Page 46 of Shadow of the Fox

Watching the gaki shuffle between gravestones, a cold fury began creeping through my veins at the realization, fed by Hakaimono. The villagers had known about this. Now I understood the fear and anticipation. We weren’t “honored guests” as the headman would have us believe: we were sacrifices to the gaki.

Carefully, I drew back, and suddenly realized I was not alone. The monk stood beside me, also gazing down at the roaming gaki, his face hidden in the shadows of his hat. Before I could do anything, he raised his staff, the metal rings glimmering in the darkness, and brought it down with a thump in the dirt. The rings chimed, a metallic jangle that echoed like a gong in the silence, and as one, the gaki whirled, their hollow, burning eyes fixed on me.

I leaped away as, with howls and piercing shrieks, the gaki rushed forward, scuttling over the bamboo fence and swarming up the rise. Darting into the hut, I ignored the snoring ronin and hurried to Yumeko, grabbing her by an arm.

“Yumeko!” She blinked as I hauled her upright, her eyes wide with astonishment as I set her on her feet. “Get up!”

“Tatsumi? What are you—”

A shriek interrupted her, as a twisted, lanky form appeared in the open doorway. Mouth gaping the gaki screamed and lunged at us, curved nails grasping like bird talons. Yumeko gasped, and I leaped between them, Kamigoroshi flashing from its sheath. The blade sliced through the gaki’s bony chest, and the tortured spirit wailed as it shivered into tendrils of black-green mist and writhed away.

“Get the ronin on his feet!” I called, as more gaki appeared through the frame, eyes blazing with madness and hunger. Planting myself in the doorway, I met them with my sword drawn, blocking the way in. Hakaimono, its rage forgotten, flared with excitement at the prospect of killing, bathing the mob in purple light.

Howling, the gaki lunged, teeth bared, claws snatching at me. I cut them down as they surged forward, slicing through limbs and heads alike, splitting sticklike bodies in two. The gaki showed no fear or self-preservation as they came forward, throwing themselves on my blade with mindless fury, their consuming hunger driving them mad. Even if I cut off a limb, the owner would still press forward, raking with the other, or trying to bite me if both were gone. They dissolved into ethereal mist as they were destroyed, but there were always more, a seemingly endless horde crowding the tiny entrance of the hut. A talon got through my defenses and ripped a gash across my neck, and the smell of blood seemed to drive the mob into an even greater frenzy.

Something buzzed by my ear, inches from the side of my face, and an arrow thumped into a gaki’s forehead, sending it writhing into mist. As I slashed through another, a second arrow flashed between my arms, and a gaki howled as it disappeared. Through the chaos and fury of battle, I vaguely realized that the ronin either had perfect aim and timing to shoot through a doorway with me still in front of it, or he was getting insanely lucky.

“What are these things?” I heard Yumeko cry, somewhere behind me. “What do they want?”

“Gaki!” the ronin called back, as another arrow buzzed along my ribs and hit one in its bloated stomach. “Hungry ghosts! You can’t reason with them. Poor bastards are starving and will try to eat anything, including us.”

Another talon got through and latched on to my sleeve, ripping through cloth and taking a bit of skin along with it. Hakaimono snarled in rage and surged up, urging me to let it go, to release its power and slaughter the pathetic crowd before us. I ignored it, pushing the demon’s influence down, not trusting myself or the blade right now.

Something larger than an arrow flew past my head and hit a gaki in the face. It staggered back as a large daikon radish dropped to the ground in front of it. With a snarl, the gaki ignored the vegetable and flew at me again, and Hakaimono hissed with pleasure as the sword cut through the skinny neck. The head fell, bounced once beside the radish, and dissolved into mist.

Several more food offerings sailed past my shoulders and swinging arms, into the crowd of gaki, who ignored or even batted them away. “I don’t think they’re interested in regular food,” Yumeko observed, as I gritted my teeth and wished my companions would stop hurling things past my head. “I think they just want to eatus.”

There was a loud rustle above me, and Yumeko let out a yelp. “Okame, they’re coming in through the roof!”

“Dammit!” There was a hiss of a bowstring, a thump and a screech above me as a gaki met its end. “More incoming,” the ronin shouted, as the sound of thatch tearing echoed overhead, and bits of straw began drifting around me. “Hey, Kage, how’s the mob looking on your end?”

I sliced down two gaki that had rushed forward, catching a split-second glance of the numbers beyond. “About a dozen left,” I panted, jerking back to avoid gaki claws tearing open my face. “Just keep them off me for a few more seconds. And protect Yumeko.”

More hisses and shrieks rang out behind me, but I couldn’t turn from the mob at the door. I heard scuttling feet, the ronin swearing and then a cry from Yumeko that sent a chill through my stomach. Beheading the last gaki, I whirled, ready to rush to her defense, hoping I wouldn’t see her lifeless body on the floor, a pair of monsters ripping it to pieces.

The ronin lay sprawled on his back near the firepit, his bow held in front of him as if to ward something away. Yumeko stood beside him with her tanto outstretched, the remnants of green mist coiling around her as it vanished on the breeze. Her sleeve was torn, ripped by grasping claws, but there didn’t seem to be any blood.

“Is that...the last of them?” she panted, looking at me.

I nodded once and sheathed Kamigoroshi, feeling a strange flicker of emotion in my chest. Seeing her alive and unharmed...was this relief I felt?

“Tatsumi.” Yumeko stepped forward, her eyes gazing worriedly at the side of my neck where the gaki had clawed it. I could feel blood from the torn flesh beginning to seep into my collar. My arm, too, was starting to drip blood on the wooden planks. “Before we do anything, we should take care of those. Do you have any medicine left?”

She took another step toward me, and I remembered her touch, cool and soft, sliding over my skin. So unlike the healers of the Shadow Clan; they took care of my wounds with quick and brutal efficiency, sparing me no discomfort. As with everything in my life, I had come to see the pain that came from their ministrations as normal. As Ichiro-sensei often said: pain was a good thing; it meant I was still alive. But with Yumeko...that had been the first time in recent memory that another person had touched me...without hurting me.

I stiffened and drew away from her.No distractions, I reminded myself.No emotion, no weaknesses.If I let myself fall under this girl’s spell, craving a touch that wasn’t painful, Hakaimono would latch on to that flaw and turn me into a demon.

“Don’t,” I warned in a cold voice, and she halted, blinking in confusion. “Don’t come near me,” I told her, backing away. “I don’t need your help. I’ll take care of it myself.”

Her brow furrowed, puzzlement and something else going through her eyes. Ignoring that look, and the vague squeezing sensation in my chest, I brushed past her, toward the full water bucket in the corner of the hut. I had my mission, and I would not falter. Nothing mattered except retrieving the scroll and returning to Lady Hanshou. A weapon did not question the demands of its owners, or the purpose for which it was created. A weapon existed only to obey...and to kill.

“Oi,” the ronin demanded as I walked away, pointing to his face and the shallow cuts across his skin. “What about me? This isn’t Kabuki makeup, you know.”

“Why would I think it’s Kabuki makeup, Okame-san?”

He sighed. “Never mind.”

I watched Yumeko take a cloth from her obi and walk over to the ronin, then crouched down to look at his face. “What about the gaki?” she asked, dabbing at his cheek. “Do you think there could be more out there?”

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