Page 71 of Shadow of the Fox

He gave me a crooked smile. “That is a long story for another day, Yumeko-chan. Let’s just say there was a time where I fully believed in honor and duty and the code of Bushido. But that was years ago, when I was young, stupid and eager to prove myself.”

“What happened?”

“I got slapped with the cruel hand of reality,” the ronin said, smirking. “And I realized that the revered code of Bushido is nonsense. There is no honor in the world, especially among samurai. It just took my becoming a ronin to realize it.”

I blinked at the underlying bitterness in his voice, wondering what had turned him into the jaded ronin he was now. “You’ll have to tell me the story one day.”

“I will. But right now, we have bigger concerns. Like making it through the emperor’s party without being discovered as charlatans. Just remember,” he went on, gently tapping my sleeve, dangling over the veranda, with a finger, “I’m no more a yojimbo than you are an onmyoji. And pretending to be either is a death sentence should anyone find out.”

“I know,” I said. Reika had explained it, in great detail, this morning. As soon as Okame left, she had dragged me into a room, slammed the door and proceeded to lecture me about being so reckless with my lies. I was lying to Daisuke about being an onmyoji, I was lying to Okame about being a peasant, and I was lying to the Kage demonslayer about being a normal human girl. I had gotten lucky so far, she’d told me, glowering like a small furious cat. Especially when traveling with the infamous Kage demonslayer.

And tonight, she went on, we would be inside the walls of the Imperial Palace, surrounded by nobles, samurai, aristocrats and the emperor himself. Where, if it were discovered we weren’t who we claimed to be, it would mean execution for us all. This wasn’t one of my kitsune games, Reika had warned. This was quite literally life or death. So I had better start taking it seriously.

I chewed my lip. She was right. I was dragging a lot of people into this crazy, made-up story, and the lies kept stacking on top of each other. Sooner or later, that tower was going to collapse. “Are you sure you want to come with us, Okame-san?” I asked, glancing up at the ronin. “You don’t owe me anything, you know. You’re free to leave if you want to.”

“Are you kidding?” The ronin shot me his wolfish grin, eyes glinting. “Forget obligation, this is the most fun I’ve had in years. When I was a samurai, I was never important enough to be invited to the emperor’s grand parties. It’s going to be poetically ironic sauntering in there with a Taiyo, the proudest of the proud, and seeing the looks on their pinched, stuck-up faces.”

“But it’s dangerous. What happens if we’re found out?”

“The danger is what makes it fun, Yumeko-chan,” Okame said. “None of the nobles are going to ask if you’re really an onmyoji—that would be the height of discourtesy. As long as you don’t agree to tell any fortunes, divine the future or exorcise a demon, we should be fine.” He shrugged and leaned against the railing, looking carefree. “So I wouldn’t worry about it. The court monkeys will all be too busy preening, fawning over the emperor and trying to out-strut each other to pay much attention to us.”

“There will be monkeys?” I blinked in shock. “Well, that will make it entertaining, at least. But monkeys are terribly messy, won’t they be worried about that?”

“That was quite cruel, Okame-san,” said a new voice, and Taiyo Daisuke came around the corner of the building. He wore a magnificent kimono of dark blue silk, with miniature golden suns patterned over the sleeves and down the front, and he held a colorful silk fan in both hands. His long white hair had been pulled behind his head, and glimmered against the dark silk of his robes. “You shouldn’t fill Yumeko-san’s head with such lies. At least a few of them will be too busy destroying a rival’s reputation with gossip, or setting up advantageous marriages, to be doing much fawning.”

Glancing up at me, he smiled and lowered his head in a respectful bow. “Lady Yumeko,” he said in a solemn voice, “I feel I must apologize again for my boorish behavior the night we met. It is fortunate that the sakura blossoms have already faded and passed away, for surely they would weep at having to compete with your beauty.”

“Um...” I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that; no one had ever paid me such a compliment before. Fortunately at that moment, Reika slid open the door and joined us on the veranda, saving me from stammering a reply in a most unnoble-like fashion. The miko still wore the red hakama and white haori of the shrine maidens, but her hair was up and had been decorated with ribbons and tiny bells. Two other miko appeared behind her, similarly dressed, and both of them gaped at the stunning aristocrat, their mouths slightly open. Daisuke, likely used to such reactions, politely ignored them.

“Stop that.” Reika swatted one of the miko with a sleeve, making her jump. “Both of you. You look like a pair of gasping carp. Do not embarrass me tonight. Taiyo-san,” she continued, turning and bowing to Daisuke, making the golden bells in her hair jingle. “Forgive this inconvenience to your valuable time. I cannot express my gratitude enough.”

“Not at all, Reika-san,” Daisuke replied. “I’m glad to be of help. And a change in the court scenery will be good for everyone. Shall we go? The sun is setting, and it is a long walk to the palace.”

“A moment, please,” said the shrine maiden, stopping us. “There is one more who will be coming.”

Reaching into her sleeve, she withdrew an ofuda, the white strip of paper used to focus holy magic. The kanji forloyaltywas written down the surface, the same ofuda she’d brandished at me when we first met. Closing her eyes, the shrine maiden began chanting something under her breath, and the air around her began to stir with power.

“Guardian of the Hayate shrine,” I heard her whisper. “Most loyal of protectors, come to me.”

The wind around her scattered in all directions, rattling the branches overhead. We waited, holding our breath.

A furry creature trotted around the building and came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. It was a dog, small and lanky, with triangular ears, reddish-orange fur with a white belly, and a bushy tail curled tightly over its hindquarters. A crimson rope collar hung around its neck, a golden bell dangling from the very center.

Inu!I fought the sudden urge to leap back, to sprint down the veranda and duck into one of the rooms, closing the door between us. I’d never liked dogs, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. Once, when I was wandering the grounds outside the temple, a pair of village dogs, lean and ravenous-looking, had spotted me and given chase. None of my tricks had worked on them; they’d ignored the images of roaring bears and fleeing rabbits, as if somehow knowing they weren’t real. To escape my pursuers, I’d ended up climbing a tree, where I’d stayed until nightfall, when Denga had come looking for me and chased them off.

“Kit-kitsune?” Okame exclaimed, making me jump and look back at him. The ronin was staring at the dog with a bemused expression on his face. “The guardian of this shrine is a kitsune?”

“It’s not a fox,” I told him, relieved and just a tiny bit annoyed. “It’s a dog. Honestly, Okame, it doesn’t look anything like a fox.”

“This is Chu,” Reika said calmly, making the dog look up at her and wag its tail. “He is the guardian of the Hayate shrine. One half of them, anyway.” Her eyes clouded over, a furrow wrinkling her smooth brow. “Ko, the other protector, disappeared the night Master Jiro left. I think she was either summoned by the head priest, or sensed that he was in danger and went to find him, because neither of them has returned.”

“He is rather small for his type,” Daisuke said, in a voice that was trying to be kind. Okame snorted.

“Small? He’s a runt. How the hell is this lint ball the guardian of anything, unless he protects the shrine from sparrows and rats?”

Chu laced back his ears and growled at the ronin, baring a set of sharp white teeth.

Reika sighed. “This is the form that allows him to follow me into the city,” the shrine maiden told the ronin. “In fact, when he is wearing this body, he is hardly noticeable at all. He will even be able to slip past the gates of the Imperial Palace with little to no attention. One of his many talents—people simply don’t notice that he is there.” A slightly evil smile curled her lips as she gazed at the ronin. “Chu doesn’t hold grudges, but were I you, I would think twice about insulting him. His true form is much more...impressive.”

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