Revenge of the Akuma Clan. Benjamin Martin

      SOMEWHERE IN JAPAN

      With the setting sun’s final rays blocked by layers of rock, the only illumination in the slimy cavern came from the green moss on the ceiling. Insects scurried along the few bits of ground free of mud as the sole occupant stared intently at a wooden statue. He perched on a fallen stalactite, his black hair nearly as dirty as the ripped black jacket hanging loosely on his shoulders.

      “I should have left you to rot in the police warehouse,” the boy said, crouched in a corner, his once proud arms wrapped around emaciated legs. Weeks alone had turned beautiful and often superficially cheery features into a drawn and haggard scowl. Weeks of skulking in barely habitable holes had made his injuries fester. Weeks of plotting had given him an air of intensity that neared the brink of sanity. His wild eyes peered past his tangled hair to the lifeless wooden statue, as if his intensity alone could coax an answer.

      The little wolf statue remained still, despite the fact it was no longer missing a paw. Chul Soon had replaced the missing piece, yet his brother still sat there, looking pathetic. Unlike the others—their statues destroyed in the fire—Natsuki had cut off Chul Moo’s arm before he was turned. When the fires raged he had not been whole. Without all the pieces, the fire could not consume him as it had the pack. Yet there was no triumph in the statue’s survival. The wooden featuresbetrayed his brothers’ thoughts. There was no rage, no thirst in them. Instead, some pitiful emotion stared back at him.

      “Weeks of trying to find out where they put the statue. All the work to get you out. And still nothing. You are as useless as ever. The one beneficial thing you ever did for us turned out to be the destruction of everything. You led us to the… to him.”

      With a sudden smile that did nothing to soften his hard features, Chul Soon jerked closer to the small statue. The wood looked nearly alive in the garish moss-light. Greasy hair swayed as sharp teeth moved to the statue’s pointed ears.

      “Oh, I know,” he whispered. “You still want her. And I want him, if in a different way. We will have them together. But first, a new spirit. We need to go hunting, brother.”

      Chul Soon had escaped the warehouse basement behind the Nakano supermarket. The storm drain he had found when he first scouted the new lair had saved him.

      ‘I was right to keep it from Jahangir,’ he thought, compulsively checking his surroundings. The thought of his mentor sent new pangs of rage through him. ‘I will find someone stronger. Someone I can use to destroy him.’

      With night deep around them, Chul Soon slipped silently through the dark Japanese forests. His goals clear, he became a shadow with a statue, unseen by even the most observant creatures.

      After the destruction of his pack, Chul Soon had fled. Thinking himself the only survivor, he had run like a dog, his tail between his legs. It had taken him days in Himeji to realize it had not been his fault—that Jahangir had been the weak one. He had let them down. It took even longer to realize the blame also belonged to Chul Moo. He had brought them Rie. His obsession with the girl had brought them to the attention of the Matsumotos.

      By all rights, he knew he should have run straight to the others. He should have gone and told them all that had happened. He should have shouted to all who would listen that there was a new Jitsugen Samurai. But no. The gaijin would be his. Chul Soon would be the one to end that problem, and the only way he could guarantee that was if the others only found out about it after.

      Many painful days before in Himeji, Chul Soon had found a newspaper about the fire in Nakano while stalking a stray cat. He recognized the opportunity at once and began searching for more information. A member of his pack was still alive. One of the other ōkami had escaped the Matsumotos’ fire at the warehouse. Though he was recognizable as a foreigner, Chul Soon remained hidden among the city’s many tourists. Safe, he formed his plans.

      It took him days to sneak back into Nakano. David and Takumi were observant. With their lackey ghost, they patrolled every night. Since he disappeared around the time of the fire, Chul Soon could not show up during the day as a human. He knew the policeman Yonamine and special investigators were still looking for the animals that had attacked Masao Matsumoto and Misaki so he could not rely on his wolf form for cover. He grew so hungry trying to sneak into town that he almost let his hunting instincts overwhelm him. Luckily, his rage was stronger than his stomach. Chul Soon waited until he could place all the Matsumotos, Yonamine, and even the two overly observant strangers that were supposed to be under-cover investigators. He crept into town, often sliding through muddy rainwater troughs next to rural roadways, until he was back at his old haunt. It took him three days to find the wooden shard in the burnt out basement. It was such a tiny sliver, but by its absence, the missing piece had kept the wooden statue from burning to dust.

      Of course, the wooden bit turned out to be the severed paw of the pack member he had hoped for least. Chul Soon had made it out of Nakano nearly starved. A few mice and a nature photographer came along at just the right time. The mice fed his body. The man fed his spirit. He was annoyed circumstances forced him to leave the man alive. His disappearance might lead to suspicions that would only make his upcoming task all the more difficult.

      Back in Himeji, it took Chul Soon all his self-control to keep from over indulging. The large city offered him enough cover to feed, and for the first time in his life, he was free of observation. Direct observation, he had to remind himself. Without Jahangir, his resources were limited. He could not access his accounts without tipping off certain other relatives. If he spent too much time on the streets, someone would notice and report him. Japan was a safe place. Everyone followed the rules.

      Chul Soon waited and read. The local papers told of the remarkable wooden statue that survived the fire. They covered the single missing piece and the fire investigation. Oddly, the newpapers never published a picture, and they dropped the story soon after.

      Despite stealing papers and watching café televisions

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