Shadow of the Fox

by Julie Kagawa

  Picking up the knife, she regarded her reflection in the surface. As Suki watched, mystified, the woman lowered the blade to the inside of her arm, then cut a short, straight gash along her skin. Blood welled and bubbled from the cut, and Satomi began chanting in a low, hypnotic voice.

  Suki felt the whisper of some terrible power go through the air, and trembled in an effort not to flee the room. On Satomi’s raised arm, the line of blood swelled, congealed and became solid. Dozens of legs wriggled, and the long, segmented body of a centipede emerged from the blood and began crawling up her arm.

  Satomi smiled. Reaching down, she plucked the monstrous insect from her skin and held it between two fingernails as it writhed and coiled in her grasp. “Go,” she whispered to it. “Find the demonslayer and the fox. Kill them both, feast on their insides and return to me with the scroll. I will be waiting.”

  She tossed the centipede to the floor, where it landed with an audible thump. As soon as it hit the ground, it scuttled across the room on hooked yellow legs, squeezed through a crack in the boards and vanished.

  Lowering her arm, ignoring the blood that dripped to the floor, Satomi nodded in satisfaction. “Well, that should take care of it,” she murmured to herself. “The demonslayer has become quite troublesome, but once he is dead, this piece of the scroll will be mine.” She sighed, as if wearied by the amount of work still left to do. “Now, I must write an invitation to the palace, and find someone halfway competant to deliver it to the Hayate shrine. That useless new girl should be able to manage that, at least.”

  She glanced down at herself, as if realizing for the first time she and her magnificent robes were covered in blood that stained the silk and was still running down her arm. “Such a messy business,” she sighed. “And trying enough without being spied upon. Are you getting a good look, little spirit, or whoever is haunting this castle? I can feel you watching me, you know. You’re not terribly subtle.”

  Suki jolted back, flaring into existence, and Satomi turned to her with a smile.

  “There you are. Well, well, still hanging around, Suki-chan?” the woman mocked, as Suki floated there, stunned. Satomi chuckled, shaking her head. “Poor lost lingering soul. Too weak and frightened to even come back as a grudge spirit. How very pathetic. But you are of no importance to me anymore.”

  Suki clenched her ghostly fists, wishing she could do something, anything. Even pick up the dead crow’s head and hurl it at the evil woman. Satomi chuckled again, then bent to grab the bloody cloth from the table. “If you wish to haunt me, little soul,” the woman crooned as she wiped her arm clean, “you go right ahead. But if you become annoying, or if you get in my way, I know a few blood priestesses and onmyoji who would be happy to bind your spirit to a wall scroll. Or the mirror. Or perhaps stuff you into a monkey.” Her lips curled even further, showing teeth as she stepped forward. “Would you like to be a monkey, Suki-chan? Personally, I think it would be an improvement, don’t you? Catch!”

  She hurled the bloody cloth at Suki’s face. Instinctively, Suki jerked back, throwing up her arms to shield herself. The rag passed right through her arms and face and struck the wall behind her, and Suki felt her body shiver like mist in response. With a soundless cry, the distraught ghost turned and fled, vanishing through the walls of the castle, hearing Satomi’s cruel laughter follow her as she did.

  21

  The Legend of Oni no Mikoto

  “I think we’ve crossed the border, Kage-san,” the ronin announced, shading his eyes as he gazed down the hill with Yumeko. “I’m pretty certain we’re in Taiyo lands now. The capital shouldn’t be far.”

  Standing in the shade of a ginkgo tree, I gazed down at the sweeping vista before us and concluded that he was right. These were definitely the lands of the Sun Clan. We had crossed into the territory of the Taiyo. While not as martially powerful as the Fire Clan, or as numerously large as the Earth Clan, the Taiyo were perhaps the most influential of all the Great Clans, for they made up the imperial family. They ruled the capital city of Kin Heigen Toshi, and as far back as history could remember, the emperor or empress had always been part of the Sun Clan.

  The silvery glint of a river, snaking through the valley toward the distant peaks, caught my eye. “There’s the Hotaru Kawa,” I said. “If we follow it north, it will lead to the capital.”

  “Yep. And we got here without having to pass through the border checkpoint, which would’ve been a pain in the ass.” The ronin grinned back at me. “See, it all worked out, Kage-san. A dog always finds its way.”

  I didn’t answer. The ronin had kept his word and had led us through the mountains, but he was also responsible for getting us lost in the first place. Still, I could admit he had proven useful in the gaki village; his skill as a warrior had certainly helped in the last battle, even if it wasn’t with a sword. And we had avoided the checkpoint, though I would need to be careful of any imperial magistrates or guards who might demand to see my travel papers. At best, depending on the circumstances, I would have to pay a hefty fine for traveling through another clan’s territory without proper documentation. At worst, I would be imprisoned and executed, my clan shamed and dishonor brought to my family. Yumeko would be fine; no one paid attention to peasant girls, and ronin were rarely given a second glance. But I was a Kage samurai, or at least I looked the part, and samurai were treated with caution in territories not their own. Especially if that samurai was part of the Shadow Clan.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve been to the capital,” the ronin stated, his gaze following the river through the valley. “It’ll be nice to relax, get a halfway decent meal, and then maybe I can convince you to have some fun for a change, Kage-san.” He gave me that defiant grin. “I take it you’ve never played cho-han before?”

  Cho-han was a dice game popular in all of Iwagoto’s gambling dens, which were rough, seedy places frequented by bandits, ronin, gang members and crime lords. My missions for the Shadow Clan sometimes took me into the darkest of these underworlds, chasing down demons hiding among killers, but reputable samurai rarely ventured into such places, and those that did never admitted to it.

  “No,” I said.

  “No, you’ve never played it, or no, I can’t convince you to try?”

  “Take your pick.”

  “Ah, well. Your loss, samurai.” The ronin shook his head and glanced at Yumeko, sitting peacefully under the ginkgo tree. “Maybe Yumeko-chan would be willing to try her hand at it. She can talk to the kami, right? Could she ask Tamafuku, the God of Luck, to bless my dice for a round or two?”

  He was baiting me, and I knew he was baiting me, but anger flickered all the same. I knew what kind of humans filled those gambling halls: predators with hungry eyes and bloodthirsty smiles. The thought of Yumeko surrounded by a circle of human wolves, their ravenous eyes watching her every move, filled me with a cold fury I did not understand.

  “Tamafuku?” Sitting in the grass, Yumeko cocked her head, and the cricket that had been perched on her elbow sprang away into the grass. “Well, I could try,” she said. “I’ve never spoken to any of the Great Kami before, just the minor ones. Do you know where we can find Tamafuku so I could talk to him?”

  “Well, there is a giant statue of him just inside the gambling hall,” the ronin said.

  “Oh? Does he live inside the statue then? Do you think it gets up and moves around when no one is looking? There was a teapot in the Silent Winds temple that did that sometimes, until the day Nitoru kicked it across the room.”

  “Never mind.” The ronin sighed. “Forget I said anything.”

  With a yawn, the girl rose, stretching both arms over her head. “At least we’re almost to the capital,” she mused, gazing down the valley. “What I’m hoping for is an inn with good food and soft futons. It will be nice to sleep on a bed for a change and not out in the open. Or in a leaky hut. Or in a cave with a very uncomfort
able stone floor.” Her dark gaze slid to me, the smile growing wider. “Unlike certain samurai who will remain nameless, most of us cannot fall asleep wherever we want.”

  I masked a frown, confused. I could never sleep as she did, stretched out and prone, easy prey for someone to cut off my head or tear me apart. Sleep for me came in snatches, in an upright position with my back to the wall and Kamigoroshi in my lap, ready to be drawn in a blink. Comfort had nothing to do with it.

  The ronin pulled his sake jug around to his front. “We’re still a few days out from the capital, if I had to guess,” he remarked, pulling the top off the gourd. “But there should be a couple towns between here and Kin Heigen Toshi. I think Yashigi is just up the river.” He lifted the jug toward his lips, but then gave a yelp and yanked it away from his face. “Kuso!”

  My hand dropped to my sword, and Yumeko blinked at him in shock. “What’s wrong, Okame-san?”

  “There’s...a...frog...in my sake!” the ronin sputtered, sounding outraged and horrified. He tilted the gourd upside down, shook it twice, and a tiny green creature tumbled into the grass with the rest of the liquid.

  Yumeko burst out laughing. Her voice was like tiny birds, and sent a strange prickle over my skin. “Oh, don’t be upset, Okame-san,” she said, as the ronin stared mournfully at the empty jug, as if hoping it would refill. “Frogs are good luck, after all. You must be blessed by the kami.”

  “Not from where I’m standing. Unless they’ve decided to bless me with soberness, which they can keep to themselves, thank you very much.”

  I glanced at the place the frog had fallen, but could no longer see it in the grass. Only a bright green juniper leaf skipping across the ground, being blown by the wind. The ronin gave a heavy sigh and hung the gourd around his neck. “Well, shall we get going?” he muttered. “I’m going to need a lot more sake if I’m going to keep traveling with the pair of you.”

  * * *

  We reached Yashigi just as the sun was going down, casting long shadows over the valley and turning the river the color of blood. The long wooden bridge over the Hotaru Kawa teemed with people entering and leaving town; merchants with carts, ronin, peasants, a few mounted samurai, all mingled together, hooves, wheels and sandaled feet thumping and groaning as they crossed.

  “So many people,” Yumeko murmured, gazing around with wide eyes. “Even more than Chochin Machi. I’ve never seen so many people in one place.”

  Beside her, the ronin chuckled. “This is nothing, Yumeko-chan,” he told her. “Just wait till you see the capital.”

  An imperial magistrate, flanked by two mounted guards, clopped down the center of the bridge on horseback, parting the crowds before them like waves. Discreetly, I moved to the side of the road, keeping my gaze averted and blending into the passersby. The magistrate and his guards passed without pause and continued across the bridge, though I did notice the ronin eyeing me with suspicion when they were out of sight.

  Across the bridge, a wide main road cut through the center of town, branching into dozens of side streets. Rows of wooden buildings with blue-tiled overhangs lined the sidewalks, rectangular cloth signs fluttering in the breeze. Despite the fading light, people still milled about the streets: women in kimonos, samurai sauntering through the crowds, merchants standing outside their businesses, enticing customers to enter. A tofu seller jogged past us, two large wooden buckets balanced from a pole on his shoulder. A trio of boys clustered around a stall selling cooked eel, watching as the vendor pulled live eels out of a barrel, drove a nail through their gills to fillet them and placed the skewers on the grill.

  As they’d been in Chochin Machi, Yumeko’s eyes were wide, her gaze never still, as she took everything in. As we moved down the sidewalks, the ronin was all too happy to point things out and to offer an explanation on whatever questions she had. I said nothing as we wove through the foot traffic, keeping a firm hand on Kamigoroshi and scanning the crowds for danger. The girl and the ronin remained oblivious, but I had felt eyes on us the moment we crossed the bridge. There was no doubt in my mind; we were being watched.

  “Man, I’m starving,” the ronin stated, pausing at the entrance of a restaurant, blue curtains hanging over the door. A fat tanuki statue wearing a straw hat and clutching a sake bottle stood beside the entrance, beckoning travelers inside. “What do you think, Yumeko-chan?”

  Yumeko blinked at the statue and crossed her arms. “I don’t think this is a proper representation,” she stated in a serious voice. “I’ve never known any tanuki to have that big a scrotum.”

  The ronin made a spitting noise and turned away, coughing and beating his chest. “He means food, Yumeko,” I explained, as the ronin gasped and waved his hand at us in agreement, leaning against the wall. “This is a restaurant, if you want to get something to eat.”

  “Oh,” Yumeko said, and frowned. “Well, of course. I’m fairly hungry myself. Though I still think the statue is all wrong.” She sniffed and passed it by, wrinkling her nose. “How would one even walk with those dragging along the ground? I would think they’d get horribly chafed.”

  I managed not to wince as I followed her through the door, but just barely.

  “Welcome, sir, welcome!” the host greeted as we came into the room. Though I brought up the rear, he looked only at me, ignoring the ronin and Yumeko entirely. “Will you be dining with us tonight?”

  “Three of us,” I told him, earning a brief, puzzled look as he glanced at my companions. It wasn’t every day a samurai sat down to eat with a ronin and a peasant girl. Under my flat stare, however, he quickly bowed and ushered us to a low table in the corner. After explaining that our waitress would be right over, he bowed once more and left.

  A young woman arrived soon after, and both Yumeko and the ronin enthusiastically placed their orders, while I tried not to think of how this would deplete the last of my coin. After the waitress left, I poured myself a cup of tea and quietly nursed my drink, listening to the murmur of voices around us.

  “They say Oni no Mikoto has appeared again,” the man at the table behind us muttered.

  “The Demon Prince?” said his companion. “Kami preserve us. Where was he seen this time?”

  “Omachi, on the bridge outside town. Two ronin were traveling together, and he challenged the stronger of them to a duel.” A pause, and then he added in a hushed voice, “The survivor said he’d never seen anyone move so fast.”

  “That’s because Oni no Mikoto isn’t a man,” said his companion gravely. “Well, this will stir up a hornet’s nest, as all the fools who think they’re warriors will be off looking for a fight, hoping the Demon Prince finds them worthy enough to challenge. Baka.” The man snorted. “Worthy enough to kill, more likely.”

  The waitress returned, setting a tray before us. It held an assortment of dishes: cooked meat, vegetables and three bowls of rice. “Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked, as the ronin immediately grabbed a chicken strip with his chopsticks and shoved it into his mouth. Politely, she didn’t seem to notice.

  “I have a question,” Yumeko said, as the ronin continued to pick food off the tray. “Who is Oni no Mikoto? Is he really a prince of demons? I have trouble believing there is an oni wandering around the valley, challenging people to duels. Wouldn’t people notice that?”

  So, she had been listening, too. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised. The waitress’s eyes widened a bit, and she dropped her voice. “Oni no Mikoto?” she whispered in a dramatic voice, as if this was not the first time she had spoken about him. “He’s become our most famous local legend. They say on moonlit nights, a lone swordsman will sometimes appear on the bridges around the area, blocking the way forward. He had the body of an angel and the face of a demon, and will not allow anyone to cross the bridge unless they defeat him in a duel. But he shows himself only to those he finds worthy—the strongest and most skilled warriors in the land. Apparently, hi
s legend has grown beyond the valley, because now we have swordsmen traveling here from all over, hoping to meet Oni no Mikoto on the roads. But in the three years since the Demon Prince first appeared, no one has been able to defeat him.

  “So,” she finished, as Yumeko listened in rapt fascination, “if you are traveling through the valley, and you happen to meet a single swordsman on a lonely, moonlit bridge, first count yourself both lucky and cursed—you are among the few worthy of Oni no Mikoto’s attention. Then turn around and walk away. Oni no Mikoto is not a man. He is a demon with a sword, and he will take your head for a prize as he has done to the countless warriors who came before.”

  “Ha.” The ronin snorted with his mouth full. “If it was me, I’d just shoot him.”

  The waitress looked affronted. “You cannot just shoot Oni no Mikoto!”

  “Nande? Why not?”

  “Because,” the waitress sputtered. “It’s...dishonorable!”

  “Bah, I’m no samurai. I don’t follow that code of honor anymore.” The ronin picked up a squid and stuffed the whole thing in his mouth. “Some stranger wants to kill me for trying to cross a bridge, he’s getting shot between the eyes.”

  I reached for my rice bowl but paused, a faint shiver going through my veins. A black paper crane sat on a corner of the tray, almost invisible against the lacquered surface. My heart sank, but I couldn’t leave it there. As the waitress sputtered again, I quickly palmed the folded crane and slipped it into my sleeve.

  The waitress still seemed at a loss for words. “You cannot... That is... How barbaric.” She stepped back, giving the ronin a look of distaste. “Well, you won’t even see Oni no Mikoto,” she said loftily. “Someone like you isn’t worthy of his attention.”

  “I hope not,” was the reply. “I’d lose all respect for this Demon Prince if he showed up to challenge a filthy ronin dog.”