Page 53 of Shadow of the Fox

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, his 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.”

“Excuse me.” I rose, causing all three to look my way. The ronin frowned, one cheek bulging like a squirrel.

“Where you going, Kage?”

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