by Julie Kagawa
15
The Consequences of Crumbs
My stomach dropped as several bows were aimed at Tatsumi. The warrior crouched, hand hovering over his sword hilt, waiting for them. My heart raced, and I felt the surge of fox magic spread to my fingers, making me clench my fists. For a split second, everything held its breath, and the silence drew out like a taut bowstring.
“Ah, the hell with this.”
Abruptly, Okame spun, plunged an arrow into the throat of the bandit beside him, jerked it out then strung it to his bow as the man dropped with a startled gurgle. Raising the weapon, he loosed the string, and one archer at the top of the steps who had been taking aim at Tatsumi toppled backward, an arrow jutting from his middle.
“Okame!” bellowed the bandit leader. “You filthy traitor! How dare you turn on us?”
“Hey, I’m an honorless ronin dog, remember?” Okame called back, grinning savagely as he sent an arrow toward his former leader. Noboru swiftly raised his club, and the dart struck the wooden head. “That’s what we do!”
“Kill him!” Noboru roared at the remaining archer, and started down the steps. “Both of them!”
Tatsumi’s sword hissed free, as the warrior leaped up the steps to confront the huge bandit striding toward us. Fear shot through me as Noboru swung his club in two hands, sweeping it through the air at Tatsumi’s head. The warrior ducked, and the bandit struck the trunk of a tree with a loud crack, leaving a massive dent in the wood. Kamigoroshi flashed, cutting across Noboru’s bulging stomach, and the bandit howled in pain and rage.
A curse behind me caught my attention. Near the bottom of the steps, Okame was on his back, bow raised and desperately blocking the other bandit’s sword as it hacked and stabbed at him. Tatsumi was busy with the bandit leader, and there was no one else around who could help. If I didn’t aid the ronin, he could die.
I drew my tanto and stared at the knife for a moment, hands shaking. I had never used it against a person, but I couldn’t employ fox magic or kitsune-bi now. Striding down the steps, I raised the knife and slashed at the bandit attacking Okame, cutting his arm. He jerked back with a yelp, glaring at me, giving Okame enough time to sit up, draw the sword at his belt and stab him through the chest.
“Arigatou, Yumeko-san,” Okame gasped, scrambling upright. There was a gash across his cheek, and a puncture wound seeping blood over his vest, but he was still grinning as he shook his head at me. “That was one hell of a crumb—aagh!”
He jerked upright, grimacing, as an arrow streaked from the top of the steps and hit him in the back. I caught him as he fell forward, and staggered under his weight. He clutched at my robes, loosening the furoshiki, and something dropped from the wrapping cloth. The shiny lacquered scroll case hit the top of the steps with a faint clink, then rolled steadily toward the edge of the staircase.
My heart turned to ice. Swiftly, I stepped on the case, halting it before it could drop off the edge. In my arms, the ronin was a heavy, gasping weight, as we both teetered edge of the stairs.
“Okame-san,” I gritted out, gazing desperately at the ronin while trying to keep us both upright and the scroll from rolling down the steps. “All you all right? Can you stand?”
He raised his head with a shudder. “Kuso,” he swore, staggering back a pace. “Dammit, I guess I should’ve known better...than to turn my back.”
Whirling, he raised his bow and fired at the top of the steps. The last archer, who had been taking aim at Tatsumi, jerked as an arrow hit him in the throat, and toppled backward into the brush. At the same time, I bent and grabbed the scroll from the edge of the staircase, then stuffed it in my robes as I bounced back up. Safe! I think. Let’s hope Tatsumi was too busy to see that.
A thunderous crash came from the center of the stairs as Noboru pitched forward, hit the ground and rolled the rest of the way to the bottom. His blank, beady eyes peered up at us as his head flopped to the side, a line of crimson splitting his face nearly in two. I shivered and looked away, as Okame let out a soft curse.
“Yep...” He sighed, staggering back a pace. “That was...incredibly stupid, Okame.”
He collapsed to the stones.
I looked around for Tatsumi. Near the top of the steps, the demonslayer calmly flicked blood from his sword and turned to me, crimson streaked across his face and forearms. His eyes glowed purple in the fading light. I tensed, wondering if he would say anything about the scroll or what had happened with the ronin, but he only sheathed his weapon and turned away. “We’re done here,” he said quietly. “Let’s go, before it gets too dark.”
I turned back toward Okame, crumpled at the bottom of the stairs, and my stomach twisted. “Tatsumi, wait,” I called. He paused, and I nodded at the ronin’s still, bloody form. “What about Okame?”
He blinked and tilted his head. “What about him?”
“We can’t leave him here. He’s injured.”
“He tried to kill us,” Tatsumi said, his voice flat. “He led us into an ambush. Those bandits would have shown us no mercy.”
“He helped us, in the end,” I argued. “He’s not like the others. I don’t think we should leave him here to die.” Tatsumi didn’t move, and I frowned at him. “Fine. You go on ahead. I’ll catch up when I can.”
I walked back to the fallen ronin, then knelt at his side to examine the arrow. It jutted out below his left shoulder blade, the shaft sitting in the center of a dark circle of blood, spreading slowly across his vest.
“If you’re going to yank that out, just do it quick,” came a tight voice. I blinked and looked down to see that the ronin’s eyes were open, gazing back at me. “Grab it as close to the head as you can, and give it a good hard tug.”
“Won’t it hurt?”
“Nah, I get shot like this all the time. Sometimes I shoot myself with arrows just so I can rip them out again.”
“Really?” I gaped at him. “How is that even possible? Is it some sort of exercise? Do you also try to dodge the arrows or catch them as they come in?”
“I’m being sarcastic, Yumeko-san.” Okame gave a pained smile. “Of course it’s going to hurt. But it’s got to come out sometime. I can’t walk to town with an arrow sticking out of me. Just yank it out and leave me here. I’ll be fine.”
Gazing at the length of wood jutting from the ronin’s back, I hesitated, gathering my courage for the deed. Taking a deep breath, I started to reach for the shaft, when a shadow fell over us. I glanced up just in time to see Tatsumi reach down, grab the arrow and yank it out in one swift motion.
“Aagh!” yelped the ronin, jerking against the stones. “Kuso! Ow!” Panting, he glared back at us. “Dammit, Kage, if you’re going to kill me, just cut off my head and be done with it. You don’t have to torture me with false hope.”
Tatsumi tossed the bloody arrow to the ground. “If I was going to kill you, you’d already be dead,” he stated flatly. “Where’s your hideout?”
“Our hideout? Why?” Okame struggled painfully to a sitting position, clenching his jaw. “This is all of the gang. There’s no one left for you to slaughter.”
“Because I don’t want to carry your bleeding carcass to town once you collapse from blood loss.” Tatsumi crossed his arms, gazing up the steps. “Because Yumeko refuses to leave you in the road to die. If your hideout is close, better to go there. I assume you have basic necessities like water and bandages.”
“Water, yes. Bandages...eh, I’m sure I can find something.”
I blinked up at the warrior, surprised. “You’re staying?”
Cold violet eyes regarded me without expression. “I promised I would, didn’t I? I said I would escort you to the capital, and I have yet to repay my debt. So...” He reached down and, in one smooth motion, grabbed the ronin, hauled him to his feet and slung his arm around his shoulders. The ronin yelped and swore, then made a comment about being bett
er off dead. Tatsumi ignored him. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
16
Yokai in the Moonlight
Master Ichiro would beat you senseless if he saw you now.
I ignored the thought, concentrating on keeping myself and the bleeding ronin upright as we walked through the forest, eventually coming upon the hideout in a stand of trees. The bandits had taken shelter in an abandoned woodsman’s cottage not far from where they’d staged their ambush. The cottage itself was ancient and run-down; the veranda was sagging, the railings rotted away, and the thatch roof was full of holes. Inside it was even worse, the floor covered with thin mattresses and strewn with dirty bowls, loose chopsticks, dice, blankets and empty sake bottles. It smelled of sweat, urine and too many unwashed humans in the same room at once. I dropped the ronin on one of the dirty mattresses, then retreated outside to the veranda, leaving Yumeko to bind his wounds.
Leaning against a rotten post, I gazed up at the sky, watching the sun set behind the trees, as grim thoughts swirled around my head.
What are you doing, Tatsumi? You should have killed him. Now another has become involved, and if the clan finds out they might order you to kill him anyway.
Which, under normal circumstances, wouldn’t bother me. The death of a single ronin, disgraced and alone, meant nothing, to anyone. Except, perhaps, Yumeko. For reasons I couldn’t comprehend, she had taken a liking to the dishonored bandit. That, or she was incapable of minding her own affairs. If the clan ordered me to kill him, I would obey, as I had always done. But it might frighten or enrage the girl into leaving, and I couldn’t afford that, either.
I sighed. Everything was getting complicated. First Yumeko, now this ronin. This is why the clan warned you about attachments. You are a weapon; attachments will only slow you down and make you question your objective. Remember, your loyalty is to the Kage, nothing else.
A yelp came from inside the cottage, followed by Yumeko’s hasty apology. I shook my head. It didn’t matter. The ronin was a momentary distraction. Once we were done here, we could get back on the road to the capital and then the Steel Feather temple. I just had to endure until then.
There was a flutter of wings, and a large black crow alighted on the railing a few yards away. Lowering its head, it pecked curiously at the rotting wood, then regarded me with dark, beady eyes. We stared at each other, unmoving in the evening shadows. I thought I could sense a presence behind the crow’s unblinking stare, another pair of eyes watching me from the unknown.
Palming my single kunai, I hurled it at the railing. It struck the wood beneath the crow with a thunk, and the bird took to the air with a startled, indignant caw. I watched it flap away over the rooftop, then I rose and walked to the railing to pull the knife from the wood.
“Tatsumi.”
Yumeko came onto the veranda, the weathered boards creaking softly under her weight, and I slipped the kunai back into my sleeve. “The wound has been cleaned and taken care of,” she told me. “We can go, but Okame says the nearest town is a half day’s walk from here. We might as well spend the night and leave tomorrow morning.”
I stifled another sigh, seeing the pale outline of the moon through the branches of a tree. “If that’s what you want.”
She cocked her head, as if she had been expecting me to argue. “And you won’t try to kill Okame-san?” she asked.
“No.”
“Or leave in the middle of the night?”
“No.”
“Or tie him to a tree and hang sweet potatoes from his ears until the squirrels crawl all over him?”
“...no.”
“Oh, that’s a relief. Though the last one would have been slightly amusing. Denga threatened me with that, once. I didn’t think he was serious, but I could never be sure with Denga-san.”
“Oi, Kage.” The ronin poked his head through the doorframe, smirking at me, and held up a small white bottle. “Care for a drink?” he asked, not seeming hindered by his wounds at all. “We lifted a couple barrels from a cart a few days ago, and I hate to let good sake go to waste. Come on, I’ll pour for you.” He grinned in a rather wolfish fashion, slightly pointed canines glinting in the darkness. “To show my appreciation that you didn’t cut off my head and leave it in the sun to rot.”
I looked away. “I’ll pass.” Drinking sake, shochu and other alcoholic beverages was generally frowned upon by my instructors. My senses had to remain sharp and ready, not dulled by drunkenness.
“All right.” The ronin shrugged. “Your loss, but it’s unlucky to drink sake alone. Come on, then, Yumeko-chan. Guess we’ll have to drink the rest of it ourselves.”
“I’ve never had sake before,” Yumeko said, sounding eager as their footsteps retreated into the hut. “The monks used to serve it for special occasions, but they always kept it away from me. Denga said that he’d sooner set his room on fire himself than let me get a taste for it.”
“Oho, a sake virgin.” The ronin’s voice was gleeful. “Well, you don’t know what you’ve been missing, Yumeko-chan. And those monks of yours sound terribly dull. Never let you have sake, what a crime. We’ll have to remedy that right away.”
I put a hand over my eyes, suddenly regretting that I’d promised not to kill the ronin. Protecting the girl was becoming more and more difficult; not that I cared what she did, but she was beautiful and naive and, by his own admission, the ronin had no honor left to his name. A vision abruptly came to mind: the two of them, together, alone and drunk on sake.
Setting my jaw, I pushed myself off the railing to walk back into the hut.
There was a shimmer in the corner of my eye, and a small white ball rolled toward me down the veranda.
I didn’t step back, though my hand dropped to the hilt of my sword. We weren’t alone. Perhaps the hut was home to a yurei or other restless ghost, though how the bandits had stayed here for so long without encountering the spirit, I wasn’t sure. The ball rolled silently across the wooden boards until it veered away and dropped off the edge. Bouncing once, it continued to glide across the yard until it hit the edge of the woodpile.
A child stepped from behind the logs, picked up the ball and smiled at me. A boy of five or six, wearing a black robe with sleeves that were too big, wooden geta clogs and a tattered straw hat. His head was shaved, only a tuft of dark hair clinging to his forehead, and beneath that, a single enormous eye, dominating the top half of his face, stared at me across the yard.
Hakaimono stirred. Not a child. Not even human. A yokai, but one that wasn’t particularly threatening. I sensed the demon’s disappointment; if the yokai wasn’t menacing, there was no reason to fight. But at the same time, I couldn’t ignore a strange yokai that had appeared out of nowhere. Especially when, sitting on a stump at the edge of the woodpile, it was obviously waiting for me.
“K-konbanwa, Kage-san,” the yokai greeted, and bowed as I approached. That single bright eye continued to watch me from beneath the brim of his hat. “Isn’t it a nice evening?”
“Who are you?”
The one-eyed boy cringed at my flat tone. Leaning back, he reached into his robe and drew out a small lacquered box. Pulling off the lid revealed a white, squarish lump of tofu resting inside, and he held the box to me in both claws. “A gift,” he announced with another bow. “Or a peace offering. To show I mean no harm. I am an insignificant nothing, an unimportant speck, not worth the great Kage demonslayer’s time. So please do not have Kamigoroshi cut off my head.”
Hakaimono scoffed in wordless disgust; apparently it did not believe this yokai to be worth killing. “If you truly mean no harm, you have nothing to fear from me,” I told the creature, ignoring the offered tofu. “But you waited until I was alone to show yourself, so I assume you’re here for a reason. What do you want?”
“Kage-san is truly merciful.” The yokai sat up, and a fat red tongue slithered between his
lips, curled around the tofu and slurped it into his mouth. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he regarded me with that single huge eye that didn’t hold an ounce of childlike innocence.
“My master sent me here with a message for the great Kage demonslayer,” the yokai stated. “He knows what it is you seek, and he warns that Kage-san should be careful, for there are others searching for it, as well. Thieves, mystics and daimyo alike—many have heard the legend of the Dragon’s prayer and are scouring the land for the pieces of the scroll.”
The Dragon’s prayer? Was that what Lady Hanshou had sent me for? I knew the scroll had to be important; if the daimyo of the Shadow Clan had sent me to retrieve it, then she was expecting trouble of the supernatural variety. Running into a horde of amanjaku near the temple had confirmed that suspicion, but that didn’t tell me anything about the scroll itself. Dragon’s prayer, I thought. An ancient relic of immense power? A priceless scripture lost to the ages? I wondered what it really was, and why someone had sent a horde of lesser demons—and according to Yumeko, an oni, the most powerful of Jigoku’s terrors—to acquire it.
Though it wasn’t my place to wonder. My mission was to retrieve the scroll, no matter what it was, no matter who was searching for it.
“Heed my master’s warning, Kage-san,” the yokai went on, becoming somber. “Most mortals searching for the Dragon’s prayer don’t know enough to pose a threat. They have heard a bit of the legend, perhaps enough to try to gather the pieces of the scroll, but their knowledge is incomplete. They flail blindly in the dark, ignorant and unaware. But there is one that even the Kage demonslayer should be wary of. Someone that rivals even the power of Kamigoroshi.” He cast a glance at my sword, as if afraid to offend it, before lowering his voice to a near whisper. “Long ago, there was a being that was a curse upon the pages of Iwagoto’s history. His name inspires fear and loathing, even now. The one responsible for such hate has been called many things throughout the ages, but most remember him as Genno, the Master of Demons.”
