Page 40 of Shadow of the Fox

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.”

I straightened, and Hakaimono perked as well; both of us recognized that name. The Master of Demons was a well-known, if terrifying, figure from the country’s darkest era. Four hundred years ago, in the midst of the worst civil war the land had ever known, a sorcerer named Genno raised an army of demons and undead to assault the capital and overthrow the emperor. Because the land was so fractured, his strategy nearly worked. The emperor was killed, and the imperial city was on the verge of collapse, when the clans finally put aside their squabbles and united against the greater threat. Many lives were lost, and the country was nearly torn asunder, but the combined strength of the clans was enough to finally turn the tide. In the final battle, Genno was slain, the hordes of undead crumbled and the demons fled, scattering to the winds. But that was not the end of the story. Not content with simply killing the Master of Demons, the new emperor had him beheaded, his body cremated and his head sealed deep within a sacred tomb, so that he would never again rise to threaten the land.

That was the theory, anyway.

I faced the yokai and frowned, making him shrink back. “The Master of Demons was killed over four hundred years ago,” I said slowly, making certain I understood what the one-eyed creature was implying. “I take it he’s returned, somehow?”

The yokai bobbed his head. “That is what my master believes,” he said. “The wind witch that attacked you earlier was one of his servants. Uh, Genno-sama’s, not my master’s. My master would not bother with one such as she.” His eye scrunched up, as if he were disgusted by the thought, before he shook his head. “But Genno has many demons, yokai and even humans that do his bidding, and now that he is looking for the scroll, he’ll try to eliminate any competition. That means you, demonslayer. And any who are close to you.”

I thought of Yumeko, her bright gaze and cheerful smile, the light going out of her eyes as a demon ripped her apart. Strangely, it bothered me in a way I’d never felt before. “Why are you telling me this?” I asked the yokai. “If the scroll is so powerful, why doesn’t your master want it as well?”

“I don’t question the master’s orders,” the one-eyed creature said, going a bit pale at the very thought. “My only purpose is to serve him in whatever way I can. He told me to warn the Kage demonslayer that the Master of Demons is searching for the Dragon’s prayer, and that he plans to kill you. So, I have. And now my job is done.” He blinked his enormous eye and gave me a nervous look. “Uh... I can go now, yes? You won’t try to kill me once I try to leave?”

The demon in my head gave me a push to do just that, cut the pathetic creature down when its back was turned, a fitting end to such weakness. I stifled the urge and jerked my head toward the tree line. “Go,” I told the yokai, who immediately leaped off the woodpile, without turning his back on me, I noticed. “But tell your master this—don’t get in my way. If he threatens me or those who travel with me, I’ll kill him. That is my only warning. If we meet on the road as enemies, I won’t hesitate to cut him down.”

The yokai’s eye widened until it resembled a tiny moon, and he nodded. “O-of course, Kage-san,” he stammered, bobbing as he backed away. “I’ll be sure to deliver your message.” He stole a glance toward the trees, and I was suddenly certain that this “master” was close, and that he had heard the entire conversation. “Well then,” the yokai finished, preparing to dart into the woods. “H-have a good night, Kage-san. Hopefully we will not meet again.”

He darted away, a streak of pale skin in the moonlight, and vanished into the shadows of the forest. I sensed Hakaimono’s vague disgust that I hadn’t severed his spine and ignored it, scanning the darkness beyond the trees. Something was out there. The mysterious master who’d made certain to warn me that Genno the sorcerer had returned to Ningen-kai hadn’t done so out of any sense of altruism. Whoever he was, he was another player in this game I often found myself in. Lady Hanshou, the emperor, the clan daimyos—they were the generals, the major players, the ones with perfect knowledge, and we were the pieces on the board. I was a single pawn in a shogi match, being moved by unseen forces, going where I was directed without any knowledge as to why. That was how it had always been.

And now, it seemed another general had stepped up to the table. Genno, the Master of Demons, had returned, and would likely be seeking revenge. Lady Hanshou would want to know about this, as would the rest of the daimyos, and even the emperor himself, but my first duty was to my own clan. As soon as I secured the scroll, I would return and tell her what I had learned, or perhaps pass the information along to Jomei or another servant of the Shadow Clan if they popped up to check on me. Until then, I would continue my mission, and worry about demons when they came.

I turned and walked back to the hut, feeling eyes on me the entire way.

When I peered through the doorframe, the ronin was sitting alone in the center of the room, surrounded by debris and empty bottles. Yumeko lay on a blanket in the corner, clutching a straw pillow, an overturned sake cup lying forgotten beside her. The ronin saw where I was looking and sighed, shaking his head.

“Half a bottle and she was nodding off into her cup,” he said, a rueful grin stretching his mouth. “Pity, really. I was hoping she might be a handsy drunk. Guess I’ll be drinking alone tonight, unless you’d like to join me, Kage-san.”

“No.” Taking Kamigoroshi from my belt, I sat in the doorway and leaned against the frame, positioning my body so that it stretched across the entrance. If yokai were still out there and wanted to get into the hut, they would have to get past me, at least.

“Making me pour my own sake. How crass.” The ronin sniffed, poured himself a cup and then took a swig directly from the bottle. “Good thing dogs like me aren’t expected to have manners or any kind of social graces. So, Kage-san...” He picked up the sake cup with his other hand and eyed me over the rim with a shrewd black gaze. “What’s the story with you and Yumeko? You’re part of the Shadow Clan, and you’re not a ronin, so why are you following a peasant girl all the way to the capital? She’s not a servant, I can tell that much. No clan member would let a servant girl boss them around like that.” He tipped the contents of the cup into his mouth and swallowed, then grinned at me. “Or maybe, she’s really a princess dressed as a peasant to avoid detection, and you’re her bodyguard. That would explain a few things. How she can order you around, how you concede to everything she says, even helping a random bandit on the road.” He paused, and when I didn’t answer, the grin grew wider. “You know, if you don’t say anything, Kage-san, I’m only going to assume the worst.”

I leaned my head against the doorframe, letting his babble slide over me like water, vanishing like mist as it passed. “Your assumptions mean nothing to me,” I said, making him snort. “Presume what you like.”

“Oh? Then I suppose you wouldn’t mind if I have a little fun with the peasant girl.” The ronin put down the bottle and cast a hungry look in the corner, eyes gleaming. “She has a nice body under those rags, and I’d bet my last gold ryu that she’s unspoiled. You weren’t going to do anything with her, right, Kage-san? She is just a peasant, after all—”

He stopped, his gaze falling to my sword, where I had curled my fingers around the hilt. My body had gone very still, ready to explode into movement, and there was a new emotion boiling just below the surface, one I hadn’t felt before. Similar to Hakaimono’s violence and bloodlust, but different. It took me a moment to place it, because the feeling in my chest wasn’t the demon’s emotion; for the first time in years, it was my own.

Anger.

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