by Anna Frost
Captured. Starved. Possessed. I had to get out or be eaten.
Akakiba’s multiple tails were swishing in what was likely irritation. Giggling, Sanae said, Ah, you have three tails!
What? Akakiba said. Then, sounding surprised as he looked over his shoulder, Huh. I do have three.
I have five, Sanae said. I always knew I was the strongest.
This means nothing! It’s a manifestation of the subconscious mind.
Your subconscious thinks you’re not as good as me, Brother.
A horrible suspicion formed in Yuki’s mind. Maybe there should have been five tails. He stared at Akakiba. “Is it because the first sword bit you? I saw it take energy.”
Akakiba stared back, ears gone flat. It could be.
Sanae rounded on her brother, tone sharp and horrified. You never said you let it feed on you! You idiot! It could have killed you!
It didn’t ask for my consent, Akakiba snapped. I hardly felt different, after.
I can’t believe you—
They bickered on until Yuki clapped his hands together loudly. “I agree it’s worrying, but can we focus on the most urgent matter first? A demon kidnapped his body! Can’t we get it back?”
I plan to do so, Akakiba said. But I thought you might like to know where I am. The sword is there, along with the man I believe to be the mastermind in this distasteful affair. Taking the sword away from the energy sink has greatly diminished the danger of its proximity, so I can go back.
Sanae bounced, her paws leaving no prints in the snow. I’ll come along! You get in horrible trouble when I’m not there. Show me where it is.
Akakiba looked around. I believe it was that way.
“You believe?” Yuki repeated. “Did you lose your own body?”
I know where my body is, thank you. I merely need to recall in which direction the place is.
Now that the shock had worn off, Yuki realized the temperature was absolutely frigid. His fingers were stiff, his ears almost burning. He pulled his blanket tighter against himself and set to rebuilding the dying fire.
The cold air irritated his lungs as he worked, making him cough.
It’s too cold for a human out here, Sanae said.
I agree, Akakiba said. Yuki, can you find your way back to Chiyako’s or do you need Sanae to guide you?
They argued. Eventually, Yuki yielded because his throat was too raw for further argument. He packed and mounted. The siblings escorted him until early sunlight appeared to light the path.
We should go, Sanae said.
Yes, Akakiba said. Keep going, Yuki, and don’t delay.
Turning back to spite them wouldn’t have been sensible or useful in any way, so he didn’t. He went to Drac and, he had to admit, felt tremendously better when he was welcomed with a scaly hug and a wonderfully hot cup of tea offered by Chiyako.
By the time his extremities had thawed, he’d started to fret. Why hadn’t Sanae reported back? What if they couldn’t find the body? What if it had been killed?
The sisters were present in the room when Akakiba and Sanae finally returned. Ari hardly reacted, but Chiyako jumped.
Hello, Sanae said brightly. I’m Sanae. Pleased to meet you. This is my brother Akakiba, but I think you already know him.
Yuki shook his head, despairing of his friends and their lack of interest in the benefits of discretion. At this rate, the whole country would soon know fox spirits were real.
I can’t waste my chance, Akakiba said as he began to pace. My body is weak. I must wait until they have fed it sufficiently, and snatch it from them. They seem keen to keep it safe, now that I have gone from it. They’re not even using it at the moment.
I’m the one who pointed out it was best to wait, Sanae said to Yuki in a fake whisper. That brother of mine would have jumped right in, and put himself in a position twice as worse by letting them know he can go in and out at will.
I have reasons to worry for the safety of my body, Akakiba shot back.
Sanae’s tails curled about her sitting form, her attitude conveying smugness.
“There must be a reason they’re keeping it,” Yuki said, unsure what to do about the warring siblings except try to distract them. “We might like to know what it is.”
Time to spy on the spies, Sanae said gleefully, vanishing at once.
Hyperactive red-haired child, Akakiba said, disappearing too.
“I don’t understand why they’re fighting, suddenly,” Yuki said to no one in particular.
“They’re acting like normal siblings, to my eye,” Chiyako said. She sat with needle and thread, mending torn clothes. “Although normally the siblings who behave that way are a bit younger.”
“Humans,” Drac said, as if no other explanation was required. Mentally, the dragon pushed on him a tad harder, pressing him to acknowledge the growing hunger in his belly. If Yuki wanted to stay awake during winter, he needed to keep Drac warm and awake, and an awake dragon was a hungry dragon.
Sorry, he sent to Drac mentally, and, aloud, “I didn’t mean to neglect you.” He caressed Drac’s soft underbelly to make amends, feeling how pleasant it was through the mind link.
“You’ve been troubled. But now you know the fox is well, food would be appreciated.”
Yuki had never learned the bow, for the simple reason Akakiba had no skill with it and couldn’t teach him. Since hunting with a sword was impractical at best, he had to come up with a different way of capturing the food Drac needed. He pondered the problem.
“Are mice good food?” Ari inquired. “We have lots of mice in the back of the house. I know how to make traps.”
“Show me how,” Yuki said.
The traps were half-filled buckets of water with food hung above with a string. When mice attempted to get at the food by perching on the rim of the bucket and reaching out for it or jumping at it, they fell in the bucket and drowned.
In an entire day of efforts, they caught three fresh mice. Overnight, they doubled their catch. After that, Drac was content to eat the mice Ari brought and Yuki’s help became superfluous.
In some way, it irritated him to have been rendered useless. He could neither help Akakiba and Sanae in their spying efforts nor devote his time to feeding Drac. The horses alone needed him, for they had run out of hay. He made the trip down to the village the next day, taking advantage of clear skies and nonexistent wind. Arriving late, he begged shelter at the first home he reached. He was found there by Akakiba in the early hours of the morning.
Ah, here you are. They’re moving my body. They appear to be heading for Kyoto.
“Isn’t that where Aito and Jien are meant to go next, to investigate the inn? I thought that’s what Sanae said. Is there a link?”
We don’t know. They haven’t spoken of their goal. The mastermind likes to keep his secrets.
“Will you seize your body then?”
Soon, yes. We’ll wait until they’re some distance away from the clan house, for safety.
“What of the sword? Is it going to Kyoto?”
No. The mastermind is keeping it. It’s frustrating, as it appears to be the original stolen sword. Its quality is much higher than the one we recovered.
“We need to get it away from them.”
Agreed. If it seemed possible, I would have done it while my body was inside. But there are dozens of shinobi there and they like to install traps in their homes. I likely wouldn’t have been able to escape the cell anyhow. Better I secure my body first, and the sword second.
“You mean you’ll turn back and attack them on your own terms, don’t you? I should meet up with you to help.”
Stay with the girls. It’s safer.
“Isn’t that what you thought when you tricked me into sleep and left to get the sword alone?” Yu
ki snapped. “Look what happened to you! You need backup and I can provide it.”
You need to stay where it is warm and safe.
The fox disappeared, cutting the discussion short.
“Bastard!” Yuki said to the wall, quivering in indignation. Akakiba meant to leave him behind again, that was what it was.
The logical part of his mind insisted Akakiba’s recent behavior must be a result of the trauma of Sanae’s body-death. Losing a loved one could make anyone protective of their remaining friends. It wasn’t rejection but a misguided attempt to keep him safe.
Understanding the situation didn’t make him any less angry about it. He didn’t want to be treated like a thing to be protected. He wanted to help. No, more than that. He wanted Akakiba to welcome and value his help.
Unable to return to dreamland, he left not long thereafter with as much hay and soybeans as could be bought with his coins, as well as with an extra bag of rice. Chiyako claimed her plot of rice and vegetable garden had yielded sufficient food to feed him the entire winter if necessary, but he saw no need to abuse her hospitality.
Halfway through the trip back, his connection with Drac returned to its usual strength. The illusion of crunching on the tiny body of a wriggling mouse came to him, along with a spurt of hot blood and a deep feeling of satisfaction. It made him want to eat meat, a craving to which he had yet to become accustomed. As best he knew, people bonded to small-sized dragons didn’t feel the need to eat helpless creatures, so why did he?
Don’t compare me to dragons too dim to speak, Drac said in his head, conveying indignation. They weren’t real words, but easy to interpret all the same.
He could feel how staying near the fire made Drac’s hide dry and itchy, how he longed for the relief a bath would provide.
Ask Ari to help, he sent. You’ll have your bath.
The road rose quickly, winding round the mountainside. The further he went, the deeper the snow was. The horses kept to a fast pace, content to be stretching their limbs.
Alone on the road with a pair of beasts who made for poor conversation, Yuki pondered. Should he try to catch up with Akakiba? He could make himself useful if he arrived in time.
Though Akakiba might strangle him, afterwards.
He arrived after nightfall to find Chiyako, Ari, and Drac deep in sleep around the dying fire. He stoked the fire with wood taken from a side room given over to wood storage, checked the water buckets for fresh mice—they were getting harder to catch, as the stupid ones were dead already—and guiltily raided Chiyako’s supply of prepared rice balls, meant to be snacks. He didn’t touch the sisters’ other supplies: pots of beans, radishes, mushrooms, nuts, and even a stash of dried persimmons.
Dried fish and seaweed were conspicuously absent. So far from the sea and without an easily accessible river, the girls couldn’t obtain such things on their own. Likely the family had once obtained such things from the village, but these days the idiot villagers didn’t want to do business with the “cursed” girls. With the source of the “curse” gone, the dead area would spring back to life. The idiots would have to change their minds.
Dressed warmly, with a fresh supply of rice balls and a modest bag of uncooked rice, he stepped back outside without waking anyone. He stopped by the stable to pick up their supply pack, useful because of its pot, bowls, and tea leaves. The horses were in their stalls, happily munching on boiled soybeans; he wouldn’t need them.
Information gleaned from Akakiba and Sanae told him which direction he needed to go.
Drac’s mind stirred sleepily against his. Where are you going? Come back.
He conveyed the idea of a sword.
Come back, Drac insisted, conveying the idea of danger.
He radiated stubbornness in answer.
Deep cold began to seep into his bones—not his physical ones, but Drac’s. The dragon had gone somewhere unheated, and his cold-blooded body couldn’t defend against low temperatures. Yuki’s sleepiness shot upward. He had to stop, rub his eyes furiously, and protest, Stop!
Come back.
“Curse it,” he said aloud to the trees. “I’m not going to be in danger! I won’t do anything without Akakiba! I’ll be fine so stop worrying!”
Drac’s answering unhappiness was muddled with sleepiness.
He trudged on, worrying his lower lip and refusing to let his eyelids close as they wanted. He fell twice, but each time climbed back to his feet and moved on.
Admitting defeat, Drac crawled back to the fire. The dragon knew if he pulled Yuki into sleep now, Yuki might die of exposure.
I’m sorry, Drac.
No answer, not even a hint of feeling. Heart constricted, Yuki plodded onward. He knew Akakiba well, knew the fearless idiot would attack regardless of whether or not he had a reasonable chance of successfully retrieving the sword.
He wanted to help. It might not change the odds by a significant margin, but he’d be there.
Chapter Seventeen
Akakiba
The convoy was composed of a cart drawn by a sturdy horse and four mounted men to guard it. The possessed shinobi named Mamoru both drove the cart and cared for Akakiba’s inert body. The body was handcuffed, wrapped in blankets, and regularly given water, which, Mamoru told the others, was drugged to keep the captive unconscious. The lie kept the normal humans from asking why the prisoner never roused.
The stratagem seemed unlikely to work for weeks, the time it would take to reach Kyoto at the pace a cart-drawing horse could sustain. Sooner or later, the humans would get suspicious. Mamoru must have realized this because his face was perpetually drawn into an expression of worry.
“Cheer up, Mamoru,” one of the guards said. “You’ll do fine on your mission. Yoshio wouldn’t have sent you if he thought you couldn’t get it done.”
Akakiba, invisibly following the convoy in what Sanae called the “mist form,” watched over his physical body’s well-being. It was odd to see his own face without the distortion produced by water and other reflective surfaces, to be able to study the lines around his eyes and mouth. He looked grim, like a man who never laughed. The remains of his injuries, such as the still-oozing gash on his head and the burn along his jaw, hardly made him look friendlier.
Did he always look like he was attending a funeral or planning one for whoever he was looking at? Perhaps it explained Jien’s neverending attempts to cheer him.
Later, when the convoy stopped, the humans huddled around a giant fire while Mamoru sat on the cart forcing soup down the inert body’s throat. Half of the bowl ended up staining the blankets instead.
Akakiba paced and watched the night through but never found the opportunity he needed to snatch his body back. Perhaps he should have enjoyed this painfree vacation, but he needed to return home to his flesh. He needed it like a drowning man needed air. Resisting the urge to go back in immediately required every shred of self-control he possessed.
Spirit senses were strange and confusing, to the point he had a headache without even having a head. He could “see” and “hear,” but not quite like a physical person did. Colors weren’t like colors and sounds were subtly wrong. He was overly aware of other spirits and driven to distraction by the sight of what Sanae called life sparks, the tiny bits of spirit energy that existed in every living thing. She hadn’t been kidding about those—even bugs had one!
Finally, one night’s stop presented an opportunity. He coiled in anticipation, watching from behind the tree line as the shinobi party left the cart almost unattended in the miserable stable by the inn. Mamoru and a single guard remained with the cart.
Sanae should have been here to help, but since she hadn’t yet returned from checking in with the others, he was prepared to act alone. His body had been fed sufficiently to be in working order as far as he could tell. He could easily overpo
wer two humans, even if one was possessed.
“I need the outhouse,” Mamoru said. “I’ll only be a moment.”
Akakiba watched him head for the privy with exultation. He couldn’t have hoped for a better opportunity.
He zoomed at his body—and hit an invisible stone wall. Ow! He tried again, and again, from every angle. He couldn’t get in, not even through the mouth that hung half open. He studied his body, bewildered. What was wrong? Had his body forgotten him?
Ah! Something shone at his body’s neck. The human guard wasn’t watching so Akakiba did as Sanae had shown him and made himself physical. He pawed at the object to drag it into sight.
It was a wooden pendant with a protective spell on it, one of those sold at shrines. They were supposed to protect people from demon possession, but Akakiba had never known they were this effective.
He yanked the glyphed pendant off with his teeth and tossed it away. He didn’t want to contemplate what would have happened if they’d had the brains and means to etch the protective spell on something harder to remove than a pendant, like a metal collar or his very skin.
His flesh welcomed him. He sank in as a tired man sinks in a hot bath, tingling with pleasure. True sensations returned to him—the feel of soft blankets against his skin, the sound of crackling fire, and the smell of rice arising from the guard’s meal. Pain made itself known from various half-healed injuries, but battle fever was already rising and eclipsing it. He was whole again and it was wonderful.
The lone guard stood with his back to the cart, watching the door. In a move as smooth as inhumanly possible, Akakiba lunged at him.
Tackled from behind, the guard fell face first against the ground. He had been eating; he gagged on his food, which prevented him from crying out for help. A solid whack to the head from Akakiba’s bound hands put him out of commission. It was uncertain whether he would wake—there was always risk with head injuries—but Akakiba couldn’t afford to be gentle.
