ã€ŠSengoku Demonsã€‹


 Chapter 1: Dont Open The Box

    ~~~

    The box was shaking again, violently.

    Five of the six ashigaru nearby stopped where they were and quickly drew their katanas, as if the ghost of Taira no Masakado were going to jump out any second and massacre them.

    A passing vanguard of scout ants stopped too, though they were too small to have katanas, or daggers, so they just gawped upwards at the giant monolith instead.

    ¡®Definitely something in there,¡¯ said Takuya, the largest and, judging by the spit that flew out with his voice, most brainlessly aggressive of the group.

    The other ashigaru replied chaotically, shouting over each other, their trembling blades aimed vaguely at the box¡¯s lid.

    ¡®Told you¡­I fucking told you it wasn¡¯t empty.¡¯

    ¡®You think it wants out?¡¯

    ¡®Gods, it¡¯s restless.¡¯

    ¡®Restless? Drunk more like.¡¯

    ¡®Could be a bear.¡¯

    ¡®No, it¡¯s a ghost!¡¯

    ¡®An enemy soldier!¡¯

    ¡®A bear ghost!¡¯

    ¡®Bear demon!¡¯

    ¡®Kappa!¡¯

    ¡®Bunch of idiot fucking brain cells pissing themselves over a box.¡¯

    ¡®Wah, who said that?¡¯ shouted Takuya, shifting his katana in the direction of Akira, the only member of the group who hadn¡¯t panicked at the sight of the vibrating box. If anything, he looked kind of bored.

    ¡®Point your toy somewhere else,¡¯ the lax ashigaru replied, stretching his arms out and yawning as he scanned the forest around them.

    ¡®Toy what?¡¯

    ¡®You heard me.¡¯

    ¡®This blade right here¡­a toy?¡¯

    ¡®Guess not.¡¯

    ¡®Stop bickering,¡¯ said one of the others, katana hand still shaking a little.

    ¡®Who?¡¯

    ¡®Both of you.¡¯

    ¡®Kuso, he just said our brains were¡­¡¯ Takuya paused, thinking back to what was just said and frowning. ¡®He said all your brains were pissing on the box.¡¯

    The four ashigaru with their katanas still half-drawn heard the word box and looked at it again. It had ceased its convulsion act and now appeared to be a regular box again. Well, not regular exactly; four feet long, two feet deep, lacquered wood, gold hinges, two sinister-looking birds carved on the side with wings the size of temples. It was definitely something valuable. And mysterious. And important. Lord Shingen himself, in person, without make-up, had instructed them to escort it to a specific worship point in the forest, and then yank off the lid, all without giving them any idea as to why.

    ¡®Okay, it¡¯s stable again,¡¯ muttered one of the ashigaru, patting the side of the box.

    ¡®Maybe we¡¯re imagining it. Heightened nerves or something.¡¯

    ¡®I am pretty tired.¡¯

    ¡®Or maybe it¡¯s Shingen¡¯s pet dog and we¡¯re taking it out for a walk.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, a little shih tzu maybe.¡¯

    ¡®With its mouth gagged so it can¡¯t bark.¡¯

    ¡®Gods below¡­¡¯ Akira shook his head and walked farther along the path, stopping beside a giant larch tree at the bottom of a generic slope. Next to it was a sign, worn down by previous winter storms and tilted slightly to the side.

    ¡®Worship Point ¨C 50M,¡¯ he read out loud.

    One of the other ashigaru, a young rookie called Yasu, appeared next to him and asked very politely how much longer it would take.

    Akira responded by pointing at the sign.

    ¡®Wah, I hope the M means metres.¡¯

    ¡®Ask your brain.¡¯

    Yasu coughed, performing a hasty bow. ¡®Sorry, meijin. I was just trying to lighten the-¡­¡¯

    ¡®Akira.¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­¡¯

    ¡®You know I hate all that honorific shit.¡¯

    ¡®But you¡¯re samurai. A higher rank.¡¯

    Akira let the word end then growled Akira again, clipped Yasu on the ear to make it stick then started up the slope.

    Behind them, the other ashigaru had sheathed their katanas and two of the larger ones were carrying the box forward again, with Takuya showing off his strength by using only one hand.

    ¡®Almost there,¡¯ he said, when they reached the sign.

    ¡®Thank the chubby cheeks of Ebisu,¡¯ replied Junto, the roundest of the group.

    ¡®Wah, don¡¯t say that, he might appear,¡¯ blurted out his polar opposite, Gen, waving a skinny arm in the air like a herbed-up geisha.

    ¡®Good, then I can thank him in person.¡¯

    ¡®No, no¡­he¡¯ll punish you.¡¯

    ¡®For saying thank you?¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m serious. All these gods are super sensitive. If you don¡¯t do exactly what they say, they¡¯ll get angry. And you want to call him here like a maid.¡¯

    ¡®Ah¡­maids,¡¯ said Junto dreamily, staring up into the autumn yellow canopy of the trees as they started up the slope. ¡®Probably the finest material pleasure this shit-stain world has to offer.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, long as they don¡¯t talk,¡¯ countered Takuya, his tone quite bitter.

    ¡®What do you mean? I love hearing them talk. They have the best stories. Did I ever tell you about the girl in Wakayama? She was fantastic. Had eyes like two little jade stones. Possibly mage-assisted, I don¡¯t know. And her stories¡­you won¡¯t believe this, but she told me that each warlord secretly has a cabal of child-eating demons assisting them, each one operating out of a local izakaya, in the back rooms, and-¡­no, it¡¯s true, the only reason no one knows about them is cos these demons can disguise themselves as humans. Usually beautiful women so they can get what they want from the warlord. And the reason they help the warlords is basically all down to the-¡­¡¯

    ¡®We¡¯re here,¡¯ said Akira, breaking Junto¡¯s tale and making him look confused for a second as he gawped at their surroundings.

    He wasn¡¯t alone either; all the other ashigaru were doing the same thing, standing in the forest clearing that had come out of nowhere, staring at the six hinoki poles dug into the ground nearby. On top of each pole was a polished human skull, with green paint smeared over the eye sockets.

    ¡®This is pleasant,¡¯ said Gen nervously, checking the gaps between the surrounding tree trunks.

    ¡®Fake, you mean,¡¯ answered Takuya, giving the signal to lower the box.

    ¡®Huh?¡¯

    ¡®Those skulls are clearly papier-mach¨¦.¡¯

    ¡®You think so?¡¯

    ¡®No samurai would leave a skull behind like this. They¡¯d bag it, take it home to show their family.¡¯

    ¡®True,¡¯ said Yasu, glancing over at Akira and nodding a little too enthusiastically. ¡®That¡¯s what a real samurai would do.¡¯

    ¡®And me,¡¯ agreed Gen. ¡®My wife loves skulls. Turns them into little cups.¡¯

    Takuya moved closer to one of the skulls and rubbed his finger over the green markings. Then ran it down the edge of the cheekbone. Satisfied, he turned back to the group and repeated, ¡®papier-mach¨¦.¡¯If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Akira did what he did best and shook his head in mild disgust. ¡®Let¡¯s just get this over with, shall we? It¡¯s starting to get dark.¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t be scared, big warrior man,¡¯ replied Takuya, mimicking the voice of a nervous child, ¡®there¡¯s a ryokan a few kilometres along the path, remember? We¡¯ll spend the night there.¡¯

    ¡®But¡­we¡¯re supposed to return to K¨­fu immediately,¡¯ interrupted Yasu, standing up straight. ¡®Those were our orders.¡¯

    ¡®Nonsense. They said as soon as the task is completed. Both of them, Shingen and Ka Yukio.¡¯

    ¡®That¡¯s the same thing.¡¯

    ¡®Are you arguing with a senior, boy?¡¯

    ¡®No¡­meijin. I was just saying what our orders were.¡¯

    ¡®Sounds like arguing to me.¡¯

    ¡®Leave the kid alone, Takuya,¡¯ said Junto, patting his stomach. ¡®He¡¯s only been with us a month.¡¯

    ¡®A long month,¡¯ muttered Gen.

    Takuya sucked in his gut and broadened his shoulders. ¡®Mind your own business, fatty. This is a matter of protocol. Juniors must know their place or our whole system is meaningless.¡¯

    ¡®Well, I think that ship sailed,¡¯ said Akira, just loud enough to be picked up, ¡®about eighty-odd years ago.¡¯

    Takuya¡¯s hand moved to the guard of his katana. ¡®What did you say?¡¯

    ¡®Sailed and sunk, to be more accurate.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah?¡¯

    Akira looked at the katana sliding slowly from its scabbard and smiled. ¡®Posturing again, Tak?¡¯

    ¡®Keep making jokes, dead man.¡¯

    ¡®Sure. But about what? Your performance at Un no Kuchi? How you led bravely from behind my back?¡¯

    Before Takuya could respond or growl, the box began shaking yet again. The other four ashigaru reached as one for their katanas, only this time none of them lost their wits enough to draw them.

    ¡®Someone nail that fucking lid shut,¡¯ barked Takuya.

    ¡®Can¡¯t do that, we¡¯re supposed to open it now,¡¯ replied Yasu, gesturing at the hinoki poles and the skulls. ¡®As soon as we get to the clearing. The exact orders of Lord Shingen.¡¯

    ¡®Fine, open it then.¡¯

    Yasu looked around at the others and then back at the box; the vibrations had become so strong that the lid had begun to lift itself up.

    ¡®It¡¯s a two-man job,¡¯ he said, glancing at Akira.

    ¡®I recommend Gen,¡¯ the older warrior answered, pulling out a sheet of rice paper from inside his d¨­buku and moving off to the other side of the clearing. Unrolling it, he started reading out names to himself; other daimy¨­ in nearby provinces and their starting salary offers.

    Yasu bit his tongue and turned to Gen.

    ¡®Bad back. Can¡¯t do it.¡¯

    Then to Takuya, who was glaring at him and jabbing his hand towards the box.

    ¡®Look, I need someone to help me,¡¯ Yasu barked, turning to the ashigaru who no one could remember the name of. ¡®You.¡¯

    ¡®I am fox fox boy from the pink river of Mooboo.¡¯

    ¡®No, the lid, can you help me with it?¡¯

    The nameless ashigaru closed his mouth, put three fingers on his nose and pinched. He did it so long that his face went red and his body fell to the ground.

    ¡®Leave him, he¡¯s insane,¡¯ said Takuya.

    Muttering curses to himself, Yasu turned finally to the only option left.

    ¡®I need a shit,¡¯ Junto said blankly, looking over at the trees.

    ¡®Now?¡¯

    ¡®No. Since we left K¨­fu. I¡¯ve been holding it for hours.¡¯

    ¡®But the lid¡­¡¯

    ¡®Sorry, kid, it¡¯s bad for the gut if you keep it in.¡¯

    Junto let out a deep breath and patted his stomach again, then wandered off between the larch trees. Yasu did another lap of the other ashigaru faces, saw that his one, potential ally, Akira, had almost disappeared from sight completely, then threw his hands up in the air and said, ¡®wah, who¡¯s gonna help me with this stupid lid?¡¯

    As soon as the moan was complete, the lid made a final grinding noise and then crashed to the ground with a surprisingly soft thud. One of its edges landed close to one of the hinoki poles, making the whole thing shudder and the skull on top roll from its perch.

    ¡®A great omen,¡¯ whispered Gen, looking down at the empty eye sockets pointed back at him.

    ¡®Right, it¡¯s off,¡¯ said Takuya, putting his katana away. ¡®Job done. Now let¡¯s see what it is that we¡¯ve been sweating over.¡¯

    Yasu nodded and turned to the box, putting a hand on one of the slats at the side and leaning over¡­

    ¡®Wah¡­¡¯ he spat out, stumbling back a step as something began to rise out of the box.

    ¡®What is that?¡¯

    ¡®A cat?¡¯

    ¡®Hair?¡¯

    ¡®Stowaway?¡¯

    The three ashigaru who weren¡¯t either unconscious on the ground, studying a list of potential new masters, or taking a shit, stared with their mouths slightly agape and their eyes watery as the head of a beautiful, dark-skinned woman emerged, followed by a thin smile on crimson lips, and, finally, shoulders without any kind of clothing material strapped onto them.

    ¡®She¡¯s¡­¡¯

    ¡®Can¡¯t be¡­¡¯

    ¡®¡­naked.¡¯

    ¡®¡­real.¡¯

    ¡®Is that smoke?¡¯

    Being the nearest to the box, Yasu was the first to notice the purple tinged vapour trailing the woman as she rose higher, and then also the first to comprehend that her skin appeared to stop dead below the collarbone and-¡­

    ¡®That¡¯s not possible,¡¯ he whispered, as the purple vapour grew thicker and the woman¡¯s head rose above them, the only part that was identifiably human.

    ¡®Demon!¡¯ shouted Takuya, pulling out his katana.

    ¡®Wait,¡¯ said Gen, tilting his head as if he were admiring a work of art. ¡®This is Lord Shingen¡¯s box.¡¯

    ¡®Yes, with a demon inside it.¡¯

    ¡®Exactly. His demon.¡¯

    The woman¡¯s head swayed the outline of an infinity logo, her eyes honing in on Gen. Sensing he had won an audience, the thin ashigaru took a step forward and held out his hands, gripping them together in a sign of friendship. At least that¡¯s what he hoped it was.

    ¡®We are the ones who have carried you here,¡¯ he said, raising his voice yet careful not to make it command-like. ¡®You have nothing to fear from us.¡¯

    ¡®What are you doing?¡¯ hissed Takuya, hand still clutching his katana.

    ¡®Diplomacy,¡¯ Gen whispered back.

    ¡®Well, it¡¯s annoying. Stop it.¡¯

    ¡®Hey, what¡¯s with all the yelling?¡¯ yelled Junto from somewhere among the trees nearby.

    The woman bobbed her head, studying the faraway trees, then floated on top of the purple mist around the three ashigaru below. Whether it was the mist controlling the head or vice versa was impossible to discern, and didn¡¯t really matter, as the overall effect was still creepy. Yet, at the same time, quite soothing.

    Probably due to the female face, thought Gen, as it drifted down to examine him close up.

    ¡®To be truthful, we did not know what was inside the box. If we had known it was a being such as yourself, we would¡¯ve made efforts to make your journey more comfortable.¡¯

    The woman¡¯s eyes narrowed, as did her mouth. ¡®Do you know what I find uncomfortable?¡¯ she asked, her voice half words, half breeze.

    ¡®Err¡­I¡¯m not sure.¡¯

    ¡®The box?¡¯ offered Yasu, seeing Gen¡¯s own discomfort.

    The woman shot a quick glance at the young ashigaru, then moved in closer to Gen, her mouth widening to reveal no teeth.

    ¡®Food that talks.¡¯

    ¡®Sorry?¡¯

    ¡®Food that screams, on the other hand¡­¡¯

    The open mouth grew larger, swallowing up the woman¡¯s entire head, and then dispersed into more purple mist. Before Gen could even utter the first sound of the ancient Japanese word for ¡®fuck¡¯, a strip of purple formed to his left and slashed diagonally across his chest.

    There was no feeling¡­until he tried to reach for his katana.

    And even then it was brief.

    Merely a cold, vacuum-like sensation in the middle of his lungs as the top half of his torso slid off and landed on a troupe of ants resting on the grass below. Luckily, none of them were seriously injured.

    Gen, however, was as dead as a sliced-in-half man could be.

    With his katana already out and well-angled, Takuya should¡¯ve been the first to react. However, the sight of the purple mist swirling around the blood-lined midriff of his comrade, making pedantic little slash marks on the remaining skin, rooted him to the spot.

    ¡®Gen¡­¡¯ he whispered, barely even a word.

    Another strip of purple detached from its source and streamed towards him, performing a series of side swipes that left him with cuts on his face and neck.

    Still he didn¡¯t move.

    ¡®Meijin¡­¡¯ screamed Yasu, charging at the mist from behind with his katana pointing slightly to the side, ready to slash.

    The stream of mist made no attempt to adjust its position. Instead, it used its other strip to pick up Gen¡¯s lower body and fling it at Yasu¡¯s head.

    It connected, knocking him off balance but not off his feet, as he stabbed his katana down into the dirt to steady himself.

    ¡®Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ka ka ka ka,¡¯ screamed the oddball ashigaru on the floor, waking up from his self-enforced nap.

    Yasu looked down confused, expecting to see the purple mist attacking his comrade-in-arms, but there was none. Only the tip of his own katana sticking out of the weird ashigaru¡¯s left hand.

    ¡®Kuso¡­¡¯ he said, pulling his katana out and getting a geyser of blood in the face.

    ¡®Waaaaaaaa tatatata waaaaa tatataa,¡¯ continued the injured ashigaru, even louder than a minute ago, and before Yasu could bend down and tell him to put a sock in it, a blur of purple swarmed past and silenced him for good.

    ¡®No, no, no¡­¡¯ said Yasu, wiping the blood from his face, then closing his eyes completely when he saw the mutilated pieces of his mad comrade on the ground below.

    ¡®Yasu,¡¯ muttered Takuya, still frozen, as the mist rushed back to him, the woman¡¯s face reforming itself. ¡®Do something¡­¡¯

    ¡®You are far too tall,¡¯ she said, nodding at her own words, then using her purple vapour tail to swipe at his legs.

    As with Gen, the mist cut through like a laser, separating Takuya at the knees and putting him flat on his back next to the fleeing troupe of ants.

    ¡®Still too tall,¡¯ said the woman¡¯s head, floating directly above him, then utilising her tail again to take off his head.

    ¡®Meijin,¡¯ yelled Yasu, pushing himself forward again, his katana aimed directly ahead.

    ¡®You are particularly annoying,¡¯ the woman replied, spinning back round.

    ¡®Die demon!¡¯

    ¡®And loud.¡¯

    The woman¡¯s head subsumed itself back into the body of mist and shot a tendril at inhuman speed right into Yasu¡¯s mouth. The young ashigaru¡¯s lunatic charge halted instantly, with both hands reaching for his own throat, clawing at the thing inside. He gasped desperately for breath, accidentally kicked his katana, tried to conjure up enough strength in his vocal chords to scream, ¡®die demon,¡¯ one more time¡­

    ¡®Silly human boy,¡¯ whispered the woman, blowing purple wisps into his eyes.

    The tip of the tendril burst out of his stomach, followed by the rest of its arm. Yasu¡¯s torso had little choice but to split in two and spill his lower organs onto the grass below.

    Despite this, and to the young man¡¯s credit, he did manage to spit out the D of Die demon before expiring.

    ¡®Beautiful,¡¯ said the woman¡¯s head, bobbing serenely on waves of purple mist, admiring her work.

    ¡®Keep it down will you¡­¡¯ came another shout from the trees. ¡®I¡¯m trying to get the second part of this shit out.¡¯

    The woman¡¯s head turned, scanned the surrounding trunks and canopy, then shot off at murderous mist speed towards the voice.

    ~~~

    About fifty metres away from the clearing, Junto leaned forward until his hands were gripping his ankles and tried one more squeeze.

    He even said a strangled ¡®please¡¯ to go with it.

    But it was no good.

    Just like the last Ebisu knows how many times, he couldn¡¯t shit properly. The first part, okay, but there was always something left that just wouldn¡¯t come out. And he knew if he didn¡¯t get it out now, his stomach would start aching later and then his whole dinner schedule would be ruined.

    ¡®Stupid asshole,¡¯ he grunted, glaring at the small of his back. ¡®Just do what I say for once, will you?¡¯

    The asshole didn¡¯t reply.

    Shaking his head, Junto glanced back towards the clearing. At least it was quieter now, he thought. All that screaming had really been pissing him off. Trained ashigaru acting like little kids, for what? It was probably just some animal bones or human skulls in the box, nothing they hadn¡¯t seen before.

    Unless it wasn¡¯t.

    But what else could it be?

    Trying one final squeeze and almost passing out from the effort, he pulled himself back up into a sitting position and said, ¡®hey,¡¯ to the pretty face bobbing on purple mist no more than a metre in front of him.

    Wait, what¡­

    ¡®Let me help you with that,¡¯ said the woman¡¯s head, smiling as a purple tendril rose up and then sailed through Junto¡¯s guts as if they were the lightest sponge.

    He rolled forward into the mist, the second part of his shit spilling out onto the grass, just missing another troupe of ants awaiting the return of their scouting party.

    The vapour swirled and this time crackled with electric sparks as Junto¡¯s head and heart were consumed by the demon.

    When the feast was done, the mass of purple funnelled itself into the shape of a full-bodied woman, with the same head as before. Licking her fingers, she looked down at the remains of Junto, and then back over towards the clearing.

    ¡®Fat man here, four over there¡­¡¯ She paused, taking the finger out of her mouth and jabbing her chin. ¡®And one more for dessert.¡¯

 Chapter 2: A High-Ranking Smoke Demon

    ~~~

    Kuso, kuso, right ahead, run, go, kuso, right ahead, go, go, go, go, Akira yelled manically at his own brain as he ran at ninety per cent top speed through the forest, a full hundred out of the question in case it made him trip.

    Somewhere behind him, another scream rang out, the same notes the others emitted when they were getting butchered by whatever that purple smoky shit was.

    Shingen¡¯s pet mage probably.

    Or one of those child-eating demons Junto was going on about.

    No, don¡¯t think about it, the ashigaru told himself, focusing on the dozens of trees blurring past him. A few more yards and I should re-connect with the path. From there¡­the ryokan? The forest on the other side? Or just keep running, and hope the purple stuff doesn''t catch up?

    He had no idea which was the correct answer, and worse, couldn¡¯t figure out how to calm his breathing long enough to make a rational decision.

    This whole situation was insane.

    A dark-skinned woman rising out of a box, turning into a bank of purple mist, massacring his comrades. At least, that was the logical assumption. He¡¯d caught the smallest sight of what it¡¯d done to Gen and that had been enough to start him running. But perhaps the others had survived?

    Junto was a decent fighter, so was Takuya¡­the less said about Yasu the better, but maybe they¡¯d done okay.

    In the distance, another scream.

    Or maybe not.

    He slowed down to 80% speed and glanced backwards, not really expecting to see anything, but trying anyway. Nope, nothing, only the trees he¡¯d passed, some of them with the same green paint from the human skulls smeared on them.

    Okay, they¡¯re all dead, he decided. You can¡¯t kill smoke, not by stabbing it, and katanas were the only thing on hand. So they¡¯d all died. Together. While he ran away like a small child in the opposite direction. A small child with brains and a functioning survival instinct. Sorry, guys.

    Ah, perhaps they lasted long enough to slow it down.

    Or they struck it in the head?

    If just one of them could hold out on dying and taunt it for a-

    The scenery in front suddenly lost all its trees, all bushes, all ground, replacing them seamlessly with a blanket of sky. Akira stopped running and arched himself backwards, the latter action enough to stop him stumbling forwards and plummeting down the side of the cliff that had just materialised in front of him like a magic trick.

    ¡®Kuso¡­¡¯ he said, mostly spit and panic.

    Getting his breath back and thanking the universe [then cursing it for putting the cliff there in the first place], he edged closer to the edge of the precipice that had almost eaten him up and peered over.

    ¡®Ah, not that bad,¡¯ he said quietly.

    He was right. The drop below was more of a steep slope than a cliff drop and, by his own estimation, wouldn¡¯t be impossible to traverse. As long as he avoided the sharper rocks poking out here and there and kept close to the grass root clumps then it shouldn¡¯t be too bad.

    ¡®Are you going to jump, little dog?¡¯

    Akira spun fast, almost tripping over his own boot as he made a grab for the katana guard. Luckily, he had just enough experience as a soldier to steady himself at the last second, and pull out his blade in an orderly fashion.

    For all the good it would do.

    The dark skinned woman observed him from the nearest tree, her back leaning casually against its trunk, as purple mist wisped and swirled around the rest of her make-believe body. There was a simple, white kosode fitted around it, but Akira had no idea if it was made from actual, physical cloth or just another part of the magic show.

    ¡®Well?¡¯ she asked, miming a jumping action with her fingers.

    Akira¡¯s training told him not to respond. Not yet. His voice might tremble at the beginning of his words or the end of them, or any part to be frank, and he couldn¡¯t allow the enemy to see his fear. Even if they were oddly attractive.

    Instead, he pointed his katana vaguely forward and adjusted himself into a hunched position.

    ¡®You humans are incredibly tedious,¡¯ the woman said, purple vapour rolling out of her mouth as she spoke. ¡®Using your silly metal sticks to attack things you cannot comprehend. Not answering questions when asked. Imagining sexual activity with something that is about to mutilate you.¡¯

    Akira closed his eyes, cancelling the picture he¡¯d just conjured up of himself and the smoke woman in an onsen; him massaging her shoulders, her saying she¡¯d never met anyone as resilient as him before.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    The woman laughed, creating an eerie whistling sound to accompany it. ¡®Ah, I was right, wasn¡¯t I?¡¯

    He squinted, moving weight to the other leg.

    ¡®Humans truly are simple creatures. Especially the male types.¡¯

    Okay, he thought, she¡¯s not telepathic then. Which means I can still strategize. Attackable points? Possibly the head. But not guaranteed. Could be compound mist. Escape? Yes, much better. Safer.

    Turning his head an inch to the left, he glanced down at the rock-spotted slope.

    Detecting his movement, the woman glanced too.

    It¡¯s right behind you, Akira told himself. If you turn and jump well enough, there¡¯s a chance you can make it down there without getting hurt.

    ¡®Yes¡­I really do think you should try,¡¯ the woman said, her left arm turning back into mist and creeping towards him. ¡®If you make it down unscathed, you can run to Shingen. Tell him what happened here. Persuade him to send reinforcements.¡¯

    Akira gripped his katana tight, looking at the smirk on the woman¡¯s lips as her head and torso evaporated into purple then slowly rebuilt itself into a more familiar form.

    ¡®You¡­¡¯

    ¡®I thought you might recognise me.¡¯

    Akira nodded out of habit, but didn¡¯t say anything more. The whole thing¡­was unreal. Atta Noe, Shingen¡¯s advisor, lover, whatever her role happened to be, was a demon. A fucking purple smoke demon. Or a fucking purple smoke demon was pretending to be Atta Noe. And it was standing there, unarmed, toying with him. Like a fucking wretch child.

    ¡®How about those reinforcements?¡¯ the demon who may or may not have been Atta Noe said, her mist-arm-tendril still drifting towards him. ¡®Shingen will reward you greatly for exposing me.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, by bringing me back here,'' Akira muttered, marking the ground with his blade.

    Atta Noe tilted her head, the mist that was previously her left arm pausing on its trajectory towards Akira¡¯s head.

    ¡®Probably not the first time he¡¯s done it either.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, a caustic one¡­¡¯

    Akira moved his right foot back a step, positioning himself as best he could to turn and jump. If he was lucky, he¡¯d have at least a full second of observation time to decide on his route before the demon could reach him.

    ¡®I may not be an expert on your kind,'' she continued, examining the palm of her own right hand, ''but isn¡¯t it tradition for ashigaru to return to their master, no matter their fate?¡¯

    ¡®Only the brainless ones.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, individualism. Just like my dear Shingen. Very good.¡¯ Her palm and the arm attached to it disintegrated into purple mist and followed the path of its twin. ¡®I admit, you are more of a distraction than your comrades were. It is almost a pity that I must consume a large number of your internal organs. Almost.¡¯

    Akira wasn¡¯t at all surprised by her words, he¡¯d guessed she¡¯d be eating some part of him, but the sudden turn of speed from the mist that used to be her right arm did catch him off guard, swiping his neck before he could raise his katana to block.

    Not that it mattered.

    The blade wouldn¡¯t have penetrated the purple vapour and he had no idea where her vital organs were, or if she even had any. And that was academic now, too, as the other arm of mist was shooting towards his chest and the only thing he could think to do was dodge.

    Pushing his torso backwards, he lifted up his legs and surrendered himself to the gods of chance. The mist sailed an inch past his left arm, which probably would¡¯ve looked impressive to a casual observer if he hadn¡¯t also been falling backwards down an almost vertical slope with sharp rocks sticking out.

    As would his last ditch throwing of his katana towards the demon¡¯s head, if that same head hadn¡¯t dissipated into yet more mist to avoid the blow.

    Ah well, he thought as he rolled over and up and over and up and over again all the way down the slope. I gave it my best shot. At least I didn¡¯t die while taking a shi-

    His thoughts were cut out instantly as his head connected with a sturdy rock and his body continued downwards, finally coming to rest on a path in the clearing below.

    It appeared that the gods of chance were smiling on him, though, as he wasn¡¯t dead. Unconscious and bleeding seriously from the back of the head, yes, but not dead.

    The mist demon hovered at the top of the slope, remaining in her most common human form: Atta Noe, advisor to Lord Shingen of Kai Province. From her perch, she surveyed the terrain below, retracing Akira¡¯s path down the slope and making a kind of gothic whistling sound.

    It may have been annoyance, or admiration, there were no words from Atta Noe to clarify, but it continued as she evaporated completely into mist form and sailed in three separate channels down to the path below.

    In response, Akira continued lying unconscious on the dirt-grass, defenceless, about to be slaughtered in his sleep, katana stuck in the trunk of a tree at the top of the slope, comrades all dead.

    Yet the purple mist did not attack.

    It swirled in lines of three near the edge of the path, as if taunting the unconscious ashigaru, then merged into one form again, the dark-skinned woman, her hands launching forward and striking some kind of invisible wall.

    Whatever it was, it didn¡¯t break.

    She tried again, this time spinning herself into a purple ball of mist with crackles of electricity escaping in chaotic bursts, and then unleashing it in one ferocious stream.

    Again, she couldn¡¯t proceed.

    No more than three metres between her and the prone ashigaru and she couldn¡¯t get to him.

    The body of the dark-skinned woman re-emerged and gazed back up the slope, her head performing sporadic jerking movements. Then she became mist again, gusting up the side of the slope and disappearing into the trunks of the trees.

    A minute passed.

    The path and the clearing and the sleeping ashigaru became a landscape painting.

    Man at rest in rural Japan.

    Or:

    Bleeding Man at rest in rural Japan.

    It didn¡¯t last long.

    At the top of the slope, the dark-skinned woman returned, casually dance-stepping down the dirt of the precipice. In her left hand, Akira¡¯s katana, the tip of the blade slicing off the taller clumps of grass as she made her way to the edge of the path.

    ¡®I would wait for you to wake up,¡¯ she said, holding up the blade and doing a few practice swings. ¡®But I might miss. And that would be quite embarrassing.¡¯

    An obese cloud cruised past the sun, bringing a flavour of German Expressionism to the scene.

    Atta Noe looked up and around and smiled at the invading shadow, then returned to targeting practice.

    ¡®Torso, not head, torso, not head, torso, not head¡­¡¯

    Making sure the katana was straight, she vetoed her own mantra, adjusted her aim to Akira¡¯s head and let go of the handle.

    The sharp strip of metal sailed through the unseen particles of air and landed with an apologetic dumpf about seven inches from Akira¡¯s left ear.

    Staring at the katana, then her own aiming hand, Atta Noe morphed the other arm into mist and sliced the useless thing clean off. The hand dropped onto the grass and flipped over a couple of times before dispersing into its natural purple state.

    ¡®¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­¡¯ she screamed, definitely not Japanese, definitely something stronger than oops.

 Chapter 3: Was Doing Okay Until The Death Threat

    ~~~

    Stopping dead in the middle of the path, Miho held up the bun he¡¯d just bitten into and frowned.

    Grey with blue bits.

    Not a typical colour for chicken, he thought, digging out one of the blue pieces with his fingernail and analysing it. But the guy selling it did say it was Kumamoto style, so maybe that¡¯s what chickens looked like down there?

    Grey meat with flecks of blue.

    Taking another bite, he remembered the kindly smile of the old man with the makeshift bun stall. Yeah, must be Kumamoto style. No way someone like that would misrepresent his own food products.

    Miho started walking again, breathing in deep the fresh forest air and admiring the weird green slashes painted onto the occasional tree trunk. It was invigorating to be this far from home, the path ahead full of potential and possibility...and hopefully, at some point, his beautiful, elusive Yuki.

    Ah, how long had it been now? Three months?

    She could¡¯ve been halfway across the country already, or in the capital...or even in Kumamoto eating this weird-coloured chicken.

    He paused again, his stomach cramping up and making a growling noise.

    That didn¡¯t feel right.

    Holding the bun closer to the sun overhead, he did another quick study. Grey meat with blue bits¡­was there any possible way it made sense?

    In the distance, a bird screeched.

    Miho lowered the bun and followed the sound somewhere to the right. Far as he could tell it was a bird, but when the same sound echoed out again, he thought it seemed more like a person.

    ¡®An attack¡­¡¯ he said out loud, reaching for the small dagger tucked into his obi.

    The forest gave no response.

    No more screeches, bird or human.

    He waited a bit longer, keeping his breath low. Then, after a bird in the canopy nearby whistled out something more melodic, he took his hand off the dagger and resumed walking.

    Probably a bird fight, he assured himself. Or bird ambush.

    It had been two and half hours since he¡¯d left K¨­fu and so far he¡¯d met just one other person; the old man who¡¯d sold him the chicken bun. The chances of a random group of others battling each other nearby was so tiny that it was barely even a possibility.

    Unless it was one of those secret training camps for ninja spies?

    Almost on cue, a heavily splintered sign appeared on the right side of the path, slightly tilted. WORSHIP POINT ¨C 200M. He moved closer, searching for smaller text. Nope, nothing.

    But then ninjas wouldn¡¯t actively promote their camp.

    Would they?

    He turned to the sloped path indicated by the sign, watching the leaves shiver from the breath of the mountains.

    Ninjas or not?

    In truth, he had no idea. There had been tales in his village, mostly from Kentaro 2 and River Bitch, about Shingen using corpses possessed with demonic spirits as ninja assistants, but only about one third of the village had believed it. And in that third was about ninety-five per cent of the elderly population.

    So it probably wasn¡¯t true.

    He lifted the bun up to his mouth and took another bite, grimacing when he realised what he¡¯d done.

    Then mellowing a little as he chewed.

    Just about edible, he told himself, swallowing. If you bypass the taste buds. And picture a red bean bun instead of grey and blue chicken.

    Still¡­I should probably stop.

    After the next bite.

    ~~~

    Walking for another ten or fifteen minutes, and warning himself at least four more times to stop eating the bun, Miho reached a narrow stretch of open field.

    The trees pushed back on both sides, as did the foliage, and the slope on the right re-costumed itself as a full-on cliff.

    Ah, finally, a bit of space, he thought, stopping for a moment to take a piss. Even though there were no other travelers around, he decided to play it safe and traipsed over to the tree line on the far left, concealing himself behind one of the larger trunks.

    His mother¡¯s gentle voice floated into his head, saying, literally, piss on the road and I¡¯ll castrate you. Strangely, it had worked. Even if he were desperate, he would always find a bush or a stream, never a walkway.

    As he shook off the final drops of his oddly dark urine [Kumamoto style chicken related?], a scream filled the air. That¡¯s no bird, he thought.

    He was correct; it was a woman. An extremely shrill one who could probably shatter glass if placed close enough, but a woman all the same.

    Initiating brainless hero mode, Miho hurried out from the trees and followed the fading echo of the scream. It seemed to be coming from up ahead to the right, so he jogged forward along the path, making sure to avoid the occasional potholes and sneaky rocks embedded in the hardened dirt, until the trees on the left curved in closer and the cliff on the other side mellowed into a slightly less precarious slope.

    Keeping his eyes locked right, he caught something odd; a wisp of purple smoke coming from the higher tree line. Ninja vapour?

    He was so distracted by it that he didn¡¯t notice the lump of clothes on the path directly in front of him, and when he did finally spot it, he was already tumbling down onto a surprisingly firm mound of soil.

    ¡®Kuso¡­¡¯ he swore, rubbing his shoulder as he lifted himself back up onto his feet.

    Looking behind at the thing that had toppled him, he let out a gasp. It wasn''t merely a lump of clothes, it was a clothed human, a man human, dead on the ground.

    Or not dead, but injured?

    Was that what this was?

    Forgetting the sore shoulder, Miho shot forward and checked the unconscious figure for a heartbeat. Ah, it was faint, but he was alive. And there was blood coming from the back of his head. Didn¡¯t look like a slash wound, but he was no doctor, or warrior, so he couldn¡¯t be completely sure.

    ¡®Excuse me, meijin¡­¡¯ Miho said, lightly shaking the man¡¯s shoulders.

    There was a kind of brrrrrr noise, but no distinct words. And his eyes were still clamped shut.

    ¡®Sir, can you hear me?¡¯ Miho tried again.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    No response.

    Giving up on the shaking strategy, he felt inside his own pockets for something to assist his efforts. There was no water left in his flask as he¡¯d drunk all of it to wash away the taste of that chicken, and he didn¡¯t have herbs or any of that new ball-shaped medicine from China cos that stuff was expensive.

    What could he do?

    The only realistic thing that came to mind was the ryokan he was heading to. But that was another five or six kilometres along the path. He could probably carry him some of the way, but not the whole distance, not without some kind of active, conscious leg movement from the man himself.

    ¡®Kuso,¡¯ he said again, more at the hopelessness of the situation than anything.

    Didn¡¯t this man have friends? What was he even doing out here, all on his own?

    Miho let out an angry breath through both nostrils then another gasp [his third?] as he finally noticed the katana laying in the dirt nearby. Wah, where did that come from? Was this a samurai attack?

    Wiping pre-emptive sweat off his brow, he scanned the surrounding area again. The path was deserted, in both directions, and the slope didn¡¯t seem to show any sign of-

    He paused, pushing his head forward and squinting like an elderly person at the wet market.

    Was that¡­

    Coming very cautiously down the slope, with the hem of her cloud-white yukata pulled up to avoid clipping the jagged rocks sticking out from the ground, was a woman.

    Even with the distance between them, Miho could see she was pretty, and when she got to within talking range, he added exotic to the description, mainly because there were little plumes of purple smoke rising off her shoulders.

    Was this the one who¡¯d screamed, he wondered.

    Did she know the man?

    Was that her katana?

    ¡®Oh, thank all the gods,¡¯ she said, coming to a stop about a metre from the edge of the path and acting out a praying gesture with her hands. ¡®I thought he had perished for sure.¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­¡¯ Miho stammered, not sure how to respond.

    ¡®And my gratitude to you as well, young man. Tell me, did you see the villain he was pursuing? Is he dead?¡¯

    ¡®Sorry, I didn¡¯t see anyone,¡¯ replied Miho, attracted again to the purple mist rising from her shoulders. ¡®Is he-¡­are you his friend?¡¯

    ¡®Then he has gotten away.¡¯ She looked at the katana laying on the path, then back up to Miho. ¡®Please, young man, if it is not too much trouble, could you help bring my friend back to our camp?¡¯

    ¡®Your camp?¡¯

    ¡®My other friends are waiting there.¡¯

    Miho looked over to the slope, trying to find the rope that could be used to help lift this wounded man up there. If not rope, then some other device. Obviously, she couldn¡¯t expect him to lift a grown man all the way up there by himself.

    ¡®Quickly, please. It looks like a lot of blood is pouring from his head.¡¯

    ¡®Couldn¡¯t one of your friends come down to help lift him?¡¯

    ¡®Of course, I will call to them when we reach the bottom of the slope. But we must begin moving him immediately.¡¯

    Miho nodded, still unsure, and bent down to the injured man. There would be no easy way to pick him up, his body was the strong, well-stacked type, but he couldn¡¯t just leave him in the middle of the path. A horse might come and step on him.

    As he tucked a hand under the man¡¯s armpit, there was a groaning noise from the victim himself. His eyelids fluttered for a moment, but refused to do any more than that.

    ¡®Maybe we should call your friends down first,¡¯ said Miho, standing up again but too coy to look the woman directly in the eye. ¡®Or better still, there¡¯s a ryokan a little farther along the road. We could take him there.¡¯

    ¡®No.¡¯

    ¡®They¡¯re likely to have herbs and medical equipment¡­¡¯

    ¡®He is needed back in camp. Please, lift him now. Bring him over to me.¡¯

    Miho followed the woman¡¯s hand and saw it was pointing directly at her feet. Was that where she wanted him to be brought? Did it have softer grass or something? And why were her eyes suddenly lilac?

    He rubbed his neck, growing more and more suspicious. His heart was saying, do as the pretty woman says, but his head was telling him to keep back, the whole situation was weird.

    Reluctantly obeying his head, Miho looked back along the path and said it¡¯d probably be best if her friends came down and helped carry the man to the nearby ryokan. ¡®Cos I¡¯m not sure what kind of medical supplies you have up there,¡¯ he added, aiming a sceptical glance at the canopy sticking out from the top of the slope

    The woman waited a long time before responding and, when she did, it wasn¡¯t what Miho was expecting. Sliding one hand beneath her yukata, she told him that she would be very, very grateful if he could bring her friend to the bottom of the slope for her.

    Miho watched the woman pull the yukata to the left, revealing the pale skin of her shoulder.

    ¡®If you do that for me, I will give you one full hour of my complete attention.¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­what about your friends?¡¯

    ¡®Them too.¡¯

    ¡®No, I mean¡­can your friends just come down here and help us?¡¯

    ¡®Do you not find me attractive, young man?¡¯

    ¡®Me? Well¡­yeah. Kind of. I mean, yes, you are beautiful. Obviously. But I¡¯m spoken for already. Actually, that¡¯s why I¡¯m on this path, I¡¯m on a quest to find her again. You haven¡¯t seen her, have you? Pale skin, also very beautiful, doesn¡¯t smile much. Goes by the name of Yuki¡­if she can be bothered to say it. She¡¯s a bit anti-social sometimes.¡¯

    Miho paused, realising the woman was staring at him. Her yukata was back in place and the purple wisps around her shoulders were starting to swirl more erratically.

    ¡®I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re aware, but there¡¯s some kind of¡­purple smoke¡­coming off your body.¡¯

    She switched her gaze to the ashigaru, shaking her head. ¡®We don¡¯t have time for this. I am Atta Noe, advisor to Lord Shingen, and my samurai protector is dying. And that villain could return at any moment to finish him off. I require you to at least pull him over to that tall clump of grass there. Allow him to be safely concealed while I go and call my friends.¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯re connected to the Takeda Clan?¡¯

    ¡®No, I am advisor to Lord Shingen himself, with the power to bestow reward and riches as I see fit¡­even to a simple village boy. Now, will you carry my friend?¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­¡¯

    Miho measured the distance to the clump of grass, then checked the path again. No sign of anyone else yet, though the woman was probably right. Whoever had attacked this¡­samurai¡­could return, and with reinforcements too.

    ¡®Okay, I will take him to that grassy patch.¡¯

    The woman placed her hands together and repeated the praying gesture from earlier. ¡®You are a kind soul.¡¯

    Miho let out a reluctant, ¡®yeah, I suppose,¡¯ a bit embarrassed suddenly that he wasn¡¯t taking the samurai all the way up the slope, or at least attempting to. But then he remembered that he wasn¡¯t a sumo wrestler and that kind of effort was way beyond his physical abilities.

    Removing his d¨­buku and placing it carefully on the ground, he bent down and put both hands under the samurai¡¯s armpits. Taking a few deep breaths, he started to drag him towards the woman.

    ¡®Wah, he¡¯s not as heavy as I thought¡­maybe cos I¡¯m sliding him along the ground instead of-¡­¡¯

    Miho¡¯s analysis was broken by the arm of the samurai shooting up and grabbing him by the neck. Followed by the strangled words: ¡®Don¡¯t.¡¯

    ¡®Wah, he¡¯s conscious¡­¡¯

    ¡®Faster, keep pulling,¡¯ said the woman, taking a step forward and then, for some reason, bouncing back again.

    ¡®Are you okay? Can you hear me?¡¯ Miho asked the samurai, slightly relieved that his arms could take a rest.

    ¡®Deem,¡¯ the man replied, opening his eyes and blinking like a lunatic at the sky.

    ¡®Sorry?¡¯

    ¡®Demon,¡¯ he repeated, wildly swinging his arm backwards, clipping Miho on the ear.

    ¡®Did you say demon?¡¯

    The samurai opened his mouth and coughed several times before finally forcing the words out. ¡®Woman¡­is a demon.¡¯

    ¡®Who?¡¯

    ¡®Woman¡­purple smoke¡­demon.¡¯

    Miho squinted as if the words were visible bubbles of text in the air, then gave up and turned back to the woman. ¡®I think he said there¡¯s a-¡­¡¯

    ¡®¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­¡¯

    The interruption sounded more like a violent melodic refrain than Japanese, but that didn¡¯t matter as Miho was too stuck on the imagery in front of him to notice.

    And with good reason.

    It was like some mythological stage play, out of nowhere, had been dropped down into the clearing. Hell pays a visit to Kai Province, Act 1, scene 1.

    No, weirder than that.

    The woman¡­who had been a woman a minute earlier¡­was now only half there. Her head, shoulders, hair and nothing else were¡­somehow¡­floating on a giant, chaotic cloud of purple mist. And that mist was whipping out tendrils towards the path, towards him¡­but falling short¡­like they were crashing into some kind of invisible wall before they could connect.

    Miho reeled back regardless, assuming at least one of them would break through and hit him.

    Fortunately, he assumed wrong.

    The tendrils ceased their attack and the woman¡¯s head bobbed closer, her eyes boring through him. ¡®Bring the ashigaru to me, and you may be spared.¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯re on fire,¡¯ was all Miho could manage in response.

    ¡®This is a temporary offer.¡¯

    Weird fire¡­

    ¡®Ending in five seconds.¡¯

    With no physical body¡­

    ¡®I suggest you start dragging.¡¯

    He blinked a dozen times, still trying to make sense of what he was seeing. It wasn¡¯t fire, and it wasn¡¯t a normal woman. What was it? A demon?

    Were demons even real?

    ¡®Stop gawping and bring him to me, wretch.¡¯

    ¡®Will you-¡­what will you do with him?¡¯

    ¡®Consume his organs.¡¯

    Miho nodded, he didn¡¯t know why. There was no way he could just give a man over to have his insides eaten. But he also didn¡¯t wanna piss off something that was half made of purple smoke.

    ¡®Move him now,¡¯ the woman commanded, calming her mist tendrils a little.

    ¡®I can¡¯t¡­do that.¡¯

    ¡®Do it.¡¯

    ¡®Sorry¡­no.¡¯

    ''Move him.¡¯

    ¡®I can¡¯t.¡¯

    ¡®¡­ ¡­ ¡­¡¯

    ''It doesn''t feel right.''

    The purple mist stopped abruptly, each tendril moving inwards to merge with the core.

    ¡®Then you are both dead,¡¯ intoned the woman, her voice and head absorbed into the smoke as it trailed at unnatural speed back up the slope and into the shadows of the forest.

    Miho watched it vanish with his peripheral vision as the main parts of his eyes remained focused on the spot where the bizarre purple light show had happened. Where the woman had been standing. Where she''d looked pretty and seductive and dropped the shoulder of her yukata...then turned into a purple cloud and threatened to kill him.

    He stood there for a long time, staring.

    At the dirt.

    Looking for purple residue.

    Waiting for the woman to come back down the slope and say, ¡®ha! Just kidding.¡¯

    But it didn¡¯t happen.

    Nothing did.

    Apart from the occasional shout of ¡®demon¡¯ from the delirious samurai below.

    ¡®Daydream,¡¯ Miho mumbled finally, shifting attention to the remains of the chicken bun sticking out of his obi bag. ¡®Has to be.¡¯

    In the trees beyond the slope, a bird screeched.

    Four times.

    Then all was silent again.

 Chapter 4: Two Of The Nicest Ashigaru Around

    ~~~

    Just a few more steps¡­

    Miho blew out what little was left of his existing breath and sucked in a fraction of what he needed to replace it.

    He blocked out the nagging complaints from his arms and his legs, that they weren¡¯t built for this kind of work and would soon collapse.

    His eyes watered from the effort of keeping his head straight enough to see the end of the path ahead.

    ¡®A few more ste-¡­¡¯

    His right leg buckled, followed by the left, leaving his body - plus the unconscious samurai on his back - with no choice but to drop like decapitated meerkats into a large pothole.

    Luckily, it hadn¡¯t been raining so the pothole was dry, but that was scant consolation for Miho.

    ¡®Wah, it¡¯s like carrying a bronze statue¡­¡¯ he muttered, crawling out from under the dormant weight and looking back at how far they¡¯d come.

    Kuso.

    About fifty metres, give or take ten metres. Take, more likely.

    He could still make out the top of the slope where the demon woman had descended from, and the beginning of the path that had led him into this huge, open mess in the first place.

    Kuso, kuso, kuso. Kuso.

    Why didn¡¯t I just take the main road, he wondered, even though he knew wondering wouldn¡¯t change a thing. Follow those salt merchants back up to Uedara, listen in on tales about the salt trade, borrow leftover salt from their sacks to make salt angels in the-

    Throwing a random stone in frustration, he watched with horror as it hit a larger rock and bounced back, striking the samurai on the side of his head. He moaned in response, forcing Miho into panic mode: he leapt back to his feet and shouted vaguely to the left, telling the demon to stop flinging rocks at his friend.

    ¡®Demon¡­¡¯ slurred Akira, managing to twist his head round and face the direction from which the stone had struck him.

    ¡®It¡¯s okay, meijin, she¡¯s gone.¡¯

    ¡®The road¡­¡¯ Akira rotated further, squinting at the path behind them. ¡®That slope¡­¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, we¡¯re making progress.¡¯

    ¡®¡­where?¡¯

    ¡®Actually, meijin, you¡¯re heavier than you look. I think it¡¯s the d¨­buku you¡¯re wearing, looks quite weighty, maybe the katana too. But¡­never mind, now that you¡¯re awake, you can help me shift the weight a bit.¡¯

    Miho paused, wondering if he should add another meijin¡­then decided two was probably enough; any more than that and he¡¯d have to use it every time he spoke, and no meijin would appreciate that degree of pedantry. At least, he knew he wouldn¡¯t. If he ever got to meijin level.

    ¡®The demon, where is it?¡¯ asked Akira again, trying and failing to grab the collar of Miho¡¯s yukata.

    ¡®Don¡¯t worry, she¡¯s gone, really. Turned into that weird purple mist and blew back over the slope. Blew? Is that the right word? I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m still not sure it really happened, to tell the truth. The whole thing feels like a bizarre dream.¡¯

    The samurai ran shaky eyes over Miho¡¯s quite tall but also quite slim physique. ¡®You defeated her?¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­not really. Like I said, she just blew away. Also said we were dead men for not letting her eat us. Which reminds me¡­¡¯ He gestured at the path ahead, the tree line slowly narrowing on both sides. ¡®You want me to lift you again, or are you okay by yourself?¡¯

    ¡®Which direction¡­is that?¡¯ asked Akira, rubbing his head.

    ¡®Generally, it goes all the way to Suwa, so I was told¡­but there¡¯s a ryokan a few kilometres ahead. That¡¯s where I was planning on taking you.¡¯

    ¡®Not to Shingen¡­¡¯

    ¡®The daimy¨­?¡¯

    Akira groaned, changing from rubbing to digging knuckles into his scalp.

    ¡®Is that your master? Shingen?¡¯

    ¡®Ryokan¡­¡¯

    Miho frowned, triple-checking the man¡¯s d¨­buku design to make sure he was really a samurai. Crooked tree motif, red sun, yup, seemed legitimate enough, as did the katana he¡¯d picked out of the path dirt and tucked in the man¡¯s belt, but his answer was still odd. Unless Shingen had been killed and he hadn¡¯t heard about it yet?

    Dusting off his d¨­buku, Akira put both palms flat on the ground and pushed himself up. The effort was far too swift for his current state and as soon as he was vertical, he began to wobble.

    ¡®Hey, watch out,¡¯ said Miho, darting forward and grabbing Akira¡¯s sleeve, just enough for it to rip and the man himself to drop back towards the ground.

    ¡®Kuso¡­I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to-¡­¡¯ Miho held the little chunk of torn sleeve in his hand, basically apologising to it.

    ¡®Too weak,¡¯ whispered Akira, rolling onto his back. ¡®My head¡­throat¡­¡¯

    ¡®Right. I agree. You need food, water.¡¯ Miho checked his pockets, pulling out the only thing he could feel inside and instantly regretting it. ¡®Err¡­apparently, this is a chicken bun. Kumamoto style. Not sure if you wanna eat it, but¡­¡¯

    Akira raised a hand and grabbed it, shoving it into his mouth. Clearly unused to Kumamoto style, the samurai lasted about five seconds before it came shooting back out, some of the soggier, greyer bits landing on Miho¡¯s foot.

    ¡®I had a similar reaction,¡¯ the young villager replied, wiping his contaminated zori on a nearby rock.

    Sensing food, a trail of ants marched out of the grass to the side of the path, crawling over the chicken remains. To the ant palate it must¡¯ve tasted okay as they stayed there a while.

    ¡®Ryokan¡­¡¯ mumbled Akira, his eyes starting to close.

    ¡®Yes, with both of us walking, shouldn¡¯t take too long.¡¯

    ¡®Not Shingen¡­¡¯

    ¡®You are going to stand up, aren¡¯t you?¡¯

    Akira gave the softest possible ¡®yes¡¯ and then returned koala-like to an unconscious state. Which meant he probably wasn¡¯t going to stand up.

    That was Miho¡¯s deduction anyway.

    And it was a fair one.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    Especially now he could see drool sneaking out the edge of the samurai¡¯s mouth.

    ¡®Six kilometres,¡¯ he said to himself as he bent down and got a firm grip on the ashigaru¡¯s armpits. ¡®Carrying someone whose name I don¡¯t even know.¡¯

    Storing up as much breath as he could hold in one go, he lifted the samurai and manoeuvred him into a diagonal slant against his shoulders. Then, letting out the held breath, and probably sucking the same particles right back in, he shifted round the side and placed the man¡¯s arms around his neck.

    After a few tentative steps, he made the mistake of looking ahead, tripped on a dirt-covered rock and almost fell over again. Somehow, his calves took the strain, he managed to steady himself and, after a few dozen awkward shuffles, his feet settled into some kind of rhythm.

    Walk a few steps. Stop. Walk a few steps. Stop.

    It was just about tolerable.

    Even with the samurai drooling on his shoulder¡­and swinging his arm up every half minute or so, clipping his ear.

    Ah, just think of the ryokan, Miho told himself. The scenic, serene, mountain-side ryokan where your arms won¡¯t hurt anymore and the chicken might actually look like chicken.

    Ah, sweet, tender chicken¡­

    ~~~

    ¡®Poison!¡¯

    A dish with a mutilated onigiri attached sailed through the air, missing the staff girl¡¯s head by only a millimetre, and crashed into the ryokan wall. As said wall wasn¡¯t made of sponge, the dish broke instantly and dropped in scattered pieces onto the tatami floor, while most of the onigiri defied physics and clung on to the Sugi wood.

    ¡®Incompetent girl, you were supposed to catch it,¡¯ roared a stocky ashigaru on the other side of the lobby, his eyebrows not only meeting in the middle but setting up a small civilisation there.

    ¡®Reflexes of a dead bear,¡¯ said the other ashigaru beside him on the futon sofa, scratching a blue piece of cloth tied loosely round his wrist.

    The girl in question ¨C tall, scruffily dressed in ryokan-issue tan yukata, no more than nineteen ¨C kept her back to them and watched the remains of the onigiri she¡¯d just presented slide slowly down the lobby wall.

    ¡®Hey, servant wretch, we¡¯re talking to you,¡¯ said the eyebrow ashigaru, picking up his friend¡¯s dish.

    ¡®Answer him,¡¯ ordered his friend, swiftly taking it back.

    ¡®Why didn¡¯t you catch the dish?¡¯

    ¡®Or even try to catch it.¡¯

    ¡®Exactly, she didn¡¯t even raise her hand.¡¯

    ¡®Pathetic child.¡¯

    ¡®Reflexes of a dead cow.¡¯

    ¡®I am not your servant,¡¯ the girl replied, her tone skating close to the edge of the volcano but not diving in.

    ¡®The hell you¡¯re not!¡¯ shouted the eyebrow ashigaru, kicking the table leg in front of him, advancing into the cleared space. ¡®Now stop talking back like a little shit and pick up the mess.¡¯

    The girl looked at the entrance to the kitchen, only a few steps away. Then back at the pieces of dish and bits of onigiri decorating the floor right by her feet. Then into the metaphorical lava. ¡®It is not my responsibility to clean up after drunks.¡¯

    The eyebrow ashigaru¡¯s face almost exploded, his eyes scrambling for something new to throw, while his friend made a poor attempt at a whistle.

    ¡®You dare call us drunks?¡¯

    ¡®Well, you¡¯re clearly not sober.¡¯

    ¡®Pick up the mess. Now. This instant.¡¯

    To add urgency to the command, the eyebrow ashigaru drew his katana and advanced, the tip of his blade reaching out and down towards her knees.

    ¡®This instant,¡¯ he repeated, the sudden movements he¡¯d just performed making his breath ragged.

    ¡®No stabbing,¡¯ said his friend, moving not an inch from the futon.

    ¡®Go. Pick it up. All of it.¡¯

    Keeping the blade in peripheral view, the girl put both hands behind her back and dug nails into her left palm.

    Apologise, pick up the onigiri. Apologise, pick up the onigiri. Apologise, hit him with the onigiri. Stab his foot with a broken shard of dish. Hide in the kitchen. Stab anyone who follows.

    She looked left, at the painting of Mount Kaikoma.

    No, not tranquil enough.

    Shifting right, she focused on the Eastern Shore of Lake Suwa, hanging on the opposite side of the ryokan lobby.

    Okay. Better.

    ¡®What in Hachiman¡¯s name is wrong with you?¡¯ said the eyebrow ashigaru, making a swiping motion with his katana. ¡®Pick up the fucking mess.¡¯

    The girl closed her eyes, taking a meditation breath.

    ¡®Don¡¯t try to sleep. Obey. Insolent little wretch.¡¯

    ¡®What¡¯s going on here?¡¯ shouted a voice from the direction of the entrance.

    All three actors in the one-stage drama turned round and glared at the fresh entrant, a middle-aged woman standing by the open door panel, body covered in the same tan yukata as the girl. In her right hand hung a strangled chicken, and on her face, specks of blood, either from the chicken itself or its friends and familiars.

    ¡®Your servant girl is broken,¡¯ said the eyebrow ashigaru, lowering his blade to the floor.

    ¡®Refuses to do her job,¡¯ added his friend, scratching the blue cloth on his wrist again.

    ¡®Is that true, Aya?¡¯

    The girl, apparently called Aya, looked as pointedly as she could at the eyebrow ashigaru¡¯s katana short of actually walking over and prodding it with her face. ¡®This man¡­threw a dish at me.¡¯

    ¡®Nonsense! I was passing it back to her. The onigiri did not look well-made.¡¯

    ¡®He¡¯s lying, Himiko.¡¯

    The woman, Himiko, raised her hand, and the dead chicken along with it. ¡®Enough. I will not have this kind of ruckus taking place in the lobby of my ryokan. Now, apologise to the two guests, and clean up the mess.¡¯

    ¡®But¡­¡¯

    ¡®That is the last time I¡¯ll say it. Understand?¡¯

    Aya glanced down at the katana still not too far from her kneecaps, grumbled something under her breath then said out loud that she¡¯d be right back with a cloth and tray.

    ¡®And a well-made onigiri,¡¯ shouted the eyebrow ashigaru.

    ¡®Another decanter of sh¨­ch¨±, too,¡¯ added his friend, raising the old one and not blinking in the slightest when drops of alcohol splashed out over the rim.

    ¡®High quality sh¨­ch¨±.¡¯

    ¡®The best you have in stock.¡¯

    ¡®Of course,¡¯ replied Aya, already building up the first molecules of spit she was going to add to both items.

    ¡®Be quick about it too. I¡¯m starving.¡¯

    After Aya had scuttled off to the kitchen, making throat hacking sounds as she went, Himiko approached the two guests, chicken corpse still in hand, and told the eyebrow ashigaru to put his katana away.

    ¡®No one tells a samurai what to do with his weapon.¡¯

    ¡®Obviously not. Though it will be hard for you to drink the complementary bottle of sh¨­ch¨± if it¡¯s still in your hand.¡¯

    ¡®Complementary?¡¯ asked the Eyebrow ashigaru, sheathing his katana.

    ¡®Don¡¯t think you can so easily buy our good will, ryokan lady,¡¯ said the blue cloth ashigaru, gesturing at his friend to sit back down.

    ¡®All I want is a peaceful environment here.¡¯

    ¡®If that is the case, then free sh¨­ch¨± is not going to be sufficient.¡¯

    Himiko looked through the gaps in the shutters behind the seated ashigaru, out onto the snow-flecked courtyard, her hand tightening its grip on the neck of the chicken. ¡®What would you suggest?¡¯

    ¡®Two things come to mind.¡¯

    ¡®Go on.¡¯

    ¡®First, a new room. The place we currently have is small and has a poor view.¡¯

    ¡®I can arrange that.¡¯

    ¡®Not just any room,¡¯ said the eyebrow ashigaru, moving towards the shutters and pulling the nearest one open. ¡®That cabin up there.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry, but that is already taken.¡¯

    ¡®Then make it untaken.¡¯

    ¡®I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be able do that.¡¯

    ¡®You don¡¯t think you¡¯ll be able to? Does that not imply that you could, if you so desired?¡¯

    A shadow filled the lobby, cloaking Himiko¡¯s instinctive reaction, and prompting the eyebrow ashigaru to look at the open shutter in confusion. When he realised the afternoon sun blockage was coming from the entrance, from a person, the katana promptly came back out.

    ¡®Who are you?¡¯ he asked, aiming the tip of his blade at the man in the oddly green yukata obstructing the entrance.

    ¡®The co-owner of this establishment.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, finally, the real boss. Look, this woman here tells us we can¡¯t have that cabin up there, the one on the slope. But I have a suspicion that¡¯s not entirely true. What do you say?¡¯

    ¡®Of course, you may have the room,¡¯ the man in the green yukata replied, monotone, not shifting an inch from the doorway.

    ¡®They may?¡¯ asked Himiko, switching the dead chicken to her left hand and running a fingernail over the green necklace peeking out at the top of her robes.

    ¡®It will be ready by six this evening.¡¯

    The eyebrow ashigaru raised the guard of his katana, stroking his chin with it. ¡®Hmm, a bit long to wait¡­though it might be bearable with the free sh¨­ch¨± you¡¯ve promised us.¡¯

    ¡®We apologise for the inconvenience,¡¯ said the man in the green yukata, turning to leave.

    ¡®Second condition,¡¯ said the ashigaru with the blue cloth, tapping his empty cup against the edge of the table.

    ¡®What?¡¯

    ¡®The girl who broke the dish. I wish her to spend the night with me. In the cabin.¡¯

    Himiko opened her mouth to answer, but was beaten to it by her colleague, his back still turned to the lobby. ¡®She will be sent to you an hour after your evening meal.¡¯

    ¡®Good, good.¡¯

    ¡®Is that all?¡¯

    The ashigaru with the blue cloth turned his eyes to the kitchen entrance. ¡®We are¡­satisfied.¡¯

    ¡®For the time being,¡¯ added the eyebrow man, winking at Himiko. ¡®Though it might be a bit more expedient if you were the face of the-¡­

    The remaining words died on his lips as he realised the man in the green yukata had already left and taken the clouds with him.

    ¡®If you need anything else, you can find me outside,¡¯ said Himiko, putting the chicken back in her strangling hand.

    ¡®Maybe after a few more glasses of sh¨­ch¨±,¡¯ mumbled the eyebrow man, returning his katana to his obi.

    A few moments later, when it was just the two ashigaru slumped on separate futon sofas, lost in their own fantasies of the coming night, Aya re-appeared with a tray of fresh onigiri [made by a very irritated Chef Amo] and a new decanter of spit-enhanced sh¨­ch¨±. As she placed it carefully down on the table, she noticed the ashigaru with the blue cloth on his wrist staring at her, and the fatter man smirking, but for some strange reason they didn¡¯t bark any orders.

    Or point their katanas at her kneecaps.

    Or try to grope her ass again.

    Odd, she thought, faking a smile and moving over to the mess on the floor. Whatever Himiko said to pacify them, it had definitely worked.

 Chapter 5: Jewel Of Kai Ryokan

    ~~~

    A small hawfinch sat on a branch of an ancient tree, watching with bored curiosity as the human hand on the ground below started to spasm.

    Then the arm.

    Then the neck.

    Then, finally, what was left of the torso.

    When the eyes shot open, draining out a trapped deposit of blood, the hawfinch decided enough was enough and flew upwards into the canopy, swearing never again to hang out at a human worship point.

    On the blood-and-leaves covered ground it left behind, the mutilated corpse of Gen continued to spasm; the hands tried to plant themselves on the dirt to lift up the torso, but it was delicate work, and they inevitably buckled and brought the whole body down again.

    With purple vapours evaporating off the scalp, the corpse tried again, and this time managed to secure a firm grip on a nearby rock.

    It moved the left arm forward, steadying itself, then followed with the right. The procedure went smoothly for about four metres, until a crevice appeared in the path and, unable to keep its balance, the ashigaru corpse rolled over on its side.

    ¡®¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­¡¯ emanated from Gen¡¯s mouth, along with a stream of purple mist [inadvertently flushing out a rogue maggot].

    Atta Noe reformed into her regular female shape and slammed her fists on the lid of the box, which was still loose on the ground, next to one of the other ashigaru corpses.

    ¡®Where are those two fools?¡¯ she said, practically spitting the words out.

    The other corpses didn¡¯t answer.

    Nor did the trees.

    Nor the ant inspection team that had just arrived on the scene, sent to investigate the disappearance of group ZX887.

    She moved on from the lid and struck the box instead, feeling no pain at all despite using her knuckles.

    Late by four hours, she fumed internally. What level of ineptitude is this? That cursed ashigaru and the idiot boy will be miles away by now. Out of Kai Province even.

    She glanced down at the corpse of Yasu, his chest sliced in two down the middle, and pulled at the sleeve of her white yukata.

    Stupid ashigaru. Why had he not died more prosaically? Why had he forced her to do that amount of damage to him?

    Now she was stuck there, at one of those ludicrous human worship points, relying on the competence of two drunk ashigaru, who when they did eventually turn up would probably try to grope her.

    If that neurotic wreck Atta ka Saori had taught me better, she thought, thinking back to her earlier years, then I¡¯d be able to transport my own box.

    Or expand my range a few metres at least.

    That would have been enough to grab those two little parasites¡­get them up here and slowly rip tiny, little strips from their faces¡­force them to listen to lines of Shingen¡¯s juvenile poetry while I do it¡­

    Looking down again, she noticed the line of ants scurrying away from her feet, seeking sanctuary in one of those fake skulls.

    ¡®And where do you think you¡¯re going, little pests?¡¯

    Her foot trickled out into purple smoke and formed a trail around them, hovering for a few seconds as the ants stopped, confused¡­then closed in with brutal speed, crushing them.

    ¡®That¡¯s better.¡¯

    ~~~

    The path leading up to Jewel Of Kai Ryokan was about as pleasant as any path in Japan could be.

    A gentle stream running parallel, with no lurking bears. Endless mountains to the left that may have had bandits camped somewhere within during the summer months, but at the tail end of winter, no chance. And, in a clearing up ahead, a young woman planted behind a giant sheet of rice paper, painting a young man with his kosode off, hand propped up against a slanted cypress tree.

    The last thing was especially pleasant because it reassured Miho, as he hobbled past with Akira slumped on one shoulder, that there were actual guests at the ryokan, and that it wasn¡¯t just a spider-trap set up to lure in salt merchants and rob them while they slept.

    ¡®Beautiful afternoon,¡¯ he said, sticking his hand up to wave and instantly having it swatted away by the delirious samurai.

    The painter didn¡¯t notice, focusing instead on her brush strokes, while the man moved a step from his position and shouted, ¡®don¡¯t let him throw up in the stream.¡¯

    ¡®He¡¯s injured,¡¯ Miho replied, taking a long breath before adding, ¡®not drunk.¡¯

    ¡®Oh. Don¡¯t let him bleed on the tatami then.¡¯

    ¡®Position,¡¯ shouted the woman, pointing the man back to the tree.

    ¡®Don¡¯t let him bleed on the bridge either.¡¯

    Nodding politely, Miho continued on, whispering to Akira that the guy was probably joking, but the samurai didn¡¯t respond.

    Not even a muffled groan or random arm swipe.

    ¡®Almost there now¡­thank gods¡­¡¯

    Crossing the first of two bridges, Miho briefly considered stopping and propping up his human baggage on the wooden railings, but he could see the entrance of the ryokan now, and the lodging rooms beside it, and another, grander one on the slope to the left that was presumably for VIPs, so he decided to push through the dull pain in his legs and arms until he could collapse on the bench just outside the front door.

    And that¡¯s what he did.

    Over the bridge, past another guest sitting on an unnaturally positioned rock by the stream, across the second bridge [with one section of the railing snapped off], almost tripping over some replica chicken statues in the ryokan courtyard, and finally making it safely to the bench.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡®Kusoooo¡­¡¯ he said, dumping both himself and the unconscious ashigaru down on top of it. ¡®We made it.¡¯

    ¡®Graarrrg¡­¡¯ slurred Akira, sliding diagonally down.

    Calling the owner and getting a room was clearly the next step, but Miho was too tired to stand up again, and they¡¯d probably seen him through the lobby window anyway.

    He closed his eyes, returning his breathing to a more regular rate, and let the sun warm his eyelids.

    The samurai next to him made a few of his routine groaning sounds, but mostly stayed as committed to sleep as he had for the whole trip.

    If Miho were a cynical type, he would¡¯ve suspected the man of tricking him, of pretending to be unconscious just so he could get a free lift to the ryokan, but that kind of thinking was for bandits and high-level aristocrats, not him.

    Besides, the trip didn¡¯t seem that bad now that he was resting on the bench. The sun had been present most of the way, there was no chilly wind coming in from the north, no bandits pretending to be lost tourists with a fake map, asking where the nearest post office was.

    Apparently sensing Miho¡¯s new found comfort, the clouds above shifted, blocking out the already dipping sun.

    ¡®Stop dragging it,¡¯ shouted a rough voice nearby.

    Miho opened one eye and looked across the courtyard, then at the cabins on the right. Two fairly large men were following a young girl in a brown yukata out of the nearest one, hitting her with a large piece of bamboo every time she dropped the large trunk she was attempting to carry.

    ¡®If there¡¯s any marks on it, I¡¯ll cut a piece of you off,¡¯ shouted the fatter of the two men, not even looking at the trunk.

    ¡®Tomorrow,¡¯ added his friend, smirking in a way that made Miho shift in his seat to subdue the sudden shivering sensation in his limbs.

    It got worse when he noticed the katanas tucked in their belts.

    ¡®Samurai¡­¡¯ he whispered to Akira, getting an ¡®urrrrr¡¯ in return.

    The girl continued along with the trunk, not responding to any of the provocations, though her face did look quite stern. Miho had seen the same expression on River Bitch once, when a local warlord¡¯s son had come to the village for the day and forced her to carry him on her back.

    She must work here, he thought, examining her yukata again.

    It wasn¡¯t the most impressive deduction ever, as the only possible alternative was that she was the two samurais¡¯ sex slave, but he was still quite proud of himself.

    ¡®You dropped it again,¡¯ yelled the fat ashigaru, finally losing patience and kicking the girl in the ass.

    Somehow, she kept her balance enough not to fall over, but that only incensed the fat ashigaru further, and he sent her stumbling forward with a fierce blow to the back of her head.

    ¡®Hey¡­¡¯ shouted Miho and the other ashigaru at the same time.

    Hearing the echo, both ashigaru instinctively looked the wrong way, up towards the mountains, then realised their mistake and switched the spotlight to Miho.

    At some point, he¡¯d stood up and moved off the bench and, figuring that he should probably offer a follow up, said in a lower, more playful voice, ¡®hitting people weaker than yourself will only damage you too.¡¯

    ¡®Who are you talking to, boy?¡¯ demanded the fat ashigaru.

    ¡®Are you mad?¡¯ asked the other, taller one.

    Miho considered both questions, while also taking the chance to see if the girl was okay. As far as he could tell, she was unhurt, though she was still on the ground. And looking at him with a very weird, squinting expression.

    ¡®Don¡¯t enter into silence around me, boy,¡¯ shouted the fat ashigaru, advancing with his katana halfway out.

    Miho stood his ground, remembering his father¡¯s stories about the noble samurai and their code of honour, but the fat ashigaru didn¡¯t slow down and his face looked like a demon who¡¯d just had his mortgage doubled, and his katana was already pulled back, ready to thrust forward and¡­

    ¡®Morita¡­¡¯

    Miho turned, puzzled for a moment when he saw the samurai he¡¯d dragged there sitting up on the bench, then quickly adjusted.

    ¡®K¨­toku¡­¡¯ blurted the fat ashigaru, almost dropping his katana on the spot. ¡®Is that you?¡¯

    ¡®No, it¡¯s my body double,¡¯ Akira groaned, rubbing the back of his head.

    ¡®What the king of hell are you doing here?¡¯ asked the slimmer ashigaru, taking his hand off the girl¡¯s shoulder and walking up next to his stuttering comrade.

    ¡®Vacation.¡¯

    ¡®The box¡­you were supposed to be¡­¡¯

    ¡®Demon.¡¯

    ¡®¡­carrying it to-¡­what?¡¯

    ¡®Demon in the box. Everyone dead.¡¯ Akira finished with his head and pulled himself up into a more formal sitting position. ¡®What are you two doing here?¡¯

    The two ashigaru exchanged glances, telepathically asking for a semi-believable cover story. Luckily, they didn¡¯t have to articulate their final choice - ¡®we¡¯re reviewing ryokans for Shingen¡¯s new census¡¯ ¨C as Himiko pushed open the entrance door with a kendo stick in her hand and demanded to know what all the ruckus was about.

    ¡®Talking to an old friend,¡¯ said the fat ashigaru, frowning at the stick.

    ¡®Old?¡¯ asked Akira, coughing.

    Himiko nodded and looked at Aya, who was back on her feet now and moving over to the trunk. ¡®What are you doing, silly girl? That trunk¡¯s far too heavy for you.¡¯

    ¡®She can manage,¡¯ said the slimmer ashigaru.

    ¡®Obviously, she can¡¯t. Anyway, that¡¯s irrelevant, Chef Amo needs her in the kitchen. You¡¯ll have to carry it yourself.¡¯ Himiko shifted the kendo stick to her other hand and turned to Miho, who was just about to collapse on the bench again. ¡®And you two? What do you think you¡¯re doing on that bench?¡¯

    ¡®I was just taking a rest,¡¯ said Miho.

    ¡®Only paid guests can sit there. And it¡¯s a two night minimum stay. In the room, not on the bench¡¯

    ¡®Okay. We will take one room.¡¯

    ¡®Two,¡¯ said Akira, eyelids barely able to stay up.

    ¡®Sorry, one is all we¡¯ve got. Two futons, very cosy.¡¯ Himiko tapped the kendo stick against the wooden door panel. ¡®Come inside and I¡¯ll get you the key.¡¯

    Miho bowed slightly, keeping his eyes on the kendo stick, and looked at Akira. As seemed to be his habit, he was unconscious again.

    ¡®Fine, he can stay there. Temporarily. Aya, what are you waiting for? Get in the kitchen.¡¯

    Aya did the curtest of nods and let go of the trunk handle. As she walked past the other two ashigaru, she slowly opened the clenched fist of her other hand, releasing bits of dirt and tiny jagged flint onto the ground.

    The fat ashigaru muttered something then bent down and picked up his katana. His slim comrade folded his arms, watching both Miho and Aya disappear inside the ryokan, before turning his attention back to Akira.

    ¡®What are we going to do?¡¯ asked the fat ashigaru.

    As he spoke, more clouds appeared, covering completely what remained of the afternoon sun.

    ¡®Not here,¡¯ replied the slim ashigaru, gesturing with his elbow towards the trunk.

    ~~~

    A short while later, the fat ashigaru dumped the trunk by the futon and stood by the balcony window panel of Room 28, the ryokan¡¯s deluxe cabin.

    It hadn¡¯t taken too long to carry the luggage up, but long enough for the sun to go down and the odd purple light of the witching hour to replace it.

    ¡®Looks like he¡¯s in bad shape,¡¯ said the fat ashigaru, peering at Akira through the panel gaps.

    ¡®Not bad enough,¡¯ replied the slim ashigaru, checking the inside of the tea pot then moving into the onsen room.

    ¡®There¡¯s two of us, one of him.¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t be obtuse. We¡¯ll wait until he¡¯s asleep, then sneak in. The boy will have to be dealt with too.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, that little shit¡­¡¯ shouted the fat ashigaru, trying to wipe away a small green light from the door panel, ¡®¡­saying hey like that. To a samurai.¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t get too excited. We¡¯re up at sunrise tomorrow, remember? In and out, no frills. I¡¯ll do the same with the girl here. Then we go grab that fucking box and hope Shingen¡¯s in a good mood when we get back.¡¯

    He paused, dipping his hand in the onsen water and pulling it right back out again.

    ¡®Kuso,¡¯ he cried, wagging his hand in the air. ¡®It¡¯s like a fucking volcano. What the fuck¡¯s she playing at?¡¯

    There was a whistling sound from the main room, but no words succeeding it.

    ¡®Ahh, doesn¡¯t matter. Might actually be fun. I can dip the girl in, scold her for carrying our trunk poorly.¡¯

    The thin ashigaru moved back to the doorway to the main room, sucking the minor burn on his finger.

    ¡®You¡¯ll have to go for a walk when she comes. Maybe go and chase that owner, see if she¡¯ll let you play with her. It¡¯s worth a try. Hey, when did it get so dark in here? Did you close all the panels?¡¯

    The fat ashigaru remained still, his shape a silhouette against the balcony screens now that it was so dark.

    ¡®Light up the okiandon, I can barely see a thing.¡¯

    There was another whistling sound, then a dark green light where the fat ashigaru¡¯s face was.

    ¡®Gods of Lake Hell, what¡¯s wrong with¡­¡¯

    Two more green lights appeared, roughly where his comrade¡¯s eyes were.

    ¡®¡­your face?¡¯

    Before the slim ashigaru could add anything else, the shape of his comrade dropped like it was merely the yukata itself and landed crumpled on the tatami. In its place, another shape stood, eyes and mouth glowing dark green.

    ¡®Morita?¡¯ the slim ashigaru asked, backing into the wall.

    ¡®No,¡¯ the shape replied, green light extending forward as it spoke, absorbing the room and its shadows.

 Chapter 6: Bag Full Of Pebbles

    ~~~

    There are times when nature¡¯s tiny creatures act smart and pragmatic, like survivalists, and then other times when they swerve outright suicidal, as was the case when a single mosquito [big for its age] decided to sneak through the gap between Miho and the sliding balcony panel, and make its way over to the exposed neck of the unconscious ashigaru.

    Fortunately for the little insect, Akira was too far out of it to notice the faint buzzing noise, and Miho didn¡¯t intervene because he was out on the balcony, mesmerised by the fairy tale landscape around the ryokan.

    Snowy mountains, a gentle river, cabins tucked away discreetly on the slopes and this little crack in the middle.

    Jewel of Kai.

    Was this the paradise Yuki had talked about?

    He closed his eyes, sharpening the memory.

    The two of them laying on the local hill, overlooking his village¡¯s main landmark; a rock formation shaped like a line of upturned rice bowls. Him wrapped in two blankets, her wearing the thinnest possible kosode.

    Lacks snow.

    That¡¯s what she¡¯d said, placing her cold hand on his neck and forcing him to suppress a reflex spasm.

    And then she¡¯d described her home; a place of endless white, of cabins dotted arbitrarily around mountaintops, of rivers that flowed off the edges of staggering cliffs and seemed to hang there indefinitely.

    Well Yuki, he thought, looking at the stream below, one and a half out of three isn¡¯t bad. Or one and three quarters depending on how she judged the snow level. Most of it was higher up, spread over the slopes of the mountains leading up to Nagano, not exactly endless, but not too far from-

    He stopped, spotting something odd on the slope to the left. Some kind of green light was coming out from the main balcony of the cabin.

    Wasn¡¯t that the one those two samurai were going to? Or ashigaru as the ryokan owner called them.

    He thought back, shivering slightly when he recalled the fat samurai advancing on him with his katana drawn. All because he''d said hey about the guy punching a staff girl on the back of the head.

    Not typical samurai behaviour. Not the type his father described anyway. More like that of a couple of drunk bandits, if he were being honest. And, weirdly, they seemed to know the samurai he was with. Greeted each other like friends. K¨­toku¡­that¡¯s what they¡¯d called him.

    Was he a thug too?

    And what the hell was that green glow?

    Miho leaned forward over the wooden railings and tried to pick out some details, but it wasn¡¯t easy; it was a green light, like an outline around the frame of the balcony door panels.

    Behind him, there was a groaning noise, followed quickly by a rough kuso.

    Miho turned to look and saw the samurai ¨C K¨­toku ¨C swatting at something in the air like a blind man.

    A mosquito probably.

    Must¡¯ve let one in when he opened the door panels to the balcony. Or it had been camped out in the room all day, waiting for new blood.

    Putting his hand on the edge of the panel, Miho turned back to the cabin on the slope and muttered, ¡®okay then.¡¯ The green glow had gone, and everything was dark, as if no one was even staying there.

    Maybe they were in a different cabin, he thought, going back inside the room and closing the screen behind him.

    There was only one okiandon, but it was enough to light up the four walls, the two futons, the wisteria bonsai tree on the desk and the obligatory painting of mountain landscape, in this case, a pink-filtered Mt Aino. A smaller lamp with a handle lay by the balcony panel, presumably for impromptu, and possibly erotic, midnight trips into the solitude of the nearby slopes.

    Not much chance of that, thought Miho, looking over at the occupied futon.

    The samurai was still swiping at the mosquito, in a very haphazard manner, the sleeve of his kosode constantly getting in the way. It was quite hard to watch, so Miho walked over and tried to help him out; standing very still over his body and scanning each molecule of air for movement.

    ¡®Got you,¡¯ he said, a little bit too loud, and clapped his hands on what he hoped was the blood-sucking insect.

    Hope died fast as he opened up and saw that his palms were clear. Except for the fruit knife scar his mum had given him.

    To celebrate its escape, the mosquito buzzed near his ear, three separate times, before flying off to hide somewhere else in the room.

    ¡®Kuso¡­¡¯ he spat, sitting down on the futon and almost jumping backwards through the wall when he saw the samurai sitting up, staring right at him with death herb eyes.

    ¡®Who are you?¡¯ he burst out, so sharp it was almost in one single syllable.

    ¡®I carried you here¡­meijin,¡¯ said Miho, holding up his hands flat in the peace pose. ¡®To this ryokan.¡¯

    ¡®The demon woman¡­purple smoke¡­¡¯

    ¡®She¡¯s gone. Disappeared. Ages ago. I told you that when you woke up before. Remember?¡¯

    Akira rubbed the back of his head, his eyeballs returning to normal size¡­and then narrowing further as he sized up Miho. ¡®You carried me here?¡¯

    ¡®Yes, meijin. Seven kilometres, with several stops.¡¯

    ¡®Name?¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­Miho.¡¯

    Akira instinctively looked from Miho¡¯s face down to his chest, then rubbed his eyes.

    ¡®It¡¯s true, meijin. My father wanted to call me Mito. But there was a mistake at the birth signing.¡¯

    ¡®Gods in a beach hut¡­¡¯

    ¡®After that, he said it was destiny. And changing it would bring a curse on our family.¡¯

    ¡®Miho. Mi-ho.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m used to it now.¡¯

    ¡®Your father must be laughing his ass off¡­¡¯Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    ¡®Maybe. I don¡¯t know. He¡¯s dead.¡¯

    Akira straightened up, losing the smile fast and coughing. ¡®Lucky man. Came pretty close to it myself.¡¯

    ¡®The ryokan owner said she would bring some herbal tonic up soon. That should help you recover.¡¯

    Akira grunted in acknowledgment, and took in the room around them. The fresh kosode around his body didn¡¯t appear to surprise him much, probably as he was too busy reaching for his katana. Miho had laid it out carefully beside his futon, making sure not to damage it in any way.

    ¡®Not sure if it was a dream or not,¡¯ he said, running his finger along the flat side of the blade, ¡®but I recall seeing an acquaintance of mine outside. Another ashigaru¡­¡¯

    ¡®You mean the samurai?¡¯

    Akira laughed, trying to repeat the word samurai and quickly turning it into a hacking cough.

    ¡®Sorry, meijin, he had a katana, I thought-¡­¡¯

    ¡®Ashigaru. Default name. And no more meijin shit¡­it¡¯s annoying.¡¯

    ¡®Sorry¡­err¡­¡¯

    ¡®Akira.¡¯

    Miho¡¯s face performed what could only be called maze within a maze sponsored by maze, hearing the sounds of a first name but refusing to accept that¡¯s what was actually said.

    ¡®You can skip the shock, I tell everyone to use it.¡¯ Akira pulled himself up higher onto the pillow. ¡®What was the ashigaru doing?

    ¡®Well, the fat one¡­¡¯ answered Miho, looking back towards the balcony. ¡®¡­I think he was moving his luggage. And the other one-¡­¡¯

    ¡®There was someone else?¡¯

    ¡®Yes. Him and another samu-¡­ashigaru. Not fat. Actually, they weren¡¯t very friendly¡­the fat one punched a female staff on the head.¡¯

    ¡®The second one¡­¡¯ Akira said, darting forward and grabbing Miho¡¯s yukata sleeve. ¡®Did he have a blue piece of cloth wrapped round his wrist?¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­¡¯

    ¡®Think. Light blue cloth, quite thick.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m not certain, but¡­there was something blue, on his arm¡­maybe cloth.¡¯

    ¡®Kuso. Are they still here now?¡¯

    ¡®I think so.¡¯

    ¡®Where? Which cabin?¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m not sure.¡¯

    Akira let go of the sleeve and pivoted back to his katana, attempting to seize its guard and leap up to his feet in the same movement. It was an ambitious move, and failed quite swiftly as his head started to sway and, before he could get a firm stance with his right leg, his large frame was toppling backwards onto the futon.

    As his head hit the pillow, there was a knock at the door.

    ¡®Donopenaa¡­¡¯ Akira slurred, before falling back into his traditional comatose state.

    Miho took two deep breaths then got up and slid open the main door panel. Part of him expected a blade to run him through, but that was clearly a small and silly part as it turned out to be the ryokan owner standing there, not the fat ashigaru.

    ¡®The herbal tonic for your friend,¡¯ she said, holding it out for him to take.

    ¡®Thanks.¡¯

    ¡®Is he awake yet?¡¯

    Miho took the drink back inside the room, performing the act of checking even though he knew Akira was clean out. ¡®Not yet,¡¯ he replied, coming back to the door.

    Himiko bowed slightly, the green necklace around her neck hanging forward and revealing something else green behind it; a spiral tattoo¡­on the top part of her breast. Miho tried not to look, but the colour pulled him in and he was still squinting at it when she lifted herself back up.

    ¡®We¡¯re not that kind of ryokan,¡¯ she said, pushing the necklace over to cover her tattoo.

    ¡®Sorry?¡¯

    ¡®That applies to the other staff, too.¡¯

    He blinked, his brain catching up to her words. ¡®No, I wasn¡¯t looking at-¡­there was a-¡­on your chest, the tattoo¡­cos your necklace was hanging down, it looked weird and¡­sorry, I didn¡¯t mean-¡­it was an accident, really.¡¯

    It was a stumbling sentence and did nothing to change Himiko¡¯s stone-like expression. She placed one hand on the sliding panel door and the other out flat.

    ¡®Payment time,¡¯ she said, gesturing at her palm.

    ¡®I really am sorry, I wasn¡¯t trying to look at you¡­in that way.¡¯

    ¡®Eighty mon.¡¯

    ¡®Yes. Payment. Of course, I¡¯ll get it now. Just a second.¡¯

    Miho hurried back inside the room, calling himself a fucking fool internally and trying to think of a way to correct the mistake. Ask about the tattoo? Make it clear that he was looking at that, not anything else? But the tattoo was on her breast, so he was looking at that too. Kuso, it was a mess. Maybe if he just went back to the necklace, asked about that instead?

    Untying the coin bag from his belt, he opened it up and¡­pretty much had a heart attack on the spot.

    Flat pebbles.

    The whole bag was-¡­it was empty. No coins at all, just a large pile of flat, fucking pebbles.

    ¡®Is this a joke?¡¯ asked Himiko, her voice-box seemingly perched on his shoulder.

    He spun round, shouted, ¡®wah!¡¯ and spilled the bag of flat pebbles onto the tatami mat.

    ¡®These pebbles are your money?

    ¡®It doesn¡¯t make sense, it was full of coins¡­¡¯

    ¡®Hmm.¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s true, you have to believe me. I used some in Nirasaki, buying food¡­the chicken bun¡­¡¯

    ¡®Stop. Speaking.¡¯

    Miho tightened his mouth, nodding.

    ¡®Good. Now, you¡¯re either a con man or a fool, and I don¡¯t really care which it is cos the punishment is exactly the same.¡¯

    ¡®Punishment?¡¯

    Himiko looked right, at the sprawled figure of Akira on the futon, then back at Miho, her arms folded. ¡®Your friend is useless. Which means you¡¯ll have to work off the debt on your own.¡¯

    ¡®Work it off?¡¯

    ¡®Menial work around here. Cleaning the rooms, scrubbing the floor. Helping Chef Amo in the kitchen.¡¯

    ¡®Okay¡­that doesn¡¯t sound so bad.¡¯

    ¡®By my calculation, assuming you¡¯re staying in this room, the total debt will be settled in two and half months.¡¯

    ¡®That long?¡¯

    ¡®If you sleep outside in the courtyard, you can be clear in a week.¡¯

    Miho turned to the balcony, feeling the slight chill seeping through the minute gaps between the window panel and the wall.

    ¡®Your friend too.¡¯

    ¡®Friend?¡¯

    ¡®The ashigaru lump over there.¡¯

    ¡®He can¡¯t sleep outside, he¡¯s injured¡­¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s up to you. Either way you¡¯ll give me at least a week.¡¯

    Turning back, Miho stared at Akira unconscious on the futon, knowing he didn¡¯t really have a choice, and the thinking time he was acting out was just a gradual, seeping depression at having had all his coins stolen. Somehow. Without him knowing anything about it.

    ¡®Okay, I accept,¡¯ he said, bowing to Himiko.

    ¡®It was not an offer,¡¯ she replied, taking a last look at the prone ashigaru before turning and walking out of the room.

    Kuso multiplied by infinity, Miho thought, watching her leave the door panel open. How did I manage to end up in this mess?

    Karma?

    ~~~

    As the moon emerged from behind a stubborn collection of clouds, the light bouncing off its surface sailed again without obstacle through the atmosphere and down onto the forest clearing/massacre site, illuminating the scratch marks on the lid of the demon¡¯s box.

    No human would be able to read it, but it roughly translated as, ¡®FUCK YOU ATTA KA YUKIO.¡¯ The demon, who was in human form down to her waist, consolidated the message by throwing little twigs at the side of the box.

    This kind of stillness, the complete lack of forward momentum¡­it was the worst kind of hell.

    All the pedantic rules of this cursed place¡­

    Stuck with the box.

    Can¡¯t move it with your own force.

    Can¡¯t possess live animals without their bodies breaking.

    Can¡¯t possess dead ones as their tiny, little brains would explode.

    Atta Noe knew them all well, had been told them multiple times, had even been warned against coming to the humans¡¯ side by other Atashhka, but still she had felt compelled to challenge each one of them.

    Six foxes, three birds and several hundred ants later, and she had to admit that the other Atashhka were right.

    About that particular rule.

    Nothing else.

    She picked up a twig and threw it at one of the hinoki poles, falling short by a few inches. These hands, she thought, looking at them with disgust.

    ¡®¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­¡¯

    Phasing them into purple mist, she imagined all the things she would do when she got those two incompetent water carriers back to Shingen¡¯s castle. Making her wait this long, in such a quiet, tedious place. Probably on the orders of that snake Atta Ka Yukio.

    Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll send two of our most reliable men.

    You¡¯ll be back in no time.

    Her hands came back, picking up a twig and snapping it in two. Then dispersed into frenetic purple again.

    Yes, those two reliable dogs¡­their dismembering would be done by her personally, not the specialists. She would make them suffer for the same exact time she¡¯d had to sit there, feeling the same pain she felt now.

    Assuming they were still alive¡­

    The purple vapours snaked up and around her arm, her eyes following their trails.

    There was a chance they¡¯d met some kind of accident on the road, or bumbled their way into a fight with the wrong people. Or simply got jumped by rogue bandits.

    That would be disappointing.

    She smiled, watching two streams of purple spark against each other.

    But then, she still had the other two, the coward ashigaru and the idiot boy. They were the priorities. If she could ever catch up to them.

    ¡®¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­¡¯ she hissed in her own language, the rest of her torso turning to purple mist and drifting rapidly over the hundred metre stretch of canopy, curving into a small cloud when she reached the edge of the steep slope.

    The scene of her failure.

    No, she corrected in her own thoughts. Temporary setback. Not failure. Never that.

    She reformed her human head and looked down at the precise spot where the idiot boy had defied her. A random human, coming along at that exact moment, utterly gormless. And she¡¯d walked down the slope like she was out for an afternoon stroll.

    Yes, bad tactic. She knew that now.

    And she knew how to correct it.

    A fox made a mewling sound somewhere in the trees behind her, probably coming across the other six foxes she¡¯d accidentally exploded earlier.

    Atta Noe ignored it and focused on the path below.

    All she needed was another stranger to appear down there. Preferably in the morning.

    Then she¡¯d be able to fix things.

 Chapter 7: Hells Kitchen

    ~~~

    Endless fields of snow, furtive kisses, less furtive gropes, Yuki performing the weakest ever handstand, her hands completely untroubled by the icy touch of the ground, all of that was wiped out in a flash by a loud knock on the wall next to the door panel.

    Miho rolled off the futon and muttered, ¡®thunder storm,¡¯ before opening his eyes and remembering where he was.

    Gods in a lighthouse, what time was it?

    There was no light coming through the gap in the balcony panel, and there were no melodies coming from birds stupid enough to still be outside during winter.

    Another knock, this one even louder, followed by a sharp voice saying, ¡®new worker guy, get up.¡¯

    Throwing on the brown yukata that Himiko had given him the previous night, he walked with a dazed stagger towards the door panel. On the way, he did a quick check on Akira, saw his chest moving up and down, and thought, good, he¡¯s not dead.

    Though he did look a bit pale.

    Maybe more of that herbal tonic would help?

    He slid open the door panel a couple of inches, and then let out a panicked ¡®wah¡¯ when a hand on the outside yanked it the rest of the way.

    ¡®Took you long enough,¡¯ said Aya, her eyes looking surprisingly alert for whatever horrible time of morning it was.

    ¡®Sorry.¡¯

    ¡®But at least you¡¯re dressed.¡¯

    ¡®What time is it?¡¯ he asked, stifling half a yawn then just letting it rip when his eyes started to water.

    ¡®Time for work, obviously.¡¯

    ¡®Oh.¡¯ He looked back into the room, even though he couldn¡¯t physically see much inside it. ¡®Do I need to bring anything?¡¯

    ¡®Your bag of stones,¡¯ she replied, deadpan.

    Miho opened his mouth to reply, but then turned it into another yawn when he realised there was no realistic comeback. He¡¯d had all his coins robbed, and he still didn¡¯t know how. Or when.

    ¡®Come on, we¡¯re expected in the kitchen. Chef Amo doesn¡¯t like it when people are late.¡¯

    ~~~

    Aya was right, Chef Amo didn¡¯t like it.

    In fact, Chef Amo didn¡¯t appear to like much of anything.

    Within the first hour of breakfast prep, Miho had already received four clips on the ear, two kicks to the back of the calves, and one accusation of having nothing but a dead mouse and a broken training wheel inside his skull.

    Just like being back at home, Miho thought, remembering the abuse his father used to give him when he didn¡¯t do something right.

    Even things that weren¡¯t his fault, like the time his father decided to balance a cup of boiling hot green tea on his own stomach and it, inevitably, toppled over and spilt out over his crotch.

    And now he had the same sensation, as Chef Amo was shouting at him for chopping the celery too small.

    ¡®And don¡¯t tell me that¡¯s how your mother used to do it,¡¯ he yelled, giving Miho a swift kick to the side of his calf, ¡®cos I¡¯ve heard it a thousand times before, half of them from that idiot over there.¡¯

    He stopped yelling to point at Aya, who looked up from the pan of miso soup she was stirring and smiled.

    ¡®Hey, what are you smirking at?¡¯ he barked, switching targets like a true professional. ¡®You¡¯re still stirring the wrong way, after I showed you four fucking times. Gods on the shitter, what is wrong with you kids?¡¯

    Marching over to the pan, he shoved Aya aside and took control of the ladle, stirring the exact same way she¡¯d been doing it, only slower. ¡®Don¡¯t stand there like a yaya tree, go and help the new idiot chop the rest of the vegetables. Quickly, breakfast is starting in twenty minutes.¡¯

    Aya nodded and walked over to Miho, who was standing on his tiptoes, trying to see if anyone was sitting down in the breakfast room yet.

    ¡®Don¡¯t bother,¡¯ she whispered, pulling him back down by the sleeve. ¡®There are only five guests. And only three of them bothered to come down yesterday.¡¯

    ¡®Aren¡¯t we making too much then?¡¯ asked Miho, looking at the mass of ingredients on the counter in front.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    ¡®It carries over to lunch in the winter season. Though he still makes us come back in the kitchen early.¡¯

    ¡®For what?¡¯

    ¡®Performance. The guests need to see us looking busy. That¡¯s what he says anyway.¡¯

    Miho looked at the chopped celery on the counter and yawned, which turned out to be a mistake.

    ¡®Hey, idiot, stop drooling on the food,¡¯ shouted Chef Amo, leaving the miso soup and storming back over.

    ¡®Sorry, I¡¯m just a bit tired.¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t talk back, boy, just stop fucking yawning. Understand?¡¯

    Miho kept his mouth closed.

    Chef muttered something inaudible to the knife rack, then turned and accidentally  knocked a bowl of freshly diced ginger onto the floor. Luckily, Aya was standing nearby, so he grabbed her by the sleeve and clipped her on the side of the head.

    ¡®Idiot girl, I spent an hour doing all that ginger, and you put it there, right on the edge of the counter. Don¡¯t open your mouth, clear it up. Now. And put the ginger into a new bowl.¡¯

    Instead of pleading innocence, Aya bowed slightly and said, ¡®yes, Chef Amo,¡¯ though Miho did notice her left hand forming a very compact fist at the bottom of her apron.

    ¡®And curb the clumsiness from now on,¡¯ Chef yelled at her scalp as she bent down to pick up the ginger. ¡®What are you gawping at, boy? Chop the vegetables.¡¯

    Miho didn¡¯t form a fist, but he did frown.

    ¡®Are you deaf? Chop. Now.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry, Chef, but that wasn¡¯t her fault. You were the one who put the ginger bowl there. And the one who knocked it over.¡¯

    ¡®What are you saying?¡¯

    ¡®My mother always told me, there are too many dishonest people in this world, don¡¯t add to their number.¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯re babbling about your mother, in my kitchen. Gods on a goat, why am I lumbered with such fools? Where¡¯s Sachiko and frog face?¡¯

    Chef Amo seemed to be addressing the ceiling, so Miho didn¡¯t respond. Instead, he moved to help Aya pick up the pieces of shattered bowl. Another mistake. The sight of comradeship among the workers made Chef Amo go even redder, and this time words weren¡¯t enough. Grabbing the nearest thing to him, a decorative sh¨­ch¨± decanter, he growled like an overworked bear and launched it towards Miho¡¯s head.

    Either due to poor aim or a village boy¡¯s luck, it missed, sailing an inch past his left ear and smashing into pieces as it hit the wall.

    ¡®Gods without papers, now look what you¡¯ve done¡­broken my favourite decanter. Where was your head, idiot child? Why didn¡¯t you stay where you were?¡¯

    Miho had no idea how to respond, so instead leaned in close to Aya and whispered. ¡®You put up with this every morning?¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯d go back to chopping if I were you,¡¯ she replied, eyes on the ginger.

    ¡®But this wasn¡¯t your fault.¡¯

    ¡®Doesn¡¯t matter.¡¯

    Chef Amo bent down to assess the damage to the decanter, then glanced back and saw them chatting. Or conspiring. Just as he was about to burst into another tirade, a cough came from the kitchen entrance, trailed by a stern female voice asking what all the commotion was about.

    ¡®Incompetent staff,¡¯ Chef Amo replied, getting back to his feet and keeping a spotlight style glare on Miho and Aya.

    ¡®I see,¡¯ said Himiko, doing a scan of the mess in front of her.

    ¡®Next time, send them to get ingredients, keep Sachiko and frog face here.¡¯

    ¡®Your suggestion is noted.¡¯

    Entering the kitchen properly, Himiko poured out two cups of green tea and then sipped one of them. Chef Amo seemed unsure about what to do in response, so he returned to the miso soup, mumbling to Aya to hurry up with the ginger as he walked past.

    From that point on, things were quieter.

    And borderline pointless as only two guests bothered to come down for breakfast - the painter and her male model from the previous day - and all they had was a bowl of miso soup and a cup of green tea. To share.

    Chef Amo¡¯s reaction to this was to hit the counter with the ladle then storm off outside, leaving Aya and Miho alone to clear everything up.

    Pouring out two cups of green tea, Aya handed Miho one and smiled.

    ¡®It¡¯s over?¡¯ he asked, finally free enough to yawn again.

    She nodded, sipping through the steam.

    ¡®I don¡¯t know if I can take a month and a half of this.¡¯

    ¡®You get used to it.¡¯

    ¡®How long have you been here?¡¯

    ¡®A while.¡¯ She sipped more tea, looking at the broken pieces of the sh¨­ch¨± decanter still scattered on the floor. ¡®I¡¯m curious. Did you really get all your coins replaced with a bag of stones?¡¯

    Miho sipped his own tea, at first thinking of excuses, then just letting out impromptu laughter in three quick bursts.

    ¡®What?¡¯

    ¡®I suppose I did.¡¯

    ¡®A con man?¡¯

    ¡®That or the purple smoke demon.¡¯

    ¡®Huh?¡¯

    ¡®A joke. To be honest, I don¡¯t know. Last time I remember having them, the coins I mean, I was paying for a chicken bun. Which may not have been chicken.¡¯

    ¡®What do you mean?¡¯

    ¡®It was a weird colour, kind of blue and grey and¡­ah, doesn¡¯t matter. After that, the only person I met was the old woman in the chair, who just said ¡®ohayo¡¯ as I walked past, and the belt salesman on the outskirts of K¨­fu. But it couldn¡¯t have been him, he was really friendly. He even gave me a free bowl of husked rice.¡¯

    Aya stopped the cup just below her lips, staring back at Miho with an expression somewhere between pity and disbelief.

    It took a moment for Miho to register it, and another moment or two, for him to interpret its meaning.

    ¡®You think it was him?¡¯ he asked, frowning.

    ¡®Did he make you try on a belt?¡¯

    ¡®Yes. Several.¡¯

    ¡®And did he hold your original belt while you did that?¡¯

    ¡®For a little bit. Yeah.¡¯

    ¡®Then it was him.¡¯

    ¡®But he was so¡­¡¯ Miho paused, the cup almost tipping over as his brain caught up. ¡®Gods on fatter gods. I¡¯m an idiot fool.¡¯

    ¡®To an impressive degree.¡¯

    ¡®All my coins¡­gone. To a trick that simple. Kuso.¡¯

    Aya drank more green tea, looking at all the leftover chopped vegetables¡­

    ¡®I didn¡¯t even want a new belt either.¡¯

    ¡­and then the tea shot back out, Miho protesting, ¡®hey, my uniform¡¯ as Aya bent forward and tried to stop herself laughing.

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry,¡¯ she repeated a few times, turning the laughs into a coughing fit.

    ¡®No need to apologise,¡¯ replied Miho, wiping the tea from his sleeve. ¡®It¡¯s probably deserved.¡¯

    ¡®It is. But I need to stop laughing before Chef Amo comes back in¡­or he¡¯ll throw another decanter at us.¡¯

    ¡®At me.¡¯

    ¡®Or something worse.¡¯

    ¡®There¡¯s worse?¡¯

    ¡®The knife rack. If he¡¯s in a really bad mood.¡¯

    Miho gave up on the tea stain and stared at the seven blades sticking out of the rack near the sink. Then sipped more tea. Aya eventually stayed crouched by the floor long enough to regain her composure, then straightened up, checking on the kitchen entrance just in case.

    Why do you stay here crossed Miho¡¯s mind several times as he watched her go back to vegetable duty, but he didn¡¯t say it out loud. Instead, he slotted in next to her by the counter and started cutting more ginger.

    She probably wouldn¡¯t answer truthfully anyway, he thought.

    Not to a stranger like him.

 Chapter 8: A More Durable Corpse

    ~~~

    A fresh barrage of sunlight struck the balcony and lit up the room inside, making a passing wasp think, ah, maybe it¡¯s worth investigating after all.

    Buzzing through a gap too tiny for humans to care about, the bold, little insect went beyond the sliding panel and, sticking to the parts of the room that were lit up by the sun, eventually landed on the yellow part of a painting.

    Not a flower was its last thought as, out of nowhere, the tip of a long and curved blade burst through its body and pinned it to the wall.

    ¡®Kuso,¡¯ said, Akira, his forehead drenched in sweat yet his katana hand impressively steady.

    Pulling back the blade [with half the wasp¡¯s body still impaled on the tip], he looked around the rest of the room, checking for larger intruders or potential assassins.

    Seems to be clear, he thought, sheathing his katana. For now. Though I suspect that weird boy with a girl¡¯s name is around here somewhere. Waiting to be reimbursed for his generosity.

    ¡®Kuso,¡¯ he said again, this time with a bitter cough.

    He bent down next to the futon and picked the cup off the floor. There was still some of the medicine left, not much, but it was better than not having it.

    ¡®To not being dead¡­¡¯

    Wiping his yukata sleeve across his forehead, he downed the dregs. The taste was repulsive, which probably meant it was effective. Slowly effective. He was still a bit wobbly on his feet. And his head too. Felt like there was a mini-typhoon swirling around up there, constantly flinging furniture at the walls of his skull.

    If those two ashigaru dogs burst in then, right at that moment, looking for him¡­

    He wiped more sweat off his head and moved out onto the balcony. There was no sign of them outside. No sign of anyone. The whole area, the courtyard with both real and fake chickens, the crooked bridge, the forests on the mountain slope¡­it looked more like a painting than an actual, real place.

    A breeze of early winter air cruised down from high up and made him cough again.

    Deserted and chilly, perfect place for a murder, crossed his addled mind, and sent him back inside to the futon. Putting on his d¨­buku over the yukata, he picked up his katana cord, started tying it to his waist¡­then changed his mind and headed straight for the door, keeping his only form of viable defence tight in his best hand.

    ~~~

    ¡®Are you certain I can¡¯t persuade you to stay longer?¡¯

    ¡®No, thank you. It is decided.¡¯

    ¡®Ten per cent off on all meals?¡¯

    ¡®We are expected back in Nagano, and must get moving before winter sets in.¡¯

    ¡®Fifteen per cent?¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry, but we really must leave. Now. Goodbye.¡¯

    The man with the dark red scarf tied around his neck, who had been posing by the tree topless the previous day, and his female companion in the pale blue yukata, who had been painting him, picked up a case each and walked side by side to the door.

    Himiko watched them go, too annoyed to even laugh as the man struggled to slide the door panel across, then tripped over his girlfriend¡¯s foot when he finally got out.

    She¡¯d offered fifteen per cent off and they¡¯d still fled. Fifteen per cent. The first time she¡¯d ever gone that low. Not that she could blame them really. They¡¯d both been harassed by those two thugs the day before, and then leered at during lunch. And, even though she¡¯d assured them the ashigaru dogs had signed out that morning, they still wanted to get the hell out of there.

    Which meant the ryokan now had a total of three guests: the injured ashigaru, the idiot boy who somehow managed to get suckered by a belt merchant, and the quiet gentleman trying to write his Yuki Onna story.

    She staggered out a long sigh and walked over to the entrance, sliding the door panel open a little bit more to let in some mountain air.

    Gonna be a windy afternoon, she thought, feeling the slight breeze against her neck. Sachiko and frog face might get cold on the way back if they¡¯d forgotten to take their d¨­buku again.

    Silly little girls, always prancing about as if it were permanent summer.

    Another breeze ran through the open door, shaking her green necklace.

    Behind her, there were footsteps, erratic, as if someone with no rhythm was attempting a tap dance.

    Turning back to the lobby and producing her best attempt at a sympathetic nurse face, she asked Akira if he was feeling better.

    ¡®The two men¡­ashigaru¡­where?¡¯

    ¡®You mean your friends?¡¯

    ¡®Are they here?¡¯

    Himiko looked at the diagonal slant of Akira¡¯s standing position, the beads of sweat on his forehead and the katana in his hand that, if it hadn¡¯t been gloved, would¡¯ve been stabbing a hole in her tatami. ¡®If you put away your weapon, I will tell you.¡¯

    Akira gave a grunt then took his hand away from the guard, letting the katana [and scabbard] drop to the floor.

    ¡®I believe they left this morning,¡¯ replied Himiko, pulling her yukata in tighter around the shoulders.

    ¡®Believe? Don¡¯t you run this place?¡¯

    ¡®Co-run.¡¯

    ¡®So they¡¯re gone then?¡¯

    ¡®Yes.¡¯

    Akira started to sway on the spot, and put a hand out towards the wall to steady himself. Unfortunately, he didn¡¯t see what he was putting his hand on, and ripped right through the canvas of a painting of Lake Suwa.

    ¡®I¡¯ll add that to your expenses,¡¯ said Himiko, her nurse face slipping for an instant before swiftly reasserting itself.

    ¡®Which direction did they go? K¨­fu? Suwa?¡¯

    Himiko took a circular route back round to the reception desk, ducking down for a moment then reappearing with a patterned cup.

    ¡®Did you actually see them leave?¡¯

    Walking closer to him, she reached out a hand towards his shoulder, but was pushed away with surprisingly deft skill for someone in such a weakened state. Straightening up to full height, she held out the cup and gestured towards the futon sofa nearby.

    ¡®I think you should rest for a while.¡¯

    ¡®No time.¡¯

    ¡®Drink some more natural remedy.¡¯

    ¡®I have to leave, get out of this place before¡­¡¯ He paused, rubbing his head and falling back against the wall. As before, the painting took the brunt of it. ¡®I can¡¯t stay here.¡¯This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    Himiko set herself down on the futon and stared at the damaged art. ¡®In that case, you will need to settle the bill.¡¯

    ¡®Take it up with the boy, he brought me here.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m afraid the boy has no coin.¡¯

    ¡®What?¡¯

    ¡®He is working off his part of the debt, here in the ryokan.¡¯

    ¡®Why the hell would he check in if-¡­wait, he didn¡¯t have any money?¡¯

    ¡®It is a sad tale. And quite humiliating. I think it is not my place to tell it.¡¯

    Akira hit his head again, looking over at the window as some random chickens danced around one of the fake ones in the courtyard outside, making annoyingly loud clucking noises.

    ¡®So, your part of the bill¡­¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m not paying.¡¯

    ¡®Well¡­in that case¡­¡¯

    ¡®He signed in, not me. I was unconscious, zonked, completely out of it. Not my responsibility.¡¯

    ¡®That is irrelevant.¡¯

    The tone in her voice was colder that time and, despite his weakened state, Akira picked up on it. He crouched down and lifted up the katana, placing it on the table. Just a warning. Didn¡¯t have to be more than that.

    Outside, the chickens stopped clucking.

    Himiko stood up, looking down at the contents within the cup, the little white swirls cascading on the surface.

    ¡®Is there a problem here?¡¯ broke in a new voice, apparently from the figure in the dark green yukata standing by the entrance, but, based solely on the sound itself, more like half a mile away.

    ¡®A guest refusing to pay the bill,¡¯ replied Himiko, keeping her eyes fixed on Akira.

    ¡®Is that so?¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t worry, he¡¯s too unwell to cause any real trouble.¡¯

    The man in the green yukata turned his face towards the torn painting. It was hard to tell how he felt about it as his whole form was almost completely covered in shadow.

    ¡®Who the hell are you?¡¯ asked Akira, putting one hand on the scabbard of his katana, wiping his forehead with the other.

    ¡®Co-manager.¡¯

    ¡®That means co-owner?¡¯

    ¡®If you like.¡¯

    Akira pushed his head forward, squinting like an elderly person. ¡®Why are there six of you?¡¯

    The man in the green yukata stared back, maybe smiling, maybe not.

    ¡®No, eight¡­¡¯ added Akira, his hand dropping from the scabbard of his katana and the rest of him tumbling forward onto the floor. Luckily, he missed the edge of the low table by the width of a mosquito¡¯s wing, which meant at some point he would probably wake up again.

    ¡®Looks like the drink is working,¡¯ said Himiko, walking over and nudging Akira¡¯s head with her foot.

    ¡®Should be ripe in a couple of days,¡¯ replied the man in the green yukata, stepping deeper into the lobby yet, somehow, still maintaining a vague shadowy appearance around his face.

    ¡®Extremely deserved, too, this one. Rude as it gets.¡¯

    ¡®Hmm.¡¯

    ¡®Almost as bad as those other two.¡¯

    ¡®Yes. Perhaps.¡¯

    Himiko moved over to the wall and poked at what was left of Lake Suwa. It wasn¡¯t her favourite painting in the whole ryokan, but it definitely made the top three. And this barbarian had just mauled it to death.

    ¡®Ashigaru dog¡­¡¯ she whispered, stroking the tiny, golden shrine in the painting, her voice just loud enough to carry through the wall and to the ears of the person hiding on the other side.

    Don¡¯t rock the boat, don¡¯t rock the boat, don¡¯t rock the boat, Aya told herself over and over, trying not to breathe or cough, and praying to all the gods that Miho didn¡¯t walk in and say, ¡®hey Aya, why are you pinned to that wall?¡¯

    She¡¯d only known him for half a day, but it seemed exactly like the kind of thing he¡¯d do.

    And then they¡¯d both be in trouble.

    She pictured the green yukata man¡¯s shadowed face, the few times she¡¯d seen him, and shuddered.

    Big trouble.

    ~~~

    Sniffing a trail along the forest floor, the black-tailed fox rejected everything in its path until it finally got to something that looked like a crooked worm.

    Ah, lunch at long last, it thought, pouncing on the poor creature teeth-first.

    Then spitting it out when it realised the poor creature was actually a weirdly-shaped twig.

    Before it could start cursing, another twig dropped from above and landed on its head.

    Nearby, a human shouted something.

    The fox froze on the spot, sniffing the air erratically. It couldn¡¯t be a human, their scent was unmissable, but then its eyes captured the figure of a¡­

    A streak of purple whizzed past the fox, slashing its side and forcing it into a wild sprint out of there.

    The purple circled round and chased it as far as the second tree, swirled in a mini-loop then returned to its original position and shape; an incredibly bored, and quite tired, Japanese woman in a bone-white yukata.

    Can¡¯t even be bothered killing anything, Atta Noe complained to herself internally, staring down onto the clearing below.

    Apart from that ashigaru.

    And the idiot boy.

    And those two incompetent box carriers who were probably sitting in a gutter somewhere, too drunk to recognise their own legs.

    Leaving her out in the middle of nowhere like this, for almost a whole day. Not being around to put the lid back on her box so she could recharge properly without fear of some bandit passing by and-¡­

    Atta Noe¡¯s thoughts stopped abruptly, her head phasing to its purple state and then back again.

    Gods, this was intolerable.

    She couldn¡¯t function this way.

    Even if those two useless louts had gone astray, Shingen should¡¯ve sent back up men to fetch her. Unless¡­

    She checked the trees behind her, lowering the noise of her natural internal swirling.

    Would Atta Ka Yukio really do something that bold? That paranoid?

    A bureaucrat like him?

    The faint sound of human voices flowed up from the path below, making Atta Noe¡¯s head turn so fast that any observer would¡¯ve called it the devil¡¯s work.

    ¡®Ah, finally,¡¯ she said, soft as the breeze lifting her up onto her feet.

    Intensifying the swirls inside, she stepped forward and threw herself face first down the slope. Normally, she would¡¯ve cushioned the blows from each rock she hit on the way down with purple suppression pockets, but she couldn¡¯t risk the two humans catching sight of that. And she didn¡¯t want to make the same mistake she¡¯d made with the boy; walking down with a sad face and a whimper, relying on his chivalric code.

    No, this time she would make it impossible not to help.

    Reaching the bottom of the slope, she tumbled an extra metre then dragged herself to her feet, staggered as close as she could to the edge of the path without bothering the barrier and then collapsed again.

    It was an impressive performance, especially the dazed walking lost routine at the end, and the two young women in brown yukatas walking along the nearby path had no choice but to stop and say, ¡®wah.¡¯

    ¡®Attacked¡­¡¯ slurred Atta Noe, holding out an arm to them then drawing back in pain.

    ¡®It¡¯s okay, we¡¯re coming,¡¯ said the shorter of the two women, nicknamed Frog Face, who dropped her basket and rushed forward.

    ¡®Wait,¡¯ cautioned Sachiko, grabbing her friend¡¯s arm and pulling it back.

    ¡®Sachi-chan, she¡¯s hurt.¡¯

    ¡®Is she?¡¯

    Frog face pointed both arms at the bedraggled form of Atta Noe, shaking them dramatically.

    ¡®How do we know she didn¡¯t do it herself?¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯re crazy! She just fell down that slope. We both saw it.¡¯

    ¡®Could be a trick. Bandits. She might be one of them.¡¯

    ¡®Bandits¡­¡¯ repeated Atta Noe, followed by a series of whimpering noises. ¡®Up there¡­beat me¡­touched me¡­¡¯

    Frog Face shot a fierce look to Sachiko that said SEE! then wriggled out of her friend¡¯s grip and ran over to the injured woman. Falling to her knees, she took Atta Noe¡¯s hand and asked her where exactly she was hurt.

    ¡®In my chest,¡¯ she replied, turning the hand that wasn¡¯t being squeezed to purple and spearing a hole through the young woman¡¯s brown yukata.

    The action was so fast that Frog Face didn¡¯t know what had happened to her, and opened her mouth to say which part of your chest? However, instead of words, there was a huge glob of blood.

    ¡®¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­¡¯ screamed Atta Noe in her native tongue, taking half of it on her face.

    ¡®What¡¯s going on, Frog?¡¯ asked Sachiko, taking two steps closer.

    ¡®She¡¯s sick, get her off me,¡¯ said Atta Noe, keeping the corpse of Frog Face propped up with her purple spear hand.

    ¡®Frog?¡¯

    ¡®Quickly, her face is turning blue.¡¯

    Still sceptical, Sachiko looked up towards the top of the slope, checking for random bandit faces peeking out from behind rocks or trees, then came back to the injured woman.

    A bird screeched somewhere in the distance, forcing her hand onto a small blade tucked in the belt of her yukata.

    ¡®Frog,¡¯ she tried again, taking a wide approach towards her friend. ¡®Say something.¡¯

    ¡®That will be difficult,¡¯ answered Atta Noe, finally letting go of the body and wiping the blood off her face.

    ¡®You witch!¡¯ shouted Sachiko, taking out her blade. ¡®What did you do to her?¡¯

    ¡®Killed her. Obviously.¡¯

    Sachiko¡¯s eyes went supernova and rage carried her forward, the knife lowered into a slashing position.

    It didn¡¯t matter.

    One swipe of purple and she was on the ground, staring at an unsympathetic blade of grass, the dark of her own blood staining its side.

    ¡®You are truly a heartless wretch,¡¯ said Atta Noe, swirling into a kneeling position by Sachiko¡¯s ear. ¡®Letting a poor woman of virtue lie injured on the ground and not rushing to help.¡¯

    Sachiko made a croaking noise, her hand edging forward a millimetre at a time towards her blade.

    ¡®Still, I must admit, yours does appear to be the more capable body.¡¯

    Another swish of purple and the struggle was over.

    In the distance, another bird screeched.

    The corpses of Sachiko and Frog Face lay still for a few seconds then, the fresher of the two, and apparently more capable, jerked her right arm. Then her left arm. Then the rest of her limbs. Satisfied, she pressed both palms into the dirt and pushed herself up onto her knees. With her eyes glowing purple, Atta Noe, in the guise of the heartless Sachiko wretch, scanned the path in both directions, ahead and back.

    The rational choice is to return to Shingen, she thought, examining the wounds on her new body. Alert him, send more men, retrieve the box. That¡¯s what Atta Ka Yukio would suggest.

    The same Atta Ka Yukio who¡¯d probably stranded her out here.

    Her fingers stretched out, the purple inside unable to evacuate and swirl in annoyance.

    No, that traitor could wait.

    This body was relatively durable, not too damaged. Should be more than enough to make it to the ryokan and then back to K¨­fu. Hopefully with two quick stabbings in between.

    The bird screeched again, this time slightly off key.

    Taking it as a cue, Atta Noe directed her new vessel onto its feet, picked up the blade the girl had dropped and started off along the path to the right.

    A quick revenge, she told herself, covering the neck wound with the collar of the girl¡¯s yukata. Then back to Shingen.

 Chapter 9: Not A Very Convincing Human

    ~~~

    For the seventh time in twenty minutes, Himiko got up and slid the door panel across, the skin of her feet shivering slightly as the draught increased its desperation to get in.

    ¡®Every single day,¡¯ she muttered, returning to her chair at the side and picking up the stack of rice paper.

    ¡®It¡¯s from the mountain?¡¯ asked Miho from a table nearby, turning a small ornament in his hand and poking a dusting brush into its little crevices.

    ¡®Hell is more likely. For some reason, it seems to accumulate just outside the front of this place and then rushes in. Always at this time of day. When I¡¯m sitting here, trying to relax with my late morning green tea.¡¯

    ¡®Why don¡¯t you use some kind of latch?¡¯ Miho glanced over at Aya, who was wiping the table surfaces in the reception area with a scrunched up cloth. She looked up and, almost imperceptibly, shook her head. ¡®On the door, I mean¡­¡¯

    ¡®Oh, I¡¯d never thought of that,¡¯ said Himiko, eyes on the rice paper. ¡®A latch for the door. What an incredible mind you have.¡¯

    ¡®It would keep the wind out. Might make the door rattle a bit, but-¡­¡¯

    ¡®Just focus on the dusting, pebble collector.¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­yes, sensei.¡¯

    ¡®I told you, don¡¯t call me that.¡¯

    ¡®Okay¡­boss.¡¯

    ¡®Meishin will do. Or Himiko if it¡¯s off hours. And there are no guests around.¡¯

    Miho bowed slightly and continued with his chores, while Himiko went back to her own toil; the ryokan accounts. Judging by the range of facial expressions she was cycling through, they weren¡¯t in very good shape.

    After dusting the other ornaments laid out on the window-side bench, Miho moved across the reception to the same table Aya was wiping. He noticed the scrunched up cloth and lack of bubbles in her bucket, but didn¡¯t say anything. For all he knew, her technique was the superior one¡­though she was taking quite a long time to do it.

    ¡®It¡¯s bad luck,¡¯ she whispered to the cloth in her hand.

    ¡®Sorry?¡¯

    ¡®To put a latch on a ryokan entrance. Creates an unwelcoming aura. Not good for business.¡¯

    Miho stopped dusting the green bottle in his hand and looked around the reception area. Him, Aya and Himiko. No sign of any other life.

    ¡®I know. It¡¯s her belief, not mine. Safer just to keep your head down, do your chores.¡¯

    Aya finished wiping her table, put the cloth in the vaguely soapy water and dragged the bucket over to the next table.

    Miho quickly dusted the remaining ornaments and plant pots and followed after her. Before he could get out his next question [why doesn¡¯t she put up more promotional signs?], the door panel slid open again and a fresh burst of chilled mountain air forced its way in.

    ¡®Not even two minutes,¡¯ shouted Himiko, grabbing the panel and yanking it back across. ¡®You¡¯d think it¡¯d take a rest at some point¡­¡¯

    Miho opened his mouth to respond but a quick kick to the shin from Aya stopped him from saying anything.

    ¡®Work,¡¯ she said, about as far under her breath as she could make it.

    ¡®Yes, meishin,¡¯ he replied, picking up a ceremonial tea pot and dusting the bottom.

    ¡®I have to admit,¡¯ said Himiko, observing them from her seat. ¡®Despite obvious flaws, the two of you do make quite an effective team.¡¯

    ¡®We¡¯re doing two separate chores,¡¯ Miho answered, confused as he received another kick to the shin.

    ¡®Diligent, too. Unlike those two flighty bubble-heads¡­¡¯ Himiko looked down at the rice paper accounts, running her finger along the staff salary column. ¡®It seems to me that you could probably handle all the chores yourself, the two of you together.¡¯

    ¡®All of them?¡¯ Aya burst out, then instantly kicked her own shin. ¡®I mean¡­it¡¯s not impossible, but-¡­¡¯

    ¡®For instance, if I sent you, Aya, out now to pick vegetables for dinner, I¡¯m certain you¡¯d be back within the hour. If I asked you, Miho, to clean all the rooms and tend to the plants outside, you¡¯d probably have it done within two.¡¯

    ¡®Four might be more realistic¡­¡¯

    ¡®Those two silly girls, on the other hand¡­I send them out to Nirasaki first thing this morning, with the simple task of buying vegetables for dinner, and they still have not returned.¡¯

    ¡®That is odd,¡¯ muttered Aya, moving a step closer to the front window and peering out.

    ¡®Not odd, Aya, it¡¯s a pattern of behaviour. Admittedly, they¡¯ve never been this late before, but their general attitude and performance¡­¡¯

    ¡®Should I go and look for them?¡¯

    ¡®You?¡¯

    ¡®They may have been attacked by bandits.¡¯

    ¡®I just said, your duty is to go out and pick reserve vegetables for tonight¡¯s meal. Fuki, shungiku, mountain asparagus, anything else you can find. Miho, you will stay and dust the rest of the ryokan. And wipe the surfaces too.¡¯

    Hearing his own name along with wipe the surfaces led Miho to instant puzzlement, mostly because he¡¯d been so busy dusting the ceremonial tea pot that he¡¯d missed the talk of Aya going out to pick vegetables, and when he turned to gauge her reaction to it, his foot clipped the side of the bucket and slapstick ensued.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    The ceremonial tea pot slipped out of his hand¡­he tried to adjust and catch it with his other foot¡­and ended up kicking it with surprising force at the welcome board behind the reception desk.

    Somehow, it survived that impact unscathed, but not the collision with the stone floor. Which was impressive in itself as that was the only part of the reception that wasn¡¯t covered in fitted tatami.

    The sound of shattering enamel was excruciating.

    As was the wait for Himiko¡¯s reaction.

    ¡®Don¡¯t say anything,¡¯ whispered Aya, her eyes closed.

    Fortunately, the draught saved the day, blowing the door panel open yet again. Getting up to deal with it, Himiko looked out at the bridge indicating the start of the ryokan grounds and shook her head.

    ¡®Change of plans. Miho, you go with Aya to pick vegetables.¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­¡¯

    ¡®Understood,¡¯ interjected Aya quickly.

    ¡®I expect you both back within the hour. And don¡¯t go too far up the mountains.¡¯

    ¡®Yes, Meishin.¡¯

    Aya nudged Miho, who was standing like a stuffed bear, staring at the mess he¡¯d just made. He blinked back to life and turned to Himiko, his hand pointing back at the piece of tea pot on the floor.

    ¡®Don¡¯t bother,¡¯ she replied, sitting back down and picking up the accounts. ¡®You¡¯ll probably break something else while clearing it up.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯ll pay for the damage.¡¯

    ¡®With what?¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­¡¯

    ¡®Ah, more days of work. Good idea.¡¯ She twisted the string of the green necklace, eyes lighting up. ¡®Off you go then. I¡¯ll stay here a while, try to remember how much that tea pot cost.¡¯

    ¡®Yes, Meishin,¡¯ said Aya, throwing the cloth in the bucket and dragging Miho by the arm out into the courtyard.

    ~~~

    A little while later, on the sparsely forested slopes not far from the ryokan, Aya and Miho stood slightly bent, picking fuki out of its native soil.

    It wasn¡¯t hard work, the roots were relatively loose, and all the stalks they¡¯d got so far were completely undamaged, which meant Miho had plenty of time to talk endlessly about the tea pot debacle.

    ¡®Why did I try to catch it with my foot? What part of my brain thought that would be helpful? Wah¡­doesn¡¯t make sense. Reflexes are fast, but they shouldn¡¯t be that stupid. Kuso. Still can¡¯t believe it actually happened. Never been that clumsy before. Apart from the time I broke the pot back home. But that was only cos I¡¯d slipped on the dog.¡¯

    ¡®Here, take this,¡¯ Aya said, clearly not listening to a word he was saying.

    Miho took the fuki by the end of its stalk and dropped it in the basket with the others.

    ¡®What do you think?¡¯ he continued, pulling up a fuki of his own. ¡®Will Himiko add another week to my total?¡¯

    ¡®If she does, you can count yourself lucky. Another boss would¡¯ve fired you on the spot. Or given you a beating.¡¯

    ¡®I wouldn¡¯t mind being fired¡­¡¯

    ¡®At least with Himiko you¡¯ve got a chance.¡¯

    ¡®¡­then I could be free. But she was quite calm, when the tea pot broke. Weirdly calm.¡¯

    ¡®That¡¯s her style.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, it¡¯s probably because of that green necklace she wears. Must have a soothing effect or something.¡¯

    ¡®Sure, soothing necklace.¡¯

    ¡®Or that tattoo she has on her breas-¡­near her collarbone. It¡¯s very distinctive, very green. I wonder where she got it from.¡¯

    Aya threw another fuki directly into the basket then picked it up and moved along the slope.

    ¡®Do you know?¡¯ Miho asked, trailing her.

    ¡®About Himiko¡¯s past? Nope. Only that she¡¯s managed this ryokan for the last four years.¡¯

    ¡®And before that?¡¯

    ¡®No idea.¡¯

    ¡®She¡¯s never talked about it?¡¯

    Aya stopped, kneeling down to inspect a bush of extremely ripe-looking red berries. She picked one off and held it to her nose.

    ¡®Not those,¡¯ said Miho, swatting it out of her hand. ¡®They¡¯re poisonous.¡¯

    ¡®How do you know?¡¯

    ¡®My sister ate some when she was young. Barely survived.¡¯

    Aya looked back at the berry bush, tilting her head slightly as if that would confirm what Miho was saying to her. It must¡¯ve worked as she nodded, picked up the basket and moved on.

    The rest of the slope was close to desolate, in terms of edible vegetation at least, so they headed back down into the denser part of the forest. Miho asked again what Aya knew about Himiko¡¯s past and got the same blank response.

    ¡®Aren¡¯t you curious about what she did?¡¯

    ¡®Not enough to get fired.¡¯

    ¡®You think it¡¯s that bad?¡¯

    Aya put her hand in the basket and shuffled the fuki around, looking for the other vegetables they¡¯d picked. ¡®We need more shungiku.¡¯

    ¡®Should be closer to the stream.¡¯

    Aya didn¡¯t bother nodding, she just moved past Miho and followed a dirt trail through a thick clump of trees. He caught up with her quickly and restated his previous question.

    ¡®She¡¯s too old for you,¡¯ Aya replied, casually tagging each tree trunk with her hand as she passed.

    ¡®What?¡¯

    ¡®And you¡¯re too young to interest her.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m not-¡­I have a girlfriend already. Or I did.¡¯

    ¡®If you say so.¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s true, her name¡¯s Yuki. I¡¯m looking for her and¡­I mean, I was looking for her before I ended up working here. That¡¯s why I don¡¯t mind if Himiko fires me. I need to get back on the road and-¡­¡¯

    ¡®Wah, she¡¯s back.¡¯

    ¡®Huh? Who?¡¯

    Aya hurried ahead, jumping over a little stream in one bound, and coming to a stop in front of the tired-looking figure of Sachiko, who quickly wrapped her yukata tighter around her chest.

    ¡®Hey, where the hell have you been? Himiko¡¯s been looking for you.¡¯

    Sachiko stared at Aya¡¯s face, as if she were seeing it for the first time.

    ¡®Did you not even get the ingredients?¡¯ Aya asked, looking at the tall woman¡¯s empty hands, the complete lack of a basket or bag. ¡®Ah, doesn¡¯t matter, I guess. We¡¯ve almost picked enough now anyway.¡¯

    ¡®How far is it to the ryokan?¡¯ asked Sachiko, her eyes briefly flashing the tiniest glint of purple as Miho appeared behind Aya, carrying the basket of vegetables.

    ¡®Err¡­as far as it usually is.¡¯

    ¡®Weren¡¯t there two of you?¡¯ added Miho, scanning the path behind.

    Sachiko stared forward, at Miho¡¯s neck, her head bobbing like it was out in Suruga Bay. ¡®The other one¡­left.¡¯

    ¡®Other one? You mean Frog Face?¡¯

    ¡®She met a young man at the market. Went off to have sex with him. Indefinitely. Not coming back.¡¯

    Both Aya and Miho stared gormlessly forward at Sachiko¡¯s face until Aya managed to shuffle out some words. ¡®Are you serious?¡¯

    ¡®It is normal for young girls without brains.¡¯

    ¡®She just went off¡­no message for Himiko or-¡­¡¯

    ¡®I just told you, it is normal for young girls without brains. She will cling to him until he tires of her body and then most likely turn to alley way prostitution. Another two years and she¡¯ll be dust in the ground.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry¡­you are talking about Frog Face, your best friend¡­right?¡¯

    ¡®Yes, that one. Her.¡¯

    ¡®That one?¡¯

    ¡®I was quite sad at the time. But now it is done.¡¯ Sachiko looked at Miho¡¯s face, and then the basket in his hand. ¡®Your load is still small. I will help you pick more.¡¯

    ¡®I think you better go back and see Himiko first,¡¯ said Aya, shaking her head. ¡®She¡¯s pretty mad.¡¯

    ¡®No. I will pick vegetables. With the boy.¡¯

    ¡®Me?¡¯ asked Miho, checking behind for other man shapes.

    ¡®Obviously.¡¯

    ¡®You wanna pick together?¡¯

    ¡®That¡­is what I said.¡¯

    Aya glanced at Miho, who shrugged, inadvertently tipping the basket to the side and almost dropping half the fuki onto the ground.

    ¡®You go back, tell Himiko I am here,¡¯ continued Sachiko, gesturing with her hand in the wrong direction. ¡®Tell her I am making amends.¡¯

    ¡®And Frog Face?¡¯

    ¡®That too.¡¯

    ¡®Okay¡­if that¡¯s what you want?¡¯

    Sachiko nodded, allowing her yukata to spill open a bit and the dried blood stain on her undershirt to be revealed. Or it would¡¯ve been if Aya hadn¡¯t been looking at the path back to the ryokan, and Miho at the basket. Realising her lapse, Sachiko pulled the right side of the yukata tight and then, as Miho¡¯s attention returned, grabbed him by the forearm and led him off down the side of the stream.

    ¡®What exactly do I tell Himiko?¡¯ shouted Aya after them, but they either didn¡¯t hear or didn¡¯t care as there was no reply.

    ¡®Fine,¡¯ she mumbled, turning back to the path. ¡®Go fuck each other, see who cares? Not like there¡¯s any more work to do around here¡­¡¯

 Chapter 10: Cold Dead Hands

    ~~~

    After putting at least twenty trees between them and Aya, Miho wrestled back control of his arm and asked what was going on.

    Sachiko checked back again, making sure there was no one watching, then slipped her right hand inside her yukata. As she did so, the muscle in her arm twinged, followed by her leg as she stepped back awkwardly onto an uneven mound of dirt.

    ¡®Wah, it¡¯s tight¡­¡¯ she said, wincing from the pain.

    ¡®Probably from walking so much.¡¯

    ¡®This stupid leg¡­is not working properly.¡¯

    Miho knelt down and put his hand near her calf. ¡®May I?¡¯

    ¡®What are you doing?¡¯

    ¡®My mum used to do this for me when I got cramp. It¡¯s a massage technique.¡¯ He moved his palm up the back of her calf, then ran his knuckles the other way. ¡®Wah, your skin is pretty cold. Are you feeling okay?¡¯

    ¡®Get off me.¡¯

    ¡®You might have caught something from being outside so long in the cold air.¡¯

    Sachiko turned her face away from Miho and raged full purple, shooting sparks down the veins and bones of the host body, unintentionally producing a reflex in the leg that kicked Miho onto the bank of the stream.

    ¡®Looks like it¡¯s better,¡¯ he said, propping himself up on his elbows and looking at what he¡¯d almost hit to the right. ¡®Ah, shungiku, I found it. Sort of.¡¯

    ¡®How dare you touch my leg,¡¯ said Sachiko, stretching out both her calf and right arm at the same time.

    ¡®Sorry, I was just trying to help.¡¯ Miho stood back up and peeled off his d¨­buku, making a move to drape it round her shoulders. ¡®You¡¯re still way too cold though.¡¯

    ¡®I do not want your clothing.¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s very warm.¡¯

    ¡®Take it off.¡¯

    Miho let go and took a step back, evaluating the placement. ¡®It actually looks quite good on you.¡¯

    ¡®Do your ears not work?¡¯

    ¡®Of course, it¡¯s better if you tie it up. I¡¯ll let you do that part yourself.¡¯

    Sachiko grabbed part of the d¨­buku and squeezed it tight, but didn¡¯t take it off. Turning her eyes to the crop of shungiku on the bank of the stream, she pointed and said, quite sharply, ¡®pick.¡¯

    ¡®Right, I almost forgot about those,¡¯ replied Miho, getting back on his knees and pulling the basket to within dropping range. ¡®Too busy admiring you in my jacket.¡¯

    He added a chuckle at the end, but it didn¡¯t matter as Sachiko wasn¡¯t listening. She was too focused on pulling the dagger from her blood-spotted yukata and figuring out the best area to stab. Back of the neck seemed the easiest. One swift strike downwards. But could she rely on this host body¡¯s wrist strength to get it done? Maybe not. The legs were already falling apart, other parts could be in decay too. In which case, slicing the throat would be the wiser course. Grab his hair, pull the head back tight and cut. Carve if she had to.

    Going with the second option, she moved forward, using the denser patches of grass to disguise her approach. A bird screeched in the branches above, perhaps a warning to her prey.

    It went unheeded, the idiot boy jabbering about the quality of the shungiku he was picking.

    Yes, keep jabbering, she thought, creeping closer. Jabber, jabber, jabber while I drain your blood. With these pitiful human hands.

    The bird screeched again, determined.

    And once again, it was ignored.

    Ha, foolish child¡­completely oblivious to everything around you.

    Getting within touching range, Sachiko held the dagger out and tilted it right, putting her other hand right next to the largest clump of hair that she could locate.

    ¡®For defying a god¡­¡¯ she whispered, counting to four.

    In one fluid, purple-assisted motion, she closed her left hand around the hair, slid the dagger to the side and watched in sheer panic as a bunch of shungiku appeared out of nowhere, the hand attached to it batting the blade out of her grip and down into the stream.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    ¡®See how healthy they look,¡¯ started Miho, before hearing the splash in the water and then seeing Sachiko clutching her hand in a mix of pain and anger. ¡®Wah, are you okay? Did I hit you?¡¯

    ¡®¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­,¡¯ she screamed, falling to her knees and scrambling towards the stream.

    ¡®Hey, where are you going? Did something fall in the river?¡¯

    ¡®Can¡¯t see it¡­¡¯

    Miho shuffled across the grass and put his hands on her shoulders, pulling her back from the edge. ¡®Careful, it¡¯s freezing in there.¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s gone¡­¡­¡¯

    ¡®What did you drop?¡¯

    Sachiko stopped struggling and buried her face in the grass. She stayed that way for about two minutes as Miho gently patted her shoulders, telling her that whatever it was that dropped in, he would buy her another one.

    ¡®Just stab yourself,¡¯ she said, in a barely audible voice.

    ¡®What?¡¯

    ¡®Or let me crawl up and bite you to death.¡¯

    ¡®Sorry, I can¡¯t hear you well, your face is in the grass.¡¯

    Rolling herself over onto her back, she pushed away his hands and glared up at his throat, the rays from the sun forcing her to squint like a drunkard. ¡®Ah, these eyes¡­¡¯

    ¡®You shouldn¡¯t look directly at the sun, it¡¯s dangerous.¡¯

    ¡®¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­¡¯

    ¡®Sorry?¡¯

    Sachiko put a hand up to shield her malfunctioning human eyes. ¡®I said, get back over there and pick more vegetables.¡¯

    ¡®Are you sure you¡¯re okay?¡¯

    ¡®I will be once I find a particularly large rock.¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­okay then. I¡¯ll get back to the shungiku picking. Let you lie here and recover for a while.¡¯

    ~~~

    Quickly putting the dagger incident behind her, Sachiko forced herself up and went for a stroll farther down the stream, scanning the less grassy patches for usable rocks.

    In the background, Miho kept talking at a higher volume as he picked more shungiku, asking if she¡¯d seen anyone on the way back from Nirasaki.

    ¡®No.¡¯

    Sachiko stopped, kneeling down next to a larger than usual pebble. She picked it up and gripped it in her hand, then turned and tried to imagine the kind of crater it might make on the back of Miho¡¯s skull.

    ¡®You didn¡¯t come across a woman in a white yukata?¡¯

    ¡®I did not.¡¯

    She dropped the pebble back into the dirt, then picked it up again and threw it in the stream. Her pupils lit up indigo, making her right arm spasm. A whole stream bank and no rocks big enough to even wound an ant.

    ¡®Wah, you¡¯re really lucky then. I met a woman like that a couple of days ago, on the same path.¡¯

    ¡®Really¡­¡¯

    Her eyes turned away from the stream and towards the trees on the other side. Ah, if it couldn¡¯t be a rock¡­

    ¡®She said the guy on the path¡­the guy I¡¯d just walked into and found, unconscious¡­was her friend. Then she offered me sex to bring him to her.¡¯

    ¡®And you turned her down,¡¯ said Sachiko, picking up a twig nearly the same size as her dagger and picking at the tip with her fingernail.

    ¡®It was a bit weird. Yeah, I refused cos I already have a girlfriend. Though, to be honest, she was quite pretty.¡¯

    ¡®Quite?¡¯

    ¡®But then her body turned into purple mist and she threatened to kill me for not helping her.¡¯

    ¡®¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­¡¯ cursed Sachiko in her native tongue as the twig snapped in two.

    ¡®At least, I think that¡¯s what happened. It may have been a hallucination. See, there was this chicken I¡¯d eaten before all that, Kumamoto style chicken, but it was blue so I¡¯m not sure¡­maybe it poisoned me a bit. Made me see weird things.¡¯

    Giving up on the weapon search, Sachiko squeezed her two hands together, shaking them slightly as more purple energy flowed inside. ¡®Do you know what I would have done, if I were you?¡¯

    ¡®About the purple mist woman?¡¯

    ¡®If such an interesting, unique being had approached me in that way?¡¯

    ¡®I don¡¯t know. Run away?¡¯

    ¡®No.¡¯

    ¡®Had sex with her?¡¯

    Sachiko walked back to the edge of the stream and along the dirt to where Miho was still picking shungiku, his back turned. Knocking her fists together, she unfolded and placed the palms of her hands on both sides of Miho¡¯s neck.

    ¡®I would¡¯ve assisted the pretty woman,¡¯ she whispered, tightening her grip.

    ¡®Wah¡­¡¯ replied Miho, his shoulders giving out an upwards reflex, trying to twist the hands off.

    ¡®That¡¯s it¡­turn around.¡¯

    ¡®Stop¡­¡¯

    ¡®Show me the throat.¡¯

    ¡®No, stop¡­I can¡¯t¡­¡¯

    Miho twisted the whole left side of his body then raised up an arm and shrugged her off. She came straight back at him, aiming for the throat and failing completely as he seized hold of her wrists.

    ¡®Get off me,¡¯ she screamed, the voice faltering on the last word.

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry¡­your hands¡­it felt too good. If Yuki knew I let another girl do that¡­¡¯

    ¡®Felt good?!¡¯

    There was noise from the trees, not a bird.

    ¡®What¡¯s going on?¡¯ asked Aya, walking out from between two trunks, adding another cough at the end, just in case.

    ¡®Err¡­nothing.¡¯ Miho grabbed the basket and sprang to his feet, almost losing his balance and toppling down into the stream. ¡®We were picking shungiku. Just finished actually. Right?¡¯

    He looked down at the cramped-up figure of Sachiko, who simply muttered, ¡®I hate this body.¡¯

    ¡®You came back fast,¡¯ continued Miho, moving over to Aya. ¡®What did Himiko say?¡¯

    ¡®That we should all come back immediately.¡¯

    ¡®Right, good idea. We definitely have enough shungiku now. Are you ready, Sachiko?¡¯

    Miho and Aya both turned to their despondent colleague, who had recovered enough of her mind to say she would stay back a while, look for more vegetables.

    ¡®I don¡¯t think that¡¯s such a good idea,¡¯ said Miho.

    ¡®Me neither,¡¯ added Aya, frowning at the mess on Sachiko¡¯s yukata, ¡®she may fire you if you don¡¯t turn up soon.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m fine. Go.¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­okay. If you¡¯re certain that¡¯s what you want?¡¯

    ¡®You can give the d¨­buku back later,¡¯ added Miho, rubbing his neck and wincing a bit. ¡®Or keep it for a while. I don¡¯t mind really.¡¯

    ¡®Stop talking at me and leave.¡¯

    Looking at the contents of the basket, Miho and Aya raised eyebrows at each other in the universal symbol of what the fuck¡¯s up with her, then headed a little stiffly back along the path.

    A mountain eagle-hawk swooped low over the canopy to signal their departure, completely messing up its attempt to snare an idling hawfinch.

    Smirking at the hawk¡¯s failure, Sachiko turned and looked at the now distant, ant-like forms of the two humans.

    ¡®Yes, leave, little wretches,¡¯ she muttered, scanning the path for a new twig. ¡®Let me get some strength back¡­so I can come visit you tonight. Both of you.¡¯

 Chapter 11: Himikos Marvellous Medicine

    ~~~

    Mistaking the light emanating from the ryokan window for an especially large [and out of season] firefly, the tree frog leapt up onto the wooden balcony and stuck its tongue out.

    It held it there for a few seconds, hoping a stray mosquito didn¡¯t cruise by.

    Nothing worse than one of those.

    When it was younger, sure, they were fun, their little bodies vibrating even when they¡¯d been swallowed down into the stomach, but as an adult¡­nope. Too likely to give you indigestion. Or worst case scenario, diarrhoea.

    A cold gust of wind blew past, bringing dirt particles up from the courtyard below.

    Feeling the chill, the frog reeled its tongue back in and, with a confused sense of direction, jumped forward through the gap in the door panel.

    The wisteria bonsai tree on the desk only confused it further, as the rest of the space seemed to be a snugly-lit cave.

    Ah, it thought, not a bad place to settle down. Assuming no one else is occupying it. Doesn¡¯t look like they are.

    Intercepting the frog¡¯s thought, a groaning sound emanated from the nearby futon, followed by a gigantic arm swinging around and hitting the yukata-covered body it was attached to.

    The frog¡¯s drunk human nearby alarm blared loud and internal, prompting the panicked creature to leap quickly back through the gap and out into the forest beyond.

    Groaning again, Akira raised his head and looked around the room. From his blurred perspective, there were twelve walls, five paintings of Mt Fuji and a beautiful collection of okiandon that someone had lit on fire.

    ¡®Wahhhh¡­¡¯

    He pulled himself up higher and tried to re-focus, but when he did, his head started to ache and he was forced back down again. Groaning a third time, he looked towards the balcony, the slight gap between the wall and the panel showing something oddly green and shiny.

    Pushing his head forward an inch along the pillow, he squinted and narrowed it down to two floating balls of glowing, green light.

    Fireflies? he wondered, squinting so hard his eyes hurt.

    On the other side of the room, the door panel slid open and, following the drawn-out shuffling sound of zori being removed, Miho¡¯s haggard face appeared.

    ¡®Temporary break,¡¯ he said, walking over to the balcony door panel and sliding it shut. ¡®Five minutes then back down to the kitchen.¡¯

    ¡®Not like that¡­¡¯ mumbled Akira, pointing at the wisteria bonsai tree on the desk, his whole arm shaking. ¡®Fireflies¡­watching me¡­¡¯

    Frowning, Miho came back over and bent down next to Akira¡¯s head. Gently lowering the samurai¡¯s arm with an accompanying hush sound, he put his hand on Akira¡¯s forehead and muttered, ¡®wah, like a volcano.¡¯

    ¡®Thought there were two, sure of it, but¡­who would the other one be? Can¡¯t be Kenji, not after the bridge thing, but who then?¡¯

    ¡®Okay, try to sleep again,¡¯ said Miho, reaching over for the face towel on the other futon. ¡®I¡¯ll wet this a little bit, cool you down.¡¯

    ¡®No, have to open¡­they¡¯re out there, guarding me¡­greenest little fireflies you ever¡­¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll take care of it.¡¯

    Miho got up to moisten the towel, but was pulled straight back down by Akira, who rose up from the pillow with a manic look in his eyes. An equally manic arm attempted to jab at the door panel, but got as far as Miho¡¯s shoulder before acting out a spasm and dropping.

    Then the eyelids fluttered, closed up shop and he was out again.

    ~~~

    ¡®What exactly did she say?¡¯

    ¡®I told you.¡¯

    ¡®Nothing else?¡¯

    ¡®No.¡¯

    ¡®An apology? Some better excuses?¡¯

    ¡®No.¡¯

    Himiko looked at the chopping knife sticking out from the end of her right hand and Aya¡¯s position backed up tight against the kitchen wall, realised the optics, and placed the blade gently back down on the surface.

    ¡®Sorry, I didn¡¯t know I was holding that.¡¯

    ¡®For nearly five minutes,¡¯ replied Aya, relaxing slightly as Himiko followed up her apology by moving back to the soup station and folding her arms.

    ¡®I just don¡¯t understand what she¡¯s playing at. It¡¯s been over four hours. Did you tell her I was angry with her?¡¯

    ¡®Not really. Or maybe I did. I don¡¯t know, it¡¯s all a little hazy now.¡¯

    ¡®Did she seem scared?¡¯Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    ¡®Err¡­the opposite, actually.¡¯

    ¡®Not scared?¡¯

    ¡®More like annoyed. It was a bit strange. She told us to leave in quite a sharp tone. Actually, a really sharp tone¡­as if we¡¯d done something wrong and she was¡­¡¯

    Himiko waited for the key word to slide out, but Aya was too busy running a fingertip over her lip. ¡®She was what?¡¯

    ¡®Well¡­you. As if she were in your position, the boss of the ryokan.¡¯

    Himiko glanced at Chef Amo, who was over on the other side of the kitchen, chopping the head off a chicken that had an unusually resigned look on its face. As if it had known all along that this is where it would end up.

    ¡®Do you have any idea where she might be?¡¯

    ¡®One or two. Here, let me finish with this chicken then I¡¯ll go out and look for her.¡¯

    ¡®No, no time¡­we have to finish serving dinner first. Guests take priority above all else. Golden rule of ryokan hospitality.¡¯

    Chef Amo paused his chopping and looked through the hole in the wall, into the dining area. Apart from Miho walking round the side and almost knocking a painting off the wall with his shoulder, there was no one.

    ¡®Don¡¯t say guest, singular, I¡¯m not in the mood.¡¯

    ¡®I wasn¡¯t going to,¡¯ replied Chef Amo, resuming chicken duty.

    The panel to the kitchen slid open and Miho walked in, rubbing his shoulder. He nodded at Aya then walked over to Himiko, slouching slightly so he would appear smaller than her. Then straightening up again when he saw her shaking her head.

    ¡®I don¡¯t suppose you have news about our runaway staff, do you?¡¯

    ¡®Who?¡¯

    ¡®The one you picked vegetables with and didn¡¯t drag back here by the fucking hair.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, Sachiko, sorry, no. Not since the stream.¡¯

    ¡®What¡¯s with the action face then?¡¯

    Miho frowned at the description, turning to try and spot his reflection in the pan nearby. Then gave up and just assumed she meant he looked purposeful. ¡®I¡¯ve just been up to see Akira¡­my travelling friend¡­or not really my friend, just the guy I helped. Though maybe he would call me a friend now as I did save him from that purple-¡­from that difficult situation back in the clearing. Wah, that seems like weeks ago now. Time really glides when you have to work every day.¡¯

    ¡®The point, Miho. Find it.¡¯

    Chef Amo laughed in the background, almost chopping his own finger off by accident.

    ¡®The point, right. Sorry. I¡¯m just-¡­I mean, I was just up there, in our room, and¡­he seems really sick.¡¯ Miho paused, giving an irritated look towards Chef Amo, who was still laughing. ¡®Really sick, like, his head is still volcano hot, and he was rambling some nonsense about green fireflies protecting him. Then he passed out again.¡¯

    ¡®Sounds like a typical ashigaru drunk,¡¯ said Chef Amo, resuming his chopping.

    Miho shifted left, putting his back to the heckler, and his face towards the real boss. ¡®I don¡¯t know, I think the drink we¡¯re giving him might not be working.¡¯

    ¡®No need for alarm,¡¯ answered Himiko, scratching the side of her neck. ¡®The medicine takes a few days, I told you that.¡¯

    ¡®But he¡¯s getting worse, his head-¡­¡¯

    ¡®Perhaps even a week. Miho, calm down, deep breaths. Focus on your duties and I¡¯ll focus on helping your pet ashigaru.¡¯

    ¡®By giving him more of that drink?¡¯

    ¡®Yes.¡¯

    Miho looked around the kitchen, at all the vegetables and herbs laid out for dinner. ¡®Do you have any other medicine you can give him?¡¯

    ¡®This isn¡¯t a clinic. I have the same stuff my parents gave me when I was a child and I¡¯m not dead. Therefore, he can take it too.¡¯

    ¡®Did you hallucinate after you took it?¡¯

    Himiko put her fingers on the green necklace and slowly flipped it over onto the reverse side. ¡®No.¡¯

    ¡®Akira is. Those green fireflies watching him. Says he can see them.¡¯

    ¡®Green?¡¯ asked Aya, half turning from the bowl of mountain asparagus she was peeling.

    ¡®That¡¯s what he said.¡¯

    ¡®He¡¯s fine, stop being so dramatic.¡¯ Himiko left her necklace and started scratching its colour twin, the green tattoo etched on the upper slope of her breast. ¡®The night is always darkest just before sunset.¡¯

    ¡®Sunset?¡¯

    ¡®Sunrise. Which means he¡¯s just expelling the sickness from his system and he¡¯ll be up and swinging his katana brainlessly at my staff before you know it.¡¯

    ¡®Or drunkenly falling in the river outside,¡¯ muttered Chef Amo, his words nowhere near quiet enough to be undetected.

    Miho waved the mountain asparagus he¡¯d just picked up vaguely in the air around him, missing Aya¡¯s cheek by an inch. ¡®Hey, he¡¯s injured, leave him alone.¡¯

    ¡®Just saying facts. And don¡¯t you dare yell hey at me in my own kitchen.¡¯ Chef Amo caught Himiko¡¯s raised eyebrow and edited. ¡®Her kitchen. Technically. But my domain right now. And that means I¡¯m your boss and you will show some fucking respect.¡¯

    Miho half opened his mouth to say hey again, but he could see Aya shaking her head at him out of the corner of his eye so he bit his tongue, and then bit it again when his brain tried to force him to say sorry.

    ¡®Silence, good. Now stop playing the worried nurse and start boiling those fuki.¡¯

    Miho looked at Himiko for confirmation, but she was zoned out, fingers still tracing the outline of her tattoo. Apparently, she didn¡¯t mind if others saw the top of her chest in the kitchen. Which was quite similar to Yuki, now that he thought about it. She had often walked about the village with her yukata loosely tied, making the men drop things in front of her and hope she¡¯d bend down to pick them up.

    ¡®What are you waiting for boy? Dinner¡¯s in thirty minutes.¡¯

    ¡®Huh?¡¯

    ¡®The fuki¡­boil them.¡¯

    Miho looked out half-dazed at the empty dining room, shrugged and moved next to Aya, who was still wrestling with the mountain asparagus. The fuki was in the basket, so he grabbed some and put them on the surface, then reached for the jar of salt.

    ¡®What are you doing?¡¯ whispered Aya, glowering at Miho¡¯s outstretched hand.

    ¡®Salting them,¡¯ he replied.

    ¡®That¡¯s not the way Chef Amo does it.¡¯

    ¡®How does he do it?¡¯

    ¡®Boils them.¡¯

    ¡®Without salting?¡¯

    ¡®Yes.¡¯

    ¡®But¡­what about the bitterness?¡¯

    ¡®Irrelevant.¡¯

    ¡®But-¡­¡¯

    ¡®Just do it his way, it¡¯s safer.¡¯

    Miho looked at the fuki, looked at Chef chopping up the chicken with an amateur¡¯s technique, looked at Aya pulling the jar of salt away from him, and thought, okay, whatever. Boiled fuki. No salt.

    As he began chopping, Himiko came out of her trance and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. ¡®I have a compromise. If your ashigaru friend is still feverish tomorrow, I¡¯ll let you move to Room 28.¡¯

    ¡®The one with the weird light?¡¯

    ¡®Weird? It¡¯s our premium cabin. What are you talking about?¡¯

    ¡®Sorry, but¡­there was a green glow in the windows last night. I wasn¡¯t saying it was a bad cabin.¡¯

    Himiko looked past Miho, into the bare nothingness of the wall. ¡®Ah, the green glow. Yes. That comes from the luminous rock, found on the slopes of Mount Kinpu. It¡¯s quite therapeutic¡­according to certain monks¡­in certain shrines.¡¯

    ¡®It is?¡¯

    ¡®Yes, now that I think of it, your friend should be moved there tomorrow. It will really help with his recovery, I¡¯m certain of it.¡¯

    Himiko patted him on the shoulder, pulled her necklace straight and then strolled out into the dining area. The sole guest must¡¯ve been out there too, as she started giving the traditional greeting spiel.

    Miho listened to the faint sounds, then returned to the basket of fuki.

    Luminous rock from Mount Kinpu.

    He¡¯d never heard of that, but he was just a simple village boy¡­or simple village man now¡­and there were thousands of things he didn¡¯t know. Aya, on the other hand¡­

    Turning to the side, he waited for her to finish peeling the final asparagus then asked if she knew anything about this luminous rock.

    ¡®No,¡¯ she replied curtly, then picked up the green asparagus layers and hurried over to the boiling station.

    Miho stared at the asparagus left behind, until Aya rushed back and carried them away too, waiting a minute before returning a second time and dropping the peeled layers in to the waste bin.

    Maybe later then, he thought, casting a forlorn look at the salt jar.

 Chapter 12: Trouble In A Green Yukata

    ~~~

    The brown-freckled hare sniffed the mound of dirt several times before concluding that, once again, she had stopped at the wrong place.

    Too minty, not crumbled enough.

    And a slight gravelly texture¡­

    She lifted her head and re-scanned the area.

    Lines of tree trunks that all looked the same, surrounding by grass and dirt with no distinguishing features.

    Gods with paws, why had she come this far out again?

    Just to avoid Blacknose and his nonsensical territorial claims, not to mention his weird sexual advances? Probably. It was annoying. Pretending to be stuck in that hole. Trying to get close and lick her paws at 3<sup>rd</sup> Junction, Level Five. Didn¡¯t he know she was dating Glad Eyes?

    Scurrying forward, she sniffed another patch of dirt, then moved left towards the stream. If she followed that down far enough then there was a chance she would be able to make it back in time for-

    Her thoughts ended instantly as a spear descended out of the sky and pierced the top of her head.

    Atta Noe watched through Sachiko¡¯s eyes as the blood flowed out from beneath the hare¡¯s chin then, grunting in semi-satisfaction, pulled the sharpened twig back out.

    ¡®Not ideal,¡¯ she said, using her native tongue instead of Japanese, ¡®but it should suffice.¡¯

    Pushing herself back up into a standing position, she rotated her neck in slow circles and stretched out her right leg, determined not to fall victim to cramp again.

    Human bodies are so ridiculous, she thought, finishing her mini-exercises and walking with tentative steps away from the stream.

    Capable of perishing from a single mosquito bite, yet also getting stabbed a dozen times and, somehow, surviving.

    That was another thing.

    From the assailant¡¯s perspective, how could you stab someone a dozen times and not kill them? The odds of not hitting a single vital organ were astronomical. Though the best way to ensure that never happened was to do what she did. Slice them into pieces and eat the tasty parts.

    She looked down at the body she was trapped in, at the wound peeking out from under the idiot boy¡¯s d¨­buku.

    Or perform a perfectly executed, clinical kill, on a moving target.

    The other girl popped into her head, leaning down to help a play-acting demon in distress. The look of complete bafflement as she realised she¡¯d been stabbed. Followed by blankness as the life drained out of her.

    ¡®Naive fools,¡¯ Atta Noe said, fierce, gripping the twig tight. ¡®I did you both a favour. Wouldn¡¯t have lasted a day under Shingen¡¯s rule.¡¯

    The picture of the more sympathetic girl¡¯s vacant face morphed into the dopey, overly-sincere stare of the boy as he¡¯d handed her his d¨­buku.

    ¡®And you¡­irritating man-child¡­¡¯

    There was a shout in the distance. A male human¡¯s voice.

    She looked ahead and saw a large, round figure jogging across a short wooden bridge, then stopping at the end and leaning like a drunk on the railings.

    ¡®Who¡¯s this fat fool?¡¯ she whispered, hiding the twig behind her back as the man caught a second wind and jogged over to her. As he got closer, she could see he was wearing the uniform of a chef. And his physique was even larger than she¡¯d thought, possibly big enough to pose a real threat.

    ¡®Sachi-bag,¡¯ he said, reaching her and immediately grabbing her hand. ¡®You crazy, mad, sexy fucking fool.¡¯

    ¡®What did you call me?¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯re in some serious shit though. Himiko¡¯s been folding her arms all afternoon, and you know what that means?¡¯

    ¡®Ah, you work there too¡­¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­no, I just hang out in a kitchen. Unpaid. Shouting at Aya and the new kid. What¡¯s got into you?¡¯

    Sachiko shrugged off Chef Amo¡¯s hand and looked towards the bridge. ¡®Take me to the ryokan.¡¯

    ¡®Wah, easy, you can¡¯t go there yet. Gotta come up with a cover story first.¡¯

    ¡®Cover what?¡¯

    ¡®Your ass, of course. She¡¯ll fire you if we don¡¯t come up with something good.¡¯

    ¡®I do not care about work or ass. The ashigaru and the boy are my only priority. Where are they now? Inside?¡¯

    ¡®Who?¡¯

    ¡®The boy who picked vegetables with me.¡¯

    ¡®What, that little runt, Miho? What do you wanna know about him for?¡¯ Chef Amo stepped back and tilted his head, noticing the d¨­buku she was wearing. ¡®Did you two do something together?¡¯

    ¡®Not yet.¡¯

    ¡®Why do you have his d¨­buku on?¡¯

    ¡®This body felt cold. Yet I feel spritely again now. Lead me to the boy and I may overlook your annoying behaviour.¡¯

    ¡®How about we focus on placating Himiko first?¡¯

    ¡®She is irrelevant.¡¯

    ¡®Kuso¡­you really have lost it, haven¡¯t you? Okay, doesn¡¯t matter, Amo-kun will do the thinking for both of us.¡¯ He took her hand again, this time too firmly for her to shake him off. ¡®But first, I need a little encouragement. A bit of warming up.¡¯This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Before she could robotically command him to take her to the ryokan again, he was pulling her backwards into the forest. She tried to wriggle out of his grip, but in her current body, it was impossible. He was physically too large, and even worse, sexually aroused.

    Pinning her up against a tree, Chef Amo checked back once to see if any predators or bandits were watching, then proceeded to fondle and grope various parts of her body, muttering, ¡®baby, I missed you,¡¯ alongside ragged breathing noises.

    It was an odd experience, and a time-consuming one, so, as the fat human was busy licking her neck, Atta Noe gripped him by the hair, pulled the sharpened twig out from her skirt and stabbed him four times in the throat.

    His eyes doubled in size, and the hand that was still on her left breast spasmed, flicking the host body¡¯s nipple and giving her an annoying ticklish sensation.

    She was so annoyed that she stabbed him again.

    This time it was more final.

    His hand released her breast, blood flowed out from his neck and, after a few more death spasms, his body dropped onto a mound of dirt with such a loud thud that the hare family having dinner in its burrow below all looked up and said [in hare language], ¡®shut the fuck up, human shit.¡¯

    Adjusting her yukata, and putting the boy¡¯s d¨­buku back on over it, Atta Noe glanced over at the bridge again and started walking. She managed three steps before her limbs started to ache, and another five after that before her lower back gave up.

    Gods, this body¡­

    Impossible.

    Returning to the large, almost-dead figure on the ground, she bent down, jammed a finger into the largest of the throat wounds and wriggled it around until the big oaf stopped breathing. Then, with both eyes closed, she made the transfer.

    Purple mist leaked out from Sachiko and funnelled itself into the ears, eye sockets and mouth of the dead man.

    Opening his eyes, Chef Amo instantly understood everything. He patted his arms and chest, then used the corpse of Sachiko, his ex-lover, as leverage to pull himself up onto his feet.

    ¡®Won¡¯t miss you,¡¯ he said, giving her a kick to the waist, then started off towards the bridge. In a sign of comradeship, patches of faint grey mist rolled down from the mountain slopes, along with a trail of hares sneaking around in the nearby bushes. Possibly relatives of the one she¡¯d killed ten minutes earlier.

    Ah, let them follow, Chef Amo thought, dipping a finger in one of her new vessel¡¯s throat holes and licking blood of the nail. I have a bigger list to deal with.

    The idiot boy, the annoying girl, the ashigaru, the bossy tyrant named Himiko. Possibly some guests as well, though they would most likely be in their rooms at this hour.

    Ah, irrelevant. If they were there, either ignore or kill. With this larger body, it shouldn¡¯t be much of a hassle.

    The ashigaru, on the other hand¡­assuming he was back to a relative degree of health¡­and had close access to his katana¡­that would require some strategy. The syk anvaa ek gambit perhaps?

    Chef Amo walked onto the wooden boards of the bridge, running the palm of his hand along the railings until it was stopped by a splinter.

    Gods, another way to get hurt, he thought, swatting away mist to find the offending piece of tiny wood.

    ¡®What are you doing here?¡¯ droned a voice, seemingly from within the air itself.

    Chef Amo looked up, reaching back for the twig then realising he¡¯d left it with the girl¡¯s corpse. Ah, not a huge mistake. The man ahead wasn¡¯t too imposing. Tall, yes, in good shape, yes, but the way he was standing there on the bridge seemed far too limp to qualify as an actual threat. And his outfit¡­

    ¡®This is my territory,¡¯ said the man in the green yukata, placing a hand on both sides of the bridge railings. ¡®Leave.¡¯

    ¡®What are you talking about?¡¯

    ¡®Turn around. Walk. Do not try to circle back.¡¯

    ¡®I work here, idiot,¡¯ tried the purple demon, but it was a half-hearted attempt and, judging by the flinch of the man blocking the way, a misplaced use of idiot.

    ¡®You are not the chef.¡¯

    ¡®Are you blind? Look at my uniform.¡¯

    ¡®It is stained with blood.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah¡­I fell over¡­onto a sharp rock. All this mist floating around¡­makes it very hard to see where you¡¯re going.¡¯

    ¡®There are several holes in your throat.¡¯

    ¡®What?¡¯

    ¡®Leaking.¡¯

    Chef Amo put a finger on each of the wounds that he¡¯d completely forgotten about, even though he¡¯d just been dipping into one of them a minute earlier, and, with the emerging sound of air leaking out, tried to come up with some quick excuses. It¡¯s not as deep as it looks was the only one that had any kind of weight to it, so he opened his mouth and¡­said fuck in his native language as an extra reservoir of blood spurted out.

    ¡®Go home.¡¯

    The tone of the man¡¯s voice was so patronising that Chef Amo couldn¡¯t help but flash both pupils purple.

    ¡®Ah, it¡¯s one of you,¡¯ said the man in the green yukata.

    ¡®Recognition. Good. This whole fa?ade was starting to grate...¡¯

    ¡®Out for a late night drift?¡¯

    ¡®Now for the obedience. There are two humans I need. An idiot boy and an injured ashigaru. Let me take them and I will not harm you.¡¯

    The man took his hands off the side of the railings and advanced, showing no sign of fear or apprehension, even when he got to within a metre of his demon counterpart. The mist too, appeared to bow to him, swirling left, right, up, diagonal, desperate not to get in his way.

    ¡®I will not ask twice,¡¯ said Chef Amo, holding his ground.

    ¡®You appear to be without your box. Is it lost?¡¯

    ¡®The boy and the ashigaru. Now.¡¯

    ¡®Hmm. Typical Atashhka¡­always leading with your rage.¡¯

    Purple mist seeped out of Chef Amo¡¯s nose, and drifted impotently as his right hand formed into an awkward fist.

    ¡®I wouldn¡¯t let out too much of that if I were you.¡¯

    In solidarity, the left hand tightened too.

    ¡®Not on my territory.¡¯

    Chef Amo picked a part of the man¡¯s face he¡¯d like to rip apart and consigned it to memory. Then loosened up his hands. ¡®Your territory. This? A shack in the mountains? Even for your kind, it¡¯s pathetic. Unless¡­ah, that¡¯s what you are, isn¡¯t it? One of those weird types who lives off grid, directionless, too scared to step out the door. Sucking up tourists and drunks. No ambition. No drive. Ha, I bet even a bird chirping makes you cower back into whatever squalid little cave you¡¯re lurking in¡­¡¯

    ¡®Is that why you¡¯re here, in that leaking body? Ambition?¡¯

    More purple flashes, an instinctive reaction that couldn¡¯t be stopped, but at least this time Chef Amo managed to rein it in a bit. He stared beyond the man in the green yukata - the small-time demon, probably illegal, feeding off a drip of fringe humans - past the end of the bridge, past a second, smaller bridge and focused on the ryokan.

    It was only another two hundred metres at most.

    Yet utterly unreachable.

    For the moment.

    ¡®I think we¡¯ve indulged each other enough for one night,¡¯ the man in the green yukata said, re-drawing Chef Amo¡¯s attention. ¡®The path back to K¨­fu is behind you.¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯re right, this is becoming pointless.¡¯

    ¡®And please, don¡¯t try to sneak back another way. It would not go well for you in your current state.¡¯

    ¡®No doubt.¡¯ Chef Amo blew dried-up breath into the grey mist, watching it drift back instead of lash out. ¡®Very well. I accede to your claim.¡¯

    ¡®A smart choice.¡¯

    ¡®On one condition.¡¯

    The man stiffened, the hair around his head emanating a faint shade of green.

    ¡®You make each of them suffer. The ashigaru and the boy, when you make your move.¡¯

    ¡®That¡­is expected.¡¯

    ¡®No quick kills, no medicinal aids. I want them to feel as much of their end as possible, to truly understand what it is that is happening to them.¡¯

    ¡®Torture¡­¡¯

    ¡®Can you promise that?¡¯

    The man in the green yukata rotated his head round in one, lethargic loop, the green outline slashing out erratic green whisps.

    ¡®Does that mean yes?¡¯

    ¡®Yes. We have an agreement.¡¯

    ¡®Then I leave them in your¡­hopefully¡­capable hands.¡¯

    Chef Amo took one final look at the ryokan in the agonisingly near distance then turned and walked off the bridge, his pupils finally losing the handbrake and igniting in a fiery purple glare.

    Dead.

    All of you.

    Your ramshackle little ryokan, the courtyard, the trees, everything.

    It was wild fantasy, of course, but as soon as he made it back to K¨­fu and the compound, and out of this leaking body, it would become a lot more realistic.

    Though the boy and the ashigaru were probably off the table.

    Unless¡­

    No.

    Would the Gos Ussu really wait that long? A whole day?

    If he believed what he¡¯d just heard¡­if the performance had been convincing enough¡­

    Maybe.

    Chef Amo waited for the path to curve right, checked back to confirm that the bridge was almost out of sight, then quickened his pace.

    Watching the large [and still bleeding] figure blend into the distant mist, the man in the green yukata stretched out arms on each side, curling up his hands like encroaching spiders around the railings.

    One word cruised laps around the inside of his demon head, blinking in huge neon-lilac capitals.

    Trouble.

 Chapter 13: Anything For The Demon Sociopath

    ~~~

    The castle ledge was uneven stone and impossibly high

    ramparts on one side

    infinite drop on the other

    yet Yuki didn¡¯t care

    didn¡¯t seem to have any problem at all, gliding casually in unmeasured steps, arms at odd angles

    whereas Miho

    could only look at her back

    didn¡¯t dare look down, or even a little bit down

    and each time the hurricane level wind blew in from the side

    he thought, this is it

    this is the moment I plummet onto jagged rocks fifty-thousand feet down and to the left

    and his dad didn¡¯t help

    blue-skinned and jacketless behind him

    whispering into his neck

    ¡®we should build a bigger house, with bigger bedrooms, let Yuki spread out a bit.¡¯

    ¡®She¡¯s happy as it is,¡¯ I answered, but he insisted

    ¡®no, she¡¯ll leave if you don¡¯t build it, leave without looking back, just like she is now,¡¯

    and when Miho looked again at Yuki¡¯s back

    his father was right, she was gone

    off the ledge and down

    making a whistling noise like the wind as she fell.

    ¡®Told ya,¡¯ said his dad

    wrapping a cracked, blue-skinned arm around his neck

    ¡®told ya told ya told ya told ya¡­¡¯

    ~~~

    The wasp did a quick 180 and buzzed through the gap in the door panel as Miho¡¯s arm shot up into the air, grasping at nothing.

    ¡®Get your stupid dry blue arm off me,¡¯ he slurred, quite loud, but not at the required volume to wake Akira on the futon next to him.

    A breeze blew in from the balcony, bringing with it a Yuki-less reality.

    Miho sat up and looked around the barely lit room.

    She¡¯s not falling, he thought, stretching his arms diagonally both ways. And I¡¯m not standing on a cliff edge. Thank gods. Though I¡¯ll have to go down to the kitchen at some point. Maybe quite soon, in fact¡­

    Before Miho could reach the balcony panel and gauge the time, there was a knock at the door.

    On the nearby futon, Akira opened his mouth and noisily sucked in dry air.

    ¡®Miho¡­¡¯ came Aya¡¯s voice from behind the door.

    ¡®Putting my uniform on.¡¯

    ¡®Quickly. You¡¯re wanted in the kitchen.¡¯

    ¡®Okay, coming,¡¯ he said, pulling himself up and trying to figure out where the entry point of his yukata was.

    ¡®For cooking duty,¡¯ she added, hitting the door panel again.

    ¡®Sorry?¡¯

    ¡®Just get out here. Himiko will explain it to you.¡¯

    Miho gave out another okay and finished getting dressed. ¡®Forty-eight more days of this,¡¯ he muttered as he flattened his hair into what he hoped was a semi-respectable appearance.

    On the futon sickbed, Akira hoovered in more dry air, and then let out a hacking cough.

    Filling up a new cup with water from the wooden bucket, Miho drank some himself then bent down and poured the rest slowly into Akira¡¯s mouth.

    Bad idea.

    The patient coughed it back up instantly and lashed out with his left hand, clipping Miho on the cheek.

    ¡®You want the medicine again?¡¯ Miho asked, frowning at the empty cup. ¡®Cos I don¡¯t think that¡¯s such a good idea.¡¯

    ¡®Water¡­¡¯ said Akira, wiping his mouth.

    Ignoring another knock on the door panel, Miho refilled the cup and this time told Akira that the water was right there, next to his lips.

    ¡®Water¡­¡¯ the patient repeated, taking the cup with his eyes closed and gulping it down in less than a second. ¡®More.¡¯

    ¡®How about I just bring the bucket over?¡¯

    ¡®Water.¡¯

    ¡®Okay then. Let¡¯s try that.¡¯

    He went back over to the bucket and gripped the handle, shouting, ¡®relax, I¡¯m coming,¡¯ again at the seven hundredth knock on the door frame.

    ¡®Doesn¡¯t feel like it,¡¯ replied Aya, pulling the panel open an inch so her voice wasn¡¯t so muffled.

    ¡®Ten seconds.¡¯

    ¡®What?¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯ll be out in ten seconds.¡¯

    ¡®Sure.¡¯

    Miho placed the water bucket next to Akira¡¯s futon, then shifted it back a few inches to avoid any accidental arm swipes.

    ¡®Drink as much as you need. I¡¯ll be back in a few hours with breakfast.¡¯

    ¡®Water,¡¯ murmured Akira.

    Miho nodded, tapping the side of the bucket, then shouted, ¡®ten more seconds,¡¯ when the inevitable knock on the door returned.

    ~~~Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡®Me?¡¯

    ¡®Unless Chef Amo magically appears in the next five minutes then yes, you.¡¯

    Miho looked at Himiko¡¯s face, waiting for the wink or giveaway twitch. ¡®But¡­I don¡¯t understand.¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s quite simple. Chef Amo is not here. Aya can¡¯t cook. Sachiko has either deserted us completely or is still messing about by the stream.¡¯

    ¡®Or run off with Chef Amo,¡¯ added Aya, stirring what was apparently soup, but looked more like flavoured water with green bits on top.

    ¡®Yes, that is also a possibility. Though I¡¯m not sure why they couldn¡¯t just carry on their little trysts here at the ryokan. And get paid for it.¡¯ Himiko scratched her green tattoo, looking at each work station in the kitchen as if it were a physical enemy. ¡®Gods, I hope you can actually cook Miho. Otherwise, I¡¯m gonna have to make an attempt at it myself.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m not a trained chef¡­but I know a little. I think.¡¯

    ¡®Well, we¡¯ve got one guest, so as long as you don¡¯t poison him then we should be safe. I¡¯ll head into Nirasaki first thing tomorrow and find a replacement.¡¯

    ¡®You really think Chef Amo¡¯s gone for good?¡¯ asked Aya, sprinkling some diced ginger into the pot.

    ¡®He better be,¡¯ replied Himiko, her back already turned as she headed into the dining area.

    Miho walked after her a few steps, his brain telling him to ask what the breakfast menu was, but then stopped and reassessed, deciding that it would probably be safer to ask Aya instead.

    ¡®Nothing complex,¡¯ she told him, stirring the soup in the pot. ¡®Mostly because we don¡¯t have that many ingredients.¡¯

    ¡®I can use the leftover vegetables from yesterday to make a soup.¡¯

    ¡®To go with this?¡¯ She gestured at the pot with an exaggerated flourish, shaking her head. ¡®Just focus on the pan. There¡¯s salmon in the ice outside.¡¯

    ¡®Ice?¡¯

    ¡®The box at the end of the courtyard, it¡¯s got ice in it, and salmon.¡¯

    ¡®A box of ice? But how would she-¡­¡¯

    ¡®¡­keep it so cold? I have no idea. But she does, and that¡¯s where the salmon is.¡¯

    ¡®Wah, an ice box¡­frozen salmon¡­okay, I can probably do something with that later. If it¡¯s real. But first I¡¯m gonna have to deal with your soup there. No offence.¡¯

    ¡®You know how to season it?¡¯

    ¡®In the same style as Chef Amo? No. But I can try my way. Might not be perfect, but I¡¯m fairly certain it won¡¯t poison the guest.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯ll do the rice then,¡¯ Aya said, giving up on the pot and bending down to the giant rice jar under the chopping bench. ¡®Take a bit of the pressure off.¡¯

    Miho clasped his hands together and scanned the kitchen, taking slow, subtly disguised anxiety breaths. Then grabbed some fuki and asparagus from the basket and placed them down on the chopping board.

    ¡®You really know what you¡¯re doing?¡¯ Aya asked, watching him pick up the knife.

    He responded by cutting the whole clump of asparagus into thirds, then chopping them so fast that the knife itself was a blur.

    ¡®Right,¡¯ said Aya, stopping just short of a whistling sound. ¡®I¡¯ll do the rice then.¡¯

    ~~~

    To say that Chef Amo was missed was an overstatement.

    Not only did the sole remaining guest in the ryokan not get poisoned by Miho¡¯s breakfast menu, but he enjoyed it so much that he wandered into the kitchen three times to ask for more of the zesty forest soup thing.

    ¡®It¡¯s a special recipe,¡¯ said Miho afterwards, towel wrapped around his forehead like a headscarf, half of it drenched in sweat [which he claimed was just the steam from pan-frying the salmon].

    ¡®Not the regular miso then,¡¯ replied Himiko, picking up another piece of salmon from her own plate and shoving it in her mouth.

    ¡®My mother taught me. And then made me cook it every morning. Said it was payback for all the cooking I wouldn¡¯t have to do when I got married.¡¯

    ¡®Smart woman,¡¯ said Himiko, still chewing.

    ¡®Actually, it¡¯s more like practice. Yuki doesn¡¯t know how to cook, and she never showed much interest in learning so¡­I suppose it¡¯ll all be on me at some point.¡¯

    ¡®Yuki is your girlfriend?¡¯

    ¡®Wandering girlfriend,¡¯ muttered Aya, dunking one of the dirty bowls into the washing bucket.

    ¡®Yes. I¡¯m looking for her now. Or I was looking for her.¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t pull that sad fox face, young man,¡¯ said Himiko, hitting him with her chopsticks¡­then frowning and washing them in Aya¡¯s cup of water. ¡®Fifty-eight more days and you can go off and find this great beauty. Then persuade her to come back here so I can hire you as our new chef.¡¯

    ¡®Seriously?¡¯ asked Aya, almost dropping the soaking wet bowl.

    ¡®Why not? Chef Amo¡¯s food never had any guests coming into the kitchen for more helpings. Miho¡¯s a definite upgrade. A fortuitous accident.¡¯

    ¡®Forty-eight more days,¡¯ Miho said, his voice a little low.

    ¡®What¡¯s that?¡¯

    ¡®I have forty-eight more days left to work here.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, what did I say?¡¯

    ¡®Fifty-eight.¡¯

    ¡®Sorry, slip of the tongue.¡¯ Himiko smiled unconvincingly and picked up the final piece of salmon, holding it up high so she could see the char lines underneath. ¡®Really impressive frying on this¡­¡¯

    ¡®He¡¯s going to be cooking for the next forty-eight days?¡¯ cut in Aya, squeezing the dish cloth tight in her hands.

    ¡®Well it¡¯s not going to be me or you.¡¯ Himiko laughed, accidentally dropping the salmon onto the floor, then kicking it under the chopping station table.

    As her laughter died out, the necklace started to glow a faint green. She turned to the dining area hatch, stabbing her chopsticks into a chunk of salmon when she spotted the man in the green yukata watching her, his expression as impassive as a bored shark.

    ¡®I need to talk to you,¡¯ he whispered, not loud enough for anyone else to hear.

    Himiko nodded, saying good job again to her two wonder staff, then left the impaled salmon and walked with slight hesitation out into the dining area.

    Turning back to the washing station, Aya resumed her duties, muttering something that Miho couldn¡¯t quite catch. Curious, he moved beside her and asked what exactly that guy¡¯s role was at the ryokan.

    ¡®Don¡¯t ask, don¡¯t wonder,¡¯ she replied, sharply.

    ¡®I¡¯ve seen him a few times. He just seems to wander around aimlessly. Is he Himiko¡¯s husband?¡¯

    ¡®Miho¡­¡¯

    ¡®Sorry, I¡¯m just used to knowing what¡¯s going on. Village habit, I guess.¡¯

    ¡®Just focus on your work.¡¯

    Miho nodded, watching Aya scrub a tough bit of rice off the edge of a bowl. ¡®Do you need a hand?¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m almost done.¡¯

    ¡®Did you like my breakfast?¡¯

    ¡®Yes. It was great.¡¯

    ¡®Really? Which part was the best?¡¯

    Aya finished the bowl and let out a dramatic breath. ¡®I was being polite. To be honest, it was pretty bland. Food where I come from is¡­different.¡¯

    ¡®Where do you come from?¡¯

    ¡®Me?¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­yeah. Is it nearby? Kai Province?¡¯

    ¡®Kyushu.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, the south¡­¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t ask which town, you won¡¯t know it.¡¯

    ¡®Kumamoto?¡¯

    ¡®Wah¡­kuso.¡¯

    She washed another bowl quickly then threw the cloth down and headed to the door.

    ¡®You don¡¯t have blue chicken by any chance?¡¯ tried Miho, getting a pitying shake of the head in return.

    ~~~

    Outside the ryokan, under a much greyer sky than the day before, Himiko sat down on the wooden box stamped with HAPPY CHICKEN GRAIN and stared at the ground.

    ¡®It is unavoidable,¡¯ said the man in the green yukata, standing in an oddly upright posture that made him look like an action figure who¡¯d been placed there by a child god.

    ¡®Are you certain?¡¯

    ¡®There will be visitors and I need to be at full strength.¡¯

    Himiko glanced over at the front entrance to the ryokan and then up at the rooms above. The sole guest had gone out for a hike, and the ashigaru would be zonked out from the medicine, so it was safe enough. Still, she didn¡¯t like what she was hearing.

    ¡®I can give you the ashigaru, that¡¯s already been set up¡­but the others.¡¯

    ¡®It is not for discussion.¡¯

    Himiko clenched her fist, looking up with the same ferocity she used to have in her younger days¡­then wiping it completely as she looked into the eyes of a demon sociopath.

    Her demon sociopath.

    ¡®The boy is a good worker, and an excellent chef. It¡¯s a big waste to get rid of him. How about the ashigaru and the guest? Or I can go out this afternoon, pick up a stranger in Nirasaki¡­¡¯

    ¡®I require the ashigaru, the boy and the guest. The girl will be placed on standby, in case my strength is insufficient.¡¯

    ¡®Aya? But she¡¯s-¡­¡¯

    ¡®Follow what I say. No counter-points.¡¯

    Himiko looked down at the ground again, turning the necklace round in her fingers. A stream of ants marched over and around the man¡¯s feet, without any kind of fear. Without any kind of awe. Then kept going, aiming roughly for the slope next to the end cabin.

    ¡®I won¡¯t give you Aya,¡¯ she said, finally, gripping the necklace tight.

    The man in the green yukata didn¡¯t respond for almost a minute. Didn¡¯t make any breathing sounds. Didn¡¯t move his hands or adjust his standing position.

    The wind was the only active force, and it was cold, forcing her to tighten the d¨­buku around her shoulders.

    ¡®If you do not do this, I will perish,¡¯ the man said, his voice without feeling.

    Himiko turned the grip on the necklace into a massage, trying to remember all the annoying things Aya had done, all the clumsy accidents.

    ¡®The ryokan¡­our home¡­won¡¯t have any staff left,¡¯ she mumbled, eyes on the faraway ants.

    ¡®We will re-hire. Or move location.¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s that serious?¡¯

    The man in the green yukata bent down and took Himiko¡¯s hand, making no attempt to separate it from the necklace.

    ¡®Atashhka are notorious for their pettiness,¡¯ he said, using his other hand to stroke the side of her hair. ¡®And this one seemed especially petty. If she brings a large enough force, and her box, she could end both of us.¡¯

    ¡®You can¡¯t fight her?¡¯

    ¡®Not with my current strength.¡¯

    Himiko closed her eyes, blacking out the ryokan and the courtyard and the ants which were out of sight anyway. In their place, she pictured Aya. Obscured by shadow, without expression. Neither willing or unwilling to do anything. Like one of the replica chicken statues she¡¯d made to quell courtyard dissent¡­when the knife came¡­

    She opened up to the ryokan again, kicking a curious chicken away from her feet.

    ¡®I will bring them to you tonight.¡¯

    ¡®And the spare on standby¡­¡¯

    ¡®Yes.¡¯

    ¡®Good girl,¡¯ the man in the green yukata replied, taking his hands away and walking off without another word, light flakes of snow starting to fall on the courtyard around him.

 Chapter 14: A Reanimated Corpse In The Court Of Shingen

    ~~~

    ¡®That belt looks a bit simple, how about a new one?¡¯

    ¡®Mystical rocks, blessed by ancient monks, two for four mon.¡¯

    ¡®Haircut?¡¯

    ¡®Bit flabby around the waist there. What you need is a personal trainer. Mentored at the most prestigious shugendo training centre in this here Kai Province.¡¯

    ¡®Magical rocks, bargain price, can make any woman your slave.¡¯

    Pushing her way through the mass of schemers and scam artists, Atta Noe, who was still costumed in the increasingly pale skin of Chef Amo, focused on the gate just ahead.

    Shingen¡¯s compound. The prettiest place in all of K¨­fu. In all of Kai Province too, if you ignored all the mountain scenery.

    ¡®Come on, big man,¡¯ tried the rock seller again, following behind, ¡®three magical rocks, one whole year of nightly sexual conquests, guaranteed.¡¯

    ¡®Go away, cockroach.¡¯

    ¡®Cheap as it gets, no hidden pockets.¡¯

    Her hand flinched as the scam artist touched it, trying to pull her back¡­or pull Chef Amo back¡­but her vessel¡¯s large size made it easy to shrug him off.

    Compound gate. Compound gate. Compound gate¡­

    Of course, the urge to murder every human that spoke to her, offered her ridiculous things, tutted audibly when she refused was incredibly strong, but that would be a distraction and she couldn¡¯t afford any more of those.

    Not on this level of energy.

    She stopped by a stall selling bamboo shoots and slowed down her vessel¡¯s already laboured breaths.

    Part of her regretted not taking a detour to her box, recharging for a couple of hours. That would¡¯ve made her less likely to collapse on the street, which she felt was pretty close to happening already.

    Gods, it¡¯d been a long walk.

    Almost forty kilometres. Twenty if she hadn¡¯t been in the mood for extreme hyperbole. In smoke form, she could¡¯ve made it in less than half an hour. In this lump of a body, running on fumes of reserve power, it had taken all night and half the morning.

    ¡®Bamboo shoot?¡¯ asked the elderly stall woman, holding out a sample in her hand.

    Chef Amo glared at her, then softened a little when he saw the bamboo shoots being offered were actually quite good quality.

    ¡®I may come back later,¡¯ he said, nodding at the stall woman, who responded by putting the shoots in her hand safely to the side.

    Shouts came from further down the street.

    The guards at the gate to the path that would lead him back into the haven of Shingen¡¯s residential complex were doing what guards liked to do; abuse commoners. Which in this case meant kicking a drunk who¡¯d wandered too close.

    He was fairly certain that was the reason as they were shouting while kicking, ¡®don¡¯t wander so close.¡¯

    Pushing his decaying wreck of a body away from the stall, Chef Amo swatted away another magical rock seller, straightened up to almost full height and presented himself in front of the guards, who were now ordering bystanders to take away the guy they¡¯d just kicked into a coma.

    ¡®What do you want?¡¯ barked the fatter of the two.

    ¡®I¡¯m here to see Shingen. Let me through.¡¯

    ¡®Another drunk, huh?¡¯ The slimmer guard stepped up to Chef Amo and breathed morning swamp right into his face. ¡®Did you not see what just happened?¡¯

    ¡®Shingen. Call him. Now.¡¯

    ¡®Wah, look at this one. Too special to bother with full sentences.¡¯

    ¡®Thinks he¡¯s better than us,¡¯ added the fatter one.

    ¡®Maybe we should give him a lesson in etikut.¡¯

    Chef Amo closed his pink, watery eyes, too tired to even glare at them. Instead, he counted to four then re-opened and¡­promptly fell to the ground.

    ¡®¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­¡¯ he slurred, lifting up his arm, willing it into smoke form.

    It did not obey.

    The street behind was sideways, and the people were vibrating out of their own skins, and the sky¡­was a spiral becoming a nebula that was eating up the entire-¡­

    ¡®How¡¯s the view down there?¡¯ shouted the slimmer guard, giving him a kick to the gut.

    Chef Amo took it as best he could then rotated slowly onto his back.

    ¡®Gods in heat! What¡¯s that on your throat?¡¯

    ¡®Looks like a hole¡­¡¯

    ¡®Several holes. Blood too.¡¯

    The two guards retreated to the wall of the gate, as Chef Amo completed the epic struggle back to his feet and stared past them. The collar of his d¨­buku had clearly fallen down and the wound was visible¡­but that didn¡¯t really matter anymore.

    All he cared about was getting past these idiots and inside the gate.

    ¡®What¡¯s going on here?¡¯ slurred a familiar female voice from the street behind.

    The two guards perked up a bit, pointing at the swaying figure of Chef Amo. Or, from their new perspective, the swaying, re-animated corpse of Chef Amo.

    ¡®Dead¡­¡¯ one of them stammered.

    The owner of the voice, a tall woman in a Shingen-issue ash grey yukata, eyes glazed, hair chaotic, walked round the side of Chef Amo, holding back a yawn for about half a second then just running with it. After looking her target up and down, back and front, she grabbed his chin and asked within a second yawn, ¡®drunk?¡¯

    Still running on the last sparks of adrenaline, Atta Noe filtered some light into Chef Amo¡¯s eyes and replied, ¡®annoyed.¡¯

    The woman let go of his chin and stepped back, tilting her head and doing a second examination. ¡®Wah¡­Noe?¡¯

    ¡®Stop gawping, Miso, and take me inside.¡¯

    ¡®Where¡¯s your box?¡¯

    ¡®In my side pocket.¡¯

    Misora glanced down at the yukata, then closed her eyes in embarrassment. ¡®You mean you lost it?¡¯

    Chef Amo looked at the two guards, who were so bewildered that their hands were reaching to the wrong side of their waists for their katanas, then stretched out a hand towards Misora¡¯s face.

    With an almost fox-like reflex, Misora blocked the initial grab¡­then messed up completely when she tried to seize his wrist.

    ¡®Hungover again, Miso?¡¯ Chef Amo asked, taking hold of her comrade¡¯s cheeks and studying her pupil status.

    ¡®Work fatigue,¡¯ Misora replied, shrugging off the cheek seizure and giving a hand signal to the guards. Then repeating it when they gazed back at her like a pair of constipated koi. Finally, they pulled their hands away from their belts, shifted to the side, and gave the signal to open the gate.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Draping an arm around Chef Amo¡¯s shoulder, Misora used her spare hand to poke him in the stomach. ¡®You¡¯re telling me this was the best one you could find?¡¯

    ¡®¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­¡¯ Atta Noe cursed back in her own language.

    Misora laughed. ¡®I accept your praise.¡¯

    ~~~

    Unlike those of the weaker, pat-down-every-guest warlords, Takeda Shingen¡¯s base of operations wasn¡¯t a mountain castle, or a moat castle, or even a little mound of earth next to a village castle; it was an old-fashioned mansion complex on the fringes of K¨­fu, the capital of Kai Province.

    Of course, it was still fortified to some extent, and guarded by thugs who liked to kick random drunks into comas, but if you really wanted to attack, it wouldn¡¯t be a hard thing to do. And perhaps even less so now, since the new leader of the clan, Shingen, was a twenty-one year old upstart who¡¯d had the temerity to usurp his own father.

    Fortunately, the neighbouring warlords in Shinano Province remained both cautious and intimidated by the Takeda name, and had decided not to dip their toes into the muddy waters of aggression¡­yet.

    But that wouldn¡¯t last forever.

    Especially if there were blood in that water.

    ~~~

    A moderately grand chamber, panels drawn, eight strategically placed okiandon the only source of light.

    Standing before a giant, hinoki-carved table, both hands palm down on the map of Shinano Province laid upon it, the lithe and lightly dressed figure of Takeda Shingen cleared his throat with a hacking cough and asked if there were any more seaweed strips.

    ¡®Another bowl is imminent,¡¯ replied the totem pole disguised as a man slightly to his rear, stroking the white beard growth on his left cheek.

    ¡®Tell them to hurry, Yukio Ka. My poor father looks hungry.¡¯

    Atta Ka Yukio glanced over at the man in the corner of the room, sitting on what looked like a child¡¯s throne. On the wall to his right, a wide canvas depicting the Battle of Un No Kuchi, his son¡¯s greatest success. To his left, nothing. In truth, he didn¡¯t resemble Shingen in most aspects, with the notable exception of the eyes; they had the same tigerish ferocity as his youngest son. Or they did. Now that he¡¯d been deposed, the middle-aged man¡¯s pupils looked smaller, tamed, as if the tiger inside had found a vending machine with unlimited refills and growled, ¡®okay, nice.¡¯

    ¡®Back to the Shinano issue,¡¯ continued Shingen, running his hand along the edge of the table as he moved left. ¡®In my estimation, none of the northern clans have the courage or political will to attack. They will wait to see how I act first. Which, in turn, gives me a clear advantage.¡¯

    ¡®I suggest the Suwa as the first target,¡¯ replied Atta Ka Yukio, floating a vague finger towards a lake on the map close to the border of Kai.

    ¡®Agreed.¡¯

    ¡®Diplomacy to begin with, an alliance perhaps¡­use them to get a foothold in the province. Then, when our base is secure, we move down the highway here and into the Ina Valley.¡¯

    ¡®And by the time we take the whole province, my hip won¡¯t function and my teeth will be falling out. No, no, far too slow. What we need to do is attack. Find an excuse, and annihilate those superstitious fools.¡¯

    ¡®That would undoubtedly provoke the other clans, the Murakami, possibly even the Nagao up in Echigo.¡¯

    ¡®Good. Then they will know my name.¡¯

    Atta Ka Yukio pulled his hands behind his back and dug nails into the skin. The young man with dark green hair to his left, who had been kneeling and staring at the floor for some time, looked over at his twin on the right hand side and nodded. That young man took a tissue from his sleeve and wiped the yellow liquid seeping out of Atta Ka Yukio¡¯s hand, as well as the residue stains still on his nail.

    On the far side of the room, the door panel slid open and a guard came in, swiftly followed by an utterly wrecked-looking Chef Amo.

    ¡®What is it?¡¯

    ¡®This man insists on seeing you, daimy¨­.¡¯ The guard looked back beyond the door, grimacing when he saw Misora [hair still a mess] miming a clapping motion with her hands. ¡®On the word of ¨­sugi Misora, Kunoichi 1<sup>st</sup> rank.¡¯

    Shingen squinted at Chef Amo, and then switched instantly to tiger mode when the man marched with no fear whatsoever to the other side of the map table.

    ¡®Name!¡¯ Shingen shouted, eyes half on the bizarre figure of the melting oaf, half on the guard, whose right arm was now visibly trembling.

    ¡®Your most loyal advisor, Atta Noe¡¯, replied Chef Amo, scanning the map and then putting a finger down hard on a forested area about fifteen kilometres from K¨­fu. ¡®Whose box is stuck right here.¡¯

    Shingen leaned across the map and grabbed the intruder by the collar, staring with great concentration into the corpse¡¯s eyes.

    ¡®You¡¯re fingering one of my stab holes,¡¯ said Chef Amo, monotone.

    Shingen frowned in confusion then looked down at his hand. The aggressiveness of his action had dislodged a pocket reserve of blood in Chef Amo¡¯s throat, and now it was all over his fingers.

    ¡®Kuso¡­¡¯ he yelled, letting go and wiping the blood on the intruder¡¯s d¨­buku.

    ¡®You have been gone a long while,¡¯ said Atta Ka Yukio, stepping forward to the map table, with both green-haired twins immediately filling the space behind. ¡®We were growing concerned.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m sure you were.¡¯ The purple spiral in Chef Amo¡¯s eyes intensified, for a brief moment, then powered back down into coy, little dots. ¡®The two ashigaru you sent to retrieve the box never turned up.¡¯

    ¡®That is odd.¡¯

    ¡®And one of the six slabs of meat fled to a nearby ryokan. Along with an idiot boy who helped him escape.¡¯

    ¡®You were not successful in your mission?¡¯ asked Shingen, glaring at the guard still standing near the door. Taking the hint, the man retreated fast, the door sliding shut with a loud knock behind him.

    ¡®They were out of range, I couldn¡¯t get to them. Until I found a reserve body.¡¯

    ¡®You killed this¡­man?¡¯

    ¡®No, a different one, some ditzy kitchen girl. Ah, it¡¯s too much to go into. The key point is, I¡¯m very frustrated, and tired, and the only way to fix it is for me to go back to that ryokan, along with my box, and eviscerate them.¡¯

    ¡®The ashigaru and the idiot boy?¡¯

    ¡®And a few other degenerates. But we¡¯ll have to leave immediately, before they move on. Six soldiers to carry the box and assist, ¨­sugi Misora to entertain me on the way there and the way back. That should be sufficient.¡¯

    Chef Amo turned to the door panel, taking a few steps forward before spinning back and performing the most basic of bowing motions. As he did so, some more blood spilled out of his neck wound.

    ¡®Your plan is not satisfactory,¡¯ said Shingen, waiting for Chef Amo to lift his head back up.

    ¡®Which part?¡¯

    ¡®Which part, daimy¨­,¡¯ corrected Atta Ka Yukio, tone austere, eyes glowing a cold shade of yellow.

    Chef Amo glanced at him, then at the two green-haired twins at the sides, his right hand making a triangle shape that, in Atta Noe¡¯s natural form, would¡¯ve enacted a seamless transition to purple mist.

    ¡®Yukio Ka is right, your manner is disturbingly informal today.¡¯

    ¡®Sorry, daimy¨­, it is just¡­difficult¡­in this body.¡¯

    ¡®Excuses are irrelevant. You will stay here, in your chambers, to rest. In the meantime, I will send four men to retrieve your box, and four in addition to that to deal with the ryokan situation.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry, but that will not be adequate¡­daimy¨­.¡¯

    ¡®Nonsense. Four is more than enough.¡¯

    ¡®Not in this case. There is another presence, at the ryokan. A Gos Ussu.¡¯

    ¡®Gos who?¡¯

    ¡®A demon, daimy¨­. A notoriously itinerant one.¡¯

    ¡®Territorial?¡¯ interrupted Atta Ka Yukio, giving a quick apologetic bow to Shingen, who waved the insult away with a swish of his hand.

    ¡®In this case, yes. It will expect attack.¡¯

    ¡®Does it have a talisman?¡¯ asked Shingen, trailing a fingernail along his own throat. ¡®Something my men can destroy?¡¯

    The tall advisor coughed, breaking in ahead of Chef. ¡®This kind of demon, Gos Ussu, typically choose jewellery as their talisman, daimy¨­. A ring or necklace perhaps.¡¯

    ¡®Breakable?¡¯

    ¡®On the spot, no, but here in this complex, with the right tools¡­¡¯

    ¡®Your men will die before they get a foot inside the front door,¡¯ interrupted Chef Amo, wiping off some of the new blood that was still dribbling down his neck. ¡®Daimy¨­.¡¯

    ¡®Not necessarily.¡¯ Atta Ka Yukio took a pale blue rock from one of the apparently telepathic green-haired twins and held it out for Shingen to inspect. ¡®This will offer temporary protection.¡¯

    ¡®A lump of rock?¡¯ asked Shingen, confused.

    ¡®It is a symbol of my kind. The Gos Usso will respect it.¡¯

    ¡®But it won¡¯t kill the beast?¡¯

    ¡®In my experience, it is better not to make enemies if it can be avoided, daimy¨­. I¡¯m sure this demon has no personal enmity towards you.¡¯

    Chef Amo swished his right arm through the air and laughed, but lost glee quickly when he remembered it was a human arm and not the mist show he was used to.

    ¡®It is settled then. Four men to the ryokan, four to the box. And they will all dress as merchants, with limited arms.¡¯

    ¡®I will see to it promptly, daimy¨­.¡¯

    ¡®¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­¡¯ muttered Chef Amo, watching Atta Ka Yukio and his two little disciples slide over to the door panel.

    As one of the twins reached for the frame, the panel drew open abruptly and another guard entered with a bowl of seaweed strips in both hands.

    ¡®Over there,¡¯ said Shingen, gesturing towards his father, who was still upright on his little throne, staring at the creases on his left hand.

    The guard walked carefully over, clearly terrified of dropping the bowl, and stopped in front of his ex-boss. Hand shaking, he picked up one of the longer seaweed strips and held it out over his lap.

    ¡®Wretch¡­¡¯ the ex-daimy¨­ shouted and struck the guard with the back of his right hand, deftly using his other hand to retrieve the bowl before it dropped onto the floor.

    Observing the scene with blank indifference, Atta Noe checked that the door panel was closed and then moved round to the other side of the map table.

    Shingen was concentrating on shrine activity in Shinano province again, so she crept up behind and placed her vessel¡¯s big clumsy paws on the daimy¨­¡¯s shoulders. Feeling confident, she ran them in firm strokes down his back and then curved back outwards to his waist.

    ¡®Not in that wreck,¡¯ Shingen said curtly, refusing to look up from the map.

    ¡®I can go and change,¡¯ said the purple demon, ¡®into something younger.¡¯

    ¡®No, leave it. I don¡¯t have time for workmanlike massages. Go and rest. Wait for your box to come back.¡¯

    ¡®¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­¡¯ she cursed, pupils on fire.

    ¡®What was that?¡¯

    ¡®Of course, Lord Shingen,¡¯ replied Atta Noe, shifting back to Japanese, the roughness of Chef Amo¡¯s voice incongruous with her attempt at being polite. ¡®I will go and rest.¡¯

    ¡®Hmm. I¡¯ll have to get a translator for that language of yours one day. From Yukio Ka, perhaps.¡¯

    Retracting the seduction hands before they turned into murder hands, Atta Noe looked again at Shingen¡¯s father in the corner. He had just finished licking both sides of a seaweed strip and was now lowering it slowly into his mouth, his boot doing little jab kicks at the guard on the floor.

    The former lord of Kai Province.

    Existing.

    As his usurper son¡¯s pet.

    Too disgusted to even shake her host body¡¯s head, Atta Noe walked back over to the door panel and knocked on it until a guard opened up.

    ¡®Too slow,¡¯ she barked, clipping him on the ear as she passed, and then outright growling at Misora, who was leaning against the wall, a strip of seaweed hanging out of her mouth.

    ¡®What?¡¯ she mumbled, just managing to catch the strip before it dropped to the floor.

    ¡®Human idiocy.'' Atta Noe continued on down the corridor, using some of the last remaining strength in Chef Amo¡¯s sturdy legs to kick the guard at the end in the knee. ''Abject, no brain, human idiocy.''

    ¡®Where?¡¯

    There was no answer, except for a grumbled kuso from the guard.

 Chapter 15: Rorschach Green Light Test

    ~~~

    Miho¡¯s head swayed slowly from side to side, matching the slightly dazed warrior-patient chewing the bun on the futon opposite.

    His chances of praise were fairly good as it was well known that people who¡¯d been sick had a limited sense of taste¡­though that could also work against him too, as he might say it was too bland.

    Aware he was being observed, Akira finished chewing, made a sour expression like he¡¯d just downed a whole jar of salt, then took another bite.

    ¡®It¡¯s edible?¡¯ asked Miho, leaning forward from his futon, the lilac bonsai plant gripped in his hands as a makeshift good luck charm.

    ¡®Better than that blue shit.¡¯

    ¡®Sorry?¡¯

    ¡®On the path, coming here. The blue chicken bun.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, I thought you didn¡¯t remember.¡¯

    Akira shook his head, putting the rest of the bun Miho had rustled up as an impromptu breakfast into his mouth.

    ¡®Sorry about that. The man who sold it to me said it was Kumamoto style chicken.¡¯

    ¡®It was pale blue.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, the salesman didn¡¯t mention that part. And I¡¯ve never been to Kumamoto so I wasn¡¯t sure. Actually, to tell the truth, I¡¯ve never been out of Kai Province.¡¯

    Akira finished chewing and grabbed the cup of water. ¡®What about your money?¡¯

    Miho looked down at the bonsai plant. If it had possessed ears, he would¡¯ve covered them.

    ¡®Still got some left, don¡¯t you?¡¯

    ¡®Not exactly. See, there was this belt merchant, just outside of K¨­fu. He seemed really kind and welcoming and¡­¡¯

    Akira managed to halt the initial spit of water, but couldn¡¯t stop a little bit dribbling out of the side of his mouth.

    ¡®¡­basically, he tricked me. I know, everyone finds it very funny, but¡­I didn¡¯t know there were these kinds of people out here.¡¯ Miho paused, seeing Akira¡¯s eyebrows shoot up. ¡®I mean, I knew there were bad guys, cheats, people like this. But I didn¡¯t know they¡¯d be posing as belt merchants. And chicken bun sellers. It¡¯s a bit depressing, actually¡­¡¯

    ¡®Lesson number one on the road. Never trust a stranger.¡¯

    ¡®¡­very depressing.¡¯

    ¡®Or merchants selling niche products.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, I know that now.¡¯

    Akira coughed, then took more of the water. ¡®Lesson two. Trust people who smile even less. Same with compliment-givers. And pretty women in loose yukatas.¡¯

    ¡®Hang on¡­did you say smile less?¡¯

    ¡®Pretty women in tight yukatas too, for that matter.¡¯

    ¡®Wah, that can¡¯t be right. How can you ever meet people if you think smiling is-¡­¡¯

    ¡®Lesson three,¡¯ continued Akira, coughing again. ¡®Don¡¯t go out of your way to help people in distress.¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t?¡¯

    ¡®Correction. Don¡¯t even look at them. Unless they¡¯re clearly dead. Then you can scavenge their things.¡¯

    Miho shot out a hand to gesticulate dramatically, almost dropping his good-luck bonsai plant. ¡®This is crazy. Don¡¯t help people? Scavenge?¡¯

    ¡®Lesson four. Never agree to work off debt.¡¯

    ¡®What?¡¯

    ¡®Especially in a ryokan that you¡¯re still lodging in.¡¯

    ¡®Wah¡­you mean me? That¡¯s not fair, I¡¯m-¡­I didn¡¯t have any coins to pay her with. Of course I need to work off the debt. You too, as soon as you¡¯re fully recovered. That¡¯s the samurai code that you-¡­¡¯

    ¡®Ashigaru.¡¯

    ¡®Sorry¡­the ashigaru code. That you live by. Right?¡¯

    ¡®If you mean, do I have a katana, then yes.¡¯

    ¡®I don¡¯t understand.¡¯

    Akira laughed, putting down the cup and stretching out his arms in a rising curve. ¡®Have you ever seen an ashigaru working in a ryokan?¡¯

    Miho opened his mouth and kept it like that, looking for and finding no inspiration from the pink-hued Mt Aino fixed to the wall.

    ¡®If you¡¯re gonna survive out here, Miho, then you¡¯ve gotta toughen up. No more trusting people.¡¯

    ¡®I don¡¯t know¡­¡¯

    ¡®No, you do know. Stop trusting other people. They are not your friends. They do not care about your wellbeing. They will stab you and leave you in a ditch if they think it will benefit them in even a small way.¡¯

    ¡®Does that include you?¡¯

    ¡®Yes, that¡¯s better. Cynicism. Granted, I do partially owe you my life, even if I do still feel like shit physically¡­and mentally¡­but I¡¯m telling you now, the next time you come across someone unconscious in the middle of a forest, keep walking¡­cos they¡¯re probably a bandit. Or a psychopathic purple mist demon, which is a new addition to my list, but still¡­strangers bad, minding your own business good.¡¯

    Miho got up and placed the bonsai plant carefully back on the table, checking its little leaves for any damage he may have caused. Seemed relatively intact. Apart from one or two crumpled branches. And there was a high probability they were supposed to bend like that¡­according to his brain¡¯s recently opened probability centre.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    ¡®I hope you¡¯re reflecting on what I just said.¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯re right,¡¯ replied Miho, staying near the table, scratching his neck. ¡®I will try to become more sceptical after I¡¯ve completed my forty-eight days here. No more helping strangers.¡¯

    Akira smiled, waiting for the punchline, but when it didn¡¯t arrive he turned it into a laugh.

    ¡®Isn¡¯t that what you said to do?¡¯ asked Miho, puzzled again.

    ¡®I¡¯m gonna do you a favour¡­Miho. When I get enough energy back to leave this scam hole, I¡¯m bringing you along too.¡¯

    ¡®But-¡­¡¯

    ¡®For a little while, at least.¡¯

    Before Miho could expand on his but, there was a knock at the door. Out of instinct, Akira reached for the guard of his katana, gesturing to Miho to grab the cup.

    Obviously, the newly sceptical village kid didn¡¯t have a clue what the hand signals meant and just slid open the door panel normally, without any defensive posture or weaponry at all.

    ¡®Ito-dono¡­¡¯ Miho said, opening the door a little wider.

    ¡®I told you, don¡¯t call me that,¡¯ replied Aya, peeking past Miho¡¯s shoulder into the room.

    ¡®Wah¡­sorry, I thought it was Himiko who said that.¡¯

    ¡®She doesn¡¯t like it either.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, that makes sense. What are you doing here?¡¯

    Hearing a female voice, Akira kept hold of the blade and poked his face round the side of the wall. ¡®Yes, what are you doing here?¡¯

    Aya pushed back a step when she saw the ashigaru¡¯s face, then edged left until most of her body was blocked by Miho.

    ¡®I came to tell you something,¡¯ she whispered into his neck.

    ¡®About dinner service?¡¯

    ¡®No, different.¡¯

    ¡®Aren¡¯t you the girl who got kicked by those two ashigaru outside?¡¯ asked Akira, rising to his feet and scratching his head wound with his right hand; the other one still gripped onto the guard of his katana.

    Aya ignored the remark and moved in closer to Miho¡¯s ear. ¡®I don¡¯t think you should go to Room 28.¡¯

    ¡®What? Why not?¡¯

    ¡®I can¡¯t explain. Just don¡¯t go. Stay in this room. Okay?¡¯

    Miho looked at Aya¡¯s forehead and saw little droplets of sweat forming. Not rolling down, just sticking there like stubborn limpets. ¡®Does this have anything to do with that green light I saw?¡¯

    ¡®I have to go, it¡¯s getting late. Just follow what I said.¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t go into Room 28,¡¯ Miho repeated, nodding.

    ¡®Not under any condition.¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­can I ask why not again?¡¯

    ¡®No time, I have to go.¡¯

    ¡®Why can¡¯t we go into Room 28?¡¯ asked Akira, popping up so suddenly beside Miho¡¯s shoulder that Aya thought at first that he¡¯d crawled out of it.

    ¡®Really no time,¡¯ she repeated, and wiped her forehead dry with her yukata sleeve before turning and hurrying off down the corridor.

    ¡®That was weird,¡¯ said Miho, keeping his hand on the door panel.

    ¡®Puzzling words from a pretty face¡­¡¯ muttered Akira.

    ¡®What¡¯s that?¡¯

    ¡®Rule number five: truthful women never approach you first.¡¯

    Miho frowned, conjuring up the obvious rejoinder in his head; what if they¡¯re a decent person and really do like you? But he didn¡¯t say it. Instead, he slid the door panel back across and headed over to the other one, stepping out onto the balcony. He didn¡¯t have his jacket on so it was a bit cold, but that wasn¡¯t important, and neither was the river frog investigating his foot.

    He just wanted to see the green light cabin.

    ¡®That¡¯s Room 28?¡¯ asked Akira, following him out, also without his d¨­buku, and kicking the frog away. ¡®The one that was lit up?¡¯

    ¡®Himiko said it was a luminous green rock causing it. To make guests feel relaxed.¡¯

    ¡®Well, I guess it¡¯s switched off now.¡¯

    Akira stretched out his arms again, doing a full scan of the ryokan and its surrounding environment. He wasn¡¯t one for nature, too slow-moving, too unpredictable, but he had to admit that this location was pretty special. Close to the mountains, but not close enough to get attention from bandits, a river that didn¡¯t have drunk ashigaru pissing in it, chickens that apparently knew when to be quiet. The only real pity was that it wasn¡¯t farther away from K¨­fu.

    ¡®Wah¡­there it is. The light again.¡¯

    Akira turned along with his outstretched arm, making one of his trademark poor whistling noises as he took in the bright green glow in the cabin across the courtyard.

    ¡®That¡¯s a lot of rock,¡¯ he said, checking back inside the room for his katana.

    ¡®Whoever¡¯s in there must be feeling very relaxed.¡¯

    ¡®Or fucking terrified.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah¡­¡¯

    ¡®They¡¯re definitely not asleep, that¡¯s for sure.¡¯

    Miho added another yeah under his breath and continued watching the mildly ethereal light show, Aya¡¯s words riding a chilly breeze down from the mountain and along the balcony railings directly into his brain.

    Don¡¯t go in there.

    Not under any condition.

    Can¡¯t explain why.

    ~~~

    ¡®It is a strange thing to say, but in the light of this abundant moon, you remind me of a woman I once met¡­many winters past, in a fisherman¡¯s shack.¡¯

    Tracing the words with her index finger, Himiko blocked out the muffled sounds in the onsen room and continued reading out loud.

    ¡®Turning to her husband of four years, her face the colour of mountain ice, the snow woman replied in stark monotone, ¡®I warned you not to tell anyone about me.¡¯¡¯

    Himiko¡¯s finger stumbled as the muffled sound came closer to the wall before turning into a brief, almost bird-like screech.

    She took a breath, looking down at the little creases on the rice paper in her hand, trying not to picture what was happening in the onsen room.

    It wasn¡¯t the first time she¡¯d been present for the feeding ritual. That had happened years ago, in Uedara. An ashigaru who¡¯d followed her home and tried to rape her in her own rock garden. No pity for that one, or the wretches who came after. They had all had it coming in some way. But this one¡­

    Another bird-like squeal. No, a series of them, the last one answered by a real bird in the trees outside. Then a short respite. Then a cracking noise¡­like something was being chiselled into.

    Letting out a loud breath to cover the din, Himiko went back to the rice paper and instantly felt ten times worse. The guest¡¯s story, a soft romantic fantasy about Yuki Onna coming into the real world and falling for a simple Japanese poet¡­was so incredibly na?ve. And sincere. And the man himself, his general attitude around the ryokan¡­incredibly polite, praising Miho¡¯s food, asking if she needed help collecting ingredients for meals, offering to go and look for Sachiko when she didn¡¯t come back.

    All that goodwill and compassion and kindness leading to this end point: evisceration in Room 28. Assisted by her. The accomplice.

    She closed her eyes, editing his story into her own black void.

    A shy Japanese pervert, lusting after Yuki Onna, overruling her headache complaints and seeking constant sex, reading interminable poetry to her face, slowly, inevitably pushing her into the kitchen and demanding the same soup his mother used to make.

    ¡®It is done,¡¯ said a voice, forcing her out of her cope hole and back onto the tatami floor space of Room 28.

    The man in the green yukata was standing in the doorway to the onsen room, the skin of the kind poet guest hanging loose from his left hand.

    Somehow, she didn¡¯t vomit. Not even the rehearsal of it.

    ¡®How was his poetry?¡¯

    ¡®What?¡¯

    ¡®Or was it a novel?¡¯

    ¡®Ah, you mean this.¡¯ Himiko raised the rice paper up an inch, barely qualifying as a gesture. ¡®Nonsense. Perverted drivel.¡¯

    ¡®Good. A small mercy for you, at least.¡¯

    ¡®For both of us.¡¯

    The man in the green yukata dropped the skin on the floor and put six fingertips against his forehead.  Making something akin to ragged breath noises, he started to move his face in tiny circles.

    ¡®Bring the other two in one hour,¡¯ he said finally. ¡®Another two hours after that, the girl.¡¯

    Himiko glanced down at the story, the skin of its writer still visible from the corner of her eye. ¡®Are you sure you need her too?¡¯

    ¡®Yes.¡¯

    ¡®I don¡¯t know¡­you look quite satiated. Radiant eyes, no creases...¡¯

    The man removed the fingertips from his forehead and stretched them forward, the fingers themselves seeming to grow an extra inch. ¡®If you understood what was coming, you would not hesitate.¡¯

    ¡®What exactly is coming again?¡¯ asked Himiko, staring at his fingers.

    ¡®Atashhka. An unusually wild type.¡¯

    ¡®Just one?¡¯

    ¡®Coming this far, without her box¡­¡¯

    ¡®Okay, but¡­she¡¯s still a demon¡­that you can potentially defeat. Right?¡¯

    ¡®Inexperience, perhaps¡­¡¯

    ¡®You can beat her?¡¯ Himiko repeated, stopping herself from waving the dead poet¡¯s pages in his face.

    Pulling back his fingers, the man bobbed his head rhythmically, the outline of his shape glowing diluted green. ¡®On a full stomach. With certain tools. Yes.¡¯

    ¡®Without destroying our ryokan?¡¯

    ¡®Certainly.¡¯

 Chapter 16: Feeding Time In Room 28

    ~~~

    With the sun dipping down below the mountain to the west, and the sky phasing into a hazy pink, the Jewel of Kai Ryokan looked almost magical.

    That¡¯s what Miho thought as he walked across the courtyard, luggage sack over his shoulder, with Akira doing a fairly good impression of a wounded soldier two yards ahead of him.

    ¡®I hope you¡¯ve got enough energy for the steps,¡¯ Himiko said back to them, cleverly avoiding the danger of addressing the ashigaru directly.

    ¡®Might need a shoulder to lean on,¡¯ replied Akira, blowing out his cheeks.

    ¡®Shoulder?¡¯

    ¡®Or a firm waist to grip onto.¡¯

    Himiko stopped a little higher up, and looked down at Miho. ¡®You want to carry your friend?¡¯

    ¡®I was thinking of a more feminine touch,¡¯ countered the ashigaru.

    ¡®What?¡¯

    ¡®Feminine. Moody-looking. Name beginning with H.¡¯

    Himiko muttered under her breath and turned back to the steps. Catching up to Akira, who was starting to lose the feigned hobble, Miho tapped him on the shoulder and whispered, ¡®I don¡¯t think she¡¯s available.¡¯

    ¡®You mean she¡¯s fucking that guy in the green yukata?¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­who?¡¯

    ¡®Doesn¡¯t matter. I don¡¯t like her much anyway. Tried to poison me with that garbage medicine. Con artist too¡­saying I had to work off some imaginary debt. And forcing you to actually do it.¡¯

    Miho shot back, ¡®not forced,¡¯ and kept moving, wiping his hand against the side of his luggage sack.

    ¡®Does have a nice shape to her though,¡¯ added Akira to the hawfinch sitting on a branch nearby.

    ~~~

    The door panel to Room 28 was a little different from the one in their old room.

    Instead of a blank sheet of rice paper, there were green swirls stencilled on, and something that looked like a giant red spider lily on fire.

    ¡®Pretty¡­¡¯ said Miho, hand paused on the frame.

    ¡®Artistic wank,¡¯ replied Akira as he shuffled past, looking left through a tiny gap into the onsen room then coming to a stop between Himiko and the bigger of the two futons.

    ¡®You can leave the panel open,¡¯ said Himiko to Miho, who pulled his hand off the frame and continued on into the main room.

    ¡®Well, this is it then,¡¯ said Akira, doing a full rotation plus appraisal, while also making another weak attempt at a whistling noise. ¡®The luxurious Room 28.¡¯

    ¡®We don¡¯t use such grand words,¡¯ replied Himiko, moving away from Akira and back towards the panel guarding the onsen room.

    ¡®Don¡¯t blame you. Definitely not the biggest room I¡¯ve ever seen.¡¯ He stepped on the futon, pressing down hard with his feet. ¡®Not the softest bed either.¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯ll get used to it.¡¯

    ¡®Actually, we don¡¯t mind going back to the other room,¡¯ said Miho, still holding on tight to his luggage.

    ¡®Don¡¯t be silly, this is an upgrade.¡¯

    ¡®Our luggage isn¡¯t unpacked yet, it¡¯s no problem.¡¯

    ¡®Then unpack it.¡¯

    ¡®Listen to the woman, little chef,¡¯ said Akira, putting his feet back on the tatami. ¡®Put your luggage down, warm up the onsen, enjoy yourself.¡¯

    ¡®But¡­¡¯

    ¡®Appreciate the moment.¡¯ Akira walked up to Miho¡¯s shoulder, and whispered as soft as he could manage into his ear. ¡®Because we¡¯ll be gone by tomorrow morning.¡¯

    ¡®I suppose you¡¯re right.¡¯

    ¡®Of course I am. I¡¯m an experienced samurai.¡¯

    ¡®Ashigaru,¡¯ Himiko mumbled, adding a fake smile when Akira picked up on it.

    Moving over to the futon that hadn¡¯t been trampled on, Miho dropped his luggage sack on the tatami beside it and performed his own scan. It had pretty much the same theme as their room; painting of a snowy mountain, water bucket, an okiandon that wasn¡¯t yet lit and a wisteria bonsai tree on the desk. No sign of any luminous green rocks.

    Maybe they were stored in the other room¡­

    Akira seemed to be thinking the same thing as he walked over to the balcony and checked both corners outside. ¡®Now, where are all these green rocks I¡¯ve been hearing about?¡¯

    ¡®Storage,¡¯ Himiko replied in a brusque tone, giving Miho a puzzled look as he edged closer to the onsen room

    ¡®There¡¯s a hissing noise,¡¯ he said, putting an ear closer to the shoji screen.

    ¡®Comes from the spring. Underground.¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s quite loud.¡¯

    ¡®Not really.¡¯

    Miho put a hand on the frame of the door panel and was about to pull it across when someone beat him to it. In one smooth motion, the screen slid to the other side of the wall, stopping about a hundredth of a millimetre from hitting it.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡®Err¡­hello,¡¯ stuttered Miho.

    Standing in the newly revealed space was a strange figure; ostensibly the same tall man in a green yukata he¡¯d spotted around the ryokan a few times, but close up, as Miho was then, he appeared more like a golem that had yet to be coloured in. Eyes buried somewhere in cavernous sockets, neck waxy-looking, hair with the faintest tint of green dye.

    And when his mouth opened, it looked almost abstract, his teeth scattered about as separate blocks instead of part of a functioning human jaw.

    ¡®Ah, you are real,¡¯ said Akira from the other side of the room, tapping his temple. ¡®Thought you were a hallucination.¡¯

    ¡®You can leave now, Himiko,¡¯ the mouth said, as the hands slid the door to the onsen room back across.

    ¡®Are you sure?¡¯ she asked, glancing at Miho, then at Akira, who surprisingly was not edging a hand towards his katana guard.

    ¡®It is late and you have other duties to perform. I can show them around.¡¯

    ¡®Around what?¡¯ asked Akira, gesturing to the walls. ¡®We¡¯re already here.¡¯

    The hissing noise that was apparently a spring underground grew louder, providing a nuisance to no one except Miho, who backed away from the onsen room and the odd-looking man next to it, and said, ¡®can you not hear that?¡¯

    ¡®Perhaps I was too hasty,¡¯ said the man in the green yukata, turning his back on the ashigaru and flashing his pupils shock-green at Himiko. ¡®You may stay.¡¯

    Himiko blinked and looked down, startled to see her hand clutching the green necklace. In the background, the hissing noise changed pitch, morphing into something akin to a squeal.

    ¡®It is, of course, your choice.¡¯

    She rubbed the stone in the necklace between her fingers, raising her head three separate times to look at Miho, before finally giving up and closing her eyes completely.

    ¡®How about you both leave?¡¯ said Akira, moving closer, still not concerned enough to reach for his weapon. ¡®Or you leave and she can stay. As long as she stops glaring at me like a fanatic.¡¯

    ¡®Think of it as a gift,¡¯ the man in the green yukata continued, moving in close to Himiko, running a green-tinged finger down the string of her necklace.

    ¡®The boy¡­¡¯ she muttered back, eyes remaining shut.

    ¡®Annoyingly curious.¡¯

    ¡®He¡¯s-¡­¡¯

    In the onsen room, the hissing-squealing noise ceased abruptly, allowing Miho to finally let his shoulders drop in relief.

    It lasted about three seconds.

    Taking his hand away from what looked like Himiko¡¯s chest, the man in the green yukata turned in a sliding motion and glided as if on the back of an invisible hawk over to Akira.

    ¡®What the fuck are you doing?¡¯

    ¡®Quiet, wretch.¡¯

    The man held his palm up in front of Akira¡¯s eyes and¡­.seemingly mesmerised him with a dose of green light.

    ¡®Hey¡­¡¯ said Miho, taking a step forward.

    A few more seconds and the green faded out, leaving the ashigaru swaying lethargically from side to side.

    ¡®What did you do?¡¯

    Ignoring the boy, the man in the green yukata clamped a hand down on the ashigaru¡¯s shoulder, steadying his rocking motion, as the hissing noise restarted in the background.

    That seemed to spark something in Akira¡¯s brain, his hand reflexively swatting away the pinch and putting his own grip on the attacker¡¯s throat.

    ¡®What the-¡­¡¯ he slurred as the man stared back at him, the outline of the hair, the eyes, the eye sockets, all translucent green.

    ¡®Akira¡­¡¯ muttered Miho, hand rising up slowly as if he were asking permission to speak.

    ¡®Fucking hand¡­¡¯ Akira said, as the man¡¯s neck became moist, impossible to grip onto, and, after another sharp flash of green light, he pushed Akira¡¯s hand away, clamping his own luminous paw back on the ashigaru¡¯s shoulder.

    This time it was stronger, more assertive, like a whole mountain castle was weighing down on him and he had no choice but to drop to the floor and-

    ¡®Himiko¡­¡¯ shouted Miho, waving his arms at her.

    ¡®No, no, no, no¡­¡¯ she mumbled, putting her forehead against the painting of the snow-covered Mt. Togakushi, eyes shut tight.

    ¡®What¡¯s happening?¡¯

    ¡®Attack¡­¡¯ slurred Akira, trying to rotate his shoulder back into shape.

    ¡®What?¡¯

    ¡®Hit him¡­fight¡­¡¯

    ¡®How?¡¯

    ¡®Gods on a-¡­¡¯

    Sliding one knee back, Akira reached for his katana guard, but the green man read the move and intercepted, gripping his wrist and twisting.

    The snap of Akira¡¯s bone and his muffled scream were both lost to the intensifying hissing noise from the onsen room. Turning again to Himiko, Miho opened his mouth to say help¡­and closed it again when he saw she still had her eyes closed.

    Weapon, he thought. Break the man¡¯s grip before he¡­

    Miho glanced over at the green man¡¯s current status and regretted it instantly. What he¡¯d initially doubted had been a human mouth was now stretching to twice its normal size and lowering itself gently onto the top of Akira¡¯s skull, the fringes of it spewing out yet more green

    ¡®Stop¡­¡¯ Miho said, rooted to the spot in confusion.

    Either oblivious or uninterested, the green thing continued, pinning down Akira by the shoulder, gripping his non-broken wrist to prevent the ashigaru from going for his katana again, trying out different spots on the skull before, finally, chomping down for the opening bite.

    Surprisingly, there was no scream from Akira, just muffled groans, as the demon¡­did something to his head. It wasn¡¯t clear what, but there was a thin stream of blood crawling down Akira¡¯s forehead, and strips of green flashing light bursting out from in and around his hair.

    ¡®Stop¡­¡¯ shouted Miho, snapping out of his funk and flinging a pillow at the green man¡¯s head.

    It connected¡­and changed nothing.

    The biting of Akira¡¯s skull continued, his muffled groans turning into wails, and a second stream of blood flowing down past his ear.

    Moving round the perimeter of the attack, Miho grabbed the only thing grabbable, the wisteria bonsai tree and threw it at the green man¡¯s head.

    This was slightly more promising, as the demon paused for a moment¡­glanced down at the bonsai tree¡­then shrugged and went back to feeding.

    Reviving a little, Akira tried again to draw his katana, but the green man once more swatted his hand away. ¡®Shall I break this one too?¡¯ he said, the Japanese speech barely recognisable as human.

    Before Akira could answer, a flying okiandon hit the green man on the side of his head and, for the first time in the struggle, affected him in a tangible way.

    He rubbed his head, woundless, then turned on Miho. ¡®Request granted.¡¯

    ¡®Get off him,¡¯ Miho shouted, then added a ¡®what?¡¯ on the end when he heard the green man¡¯s line.

    He soon understood.

    Climbing back onto his invisible hawk, the green man slid directly across the tatami to Miho¡¯s cheek and latched on, instantly beginning the process of excavation.

    Abstract teeth, thought Miho, as an intense, suffocating pain hit the left side of his face, not sharp and stinging, more like a giant clamp slowly crushing his skull.

    ¡®No, you fucking don¡¯t,¡¯ said Akira, the tip of his katana bursting through the green man¡¯s stomach and missing Miho¡¯s chest by a millimetre.

    ¡®Off¡­¡¯ was all Miho could manage as the green man released his cheek and stared down at the blade sticking out.

    On the other side of the room, Himiko opened one eye and let out a feral RAAARRR.

    The hissing noise, which had been rhythmic for a while, stopped.

    ¡®Okay, now let¡¯s try the head,¡¯ said Akira, drawing his katana back out, darting back a step then swinging.

    This time the green man was ready for him; closing the distance in one quick glide and seizing the katana by its guard, then picking up Akira by the neck and throwing him against the wall.

    Either due to shoddy workmanship or the general thinness of the material used, the wooden panels of the wall collapsed and a splashing noise followed as Akira landed in the onsen next door.

    ¡®Kuso¡­¡¯ sounded out almost immediately, along with more splashing sounds and, ¡®it¡¯s fucking boiling in here.¡¯

    Checking his cheek for giant bite holes, Miho held out his other arm in makeshift defence as the green man staggered towards him¡­then dropped it a little when he started coughing.

    ¡®¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­¡¯ came out in some alien language, along with several shots of bile.

    The stomach wound, thought Miho, looking at the dark stain on the green man¡¯s yukata. It worked?

    More splashing from the onsen, another yell of, ¡®too fucking hot,¡¯ and then Akira¡¯s face appeared at the new hole in the wall. ¡®Is he dead yet?¡¯

    The green man responded by cough-gliding over to Himiko and collapsing against her chest. In another time, it would¡¯ve been vaguely erotic, but the demon was still vomiting up bile, as well as emitting more-erratic-than-usual jets of green light.

    ¡®Your stomach¡­¡¯ Himiko said, reaching a hand down to touch it.

    The demon swatted her hand away and seized the necklace, snapping the string in two. Coughing onto her chest a final time, he reeled backwards into the edge of the shoji screen, then vanished into the onsen room.

 Chapter 17: Beyond The Rabbit Hole

    ~~~

    ¡®Katana,¡¯ shouted Akira, poking a dripping wet yukata sleeve through the hole in the wall and jabbing wildly at the floor.

    Pulling back the hand from his cheek, Miho wiped away the already smeared blood on the door frame and then went for the blade. It was odd, there was a pale, slightly viscous kind of green residue coated on its surface, which had to be the green man¡¯s blood.

    What else could it be?

    Stomach bile?

    ¡®Faster¡­¡¯ shouted Akira, waving his arm frantically.

    ¡®Coming.¡¯

    Miho hurried past Himiko, for some reason turning back to say, ¡®sorry about the damage.¡¯ This appeared to be the correct code word as she instantly re-activated, shoving Miho into the door panel as she rushed past, screaming, ¡®don¡¯t leave me, wait, not yet, don¡¯t go.¡¯

    The sound of her ranting got fainter, and quickly developed an echo effect, which didn¡¯t make any sense at all¡­until Miho made it through to the onsen room and saw one of the panels on the far wall slid to the side.

    ¡®I¡¯m going in,¡¯ said Akira, taking his katana from Miho with his right hand and instantly dropping it on the floor. ¡®Kuso¡­¡¯

    ¡®The green gooey stuff?¡¯

    ¡®My wrist¡­gonna have to use the left¡­¡¯ Akira bent down and stopped a moment, waiting for the floor to stop spinning, then picked up the katana guard with his unbroken hand. ¡®What the hell¡¯s all this green slime?¡¯

    ¡®That¡¯s what I said, the green gooey stuff.¡¯

    ¡®Looks like it¡¯s been up an ogre¡¯s nose. Kuso.¡¯

    ¡®Must be the green man¡¯s blood¡­¡¯

    Akira put a hand against Miho¡¯s calf and used it to pull himself up, then went over to the boiling onsen pool and dipped in his blade. He held it there for at least three seconds then pulled it back out and said kuso again.

    ¡®Why is not coming off?¡¯ he moaned, dipping it in once more, this time for ten, fifteen seconds before extracting.

    Didn¡¯t matter, the result was still the same.

    ¡®Gods, I¡¯m really gonna kill that green fucker,¡¯ he said, spitting in the pool and turning back to the secret wall panel.

    ¡®We¡¯re still going in there?¡¯ asked Miho, picking up a towel from the floor and handing it to Akira, who swatted it away in favour of poking his pale green katana into the darkness of the apparent cave passage.

    ¡®Obviously¡­¡¯

    ¡®But you¡¯re soaking wet¡­and your wrist is hurt.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯ll dry eventually. And I¡¯ve still got my left hand.¡¯

    ¡®Can you fight with that?¡¯

    ¡®Against a trained opponent, no. Against a gravely wounded green thing¡­no problem. Besides, he almost bit my head off¡­can¡¯t let that go without some kind of rebuttal.¡¯

    ¡®And Himiko?¡¯

    ¡®Kuso¡­this isn¡¯t an interview, come on. Before they get too far.¡¯

    ¡®Too far to where?¡¯

    Akira¡¯s shook his head as if the answer were obvious then vanished into the darkness, giving Miho a simple choice to make. Run after a demon who¡¯d just tried to eat his entire face, weapon-less, or walk out the door over there and get the hell out of this place.

    Or at the very least, go back to the ryokan lobby and wait for the results to come in.

    Logically, there was only one option¡­leave¡­but if he did that then Akira would be enraged when he came back. And call him a coward. Maybe stab him in the leg too.

    If he came back at all¡­

    Miho rubbed his cheek again, the even more distant sounds of Himiko shouting, ¡®wait, wait,¡¯ drowning out the hissing noise, which he now realised was coming from the onsen water itself, and¡­wait, on the side, wasn¡¯t that a gigantic spoon?

    He stepped across to the tub, investigating.

    It was. A pretty sturdy-looking spoon too. Could do some damage if the other guy wasn¡¯t expecting anything¡­

    Another faint shout from beyond the wall, Himiko requesting a biscuit on the other side.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    Biscuit?

    Ah, probably misheard.

    Picking up the spoon and slashing it through the air like he¡¯d seen other kids in the village do, Miho took a deep breath of mostly onsen steam and headed into the secret passage.

    It was dark instantly, the light from Room 28 a fading dot as he advanced in roughly a straight line.

    ¡®Which way is it? Where are you?¡¯ he shouted into the darkness ahead, getting a closer than expected grunt from the ashigaru.

    ¡®Wah, I thought you were running¡­¡¯

    ¡®Stop yelling, you¡¯ll alert them,¡¯ he whispered, taking Miho by his yukata sleeve and pulling him forward¡­accompanied by sounds of suppressed pain as his wrist started to throb.

    ¡®It¡¯s okay, I can hold onto your sleeve,¡¯ said Miho, giving space for confirmation before making the switch.

    Akira grunted, then continued his update. ¡®They¡¯re up ahead, maybe a hundred, two hundred metres. Hard to say exactly. One of them must know the way through this place¡­or there¡¯s only one tunnel. Not sure. But it¡¯s gonna be tough to attack in this level of darkness.¡¯

    ¡®I found a big spoon in the onsen room,¡¯ said Miho, redundantly holding up his makeshift weapon.

    ¡®To eat him with?¡¯

    ¡®No¡­it was the only thing I could see in there.¡¯

    ¡®Fine. A spoon. Just stay close behind me.¡¯

    ¡®Okay.¡¯

    ¡®Unless I¡¯m pinned down, then you get the fucker off me.¡¯

    ¡®Like just now¡­¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, but faster. None of that pillow throwing shit, okay?¡¯

    ¡®Sorry, I was still in shock, I didn¡¯t-¡­¡¯

    Akira put his hand over Miho¡¯s mouth and pulled them both back against the cave wall. Then groaned again in pain and let go.

    ¡®Fucking wrist¡­¡¯

    ¡®You should stop using it so much¡­¡¯

    ¡®Yeah. Nice idea.¡¯

    ¡®At least until we get it in a bandage.¡¯

    ¡®Over there¡­¡¯ said Akira, clearly getting tired of injury talk.

    Miho pushed his face forward an inch and squinted.

    Up ahead was a faint green glow, seemingly indicating a turn in the path. And possibly the green man himself.

    ¡®Let¡¯s go¡­¡¯ whispered Akira, tugging lightly on Miho¡¯s sleeve.

    Edging forward with their backs tight to the wall, and grumbling quietly every time they scraped against a jagged shelf, they quickly reached the corner, which was, in fact, more of gradual curve, and breathed out in relief.

    The green light wasn¡¯t a whole group of demons prepping for a ryokan massacre, it was just a random series of mineral-type fragments embedded within the cave wall.

    ¡®Got a bit of light now¡­¡¯ said Akira, moving ahead.

    ¡®All this is really inside the mountain?¡¯

    ¡®Looks like it. Probably leads out somewhere¡­though I¡¯m guessing our demon friend won¡¯t be there yet.¡¯

    ¡®Maybe Himiko¡¯s carrying him?¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, Miss Honey Trap. Fucking traitor.¡¯

    Miho looked left at one of the luminous green fragments and pictured it hanging round Himiko¡¯s neck. It¡¯s not her fault was the default response in his head, but then he remembered how she¡¯d just stood there, closing her eyes as both he and Akira were being eaten.

    Or bitten into.

    ¡®Come on¡­I can hear voices¡­¡¯ whispered Akira, sparing Miho¡¯s sleeve this time and offering instead a brief hand beckoning gesture.

    Miho left the green rock slice, and his Himiko defence, and followed a few feet behind the soaking wet guy with the green-stained katana. The newly-discovered light source helped a lot as they didn¡¯t need to worry about tripping over any rocks or getting their zori stuck in a crack, or the worst case scenario, slipping down a crevice and falling into a lost land of dinosaurs.

    Ha, that was River Bitch¡¯s theory. A lost paradise of herbivores and reformed meat eaters who wouldn¡¯t bother humans if we didn¡¯t bother them. Of course, no one in the village ever believed it, but¡­now that he¡¯d seen two demons in less than a week¡­maybe it wasn¡¯t too far-fetched.

    ¡®Are you daydreaming?¡¯

    Miho blinked, seeing an empty cave in front of him.

    ¡®Over here¡­¡¯

    He adjusted to the voice and turned right, seeing Akira ducking behind a huge rock jutting out from the wall. Beyond that were voices; Himiko begging someone to take her with him, and the other replying in gibberish.

    ¡®He¡¯s delirious,¡¯ said Akira, as Miho crouched down beside him. ¡®I looked round and he was fondling the green bits on the wall.¡¯

    ¡®What about Himiko?¡¯

    ¡®Pulling on his yukata, whining a lot. Gods, if she weren¡¯t so sultry-looking, I¡¯d stab her first, just for being such a pushover.¡¯

    Miho flinched, scratching his cheek with his onsen spoon. Did that mean Akira wasn¡¯t going to kill her? Or that he wasn¡¯t going to kill her first?

    ¡®Okay, I think we¡¯ve done enough surveillance¡­¡¯

    Akira moved out from the rock and shook some of the onsen drops off the left sleeve of his yukata as he honed in on his prey.

    Sending the signal for his legs to move, some other part of Miho disobeyed as he stayed precisely where he was, switching the spoon to his neck for further scratching.

    There was about to be two murders.

    In cold blood.

    One of them a woman who¡¯d said his cooking was good.

    He closed his eyes and pretended he was back in the kitchen, asking Aya why Chef Amo was angry all the time. Then he went back further, back home, to the bank of the river where he first met Yuki¡­the hem of her yukata pulled up to her knees as she waded suicidally through the icy water.

    Would you like to join me for a swim?

    A noise from up ahead, a whoosh sound as if a waterfall had just crashed through the walls¡­then a feral scream from Himiko.

    ¡®Don¡¯t leave me here¡­¡¯ she wailed, the here part eaten up by sobbing sounds.

    There was no blocking that out, and Miho didn¡¯t even try, pulling his spoon close to his side and pushing out from behind the rock.

    If I die, shit.

    If I live, get out of here, find Yuki.

    If I suffer an injury of some sort¡­improvise.

    Rounding the corner at jogging speed, he bumped straight into Akira¡¯s statue impersonation and reflexively whacked him on the neck with his onsen spoon.

    ¡®What are you doing?¡¯ he asked, noticing the tip of the ashigaru¡¯s katana was pushed down into the cave floor.

    Akira didn¡¯t answer, he just stared like a zombie, dead ahead.

    Miho followed his line of sight, putting his arm up to mitigate the bright light streaming hardcore at his eyes, and was just about able to make out Himiko¡¯s arm and face disintegrating into tiny flecks of human dust.

    ¡®What¡­¡¯

    ¡®Dead,¡¯ replied Akira, barely above a murmur. ¡®Both of them.¡¯

    The light started to dim, giving them a clearer view as the remaining half of Himiko ¨C the part still planted to the cave floor - was sucked into the same thing that had been painted onto the door panel of Room 28; a giant, luminous red spider lily.

    ¡®That¡¯s¡­¡¯ Miho mumbled, vaguely lifting his arm.

    Before he could add any kind of description, even a basic caveman grunt of big red thing, the glowing portal flashed out five bright pulses then folded in on itself and vanished.

    In its place, a generic cave interior appeared. Or returned. And from the tunnel to the left, an echoed growling noise that sounded like an annoyed bear.

    ¡®Time to leave,¡¯ said Akira, tucking the green-blood katana back into his belt.

    ¡®What was-¡­¡¯

    ¡®Right now.¡¯

 Chapter 18: Might As Well Cut Off My Own Head

    ~~~

    Stepping back through the hidden panel into the onsen room, Akira went straight to the tub and, using his non-injured hand, splashed water on his face.

    ¡®Kuso¡­it¡¯s still boiling.¡¯

    Miho appeared a couple of seconds behind him, brain clearly stuck with the glowing red spider lily madness in the cave as he replied zombie-like, ¡®try washing your face.¡¯

    ¡®Snap out of it, that lunacy happened five minutes ago.¡¯

    ¡®Sorry¡­¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t say sorry, just get your bag and go.¡¯

    ¡®Back to our old room?¡¯

    Akira stared at Miho as if the answer were obvious, then shifted his gaze to the onsen spoon hanging loosely from his hand.

    ¡®Honestly, I don¡¯t even know if I can sleep after that. Himiko¡­she just-¡­¡¯

    ¡®Coward got what she deserved,¡¯ barked Akira, grabbing Miho by the yukata sleeve and pulling him through to the main room. ¡®Standing like a fucking statue while that psycho green thing tried to bite my head off. Kuso¡­scalp still feels weird. Itchy. Infected.¡¯

    Miho touched the wound on his cheek, vaguely aware that his luggage sack was being shoved into his arms by Akira.

    ¡®We¡¯ll go down to the lobby, see what we can salvage. Make a splint for this messed up wrist of mine. Then¡­¡¯ Akira paused at the door panel, looking back at the ashigaru-shaped hole in the wall. ¡®Ah, no choice anymore. We need to get out of Kai province fast, both of us. Head up to Suwa.¡¯

    ¡®Salvage?¡¯ asked Miho, standing in the middle of the room, staring past Akira at the red spider lily sketch on the shoji screen.

    ¡®Okay, we¡¯ll leave that part until you¡¯re conscious again. For now, the lobby. Brain on, move.¡¯

    Scratching his scalp again, Akira hurried off towards the steps outside¡­then ten seconds later popped his head back round the side of the door panel.

    ¡®Faster than that. And please¡­drop the fucking spoon.¡¯

    Confused, Miho looked down at the hand with the luggage, then the other hand, and slowly pieced together what he was being asked.

    It was tough. His boss had just disintegrated inside a glowing flower hole. And a green demon had tried to bite off his cheek. And no matter how many times he¡¯d blinked on the journey back through the cave, the dream hadn¡¯t ended.

    This was the real world.

    With demons of varying colour.

    Dishonest belt merchants.

    Samurai who were actually ashigaru, saying the word salvage instead of steal.

    Girlfriend missing gods knows where.

    Miho blinked again, then dropped the spoon.

    Okay then.

    Reality.

    This ryokan horror show.

    For Yuki¡¯s sake.

    ~~~

    The courtyard was lit pleasantly by the moon and completely ignored as Akira and Miho jogged across its well-manicured, snow-flecked dirt and through the open entrance of the ryokan lobby.

    As expected, the place was deserted, though Himiko had made the effort to light the various okiandon dotted around before leading them into the death trap of Room 28.

    Keeping the non-broken hand on his katana guard, Akira took the fastest route to the main desk and immediately disappeared under it.

    Rummaging sounds could be heard as Miho sat down on the nearest rolled-futon and again pictured Himiko¡¯s face breaking into dust-like pieces. In some of the recreations, he tried to reach out and save her, but then his arm disintegrated too, so he stopped doing that and instead stood at a safe distance, hand raised a little bit, mouth letting out a whimpered, ¡®Himiko, look out.¡¯

    Finally, the scene changed itself entirely, with Himiko morphing into Aya and the muteness of the glowing spider lily becoming the sounds of someone rifling through drawers, looking for salvage.

    Re-initialising the lobby environment, Miho took a moment to adjust then stood up and started walking to the cabin rooms. ¡®We should find Aya,¡¯ he said, vaguely in the direction of the main desk, ¡®let her know what¡¯s happened.¡¯

    A grunting noise came back in return.

    ¡®Actually¡­she could be hurt herself¡­she did try to warn us. Maybe the green demon found out and-¡­¡¯

    ¡®Forget about the girl.¡¯ Akira shot back up from behind the desk, holding a wooden box in his hand. ¡®She¡¯s probably in on it too.¡¯

    ¡®No, she tried to warn us¡­¡¯

    ¡®Which means she knew what was going on. And did nothing.¡¯

    ¡®I don¡¯t think that¡¯s what-¡­¡¯

    ¡®Fucking silent accomplice. The worst kind of coward. She¡¯s lucky I don¡¯t go up there and cut her legs off.¡¯

    ¡®She¡¯s not an accomplice. And I am going to find her. You can stay here and fiddle with your box.¡¯

    Akira put the box down on the table and tilted his head at Miho. ¡®Ah, the rabbit found his teeth. Okay, fine, you go and fetch her, see what she¡¯s got to say for herself.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯ll be back in a few minutes.¡¯

    ¡®And grab a pillowcase for my splint while you¡¯re there. Rope too.¡¯

    ¡®You can make a splint out of that?¡¯

    ¡®My grandma¡¯s very own recipe. Go, go¡­¡¯

    ¡®What if there¡¯s no rope?¡¯

    ¡®Rope substitute.¡¯

    Miho nodded despite not really understanding and walked to the corridor leading out to the first block of cabins, then stopped abruptly and put his hand on the wall frame. ¡®You¡¯ll definitely still be here?¡¯

    It was a futile question as Akira was now loudly shoving a pin into the lock of the wooden box, his face coloured with the same lunatic determination that the green demon had shown when biting the ashigaru¡¯s skull.

    Probably won¡¯t answer a second time either, Miho thought, facing the corridor and moving forward, relieved that it wasn¡¯t quite as dark as the tunnel that had led to Himiko¡¯s face and arm crumbling off.

    No, stop thinking about it, he ordered himself.

    It¡¯s done.

    And Akira¡¯s half right, she did deserve it.

    Kind of.

    To a degree.

    As long as he held tight to the image of Himiko with her back turned, listening to their death screams.

    Yeah, she deserved it.

    Mostly.

    ~~~

    Unlike the box containing the sadistic purple psycho either posing as or existing as Atta Noe, the ryokan money safe was sealed tight.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Akira had broken three pins in four minutes trying to jimmy it open and the fourth wasn¡¯t faring much better.

    It¡¯s like it wasn¡¯t even a lock.

    Or it wasn¡¯t acting like a normal lock should be acting.

    He stopped, looking around the lobby. Maybe the money wasn¡¯t in the box at all. Maybe it was hidden behind one of those generic mountain landscape paintings. Or some other place that regular people wouldn¡¯t notice.

    Walking back around the desk, Akira sized up the lobby as one big theatre set then started ticking off all the names on his internal list.

    Futons? No.

    Floorboards? Too awkward.

    Under the doormat? Too obvious.

    He paused, glancing at a painting of Lake Suwa with a giant tear along the side of the shore [the same one he¡¯d damaged two days earlier].

    But what if it isn¡¯t obvious, he counter-thought.

    That cold¡­quite good-looking¡­psycho could have known thieves would dismiss the easier places, spots that only amateurs would check, and hid the money there on purpose.

    Or was that overthinking it?

    He ran his finger along the rip in the painting, wondering which clumsy oaf had caused such improbable damage. Then switched back to Himiko, making an attempt at evaluating her psyche, what kind of thinker she was, whether she matched her cold exterior internally or put it up as a fa?ade.

    It was difficult¡­he¡¯d only known her a short while, and, unlike Miho, she was very guarded. Very austere. Even asking if they had enough energy to get up those steps to Room 28 had felt like a judgment.

    His finger went under the tear, digging up more of the well-painted slope.

    Outside, something crashed to the ground.

    Probably a sign knocked over by the wind, he thought, still lost in his Himiko assessment.

    Ah, Himiko¡­

    There was one emotional aspect. When she ran after the green demon, she¡¯d called out a Japanese name. No, not called¡­wailed it. Then got ground up into dust for him. Fed guests from her own ryokan to an inhuman sociopath. Not a good way to build up a business. Which meant she couldn¡¯t have really cared about the business. Only the guy pretending to run it with-¡­

    He stopped, the crash from a few moments earlier knocking on the walls of his brain.

    Wait, what wind?

    There wasn¡¯t even a slight breeze when he¡¯d-¡­

    Footsteps on the creaky floorboard by the entrance told him he was an idiot. Spinning quickly, left hand reaching for his katana guard, he modified instantly to dead idiot.

    Three samurai, definitely not ashigaru, were stood opposite, two of them already edging shiftily round the side of the lobby to cage him in.

    He recognised one of them, but couldn¡¯t recall his name. The other two must¡¯ve been transfers, brought in after the Imagawa alliance.

    ¡®Kotoku-dono?¡¯ the one by the entrance said, dusting absolutely nothing off the sleeves of his yellow-patterned d¨­buku.

    Akira did his best squint, then smiled and moved his injured hand up to his belt. ¡®Wah, for a minute there I thought I was in trouble.¡¯

    ¡®Name?¡¯

    ¡®¨­sugi-dono. Travelling in from Uedara¡­getting a bit of fresh mountain air away from all those annoying town folk.¡¯

    The yellow-pattered samurai finished dusting and pulled down the ends of his sleeves. Then removed his d¨­buku completely and placed it carefully on the futon to his left.

    ¡®You¡¯re a talented liar,¡¯ said the samurai now perched by the main desk, glancing at the wooden box laying on its side, and the four slightly bent pins next to it. ¡®If I didn¡¯t know you by sight, I may have believed you.¡¯

    ¡®Well then¡­for that compliment, I shall kill you last,¡¯ replied Akira, side-eyeing the door to the cabins and muttering kuso as another samurai appeared, his katana already half out of the scabbard.

    ¡®Ashigaru¡­¡¯ the yellow-patterned samurai said, virtually spitting it out.

    Keeping his injured hand near the katana guard, Akira mapped out his options. Drained from the green demon attack, sprained wrist on his fighting arm, no back-up. Survival was unlikely, but if he could confuse them, keep them off guard then perhaps¡­

    Outside, a bird made a whistling sound, better than any Akira had ever done.

    Using it as a signal, he launched into action, gripping the tear in the painting next to him, ripping off the shore section and throwing it roughly towards the samurai blocking the corridor exit.

    Then, with his injured hand stuck to his guard, he charged across the middle of the lobby, aiming about three feet to the left of the complimentary samurai¡­pointing like a lunatic at the desk and saying, ¡®now, press it, press it.¡¯

    It was complete nonsense, yet it almost worked.

    Altering course at the very last millisecond, he bit down on the pain, drew his katana with his bad wrist and swiped upwards at the complimentary samurai¡¯s neck¡­connecting with the smallest of scratches as his opponent pulled back, falling onto the table behind him.

    If it had been one on one, or even one on two, Akira would¡¯ve had him, but the other two at the sides had already closed the distance and any move he made to finish off the scratched samurai would leave him wide open. And if they¡¯d guessed by his sloppy stroke that his wrist was sprained¡­then he might as well cut his own head off and roll into a box cos he¡¯d be done.

    Unless¡­

    Could that work?

    He played out the scenarios, trying to kill off his own hope.

    Nah, it was futile. Impossible. Worth a shot.

    Reaching back, he picked up the wooden safe box with his non-sprained hand and flung it at the samurai closing in on the left. Out of pure luck, it hit him with only a slight deflection on the temple, and that was enough.

    Akira leapt two deft steps in the same direction and poked his green-tinged blade into the complimenting samurai¡¯s stomach, grimacing in unison as his wrist folded over.

    Ride it through, he told himself, turning the moan into a battle cry and extracting his katana.

    As expected, there was movement, an attack.

    He darted back into open space and turned on the right-side samurai, who had no choice but to halt his own charge forward and adopt a defensive posture.

    ¡®Hold back, hold,¡¯ said the yellow-patterned samurai, closing the distance from the middle. ¡®He¡¯s desperate, don¡¯t fall for his tricks. Protect the kitchen exit.¡¯

    Both samurai nodded, as the fallen one clutched his stomach wound and made groaning sounds.

    Kuso¡­stalemate again, thought Akira, the throbbing pain in his wrist making it harder and harder to keep his katana steady.

    Which in this case meant death.

    Cos there¡¯s no way I¡¯m beating three of them.

    Not in this state.

    ¡®You¡¯re done, ashigaru,¡¯ said the yellow-coated samurai, flicking a hand at the other two and moving forward. ¡®You and your weird green blade.¡¯

    ¡®Still got the gods,¡¯ replied Akira, his katana finally giving up and dropping.

    ¡®Do you now¡­¡¯

    ¡®Some of them.¡¯

    ¡®How about you introduce them to us?¡¯

    ¡®Yeah.¡¯

    Akira tried to raise the katana back up, but it wouldn¡¯t budge.

    ¡®We¡¯re waiting¡­¡¯

    ¡®Give it a few seconds.¡¯

    ¡®For¡­?¡¯

    The question wasn¡¯t left hanging long as the samurai to the right let out a shriek and then plunged face-first onto the tatami. In the space behind him was Miho, staring in surprise at the portable lantern in his own hand.

    ¡®Fucking madman¡­¡¯ Akira said, his voice almost cracking in elation.

    ¡®Couldn¡¯t find Aya¡­¡¯ Miho mumbled, for some reason addressing the yellow-patterned samurai.

    ¡®Who are you, boy?¡¯

    It was said in such a genuine, sharp tone that Akira almost didn¡¯t notice the slight flicker of the yellow-patterned samurai¡¯s left thumb¡­

    Pivoting left and raising his green katana up in vague defence, Akira knew straight away he was done. The samurai to the left had moved too fast, swatting away Akira¡¯s katana then jabbing forward. Somehow, with almost preternatural instinct, Akira managed to dodge the blow, swerving to the right¡­but his opponent seemed to half-expect this as he ditched his sword and hit Akira with a left hand to the gut, and then a swift follow up to the back of the skull.

    Miho was still glaring at the portable lantern he¡¯d just used to crack the invader over the head, and when the yellow-patterned samurai walked over to him, he held it up again and mumbled a genuine, ¡®sorry.¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯re with him? The ashigaru?¡¯

    ¡®What? No, I was just-¡­¡¯

    The yellow-patterned samurai let Miho get as far as the no then kicked him in the shin.

    Miho dropped the lantern and bent over, rubbing his leg and saying, ¡®why there?¡¯ as the samurai brought his katana guard down on the side of his temple.

    The tatami welcomed Miho into unconsciousness, his head landing on the samurai¡¯s foot before being quickly shaken off.

    Satisfied, the yellow-patterned samurai moved over to his fallen comrade, who was still busy acting out his death throes, and told him to die with honour.

    Nodding, the injured man reduced his groaning to muffled grunts.

    ¡®Is he out?¡¯ the yellow-patterned samurai asked, joining his other comrade, who had his foot pressed down hard on Akira¡¯s sword hand.

    ¡®I think he¡¯s pretending.¡¯

    ¡®Agreed.¡¯

    Pointing the tip of his katana at Akira¡¯s neck, he waited for the ashigaru¡¯s eyes to open. And they did. Along with a groaned slur of, ¡®nice signalling.¡¯

    ¡®Practised.¡¯

    ¡®Lucky too.¡¯

    ¡®How so?¡¯

    ¡®If you¡¯d killed me outright, you wouldn¡¯t have known about the money.¡¯ Akira raised a trembling left hand and tried to point it across the lobby. ¡®The box¡­¡¯

    ¡®Has about twenty mon inside,¡¯ the yellow-patterned samurai finished, making a small cut on Akira¡¯s neck. ¡®If you haven¡¯t stolen it already.¡¯

    ¡®No, no¡­much more than twenty¡­the owner of this place, she was rich, really, the daughter of-¡­¡¯

    ¡®Is there anything honourable you wish to say, before your end?¡¯

    Akira opened his mouth, but an abrupt wailing noise from the dying samurai nearby took the words out of his head.

    Doesn¡¯t matter, he thought, staring up at the two wobbly faces. This yellow guy looks like he hates money anyway. And ashigaru too. Probably better if I just close my eyes.

    Akira let out a long breath and closed his eyes. Pictured Himiko¡¯s arm disintegrating, the green demon biting into his skull, his dear Asami doing her salt merchant impression, Miho holding that spoon. Then opened them again and told the yellow samurai to go fuck himself.

    ¡®Typical ashigaru¡­¡¯ the yellow-patterned samurai said back, slapping his neck in annoyance, swaying a little¡­then stumbling backwards like a lush into the desk two feet behind him.

    Channelling Miho¡¯s performance in the onsen room, Akira stared forward in a gormless state, watching as the yellow-patterned samurai slid lethargically down the side of the desk, then passed out with his neck at [what had to be] a very uncomfortable angle.

    Turning to the last remaining enemy, Akira flicked the lights back on and scrambled for a plan of attack. His hand was still pinned down, the green katana out of reach, too far to the-¡­

    Akira stopped, feeling the weight on his wrist vanish as the samurai who¡¯d knocked him down went through the same routine as his comrade. Slapping his neck, stumbling backwards, and flailing around awkwardly as he lost consciousness with his face in the dying samurai¡¯s gut wound.

    ¡®This is not-¡­¡¯

    Akira forgot the word real as he pulled himself partially up and crawled over to his katana. Barely able to grip it with his mangled wrist, he straightened up and staggered back to the yellow-patterned samurai.

    ¡®Tell it to the gods, comrade,¡¯ he said, checking that the other three were really all down, then sliding his stained blade into the man¡¯s heart.

    A sudden arm spasm from the samurai made Akira jump a little, but that was probably down to adrenaline, and he was careful not to repeat it as he made the rounds to finish off the other three.

    ¡®What a night¡­¡¯ he said, dropping his katana next to the last guy¡¯s legs and collapsing on the futon near the door.

    Something buzzed near his neck, forcing him to slap at the nick the yellow-patterned samurai had made. Not as bad as it could¡¯ve been though. The green demon and these bastards¡­.with their obvious, overly-rehearsed moves and¡­

    His whole body folded.

    Energy gone in a flash.

    Like a skin of nothing but air and alarm, he fumbled sideways, forwards, falling frantic down onto a stained patch of tatami.

    ¡®Kuso¡­¡¯ he managed, eyes and brain blinking out.

 Chapter 19: Picking Up The Pieces [And Robbing The Corpses]

    ~~~

    Following a stream of blood up the steps and into the ryokan, a bold mosquito buzzed aimlessly around the ceiling beams then, when it was certain there was no trap, made a spiral dive towards the leg of the nearest corpse.

    Amazed at its own good fortune, the little pest gorged briefly on the all-you-can-eat-leftovers before spying a fresher leg and shifting there, its small body [and wings] in blood heaven¡­before being crushed, out of nowhere, by a descending God hand.

    ¡®Wake up,¡¯ said Aya, wiping the mosquito stain on her yukata and then leaning down to shake Miho.

    ¡®Garrrr¡­¡¯ came from his lips and little else.

    ¡®Not garrrr, open your eyes, you lazy-¡­¡¯

    ¡®How long?¡¯ said another, deeper voice, prompting her to spin round and point the katana she¡¯d taken from one of the dead samurai at the new arrival.

    Wah escaped from the thin line gap between her frozen lips.

    ¡®Yeah, wah to you too.¡¯ Akira looked briefly at the tip of the blade about a metre from his face then continued rubbing his wrist.

    ¡®You¡¯re alive,¡¯ Aya muttered, lowering the sword a little.

    ¡®What time is it?¡¯

    ¡®¡­and they¡¯re all dead.¡¯

    Finishing with the wrist massage, Akira used his good hand to pull himself up onto his feet, grabbed his green-stained katana and surveyed the scene. Just as he remembered, everyone dead. Apart from him. Somehow.

    ¡®¡­fourteen of them, watch out, knives,¡¯ rambled Miho suddenly, his whole body shooting up and scaring Aya so much that she clipped the side of his forearm with her blade.

    ¡®Wah!¡¯ she yelled, dropping the katana, rushing forward to the wound.

    ¡®What the¡­¡¯ mumbled Miho, dabbing the tiny line of blood with his finger.

    ¡®Are you okay? I didn¡¯t mean to-¡­you scared me, thought you were half dead. Kuso. Does it hurt?¡¯

    Miho closed his eyes, swayed a little, then let the light back in and looked up. Akira was staring down at him, head tilted either in disapproval or bafflement.

    ¡®How the hell did you survive that?¡¯ he asked.

    ¡®The fight?¡¯

    ¡®Thought for sure you got stabbed.¡¯

    ¡®No. Just fell over¡­I think.¡¯ Miho checked the rest of his yukata for damage, finding only a few tears and zygote holes. ¡®Not stabbed.¡¯

    ¡®Survive what?¡¯ shouted Aya, ripping a bit of cloth from a nearby cleaning rag and tying it round Miho¡¯s cut. ¡®What happened down here? Where¡¯s Himiko?¡¯

    Akira swatted away the questions and moved towards the nearest corpse, Bending down, he rummaged through the man¡¯s d¨­buku, then his yukata underneath, and came back out with a small bag of coins.

    ¡®Magical,¡¯ he said, spilling them out onto the floor. ¡®Enough here to get half a cup of flavoured water.¡¯

    ¡®Hey, what are you doing?¡¯ asked Aya, standing up, the cleaning rag still in her hand.

    ¡®Spoils of war.¡¯

    ¡®What? There¡¯s only four of them¡­¡¯

    ¡®War. Skirmish. Survival.¡¯ Akira put the coins back in the small bag and carried on to the next corpse. ¡®Judging by your face, and the lack of vomit, I reckon these are not the first dead bodies you¡¯ve seen.¡¯

    Aya gripped the cleaning rag tight and watched as Akira went through the pockets of the dead samurai who¡¯d complimented him the previous night.

    ¡®It¡¯s okay, he didn¡¯t start it,¡¯ said Miho, using the table as leverage to pull himself up next to her. ¡®They came in, attacked us. Said Akira was a dead man for¡­some reason. I can¡¯t remember exactly.¡¯

    ¡®For being a thief?¡¯

    ¡®Watch your words, little one,¡¯ said Akira, already onto the next corpse.

    Aya tightened the cleaning rag in her hand, glancing down at the katana she¡¯d dropped. Kuso. Why wasn¡¯t she holding that?

    ¡®No, no¡­it really wasn¡¯t his fault,¡¯ continued Miho. ¡®There was a demon in that luxury room, it tried to kill us. Tried to eat my cheek. He was just protecting himself.¡¯

    ¡®By killing all four of them?¡¯

    ¡®I¡­can¡¯t remember. There was one he slashed in the stomach¡­after that¡­I¡¯m not sure.¡¯

    ¡®Actually, the last two dropped of their own accord,¡¯ said Akira, taking a silver ring off the third samurai. ¡®Just passed out on the spot. Very strange.¡¯

    ¡®You didn¡¯t kill them?¡¯

    ¡®Same thing happened to me too, I guess. No, I did. Managed to stab them before I faded out. Luckily for us.¡¯

    ¡®But¡­¡¯ Miho stammered, running his still slightly blurred vision over the four corpses, the last of which - the one with the yellow-patterned d¨­buku - was now being defiled by Akira¡¯s busy hands. Or his busy left hand. ¡®They were knocked out already¡­¡¯

    ¡®Yes, my favourite type of opponent. Second favourite, drunkards.¡¯

    Another but formed on Miho¡¯s lips, but it didn¡¯t get any further than that as Aya pulled on his yukata sleeve and asked again where Himiko was.

    ¡®Err¡­the ryokan owner?¡¯

    ¡®Wah, how hard did you get hit? Yes, Himiko. Our boss. The woman who¡¯s going to kill all of us for this mess.¡¯

    ¡®I doubt that,¡¯ said Akira, rising back to his feet with a long strip of belt cord, and then spitting on the samurai who¡¯d just donated it.

    ¡®What do you mean? Where is she?¡¯

    ¡®Scattered about.¡¯

    Aya backed up into Miho, dropping the rag and gripping both his sleeves. ¡®He killed her too?¡¯ she asked, as hushed as she could make it.

    ¡®Err¡­not exactly. It¡¯s quite hard to explain.¡¯

    ¡®Forget about that traitorous nut, she¡¯s gone,¡¯ continued Akira, stretching out the cord, nodding at its length. ¡®The most important thing now is finding the coins she tucked away. And then getting the fuck out of here before more competent samurai arrive.¡¯

    ¡®Gone where?¡¯

    ¡®Though¡­if back-up hasn¡¯t arrived yet¡­that probably means there was no auxiliary support. In which case¡­a day for their absence to become suspicious, less if it was an urgent mission, half a day to send more men.¡¯ Akira clapped his hands together, wincing in pain as his right wrist folded a little. ¡®I believe, girls and boys, we might just have time for some light breakfast.¡¯

    ¡®Miho, where has she gone?¡¯ Aya asked again, her eyes alternating between Miho and Akira.

    ¡®I told you¡­it¡¯s hard to explain.¡¯

    ¡®Try.¡¯

    ¡®She¡­was in the cabin up there¡­and there was a swirling light circle thing¡­and she tried to go through, like the green demon guy did, but¡­¡¯

    Akira laughed, ripping the case off one of the larger futon sofa cushions. ¡®Fuck explanations, just show her. The arm should still be up there, if my memory¡¯s working right.¡¯

    ¡®Her what?¡¯

    ¡®Or a fairly large piece of it.¡¯

    Aya turned to Miho, her head swaying. ¡®What is he talking about?¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­¡¯

    ¡®Just go up there, show her.¡¯ Akira threw the samurai belt cord on the table then sat down and started folding the cushion case. ¡®Give me some peace while I fix this splint on.¡¯

    ¡®Show me what?¡¯ asked Aya, watching Akira do his nurse impression.

    ¡®Go, go. Quickly. Stop gawping.¡¯

    ¡®To where?¡¯Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ~~~

    A short while later, Miho stood pointing like one of those lunatic forest prophets at a chunk of cave wall, the same spot where the red spider lily, and most of Himiko, had evaporated right in front of their eyes.

    ¡®That¡¯s where she vanished,¡¯ he said, turning back to Aya, hoping his facial expression was as sincere as his brain claimed.

    ¡®Vanished¡­¡¯

    ¡®Yeah. Sort of.¡¯

    ¡®That ashigaru thug said her arm was here¡­¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­bits of it. Maybe.¡¯

    Aya touched her own forearm, the puzzle clearly being pieced together internally without the need for what or huh or you mean it disintegrated?

    ¡®I¡¯m not sure, really. It all happened really fast. I ran in and¡­the red spiral light thing was already closing. Then Himiko just¡­went with it¡­vanished.¡¯

    ¡®What was it¡­this red light thing?¡¯

    ¡®No idea. It just¡­sort of functioned like¡­a door or something¡­or a tunnel leading somewhere.¡¯

    ¡®How did it open?¡¯

    ¡®I don¡¯t know. It just-¡­¡¯ Miho stepped forward and placed his palm flat on the wall face. ¡®It was right here¡­swirling.¡¯

    ¡®A red light door thing?¡¯

    Miho opened his mouth to say yeah, but was interrupted by a sudden rush of wind through the cave tunnel, followed swiftly by a vibration on the cave rock.

    He drew his hand back, accidentally clipping Aya on her hip, and then stumbled back a few more steps as the cave wall morphed once more into a red spiral, spider lily, light thing.

    ¡®What did you do?¡¯ asked Miho to Aya¡¯s hand gripping his wrist.

    ¡®Me? You touched it¡­¡¯

    The spiral tripled in size, growing out from the cave wall while also pushing visibly inwards the other way¡­like a tunnel to somewhere. Vibrant, chaotic noise swirled around it, like wind mixed with static and intermittent panpipe melodies, and something about this sound soothed Miho and loosened his limbs and started to reel him in, silently promising him serenity and boxes of wondrous things he would be unable to comprehend and

    it was so relaxing

    so gentle

    that he gave himself over completely

    legs shuffling forward towards the reddish light

    eyes squinting at what looked like pale red orbs floating on passageway walls on the other side of the-

    ¡®Back¡­¡¯ shouted Aya, yanking his yukata sleeve so hard that they both tumbled downwards onto the cave floor.

    ¡®Where¡­¡¯ muttered Miho, running his fingernails through the dirt then turning back to the light.

    It was half the size of its siren form now

    then a quarter

    then nothing more than a particle of air-dust as the red swirls dissipated into nothingness and the cave wall returned to its stable, quotidian state.

    ¡®It was calling to me¡­¡¯ mumbled Miho, pulling himself up into a sitting position and reaching out towards the wall with one hand, yet, at the same time, allowing Aya¡¯s hand to hold him back by the yukata sleeve.

    ¡®Occult magic,¡¯ she whispered, then repeated the same thing louder.

    ¡®That was it. The thing that pulled in Himiko.¡¯

    ¡®Right next to the ryokan, all this time.¡¯

    ¡®I think it must be a door¡­of some kind.¡¯

    ¡®A curse more like.¡¯ She shivered, her hand letting go off Miho¡¯s yukata. ¡®I can¡¯t stay anymore. Not with this here.¡¯

    Miho looked at her, the tear running down her rigidly determined face. Part of him thought of saying, let¡¯s try to open it again, see if we can pass through, but another part, the one who¡¯d been swindled by the belt merchant, slapped him hard and screamed, are you out of your fucking village idiot mind?

    The slapping part was probably right, it had sucked in Himiko, dismantled her, and there was a fair chance it was built to do that, to tempt in new flesh, like the voice he felt calling to him, soothing him enough to get him to the light.

    A tactic that would¡¯ve worked if Aya hadn¡¯t been there.

    ¡®Are you coming or not?¡¯ she asked, already a few steps down the tunnel, her fingers resting on one of the green mineral fragments.

    He stared back at her, vaguely nodding.

    ¡®Is that a yes?¡¯

    ¡®Yes. Coming.¡¯

    ¡®Good.¡¯

    ~~~

    Back in the ryokan, Akira was deep in detective mode.

    Perched on the edge of the futon sofa near the front window, a cup of green tea in his freshly splinted hand, he scanned the reception area, going over every single piece of decoration and furniture.

    The paintings had seemed like the obvious choices, but he¡¯d pulled them all apart and ripped up the rice paper canvases and¡­nothing.

    Not even a note to say ha, wrong place.

    Next guess was the floorboards, but they were pinned down too tight to lift up with any kind of regularity.

    Of course, the ryokan funds could be somewhere else entirely¡­in which case, he was just wasting his time.

    The follow-up batch of Shingen samurai would be there the next morning, at the earliest, and it would take more than a day to do a complete search.

    No, more than that, probably a whole week.

    He drank some of his tea, cursing himself for not getting to know Himiko better before her disintegration act. That way he would¡¯ve had some clues to go on at least.

    Outside, there were footsteps on the wooden welcome steps, and he had just enough time to take his feet off the table before Aya and Miho came traipsing back in, both looking like they¡¯d just seen a naked pensioner.

    ¡®Convincing trip?¡¯ he asked, after dismissing the more generic what happened?

    ¡®It appeared again,¡¯ said Miho, stopping at the entrance and resting one hand on top of the okiandon. ¡®The red light thing.¡¯

    ¡®Wah¡­how?¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t know. I just touched the wall and¡­it appeared.¡¯

    ¡®Well¡­that¡¯s something.¡¯ Akira took another sip of tea, flinching in surprise as Aya sat down next to him. ¡®Though, on the business side of things¡­a ryokan with a secret light tunnel¡­could be a real winner.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m not staying,¡¯ Aya muttered, tugging at the sleeve of her staff-issue yukata.

    ¡®That unsettling, huh?¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, and creepy too,¡¯ replied Miho, toying with the rim of the okiandon. ¡®There was this voice in my head, calling me to go in¡­and I would¡¯ve done, if Aya hadn¡¯t dragged me back.¡¯

    ¡®Maybe it heard about your belt merchant adventure?¡¯

    ¡®Yeah¡­sorry, what?¡¯

    ¡®Or maybe it¡¯s that green fucker who tried to eat your head, lurking on the other side, trying to get back in. Who knows? Bigger point is, we¡¯re all getting out of here, right now.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m going alone,¡¯ said Aya, more to her yukata than the others.

    ¡®Sure, if you want to get raped and murdered by bandits, good idea. Luckily, you¡¯re quite cute in a sullen pet kind of way, and I owe this gormless lunatic my life so¡­gang of three it is.¡¯

    ¡®I think I prefer the bandits.¡¯

    Akira smiled, then turned it into a full-throated laugh that made him spill the remains of his tea. ¡®Kuso¡­I was looking forward to drinking that.¡¯

    ¡®You can come with me,¡¯ said Miho, digging his fingernail into the wood of the okiandon. ¡®I¡¯m heading north through Shinano.¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t be a peasant,¡¯ cut in Akira, standing up and putting his d¨­buku back on. ¡®The two of you together wouldn¡¯t last an hour.¡¯

    ¡®Okay,¡¯ replied Aya, moving her head left so she could give a small supplementary nod to Miho.

    ¡®Really?¡¯

    ¡®No,¡¯ barked Akira, startling Miho so much that his hand slipped, knocking the okiandon over on its side and making its refill drawer slide out.

    ¡®Wait-¡­¡¯

    ¡®Is that-¡­¡¯

    ¡®Right next to the front fucking door.¡¯ Akira bent down next to the drawer and picked up the small box that had spilled out. Shook it and smiled at the resulting sound of clinking coins. ¡®Himiko, you little tease¡­¡¯

    ¡®You can¡¯t take that,¡¯ said Aya, edging over from the futon sofa.

    ¡®Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll leave you the box.¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s not yours.¡¯

    ¡®Yet here it is in my hands. Sure you don¡¯t want to come with me?¡¯

    ¡®She¡¯s right,¡¯ said Miho, crouching down a little too close to Akira and instantly getting a reflex hand on his throat.

    ¡®Don¡¯t do that.¡¯

    ¡®What¡­¡¯ stuttered Miho, trying to get Akira¡¯s claw-like hand off.

    ¡®Sudden movements.¡¯

    ¡®I didn¡¯t-¡­¡¯

    ¡®Get off him, dog,¡¯ said Aya, picking up a katana next to one of the dead samurai.

    Akira glanced over, making a tutting sound, then awkwardly pulled his yukata open with his sling hand. ¡®Think you can hit an organ?¡¯

    ¡®I mean it.¡¯

    Akira smiled and looked down at his chest. ¡®Lungs or stomach if you really want me to suffer.¡¯

    ¡®Let him go.¡¯

    ¡®But you¡¯re gonna have to hold the blade up a bit first.¡¯

    Aya heard the words, and instantly corrected her pose. Then took a step forward.

    ¡®Okay, okay¡­on the off chance you¡¯re that petty¡­¡¯

    The smile faded and the ashigaru looked back at Miho, told him to move more carefully in future then let go. And added a little consolation pat on the shoulder.

    ¡®Wah¡­my throat¡­¡¯

    ¡®You okay, Miho?¡¯

    ¡®He¡¯s fine,¡¯ grunted Akira, shaking the box drawer. ¡®Barely even touched him.¡¯

    ¡®What happened¡­to owing me¡­your life?¡¯

    ¡®Exactly.¡¯

    ¡®Huh?¡¯

    Akira didn¡¯t bother responding, he was too busy yanking open the box.

    ¡®Can¡¯t trust ashigaru,¡¯ said Aya, finally lowering the blade. ¡®All they care about is themselves. And money.¡¯

    ¡®Akira...¡¯

    The ashigaru repeated money under his breath and stared blankly at the contents of the box. He stayed that way for almost a full minute before picking up the box and throwing it across the lobby floor.

    Several pieces of what looked like scrap metal spilled out, making Aya frown and drop the katana back down on to the corpse.

    ¡®Fucking done with this place,¡¯ said Akira, striding over to the main desk and picking up a bag, then coming back for his green katana. ¡®Scam money, scam ryokan, scam owners, scam¡­everything. Last chance to come with me if you¡¯re going.¡¯

    ¡®Serious? You just tried to strangle Miho.¡¯

    ¡®Simple misunderstanding. And nothing compared to what the bandits will do if they get hold of you.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m not scared of them.¡¯

    ¡®Only because they¡¯re not standing here right now. Wait until night falls and you don¡¯t know where the hell you are.¡¯

    ¡®We¡¯ll hide from them.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, how?¡¯

    ¡®In the forest.¡¯

    ¡®Stealth camping? Without a fire, you¡¯ll freeze. Or get eaten by a bear.¡¯

    ¡®Then we¡¯ll stay in the next town we come to. Fujimi.¡¯

    ¡®With what money?¡¯

    ¡®Savings.¡¯

    ¡®How much you got?¡¯

    ¡®Enough.¡¯

    Akira walked over to the entrance, stopping next to Miho. ¡®She speak for you too?¡¯

    ¡®I suppose¡­¡¯

    ¡®Really? You¡¯re choosing a pretty face over guaranteed protection?¡¯

    Miho looked down at the mess that was the okiandon and mumbled an apologetic yes.

    ¡®Ah, useless¡­the both of you.¡¯

    Slinging the bag over his shoulder, and then shifting it back down to his left hand when it felt uncomfortable, Akira kicked the door with his foot and headed out.

    A chicken made a clucking noise in the courtyard and was quickly silenced. Then other chickens launched into a chorus and were told to go drown in the fucking river.

    Exchanging glances, Aya moved over to Miho and helped him pick up the okiandon.

    ¡®He¡¯s exaggerating¡­¡¯ she said, touching his wrist.

    ¡®If we take the main road, it should be okay.¡¯

    ¡®Exactly.¡¯

    ¡®And there are still two of us.¡¯

    ¡®With katanas.¡¯

    Miho nodded, looking at the nearest blade and the four corpses dotted around with dried-up stab wounds.

    ¡®Do you know how to use one?¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­point and stab?¡¯

    ¡®That¡¯s about my level too.¡¯

    She let out a tiny laugh and he mimicked it.

    Outside, the chickens started clucking again as a shadow blocked out the doorway and a slightly irritated voice said, ¡®I¡¯m not joking about those bandits, you will not survive them¡­¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯re still here?¡¯ asked Miho, squinting at the shape of Akira.

    ¡®¡­and you¡¯re picking up that okiandon, for some unknown reason. Come on, get your stuff, if you have any. We¡¯re leaving.¡¯

    ¡®We¡¯re going alone, not-¡­¡¯ started Aya, but was checked by a raised finger.

    ¡®No debate.¡¯

    ¡®¡­with you.¡¯

    ¡®Miho¡¯s bodyguard has spoken. And as you¡¯re clinging to his arm, you fall under the same umbrella. Unless you wander off too far, then you¡¯re on your own.¡¯

    Aya looked at Miho and then at the four corpses. Then at the ryokan that was ostensibly her home. Then at the corpses again.

    ¡®He is a good fighter,¡¯ said Miho, putting his hand on hers.

    ¡®Cunning,¡¯ corrected Akira, tapping the doorframe.

    ¡®And I have saved his life twice.¡¯

    ¡®You think that means anything to him?¡¯ whispered Aya, pulling her hand gently away.

    Miho looked at his now lonely fingers, and ran through several different versions of I don¡¯t know. Finally, he settled for something a little more positive, perhaps undeserved. ¡®I think so. Yes.¡¯

    ¡®Look, are you going to let me save your lives or not?¡¯ shouted Akira from the doorway.

    ¡®Fine,¡¯ said Aya, standing up. ¡®We¡¯ll go with you as far as Fujimi.¡¯

    ¡®A sensible choice. Bags?¡¯

    Miho stood up, looking over at the entrance to the cabins.

    ¡®You¡¯ve got five minutes. Both of you.¡¯ Another clucking noise from outside, making Akira flinch. ¡®I¡¯ll be outside kicking that chicken.¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t¡­¡¯ said Aya, moving to the doorway.

    ¡®Kicking, not killing.¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s Himiko¡¯s pet. Not livestock.

    Akira rested his good arm on his cushion case splint, breathing out loud. ¡®Okay. I¡¯ll be outside cradling that chicken. Better?¡¯

 Chapter 20: On The Road Without Actually Being On It

    ~~~

    In stark contrast to the peace and solitude of the ryokan lobby massacre site, the road beyond the Jewel of Kai was annoyingly loud.

    Various birds communicating in their private chirp code, elderly couples sitting outside occasional shacks, shouting ¡®what?¡¯ at each other, travellers and salt merchants singing songs from their home provinces.

    Of course, it didn¡¯t stay loud for long as Akira quickly took them off the road and onto the slopes of the west-side mountains. Apparently, it was the practice of Shingen the Elder to place a small platoon past an ambush site, in case the initial assault failed and the targets fled. And if the father had done it, the usurper son might too.

    ¡®Why didn¡¯t we go off road sooner then?¡¯ asked Aya, shifting the medium-sized bag with all her belongings onto her other shoulder.

    ¡®Cos my head¡¯s still hurting.¡¯

    ¡®Huh?¡¯

    ¡®And it¡¯s early. Can never think straight until at least lunch time, and that¡¯s without all the shit that¡¯s happened the last few days.¡¯

    ¡®You mean our self-appointed bodyguard messed up?¡¯

    Akira stopped, reaching for the guard of his katana with his splint hand then quickly re-adjusting to his left.

    ¡®It¡¯s okay, she was joking,¡¯ said Miho quickly, but was silenced by a finger [and the splint] to Akira¡¯s lips.

    ¡®Typical ashigaru,¡¯ muttered Aya, trying to walk on ahead and immediately stepping on a twig.

    In the nearby bushes, something moved.

    Pulling his katana halfway out, Akira breathed out a sharp kuso as a fox poked its nose through the leaves¡­and then quickly retreated back into the greenery when it saw three humans gawping at it.

    ¡®You¡¯re not gonna chase it down?¡¯ asked Aya, smirking.

    Akira re-sheathed his blade, muttering irritant under his breath.

    Miho pulled close and nudged her in the side.

    ¡®What?¡¯

    ¡®Try to be less aggravating,¡¯ he whispered.

    ¡®I am.¡¯

    ¡®Try harder.¡¯

    ¡®What, like he is?¡¯

    Miho didn¡¯t know what to say to that, so he stared down into his basket instead. It wasn¡¯t anywhere near dinner time yet, or even lunch, but he would have to pick some vegetables at some point. In case they couldn¡¯t find anywhere to stay later. Which was a fair bet considering Akira¡¯s katana and Aya¡¯s hawkish attitude.

    ¡®Okay, children,¡¯ said Akira, itching under his splint. ¡®We take a staggered route towards Fujimi, but not too far from the road. Hopefully, there¡¯ll be a house we can find shelter at somewhere on the fringes.¡¯

    ¡®Or we could just take the road and be there in about three hours?¡¯

    ¡®I told you already, it¡¯s too risky.¡¯

    ¡®And this way isn¡¯t?¡¯

    Akira stared at her for a long time, fingers hovering near his belt, before finally replying with an almost syllable-less, ¡®no.¡¯

    ~~~

    After more than an hour of trekking through dense forest and the occasional sloped clearing, Miho stopped and jangled his basket, telling everyone it was time for lunch.

    ¡®The food¡¯s in our bags,¡¯ said Akira, dropping his sack next to a crooked cedar tree and sliding down the trunk into a sitting position.

    ¡®I know.¡¯

    ¡®Then why are you shaking the basket?¡¯

    ¡®A symbol¡­for lunch.¡¯

    Akira glanced at Aya, who was smirking and dusting something off her yukata sleeve, but stopped instantly when she saw Akira doing the same. Dumping her things on the grass, she sat down with knees raised high, keeping her bag propped up in front as a shield.

    Seeing that his motion had passed, Miho found a decent halfway point between the two rivals and planted himself down.

    ¡®How much longer is it to Fujimi?¡¯ he asked, pulling out some bread and a green bottle that looked like it had something exotic, but in fact contained only water from the river.

    Neither Aya nor Akira answered.

    Instead they chewed on their own bread and leftover f¨±ki, and stared at the scenery just past each other.

    Miho tried a few times to fill the silence, but it was tough as the only thing he could really talk about that wasn¡¯t related to the drama of the previous night was his childhood in the village and his wandering girlfriend, Yuki. And as soon as he mentioned either one, he could see eyes rolling on both sides.

    Finally, he went back to Fujimi, asking Akira what his plan was after that.

    ¡®Suwa,¡¯ was all he got in return.

    ¡®Will you be safe there?¡¯The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    ¡®Safer than I was last night.¡¯

    Aya drank some water from her bottle, then put the stopper back in. Then pulled it out. Then rubbed it round the rim of the bottle.

    ¡®Last night in Room 28,¡¯ Akira added, keeping his own bottle still at his side.

    ¡®What exactly happened in there?¡¯ Aya asked, her tone quite odd.

    ¡®You¡¯re pretending you don¡¯t know?¡¯

    ¡®I don¡¯t.¡¯

    ¡®Then why did you try to warn us not to go in there?¡¯

    ¡®I warned Miho, not you.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, great. Why?¡¯

    ¡®Gut feeling.¡¯

    ¡®That¡¯s it?¡¯

    Aya drank more from her bottle, spilling some water out as she brought it back down to her lap.

    ¡®And where were you when those four assassins came in? Hiding in your room? Waiting for Himiko to come back?¡¯

    ¡®I have trouble sleeping.¡¯

    ¡®That makes no sense,¡¯ replied Akira, squinting at something in the liquid of his bottle.

    ¡®Does to me. I take a drink before I sleep, puts me out all night.¡¯

    ¡®Wondrous. And where is this magical elixir now?¡¯

    ¡®At the ryokan. I forgot to bring it.¡¯

    ¡®How convenient.¡¯

    ¡®Not really, cos tonight I won¡¯t be able to sleep. Big brain man.¡¯

    Miho held up his basket again, and looked at Aya. ¡®How about we go and collect some vegetables? Seems like a good area for it.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m not done yet,¡¯ said Akira, rotating the rim of his bottle with the top of his finger.

    ¡®Come on, she just told you, she was sleeping. Stop being so paranoid about everything.¡¯

    Akira started to laugh, performing a mock clapping motion on his sling. ¡®Very impressive¡­¡¯

    ¡®We¡¯re all on the same side here.¡¯

    ¡®¡­the boy who lost all his money to a belt merchant, lecturing others on the dangers of scepticism.¡¯

    Miho looked down at his belt, as if the thing itself were guilty of betraying him, then packed the food scraps into his bag and stood up.

    Aya followed suit, keeping her water bottle out.

    ¡®Ah, now it¡¯s a whole afternoon of sulking, is it?¡¯ asked Akira, pushing his back up the trunk until he was standing again.

    ¡®I¡¯m not sulking, I¡¯m annoyed.¡¯ Miho turned and looked Akira dead in the eyes, then shifted to the neck when the ashigaru stared back. ¡®The belt thing was a one-off. And balanced out by the fact that I saved your life¡­twice. And Aya warned us not to go to that room, you know that, you were there, so you can stop picking on her too.¡¯

    Akira kept staring at the young lunatic, his expression neither fierce nor friendly, not really anything, before, finally, grunting and traipsing off into the bushes ahead.

    ¡®We should detach,¡¯ said Aya, leaning in to Miho¡¯s shoulder and making sure to keep her voice very low, ¡®go down by ourselves to the main road.¡¯

    ¡®We can¡¯t.¡¯

    ¡®He¡¯s becoming unstable¡­¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s okay. He won¡¯t do anything.¡¯

    Aya coughed, the words belt merchant popping up in her head, followed by the image of the four dead samurai back at the ryokan.

    ¡®Just get to Fujimi first,¡¯ said Miho, patting her arm. ¡®Decide then.¡¯

    ¡®Okay. Fine. Fujimi.¡¯

    ¡®Come on, he¡¯s getting too far ahead.¡¯

    Miho hurried on through the trees, swatting some low-hanging branches out of the way and getting hit by one in revenge.

    ¡®If I end up with my head chopped off¡­¡¯ Aya muttered, swinging her bag back onto her shoulder and trailing reluctant steps after him.

    ~~~

    The rest of the afternoon went relatively smoothly.

    If smoothly were defined as abandoning the staggered approach to Fujimi and heading straight down to the main road seven times¡­then running back to the cedar trees on the slopes as soon as a random salt merchant passed by.

    Then switching back to the original strategy and stopping every five minutes to mistake animals chilling in bushes for murderous bandits.

    By the time the sun had sunk beyond the distant mountains, they were all exhausted and even Akira had no complaints when Aya suggested they knock on the next door they passed and ask nicely for a place to sleep.

    Soon enough, on the outskirts of Fujimi, they passed a small shack with a well-kept pond and stone garden outside, as well as an amateur-sculpted shrine right outside the entrance that, to all three of them, looked like a half-melted bear.

    ¡®Seems normal enough,¡¯ said Akira, straightening up and putting the good hand on his belt.

    In the trees, an unknown bird launched into something that sounded like a death squeal.

    ¡®Probably a mating call.¡¯

    ¡®Okay, remember,¡¯ cautioned Miho, addressing both Aya and Akira with equal face time. ¡®Ask politely, and respect them if they say no.¡¯

    ¡®They won¡¯t say no,¡¯ replied Akira, giving Miho a hard slap on his arm and moving forward towards the front door panel.

    ¡®Hang on¡­¡¯

    It was too late, the ashigaru had already knocked on the frame.

    ¡®This is not good,¡¯ Aya whispered, still gripping her water bottle, which had been empty for most of the afternoon.

    It took a while, but finally the panel slid open and a middle-aged woman with herb-dyed red hair grinned back at them. Then she did an actual scan of the three strangers in front of her and made an O shape with her lips.

    ¡®Matsu-Kun,¡¯ she shouted back into the shadows of the shack. ¡®Prepare the spare room, we have guests.¡¯

    ¡®I haven¡¯t said anything yet,¡¯ said Akira, bemused, left hand clinging tight to his belt.

    ¡®Come in, come in,¡¯ she replied, grabbing hold of his splint without any fear or trepidation at all, and yanking him forward so hard that he stumbled into her. ¡®It must be getting cold out. You two there, don¡¯t be shy, come in. Quickly, quickly.¡¯

    Miho glanced at Aya, who shrugged and gestured vaguely at the door with her bottle. ¡®You think it¡¯s okay?¡¯ he asked, hanging his head back to her as he walked in.

    ¡®Better than sleeping outside.¡¯

    ¡®She seems very friendly¡­¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, so?¡¯

    ¡®¡­just like that belt merchant.¡¯

    Aya frowned, looking ahead at the red-haired woman wrapping her arm around Akira¡¯s waist and inspecting his makeshift splint, then the equally good-spirited man stepping out of the shadows to greet her and Miho.

    ¡®Ah, and I thought it was going to be a quiet night,¡¯ he said, his long arms taking hold of their d¨­buku sleeves as if they¡¯d known each other for years. ¡®I¡¯m Matsu, and this is my wife, Miho.¡¯

    Aya laughed, she couldn¡¯t help it.

    ¡®A funny name?¡¯

    ¡®Familiar,¡¯ she replied.

    ¡®It¡¯s my name too,¡¯ said Miho, trying not to look at the huge red rash on the man¡¯s neck. ¡®For complicated reasons.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, unorthodox, I like it.¡¯ Matsu pushed away some red chimes hanging low from the ceiling and pulled them both in, placing them next to a stool just past the door. ¡®Sit down, take off your d¨­buku, your zori¡­your kosode if you like. Ha, I¡¯m joking, but, please, feel free to relax, there are no formalities here. Miho and I will go and prepare a nice hot meal, and then you can tell us all about yourselves. You too, young, pretty lady. And this fine, strapping warrior over here. Ah, an injury I see, a broken arm perhaps? Well, you must have many interesting tales to tell. Over a bottle of sh¨­ch¨±, of course. Miho, stop fondling the poor man and join me in the kitchen. The rest of you, relax, find a seat, please.¡¯

    Matsu held onto Aya¡¯s sleeve a moment longer, then switched to his wife¡¯s yukata and guided her away down the dark passageway to what was probably the kitchen.

    Taking the two stools, Miho and Aya took off their zori, while Akira checked the room nearby, his eyes shooting back constantly to the passageway.

    Satisfied that there was no immediate threat of ambush, he returned to Miho and Aya and crouched down next to the stools.

    ¡®Three possibilities. Higher-grade bandits luring us into a trap. Bored couple looking for group sex. Or a lunatic pair of superstitious types.¡¯

    ¡®Or just normal, friendly people,¡¯ said Aya, glancing at Miho.

    ¡®Yeah,¡¯ he replied, non-committal.

    ¡®If it¡¯s superstition, we say we¡¯re tired and sleep. Bandits, we check the alcohol, make them drink it too. Group sex¡­well, we¡¯re all adults.¡¯

    Miho and Aya both looked at the zori they¡¯d just removed.

    ¡®Ah, never mind, you two can pair up with each other. Or go take a walk outside. Gods, I hope they¡¯re not superstitious. Those are the worst kind.¡¯

    ¡®Worse than bandits?¡¯

    ¡®Much.¡¯

    Without any further elaboration, Akira walked off into the adjoining room, rubbing his hands.

    ¡®I¡¯m not sleeping anywhere near him,¡¯ muttered Aya, picking up her empty water bottle again.

    ¡®Me neither,¡¯ agreed Miho, jumping slightly at the loud whistling noise breaking out from the end of the corridor, which soon evolved into song.

    Just two incredibly jovial, ordinary people, he thought.

    Nothing suspicious about that.

 Chapter 21: Dinner With Mysteriously Happy Types

    ~~~

    Despite his apparent glee at what might lay ahead that night, Akira did keep enough of his head about him to do some basic survival checks.

    First, he followed the trail of the hosts into the kitchen and pretended to compliment the cedar talismans on the wall as he watched them prepare the food.

    Nothing untoward there, just Matsu sprinkling some diced herbs onto a glum-looking fish. And Miho tasting almost a full third of the soup she was boiling.

    Second, he took the bottle of sh¨­ch¨± off them at the dinner table and insisted on pouring out drinks for everyone.

    Matsu protested a little, but quickly gave up when he saw the first cup had already been done.

    Third, he tested both their reflexes by throwing chopsticks at them with his non-sling hand and saying, ¡®catch.¡¯

    Either they were extremely adept at performance art or they had no fighting instincts, as both responded with, ¡®sorry? as the chopsticks hit their yukatas and dropped onto the dining table.

    Satisfied on all levels, Akira took a cushion on the floor between the two Mihos and started to drink.

    ¡®That¡¯s your third cup,¡¯ said Aya, looking at him from the other side of the table, her body slanted diagonal to avoid the roaming hands of Matsu next to her.

    ¡®Fourth,¡¯ he corrected, downing the shot and pouring out another. ¡®Miho, Matsu?¡¯

    The female Miho finished what was left in her own cup then leaned down close to the surface of the table, watching the bottle with balloon eyes as it rose up and the sh¨­ch¨± trickled out.

    At the start of the meal, she¡¯d done a similar thing, and, even though she was clearly naked underneath, Akira had avoided looking down the loose front of her yukata, but now¡­

    It was quite odd.

    Her husband was sitting directly opposite, occasionally trying to fondle Aya, and she was next to him, basically advertising her breasts.

    What had they stumbled across?

    Sexual nihilists?

    Putting the bottle back on the table, he turned left to the more conservative [and less fun] Miho and asked if he¡¯d finished his drink yet.

    ¡®Eating,¡¯ he replied, which was the first word he¡¯d said in the last half an hour.

    ¡®You are very focused in it,¡¯ said Matsu, stabbing one of his chopsticks into the body of the fish and laughing as the chunk he pulled out crumbled into pieces. ¡®Ah, maybe I should do that too. Or I¡¯ll be going to bed light-headed.¡¯

    ¡®More sh¨­ch¨±?¡¯ asked his wife, holding up the bottle, trying to hold in her laugh.

    Matsu frowned back at her, then laughed again, pointing a chopstick across the table. ¡®Now I think about it¡­Miho is an odd name for a boy. How did you manage to attain it?¡¯

    ¡®Clerical error,¡¯ said Akira, flinching a little as the bottle landed hard on the table, and the female Miho blurted out a surprisingly shrill ¡®whoops.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, so you¡¯re his father then?¡¯

    ¡®What? No chance. Me?¡¯

    ¡®His uncle?¡¯

    ¡®Brother more like,¡¯ added the female Miho, adjusting the bottle into a standing position even though it was already stable. ¡®Tell me, how many men have you fought with that magical green katana of yours? Fifty? A hundred?¡¯

    ¡®You are mistaken,¡¯ replied Akira, glancing at the weapon propped up a little unorthodoxly in the doorway to the kitchen. ¡®I¡¯m a travelling merchant.¡¯

    ¡®Wah, a merchant. Not a warrior?¡¯

    ¡®In a former life, perhaps. But in this one, no, I merely transport salt.¡¯

    ¡®And your arm?¡¯

    ¡®Wrist sprain. From carrying too much salt.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, not a break,¡¯ said the female Miho, stroking along the underside of his splint. ¡®We may have some cream for that, somewhere around.¡¯

    ¡®Cream?¡¯

    ¡®In the bedroom perhaps.¡¯

    ¡®Would you be his apprentice then?¡¯ asked Matsu, turning all the way round to Aya and reaching a hand out towards her shoulder.

    She blocked it with a feigned grab for more fish and said, ¡®no, we are not with him.¡¯

    ¡®Yet you appeared at our door together.¡¯

    ¡®Coincidence,¡¯ said Akira quickly, flinching again as he felt the female Miho¡¯s hand slide under his yukata and onto his thigh. ¡®We met on the road¡­an hour before we came here. It was getting dark so¡­lots of bandits, safety, that kind of thinking.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, I think I understand now.¡¯ Matsu stabbed another piece of fish and this time managed to keep it together all the way to his mouth, where it paused, waiting for him to finish speaking. ¡®The two young ones here are lovers, on their way to a new town. And a new life. In an extremely spacious futon.¡¯

    ¡®Lovers? Interesting¡­¡¯ said the female Miho, smiling kindly at Aya as her hand came back up and poured out another two shots; one for herself, the other for the pretend salt merchant.

    ¡®It¡¯s not like that,¡¯ answered Aya, glancing at Miho.

    ¡®I already have a girlfriend,¡¯ he added, picking up some fish from his bowl and nibbling on it.

    ¡®And where is she now?¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t know. Somewhere near Shinano, I think.¡¯

    ¡®You think?¡¯

    ¡®The Shinano in his head,¡¯ interrupted Akira, taking his new shot of sh¨­ch¨± and then reeling back a bit. ¡®Wah, I felt that one. About fucking time.¡¯

    ¡®Well, if she¡¯s not nearby,¡¯ said Matsu, nudging with his face to the left, ¡®and you find that you have other possibilities. Very young, very well-crafted possibilities¡­¡¯

    Aya coughed, put her chopsticks down on the table, turned away from the sleaze who¡¯d allegedly made a marriage commitment at some point in his life and pulled herself up.

    ¡®Finished already?¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m going for a walk.¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t be silly, it¡¯s far too late for that.¡¯

    ¡®And dangerous too,¡¯ added the female Miho, pouring Akira another drink. ¡®There are bandits and wild animals that sometimes come down from the mountains.¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯ve had bandits before?¡¯ asked Akira, straightening up a bit.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    ¡®Not here, but close by.¡¯

    ¡®And they don¡¯t try to rob you?¡¯

    ¡®They wouldn¡¯t be that foolish,¡¯ interjected Matsu, tapping his chopstick on the table. ¡®It is a protected area, under the jurisdiction of the Suwa Clan. However, the forest and the slopes beyond, the side road¡­that is another matter. Which is why, young Aya, I insist that you go to your room. Assuming you really have finished with your meal?¡¯

    ¡®Fine. The room then. Where is it?¡¯

    ¡®The other side of the house, past the kitchen. I hope you don¡¯t mind, but there is only one room for guests and only one futon laid out on the tatami.¡¯

    ¡®One futon?¡¯

    ¡®Double-sized, but yes, only one. You will all have to share.¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s okay,¡¯ said Akira, taking his drink again. ¡®Miho can take the floor. Aya and I can cuddle up under the covers.¡¯

    ¡®The hell I will,¡¯ barked Aya, folding her arms.

    ¡®Cos you haven¡¯t drunk enough yet.¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯re disgusting.¡¯

    ¡®Half a bottle of sh¨­ch¨± down you and you¡¯ll be dragging me between those pretty long legs of yours¡­¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯d rather sleep in the river.¡¯

    ¡®Relax, I¡¯m joking. You¡¯re about the same age as one of my daughters.¡¯

    ¡®You have children?¡¯ asked Miho, coming back from staring at his fish.

    ¡®Probably. In a few places.¡¯

    Aya muttered something under her breath that wasn¡¯t as under as she thought then stormed off out of the room.

    ¡®Seems a bit unpredictable, that one,¡¯ said Matsu, stabbing another fish.

    ¡®Predictably stroppy,¡¯ muttered Akira, lifting up his cup and studying the liquid swirling within.

    ¡®She¡¯ll feel better after a good night¡¯s sleep, I¡¯m sure,¡¯ said the female Miho, rising from the table. ¡®Assuming she can find the room. Come, you two strapping men, let me show you the way to your double-sized futon. With a small diversion to my bedroom to check for that cream¡­¡¯

    Akira finished his drink and growled drunkenly, while Miho stared at the outstretched hand of his namesake, then the fixed smile on her face, and thought one clear thing: Himiko.

    Himiko and her green demon.

    But then the other side of his brain tagged in and it changed to Miho and Matsu, nice, helpful people, a little sleazy, a little odd, but nothing to fret about.

    As long as Akira kept his green katana close.

    ~~~

    A short while later, in a room with a second door panel that opened out onto a charming little stone garden, as well as a larger space beyond, Miho sat with his back against the interior wall, watching Akira use his splint arm to slap his own face.

    It was an odd performance ¨C and apparently what the ashigaru did when he was asleep and drunk ¨C but not enough to distract him from the thought of Aya being groped and beaten by bandits.

    An hour, maybe two and she still wasn¡¯t back from her impromptu walk.

    Had she got lost?

    Was she that averse to sleeping?

    She did say that she needed her pills to put her out all night, but did that mean she couldn¡¯t sleep at all without them?

    That was hard to believe.

    He shifted side on, facing the door panel leading outside. And Akira¡¯s moss-like katana propped up next to it.

    Should he go out, look for her?

    He would have to at some point, but how would he be able to find her? The area was brand new, a complete mystery to him¡­he could be wandering in the completely wrong direction and get ambushed by bandits himself. Or mauled by an incalcitrant bear.

    A sudden snoring noise broke out from Akira¡¯s nose, making Miho jump.

    The ashigaru briefly opened his eyes and slurred, ¡®let him watch,¡¯ then quickly went back to his personal Id-scape as if nothing had happened.

    Miho looked at Akira, now spread like a starfish across the only futon, and said, ¡®okay.¡¯

    Probably not a good idea to leave this guy all alone, but¡­better than sitting around and doing nothing.

    Besides, the other Miho might be in the passage outside, waiting for him to fall asleep too so she could come in and¡­do something to them.

    Or just to him.

    After all, Akira was in no shape to do anything. And he felt surprisingly sober, despite having had four cups of sh¨­ch¨±.

    Right on cue, there was a noise in the corridor, footsteps coming closer. Miho put both fists on the tatami, ready to spring up if the door panel slid open.

    But it didn¡¯t.

    The footsteps stopped¡­re-started¡­then faded out.

    Thanks the gods for that. Though¡­if that was the female Miho coming for covert sex¡­then where was her husband?

    Miho pulled himself up, pulling back scenes from the dinner earlier. He hadn¡¯t been a hundred per cent present mentally, but there were images of Aya leaning away from Matsu, swatting his hands as they tried to touch her on the arm or shoulder or other parts. Under the table parts perhaps¡­

    Kuso¡­

    Grabbing the katana, and telling an unconscious Akira he¡¯d bring it back soon, Miho tread quietly to the door panel and slid it open.

    The noise was minimal, and once he was in the garden, there were no problems at all; the nocturnal soundtrack covered almost every movement he made, especially the wildlife that constantly rustled the leaves of the bushes.

    Thanks little guys, he thought, hoping it wasn¡¯t that incalcitrant bear.

    Following the stone path out to the left, and then circling back round the house, he called out ¡®Aya?¡¯ in hushed tones towards the trees.

    There was no response except more frenzied rustling so he marked out a perimeter in his head and started walking further out.

    Two hundred metres was his rough limit, and he kept to it for almost an hour.

    After that, he trialled other possibilities.

    One, she¡¯d gone, fled, left them completely.

    Two, she was back in the room, and he¡¯d somehow missed her on his trails.

    Three, Her, Matsu and the other Miho were wrapped up together in some sexual free-for-all he didn¡¯t want to imagine.

    Four, bandits had got her.

    Stopping next to the melted bear shrine, he looked at the okiandon sitting by the front door of the house, still glowing.

    There were a few others he could think of ¨C including going back to the Jewel of Kai to commune with the ghost of Himiko - but the fourth was the one he was worried about as, even with the katana in his hand, what could he do about it?

    Bandits would be miles away by now, with no chance of him-¡­

    He paused, hearing the sliding crawl of a door opening.

    Was that-¡­

    The front door panel slid all the way to the side and, luckily for him, Matsu turned and said something back into the house. If he hadn¡¯t, Miho wouldn¡¯t have had time to run right and hide behind what he assumed was a wood storage shack.

    Voices drifted through the night air, the female Miho and Matsu briefly competing with the wildlife in the bushes then overwhelming them as their two shadowy figures stopped next to the same shack Miho was lurking behind.

    Kuso stormed through his head seven hundred times as another door opened, this one creaking, and then closed again.

    Then silence.

    Miho stayed crouched against the rear stone wall of the shack, in slight discomfort, but too confused to move.

    Had they just gone inside the wood shack?

    Both of them?

    A tiny little space like that?

    It didn¡¯t make much sense, unless¡­

    Gripping the guard of the katana, he poked his head round the side and breathed out another kuso when he saw the courtyard was clear.

    So they really were inside.

    He moved round and put his ear to the door, internally cursing at the sounds from the forest behind that wouldn¡¯t shut up.

    Okay, no voices that he could discern, no footsteps.

    Wait, was that-¡­

    The door wasn¡¯t latched so he pulled at it tentatively, then rested his head against the frame and stared forward.

    Ah, not a wood storage shack then.

    On the walls were candles, every third one lit, and beneath them was a staircase that seemed to curve down in a lethargic spiral, probably going all the way under the main house.

    Secret basements were never a good sign, he knew that from his own village ¨C Aiko the Sleaze, Spiritual Chiyo, Old Masa and his skeleton-lengthening experiments - but he still started down the steps as, if he didn¡¯t, Aya could be done for.

    Not that it was for certain she was down there, or that the female Miho and Matsu were doing anything malevolent, yet¡­

    He stopped, almost dropping the katana.

    Without any visual cue or warning, the staircase had come to an end, and now a small chamber with green rugs hung up on the wall was forcing itself upon him.

    Kuso, not green again.

    Not this soon.

    ¡®Aya,¡¯ he whispered blankly, his mind trying to decipher what he was seeing.

    To the left of him, dressed up in juniper green robes, were Miho and Matsu, throwing some kind of dark powder at a large, jagged rock in the middle of the space. On the ground, were markings that definitely weren¡¯t Buddhist or Shinto. And in the air around him was mist, or smoke, coming from four candles set up behind the rock.

    ¡®Wah, he¡¯s here¡­¡¯ yelled Matsu, dropping his bag of powder on his wife¡¯s foot. ¡®You said he was asleep.¡¯

    The female Miho hit her husband and told him to stop messing around, then turned to the intruder Miho and screamed, ¡®kuso.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, it¡¯s ruined now,¡¯ mumbled Matsu, rubbing his arm.

    ¡®You must¡¯ve given him the wrong sh¨­ch¨±¡­you idiot.¡¯

    ¡®Can¡¯t perform with him watching like this.¡¯

    ¡®Too busy fondling that girl, weren¡¯t you?¡¯

    ¡®Too weird¡­¡¯

    Miho stuttered, ¡®sorry, I didn¡¯t-¡­¡¯ then stumbled back into the wall and panicked, lashing out with the katana. The blade struck rock and the resulting tremor almost knocked it out of his hand.

    ¡®Ah, he¡¯s making a mess,¡¯ said the female Miho, putting her hands on her hips.

    ¡®We should stop.¡¯

    ¡®But he¡¯s here now.¡¯ She looked at the large rock in the middle then inhaled a deep batch of chamber smoke. ¡®Look, you can either go back to the room, or stay and watch. But don¡¯t interfere or speak. Understand?¡¯

    Miho shook his head, the katana hanging limply from his hand.

    ¡®Okay, blankness. That¡¯ll do.¡¯

    She turned back to the large rock, grabbed her husband by the sleeve of his juniper green robes and, with Miho looking on, produced from beneath her own robes a curved dagger. With a verse or two of occult nonsense in Japanese from her husband, she then proceeded to slice her own forearm.

    ¡®Kuso,¡¯ she said, as more blood than expected dripped down onto the rock. ¡®Hurry, cut yourself.¡¯

    Wiping the dagger, she handed it to Matsu and the ritual was repeated.

    More blood hit the rock, followed by chants that were in no language Miho had ever heard before¡­yet sounded vaguely familiar.

    Slowly, the smoke thickened and the whole chamber became shrouded and Miho was about to turn and run back up the steps, when a new voice sounded out authoritatively from the middle of the chamber.

    Miho turned, blinking like a mole in a kabuki stage spotlight as the smoke dissipated and¡­a yellow-skinned figure stood where the large rock had been, a pair of misty turquoise orbs that may have been eyes staring right back at him.

 Chapter 22: A Demon Uninterested In Head-Eating

    ~~~

    Eyes may have been a bit premature as, almost instantly, the turquoise blue mist broke out of its orb shape and darted right towards the married cultists, followed swiftly by the yellow demon¡¯s arms.

    ¡®Again?¡¯ it said in a voice that seemed to ripple as if it had come from the depths of a lake.

    Miho watched as both his namesake and her husband stuttered and nudged each other in their green robes, until finally the demon gave up waiting and answered for them.

    ¡®You got bored. Desperate for more aura.¡¯

    ¡®No¡­it was a coincidence, we swear,¡¯ spurted out of Matsu¡¯s mouth, but the yellow demon swatted the words out of the air and turned to frown at the surrounding walls.

    ¡®And this place¡­still the same¡­after I distinctly told you it was cramped and murky-looking.¡¯

    ¡®But it is ceremonial, and well hidden,¡¯ replied the female Miho. ¡®For the initial ritual, I mean. Of course, you are more than welcome to go outside and bathe in the fresh night air.¡¯

    The yellow demon grunted and walked a curved line over to the stairs, the turquoise mist again stretching out of the sockets like a scouting party. Then it hit a human brick wall and reeled back in, forcing the demon¡¯s legs to come to a stop, too.

    In front, blocking access to the stairs, was Miho in statue form, katana hanging loose from his right hand.

    ¡®You too, huh?¡¯ said the yellow demon, eyes dipping down to the green katana.

    Move did prod against the door of Miho¡¯s brain, but, for some reason, he couldn¡¯t seem to enact it. His legs were completely rigid and his arms didn¡¯t even rise up to offer the most basic of defensive postures.

    Luckily, the yellow demon didn¡¯t appear to care, giving up on conversation and gently pushing Miho¡¯s shoulder to the side as it moved forward, and then shouting back, ¡®door better not be locked,¡¯ when it¡¯d scaled the first few steps.

    As soon as the chamber was clear, Matsu and Miho lost all interest in being there and quickly rushed after the yellow guy, while Miho stood gormless for a few extra seconds, looking at the bowl of murky liquid that had produced the showy effect, before hurrying after them.

    The door hadn¡¯t been locked, thank gods, and when he made it back out of the fake wood storage shack, he looked straight over to the path leading to the guest room.

    In his short experience of demon activity, they tended to eat people¡¯s heads, or threatened to slice them up into pieces, and if his body wasn¡¯t up to scratch or appetising enough then either Akira¡¯s or Aya¡¯s might be.

    Assuming they were both in the room.

    Akira probably was - his snoring had been apocalyptic - but Aya. He¡¯d only been down in the ritual cave for about ten minutes, there was a good chance she still hadn¡¯t returned.

    If she was ever going to¡­

    Voices round the side of the wood shack lured him away from Aya speculation and back to the matter at hand. A yellow demon plus two fanatics planning to do something that required drugged wine and unconscious victims. A functioning katana in his right hand.

    He edged round the path and, avoiding loose twigs on the ground, pursued the voices.

    It didn¡¯t take long to find the source.

    Matsu and Miho were both on their knees, holding out what looked like fallen leaves as an offering, while the yellow demon had one hand held flat against the trunk of a particularly large tree, muttering some occult language nonsense.

    There was no real way to know what the hell was happening unless he stepped in and asked them directly, but Miho didn¡¯t feel comfortable doing that as all three of them looked insane.

    ¡®We have offered our room to three travellers, including a vulnerable, young girl. And other travellers too, on different days,¡¯ said Matsu, shaking the leaf in his hand.

    ¡®And we have given money to beggars who appeared to be crippled,¡¯ added Miho.

    The yellow demon broke off from its tree meditation song, took one of their leaves and wiped the palm of its hand. Its eyes were still closed [or orbs of mist, technically] and remained so as it manoeuvred around the lunatic couple and made its way over to Miho¡¯s position.

    Stopping a little to the side, it clamped the same palm it¡¯d used to touch the tree on Miho¡¯s shoulder, asking in a much less submerged voice, ¡®what the hell are you doing here anyway?¡¯

    Miho¡¯s first instinct was to stutter like the couple earlier, but some part of his brain kept it together enough to respond with, ¡®just passing through.¡¯

    ¡®What about your clan?¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­my family?¡¯

    The demon tilted its head right, at quite an awkward angle, then removed its hand from Miho¡¯s shoulder and performed a series of patting motions down the side of his arm.

    ¡®I don¡¯t have a weapon,¡¯ Miho said, confused yet making no move to resist. Then remembered the katana in his right hand. ¡®The sword is someone else¡¯s.¡¯

    The yellow demon didn¡¯t seem to care, they just kept going with the body patting act. Finally, after bending down and doing the same action on Miho¡¯s legs, the yellow demon let out a soft growl and said, ¡®your family. Yes. Are they nearby?¡¯

    ¡®Well¡­my dad is dead¡­last year¡­and my mum is back home in my village.¡¯

    ¡®That¡¯s where you were raised?¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­yes. Nambu.¡¯

    ¡®Any friends?¡¯

    ¡®Some. Most of the time. River Bitch. Kentaro 2. Spiritual Chiyo¡­before she got taken away for suspected witchcraft.¡¯

    ¡®And with you now¡­passing through here?¡¯

    Miho looked over at the door panel leading back into the main house. Should he mention Akira? Did he qualify in any way as a friend?You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    ¡®Ah, they are resting,¡¯ concluded the yellow demon, taking Miho by the sleeve of his yukata. ¡®Show me.¡¯

    ¡®Yes, the other two,¡¯ said Matsu, re-joining them with a fresh supply of leaves. ¡®This way, let us show you.¡¯

    ¡®They¡¯re both a little rough,¡¯ said the female Miho, ¡®if you give them the chance to talk. Especially the girl. Very petulant.¡¯

    ¡®Hey¡­¡¯ Miho said, thinking of Matsu and his wandering hands. And his wife¡¯s too, now that he thought about it.

    ¡®Go to your room,¡¯ said the demon, putting an arm out like a stone wall. ¡®I will call on you before I leave.¡¯

    ¡®But¡­we haven¡¯t described all our benevolent activities yet.¡¯

    ¡®We can show you the rice paper with the thank you messages.¡¯

    ¡®Your room,¡¯ the demon repeated.

    Hesitating a little then bowing obsequiously, both Matsu and the female Miho returned to the front of their own house, dropping the leaves like cigarette butts on the way.

    ¡®Why do they do all this?¡¯ asked Miho, watching them go, then refocusing on the yellow claw stuck to his sleeve.

    ¡®Boredom. Fear. Sexual desire. The Lake Suwa effect.¡¯

    ¡®Huh?¡¯

    ¡®The bigger question is why I don¡¯t take back their summoning stone. Relieve myself of all this¡­activity. Ah, whimsy, I suppose.¡¯ The yellow demon tugged lightly on Miho¡¯s sleeve, acting out a smile that may have been intended as jovial, but caught the moonlight at an odd angle and instead made it look homicidal. ¡®Come, onwards to your room. Show me these friends of yours.¡¯

    ~~~

    The room was still Aya-less when Miho slid open the door panel and poked his head inside, but Akira¡¯s snoring was going strong.

    Which was odd as his body was wrapped up tight in the blanket, not a loose bit of material in sight, almost like he¡¯d been prepped for burial the next day.

    ¡®Is he dead?¡¯ asked the yellow demon, stepping into the room after Miho.

    In an act of unconscious defiance, Akira¡¯s splint arm shot out from the beneath the covers, accompanied by a vocal warning not to go in the river.

    ¡®Ah, never mind.¡¯

    ¡®He had a lot to drink,¡¯ Miho said, edging round to the okiandon and propping the green katana gently against it.

    ¡®That¡¯s his blade?¡¯

    ¡®Yes.¡¯

    ¡®Did he drop it in a lake?¡¯

    ¡®Sorry?¡¯

    The yellow demon gestured at the katana with a swish of the hand¡­then, when Miho said sorry again, just said, ¡®it¡¯s green.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah. Err¡­it is. Green.¡¯

    ¡®Okay, clearly a tough question. Where is this other friend of yours?¡¯

    Miho coughed, forgetting the he dropped it in a giant bucket of green ink defence, and unfolded his arms [which he didn¡¯t even realise he¡¯d folded]. ¡®I¡¯m not sure. Actually, I was looking for her earlier. She went out for a walk, said she doesn¡¯t sleep easily¡­maybe cos of recent events¡­but I couldn¡¯t find her anywhere. I was hoping she¡¯d be back by now.¡¯

    ¡®Perhaps she felt uneasy about sharing a futon with this one?¡¯

    ¡®Yeah. That¡¯s also true.¡¯

    Miho nodded for extra effect, or credit, then flinched as a mosquito buzzed past his ear. He instinctively tried to lash out, but it was too fast, zig-zagging over to the futon and settling on Akira¡¯s splint, which was lying exposed outside the blanket.

    It stayed there a good while, sucking up the ashigaru¡¯s sh¨­ch¨±-infused blood¡­and didn¡¯t seem to have a limit. Was there a secret spiritual realm set up to store all that blood it was taking in?

    Knowing that he should at least swat it away, Miho crept forward and slid his hand through the air until it was hovering over the mosquito.

    The little insect was still gorging itself, and it seemed almost sad to kill it in this way but¡­

    His hand dived down quickly, then stopped¡­held by some invisible force.

    Finally sensing its potential demise, the mosquito stopped drinking and flew off towards the open door panel.

    ¡®That is a living creature¡­¡¯ said the yellow demon, the turquoise mist orbs that sometimes doubled as eyes shimmering as it spoke.

    ¡®Sorry¡­we usually hit them. It¡¯s normal.¡¯

    ¡®Not a good excuse.¡¯

    The yellow demon dimmed the glow of its orbs and moved to the wall near the okiandon. Aya¡¯s bag was dumped there, a sign, at least, that she intended to come back at some point, and the yellow demon picked at its drawstring.

    Miho felt life return to his hand and wiggled his fingers to confirm it. ¡®Did you just freeze my hand?¡¯

    ¡®Not exactly.¡¯

    ¡®Take over my brain?¡¯

    The yellow demon dipped its hand all the way inside Aya¡¯s bag and muttered to itself in a language that was similar to the one used by the tree trunk, one that definitely wasn¡¯t Japanese. Or human, even.

    On the futon, Akira mumbled in unison, something about doing the same scam fourteen times.

    Miho put the blanket back over the ashigaru¡¯s arm, frowning. Scam? What scam? Why would anyone need to do it fourteen times? The smiling image of the belt merchant popped back into Miho¡¯s head, making him shiver.

    ¡®You shouldn¡¯t get too close to that one,¡¯ said the yellow demon, standing by the door panel, apparently finished with Aya¡¯s bag.

    ¡®He¡¯s asleep¡­¡¯

    ¡®Characters of his type¡­they care about one thing only. Survival.¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­¡¯

    ¡®Trust my words. The next town you come to, detach from this rogue. Take the girl with you.¡¯

    Miho raised his head, glancing at Aya¡¯s bag as if she were about to spring out of it.

    ¡®Don¡¯t worry, she¡¯ll be here when you wake up.¡¯

    ¡®You can see her?¡¯

    The yellow demon put its hand on the door panel, closing its eyes [or orbs of mist, technically] and letting out a tiny wail. ¡®I have traced her. She is nearby. Now, I must go and deal with those persistent stalkers before they tire.¡¯

    ¡®Wait¡­¡¯ said Miho stretching out a hand. ¡®Do you have to go?¡¯

    ¡®Have to is a strong word.¡¯

    ¡®I mean¡­there are some things I wanted to ask you, about your world.¡¯

    ¡®Such as?¡¯

    Miho lowered his hand, dismissing the first question in the queue ¨C why is your skin yellow? ¨C and the second ¨C are you it, he, she or they? - and the third, the fourth, the fifth¡­then saying, ¡®kuso,¡¯ when Akira¡¯s knee rose up and hit him in the waist.

    ¡®Perhaps too much pressure,¡¯ said the yellow demon, smirking. ¡®Though let me ask you something. Why is it you feel such comfort in the presence of a yellow-skinned demon from a different dimension?¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­I don¡¯t know.¡¯

    ¡®Have you met my kind before? Or is it the Lake Suwa effect washing over you?¡¯

    ¡®Actually¡­there was one¡­no, two demons. In the last week.¡¯

    ¡®I see. Yellow like myself?¡¯

    ¡®No. One of them had a kind of green¡­appearance¡­and the other was a beautiful woman in a yukata.¡¯

    ¡®Doesn¡¯t sound particularly demonic.¡¯

    ¡®She wasn¡¯t¡­until she turned into purple mist and threatened to kill me.¡¯

    The yellow demon¡¯s turquoise orbs swirled and then lashed out in glowing tendrils, left, right, diagonal down, up towards the ceiling. Its claw gripped the door panel so tight it almost snapped a giant splinter off of it.

    ¡®Do you know her?¡¯

    It took a moment, but the orbs finally relaxed and the door panel won back its freedom.

    ¡®I deal with her kind from time to time, yes. A mercurial sort, vicious¡­especially in this world. Tell me, how is it that you survived your encounter?¡¯

    ¡®Honestly, I¡¯m still not really sure. She just swirled around a bit then disappeared back into the forest. That was the last I saw of her.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, a range issue, perhaps.¡¯

    ¡®A what?¡¯

    ¡®You seem like a kind, amiable person, Miho,¡¯ the yellow demon continued, reaching its fingers into the skin of its own waist and, with minimal pain or effort, pulling out a small, jagged stone. ¡®And I fear for you. Especially in a place as superstitious-¡­as unhinged as Lake Suwa.¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s okay, we¡¯re not staying. Farther north is our target.¡¯

    ¡®Good, good. You should go there fast. And if things seem bleak, drop this stone into any body of water, call for Vit¡¯oona Zah and I will come. But, please¡­don¡¯t overuse it like those two. And no blood-letting.¡¯

    Miho let the yellow demon open up his palm and place the stone gently on top. Thankfully, it didn¡¯t fold its fingers over it as the edges were quite sharp. It did, however, place its knuckles on Miho¡¯s temple and repeat Vit¡¯oona Zah about ten times, which was a relief as he¡¯d already started to forget it.

    ¡®It is etched now,¡¯ the yellow demon said, removing its hand. ¡®Impossible to forget.¡¯

    ¡®Vit¡¯oona Zah,¡¯ whispered Miho, more to himself than the demon.

    ¡®Now I really must leave. I can hear the moans from the other room.¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­¡¯

    ¡®Complaining noises.¡¯

    ¡®Oh.¡¯

    The pale blue orbs shimmered again and then evaporated into the air, along with the rest of the yellow-skinned demon, who managed a not very soothing wink as it faded out.

    ¡®Not that house¡­¡¯ shouted Akira, shooting his whole body up this time and reaching for his katana.

    Which was now propped up next to the okiandon, on the other side of the futon.

    Kuso, thought Miho, quickly leaping across, grabbing the katana guard and then placing it as gently as he could next to Akira¡¯s flailing hand.

    A few seconds later, it connected.

    ¡®Wood¡¯s all wrong, too many windows,¡¯ replied the ashigaru, patted the side of the blade then lowering himself back down onto the futon and pulling the covers all the way over his head.

 Chapter 23: Not Her Best Work

    ~~~

    The room sat empty, the futon covers untouched, the typical furniture and okiandon for such a place completely absent.

    Rumours among the ant community warned that this particular territory was haunted, but to the four young ants sneaking in through the gaps of the balcony door panel, it seemed more like a colony showroom, pulling them in with the visual promise of no humans and no adventurous bears that might accidentally step on them.

    The only odd thing was the large wooden box in the centre of the room, sat on a rug laid over the main tatami.

    It probably wasn¡¯t anything except ornamental, or perhaps a storage place for treasure stolen from beaten enemies¡­something rarely opened¡­yet it was quite odd that the lid seemed to be rattling.

    Nope, confirmed the boldest ant, putting its leg next to the box. Definitely some movement inside.

    It turned back to its comrades, giving them the signal to retreat, adding there might be something alive inside¡­before the lid shook itself off and landed edge-first on the poor creatures head.

    Not a pretty way to go¡­though it was fast¡­and visually interesting.

    The surviving ants scurried to the door panel, the quickest of them catching a brief glimpse of the sun outside before being swept up into the sudden purple storm and disintegrating.

    On the other side of the room, the interior door panel slid open and Misora strolled in, a half-eaten pear in her left hand. Another head poked in behind her, a young girl with cropped hair, giving out a whispered, ¡®is that her?¡¯ before pulling back quickly as the panel almost slammed into her face.

    Shouting through the rice paper for Yuka to go and do horse prep in the stables, Misora took a small bite of her pear and turned back round.

    ¡®Ah, you¡¯re up¡­¡¯ she said, her eyes following the swirls of lilac for a few seconds before dizziness cut in. ¡®Shall I come back later?¡¯

    The light show came to an abrupt stop, three streams of purple coalescing into one block and then etching out the familiar shape of Atta Noe.

    ¡®Ah, the work face. Feeling better now?¡¯

    ¡®Update, quickly.¡¯

    ¡®About your two escapees?¡¯

    ¡®Quicker.¡¯

    Misora took another tiny bite of her pear, acting out an expression of disappointment. ¡®Not the best news.¡¯

    ¡®Dead?¡¯

    ¡®All four of our men. In the ryokan lobby.¡¯

    ¡®The ashigaru, the idiot boy?¡¯

    ¡®Either very good at hiding or gone.¡¯

    Atta Noe put a hand on the side of her box, letting it slide into purple mist.

    ¡®Green demon is gone too. Though we¡¯re not exactly sure where.¡¯

    ¡®¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­¡¯ replied the lilac demon in her native tongue. ¡®Call for my box carriers. I must pursue them at once.¡¯

    ¡®That¡¯s the other piece of not good news. Yukio Ka is sending myself, Ichiko and that annoyingly curious girl outside in the annex chamber to go after them.¡¯

    ¡®Yes, good, and I will lead you.¡¯

    Another bite of the pear, a shake of the head. ¡®Sorry, not on the table. Yukio Ka wants you to stay here.¡¯

    ¡®For what purpose?¡¯

    ¡®He didn¡¯t say.¡¯

    Atta Noe let the rest of her arm retreat into mist form, then lashed out at the almost finished pear in Misora¡¯s hand.

    ¡®Hey, I was still eating that¡­¡¯

    ¡®Nonsense. Petty scheming nonsense. He sent you to tell me this?¡¯

    ¡®From his own lips.¡¯ Misora stared down at the remains of her pear, searching for a surviving piece of flesh. ¡®Apparently, you¡¯re less likely to have a hissy fit if I¡¯m around.¡¯

    ¡®¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, that¡¯s what I said too.¡¯

    Atta Noe ranted a few more lines in her own language then gave her mouth and her limbs and the rest of her human form over to the purple swarm, streaming in and around Misora, swiping at her hair, the sleeves of her yukata, slashing at the door panel leading outside, before finally coming back to an exhausted female slump at the side of the box.

    ¡®If it¡¯s any consolation,¡¯ said Misora, brushing down her yukata and re-ordering her hair, ¡®Ichiko is a complete sadist. When she gets her hands on your targets¡­¡¯

    ¡®They¡¯re mine,¡¯ Atta Noe whispered, somehow loud enough to carry to the door panel and the ears of the young girl listening in, who had to suppress her ragged breathing a little just so the guard at the end of the corridor wouldn¡¯t come over.

    ¡®Okay¡­their corpses¡­if we get back in time.¡¯

    ¡®Not good enough.¡¯

    Misora stepped closer to the box, leaning down a bit and patting Atta Noe on the shoulder. ¡®Sorry, but¡­Shingen¡¯s orders.¡¯Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    The lilac demon appeared to finally notice the hand on her shoulder, lifting her own hand up and pushing it off.

    ¡®I hope you fail,¡¯ she said, eyes stuck on the tatami.

    Taking the hint, Misora dusted off her yukata again then headed out through the door panel, whispering to the young girl to get to the stables fast if she wanted to live.

    ¡®Is she okay?¡¯

    ¡®Faster than that, please.¡¯

    The young girl tried to peer through the half an inch gap the door panel had left open, and was successful for a brief moment, catching sight of a purple eye staring back at her¡­but then it was gone, and Misora was grabbing her yukata sleeve and dragging her down the corridor.

    ¡®The stables, Yuka¡­¡¯ she repeated, as the young girl babbled about how purple the eye was. ¡®No detours.¡¯

    ¡®I know, I¡¯m going, but-¡­¡¯

    ¡®Or I¡¯ll tell Ichiko.¡¯

    The guard nearby laughed, clearly familiar with the name, and said, ¡®good luck,¡¯ to the now very silent Yuka as she passed.

    ¡®Yeah, thought that would do it,¡¯ muttered Misora, finally letting go of the sleeve.

    ~~~

    An hour later, dressed in a less-slashed yukata and d¨­buku combo, Misora stepped up to her horse in the main courtyard and told it to not make any annoying neighing sounds as she wasn¡¯t in the mood.

    ¡®Socialising with the equipment again,¡¯ said the tall, ruler-straight woman next to her, already perched on her own horse.

    ¡®It¡¯s called respect, Ichiko.¡¯

    ¡®Well, at least you¡¯ve bothered to show up. Where¡¯s that idiotic new girl? She should¡¯ve been here twenty minutes ago.¡¯

    ¡®Maybe Yukio Ka is giving her some private instructions.¡¯

    There was a glint in Ichiko¡¯s eye, though her face remained stone-like. And her hand edged ever so slightly towards the dagger tucked into her belt. Then stopped as Yuka emerged from a side door, walking a bit awkwardly at first then settling into an exaggerated stride as she approached them.

    ¡®Where¡¯s my horse?¡¯ she asked, looking around at the courtyard drones, who all reacted by shifting their weight onto their other foot and looking down at the random straw scattered about on the ground.

    ¡®In the kingdom under the sea,¡¯ replied Misora, smiling to herself.

    ¡®What?¡¯

    ¡®In the stable, you dolt,¡¯ barked Ichiko, steering her horse around and glaring down at the young trainee. ¡®Don¡¯t just stand there gawping, go and get it. Now.¡¯

    Yuka visibly tensed up, her hands turning not into fists but into daggers. And her eyes¡­

    ¡®What is the delay?¡¯ came another voice from behind.

    Misora glanced over, seeing the spymaster, Atta Ka Yukio, making his way over, his two twin servants trailing a metre behind on each side.

    ¡®This third wheel is holding us up,¡¯ answered Ichiko, backing her horse up a bit and nodding at her superior.

    ¡®Is that so?¡¯

    Yuka looked down at the ground, mumbled something about getting her horse, then turned in a slow circle away from the tall, imposing figure of Atta Ka Yukio and headed across the courtyard.

    ¡®Stop¡­¡¯ shouted the spymaster.

    Before Yuka could do anything, the twins had dashed in front of her, their motion so fast that it registered to even the two ninjas as an impossible blur.

    ¡®If we don¡¯t get moving soon¡­¡¯ Misora started to say, but was silenced with a swipe of the spymaster¡¯s hand.

    Moving up behind Yuka, he reached out his hand and traced a line down the length of her arm. When he got to her fingers, he stretched them out and tapped the nails on the end, whispering into her ear, ¡®not your best work.¡¯

    ¡®I was in a rush,¡¯ she said back, pulling her hand away and swirling out of Yuka¡¯s eyes, ears and mouth, coalescing into a brief state of collective purple mist before finalising herself in her usual human form. ¡®Of course, if the orders had made more sense¡­¡¯

    ¡®You¡­killed her¡­Yuka?¡¯ stuttered Misora, eyes fixed on the corpse that had just been shed like a robe onto the courtyard stones.

    Atta Noe turned and looked past the spymaster¡¯s shoulder, directly at Misora¡¯s face¡­which wasn¡¯t the best idea as it looked even more stone-like than Ichiko¡¯s, with hints of raging volcano barely quelled underneath.

    ¡®Speak,¡¯ commanded Atta Ka Yukio, redrawing her attention.

    ¡®Yes, I killed her. Because she was useless. Having sex with one of the guards in the Sparrow Garden. Peeping through my door panel and making weird breathing noises. No work ethic whatsoever.¡¯

    ¡®And you thought you could just¡­ride out¡­on another little adventure?¡¯

    ¡®Obviously. That¡¯s why I¡¯m here. And Shingen would agree with me if you weren¡¯t always hanging off his ear.¡¯

    The twins in front straightened out their hands, eyes glowing.

    ¡®Even now, we¡¯re wasting time. I should be on a horse, and you should¡¯ve already ordered two men to carry my box, not be standing around this courtyard pretending to be disappointed.¡¯

    The spymaster folded his hands together, one slightly higher than the other, and took a long time to study Atta Noe¡¯s eyes. Finally, he gave a diagonal nod to the twins and they powered down.

    ¡®You may have the permit, Noe, but this recent behaviour and attitude of yours has stepped far past the accepted line,¡¯ he said, voice modulated into that of a child¡¯s teacher. ¡®There is no point in screwing up your face, you know it to be fact. And you know there must be a punishment.¡¯

    ¡®What? One week of box solitary¡­¡¯

    Atta Ka Yukio cleared his throat long and groggily, even putting a fingernail to his neck to regulate the sound. Then his hands dropped, merging into each other. ¡®In one hour, you will board a palanquin and travel to Sunpu. There, you will deliver the elder Shingen to the Imagawa Daimy¨­.¡¯

    ¡®Are you serious?¡¯

    ¡®Following that, as a sign of our nascent alliance, you will be retained in the daimy¨­¡¯s service for one full year.¡¯

    ¡®Service? For the Imagawa Clan? Don¡¯t be ridiculous. They can barely hold together their own province.¡¯

    ¡®Correct, and as an auxiliary consul, you will be charged with rectifying that.¡¯

    ¡®Nonsense. Those incompetents are just-¡­they¡¯re beneath me. No, I refuse the assignment. I will not go.¡¯

    Atta Ka Yukio straightened up to full height, his head almost blotting out the sun crawling up in the sky behind him. ¡®If you do not do it, you will not be beneath anything, nor above, nor in any position at all.¡¯

    ¡®You wouldn¡¯t dare¡­¡¯

    ¡®Impudence, again. It is not I who dares. If it were, you would not be getting off so easily. Please, do not speak again, I am tired of it. Go and pack. You depart in one hour. Guards, clear up the corpse.¡¯

    With another signal to the twins, the spymaster turned on his zori heel and glided seemingly without footsteps back inside the annex. Passing him on the way, was another young girl, costumed in the same way as Misora and Ichiko, and leading a horse behind her.

    Atta Noe stayed rooted to the spot, her legs outlined with shimmering purple mist up to the knees. The guards got on with the corpse-clearing business, taking a limb each, pretending not to notice the supernatural light show.

    Outmaneuvered by a geriatric palakkji, she thought to herself. And now a year with that Imagawa debacle. On Shingen¡¯s command. No apparent way out¡­

    The neighing of a horse forced her to blink, the new girl patting it on the nose to calm it down. ¡®I¡¯m Kanae, Yuka¡¯s replacement,¡¯ she said, finally turning to face her two seniors.

    ¡®Hopefully a smarter one,¡¯ said Ichiko, giving a side-glare to Atta Noe, then pulling on the reins and guiding her horse towards the gate.

    Misora patted her own horse on the side, but didn¡¯t climb up. Didn¡¯t do anything except stand there, watching the body of Yuka disappear through the second gate. Finally, she rebooted just enough to guide her horse over to Atta Noe, stopping behind and waiting to be noticed.

    It took a while, but eventually the purple demon compromised and turned her head halfway.

    ¡®You actually killed her,¡¯ said Misora, looking down at the string-like purple tendrils whipping aimlessly out at nothing.

    ¡®Must¡¯ve been pre-meditated,¡¯ answered Atta Noe, clearly lost in her own cause. ¡®The ease of it. Sending me off for a whole year. Me. With my talents.¡¯

    ¡®Okay, fine. Enjoy your vacation. You deserve it.¡¯

    ¡®What was that?¡¯

    ¡®Nothing. I¡¯m going.¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯re angry? At me?¡¯

    ¡®See you next spring, sociopath.¡¯

    ¡®For what? I killed the stupid one, not you. Sociopath?¡¯

    Misora patted her horse again and led it out towards the gate, finally climbing up when they¡¯d passed through to the street outside.

    ¡®Ungrateful human wretch,¡¯ mumbled Atta Noe, watching her go.

 Chapter 24: Izakaya With Reiko And No Face

    ~~~

    After a rough dream-stroke-nightmare where Miho chased Aya around the Jewel of Kai courtyard, trying to gift her Himiko¡¯s decapitated head, he woke up and saw the same girl standing over him, asking in a brusque tone why he hadn¡¯t fought for space on the futon.

    ¡®You¡¯re back¡­¡¯ he slurred, rubbing his eyes, rustling his hair, then quickly checking to make sure he had some clothes on.

    ¡®If you give anything to these thugs, even futon space, they¡¯ll laugh at you and take even more.¡¯

    A spluttered cough from the futon on the right told Miho that Akira was still there, and, when he turned to see what kind of condition he was in, gave out a confused huh? as it turned out the ashigaru wasn¡¯t even awake yet.

    ¡®Ah, never mind, let¡¯s just go. If we hurry¡­or you hurry¡­we can be out of here before he wakes up.¡¯

    She used her foot to push both his bag and yukata into his hip.

    ¡®What time is it?¡¯ asked Miho, sitting up, squinting at the dagger of light shining through the gap of the door panel.

    ¡®Past sunrise. Come on, up, get dressed. I won¡¯t look.¡¯

    ¡®Where did you go last night?¡¯

    ¡®Nowhere. Outside.¡¯

    ¡®To do what?¡¯

    ¡®Nothing. I just went for a long walk, thought about a few things, got a bit lost. Here, yukata on first.¡¯ She bent down and practically forced his arms in, then dug her hands under his armpits and pulled him up. ¡®Grab your bag, your d¨­buku.¡¯

    ¡®What about him?¡¯ asked Miho, gesturing towards the ashigaru with his face now buried like a drunk owl in the futon.

    ¡®We¡¯re near Suwa already, he won¡¯t care.¡¯

    ¡®Seems a bit rude to leave without saying anything.¡¯

    ¡®Not to me. Quick, out through this way, don¡¯t want to bump into that weird couple again.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, actually¡­¡¯ Miho stopped, pretending to struggle with the bag on his shoulder. The same bag that had the stone the yellow-skinned demon had gifted to him. Should he tell Aya about that? Would she believe him?

    ¡®Stop stalling and move,¡¯ she said, dragging him by the d¨­buku sleeve to the door panel and then letting go so he would have at least some dignity as he went outside. ¡®Based on my co-incidental reconnaissance last night, the road into Uehara is down on the south-east side. Not too far.¡¯

    ¡®We¡¯re not going to Fujimi?¡¯

    ¡®For what? We¡¯re basically past it already. Might as well head to the next town north.¡¯

    ¡®I suppose¡­¡¯

    ¡®Then we can get to Suwa faster too.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah. Suwa. Do you think we can grab something to eat first?¡¯ asked Miho, peering over at the main entrance as they passed round the side of the fake wood storage shack.

    ¡®No time.¡¯

    ¡®But I¡¯m quite hungry¡­¡¯

    ¡®We¡¯ll get a proper meal when we get to Uehara.¡¯

    ¡®How long will that be?¡¯

    ¡®I don¡¯t know. About an hour. Hour and a half.¡¯

    Miho hesitated slightly, then reached out to Aya¡¯s shoulders and pulled her to an abrupt halt.

    ¡®We¡¯re not going in there,¡¯ she said, her tone exasperated.

    ¡®I know, I know¡­¡¯

    ¡®Then why are you dragging me back?¡¯

    Miho pointed at the ground in front of her, where a huge crater was no more than a few milimetres from gobbling up her feet. ¡®Pothole.¡¯

    ¡®Kuso¡­¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s quite well-disguised.¡¯

    ¡®Are you being caustic?¡¯

    ¡®Core sick?¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s the size of a bear¡¯s head. Why didn¡¯t I see that? Kuso.¡¯

    ¡®Fatigue, probably.¡¯

    ¡®Or distracted by your food questions.¡¯ She stepped around the hole that seemed to have a small reservoir of muddy water at the bottom, which was odd as it hadn¡¯t rained the last few nights. Bear spit perhaps? ¡®How about we walk in silence for a while? At least till we get to the main road.¡¯

    Miho looked back at the entrance, shrugging.

    ¡®Shrugging means okay?¡¯

    ¡®I suppose.¡¯

    Aya took a lighter hold of his sleeve and guided him round the hole like a pensioner, telling him that saying err¡­ was better than shrugging so he should return to doing that.

    ¡®Fair point,¡¯ replied Miho, quelling the urge to tell her that, actually, he liked to alternate between both of them.

    ¡®And the next time there¡¯s a futon, don¡¯t surrender your half of it.¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­¡¯

    ¡®Unless it¡¯s a sick person. Or a baby. Or a woman you¡¯re attracted to who doesn¡¯t like you back. Or the emperor¡­I guess.¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t know if that¡¯ll ever happen¡­¡¯

    ¡®No, edit that. Emperors should be down to earth. Sharing is fine.¡¯

    ¡®Noted.¡¯

    ~~~

    Aya¡¯s time prediction turned out to be fairly accurate as just over an hour later, they left the trees and the birds and the creepy sounds of vague wildlife behind and entered the town of Uehara, an ancillary of Suwa about two kilometres north.

    Architecture-wise, it wasn¡¯t that different from Fujimi or K¨­fu; the same wooden structures for houses, routine shops, trade fronts, izakaya, massage parlours, clan barracks - all of it sectioned into distinct zones - with the main road running parallel to the River Kami through the centre of it all, and announcing its entrance with a small, relatively bustling market.

    Miho and Aya stopped at some of the stalls, looking around for buns or snacks, but none of the hawkers seemed to be interested in the concept of food sales, mostly talking to each other or yelling at their dogs instead, so the duo kept moving, kicking occasional pebbles into the river, until they came to an izakaya at the corner of a busy junction, with a pretty wooden bridge leading another path off to a park on the right.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    For some reason, the izakaya had a lit okiandon hanging outside, even though it was barely even midday, and that factor, plus the rogue group of ashigaru with Suwa insignia milling about on the bridge up ahead, persuaded Aya and Miho to give it a try.

    ¡®If they ask us anything, just say we¡¯re visiting from Nagano,¡¯ whispered Aya, as she slid open the izakaya door panel.

    ¡®As brother and sister?¡¯ asked Miho, squinting at the dimly lit room they were walking into.

    ¡®No, we don¡¯t look alike. It¡¯ll have to be lovers.¡¯

    ¡®Yuki won¡¯t be happy about that.¡¯

    ¡®We don¡¯t have to physically do anything, just pretend. Maybe hold my hand if they really look sceptical.¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t know if they¡¯ll be able to see that,¡¯ replied Miho, almost knocking over the waitress coming to greet them as he gestured at the darkness with his arm. ¡®Sorry, I didn¡¯t-¡­it¡¯s quite dark in here.¡¯

    ¡®Yes, apologies for that,¡¯ the waitress said, smiling. ¡®It¡¯s by request of one of our regular patrons.¡¯

    ¡®Who, a bat?¡¯ asked Aya.

    ¡®There¡¯s a slightly brighter seat over here, if the shadows are too uncomfortable for you.¡¯

    ¡®Sounds good,¡¯ replied Miho, reaching down to Aya¡¯s hand and squeezing it¡­then getting squeezed back harder in return.

    The waitress, who gave her name as Reiko, led them to a table near the open window, which acted like a small pocket universe of trapped sunlight within a black hole. ¡®You do have coin, don¡¯t you?¡¯

    ¡®Excuse me?¡¯

    ¡®Sorry, I have to ask. We¡¯ve had some youngsters come in and order and then leap out through that window when it was time to pay the bill.¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯re too tired to do anything like that.¡¯

    ¡®Good. You do have money though, correct?¡¯

    Aya dipped a hand in her bag and took out a small purse, rattling it hard to make the coins inside clink.

    ¡®Lovely. Can you open it up and show me?¡¯

    ¡®Seriously?¡¯

    ¡®Sorry, I have to insist. We had a belt merchant in here a few weeks ago, shaking a purse of replica coins at us.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, those guys¡­¡¯ said Aya, stealing a glance at Miho, who flinched and looked out the window at an old man itching his crotch. ¡®Okay, here¡¯s all we got, if you can see it through all this shadow.¡¯

    She tilted the bag and a small avalanche of coins flowed out onto the table, one of them getting a little carried away and sailing right off the edge of the table.

    Switching to reflex mode, Aya made a daring lunge forward as the coin dropped towards the floor, pulling back at the last millisecond when she saw another hand coming in from the other direction.

    ¡®Wah¡­¡¯ she cried, as the other hand caught the coin in its palm¡­then dropped it again in response to her wah.

    Stifling an instinctive laugh, Aya bent down to retrieve the coin, but was stopped a second time as the other hand pressed one finger down on top of the copper piece and then shot upwards, seemingly magnetising the coin enough to bring it up attached to the underside of their hand.

    With a faint clink, it landed on the pile of coins on the table.

    ¡®Unfortunate lapse for the first part,¡¯ said the owner of the magic hand, a man with features that were almost redundant due to the red and white stripes painted on his neck, coupled with the matching accessories branching out of his hair, both of which serving as more than enough to distinguish him.

    In fact, his markings were so distinctive that Aya and Miho took a long while to stop staring at them and, by the time they did, he was already turning to leave.

    ¡®Wait¡­¡¯ said Aya, finally, stretching out an arm. ¡®How did you do that?¡¯

    ¡®Magic, of course,¡¯ he said, half turning.

    ¡®Yeah¡­but how?¡¯

    ¡®What did he do?¡¯ whispered Miho, who¡¯d been too busy picturing belt merchant revenge scenes onto the street scenery outside.

    Aya shushed him and asked again, this time asking for specific details.

    The man scratched the red stripe on his neck and looked at Reiko. They seemed to have a brief telepathic exchange, concluded with a nod from both sides.

    ¡®I leave you with my agent¡­¡¯ the man said, pulling his d¨­buku tight and heading towards the main door.

    The instant the panel slid shut, the light from the three windows spread further into the izakaya, brightening the whole place and making one of the patrons shout out loud, ¡®thank fucking gods for that.¡¯

    ¡®That was the patron I was referring to earlier,¡¯ Reiko said, leaning down.

    ¡®And you¡¯re his agent?¡¯ asked Aya, still looking at the door panel.

    ¡®His little joke. I do help promote some of his street performances, but they¡¯re quite rare nowadays. Says he has other things to do, important things.¡¯

    ¡®What¡¯s his name?¡¯

    ¡®Kao Nashi.¡¯

    ¡®Kao¡­Nashi. Really? That¡¯s real?¡¯

    ¡®Stage name. I just call him Daiki, but I think that¡¯s supposed to be a secret. Anyway, what can I get you? The chef is doing some pretty good fried tofu today, if you¡¯re looking for something light?¡¯

    ¡®There¡¯s a kitchen here?¡¯ asked Miho, raising his head up and looking over at the counter on the other side of the izakaya.

    ¡®Annex, next door.¡¯

    ¡®Tofu sounds good,¡¯ answered Aya, coming back to the table and the small mountain of coins.

    ¡®Drinks?¡¯

    ¡®Just two cups of green tea. Very hot.¡¯

    Reiko nodded and headed back to the main counter. Miho waited until she was out of earshot, and the few other patrons looked occupied, before he nudged Aya and asked again what had happened.

    ¡®Cheap magic trick,¡¯ she replied, picking up the coins.

    ¡®Doing what?¡¯

    ¡®Coin related. Doesn¡¯t matter. Key point is the light is back in and we can actually see again.¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t know. I was almost getting used to the dark.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, it¡¯s good if you want to get robbed. Or groped by a pervert.¡¯

    The door panel slid open again, cutting off Miho¡¯s you mean me? response. The same group of ashigaru from the wooden bridge entered, surveyed the now well-lit environment, grinned when they saw Aya and Miho, and swaggered with hands on their belts over to their table.

    ¡®Not again,¡¯ yelled Reiko, intercepting halfway and, despite being about five inches shorter and unarmed, pushing them back towards the door.

    ¡®Get your hands off me, woman,¡¯ shouted the lead ashigaru, a tall, scrawny type with hawk-like eyebrows.

    ¡®I¡¯ve told you a hundred times, stay outside or I¡¯ll go direct to your daimy¨­.¡¯

    ¡®Your threats are water. And your face is doughy.¡¯

    ¡®And you look like a hangover shit. Move. Out.¡¯

    The lead ashigaru turned to his cronies and shook his head like he was head thug in an amateur street play. ¡®These irritating nags¡­¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t act tough for your friends, leave.¡¯

    ¡®Woman¡­¡¯

    ¡®Go. Get out. Move.¡¯

    In a continued act of insane boldness, Reiko switched from pushing to prodding with three bunched fingers and eventually forced them back against the door panel. The ashigaru¡¯s hand hovered next to his katana guard, but didn¡¯t go any further, and after another hard prod from Reiko, he slid the door panel across and stormed out, kicking the first random passer-by he saw outside.

    ¡®Brainless thugs,¡¯ yelled Reiko after them, wiping her hands on her yukata and then turning to see which oddball was doing the clapping.

    It was Aya, though she soon stopped, settling for a more reserved cheer of,, ¡®good job.¡¯

    ¡®Akira was right,¡¯ mumbled Miho, helping Aya put the last of the coins back in the purse. ¡®It¡¯s like watching a bunch of animals.¡¯

    ¡®Of course, they¡¯re ashigaru.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah¡­I¡¯m learning that.¡¯

    ¡®Learning?¡¯

    Miho didn¡¯t respond, he just handed her back the purse and looked out the window again. The ashigaru were now back at the bridge, eyeballing the old man who was still itching his crotch.

    ¡®Well, at least we don¡¯t have to deal with them. Or your friend, Akira, who took all of the futon.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah.¡¯

    ¡®Definitely a good thing.¡¯

    ~~~

    After finishing a pretty impressive plate of fried tofu and sipping volcanic-heat green tea, the two pretend lovers left the izakaya and walked further down the river, stopping every now and then to ask a few random pedestrians, which town was better, Uehara or Suwa?

    Most said Uehara, obviously, but a few crossed the line and said Suwa, mainly cos it was next to the lake and, therefore, closer to god.

    God being nature, apparently.

    ¡®If they like it better, why don¡¯t they move there?¡¯ asked Aya, more to her own hand then Miho, who seemed to be entranced by the gently rippling current of the river.

    ¡®Don¡¯t know.¡¯

    ¡®Unless they just prefer to visit sometimes¡­¡¯

    ¡®Probably.¡¯

    ¡®It is quite near, not that hard to get there¡­¡¯

    ¡®Right.¡¯

    Aya picked up a small twig from the path and threw it at the side of Miho¡¯s head, blurting out, ¡®wah, sorry,¡¯ when it hit him just above the eye.

    Luckily, he barely noticed, interpreting the strike as an insect scraping against his forehead and giving it a quick brush.

    ¡®Did that tofu hypnotise you or something?¡¯

    ¡®Huh?¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯ve been blank all afternoon. Just a lot of yeah and probably.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah. Probably.¡¯

    ¡®Kuso¡­¡¯

    He looked dazed for a second then broke into the slightest of smiles. ¡®Joking. I¡¯m still here, don¡¯t worry.¡¯

    ¡®What are you so deep in thought about? Where to go next?¡¯

    ¡®Not really.¡¯

    ¡®Wah, you¡¯re not still worried about that ashigaru, are you?¡¯

    ¡®A bit.¡¯

    ¡®Why? He¡¯s a thug.¡¯

    ¡®Just feels wrong¡­leaving like that. Not saying anything to him.¡¯ Miho looked up at Aya, keeping a lock on her eyes as they tried to dart left. ¡®Taking some of his coins.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, you noticed that¡­¡¯

    ¡®It was pretty obvious.¡¯

    ¡®Yeah, and deserved too. He took them from those other thugs, I took them from him. It¡¯s the circle of economy¡­or trade economics¡­whatever you call it.¡¯

    ¡®If he catches up with us¡­¡¯

    ¡®He won¡¯t.¡¯

    ¡®But if he does¡­¡¯

    She picked up another twig and threw it into the river, almost hitting the youngest of a family of ducks swimming by.

    ¡®There¡¯s a good chance he¡¯ll come here, to Uehara¡­¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m hungry. Are you?¡¯

    ¡®What?¡¯

    ¡®Dinner. Do you want some?¡¯

    ¡®Isn¡¯t it a bit early?¡¯

    ¡®Not if we walk slowly back to our favourite izakaya.¡¯

    Miho stared at her, then at the path on the opposite side of the river. They¡¯d only walked about half a kilometre, so if he squinted, he could just about make out the sign of the place that was actually pretty cosy. In fact, he¡¯d been half hoping Aya would suggest it and now she had, he was forced to act wary, as if he hadn¡¯t also eaten at the same izakaya in his village about seven thousand times in a row and never given it a second thought.

    ¡®Well?¡¯

 Chapter 25: Ashigaru Barfly

    ~~~

    Dinner was chicken strips and a local Suwa soup that Miho had never seen nor heard of before.

    However, after surviving the blue enigma of Kumamoto chicken, he was now a lot more flexible on food and finished everything in his bowl before Aya had even picked up her chopsticks.

    And when, after twenty-odd minutes of staring at a fairly busy Reiko on the other side of the izakaya, she finally did dig into the meal, it was more a nursing of the chicken instead of an actual, focused attempt to consume it.

    ¡®I don¡¯t think she¡¯s going to talk to us,¡¯ said Miho, following his pretend lover¡¯s line of sight. ¡®Too many customers.¡¯

    Aya held up a clump of rice and then did nothing as it slipped and fell back into her bowl. ¡®Way too many.¡¯

    ¡®Not sure how she copes with it all¡­if it¡¯s like this every evening.¡¯

    ¡®She can¡¯t, it¡¯s impossible.¡¯

    ¡®And the kitchen staff are like ghosts, just bring in the food then gone. In fact, I think it¡¯s the same guy each time. Sometimes in a hat, sometimes not.¡¯

    Aya muttered yeah and picked up a long strip of chicken, dipping it with a tad more attention into the spring onion sauce.

    Miho looked around the rest of the izakaya, slouching back in his seat when he saw that none of the other customers resembled ashigaru. There was one guy who looked quite tall and muscular, but he was on his own and seemingly busy scribbling something on rice paper.

    Probably a poet. Or a novelist. Trying to write the next Genji Monogatari or, if he was a traveller, Fuji Kik¨­.

    Not that Miho had read either of those.

    He¡¯d tried Heike Monogatari once, when the local daimy¨­ had authorised a book tour of the provincial villages and a copy of the text had sat in the Solitude Temple for a week and a half, but there¡¯d been a queue behind him and he hated it when there was that kind of pressure¡­

    Still, one page was enough to know it wasn¡¯t for him.

    As in, he didn¡¯t understand what the author was going on about. Descriptions of tree bark and the different humming sounds of birds, okay, but how did that connect to the vibrations of human thought? And what the hell were ley lines and rhizomes?

    Visibly shaking his head at the memory, Miho returned to his green tea and checked in on Aya.

    Wah¡­

    She wasn¡¯t there, the seat was-

    Kuso.

    Where did she get to now?

    For some reason, he looked out of the window first, using the hanging lanterns outside to aid his search of the street shadows and silhouetted faces.

    Then, rationalism kicked in and he readjusted to a narrower range. The interior of the izakaya, specifically, the counter where Reiko was pouring out drinks.

    Ah, there she was, hanging off the arm of her new idol.

    He thought about shouting out, to ask what she was up to, but by the time the idea had fully gestated, Aya was already glaring his way, waving her hand in a signal that either meant spin-dance on the table or get over there.

    Going with the latter, Miho wriggled out from the bench and weaved his way past tables of customers without katanas until he was parked on the stool next to her.

    ¡®Here, take these¡­¡¯ said Aya, holding out two bowls of Suwa soup.

    ¡®What?¡¯

    ¡®We¡¯re using our expertise to help out.¡¯

    ¡®You mean work?¡¯

    ¡®Volunteer shift.¡¯

    ¡®Paid,¡¯ corrected Reiko, glancing over from the eight cups of sh¨­ch¨± she was pouring out.

    ¡®But¡­you haven¡¯t finished your dinner yet.¡¯

    Aya patted her stomach and said she¡¯d had enough already, and it was more important to repay the debt from earlier.

    ¡®You are a very strange girl,¡¯ said Reiko, putting the eight cups on a tray and then picking the whole thing up without any sense of caution at all. ¡®Ashigaru in here is bad for business, kicking them out had nothing to do with you.¡¯

    ¡®They were standing next to our table, leering¡­¡¯

    ¡®Happens to all young girls. Young boys too, sometimes.¡¯ She glanced at Miho, stopping just short of winking, then walked off to one of the tables on the far side of the izakaya. After chatting to the customers for a minute, she came back, patting both Miho and Aya on the shoulder. ¡®Still, if you really want to spend your leisure time serving drunk locals and salt merchants here, I won¡¯t stop you. And you will get paid for it, I insist.¡¯

    Aya opened her mouth to protest, but Reiko wasn¡¯t finished.

    ¡®Of course, if all you do is stand there gawping while that soup gets cold then you won¡¯t get anything.¡¯

    Miho looked down at the two bowls in his hands and¡­almost dropped them when Aya nudged him in the side and said to get on with it.

    ¡®Where? Which table?¡¯

    ¡®The couple who look half dead.¡¯ She pointed at an old guy and a thirty-something year old woman, both in matching pink yukatas, both incredibly sleepy-looking. ¡®Or the father and daughter. I¡¯m not sure.¡¯

    ¡®Wife and husband,¡¯ said Reiko, this time winking for real.

    ¡®Oh.¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t ask how old she was when they got married¡­¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­¡¯

    ¡®Soup. Go,¡¯ she said, pushing Miho towards the table and laughing when he tripped on his own zori and almost dropped both bowls onto the wife¡¯s lap.

    ¡®He¡¯s better at cooking,¡¯ said Aya, launching a soft defence.

    ¡®Yeah?¡¯

    ¡®A lot better.¡¯

    ¡®Sounds like a good catch.¡¯

    Aya made a gah sound, looking down at her hands and being momentarily confused when she couldn¡¯t see any soup bowls.

    ¡®Of course, we won¡¯t tell him that,¡¯ added Reiko with a smile.

    ~~~

    The impromptu, definitely paid shift lasted another two hours before Reiko finally called them over and said that all the food was done for the night.

    ¡®Still looks quite busy,¡¯ said Aya, looking around the izakaya and scratching her arm under the yukata sleeve.

    ¡®Because we close at 1am.¡¯

    ¡®Wah, that late?¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s what we¡¯re famous for. Open at one, close at one.¡¯

    ¡®You mean¡­you do a twelve hour shift, every day?¡¯

    ¡®When you say it like that, it makes me sound heroic. No, most days are pretty lethargic, it¡¯s just that it¡¯s festival season now and we get a lot of travellers from around the province. Other provinces too.¡¯

    ¡®Like us¡­¡¯ replied Miho, glancing at Aya to see if she would add anything to their background narrative.

    Nope, she was too busy scratching herself and seemingly counting out the number of remaining customers, or guessing the amount of sh¨­ch¨± left in their cups.

    ¡®I suppose I should ask¡­¡¯ continued Reiko, pouring out a cup of sh¨­ch¨±. ¡®What are your plans? Are you staying here for the Onbashira festival?¡¯

    ¡®Not sure yet,¡¯ answered Miho, adding a redundant shrug. ¡®I have to continue north, to Shinano.¡¯

    ¡®Is that where you¡¯re from, Shinano?¡¯

    ¡®No, no¡­it¡¯s where my girlfriend is. Or where I hope she is.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, girlfriend,¡¯ Reiko said quietly, glancing at Aya, who was still occupied with her sh¨­ch¨± calculations. ¡®Always nice to have one close by.¡¯

    ¡®Err¡­yeah. I think so.¡¯

    ¡®What about you, young lady? Are you off to Shinano too?¡¯

    Aya heard the young lady part and turned back, mentally sketching out the two faces staring back at her then saying, ¡®what?¡¯

    ¡®Are you going with your friend here to Shinano?¡¯

    ¡®Friend?¡¯ She looked at the vague outline of Miho and slowly shook her head. ¡®No. I don¡¯t know. Maybe.¡¯If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡®You seem unsure¡­¡¯

    ¡®Actually, I might just stay here. For a while.¡¯

    Reiko responded with the beginning trace of a smile, then downed the cup of sh¨­ch¨±. ¡®Well¡­if that¡¯s the case¡­if you¡¯re serious about it¡­then there¡¯s a job here for you any time you want. In fact, starting right now, if that¡¯s not too sudden?¡¯

    Aya pulled the hand out from her sleeve, rubbed the ends of the nails then stuck it back in again and resumed scratching.

    ¡®Why don¡¯t you take a rest, think about it for a while?¡¯

    ¡®The same shift?¡¯ she said sharply, pulling Reiko back from her attempt to leave with the sh¨­ch¨± bottle.

    ¡®That¡¯s right. One to one.¡¯

    Aya pushed her bottom lip over the top one and nodded like an arthritic rock dove. If Miho hadn¡¯t known her a little, he would¡¯ve thought she didn¡¯t understand Japanese, but he did know her and based on her intensive arm scratching, he was guessing the slowness had something to do with Himiko.

    Perhaps the idea of working for another employer so quickly, a woman who seemed like a replica of the last one, albeit a lot more gregarious?

    It seemed like a solid theory and, as they returned to their table by the open window, he briefly thought about saying it out loud¡­but then Aya stopped scratching and put her face flat on the table.

    ¡®Are you okay?¡¯

    ¡®Open to one in the morning¡­why? For who?¡¯

    ¡®I thought it would fit you quite well. Your trouble sleeping¡­the laidback customers and environment.¡¯

    Aya turned her face side-on and showed a barely existing eyeball to Miho¡­then a moon-sized one as she shot up and said, ¡®kuso¡­¡¯

    Miho turned fast, picking up a chopstick to fend off the bird or bear or ashigaru he expected to see coming through the open window.

    Then dropped it when he saw the grinning face of Akira staring back at him.

    ¡®No need for kuso, you little thieves,¡¯ he said, the jovial tone not at all matching his words. ¡®I come in peace and benevolence. And with a full yukata of new coins.¡¯

    ¡®How did you-¡­¡¯

    ¡®Find out where you were? Walked past, saw Miho¡¯s oblivious fat head and¡­magic, here I am. Point of advice by the way. Never take an open window seat. It¡¯s borderline suicidal.¡¯

    ¡®We¡¯re not in Kai Province anymore.¡¯

    ¡®Kai, Suwa, Echigo, they¡¯re all the same on some level. Spies everywhere. Which reminds me, I better get inside. Wait here¡­¡¯

    Akira vanished from the window and re-appeared a few seconds later at the entrance door panel. He managed to get two steps in before Reiko yelled at him to turn back around and get out.

    ¡®Excuse me, there seems to be a mistake. I am but a simple salt merchant passing through from-¡­¡¯

    ¡®A salt merchant with a katana in his belt.¡¯

    ¡®Protection,¡¯ Akira said quickly, moving his hand onto the guard¡­with the splint he¡¯d made for his injured wrist nowhere to be seen.

    Reiko left the bottle of sh¨­ch¨± on the table she was positioned next to then marched over to the entrance. Just as earlier in the day, there was no hesitation, no fear, she just put out a pointed hand and jabbed Akira in the chest.

    ¡®Gods in fresh shit¡­what the fuck are you doing, woman?¡¯

    ¡®Out. Go.¡¯

    ¡®I told you, I¡¯m a salt merchant from-¡­¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯ll be a pile of salt on the floor if you don¡¯t get out. Move, come on. And tell your ashigaru friends to stop pushing me or the shrine and Lord Suwa will hear about it¡­understand?¡¯

    ¡®Not a word or syllable¡­¡¯ Akira tried to grab Reiko¡¯s hand to stop her jabbing, but she was surprisingly fast, her fingers slipping out of his grasp each time. ¡®Will you stop jabbing¡­for one second?¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s okay,¡¯ said Miho, rushing over. ¡®He¡¯s with us.¡¯

    ¡®You see, my guarantor,¡¯ said Akira, stretching his arm out to point at Miho and immediately having it swatted aside. ¡®Kuso¡­¡¯

    ¡®Really, he¡¯s our friend.¡¯

    ¡®What, a salt merchant?¡¯

    ¡®Yes.¡¯

    ¡®With a katana?¡¯

    ¡®Defensive only¡­really. He¡¯s been attacked on the road before, several times. Last time, they beat him so bad, he was in bed for a week.¡¯ Miho edged round the side of Akira and brushed away some of his hair. ¡®Look, you can still see the wound.¡¯

    Reiko moved round the other side of Akira and squinted at the dried blood on his scalp. Then looked over at Aya, who may have nodded, it was too hard to tell, but it was apparently enough to earn the ashigaru a reprieve.

    ¡®You can stay as long as they do,¡¯ she said, putting her hand on the guard of his katana. ¡®But this goes in the back room with me.¡¯

    Looking down at her hand, then at the customers in the izakaya, Akira muttered, ¡®should¡¯ve gone straight to Suwa,¡¯ and relented.

    Reiko took out the katana and said, ¡®good boy,¡¯ then made her way over to the stairs by the counter. Then stopped, squinting at the side of the blade. ¡®Did you drop this in a river or something?¡¯

    ¡®No.¡¯

    ¡®Half of it¡¯s green.¡¯

    ¡®So? Just make sure you don¡¯t lose it.¡¯

    Reiko looked at the katana again, tilted it a little to check the other side, then shrugged and resumed course up the stairs.

    ¡®Think I preferred the weird couple,¡¯ Akira said to himself, following Miho back to the table and sitting down next to Aya. ¡®What¡¯s up with you?¡¯

    She shuffled away from him, her hand moving to one of the chopsticks still in her rice bowl.

    ¡®Relax, I¡¯m not gonna do anything. Here in peace, remember?¡¯

    ¡®I don¡¯t believe you.¡¯

    ¡®Good, good, scepticism¡­very healthy. You shouldn¡¯t trust anyone. In fact, if that couple hadn¡¯t taken me down to their weird little shrine room and given me a whole bowl of coins¡­and rubbed some fucking miracle cream on my wrist¡­then I probably would be beating you right now. But they did do all that. So I won¡¯t.¡¯ He paused, taking some of Miho¡¯s green tea. ¡®Besides, there¡¯s still an off-chance that I¡¯ll need to use you as a human shield at some point.¡¯

    ¡®Hey¡­¡¯ said Miho, frowning.

    ¡®Joke. I wouldn¡¯t do that. Got my fighting hand sorted now so probably no need. And then there¡¯s all the bonding we did on the road over here...¡¯

    ¡®All the arguing, more like.¡¯

    ¡®Exactly. Very enjoyable. Very sharp. Now, where¡¯s the sh¨­ch¨± in this fucking cavern?¡¯

    ~~~

    It took just over an hour for Akira to reach the slurred speech, I love all of you even Himiko level of drunkenness and that was probably cos he¡¯d already drunk half a bottle of sh¨­ch¨± earlier, on the road down to Uehara, in plain sight of everyone.

    ¡®Not bad as you think¡­¡¯ he said, words mangled, hands moving over to slide the window panel shut for the seventh time since he¡¯d got there. ¡®Suwa province now¡­no need to be all wary¡­scrutinising things. But a little bit¡­okay¡­spies are here, can report back¡­¡¯

    He stopped, studying his audience; Miho with his cup of green tea, and Aya toying with the dregs of her cold soup.

    ¡®Reminds me one time long back¡­years ago.¡¯ He burped, quickly grabbing the bottle and pouring out another shot of sh¨­ch¨±. ¡®Friend of me, two of us in the mountains¡­and the woman appears in the fire. Just sitting there, eating, stoking the flames and¡­looks little bit innocent, little bit nice and¡­no knife or complick¡­accomplice, bandit, that kind of thing¡­¡¯

    Another break as Akira downed the sh¨­ch¨±, his hand already gripping the bottle for the next shot.

    ¡®I think it¡¯s empty,¡¯ said Miho gently, watching the ashigaru tip the bottle upside down.

    ¡®Wah, too fast...¡¯

    ¡®Maybe it¡¯s a sign.¡¯

    ¡®No, big sign.¡¯ Akira raised a hand and shouted out ¡®dragon lady¡¯ across the izakaya. A few curses came back at him from the other patrons, but he didn¡¯t care much as Reiko had got his signal and was coming over. ¡®Where was I¡­the fire, woman eating, innocent¡­no accomplice, bandit. And my friend guy¡­he was this wild kind, bear-like¡­and he goes to her and¡­her hair, just strokes it¡­grabs it and strokes it¡­and does she like it? Maybe, who knows, cos next thing he¡¯s falling on her and¡­ah, sorry, accident, didn¡¯t mean to land on top of you and¡­she looks at him, eyeball into soul, death stare¡­¡¯

    ¡®What is it?¡¯ asked Reiko, stopping on the opposite side of the table and resting her hand on the bench behind Aya.

    Akira looked up, his mind clearly years back in the past, the face of Reiko merging with the woman in his tale.

    ¡®Okay, I think you¡¯ve had enough for the night.¡¯

    ¡®Katana¡­¡¯ he said, the word riding out on sh¨­ch¨± breath.

    ¡®That rusted thing? It¡¯s upstairs, in one of the vacant rooms.¡¯

    ¡®Need it.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, are you leaving?¡¯

    Akira responded by standing up, stumbling across to the next table [which was empty, fortunately] and then falling sideways onto the floor, bringing the wasabi bowl with him.

    ¡®He has money, right?¡¯ Reiko asked, turning to Aya and Miho.

    ¡®Yes,¡¯ replied Miho, nudging Aya in the side.

    ¡®Lots of money,¡¯ she added, a little dazed.

    ¡®Well, if he can make it up to the room where his katana is, he can sleep there. The two of you as well, assuming you don¡¯t have somewhere else already?¡¯

    ¡®No¡­thank you. We¡¯ll stay.¡¯

    Reiko nodded and moved over to Akira, kicking him in the side. He slurred a response then pulled himself up using the table leg, telling her he¡¯d changed his mind, it was too early to sleep and what he really needed to do was go for a peaceful late night stroll. With his good friend, katana.

    ¡®Fine, I¡¯ll go and get it¡­but I won¡¯t hand it over until you¡¯re standing outside.¡¯

    ¡®Outside. Inside. River bed.¡¯

    ¡®Okay, well¡­you just wait over there. Try not to fall down again.¡¯

    Shaking her head at the swaying ashigaru, she headed up the stairs and returned a minute later with the katana. Gesturing at him to come over, she then proceeded to walk outside.

    Then came back in twenty seconds later and told Akira to stop hassling the young woman in the pink yukata, she was already married.

    ¡®So am I,¡¯ he slurred and zig-zagged over to the door, disappearing outside along with Reiko.

    ¡®You think he¡¯ll be okay?¡¯ Miho asked Aya, who was leaning across to open up the window again.

    ¡®It¡¯s pretty quiet out there.¡¯

    ¡®Could be some bandits hiding by the river, beyond the treeline.¡¯

    ¡®He¡¯ll be fine.¡¯

    Miho nodded, taking more of his green tea. Aya¡¯s tone was quite distant, as if she were one of those festival psychics channelling a dead person¡¯s voice through her own, and the more he thought about the comparison, the less comfortable he felt about Yuki being alone out there.

    Unless she¡¯d found someone else to protect her?

    A stronger, more experienced man?

    Turning back to the table, he tried to focus on the soup bowl, the chopsticks, the other customers in the izakaya, but all of it had the faint image of Yuki¡¯s face laid out on top, and, as his mum always told him, if you want to stop worrying about a thing then it¡¯s better to talk about it, use it up, get tired of hearing its name.

    Following this advice, he put Aya in frame again, shivering slightly as for a brief moment, perhaps sh¨­ch¨± related, he saw himself pushing forward and kissing her, and then the two of them naked, entwined, her body slowly morphing into the whiter form of Yuki and-

    ¡®I¡¯m going to bed,¡¯ said Aya, dropping the chopstick on the table.

    ¡®What?¡¯

    ¡®Bed. Upstairs. You can stay here if you like.¡¯

    Miho watched her stand up and walk away from the table, choosing a route across the izakaya that evaded all other customers and then, finally, getting eaten up by the stairs.

    ¡®Yuki¡­Yuki¡­¡¯ Miho mumbled to his cup of green tea. ¡®Please don¡¯t be out on the road at night.¡¯

    The entrance door slid open and Reiko came back in. She looked over at the table and frowned, then decided to investigate.

    ¡®Aya gone to bed?¡¯

    Miho nodded. ¡®Just now.¡¯

    ¡®Odd. I didn¡¯t tell her which room you were in.¡¯ She looked across at the stairs, then back at Miho. ¡®It¡¯s seventeen, by the way. I¡¯ll give you the spare key when I come back down.¡¯

    ¡®Okay.¡¯

    Reiko hurried off, wiping something on her yukata as she went, and Miho went back to sipping green tea.

    Now that Akira and Aya were gone, the place felt empty, even though there were at least ten other customers on the nearby tables.

    Reminded him of the first week away from Nambu, when he¡¯d sat alone in the cheapest ryokans he could find, crying himself to sleep the first night then just lying still and staring up at the ceiling, painting imaginary scenes of him and Yuki chasing each other around the snowy mountains, drinking warm sh¨­ch¨±, snuggling up next to an acceptable fire, having sex for at least twenty minutes at a time, her cold breath making him tingle and-¡­

    A shout of ¡®Moooooove¡¯ from the street outside snapped him back, his hand moving to slide the window firmly shut.

    Better.

    No more noise.

    He looked at the empty seat next to him, at the stairs farther across.

    Tried to suppress the demon voice inside his brain screaming to get up there, kiss her, rip off her yukata, she¡¯s a dozen times better than that weirdo cold witch who barely answered your questions half the time, a dozen, dozen times infinite better.

    Then pushed himself up and muttered, ¡®she is quite funny, quite cute,¡¯ and headed over to the stairs.

    It was only one floor up and, as he checked the number on the first door panel, another one slid open farther down the passageway, with Reiko coming out and saying, ¡®key time.¡¯

    Handing over a small metal thing that would be incredibly easy to lose if drunk enough, he said good night and waited until she was a third of the way down the stairs, then slid open the door panel next to number seventeen.

    The room was empty, as was the futon. But Aya¡¯s bag was there.

    Which meant, somehow, she¡¯d come up and gone out again. Or she¡¯d gone to the bathing room.

    He leaned against the wall, and breathed out in relief. Or frustration. Possibly a mix of both.

    ¡®Probably for the best,¡¯ he mumbled, taking out the yellow-skinned demon stone from his bag, sounding out a bastardised version of the summoning phrase.

    Company or sleep?

    Yellow demon or¡­nothing?

    He rotated the stone in his hand and looked at the door panel, wondering if Aya would come back in with a towel wrapped around her chest.

    Or if she¡¯d go missing for the whole night again.

    His body dropped down on the futon, hands keeping the stone tight in their grip.

    Or if he¡¯d actually do anything when she did come back.

    If this was just loneliness

    the absence of Yuki

    or something else?

    If it was just-

    His eyelids sagged and his head went down onto the pillow, his body spreading out over one clear half of the futon in case she did come back.

    Which had to happen at some point

    her or Akira.

    One of the two.

    Hopefully her.