A deep growl came from the oni, sitting against the ruined statue. “You hit hard, for a mortal,” the monster rumbled, getting to its feet. “Well done, but it will not save you. The amanjaku are tearing your brothers apart as we speak. No one is left.” He craned his neck from side to side, rolled his shoulders forward and raised his club. “It is time to end these games. Let us see if you have the ki to do that again!”
The oni lunged with a roar. As he barreled forward, raising his club high overhead, Master Isao’s calm gaze flicked to me. In the moment our gazes met, he smiled.
Go, Yumeko-chan, whispered his voice in my head, gentle and serene. Run.
This time I didn’t wait to see what happened, if the terrible crash from the oni’s club struck home or not. I whirled and sprinted through the hole left from the fallen Prophet, scrambling over splintered beams and broken jade, whispering an apology as I stepped over a shattered green arm. Then I was outside, and the air was hot and choking. Blinded by tears, I tripped over a plank and skinned my hands when I fell, and the lacquered scroll case rolled away from me, gleaming in the firelight.
My blood chilled. Snatching it up, I half ran, half stumbled into the gardens, past the pond full of dead, floating carp, to the old maple tree leaning against the wall. After quickly tucking the scroll into the furoshiki and the tanto into my obi, I pulled myself up by the gnarled branches, wondering how the once familiar act could feel so strange and surreal. I wouldn’t be doing this ever again.
At the top of the wall, I spared one final look back at my home, the temple I’d lived in all my life, and felt a lump rise to my throat. The pagoda was now a skeletal ruin engulfed by flames, and the fire had spread to the other buildings, including the main hall. I could make out only the roof over the tops of the trees, but a stray ember on one corner had turned into a flame, which would quickly spread and consume the wooden building until there was nothing left. I didn’t dare imagine what was happening inside, the lives that were lost, the monks who stood bravely against a horde of demons. Everyone I’d ever known—Jin, Satoshi, Nitoru, Denga, Master Isao and all the rest—they were gone. They’d gone willingly to their deaths, all to protect the scroll.
A tiny globe of light, pale against the smoke and darkness, rose from the roof of the burning hall. It was joined by another, and then another, until there were more than a dozen glowing orbs rising slowly into the air and leaving trails of light behind them. My throat closed up, and fresh tears streamed down my cheeks. Not one of the spheres of light hesitated or stayed near the temple; all rose steadily toward the stars. They had no regrets, no lingering sorrows or thoughts of vengeance, nothing that tied them to this world. They were free.
Deep inside my chest, a tiny, blue-white flame of anger flickered, burning away the despair, and I breathed deep to banish the tears.
“I won’t fail,” I promised, as the lights drifted slowly away, toward Meido or the Pure Lands, or wherever they were headed. “If...if this is truly my destiny, then I’ll give it my all. Don’t worry, Master Isao, everyone. I’ll find the Steel Feather temple and protect the scroll, I promise.”
My words had no effect on the rapidly fading lights. They continued rising into the sky until they were no larger than the stars themselves, and disappeared.
I blinked rapidly. Safe journey, everyone. May we meet again, in this life or the next.
A hiss in the gardens drew my attention. Looking down, I met the crimson eyes of a demon, who jerked up as he saw me, as well. As it gave a shrill cry of alarm and raised its weapon, I dropped to the ground outside the wall and sprinted into the forest.
An Unexpected Proposal
The path had disappeared.
I hesitated in the shadows of the forest, listening, my hand curled around my sword hilt. Sometime during my dash up the mountain, the trail I’d been following had either vanished or I’d lost it somehow, for uninterrupted woods surrounded me, dark and thick. It wasn’t terribly problematic; I could still hear the roar of a conflagration, and the breeze through the branches carried the scent of smoke and blood. I was going in the right direction.
I feared what I would find when I got there.
There was a rustle in the bushes ahead, and Kamigoroshi gave a warning pulse, just as something exploded from the darkness and lunged at me. My blade cleared its sheath in an instant, whipping up toward my attacker’s face. It—she?—yelped and skidded to a halt, as my brain caught up to my reflexes. Hakaimono roared, goading me to continue the motion, to bathe the steel in blood. I wrenched myself from the howling bloodlust and forced my hands to stop.
The blade froze an inch from her neck. Panting, I looked across the glowing edge of the sword, into the face and wide black eyes of a girl.
She was my age, perhaps a bit younger. Small, petite, wearing a short crimson robe pattered with white swirls. Her black hair hung loose around her shoulders and down her back, and her large dark eyes, peering up at me, were round with shock.
For a moment, we stared at each other, bathed in the faint purple light of Kamigoroshi. Her face was dirty, smudged with ash and grime, and she was breathing hard, as if she had been fleeing the fire with the rest of the wildlife.
Then there was a snap in the trees behind her, and I realized why she’d been running.
“Get back,” I said, and shoved her behind me, as an amanjaku leaped through the bushes with a howl, a sickle raised over its head. I smacked the curved blade aside and slashed Kamigoroshi across its face, making it shriek and reel away. More demons swarmed from the bushes, stabbing and hacking wildly as they rushed forward. They died on my sword as I carved limbs from bodies and heads from torsos, black demon blood arcing into the air. Hakaimono reveled in their deaths, but I kept myself detached from the demon’s rage. I was the hand that wielded Kamigoroshi, nothing more. I felt nothing as I sent the creatures back to Jigoku.
When the last demon fell, I flicked steaming blood from my sword, sheathed Kamigoroshi despite the protests in my mind and looked around for the girl.
She peered from behind a tree trunk, watching me with big dark eyes. Surprised, I turned to face her fully. I had half expected her to be gone, fleeing the forest while the demons were busy attacking me. I caught the glint of metal in her hand and saw the hilt of a tanto clutched in her fist. Whether it was meant for me or the demons, I wasn’t certain.
“Merciful Jinkei,” she whispered, sounding breathless. Her eyes shone as she gazed around, at the fading tendrils of darkness on the wind. “You...that was...” Blinking, she looked up at me, her expression caught between awe and fear. “Who are you?”
Nothing. Nobody. A shadow on the wall, empty and unimportant. I turned away, toward the sound of distant flames. “Run,” I told the girl, not looking back. “Get out of here. Go to the village at the bottom of the mountain. You should be safe there.”
“Wait!” she cried as I started forward. I paused, but did not turn back. “You can’t go that way,” she said, and I heard her emerge from behind the tree. “It’s too dangerous. There are more demons, a whole horde of them. And there’s an oni!”
An oni. My eyes narrowed, even as Hakaimono gave the strongest flare of excitement I had ever felt from it. I had been killing dangerous yokai for the Shadow Clan
