Page 57 of Shadow of the Fox

A stranger stood in the center of the bridge, the moonlight blazing down on him, a shining katana held loosely at his side.

23

The Demon on the Bridge

“Oni no Mikoto,” Yumeko whispered.

The swordsman waited for us in the center of the bridge, unmoving as a statue. I didn’t know what I was expecting of the Demon Prince, but it wasn’t the tall, almost elegant figure in front of us. He wore dark blue hakama trousers and sandals, but his chest was bare, lean muscles exposed to the moonlight. Long white hair, not uncommon in Taiyo lands, fell unbound past his waist. A white-and-red oni mask covered his face, its mouth split into a wide, tusk-bearing grin, curved horns spiking up from its forehead. His sword glimmered at his side, curved and lethal.

“Well, shit,” Okame muttered. “It really is Oni no Mikoto, or someone doing their damndest to imitate the legend. Good thing I’m not impressed by legends. Or that silly code of honor. Don’t worry, Kage-san,” he said, grinning back at me. “I’ll take care of this.”

In one smooth motion, he drew back his string and loosed an arrow at the figure on the bridge. I watched, knowing the ronin was a near perfect shot, wondering if the next thing I saw would be the stranger toppling backward with an arrow jutting from his chest.

Oni no Mikoto didn’t move. He didn’t dive out of the way, or take a step back. His sword flicked up, a blink of silver in the darkness, and knocked the dart aside. The arrow clattered against the rails before dropping into the river.

“Sugoi.”This from Yumeko, her voice awed. “That was...very fast.”

The ronin blew out a soft breath. “Yeah,” he said, sounding half annoyed, half intimidated. “That confirms it, then. We need to find another bridge.”

“There is no other bridge.” I stared at Oni no Mikoto, impatient. The Demon Prince regarded us in silence, seemingly unconcerned that he had just been shot at. I could sense his contemplation, the weight of his gaze regarding each of us in turn. Then, that long gleaming blade rose and pointed, very deliberately, at me, before lowering to his side again.

Okame snorted. “Looks like you’ve just been challenged, Kage-san. Better you than me, though like I said, I don’t have to worry about honor and fair fights. I suppose you’ll be accepting the duel, then. Wouldn’t want to risk dishonor to...I guess everything, really. Yourself, your clan, your children, your livestock, the road you’re traveling, the sandals on your feet, the rice balls in your pack—”

“Really? The rice balls, too?” Yumeko frowned at him. “I didn’t know you could dishonor your food.”

“Everythingcan be dishonored, Yumeko-chan. Just ask any samurai. Of course, they’d probably cut off your head for asking such a dishonorable question.”

“Enough.”

Oni no Mikoto spoke. His voice was calm and smooth, and had a cultured edge that caught my attention. Definitely not a vagabond ronin or bandit; he almost sounded like Kage Masao, the well-bred courtier and advisor to Lady Hanshou. “Kage-san,” the Demon Prince continued, “if it wasn’t clear before, I challenge you to a duel to prove whose skill is superior. If you wish to cross, you must defeat me first. You can, of course, turn around and leave without consequence. I have no interest in cowards.”

Kamigoroshi flared, eager and almost gleeful. I ignored the exciting pulsing of the sword and gestured at Yumeko and the ronin, a few paces away. “What of my companions?”

“The girl may cross, if she chooses. The ronin...” I sensed his gaze shift under the mask, his voice taking on the faintest edge. “I would prefer he stayed within my sight, if only to prevent an arrow in my back once he crosses the bridge.”

For any samurai, a statement like that would be an unforgivable insult, implying that he would strike from behind like a coward, but the ronin only shrugged.

“Don’t worry about me.” The ronin put away his bow and settled against the railing. “There’s no way I would miss this. I’m only disappointed there’s no gambling hall to place bets. I’d walk out of here a rich man.”

I could almost feel the disdain coming from the masked stranger across from me. Gambling, especially on another’s life, was something criminals, merchants and pit crowds partook in. Not respectable samurai.

“Yumeko,” I said, finding the girl hovering close to the railing. “You should leave. Sagimura is on the other side of the bridge—find an inn and wait for us there. We shouldn’t be long.”

“What? I’m not going anywhere.” Yumeko glared at Oni no Mikoto, then turned to me, her eyes conflicted. “This duel,” she began. “It’s to the death, isn’t it?”

I looked at my opponent. There were several kinds of duels. Some used bokken, wooden practice swords, to prove who was stronger without bloodshed. Some duels were to first blood, and though they could be deadly, often ended without fatalities. Among skilled samurai, iaijutsu duels were favored, where two swordsmen stood an arm’s length apart with their swords sheathed, and the first to move, draw his blade and cut his opponent was the winner of the match. They, too, could be deadly, but death was not a foregone conclusion.

“Yes,” Oni no Mikoto said calmly. “As I am the challenger, I will allow you to choose the type of duel you prefer, be it iaijutsu or something else. But there will be no first blood, no quarter given and no surrender. This will be to the death. Only one of us will cross this bridge tonight, unless you wish to turn around and go back.”

“Why?” Yumeko asked. “What do you gain from killing people? Are you really a demon?”

“A demon?” The masked stranger sounded taken aback. He stared at her, then shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand,” he told her gently. “Those with no passion can never comprehend the drive for perfection. I am no demon. I am merely an artist who, for years, had no canvas to practice upon. I dedicated my life to swordplay, to perfecting the balance between myself and the blade. But dueling with wooden swords, or being forced to stop at first blood—that is like painting a picture with only half the colors. The ‘safe’ duels I fought hobbled me and told me nothing. The only way to truly test my skills is to fight with no limitations. Only then will I know if I have achieved perfection.”

“But...you kill people,” Yumeko said. “You lurk on bridges and ambush travelers, just to prove that you’re better at swordplay. Why?”

“Lurk?” The stranger sounded amused. “What a distasteful image. Were you a man, I would ask you to back up your insult with steel. Oni no Mikoto does notlurk.I challenge, and then I offer a clear choice. Anyone can refuse the duel. There have been several who have recognized a superior opponent and have declined the challenge, at no loss of honor to themselves. I do not wish to fight those who are not worthy. Acknowledging they are outmatched saves me valuable time, which I appreciate. All too often, I find my opponents are boastful and overconfident, and have a much higher opinion of themselves than their skills account for. I hope that is not the case here.

“So, Kage-san.” That pale oni mask turned back to me. “I humbly await your answer. Will you, as several have done before you, turn around and leave? Or will you face Oni no Mikoto with honor and cross swords with him tonight?”

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