Page 61 of Shadow of the Fox

“Peasant girl.” Oni no Mikoto turned, and his voice, though polite, was chilly. “You travel with Kage-san, so I assume you are either his servant or someone under his protection. But servants do not give orders to samurai. Just a courteous warning, for the next warrior you encounter might take real offense.”

Yumeko blinked, but didn’t cower or back down.“Sumimasen,”she told Oni no Mikoto. “Was I supposed to bow? I was supposed to bow, wasn’t I?”

The ronin snickered. “Actually, I think he expected you to prostrate yourself at his feet and grovel. That’s usually what happens when peasants encounter samurai.”

“I’m sorry,” Yumeko continued. “I meant no offense. I grew up in a temple and never had to address samurai before. Um, besides Tatsumi-san, and he doesn’t seem to care.” I raised an eyebrow at that, but no one was looking at me. “I’m not very good at protocol,” Yumeko went on. “But I truly do not wish to offend. Should I fling myself on the ground now, Oni-sama?”

“No.” Oni no Mikoto sighed. “Just...what is it you want, girl?”

“If Oni-sama would humor me for a moment,” Yumeko continued, “and look at the omukade’s right eye. What do you see?”

The Demon Prince glanced at the yokai. The omukade’s head lay there, its jaws open in a last, furious snarl, a few of its legs still twitching in death. “An arrow,” Oni no Mikoto said, gazing at the ruined eye, where the shaft was easily visible in the moonlight. He paused, putting the pieces together, and drew in a slow breath. “Then...”

He glanced at Okame. “Then, you are the one who shot the monster,” he said, as if just coming to the realization. “On the bridge when it first attacked, Kage-san and I could do nothing against it. None of our blows could get through, but...” He looked at the eye again. “Something drew it away. That was you.”

The ronin shrugged. “I may have hit the thing,” he replied, and nodded at the girl, “but Yumeko-chan got its attention and told me where to shoot. You want to thank someone for not ending up as centipede food, thank her.”

“I see.” Oni no Mikoto turned to face Yumeko again. “Then, it appears I owe you a debt of gratitude,” he said, and though his posture was stiff, his voice remained polite. “That’s what you want, isn’t it, girl? The boon of a samurai. Very well.” He straightened. “I will grant this one favor. Though understand this—I willnotabandon my duel with Kage-san.” His gaze slid to me. “This is a battle I have waited for since I picked up my sword, and I will not miss it. You may ask me anything but that.”

“Very well, Oni-sama,” Yumeko stated. “If you can’t agree not to fight, then grant me this instead. Postpone the duel.”

The Demon Prince seemed taken aback. “Postpone?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “I realize this is important to you, but I have an important mission to complete, and Tatsumi has already promised to accompany me until it is done. He is my escort to the capital, and I cannot allow him to die before I finish my task.”

“You cannot...allow.” Oni no Mikoto blinked at her behind his mask, looking confused, then stunned. Unexpectedly, he sank into a low bow at the waist. “Forgive me, my lady,” he said earnestly. “I was unaware of your station. I mistook you for a simple peasant, but if Kage-san is your yojimbo, I have made a grave mistake. I humbly beg your pardon for my error in judgment.”

I frowned, vaguely annoyed at the assumption. I was no one’s bodyguard. No one save the Kage commanded me. Though I wasn’t going to correct the swordsman’s conclusion. If he thought Yumeko was a lady and I was her yojimbo, protecting her on the roads, then so be it. It might save us questions later.

“Yes, you should feel ashamed,” the ronin broke in, pointing at the girl. “Obviously a simple peasant could not be under the protection of the infamous Kage demonslayer, because peasants cannot have missions or goals or anything meaningful in their lives except serving samurai. Surely she must be a shrine maiden, or wandering onmyoji. That is the only explanation for this travesty, isn’t that so, Oni-san?”

Had it been anyone else, the explanation would have made sense. Yumeko had grown up in a temple and spoke about her Master Isao all the time. Monks, shrine maidens and onmyoji held a different position in Iwagoto; they weren’t part of the warrior caste and, technically, were considered peasants, but they were respected for their wisdom and enlightenment, and were recognized as teachers, masters of their art or spiritual advisors. Onmyoji, especially, were revered among samurai and peasants alike; they were diviners, exorcists, fortune-tellers and specialists of the spirit world, and they were highly sought after for their talents. Because many onmyoji traveled the land, and because they typically dealt with all manner of ghosts, yokai and restless spirits, my path had crossed with theirs on more than one occasion.

It was unlikely, but not impossible, to think Yumeko could be a traveling onmyoji, and had requested the aid of the Shadow Clan’s demonslayer to act as her bodyguard. But I had been traveling with the irreverent ronin long enough to recognize his veiled sarcasm and disdain for the warrior caste and knew he was misleading the other without telling an outright lie.

“But, Okame-san,” Yumeko began, “I’m not—”

“Besides,” the ronin continued loudly, “is this really the time to keep fighting? You fell into the river, and Kage-san looks spent. If this is truly the duel you’ve been waiting for your whole life, do you really want to proceed now, when neither of you are at your best?”

“Hmm.” The Demon Prince crossed his arms. “You make an excellent point,” he admitted, his tone begrudging. “If we fight now, how will I know if it was skill that won the battle, and not blind luck or misfortune? If we are to duel, we must both be prepared and leave nothing to chance. Very well.” He gave a decisive nod and turned to Yumeko. “My lady,” he said, “please allow me to accompany you and your escorts to the capital and wherever your travels take you afterward.”

Startled, I narrowed my eyes, as Yumeko straightened. Apparently she had not expected this, either. “Why?” she asked.

“I know my way around Kin Heigen Toshi,” Oni no Mikoto continued. “I have lived there for many years, and my name carries much weight. I would be happy to offer assistance while you are conducting your business in the capital.”

“We don’t need assistance,” I told him. “Thank you, but we can get by on our own.”

“Forgive me, Kage-san.” Oni no Mikoto sounded amused as he glanced at me. “But we were just attacked by a giant centipede monster. I may not know much about demons, but I have to assume that was not a random assault.

“The life of a demonslayer must be a dangerous one,” Oni no Mikoto went on, as unease flickered within me. Here was yet another who knew entirely too much about the Shadow Clan and Kamigoroshi. Another I might have to kill, should the clan order it. “Especially if he is acting as a bodyguard to an onmyoji. The road ahead could be full of peril and evil creatures—protecting both your charge and yourself will prove challenging if demons continue to target you.”

He glanced at the tree and the giant centipede still coiled around the branches. “I cannot have you dying before we complete our duel,” Oni no Mikoto went on. “That would be a dishonor to us both. Therefore, I will come with you and offer whatever assistance I can. Once your task is complete and Yumeko-san has no further need of your protection, we can continue what we started.”

The ronin threw back his head and laughed. “I love the way samurai think,” he announced, grinning. “So, you’re coming with us, to make sure Kage-san stays alive, so you can kill him later.” He snickered and shook his head. “Man, I can’t wait to see where this goes.”

“I didn’t know Oni-sama was so well-known in the capital,” Yumeko said, as the Demon Prince politely and deliberately ignored the ronin. “Do people find the mask frightening?”

“Ah. Of course,” Oni no Mikoto said. “Forgive my rudeness, I haven’t even properly introduced myself.” He reached up and pulled the oni mask away, revealing a smooth, beardless face only a few years older than me. Small details instantly stood out: high cheekbones, a slightly pointed chin and the pale, elegant look that marked him as a noble of the court. He had narrow, almost effeminate features, and had underlined his already sharp eyes in black. Not the most makeup I’d seen on a noble, even a male one, but it was impossible to mistake him for anything else.

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