robe and a note pinned to the cloth.” Forgive me, but I must leave this child in your care, the letter said. Do not judge her harshly, she cannot help what she is, and the road I walk is no place for innocence. Her name is Yumeko, child of dreams. Raise her well, and may the Great Dragon guide your steps, and hers.

I nodded politely, having heard this story dozens of times. I’d never known my father or my mother, and hadn’t given either of them much thought. They weren’t a part of my life, and I saw no point in worrying about things I could not change.

Though there was one very hazy memory, from when I was just a toddler, that continued to haunt my dreams. I’d been wandering the woods outside the temple that day, hiding from the monks and chasing squirrels, when I’d felt eyes on me from behind. I’d turned and seen a white fox staring at me from atop a fallen log, yellow eyes glowing in the shadows. We’d watched each other for a long moment, child and kitsune, and even though I was very young, I’d felt a kinship with this creature, a sense of longing that I didn’t understand. But when I’d taken a step toward it, the fox had disappeared. I’d never glimpsed it again.

“Sixteen years,” Master Isao continued, unaware of my thoughts. “And in that time, we have taught you our ways, steered you down what we hoped was the right path, trained you to seek the balance between human and kitsune. You have always known what you are—we have never hidden the truth. I have witnessed both the fox’s cunning and human compassion within you. I have seen callousness and kindness in equal measure, and I know you are balanced on a very thin edge right now, one of yokai and human. Whatever you choose, whatever path you wish to take, even if you attempt to traverse them both, you must decide for yourself, soon. It is almost time.”

He didn’t give any explanation of what he meant. He didn’t ask me if I understood. Maybe he knew that half the time I could never untangle his riddles, and the other half I really wasn’t listening. But I nodded and smiled, like I knew what he was getting at, and said, “Yes, Master Isao. I understand.”

He sighed and shook his head. “You have no idea what I’m babbling on about, child,” he stated, making me wince. “But that is all right. It is not the reason I brought you here today.” He looked away, his gaze going distant, that shadow falling over his eyes once more. “You are nearly grown, and the world outside is changing. It is time you knew our true purpose, what the Silent Winds temple truly protects.”

I blinked and, in the mirror, the kitsune’s ears twitched forward. “What we...protect?” I asked. “I didn’t know we protected anything.”

“Of course not,” Master Isao agreed. “No one ever told you. It is our greatest secret. But it is one you must know. The Dragon is rising, and another age comes to an end.”

* * *

“A very long time ago,” Master Isao began in the lyrical tones of a master storyteller, “there was a mortal. A young lord who commanded a great army and had servants that outnumbered the grains of rice in the field. His name has been lost to legend, but it is said he was an arrogant, foolish human who wished to become an immortal kami—a god. To this end, he assembled his greatest warriors and ordered them to bring him the Fushi no Tama, a jewel that was said to grant immortality to any who possessed it. Unfortunately, the jewel of immortality resided in the forehead of the Great Dragon that lived under the sea. But the lord coveted immortality, and told his warriors to retrieve Fushi no Tama by whatever means possible.

“His retainers, a little more sensible then their master, pretended to set off on this quest at once, and so sure of their success was the lord that he adorned his rooms with gold and silver, and draped silken cloth over the roof of his house, as was befitting a god.

“Several months passed with no word, and the young lord, growing impatient, journeyed to the sacred cliffs of Ryugake, where it was said the Dragon lived beneath the waves. As it turned out, not one of his warriors had taken a boat to search for the Dragon but had fled the province at first opportunity. Angry at this news, the lord threw caution to the winds, hired a helmsman and a ship, and embarked on the quest himself.

“As soon as the unfortunate ship reached deep ocean, a fierce storm blew in and the sea turned on the lord and his crew like an enraged beast. To make matters worse, the lord was struck with a terrible sickness and lay close to death while the sea raged and howled around them. As the storm grew in ferocity, and the ship itself threatened to break apart, the helmsman cried out that surely the gods were angry with them, and that the lord should offer a prayer to pacify the Great Kami of the deep.

“The lord, finally realizing his mistake, was ashamed and horrified at what he had attempted to do. Falling to his face, he prayed no less than a thousand times, repenting of his folly to slay the Dragon, vowing that he would challenge the Ruler of the Tides no more.

“Afterward, some legends claim that the lord returned to his homeland, and that nothing happened except the crows stole the fine silk cloth from his roof to line their nests. However, one legend goes on to say that, after the lord finished his thousandth prayer, the seas boiled and a mighty Dragon rose from the ocean depths. He was thrice the length of the ship, his eyes burned like torches in the night and a shining pearl was embedded in the center of his forehead.

“The lord was very frightened, and rightly so, for the Dragon looked most displeased. He fell facedown and begged the mighty serpent to have mercy on him. The Dragon then presented the lord with a choice. He would grant the mortal one wish, anything he desired—riches, immortal life, power over death itself—or he would leave him his soul. The lord chose to keep his soul, and returned home a wiser man.

“Now, every thousand years—one year for each prayer the lord uttered—the Dragon will rise again to the mortal who summons him. If the mortal’s soul is pure, if his intentions are just and his heart is honorable, the Dragon will grant him his heart’s desire. However, if the soul is found wanting, the Dragon rips it from the body and takes it as forfeit for the arrogance of the mortal who sought to become a god, so long ago.”

* * *

Silence fell after Master Isao finished his tale. I sat there, thinking it was an intriguing story, but what it had to do with our temple and the thing we were supposed to protect, I hadn’t a clue. Master Isao watched me for a moment, then shook his head.

“You do not know why I told you that story, do you?”

“I do,” I protested, and Master Isao raised his bushy eyebrows. “It’s so that I can...um...well. No, I don’t.”

He said nothing, only waited patiently, silently insisting, as he often did, that I figure it out myself. I racked my brain, trying to understand. He mentioned a dragon, both in the story and earlier with the mirror, so it must be important. What had he said, exactly?

“The Dragon is rising,” I repeated, earning a nod of approval. “And, in the story, every thousand years, it can be summoned. To grant a mortal whatever they desire.” I paused, frowning slightly. “So...why does the Dragon grant wishes? It’s a god, isn’t it? Surely it has more important things to do than pop in every thousand years. Does it like granting wishes?”

“The Dragon is not a wish-granting puppet, Yumeko-chan,” Master Isao said. “It is a Great Kami—the God of Tides and the Harbinger of Change. Every time it appears, for good or ill, the world shifts and goes down a different path.”

“So, that must mean...is it time for the Dragon to rise again?”

“Very good, Yumeko-chan.” Master Isao gave another solemn nod. “You are correct. The time of the Dragon is nearly upon us. And there are many, even now, who are searching for a way to call on it. But the Dragon will rise only if it is properly summoned, and the only way to do that is to recite the young lord’s prayers, word for word. All one thousand of them.”

“A thousand prayers?” I cocked my head. I had trouble remembering what day of the week it was. I couldn’t imagine having to recite one thousand prayers from memory. “That sounds terribly difficult,” I remarked. “I don’t suppose it’s the same prayer, over and over again, either. Someone should have written them down...”

Oh.

And the pieces clicked into place. The mystery of the temple, the sacred duty of the monks. I glanced at the hanging scroll on the wall, the Dragon and the doomed ship, realizing its significance for the first time. “That’s what we protect,” I guessed. “The prayer to summon the Dragon. It’s...here.”

“A piece of it,” Master Isao said gravely. “You see, Yumeko-chan, long ago, someone used the power of the Dragon’s wish for a terrible thing. Darkness and chaos ruled, and the land was very nearly torn asunder because of it. It was decided that such power should never be used again, so the prayer was split into three parts and hidden throughout Iwagoto, so such darkness could not rise a second time.”

“But...I thought the Dragon only granted a wish to an honorable mortal,” I said. “One ‘whose heart is pure.’ How could the wish be used for evil?”

“The path to Jigoku is lined with honorable intentions,” Master Isao replied. “And absolute power can corrupt even the purest of hearts. Such is the folly of men. Regardless, now that you know what we protect, Yumeko-chan, we must be very careful. This is why we are so isolated, why the temple never receives visitors. With the coming of the Dragon, the balance will shift. Outside these walls, the land is in chaos. Men fight each other for power, unnatural things stir and rise, drawn by blood and violence, and the world grows dark with fear. It is our duty to ensure that the Dragon’s prayer never sees the outside world, that we guard this piece of the scroll from all who would call upon its power. This is our greatest responsibility, and now, it is yours, as well. Do you understand, young one?”

A spider of frost ran up my spine, even as I nodded. “I think so, Master Isao.”

“There is a shadow approaching this place, little fox.” Master Isao’s voice had gone soft, almost distant. He wasn’t looking at me, instead gazing at the wall over my head. “It draws ever closer, and some of us may not survive. But it will not catch you, if you can find the path between and hold on to the light.” Blinking, he glanced at me again, the distant expression fading as he smiled. “Ah, but I am rambling again, aren’t I?” he said brightly. “And I believe you had something to do today, didn’t you, Yumeko-chan? Oh...and if you want to avoid Denga and Nitoru this afternoon, I would sneak over the western wall.” One eye closed in a slow wink as he rose. “I will see you tonight at dinner. Give the monkeys my regards.”

He shuffled out, closing the door behind him, but for a few minutes I sat there, the story of the Dragon’s wish swirling through my head, taunting and ominous. I’d had no idea that this temple guarded something so powerful, that Master Isao and the others were not simple monks, but the protectors of a great and terrible artifact. A prayer that could summon a god.

The Dragon is rising.

A shiver ran up my spine. Was that the reason I was here, in this room? I’d always suspected Master Isao had been testing me for something, but could never figure out what. My own future was never clear, and I’d rarely wondered about it, too preoccupied with the present and what I could do today. Deep down I’d always assumed that, when I was old enough, or brave enough, someday I would leave the Silent Winds temple. Did Master Isao expect me to become a protector of the Dragon scroll? To stay here and guard it from those who wished to summon the power of the Dragon? Forever?

I shook myself. Stay in this temple for the rest of my life, sitting on a dusty old scroll? That can’t be what he meant. I thought back to my daily lessons with Jin, learning about the outside world and what life was like beyond the temple walls. I’d never actually seen a samurai, but I’d read all about them in books and scrolls. I knew the names of the clans, their customs and the history of Iwagoto going back three hundred years. Why bother to teach me if I was just going to stay in the temple protecting a scroll? Why would Master Isao have me learn so much about a world I would never get to see?

He wouldn’t. He’s not that cruel. Wrinkling my nose, I stood and dusted off my knees, already dismissing the notion. I’m not strong; I’m not a guardian or a warrior or a ki master. I’m a kitsune who can make a teapot dance around like a loon. Besides, Master Isao has Denga, Jin, Satoshi and everyone else to protect the Dragon’s prayer. They don’t need my help.

I stepped to the door, trying to dissolve the ominous weight in the pit of my stomach. The feeling that the world had changed. That something was out there, coming closer, and I was powerless to stop it.

Stop it, Yumeko. Just because you know about the scroll doesn’t mean something will instantly pop in, trying to steal it. I flattened my ears, trying to convince myself that this was foolish, that the cold creeping up my spine was because Master Isao was a brilliant storyteller. Not an omen of what was to come. I’m being paranoid. I’ve never liked scary stories. Maybe some time in the forest will clear my head.

Bolstered, I slid the door open a crack...and met a pair of stern, unamused eyes peering at me on the other side. Silently accepting the broom from Denga-san, I trudged out of the room. By the time I had swept the floors, the verandas, the steps, the pathways, the halls and every horizontal surface inside the temple and out, the story of the scroll and the Dragon’s wish had long faded from my mind.

3

The Warrior of Shadow

The night smelled of death. Both presently and to come.

Crouched in the branches of the gnarled wisteria tree, I scanned the grounds of Lord Hinotaka’s estate, taking note of every guardsman, sentry and patrol walking the perimeter. I had been here for nearly an hour, memorizing the layout of the grounds, and had timed the patrol’s rotations to within a few seconds. Now, with the moon fully risen and the hour of the Ox reaching its peak, the light in the topmost window of the castle finally winked out.

A warm wind stirred the branches of my perch, tugging at my hair and scarf, and the faint scent of blood brushed my senses.

There was a flicker at the back of my mind, an impatient stirring that was not my own. Kamigoroshi, or rather, the demon trapped within Kamigoroshi, was restless tonight, sensing the violence about to be unleashed. The sword whose name meant godslayer had been a constant fixture in my mind as far back as I could remember, from the day I had been chosen to carry the blade. It had taken over half of my seventeen years to master the volatile weapon, and without the training and guidance of my sensei, I would have succumbed to the rage and insatiable bloodlust of the demon trapped within. It pulled at me now, urging me to draw the sword, to leap down and paint the grounds of the estate in red.

Patience, Hakaimono, I told the demon, and felt it subside, though barely. You’ll get your wish soon enough.

I crept down the branch and dropped onto the outer wall, then ran along the parapets, the ragged edge of my crimson scarf floating behind me, until I reached a point where the corner of the blue-tiled castle roof swept close to the wall. Still a good fifteen feet overhead, but I took the rope and grapple from my belt, swung it twice and hurled it toward the roof above. The clawed hook clicked softly as it caught one of the fish gargoyles on the corner, and I shimmied up the rope and onto the tiles.

Just as I pulled up the rope, a single samurai came around the castle and passed below me, patrolling the inner wall. Immediately I froze, listening to the footsteps shuffle past, and breathed slowly to control myself and my emotions. There could be no fear, no doubt or anger or regret. Nothing to give Hakaimono a foothold into my mind. If I felt anything at all, if I allowed emotion to overcome me, the demon would take control, and I would lose myself to Hakaimono’s rage and bloodlust. I was an empty vessel, a weapon for the Shadow Clan, and my only requirement was to complete my mission.

The samurai walked on. Unmoving, a shadow against the tiles, I watched until he circled around the castle and vanished from view. Then, stalking silently over the rooftop, I made my way toward the top of the keep.

As I crept toward an open window, voices echoed beyond the frame, making me tense. My pulse jumped, and Hakaimono pounced on that moment of weakness, urging me to cut them down, to silence them before I was seen. Ignoring the demon, I pressed against the wall as two men—samurai, judging by their marching footsteps—strolled past, talking in furtive tones.

“This is madness,” one was saying. “Yoji missing, and now Kentaro disappears without a trace. It’s like the very walls are swallowing us whole. And Lord Hinotaka suddenly declares the top floors off-limits?” His voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “Perhaps it’s the ghost of Lady Hinotaka. There are rumors that she was poisoned—”

“Shut your fool mouth,” hissed the other. “Lady Hinotaka died tragically of an illness, nothing more. Keep that dishonorable tongue behind your teeth before it gets you into real trouble.”

“Say what you will,” the first samurai returned, sounding defensive. “This castle feels darker every day. I, for one, am happy to be mobilizing tomorrow, even if it’s a fool’s mission. Why our lord requires a dozen men to fetch an ancient artifact somewhere in the Earth Clan mountains, I do not understand.”

The voices faded and the castle was silent again. I slipped through the window and found myself in a long narrow hallway, the walls and floors made of dark wood. It was very dark; the only light came from the glow of the moon outside, and shadows clung to everything. I crept farther into the castle, senses alert for voices or approaching footsteps, but except for the two patrolling guards, the floor appeared deserted. No servants wandered the halls, no samurai played go games in their rooms or sat together drinking sake. An aura of fear hung in the air, tainting everything it touched. The demon in Kamigoroshi sensed it as well and stirred excitedly against my mind, a living shadow coiling about like a snake, eagerly anticipating what was to come.

The staircase to the last floor of the keep sat unguarded in a darkened corner of the castle, at the end of the long, narrow hallway. The aura of evil was stronger here, and tendrils of purple-black miasma trickled down the stairs, invisible to the normal human eye. The railing and wooden steps were starting to rot, and the floor around the stairs seemed blighted and weak. A white moth fluttered in from the nearby latticed window and instantly spiraled to the floor, dead.

Setting my jaw, I started up the stairs, ignoring the taint that swirled around me, trying not to breathe it in. The top floor opened up, thick wooden walls with latticed windows showing open sky. A dark mist writhed along the floor, coming from a pair of thick wooden doors against the opposite wall.

I walked to the doors and put a hand against the wood, feeling the sickness that warped it from the inside, then pushed it open.

A fog of purple-black corruption billowed out of the room and writhed into the air. Pausing on the threshold, I stared into the darkness. The walls and floor of the large, square room were covered in sheets of white webbing that hung from the ceiling and stuck to the floor. They wrapped around pillars and dangled from the rafters, tattered curtains rippling in the breeze. Here and there, clusters of bleached bones dangled from the webs, clinking together like grotesque wind chimes, and a few large, man-size cocoons were plastered to the walls, held immobile in the strands.

I stepped through the frame and heard the door creak shut behind me. The webbing on the floor stuck to my tabi boots, but not enough to slow me down. It rustled as I walked forward, vibrating the strands around me and rattling the bone chimes. I made no attempt to be silent. My target was here; there was no reason for stealth any longer.

A low chuckle drifted out of the darkness, soft and feminine, and the hairs on the back of my arms stood up. “I hear the patter of little male feet,” crooned a voice, echoing all around me, though I couldn’t see anything through the webs and strands. “Has Lord Hinotaka sent me another plaything? Something young and handsome, who yearns to be loved? Come to me, sweet one,” it continued in a haunting whisper, as I gripped the hilt of Kamigoroshi, feeling the demon’s savage anticipation. “I will love you. I will wrap my love around you, and never let you go.”

The last few words echoed directly overhead, just as Hakaimono gave a warning pulse in my mind. I threw myself forward on instinct, not bothering to look up, and felt something catch my jacket sleeve as I dove away. As I rolled to my feet, I spun to face a huge and bulbous form dangling from the ceiling, eight chitinous legs curled around the spot where I had been standing a moment before.

“Sneaky little man bug.”

The huge creature uncoiled its legs and dropped to the floor, clicking as it turned to face me, revealing the head and torso of a beautiful woman fused to the body of a giant spider. An elegant black-and-red kimono covered her human half but looked ridiculously small where the spider’s thorax emerged from beneath it. Looming above me, the jorogumo cocked her head and smiled, tiny black fangs sliding between full red lips.

“What’s this?” she breathed, as I dropped into a crouch and gripped the hilt of my sword. Hakaimono roared through my head, eager and vicious, sharpening my senses and making the air taste of blood. “A boy? Have you come into my lair, looking for me?” She tilted her head the other way. “You are not like the others, the men Hinotaka sends up to my lair, so proud but then so terrified. They flail like frightened crickets at first. But you...are not afraid. How delightful.”

I didn’t answer. Fear was the first thing that had been purged from my body; the most dangerous emotion of all. Fear, my sensei had taught me, was simply the body’s aversion to pain and suffering. A samurai who encountered a starving bear wasn’t afraid of the bear itself, but what the bear could do to him. He feared the claws that could rip his flesh, the teeth that could crush the life from his bones. I had been trained to withstand what many could not, the weakness beaten, burned, cut and stripped from my body, until only a weapon remained. I did not fear pain, nor did I fear death, because my life was not my own. A giant, man-eating spider woman was no more concerning than a starving bear. The worst she could do was kill me.

The jorogumo giggled. “Come then, little man bug,” she crooned, holding out slender white arms. Her voice turned soothing, almost hypnotic. It droned through my head, coiling around my will and laying spiderwebs in my mind. “I can feel the lonely desire in your heart. Let me love you. Let me ease all the worry and grief weighing down your soul. You can taste the sweetness of my kiss, and feel the softness of my embrace, before I send you gently into ecstasy.”

The jorogumo drew closer, smiling, her face filling my vision until there was nothing left. “You have the most beautiful eyes,” she purred. “Like the petals of a nightshade flower. I want to pluck them out and hang them in my parlor.” She reached down, and curved black nails touched the side of my face. “Adorable little human...we should not be strangers tonight. What is your name, man bug? Tell me your name, that I might whisper it lovingly as I devour you whole.”

I felt the demon within smile and heard my voice speaking to the spider woman, though they weren’t my words. “You already know my name.”

I drew the sword, and Kamigoroshi flared to life, bathing the room in a baleful purple glow. The jorogumo shrieked and skittered backward, her serene expression twisting with hate.

“Kamigoroshi!” she hissed, baring her fangs. Her black eyes narrowed, appraising me. “Then you are the Kage demonslayer.”

Smiling coldly, I stepped forward, feeling the sword’s power expand, filling my veins with fury and bloodlust. The jorogumo retreated, multiple legs clicking over the floor, her face pale in the flickering purple light of Kamigoroshi. “Why?” she demanded, long fingers curled into claws as she stared at me. “I have everything I want here. All I have taken are the men not loyal to Hinotaka, those he has declared unworthy to serve him. What are the lives of a few samurai to you, demonslayer?”

I didn’t answer, continuing to stalk forward, the blade pulsing in my hand. It was not my place to question the orders of my clan, or why they wanted this yokai destroyed. Though, if I had to guess, the arrival of the jorogumo within Shadow Clan territory was reason enough to act. We, the Kage family, specialized in darkness; we knew the secrets of the shadows and the creatures that lurked within better than any other clan in the empire. I was the Kage demonslayer; this was my job.

The jorogumo swelled with hatred and fury. “Wretched human,” she spat as her jaw unhinged, curved black fangs sliding between her lips. “You will not slay me as you slaughtered Yaku Hundred Eyes, or the nezumi tribe of Hana village. I’ll bite off your head and savor your blood as you slide down my throat.”

She lunged, a scuttle of yellow and black across the floor, shockingly quick for her bulk, and my senses spiked, as well. I leaped aside as one of those legs stabbed down and smashed into the wood with enough force to snap a floorboard in two. Whirling, I lashed out with Kamigoroshi, cutting through another limb in a spray of black ichor, and the jorogumo shrieked in rage.

Hakaimono howled with approval in my mind, reveling in the violence, urging me to fully release its power. I kept a tight grip on my self-control, even as I dodged the jorogumo’s furious reprisal, her long legs scything down at me as she charged. Backed into a corner, I whispered a quick incantation in the language of Shadow, and another Tatsumi split away from me as we darted in opposite directions.

The jorogumo hesitated, confused with the appearance of my reflection, giving us enough time to circle around her. Hissing, she whirled toward the Tatsumi on her left and slashed down with a leg. It passed through the reflection without pause and crashed into a pillar, and the mirror image dissolved into writhing darkness and vanished. Now behind the huge yokai, I raised Kamigoroshi and slashed it across the bulging abdomen.

Yellow ichor spattered, hissing to the floor, and the jorogumo’s scream vibrated the webs around us. “Evil human!” she shrieked, spinning to face me, leaving a dripping trail of ooze behind her. “How dare you touch my beautiful body?” She staggered, legs scrabbling for purchase, and I lunged, aiming for the spot where human and spider fused together, intending to split them in half once and for all.

The jorogumo bared her teeth as I came at her. “Curse your eyes!” she hissed, and a spray of green liquid shot from her jaws and misted into the air. I twisted aside to avoid it, but felt a spiderweb mist settle on my face, a second before my eyes started to burn. Blinking rapidly, I staggered away, keeping Kamigoroshi raised as I scrubbed at my face with a sleeve. Through streaming tears, I saw a blur of yellow and black fill my vision, and slashed at it blindly. The sword edge bit into something large as the chitonous leg struck me like a mallet blow, smashing me aside. I felt Kamigoroshi tear from my grasp as I rolled over the floor, tangling myself in sticky webs before I hit the wall.

Dazed, still half-blind, with Hakaimono snarling in my head in frustration, I pushed myself upright and searched desperately for my sword, but my feet were abruptly yanked from beneath me. I hit the floor on my stomach and looked back to see thick strands of webbing wrapped around my legs, the ropes stretching back to the jorogumo’s abdomen. The huge yokai smiled, baring black fangs, and began reeling me in like a fish.

“Come to me, tasty little man bug,” she crooned, as I began the inescapable slide toward her. Flipping to my back, I tried tearing the webs from my legs, but they were as strong as silk ropes and wouldn’t budge. Desperately, I cast about for something to free my limbs, furious with myself and my mistake, imagining what Ichiro would say if I let myself get eaten by a jorogumo. I searched the floor for a sharp bone or discarded blade, but except for dust and a few finger bones trapped in webbing, there was nothing close.

“I have a special treat for you, human,” the yokai continued, still reeling me across the floor. “You can be the host for my next batch of children. I will lay a hundred eggs in your stomach and keep you alive until the day they hatch and devour you from the inside.” She giggled through her fangs, continuing to pull me across the floor with unnatural strength. “I wonder if my babies will be stronger than any before them,” she mused, “because they feasted on the Kage demonslayer?”

I was now only a few yards from the huge yokai, close enough to see the triumph in her black eyes, the venom dripping from her smile, and my stomach recoiled in disgust. There was no other choice. Slumping to my back, I relaxed, closed my eyes and opened my mind to the demon in the sword.

It responded instantly, a bright flare in the darkness, filling me with rage. I felt the sword hilt bite into my palm as I clenched my fist and opened my eyes.

The jorogumo’s face was above me, jaws gaping and curved black fangs descending toward my throat. I saw my own reflection in her gaze, eyes blazing crimson, and caught the split-second fear as she realized too late what she’d really caught. Kamigoroshi flashed, cutting across her face, and she reeled back with a scream, hands going to her eyes.

I sliced through the webs on my legs, leaped upright and shoved the blade into the bulbous body of the yokai directly overhead, sinking it to the hilt. Before the jorogumo could move, I sprinted beneath her, continuing to carve the sword through the bulging abdomen, until I came out the other side.

Panting, I lowered Kamigoroshi, flinging yellow ichor to the ground, as the jorogumo behind me collapsed with a scream, segmented limbs clattering against the floor as she flailed. She flipped to her back, thrashing, strangled choking sounds coming from her mouth, until her legs curled over her split stomach and were finally still.

Not enough. Hakaimono still raged through my mind, wanting more. More blood, more killing. Its rage wasn’t nearly satisfied, but it never was. Though only a small piece of my soul had been offered to the blade, the demon sank its claws in deep and struggled to maintain its grip. Taking a deep breath, I closed off my mind and my emotions, becoming a blank vessel with no weaknesses to latch on to. The demon fought me, loath to relinquish control, to return to the darkness, but I concentrated on feeling nothing, being nothing, and Hakaimono’s presence finally slipped away.

“What have you done?”

The horrified voice rang out behind me. I turned, gripping my sword hilt, to face a squat, middle-aged man standing in the doorway. His blue-and-gray kimono was very fine, and he had the soft, fleshy look of a man who ate well and sat on the softest cushions. His doughy face was pale as he gazed wildly around the room.

“You killed her,” he gasped, dark gaze falling on the twisted form of the dead jorogumo. “You killed her! Why? Do you realize what you’ve done?”

I didn’t answer. Of course I realized what I’d done—killed the yokai my clan sent me to destroy. The reasons didn’t matter. I was simply a weapon. A weapon did not question the intent of those who wielded it.

“How could you,” the man went on, moaning as he came forward. “That creature was the only thing that cared for me. The only living being that ever gave me love. My hateful wife only offered spite and condemnation. Even my men sneer and talk about me behind my back. This creature—” he gazed mournfully at the body on the floor “—freed me. She promised she could help me achieve my heart’s desire, my greatest wish.” His eyes hardened, jowly chins quivering as he set his jaw. “I would have gladly fed her appetites with a thousand men in gratitude for what she offered.”

Lord Hinotaka’s legs shook, and he sank to his knees, his gaze never leaving the corpse of the jorogumo behind me. “Whoever you are,” he said in a trembling voice, “depart my keep before I alert the guards. I assume you were sent to slaughter the monster of Usugurai castle, and you have done your duty. Now go, and may the curse of a thousand grudge spirits follow you for the rest of your days. You’ve killed your mark, now leave me to my misery.”

“Not yet,” I said softly, and raised Kamigoroshi once more. “There is one more monster I must kill, before my mission is complete.”

Hinotaka frowned, but then his eyes widened and he grabbed for the sword at his obi—too late. Kamigoroshi sliced through his neck in one smooth motion, and the man’s head toppled from his shoulders, bounced once and rolled to a stop beside the corpse of the jorogumo. The headless body hit the floor with a thump and soaked the carpet of webs in liquid crimson.

I flicked blood off Kamigoroshi and took a moment to watch the lord bleed out beside his monster. I took no pleasure in killing Hinotaka. The clan had demanded his death; I had simply been the instrument to carry it out. The lord of Usugurai castle had murdered his wife to placate the jorogumo and had sacrificed his men to her desires, but he was only a puppet. This jorogumo was a two-hundred-year-old yokai that had plagued Iwagoto for many years. She would claim a lonely part of a castle, seduce its lord with promises of love or power and then slowly consume all the men from the inside. When the time came, she would inevitably turn on the lord, paralyzing and hiding him away in her lair, before leaving the castle and vanishing into the dark. Her last victim would be found days later, hanging in the webs, his insides hollowed out and empty from the hundreds of baby spiders that had chewed their way free. For a time, the jorogumo would vanish, fading into rumor and legend, but about twenty years later she would reemerge, targeting another castle, and the cycle would begin anew.

No longer. The yokai was dead, and there would be no more humans sacrificed to her hunger. Hinotaka would be the last. How the Kage knew when and where she would emerge, and why I had been sent to kill her now, I did not know. It wasn’t my place to ask questions; all that mattered was completing the mission.

Gazing down at Hinotaka’s corpse, I felt a faint flicker of pity. He was just another casualty in the long line of the yokai’s victims, but what would drive a man to allow such a monster into his castle, much less his affections? I didn’t understand, but it didn’t matter. He was dead, and his end had been much cleaner than if the jorogumo had finished what she came to do.

Sheathing my blade, I left the room, slipped out a window onto the roof of the keep and disappeared into the night.

* * *

Sheets of rain pounded the road as I approached the edge of town, about a half mile from Usugurai castle. I crept along the roof of a two-story building that served as the rendezvous point for the mission, then dropped onto an overhang and slipped through an open window.

Instinctively, I ducked and rolled away as a shuriken embedded itself in the sill, the four-pointed metal star sinking into the wood. Springing into a defensive crouch, I put a hand on my sword hilt, as a snicker echoed out of the darkness and a shadow disengaged from the corner.

“Oh, sorry, Tatsumi-kun.” The female voice was an amused murmur, as Ayame came into view, grinning at me. Like myself, she was sheathed in black, wearing bracers and tabi boots, her long hair tied behind her. The hilt of a short sword poked over her shoulder, and a kusarigama—a chain with a sickle attached at the end—hung from her waist. “I thought you were a big wet rat, climbing in the window.”

“Ayame.” I straightened cautiously, watching as the other shinobi sauntered to the window and pried the shuriken from the wood. We had been raised together since we were young, had gone through basic shinobi training together. It was hard to remember now, but she might have been my best friend. That was before the circle of majutsushi, the mages of the Shadow Clan, had chosen me to be the new bearer of Kamigoroshi, and I had been taken away for private instruction. I hadn’t seen Ayame again until years down the road, and we had both changed. Now I was the Kage demonslayer, and she was a skilled shinobi. It made sense that she would be here now, watching and protecting from the shadows. “Where is Master Ichiro?”

“Here.”

The door slid open and a man came into the room, making no sound as he stepped across the threshold. He could be described as unremarkable, a short, middle-aged man with features one could easily forget. All deliberately crafted on his part. He moved with a fluid grace that belied his humble appearance, and his sharp black eyes were as keen as a hawk’s.

Ayame backed away, melting into the shadows once more. I sank to my knees and bowed, keeping my gaze on the floor as the man approached, feeling his stare on the back of my neck.

“Is it done?” he asked in a low voice.

“Yes, sensei,” I replied without looking up.

“Hinotaka as well?”

“All the targets have been eliminated, sensei.”

“Good.” I felt him nod. “The clan will be pleased. Were you injured?”

“The jorogumo spit venom in my eyes,” I answered, “but it’s cleared.”

He grunted. “You weren’t paying attention, then. I told you spiders will spit when they’re feeling cornered. Did you have to call on Hakaimono?”

“Yes.”

“Bakamono.” I felt a sharp, stinging blow upside my head, rocking me forward a bit. I had been expecting it and didn’t move as Ichiro made a sound of disgust. “That’s the second time in as many months, Tatsumi. You’re getting careless.”

I placed my hands on the floor and bowed even farther, touching my forehead to the tatami mats. “Forgive me, sensei. I’ll try harder next time.”

“Keep making mistakes and there won’t be a next time,” Ichiro growled. “Keep using the demon’s power and one day, you won’t be able to control it. One slipup, one death that the clan didn’t call for, and they will kill you, Tatsumi. And then I will have no choice but to commit seppuku for my failure in teaching you control.”

“Now, Ichiro-san,” came a new voice, high and breathy, and the sound of hakama trousers shushed into the room. “Don’t be too hard on the boy. We told him to kill a dangerous, two-hundred-year-old yokai who has been feeding on men for centuries, and the traitorous lord who was plotting against the Kage. He’s done his duty, and the clan is pleased.”

I lifted my head, blinking as lantern light spilled over me, illuminating the stranger who had come into the room. Tall and reed-thin, he wore a black robe with swarms of white sakura blossoms, and a white silk fan was clutched between long fingers. The faintest wisp of a goatee graced a delicate jaw, and he lifted an eyebrow as thin as a line of ink, regarding me as one would a curious insect on the floor.

“So, this is our little demonslayer, is it?” The stranger cocked his head, holding his fan before his nose. I could sense he was smirking at me behind the silk. “How very...intriguing. Well, Ichiro-san, don’t be rude. Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Ichiro sighed. “Tatsumi, this is Kage Masao,” he said gruffly. “He honors us with his presence, as he is the chief advisor to Lady Hanshou herself.”

Lady Hanshou? The Kage family daimyo? A flicker of surprise went through me. Lady Hanshou was the elusive leader of the Shadow Clan, a mysterious woman shrouded in legend and rumor, rarely seen or spoken of, lest her personal spies hear and take action. She almost never left her chambers in Hakumei Castle, and very few people had ever laid eyes on what lay beyond the castle doors. It was said Hanshou was surrounded by the deadliest shinobi in the land, a group so loyal that they cut out their own tongues to make certain they never betrayed her secrets. As for Hanshou herself, the darkest rumors claimed she was immortal, but not even her own clan knew much about her, who she was, even what she looked like. Most were content to let the mystery be.

“Don’t look so shocked, Tatsumi-san.” Masao closed his fan with a snap and steepled his long fingers together. “Lady Hanshou has been watching your exploits, and your continuous triumphs have gotten her attention. In fact, that is why I am here. She wishes to meet you in person, young demonslayer. I am to take you to her, tonight.”

“So stop gaping like a landed fish,” Ichiro snapped before I could say anything, “and go get yourself cleaned up. We can’t have you meeting the daimyo of the Shadow Clan looking like a drowned rat.”

I bowed to the two men and obeyed, slipping out of the room and down the steps to the first floor.

I am to meet the daimyo of Kage, the leader of the Shadow Clan. A ripple of what might’ve been apprehension went through my stomach. Immediately, Hakaimono stirred, intrigued by that flicker of emotion, and I coldly crushed it, telling myself to feel nothing. Intellectually, I knew this was a great honor; few were called into Lady Hanshou’s presence, fewer could claim that the daimyo of the Shadow Clan had spoken to them face-to-face. My missions were passed to me through Ichiro and the other sensei; there was no reason the leader of the Kage would assign them to me in person. I’d heard of samurai earning rewards, recognition and honor through great deeds and acts of valor, but such opportunities were not granted to one such as I. I killed demons, monsters and yokai because that was the purpose of my existence. A weapon needed no praise or recognition to do its job.

So, why would Lady Hanshou want to see me?

A servant waited for me at the foot of the stairs, and I followed him into the small bath where, per normal, I was met by a pair of Shadow Clan healers. Dressed in ash-gray robes, they greeted me with the same clinical detachment they showed at every post-mission examination.

“Remove your weapons and clothes,” one told me in a bored tone, pointing to a stool in the middle of the room, “then sit. Let’s get this over with quickly.”

I obeyed, disarming myself of weapons—shuriken, grappling hook and the kunai throwing knives hidden in my bracers—before setting Kamigoroshi in the corner. The servant, as well as the two healers, stayed far away from the sword as I laid it down, as if it were some terrible beast that would savage them if given a chance. I knew they regarded me in much the same way. All Kage were aware of Kamigoroshi’s curse and interacted with me as little as possible to avoid prodding the demon. When I was a child, it had been terribly lonely, the way everyone recoiled like I had the plague. Now, it meant nothing to me.

After peeling off my soaked black suit, I sat on the stool while the pair examined me. One tilted my head up to look at my eyes, while the other prodded my side, eliciting a sharp twinge of pain.

“Hmm,” he muttered, digging his fingers into my skin, poking and pinching. I set my jaw and didn’t make a sound. “One cracked rib, and several deep bruises along his side, nothing broken.”

The other pulled down my eyelid, wrenching my head toward the light. “Traces of venom in his eyes, not enough to blind, fortunately. Did the jorogumo bite you?” he asked me.

“No.”

“So your innards aren’t turning to soup as we speak, good to hear. And you managed to keep most of your blood on the inside this time, well done. It becomes very tiresome when you continuously show up half-dead in the middle of the night.” He released my chin and turned to gesture to the servant. “We’re done here. Bathe him, bandage the cuts and send him to Master Ichiro when you’re finished.”

The servant bowed silently as the healers left the room, then picked up the bucket sitting beside the stool and dumped it over my head. The frigid water drenched my hair and seemed to rake talons of ice over my skin, but I didn’t move as the servant sluiced the dirt and grime from my body, scrubbing my wounds until the flesh around them turned pink. When I was clean, he sloshed another bucket of water over my head, bandaged the cuts and left without a word.

Standing, I gazed around and saw that another servant had left a change of clothes on the edge of the tub: a pair of hakama trousers, a dove-gray obi sash and a black haori jacket bearing a white crescent eclipsed by a dark moon—the crest of the Shadow Clan—on the back.

Ichiro and Masao waited for me in the next room, speaking quietly with a pair of sake cups between them. I didn’t see Ayame, but I knew she was close. My sensei only grunted as I knelt on tatami mats and bowed low, but I could feel Kage Masao watching me with an almost predatory smile as I touched my forehead to the floor.

“There you are,” Ichiro remarked as I raised my head. “Well, you look like a dog chewed on you, but at least you no longer resemble a drowned rat. Masao-san has a pair of kago waiting outside to take you across town. Are you ready?”

“Yes, sensei.”

“Excellent!” Masao-san rose in a fluttering of robes and fan. “Come then, little demonslayer. We mustn’t keep Hanshou-sama waiting.”

He swept out of the room. I rose to follow, but Ichiro grabbed my arm as I passed him, rough fingers digging into my flesh as he leaned close.

“Listen to me, boy,” he growled, as I went still in the grip of my sensei. “You are about to meet the most important person in the Kage, the leader of the Shadow Clan herself. Do not embarrass me. If you dishonor me in front of the lady, I assure you, the beating you took tonight will feel like a massage compared to what I will do to you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master Ichiro.”

“Remember what we taught you. Repeat it to me, now.”

“I am nothing,” I said automatically. “I am a weapon in the hands of the Kage. My life exists only to be the bearer of Kamigoroshi and to obey the orders of the Shadow Clan.”

“Good.” He nodded and released me. “See that you remember when speaking to the lady. Now go.”

Kage Masao stood on the covered veranda, gazing distastefully at the rain, a colorful parasol held over his head. A pair of kago—individual palanquins made of lacquered wood and carried by four trained bearers—waited at the bottom of the steps. I had never ridden in a kago; they were usually reserved for nobles and important individuals, not lowly assassins. But, glancing at Kage Masao and his flowing robes, I realized he had not traveled here by horse and certainly not on foot.

“What horrible weather.” He sighed, bringing his fan to his face, as if the rain itself offended him. “Fitting for this backwater little town. I shall be glad to be done with it.” Glancing at me, he offered a bright smile and gestured to a kago. “Well, Tatsumi-san? Shall we be off?”

The ride was fairly short, as the town wasn’t large, and soon the servants were sliding back the door of the kago, revealing a large, two-story ryokan—an inn—looming at the edge of the muddy road. Inside, I followed Masao up the stairs to a room at the end of a corridor and waited in the hall while he entered. A moment later, a servant slid back the door, releasing a few wisps of gray smoke, and beckoned me inside. The room beyond was cloaked in shadow and smelled of incense and tobacco. Cautiously, I stepped through the door and as it slid shut behind me, I dropped to my knees and pressed my forehead to the tatami mats.

“Kage Tatsumi,” Masao purred. “The demonslayer.”

“Come forward, boy,” a voice rasped, startling me with its harshness. “Come into the light. Let me see the bearer of the legendary Kamigoroshi.”

Blinking away smoke, I raised my head and inched forward on my knees, squinting to see past the lamp that burned on the edge of a low table. Sake bottles lined the polished surface like ranks of warriors protecting their general, and incense hung thick in the air, smelling of smoke and sandalwood.

Peering past the haze and the bottles, I caught a glimpse of the speaker and clenched my jaw to stop the sharp inhalation of breath. Only years of training and practice kept my features expressionless. It seemed as if Lady Hanshou’s face had been flayed, beaten and left out in the sun to burn before being set back on her sunken neck. Folds of skin hung from her sticklike arms; her hands were wizened bird’s claws, one of them clutching a long-handled pipe as if it was her lifeline to the living world. A few wispy white threads were still attached to her scalp, floating on the air like spider silk. One milky eye was half-shut, the other burned with such intensity that it bordered on madness.

Lady Hanshou smiled a wide, toothless grin at my silence. “Not quite what you were expecting, eh, demonslayer?” she cackled. “Keep staring, but this face isn’t going to get any prettier.” Immediately, I pressed my face to the tatami mats again, but Lady Hanshou let out a snort. “Oh, get up, boy,” she snapped, sounding impatient. “Let me look you in the eyes. Merciful Kami, you’re young,” she exclaimed as I rose. “How old are you, boy? Fourteen?” Without waiting for an answer, she swatted Kage Masao’s leg with the back of her hand. “Masao-san! How old is he now?”

“He is seventeen, my lady.”

“Is he?” Hanshou’s face took on an expression that could have passed for surprise. “He looks younger than that. Ah, but you all look like babies to me.” She groped for a sake bottle, somehow managing to leave the empty ones undisturbed. Masao took the bottle and poured her a cup of the rice wine, which she downed in a single gulp, then held the cup out for more.

“You hide your disgust well.” With a start, I realized she was speaking to me. Her unclouded eye rolled up to fix me with a bright, intense stare. “Better than Ichiro-san, his lurking little pupil, or even Masao-san here. I was not always like this, you know.” She sniffed and blew out a cloud of smoke, which curled around me like grasping tendrils. “Once, I was so beautiful Emperor Taiyo no Gintaro himself wished to make me his bride, and pined after me when I refused.”

I did not know that emperor’s name. Taiyo no Genjiro was the current emperor ruling from the Golden Palace, and Taiyo no Eiichi was the emperor before him. Not knowing what to say, I remained silent. Hanshou eyed me, her voice turning sly, her lips twisted into a leer. “I could have stolen even your affection, demonslayer,” she stated in a raspy voice. “Made you lust after me as the demon in your sword lusts for battle. You would not have been able to resist. What do you think of that?”

Masao cleared his throat. “My lady, time grows short,” he said. “You will not be able to remain out in this weather much longer. We need to return to Hakumei Castle tonight.”

Hanshou pouted. “Oh, very well,” she sighed. “I suppose I shouldn’t tease the boy any longer. But you’re no fun at all, Masao-san.” Sitting a little straighter, she stuck the pipe in her mouth and glared down her nose at me. “Kage demonslayer, I have called you here personally for a very important task. Tonight, I will send you on the mission you were born for.”

She gestured, and Masao came forward to lay several sheets of paper on the table before me. I picked them up. A few were travel documents with the Kage daimyo’s seal; papers that let you pass through the territories of the other clans without being detained at the checkpoints. I was surprised, but only for a moment. Technically, the land was at peace. The last emperor had forbidden open warfare, and the clans had been enjoying a rare period of calm between centuries of fighting and bloodshed. Recently however, it had flared up again, surprising no one. There was too much animosity, too many grudges and feuds and personal vendettas between the Great Clans; all it would take was a single aggressive act, an insult that could not be ignored, and the daimyos would be at each other’s throats again. If I was discovered sneaking through a rival clan’s territory without permission, that might be the act of aggression needed to declare war. And though I was certain I could do it without being caught, I understood Lady Hanshou’s precaution.

The other paper was a scroll that, when smoothed out, displayed a map of the mountains somewhere in Earth Clan territory. A river snaked across the map, cutting through forest and plains, heading north. I thought I recognized it as the Hotaru Kawa, the river that eventually led to Kin Heigen Toshi, the great capital city in the center of Sun Clan territory. The capital, however, was not my destination. By the X marked at the top of the largest mountain peak, I assumed that was my target.

“The Silent Winds temple sits atop the Niwaki Mountains on the eastern edge of Tsuchi lands,” Lady Hanshou said, confirming my suspicion. “You will go to the gates posing as a pilgrim, asking to spend the night. If they let you in, so much the better. If not, you will infiltrate the temple some other way. It doesn’t matter how you get in, only that you find what you were sent for.”

“Understood,” I replied. A temple full of monks was not my normal mark; most orders were peaceful, reflective organizations that stayed neutral from the politics and fighting of the clans. But it was not my place to question my daimyo. “Who is my target?”

“This is not a killing,” Lady Hanshou replied, to my immense surprise. “I am sending you to retrieve an item for me. I would rather there not be slaughter, but there could be instances where your particular talents will come in handy. I am sending you, Tatsumi, because Ichiro believes that among your fellow shinobi, you are the best, and getting to the item might prove challenging, even for one such as yourself.” Her good eye narrowed, her words becoming harsh. “But it is imperative that you retrieve the item. I don’t care what it takes, who you have to kill. Do not dare to return without it—that is an order from your daimyo.” Her voice grew even harsher, becoming a raspy growl that send a chill up my back. “Kage demonslayer, know that if you fail me, the consequences will be dire. We will be watching you, and the Shadow Clan does not tolerate disobedience. Do you understand?”

“My lady, my life is bound to the Kage.” I bowed low once more, reciting the words that were expected. It didn’t matter if I meant them; they were true nonetheless. “And to you. I will not fail. Only tell me what I am searching for, and it will be done. What must I retrieve?”

Lady Hanshou’s eye burned feverishly bright in the darkened room, and her lips curved in a faint smile. “A certain scroll I lost,” she whispered, “years and years ago.”

4

Tanuki Tea

I hated lighting the candles in the main hall.

Two hundred and seventy-seven. There were two hundred and seventy-seven candles that had to be lit, individually, around the room. Every evening, before sundown, so the monks could hold their nightly meditations. I don’t remember when it officially became my duty to light the candles; I suspected Denga or Nitoru had suggested the idea to Master Jin, the old monk who cared for the hall, to “teach me patience and dedication.” Certainly, you had to have both for this task. The main hall was enormous, with towering pillars and dark wood floors polished to such a sheen that you could see every flickering candle flame within. At the end of the hall stood the enormous green statue of the Jade Prophet, whose teachings all monks sought to emulate. There were no windows, and the only natural light came through the massive wooden doorway at the entrance, so the chamber was constantly dark and quiet. When all the candles were lit, they created a hazy orange glow throughout the room, transforming the hall into a surreal haven of shadow and dancing lights.

But it took forever to light them all.

I sighed, lowering the candlestick to gaze mournfully around the room. So many more to go. I hadn’t even reached the thirty or so candles on the altar. If only there was a way to light them all at once...

I paused, and a grin spread across my face at the idea. Actually, I could light them all at once. I was kitsune, after all. Kitsune-bi was fire, wasn’t it? Heatless, magical fire, but much easier to manipulate than normal flames. The monks wouldn’t like it, of course. Nitoru and Denga definitely would not approve, but then, they didn’t approve of anything I did.

I blew out the candle in my hand, then set it on the floor. Rising, I half closed my eyes, brought my open palm before my face and called on my magic.

A ghostly, blue-white flame sputtered to life between my fingers. It flickered and danced harmlessly against my skin, casting eerie shadows over the walls and pillars, growing steadily larger until I cupped a glowing sphere of foxfire. For just a moment, I saw my shadow on the wall of the temple: a human figure with pointed ears and a bushy tail rippling behind it.

Raising my head, I flung my hand out in an arc, and kitsune-bi scattered in all directions, tiny flames that flew across the room like falling stars. Lowering my arm, I observed my handiwork smugly. The hall now glowed with blue-white foxfire, luminescent flames that hovered on the end of candlewicks. In my opinion, it was much prettier than ordinary fire, though it did give the chamber a rather eerie, ghostly feel.

But more important, all the candles were lit. And it was still a good hour until evening meditations. I was free until then. Dusting my hands, I headed for the exit.

Voices outside made me freeze. I sidled along the wall to the door and peeked through the frame. Jin was walking up the steps toward the main hall and worse, Denga was beside him.

Oh no. My ears flattened in alarm, and I backed swiftly away. If they caught me, I’d probably get a lecture: maybe on the value of patience and dedication to one’s task. Maybe they’d forbid me from using magic again. At the very least, they’d make me start over, lighting every candle one by one, under supervision this time.

Hiding place. I need a hiding place, quickly.

I hurried to the far wall and, with a whispered apology, ducked behind the enormous statue of the Jade Prophet, just as a furious shout rang from the entrance.

“Foxfire!” Denga’s footsteps stalked into the room, and I peeked from behind the statue to watch him. The kitsune-bi cast a flickering white glow over his outraged face as he whirled, gesturing furiously. “The demon girl lit the candles with foxfire! Of all the...” He sputtered with rage. “When I find her—”

“Now, Denga-san.” Jin’s voice echoed behind Denga, calm and amused. “She is just a child, after all, and a kitsune at that. She does not understand.”

“No.” Denga spun one more time, glaring around the hall, before he turned and marched back toward the exit. “This has gone far enough. It’s become perfectly clear that she is more fox than mortal, that her yokai nature is overshadowing her humanity. Something must be done. I’ll not stand for her pranks any longer.”

Jin blinked, watching him depart. “What are you planning to do, Denga-san?”

“Speak to Master Isao and convince him to put a binding on her,” Denga replied, making my stomach twist. His voice drifted up the steps as he left the hall. “Seal away that infernal fox magic for good. Before we wake up and find a true demon in our midst.”

My heart pounded. Jin watched Denga storm off, then sighed and began blowing out the kitsune-bi flames above the candles. He extinguished them one at a time, slowly and deliberately, his entire attention focused on his task. He would be done in a few minutes, but I did not want to stay here any longer, in case Denga returned with Master Isao and made good on his promise. Trying to slip out while Jin was in the room would likely get me caught, but I had one last, supremely forbidden, trick up my sleeve.

At the statue’s base, I knelt, dug my fingers between a certain board and lifted it away, revealing a narrow hole that led under the floor of the main hall. It was too small for a human, even a petite human, to fit through. But I wasn’t just human. I was also kitsune.

Closing my eyes, I summoned my power once more, feeling my heart start to pound with anticipation. Most fox magic was illusion and trickery, just as Denga had said. Images laid over truth, making you see and hear things that weren’t there. Flawless copies, but no more substantial than a reflection in a mirror. But there was one form that I could shapeshift into for real, though I was forbidden from using it without permission.

Today seemed a good day to break all the rules.

My body grew warm, and I experienced the abrupt sensation of shrinking rapidly, along with the familiar cloud of white smoke. When I opened my eyes, I was much closer to the floor. Sounds were sharper, shadows nearly nonexistent, and the air was alive with new smells: the musty earth, the sharp tang of metal and the hint of candle smoke still in the air. In the blurred reflection in the statue’s pedestal, a pointed muzzle and golden eyes stared back at me, a bushy, white-tipped tail curled around its legs.

Master Isao did not approve of me being a fox. You are human, he’d told me on more than one occasion. Yes, you are kitsune, but being Yumeko is much harder than being a fox. If you spend too much time in that body, someday you might forget what it means to be mortal.

I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that and right now, it didn’t matter. Ducking my head, I slipped easily into the hole, glided beneath the floorboards and came out beneath the veranda. After making sure no monks, and especially Master Isao, were nearby, I headed into the garden, to the old maple tree leaning against the temple walls. Fox paws were quick and nimble, and the wood was very rough; I scurried up the gnarled trunk, dropped to the other side and escaped into the cool stillness of the forest.

* * *

Later that evening, I was sitting on a flat rock beside my favorite quiet pond, dangling my bare feet in the water, as I pondered what to do next. Jewellike dragonflies zipped over the mirrorlike surface, and small whiskered fish swam lazily below my feet, eyeing my human-again toes. The sun had warmed the rock, and a breeze whispered through the bamboo grove surrounding the pond. It was a good place to forget your troubles, and I often came here when life at the temple got too dull, or when I was hiding from Denga. Normally, the water, the breeze and the fish could erase my worries in no time. But today, I couldn’t forget what had been said in the temple hall.

Seal away my magic? Just like that? Make it so I couldn’t weave illusions, change my shape, or call upon my foxfire? That seemed excessive. I’d never actually hurt anything with my pranks, except Denga’s pride. And maybe a sliding panel or two.

I glanced at my reflection in the water. A girl with pointed ears and yellow eyes stared back, bushy tail curled behind her. She is more fox than mortal, Denga had raged as he’d stormed out of the hall this evening. Her yokai nature is overshadowing her humanity.

“That’s not true,” I told the kitsune staring back at me. “I’m still mostly human. At least, I think I am.”

“Talking to yourself, little fox cub?”

I glanced up. A squat old woman was making her way slowly around the edge of the pond. She wore a ragged robe, a wide-brimmed straw hat and tall wooden sandals that sank into the grass as she minced along the bank. In one gnarled hand she held a bamboo pole, resting on a shoulder; the other gripped a cluster of tiny fish dangling from a string. Her eyes glimmered yellow beneath the brim of her hat as she looked up at me.

I smiled. “Good evening, Tanuki-baba,” I greeted politely. “What are you doing out here?”

The old woman snorted and raised the cluster of fish. “Planting flowers, what does it look like?”

I frowned in confusion. “But...those are fish. Why would you be planting flowers, Tanuki-baba? You don’t eat them.”

“Exactly. Some of us actually have to work for our food, unlike some spoiled, naive half foxes I won’t name.” She eyed me from under her hat, raising a thin gray eyebrow. “But what are you doing out so late, cub? Those humans of yours don’t like it when you wander off.” She chuckled, showing a flash of yellow teeth. “Is Denga-san on the warpath? Did you turn the cat into a teakettle again?”

“No, not in a long time—it scratches me when I try to put a leaf on its head. But...” I shivered, clutching at my arms. The sun-warmed rock suddenly felt cold. “Denga-san was angry,” I told her. “More than I’ve ever seen before. He said I was more yokai than human, and that Master Isao should put a binding on me. What if Master Isao listens to him? What if he really does seal off my magic? I...” I faltered, feeling my stomach twist at the thought losing my power. “I can’t imagine having no magic. It would be worse than cutting off my fingers or plucking out my eyes. If that happens, what will I do?”

Tanuki-baba snorted. “Come,” she said, gesturing down the trail with the end of her bamboo rod. “I’ll make you some tea.”

I hopped down and followed the hunched form away from the pond, onto the narrow winding path through the bamboo forest. Her pole bobbed as she walked, and the tip of a bushy brown tail peeked from beneath the hem of her robe. I pretended not to notice, just as I knew she pretended not to see my ears and tail. It was an unspoken rule among yokai; one did not call attention to their...yokai-ness if one did not want be haunted, harassed, or cursed with extremely bad luck. Not that I was afraid Tanuki-baba would do so. To me she had always been a grandmotherly old yokai, and the stories of the tricks she used to play on humans when she was a young tanuki were always entertaining, if sometimes scary.

We emerged from the bamboo into a deeper, darker part of the forest. Here, ancient trees grew close together, intertwining branches nearly shutting out the sun. Thin streams of light cut weakly through the leaves, dappling the forest floor, and the air had a still, almost reverent feel. Curious kodama, the tree spirits of the forest, peered at us from behind leaves or followed us down the trail, their ethereal green bodies no larger than my finger.

Tanuki-baba led me along a familiar babbling brook, over a tiny arched bridge that was being eaten by toadstools and fungi, and toward a wooden hut that had been completely swallowed by moss. Long, long ago, she’d said, it had belonged to a yamabushi, a wandering priest who sought harmony and balance within nature, who could see and communicate directly with the kami. But that mortal had moved on or died, and the hut was now hers. Part of the thatched roof had fallen in and trees and brush surrounded it; if you didn’t know there was a dwelling there, you might miss it in the vegetation. The interior, as always, was a mess, with junk piled in every corner and along every wall.

“Sit,” Tanuki-baba gruffed, gesturing to a low wooden table in the center of the floor, the only clear space in the room. “I’ll make us some tea—assuming I can find the pot, that is.”

There were two or three teapots resting in different places throughout the clutter. I didn’t say anything, because my suggestions were always met with refusal. That teapot was cracked, or dirty, or had a family of birds living in it. No, the right teapot was here, somewhere, and only she could find it. I knelt at the wooden table until Tanuki-baba finally stumbled upon what she was looking for, an ancient and dinged iron pot, and yanked it out of the pile.

“Empty,” she sighed, peering in the top. “That’s good, I suppose. No mice this time. Means I have to fill it up, though. I’ll be right back,” she told me, waddling out again. “Don’t touch anything.”

I waited patiently, rolling little flames of kitsune-bi across the table surface, while Tanuki-baba filled the teapot, set it on the brazier and lit the coals at the bottom. She then bustled about the room, taking things from the clutter along the walls and muttering to herself. Finally, she returned to the table with the teapot, two chipped cups and a tray bearing the fish she had caught, still raw and unscaled, laid out in a row.

“Ahhh,” she sighed, settling onto the threadbare pillow opposite me. After several moments of shifting around and making herself comfortable, she took off her hat and tossed it in a corner, where it blended into the clutter. Politely, I dropped my gaze, careful not to glance at the round, furry ears that poked up from the top of her gray head. “Go on and pour the tea, cub,” Tanuki-baba ordered, waving a hand at the pot and cups. “At least make yourself useful.”

I carefully poured a thin green liquid into the two cups, then offered one to her. She took it with a crooked smile and set it down before her.

“You don’t mind if I switch forms while we eat, do you?” she asked, eyeing the tray of fish in the center of the table. “This body is more useful for tea-making, but I’d rather be comfortable in my own house.”

I shook my head. “Not at all, Tanuki-baba. Please do.”

She snorted, raised her head and shook herself. Dust flew everywhere, rising from her body like a cloud, swirling into the room. I sneezed, turning away from the explosion, and when I glanced back, a furry brown creature with a dark mask and a bushy tail sat where the old woman had been. I set a teacup in front of her, and she picked it up with two dark brown paws before raising it to her narrow muzzle.

“Ah, much better.” She put the cup down with a clink and snatched a fish from the tray, tossing the whole thing into her jaws before crunching down with sharp yellow teeth. “Now,” she continued, as I sipped my tea. It was far more bitter than I liked, but it wasn’t polite to say so. “Tell me then, cub. What kind of trouble have you gotten into with those humans of yours?”

Briefly, I told her about my trick with the candles this evening, and how it had infuriated the monks, particularly Denga-san. When I got to the part about Denga wanting Master Isao to seal away my magic, Tanuki-baba gave a violent snort and nearly knocked over her teacup.

“Ridiculous,” she growled, taking the last fish and biting into it with the snapping of delicate bones. “Binding a yokai’s magic, hah! It is blasphemous to even suggest such a thing. I wouldn’t put up with that sort of nonsense.”

“What should I do, Tanuki-baba?”

“Well, I know what I would do in that situation,” Tanuki-baba said, an evil look crossing her masked face. “But you’re probably too young for such chaos. And the solution is obvious, is it not? You need to leave.”

“The monks don’t like that,” I said. “They’re always very cross when I run off like this. I’ll probably get a scolding when I return tonight.”

“No,” Tanuki-baba growled. “You need to leave...and not go back.”

“You mean...leave the temple permanently?”

“Of course.” The old yokai gestured to the door of her hut. “Do you think the temple is the only place you can live? And that the monks’ way of life is the only one?” Her muzzle wrinkled. “There’s a whole huge world out there, cub. Full of wonder, riches, chaos and things you can’t even imagine. You’re wasting both your life and your talents, staying behind those temple walls, listening to humans drone on about morality. A kitsune is not meant to be caged. Don’t you want to get out there and see what you’re missing?”

Something inside me stirred, the yearning, intrigue and curiosity for the world beyond the walls rising to the surface again. I did want to know what was out there. I wanted to see the places Master Isao spoke of—the sprawling cities and tangled wilderness not meant for human feet. I ached to visit Kin Heigen Toshi, the great golden capital, and travel to the top of Finger of God Mountain, the highest peak in Iwagoto, which was said to touch the sky. I wanted to see samurai and merchants, nobles and peasants, geisha and bandits, and farmers and fishermen. I wanted to see it all.

And, in a tiny thought that I barely admitted even to myself, I was tired of always having my magic restricted. To practice fox magic only under supervision, or to be punished whenever I used it for pranks, jokes, or to get out of work. If I was truly free, there would be no limitations; I could use my kitsune powers however I wanted.

But to do that, I would have to leave behind the monks, the temple and the only life I’d ever known. And while the order of the Silent Winds temple was small, confining and rigid, it was also safe. I was just one kitsune, not even a full-blooded yokai. I wasn’t quite ready to be that brave.

“I can’t leave, Tanuki-baba,” I told the hunched figure across the table. “Where would I go? How would I live?”

Tanuki-baba blinked. “What do you mean, how would you live?” she snapped. “You’re kitsune, girl! You’d go where you want. You live however you like.”

“I’m only half kitsune,” I pointed out. “And I’ve been with the monks my whole life. I don’t know how to be a fox.”

“Don’t know how to be a fox?” Tanuki-baba threw back her head and cackled. Flecks of spittle flew from her narrow jaws as she laughed, shaking her head. “Poor little kitsune,” she mocked. “You’ve lived with these humans for too long, letting their mortality infect you.” She chuckled, giving me a look of exasperation. “You are a fox. You don’t have to learn how to be kitsune. You just are.”

“But—”

“And don’t give me any excuses about your ‘human’ side.” Tanuki-baba curled a lip, showing sharp yellow teeth. “Even a drop of yokai blood is enough to suppress any hints of humanity, if you want it to. You just have to choose to be more kitsune than mortal.”

Choose to be more kitsune? How did I do that? Was there a ritual for it? I thought back to what Denga-san had said this evening, about my yokai nature overshadowing my humanity. Was that what the monks were afraid of? Did they fear I would turn into a nogitsune, an evil wild fox that delighted in fear and chaos and preyed on humans whenever it could?

I swallowed hard. “But what if I don’t want to be more kitsune?” I asked, making Tanuki-baba frown. “What if I’m happy as a human and a fox?”

She sniffed. “Then you are a fool,” she stated bluntly. “And you are fighting a losing battle. It is very hard to be human, little fox. Even the humans themselves don’t do a great job of it. The mortal world is full of hatred, betrayal, sadness and death. Most yokai and kami alike find that it is too much for them. Everything the humans think they value—love, honor, empathy, compassion—we yokai need nothing of those, especially when they so often lead to suffering and despair. It is far easier to abandon everything that is human and just be kitsune. The world of spirits and yokai is far less complicated than the world of men.”

“I don’t understand, Tanuki-baba.”

“Of course not.” Tanuki-baba shook her shaggy head, but did not elaborate. “You are a cub, with no sense of the world. But you will learn. If you continue to try to balance your two natures, you will. And in time, when you finally experience what the human world is truly like, you will decide that being a fox is much less difficult than being human.” She glanced down at the table, nostrils twitching. “But now, our teacups are empty, and the fish is gone. That means it is time for bed.”

I rose and bowed to the ancient tanuki. One did not question the habits or behaviors of yokai as old as she. “I should go home,” I said, taking a step back. “The monks will probably be waiting with a lecture. Thank you for the tea and the conversation, Tanuki-baba.”

“Fox cub,” the old yokai called as I reached the door. I glanced back to see the squat, furry creature sitting in the squalor of her house, watching me with eyes that glowed yellow in the shadows. “You walk a thin line, little kitsune,” she said, and her voice was a warning, though I didn’t know from what. “The place between the spirit realm and the mortal realm is a difficult one, indeed. Remember, you can always give up your humanity if things become too hard. It is far easier for a kitsune, even a half kitsune, to abandon it than one who is fully mortal.”

I still didn’t know what she meant by that, so I simply nodded and left, slipping into the dim quiet of the woods.

Immediately, I knew something was wrong.

In the time I had spent in Tanuki-baba’s home, night had fallen, and the forest had gone deathly still. Instead of birdsong or the rustle of small creatures scampering through the undergrowth, an ominous silence hung in the air. The forest kami had vanished like they’d never been, leaving empty, lifeless woods behind. And a new scent was creeping through the trees, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. The sharp, acrid scent of smoke.

I sprinted through the forest, retracing my steps past the hollow, the stream and the bamboo grove, until I reached the pond. The green-and-silver wall opened up, showing the night sky with a faded crescent moon overhead and a smear of crimson sinking into the west.

My heart twisted. A dark smudge was rising over the tree line, coiling and ominous, like a terrible black dragon. It snaked into the air, blotting out the stars, coming from the direction of...

“Home.”

5

Demons in the Bamboo

I was close.

Even on horseback, it had taken me several days to reach Earth Clan territory and the Niwaki Mountains where the Silent Winds temple was said to be located. The tiny farming community in the valley below the forested peaks stared at me, wide-eyed, as I rode past terraced fields and thatched huts, following the path that snaked toward the mountains. A pair of small children trailed behind my horse, palpably curious and getting steadily closer, until they were snatched away by worried-looking adults. Traveling samurai were likely rare to this part of the valley, members of the Shadow Clan even more so, and farmers naturally gave the warrior class a wide berth. For this mission, I was dressed in the part of a Kage samurai, in hakama trousers and a black haori jacket, the crest of the Shadow Clan on my back. My shinobi gear was tucked into the saddlebags of my horse in case I needed it, though a shadow warrior never revealed himself to outsiders. If I was denied entry at the gates, I would slip over the walls and infiltrate the temple as silently as a yurei ghost, but for now, I was a samurai on a warrior’s pilgrimage, seeking wisdom at the shrines across Iwagoto.

A thin farmer wearing a ragged tunic and a cloth tied around his forehead bowed low as I passed, dropping his gaze to the dirt. I pulled the horse to a stop and glanced down at him, or rather, at the top of his bald head.

“Is the Silent Winds temple nearby?” I asked softly. The man didn’t look up, only bobbed once at the waist, his eyes on his sandaled feet as he replied.

“H-hai, my lord! The temple is right up this path, at the top of the mountain.”

“Thank you.”

I gave the horse a nudge and continued on, leaving the farmers and the village behind. The path became a narrow, twisting trail that grew more treacherous the farther it wound through the forest. I surmised that the monks of this temple rarely received, or encouraged, visitors. Perhaps they simply wished to meditate and study in peace, far removed from the chaos of the world, or perhaps they were hiding—protecting—something.

As night fell and the shadows grew long, the trail nearly vanished, melting into the brush and thick undergrowth, as if the forest itself took offense to intruders. But I had been trained to spot the hidden and the invisible, and darkness was no hindrance for me. I continued, passing bamboo groves and huge trees strung with sacred rope, signifying they were home to the kami.

In my head, Hakaimono stirred. I pulled the horse to a stop and sat, motionless, trying to hear past the labored breaths of the animal beneath me. Around us, the woods were silent and still, evening shadows cloaking all but a few spots of mottled red sunlight.

Very slightly, I opened myself up to the sword and felt the terror in the woods around me, the rapid heartbeats of many living things. Coming toward us? There was a rustle in the bushes ahead, and my horse froze, every muscle taut.

With an eruption of leaves and vegetation, a herd of spotted deer leaped out of the trees and bounded toward me, causing my pulse to spike and my horse to rear up with a squeal. I kept my seat as the animal tried to bolt, squeezing with my knees and pulling back the reins, managing to bring it under control. It snorted and trembled, ears pinned to its skull, as the deer sprang past us and continued into the forest. Hakaimono flared, and I shoved the demon’s presence down, as well.

As the horse calmed, I breathed cautiously and caught the hint of smoke on the wind. I gazed through the canopy overhead, saw a curl of blackness rising over the treetops and kicked the horse into motion. We sped down the trail, Hakaimono pulsing eagerly in my mind, knowing violence was not far away, and death would soon follow.

The air grew hazy and sharp, smelling of burning timber, and my stomach clenched. Looking up, I saw a faint crimson glow against the sky. Small forest creatures, rabbits, squirrels and others, fled through the undergrowth, going in the opposite direction, and my horse began to balk, fighting my orders to continue. Grimly, I set my heels to its ribs and continued, knowing it wasn’t the fire that was spooking it. Something was here, in the forest. And whatever it was, I couldn’t allow it to hinder my mission. I had to get to the scroll.

As we reached a narrow, half-eroded flight of steps through a bamboo forest, a kama sickle flew from the bushes, spinning end over end, and struck my mount in the neck. As the horse screamed and fell, crashing to the steps, I sprang from the saddle and rolled, feeling the jarring impact through my shoulder, then came to my feet several yards away.

A flood of small grotesque creatures spilled from the bamboo forest, cackling and waving spears and crude blades. They swarmed the horse, leaping atop its back, shrieking and poking as it struggled to its feet. Panicked, the mortally wounded horse fled, bucking wildly down the path with its demonic passengers clinging to the saddle, while the rest of the horde spun on me.

Amanjaku? I felt a ripple of both shock and unease, even as Hakaimono flared excitedly at so many things to kill. I had dealt with them in the past, but never in these numbers. How were there so many?

I drew Kamigoroshi as the demons shrieked, baring their fangs, and attacked. One sweep split the first wave in half, severing heads and torsos, and the amanjaku howled as they were sent back to Jigoku. Leaping forward, I dodged a spear thrust at me, stabbed a demon in the eye and beheaded another as I yanked the blade out. Then I was in their midst, and it was nothing but teeth and claws and flashing blades. I gave myself over to the dance of death, Hakaimono’s unrestrained glee surging through my veins.

With alarmed shrieks and howls, the remaining amanjaku scattered into the bamboo forest, their small forms fading quickly from view. Panting, I lowered Kamigoroshi and looked around, wondering where they’d come from, who had brought them here. Amanjaku were minor demons of Jigoku; they couldn’t appear out of nowhere, but the blood magic needed to summon them was a dangerous power that was strictly forbidden throughout the empire. The key component to working the magic of Jigoku was, of course, blood. Sometimes it required other things: souls, organs, body parts, but mostly it called for the life force that ran through all mortal veins. The larger, more powerful the spell, the more blood was required to successfully cast it.

But, the dangerous catch was, it didn’t have to come from the practitioner. Jigoku didn’t care whose blood was spilled, be it man, woman or child, as long as it was human, and as long as the price was paid. Although, as befitting the realm of evil and corruption, the more you cared for the person whose blood was being spilled, the more powerful the magic that came of it. A lover, brother or child whom you betrayed would bestow far more power than a nameless stranger. This was the reason the empire forbade blood magic, why practicing the dark arts was an immediate death sentence. Even a single amanjaku required a blood sacrifice to draw it into the mortal realm; I couldn’t imagine the amount an entire horde would call for.

I didn’t know who had summoned the demons, but I could certainly guess why. After sheathing Kamigoroshi, I sprinted up the trail, heading for the temple and hoping I wasn’t too late.

6

The Flames of Despair

The temple was on fire.

I burst out of the forest, panting, staring in horror at the bright orange flames snapping against the night sky. The elegant, four-tiered pagoda roofs were ablaze, a roaring, savage inferno, the stench of smoke, ash and charred timbers scorching the air. Ripples of heat seared my skin as I approached the back wall, scrambled gracelessly to the top and dropped with a thump into the gardens.

What did this? Who would dare? I’d heard tales of the world beyond the temple walls, stories of warring clans and fierce, proud samurai. Tales of rival daimyo lords and their endless bickering, how they would declare war and hurl entire armies at each other over some imagined slight to their honor. But according to Master Isao, even the most savage, warmongering daimyo respected the monks, or at least, would not risk the kami’s wrath by attacking a peaceful temple.

Unless they knew about the scroll.

A shriek turned my blood to ice, and I ducked behind a juniper tree. Peering around the trunk, trying not to inhale smoke and ash, I dug my nails into the bark to keep myself from gasping in terror.

A crowd of small grotesque...things were gibbering and dancing around the pond, silhouetted in the hellish light of the fires. At first, I thought they were misshapen children; they wore ratty tunics, had large, bulbous heads and stood barely past my knees. But then I saw the horns, the mouths full of pointed teeth, the tattered ears and jutting fangs. Their skin was either a mottled blue or red, and they carried crude weapons in their claws: kama sickles, spears and short knives.

My blood chilled. Demons? Jinkei’s mercy, why are demons here? I had seen pictures of demons in the temple library, terrible red-or blue-skinned oni with horns, fangs and enormous clubs, who tormented the wicked souls sent to Jigoku. These creatures, stabbing the poor trapped carp swirling frantically around the pond, weren’t as big as the monsters in the books, but I could tell they were demons nonetheless.

I clenched my fist against the trunk, feeling the bark dig into my knuckles. Why were demons here? Why were they attacking the temple? For the scroll? But I’d thought the creatures of Jigoku lived only for bloodshed and chaos; the scroll would mean nothing to demons. Unless something else, or someone else, was commanding them...

This makes no sense. I have to find Master Isao. But first, I have to get past those demons.

After plucking a leaf from the juniper tree, I slipped around the trunk and placed the leaf on my head, drawing on my fox magic. For a moment, I found it horribly ironic that, just this afternoon, I’d been wishing to use my magic more often. My heart pounded, but I held the image of what I wanted in my mind, then released the magic over my body. There was a soundless explosion of smoke, and when I opened my eyes, my skin was a mottled red and my feet had hooked yellow claws on the ends of their toes.

With a deep breath, I stepped away from the tree, just as one of the demons at the pond looked up and spotted me.

It blinked for a moment, frowning, and I held my breath, hoping he saw what I wanted him to see: a fellow demon, red-skinned and hideous. I chanced a grin, baring crooked fangs, and the demon snorted, returning to its game of stabbing the carp. The once crystal clear water of the pond was now red with blood. Leaving the doomed fish to their fate, I hurried on.

The roar of the fire greeted me as I left the gardens, and clouds of swirling embers stung my skin as I passed the engulfed pagoda and ran toward the main hall, keeping to the bushes and shadows. An even bigger crowd of demons swarmed the building, waving torches and cavorting around the steps that led to the entrance. When I peeked through the leaves, my stomach gave a painful twist. A few yards away, a body lay sprawled on the stones of the courtyard, a pair of spears jutting from its chest, vacant eyes staring into nothing.

Jin. I clapped both hands over my mouth to keep the cry from escaping, feeling my eyes start to burn. Jin had always been kind to me, always patient and understanding, never growing irritated or raising his voice. And now he was gone. Behind the monk, I could see another pair of bodies lying in pools of blood, their faces turned away so I didn’t recognize them in the shadows. But I would. As soon as I saw them clearly, I would know them.

Shaking, I lowered my arms and wrenched my gaze from the bodies. I can’t mourn them now, I told myself, forcing back the blurriness in my eyes. I have to keep going. I wondered why none of the demons had gone into the building; the main entrance lay open and unguarded, since the hall had no doors to speak of. As I watched, a larger blue demon gave a raspy cry, lifted a wooden mallet above its head and rushed the door, scuttling toward the stairs. But as it reached the bottom step, there was a flash like a burst of lightning, and the demon bounced off like it had hit a stone wall, to the cackles and high-pitched laughter of the rest.

My eyes widened. A ki barrier? I had seen such a thing before; Master Isao had sometimes demonstrated the power of ki for the other monks, creating walls of force that could not be breached, or surrounding an object with an invisible barrier that made it impossible to touch the thing inside. But...a whole building? The amount of concentration that must require was unfathomable.

Also, how am I supposed to get through? The barrier covers the whole building. Unless...

My heart beat faster. Very powerful ki masters had such control over their ki that they could choose who could pass through the barrier and who could not. If Master Isao heard the demons coming and realized I wasn’t at the temple, surely he would make it so I could pass through the barrier. Right?

Setting my jaw, I took a step away from the bushes, when a tremor went through the ground under my feet. Gazing back at the hall, I saw a massive horned shadow appear. My heart nearly stopped. Silhouetted against the flames, the beast walked slowly around the corner of the building, resolving itself into something huge and terrible.

O...oni? I stumbled backward in terror, watching as the enormous red creature lumbered toward the entrance, scattering smaller demons before it. Cold sweat trickled down my back as it came into view, fangs, horns and huge spiked club shining in the torchlight. This was the monster from the storybooks. Jigoku’s most infamous denizens were the nightmares of legend, terrifying and near unstoppable. Why...why is there an oni here? Why?

But that was a stupid question. I already knew the answer: it was here for the scroll.

Oh, why didn’t I listen to Master Isao? When he told me about the scroll, and why it was so important, why didn’t I listen?

At the top of the steps, the oni paused, gazing toward the entrance of the hall, the heavy spiked tetsubo resting over one shoulder. Swinging the club in one hand, it prodded the barrier with the end of the weapon and watched the wall flicker and pulse with every poke. The smaller demons clustered around the oni’s legs, waiting eagerly, their eyes glowing as red as the firelight. The oni snorted, rolled its massive shoulders and hefted its club in both hands.

It brought the tetsubo smashing down on the ki barrier, and the shock wave that pulsed out tossed the branches of the surrounding trees and sent the demon horde stumbling back. For a moment, the invisible dome shivered into view, rippling like a mirage before fading from sight again. I winced, wondering if the barrier would shatter, knowing that each blow was also an assault on the monks’ concentration as they struggled to maintain their focus. The barrier held, but the oni raised the club to hit it again, and the horde cackled as they waited for it to fall.

I had to get inside, now.

Kami protect me! With a deep breath, I stepped from the bushes and walked as calmly as I could across the yard, praying my disguise would hold. Several demons glanced up, frowning, but most of their attention was diverted to the huge oni, who smashed its club into the barrier again. In the hellish light, the dome rippled, and I could see silver cracks creeping up the surface, making my blood run cold. It wouldn’t hold much longer.

Wanting to avoid the massive oni, I slipped around the side of the building, breathing a sigh of relief as I ducked around the corner...and immediately collided with a demon sprinting around the wall. Its blue bulbous head smacked into my stomach, driving the air from my lungs with the force of a ki punch. I reeled back and fell, gasping, and felt my hold on the illusion shatter in a puff of white smoke.

The demon, who had also been knocked back, rubbed its forehead with a claw, wincing, then glared at me. Its red eyes widened in shock as it saw, not a fellow demon, but a girl with furry ears and a tail, sitting there in the dirt. It leaped up with a howl and lunged, and I scrambled back, just managing to dodge the sword as it thunked into the spot where I had been.

Two more demons appeared from shadows: one holding a spear, the other brandishing a pair of kama sickles. They cackled as they spotted me and charged, while the blue demon continued to swipe at me with his blade. As the others closed in, I gave a snarl of frustration and hurled a ball of kitsune-bi into the blue demon’s face.

It flinched back with a hiss, claws going to its eyes, as if expecting to be burned. The blue-white flames flared bright for a moment, then faded harmlessly into nothing. But it gave me enough time to lunge past the demon, changing into a fox as I did, and dart beneath the veranda. There was a sharp tingle as I passed through the ki barrier, like a static shock along your whole body, and then the comforting darkness of the space beneath the hall closed around me. Safe.

My legs shook as I crawled beneath the floorboards, sliding over cold earth and pushing through webs, looking for the loose board that would lead behind the statue of the Prophet. Overhead, the booms of the oni’s club shook the building, showering me with dust and causing spiders to flee in terror.

A sliver of orange light glimmered in the darkness ahead, illuminating a thin rectangle of dirt, and I hurried toward it. Squeezing between the planks, I clawed myself onto the floor of the great hall, the statue of the Jade Prophet looming overhead. I staggered away from the statue and looked around for Master Isao.

My stomach twisted. He sat before the statue of the Prophet, hands cupped in his lap, eyes closed and face serene. The rest of the monks sat around him, also in meditation, though I could see sweat pouring from their faces, their brows furrowed in concentration. Each time the oni’s club hit the barrier outside, one of them would flinch, clenching his jaw or pressing his lips together. I saw Denga sitting behind Master Isao, a stream of red running from his nose as he fought to maintain the barrier. His eyebrows twitched with every blow, and his jaw was set, even as blood dripped from his chin to spatter his hands.

As I forced myself back to human form, Master Isao’s eyes opened to gaze right at me. Smiling, as if this meeting was over the dinner table and I had come in late, he raised a hand and beckoned me forward.

“Ah, there you are, Yumeko-chan. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Master Isao!” I flung myself beside him. “What are we to do? The oni is almost through the barrier. How will we escape?”

“There is no escape,” Master Isao said calmly, making my heart plummet. “Not for us. We have done our duty. But you, Yumeko-chan. You must continue it.”

Horrified, I stared at him. “I don’t... I don’t understand, Master Isao,” I whispered. “What do you mean, I must continue it? How?”

I trailed off, as the wizened monk reached into the sleeve of his robe and drew something into the light. A simple case, made of dark lacquered wood, a red silk ribbon wrapped around the cylinder. I gasped as he held it up.

“Is that...?”

“Take it, Yumeko-chan,” Master Isao ordered, and held it out to me. “It must not fall into the hands of demons. You must keep it safe at all costs.” Another boom rattled the beams overhead, and one of the monks behind us drew in a sharp breath. Master Isao’s gaze never wavered from mine. “Take the scroll,” he said again, “and leave this place. Run, and don’t look back.”

Frantically, I shook my head. “I can’t,” I whispered, as my eyes grew hot, tears welling in the corners. “I can’t leave you. Where will I go? I don’t know anything about the outside world. How can I keep the scroll safe?”

“Fox girl.” Master Isao’s voice was firm, and I blinked at him in shock. Though the other monks often used that phrase, he never called me anything related to my true nature. “Listen to me. There is something I have not told you, a piece of your past I must reveal. When you first came to us, in the fish basket with the note pinned to your blanket...” He paused, a shadow of regret passing through his eyes, so quick I might have imagined it. “I have told you most of what the letter said,” Master Isao continued, “but not all. The part that you have not heard is this...”

His words echoed strangely in my head, like they were coming from a great distance away.

Humble monks, I beg you to be patient and to not judge, for I have seen a vision of the future. In this vision, I have seen blood and flames and death, demons shrieking and rivers of bones, and the world grows dark with fear. But a single fox stands above it all, untouched, a great dragon cast in her shadow. Her name is Yumeko, child of dreams, for she is our hope against the coming darkness.

My insides turned to ice. Master Isao smiled gently and raised the scroll once more. “So you see, Yumeko-chan,” he said, “our fate was already foretold. Whoever left you at the gates of the temple knew this was coming, and that you would play a part in the tale, the fourth coming of the Dragon.”

Numb, I stared at him, not really comprehending what he just told me. A thud echoed through the hall, and with a gasp, one of the monks behind us collapsed, holding his head. For the first time, a bead of sweat appeared on Master Isao’s forehead and ran down his face. I shook myself out of my trance and clutched at his sleeve. “Why?” I whispered. “I’m not ready. Why does it have to be me?”

His withered hand closed over mine. “Because you are the only one who can do this. Listen carefully, Yumeko-chan.” Master Isao squeezed my hand, and the strength in his fingers calmed me somewhat. “We are not alone in our mission, nor are we the only guardians. There is another temple, another order that guards a piece of the scroll. You must go to them. Warn them of what happened here. They will protect you, and the Dragon’s prayer. It is their sacred duty to do so.”

“Where are they?”

“I cannot tell you,” Master Isao said. “I do not know, myself. It is a legendary place of myth and rumor, and its location has been lost to the ages. I know only its name—the Steel Feather temple. And that it is somewhere very far from here.

“But...” he added before I could protest in despair. “There is one who knows the location of the temple. You must travel to Kin Heigen Toshi, the capital city in the center of the Sun lands. Within the city is the Hayate shrine—go there and ask for the head priest, Master Jiro. He can tell you the location of the Steel Feather temple.”

“Master...” Tears were running down my cheeks; my stomach was curling around itself in both terror and anguish. “I can’t. I can’t do it alone.”

“You can,” Master Isao said firmly, and held up the scroll once more. “You must. This is my last request. Take the scroll to the Steel Feather temple. Warn them of what transpired here, that someone wishes to bring the pieces of the Dragon scroll together once more. Do not let our deaths be in vain.” Another crash sounded outside, and he closed his eyes. “Promise me, Yumeko-chan. You must protect the scroll. The fate of this land depends on it.”

With shaking hands, I reached out and took the scroll, wrapping trembling fingers around the case. It was surprisingly light in my palm. “I promise,” I whispered. “I swear I’ll find the Steel Feather temple, warn the other monks and protect the scroll. I won’t fail you.”

He smiled. “Take this as well,” he said, and pressed a tanto, a short, straight dagger, into my palm. “It will come in handy, when defending yourself with words and cunning is not enough. And this.” He draped a simple furoshiki—a wrapping cloth used for transporting clothes, gifts, or other possessions—around my shoulders. “To hide your burden from the rest of the world. Now, go.” He nodded toward the statue. “Don’t worry about us, and don’t cry. We will meet again, Yumeko-chan, in the Pure Lands or in another life.”

With a mighty crash that shook the entire hall, the barrier shattered. Monks gasped or cried out, hands going to their heads, and the floor trembled as the huge oni stepped into the room, a flood of demons behind him.

“Go, Yumeko-chan,” Master Isao said, and his voice was icy. Stone-faced, he rose and stepped toward the hulking thing in the doorway. Feeling like a coward, I skittered half-behind the Jade Prophet, knowing I had to leave, but unable to tear my eyes away. Master Isao and the others waited calmly as the shadow of the demon grew larger, its eyes glowing like red coals against the dark.

The oni smiled as he entered the hall, ducking his massive head as he stepped into the room, looming to a terrifying height. He was so large that his horns nearly scraped the ceiling. “Monks of the Silent Winds temple,” he rumbled, his terrible voice making the air shiver, “my name is Yaburama, fourth demon general of Jigoku, and I have come for the Dragon scroll.” He raised his tetsubo and swung it into his palm with a meaty thump, as the small demons hissed and chortled gleefully behind him, waiting for the signal to attack. “Give me what I have come for, and perhaps I will make your deaths painless.”

“Abomination!” Denga’s voice rang over the snarls and cackles of the demon horde. Fearlessly, he strode forward, until he was only a few yards away from the mountain of an oni. “We will never relinquish the scroll to such evil. You are not welcome here. By the Jade Prophet, begone, and take your minions with you!”

The oni cocked his head. Abruptly, he swung his club, shockingly fast, striking Denga in the side and smashing him into a pillar. The monk hit the beam with a sickening crack and crumpled to the floor, blood streaming from his nose and mouth, eyes staring sightlessly ahead. I bit my lip to stifle a shriek, and the oni curled a lip.

“Your Jade Prophet means nothing to me,” he commented, as the demons shrieked with laughter and swarmed into the room.

With cries of fury and outrage, the monks surged forward, meeting the demons in the center of the hall. They were unarmed, and their opponents wielded blades and spears as well as claws and teeth. But the monks were far from defenseless. Ki energy pulsed, turning fists into hammers and feet into weapons of destruction. A demon’s skull imploded after Nitoru kicked it in the head, spraying demon blood everywhere before it writhed into crimson-black smoke and disappeared. A trio of demons swarmed Satoshi, who caught a spear thrust at him, wrenched it out of the demon’s grasp and plunged it through its gaping mouth. But he didn’t see the danger behind him until a second demon sank a kama sickle deep into his leg. Satoshi staggered and dropped to a knee, and the monsters piled on him, dragging him to the floor.

Yumeko! Master Isao’s voice rang in my head, though the master of the Silent Winds temple strode right for the center of the room, ki energy crackling around him, where the terrible oni waited. Go, now!

I turned toward the hole in the floor and prepared to shift into fox form. But a bulbous blue head poked up between the boards, and a demon clawed itself out of the hole, followed by two friends. When they saw me, they hissed and raised their spears, and I hastily backed up.

Jinkei help me, I was trapped. I couldn’t go forward with the trio blocking the hole, and I couldn’t go back into the room, where the battle between monks and demons raged. The din was deafening, screams and howls mingling with flashes of ki, flying bodies and blood. As the trio of demons grinned evilly and tensed, I raised my arm, and a ball of blue-white foxfire flared to life in my palm. The blue demon glanced at the ghostly flames and sneered, making my heart sink; apparently a ball of kitsune-bi to the face wasn’t going to work a second time.

With a roar, the massive bulk of the oni flew backward and crashed into the statue of the Jade Prophet, knocking her off her base. The statue teetered for a moment, giving me just enough time to scramble away, before toppling through the wall with a deafening crash of wood and stone. The three amanjaku were buried under the rubble, and a warm, smoke-scented breeze rushed into the hall from the hole it left behind.

I cringed, ducking behind one of the pillars lining the room, as the oni shook its head and looked up at Master Isao, who stood in the center of the room. The monk was breathing hard, blood running down his face from beneath his hat, both palms raised.

A deep growl came from the oni, sitting against the ruined statue. “You hit hard, for a mortal,” the monster rumbled, getting to its feet. “Well done, but it will not save you. The amanjaku are tearing your brothers apart as we speak. No one is left.” He craned his neck from side to side, rolled his shoulders forward and raised his club. “It is time to end these games. Let us see if you have the ki to do that again!”

The oni lunged with a roar. As he barreled forward, raising his club high overhead, Master Isao’s calm gaze flicked to me. In the moment our gazes met, he smiled.

Go, Yumeko-chan, whispered his voice in my head, gentle and serene. Run.

This time I didn’t wait to see what happened, if the terrible crash from the oni’s club struck home or not. I whirled and sprinted through the hole left from the fallen Prophet, scrambling over splintered beams and broken jade, whispering an apology as I stepped over a shattered green arm. Then I was outside, and the air was hot and choking. Blinded by tears, I tripped over a plank and skinned my hands when I fell, and the lacquered scroll case rolled away from me, gleaming in the firelight.

My blood chilled. Snatching it up, I half ran, half stumbled into the gardens, past the pond full of dead, floating carp, to the old maple tree leaning against the wall. After quickly tucking the scroll into the furoshiki and the tanto into my obi, I pulled myself up by the gnarled branches, wondering how the once familiar act could feel so strange and surreal. I wouldn’t be doing this ever again.

At the top of the wall, I spared one final look back at my home, the temple I’d lived in all my life, and felt a lump rise to my throat. The pagoda was now a skeletal ruin engulfed by flames, and the fire had spread to the other buildings, including the main hall. I could make out only the roof over the tops of the trees, but a stray ember on one corner had turned into a flame, which would quickly spread and consume the wooden building until there was nothing left. I didn’t dare imagine what was happening inside, the lives that were lost, the monks who stood bravely against a horde of demons. Everyone I’d ever known—Jin, Satoshi, Nitoru, Denga, Master Isao and all the rest—they were gone. They’d gone willingly to their deaths, all to protect the scroll.

A tiny globe of light, pale against the smoke and darkness, rose from the roof of the burning hall. It was joined by another, and then another, until there were more than a dozen glowing orbs rising slowly into the air and leaving trails of light behind them. My throat closed up, and fresh tears streamed down my cheeks. Not one of the spheres of light hesitated or stayed near the temple; all rose steadily toward the stars. They had no regrets, no lingering sorrows or thoughts of vengeance, nothing that tied them to this world. They were free.

Deep inside my chest, a tiny, blue-white flame of anger flickered, burning away the despair, and I breathed deep to banish the tears.

“I won’t fail,” I promised, as the lights drifted slowly away, toward Meido or the Pure Lands, or wherever they were headed. “If...if this is truly my destiny, then I’ll give it my all. Don’t worry, Master Isao, everyone. I’ll find the Steel Feather temple and protect the scroll, I promise.”

My words had no effect on the rapidly fading lights. They continued rising into the sky until they were no larger than the stars themselves, and disappeared.

I blinked rapidly. Safe journey, everyone. May we meet again, in this life or the next.

A hiss in the gardens drew my attention. Looking down, I met the crimson eyes of a demon, who jerked up as he saw me, as well. As it gave a shrill cry of alarm and raised its weapon, I dropped to the ground outside the wall and sprinted into the forest.

7

An Unexpected Proposal

The path had disappeared.

I hesitated in the shadows of the forest, listening, my hand curled around my sword hilt. Sometime during my dash up the mountain, the trail I’d been following had either vanished or I’d lost it somehow, for uninterrupted woods surrounded me, dark and thick. It wasn’t terribly problematic; I could still hear the roar of a conflagration, and the breeze through the branches carried the scent of smoke and blood. I was going in the right direction.

I feared what I would find when I got there.

There was a rustle in the bushes ahead, and Kamigoroshi gave a warning pulse, just as something exploded from the darkness and lunged at me. My blade cleared its sheath in an instant, whipping up toward my attacker’s face. It—she?—yelped and skidded to a halt, as my brain caught up to my reflexes. Hakaimono roared, goading me to continue the motion, to bathe the steel in blood. I wrenched myself from the howling bloodlust and forced my hands to stop.

The blade froze an inch from her neck. Panting, I looked across the glowing edge of the sword, into the face and wide black eyes of a girl.

She was my age, perhaps a bit younger. Small, petite, wearing a short crimson robe pattered with white swirls. Her black hair hung loose around her shoulders and down her back, and her large dark eyes, peering up at me, were round with shock.

For a moment, we stared at each other, bathed in the faint purple light of Kamigoroshi. Her face was dirty, smudged with ash and grime, and she was breathing hard, as if she had been fleeing the fire with the rest of the wildlife.

Then there was a snap in the trees behind her, and I realized why she’d been running.

“Get back,” I said, and shoved her behind me, as an amanjaku leaped through the bushes with a howl, a sickle raised over its head. I smacked the curved blade aside and slashed Kamigoroshi across its face, making it shriek and reel away. More demons swarmed from the bushes, stabbing and hacking wildly as they rushed forward. They died on my sword as I carved limbs from bodies and heads from torsos, black demon blood arcing into the air. Hakaimono reveled in their deaths, but I kept myself detached from the demon’s rage. I was the hand that wielded Kamigoroshi, nothing more. I felt nothing as I sent the creatures back to Jigoku.

When the last demon fell, I flicked steaming blood from my sword, sheathed Kamigoroshi despite the protests in my mind and looked around for the girl.

She peered from behind a tree trunk, watching me with big dark eyes. Surprised, I turned to face her fully. I had half expected her to be gone, fleeing the forest while the demons were busy attacking me. I caught the glint of metal in her hand and saw the hilt of a tanto clutched in her fist. Whether it was meant for me or the demons, I wasn’t certain.

“Merciful Jinkei,” she whispered, sounding breathless. Her eyes shone as she gazed around, at the fading tendrils of darkness on the wind. “You...that was...” Blinking, she looked up at me, her expression caught between awe and fear. “Who are you?”

Nothing. Nobody. A shadow on the wall, empty and unimportant. I turned away, toward the sound of distant flames. “Run,” I told the girl, not looking back. “Get out of here. Go to the village at the bottom of the mountain. You should be safe there.”

“Wait!” she cried as I started forward. I paused, but did not turn back. “You can’t go that way,” she said, and I heard her emerge from behind the tree. “It’s too dangerous. There are more demons, a whole horde of them. And there’s an oni!”

An oni. My eyes narrowed, even as Hakaimono gave the strongest flare of excitement I had ever felt from it. I had been killing dangerous yokai for the Shadow Clan since I was thirteen, the newest in a long line of Kage demonslayers to wield Kamigoroshi, but I had never faced a real oni. From what my sensei had told me, the greatest demons of Jigoku were nothing like the monsters I’d fought before. Tough, savage and virtually unstoppable, able to regenerate wounds, broken bones, even severed limbs at an astonishing rate. They were difficult to defeat, even with Kamigoroshi. In the past, more than one demonslayer who had gone to fight an oni had not survived the battle.

Fortunately, oni encounters were rare, as summoning one from Jigoku and binding the savage demon to your will required incredible power. Unfortunately, it meant that whomever had sent an oni here, to this forest, was likely after the same thing I was. Lady Hanshou hadn’t told me why she wanted this particular scroll, nor was it my place to ask. My mission was to retrieve the scroll, no matter what obstacles stood in my way.

“This oni,” I asked the girl, whose gaze I could still feel on my back. “Where is it?”

“The temple,” she replied, and her voice came out slightly choked. “At the top of the mountain. It killed everyone there and set the whole place on fire. Nothing is left.”

My spirits sank. If the demons had attacked and destroyed the temple, then the scroll was already gone. Destroyed, or in the hands of the oni. Setting my jaw, I headed into the trees. I had to see if the scroll was still there, if I could save it. And if the oni did indeed possess the scroll, I would challenge the demon and take it back, or die trying.

“Baka!” Something grabbed the hem of my jacket, tugging me to a halt. I spun, barely stopping myself from drawing Kamigoroshi and slicing my assailant in half. “Didn’t you hear me?” the girl asked, her dark gaze now wide with fear. “There’s an army of demons and an oni that way. If you go to the temple, they’ll kill you, like they did everyone else.”

Her eyes watered, moisture spilling down one cheek. I suddenly understood. “You came from the temple,” I stated quietly. “You saw everything.”

She nodded, swiping a dirty sleeve across her face. “Everyone died,” she whispered. “I barely got away. My master sacrificed himself so that I could escape. He fought the oni himself, though he knew it was going to kill him.”

“What were the demons after?” I asked, watching her closely. Perhaps, if she had come from the temple, she knew about the scroll, or where it was located. “Why did they attack?” I pressed. “Did they take anything?”

For just a moment, she hesitated. Her cheeks paled and she looked up at me with those dark eyes. For some reason, my skin prickled, and I fought the urge to look away. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t know why they came, or what they wanted. I just know my temple is gone and demons killed everyone I’ve ever cared for. And if you go up there now, you’ll die, too.” She paused again, then held out her hand as if coming to a decision. “Come with me,” she said, to my surprise. “Before the demons find us. I can’t... I don’t want to be alone right now. We can head to the village and figure out what to do from there.”

“No.” I stepped back, away from her. “You can keep running. Get out of the forest. But I have business at the temple, something I must confirm.”

“What?” She stared at me in disbelief, as I turned and began walking away. “You can’t be serious. What is so important that you would risk your head getting crushed by an oni? Wait!”

Footsteps shuffled after mine. I turned once more and raised Kamigoroshi, making her stumble to a halt. “Don’t follow me,” I warned, as her gaze fell to the blade. “Go to the village. Warn them about the attack. Forget what you saw here.” Sheathing the sword, I headed into the darkness, toward the temple and the battle that awaited me at the top. “What happens now isn’t your concern.”

“The scroll isn’t there anymore.”

I stopped. Slowly, I turned around. The girl stood in the same place, watching me with a wary, almost defiant expression, her jaw set. “The scroll,” she repeated, so there would be no doubt. “You won’t find it. It’s no longer at the temple.”

“Where is it?”

She hesitated. Drawing my sword, I walked toward her. Her face paled and she backed away, but hit a tree after a few steps. “I don’t know,” she began, and froze as I placed the edge of Kamigoroshi against her neck. “Wait, please! You don’t understand.”

“Where is the scroll?” I asked again, stepping close. “Tell me or I’ll kill you.”

“It’s gone!” the girl burst out. “It’s not here anymore. Master Isao...he sensed the demons coming. He knew they wanted the scroll, so he sent it away. A...a few days ago.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

I tilted the blade up so it pressed lightly under her chin, and she gasped. “I don’t know!” she insisted, raising her head to escape the sword. “Master Isao didn’t tell me where it’s located. But...I know who does.”

“Who?”

She paused, her dark eyes flicking to mine over the blade. Again, I felt that odd flutter beneath my skin, reacting to her presence. “How do I know you won’t kill me if I tell you?”

“I give you my word,” I told her. “On my honor, if you tell me what I want, I won’t kill you.”

Carefully, she shook her head. “I need more than that, samurai,” she said, making me frown. A warrior’s vow was absolute, his honor preventing any hint of betrayal, and it was an insult to imply otherwise. To a samurai who broke his promise, the shame would be so great that seppuku—ritually killing himself—was the only answer.

Of course, I was shinobi, a shadow warrior, and followed a different code than the samurai. We operated in darkness, performing tasks that would make an honorable samurai cringe in horror and revulsion. But the girl didn’t know that.

She continued to watch me, her head and back pressed to the trunk, chin raised to escape the lethal blade against her throat. I kept a tight hold on the sword, both in my hand and in my mind, for Hakaimono was goading me to kill this insubordinate peasant nobody. “You can kill me now,” she said, “but then you’ll never find what you’re looking for.” I narrowed my eyes, and she shivered under my gaze, seeming to lose courage, before taking a deep breath and staring at me again. “I have...a proposal for you,” she announced. “So please listen before you decide to cut off my head. The demons will come after me. Once they figure out the scroll isn’t here, they’ll hunt me down. Right now, the scroll is on its way to another temple, a hidden temple, far away. I need to get to that temple, to warn the monks of the demon attack. I promised my mentor I would.”

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