by M. H. Bonham
The stench of rotting fish made her gag as she tried to gain purchase in the sack. Her claws snagged as she bounced along. A growl bubbled up from her throat, and she tried to turn herself upright but to no avail. It was the most humiliating and infuriating thing she had ever experienced. Suddenly the jostling stopped as quickly as it began. Good, she thought. When they open the bag up, I’ll hop out.
“You have a stick? Let’s kill it.”
Kasumi’s growl became a snarl. That snarl soon became a roar. Without thinking, she grew in size, tearing the burlap sack as the boys dropped it. She found herself standing in full tiger form not far from a small fire with a spit hung over it and a couple of crude knives beside it. They were behind one of the wrecked huts, just inside the tangled forest. Many of the trees had fallen in the storm, and leaves and branches were scattered everywhere.
She shook the tiny sack off her nose and stared at the two boys, who stood motionless, their hands gripping the sticks they were going to use to kill her.
No one will kill me! she roared at the boys, who took a step backward, too terrified to do much more.
“I’m sorry, sorry, great tora,” the older of the boys stammered. “We were hungry. The winds destroyed our homes. My parents are gone…”
Silence! Kasumi roared again. One of the boys stepped backward and lost his footing. The other turned and ran.
Kasumi stalked over to the boy on the ground. It would be fitting that she kill him after he tried to murder her. He shivered violently and she could smell the urine, sweat, and fear emanating from the boy. She raised her paw to take a swipe at him.
She heard a shriek, which stopped her from tearing into the boy. The loud, high-pitched scream was inhuman yet terribly human. The shriek stopped as suddenly as it started. The boy next to her opened his mouth, and his eyes went wide with terror. Something had killed the other boy.
Few things scared Kasumi when in tiger form, yet fear gripped her as she listened for the sound of a predator, but she heard nothing. She used her kami senses in an attempt to discover what it might be.
Then she sensed it. Deep within the forest, she could feel the coldness of the shadow demon. She felt her hackles rise as she looked beyond the boy toward the encroaching darkness. It crept along the ground where the other boy had gone. The stench of demon filled her nostrils, and she shivered despite herself. The demon’s power lay in shadows and darkness; for her to fight it now would be folly. She had to get back to the light.
A small whimper brought her back to the boy who had tried to kill her. I won’t kill you today, she said. Run if you value your life.
The boy didn’t move.
Run! Kasumi shouted. She backed away, fighting the urge to run as she sensed the demon drawing closer. The boy did nothing.
Kasumi watched in horror as the darkness flowed across the ground like fog rolling in from the sea. She scooted along the hut’s wreckage and turned to flee.
She leaped into the air as the boy screamed in terror then in agony. Kasumi didn’t look behind as she ran, terrified that the demon would chase her down and take her. She ran in the light of the early morning, hoping it would be enough to keep the demon at bay.
She continued to run and almost tripped on the Tengu that lay in a mass of feathers on the beach.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Akira awoke, much to his shock, staring into the face of a tiger. He had been asleep when he heard something running toward him. He had slept here on the beach all night, feeling miserable about the village. Now he was face-to-face with a tiger.
The tiger had been running but had stopped short on seeing him. That in itself was odd because no one save kami could see him in his present form. The tiger, then, had to be kami or some sort of supernatural creature. But there were no tigers on Tsuitori. Tigers lived on the outer islands such as Neko-shima and Oni-seki; humans on the more populated islands had long ago killed the most dangerous predators.
“What the…?” Akira got to his feet, hand on his katana’s tsuba. He was about to say something when he was overcome by an odd sensation and turned to look in the direction the tiger had come from. The tiger growled low and stared in that direction. Akira got the sense that something was pursuing the tiger.
Akira stood up. He doubted anything could really harm him while he was in this Tengu form. What’s following you, tora?
The tiger’s voice rumbled. There is an oni chasing me. You must run too. The tiger leaped away in the opposite direction from which it had come.
Oni—demon. Akira frowned. Despite the initial stab of fear, he paused and considered his options. As a Tengu, he was nearly invincible. He had killed a dragon while in Tengu form, and even the most serious wounds Windcatcher had inflicted on him healed fast. Was an oni worse than a dragon? He didn’t think so.
Instinctively he knew he could destroy it. Demons were enemies of all, even Tengu, and while the Tengu delighted on tricking and even causing misfortune to humans, they were not oni. Oni were otherworldly creatures bent on destroying all life. And while the Tengu were troublemakers at worst, they were benefactors at their best and not truly evil.
“Help! Help!” A ten-year-old girl, her kimono torn and muddy, ran toward Akira. Behind the child came a wave of darkness that Akira had never seen before. Akira stared at the darkness, horrified. A sour stench, like that of rotting corpses, assailed his nostrils. The child ran past him, oblivious to him.
Without thinking, Akira summoned the wind kami. They roared with delight as he sent them hurtling toward the darkness. The wind shuddered as it buffered the oni but did not change directions. Instead, it blew harder yet. The oni tried to solidify with the wind’s buffeting. It grew into a monstrous creature with glowing red eyes and claws. The demon lashed out at the wind kami, but it could not catch the wind within its dark claws. Instead, the wind roared and tore at the shadow creature, whirling around it in a terrible cyclone.
Akira concentrated on the wind, bringing his power to bear against the demon. The wind screamed its fury at the demon, and the oni howled as the wind tore it apart. It flung the pieces of demon high in the air and ripped the pieces until there was nothing left. Only then did Akira stop. He closed his eyes and sank to the sandy beach in exhaustion.
Well done, Stormhammer.
Akira didn’t bother looking up at Windcatcher. “Go away,” he muttered.
You are weak because you are hungry.
A tray laden with rice cakes, sashimi, miso, and hot tea appeared before him. Akira was tempted to ignore the food, but his stomach growled at the smell, and he felt so weak, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand. He took the miso and downed it then drank the tea. The hot, salty broth tasted wonderful, and the tea warmed him.
Feeling slightly better, he started on the rice cakes and the fish. The mochi was sweet and filled with adzuki bean paste. He devoured the slightly salty fish. When he was done eating, he looked up, expecting to see Windcatcher gone. He wasn’t.
Good, said the Tengu. You’ll need your strength for training. That was very impressive control of the winds, my brother. Many lesser Tengu couldn’t accomplish that.
“Don’t call me that,” Akira said.
What—brother?
“Yes.” Akira frowned. He didn’t like the idea that one of these creatures was related to him.
Why not when it is the truth?
“You’re not my brother,” Akira replied. “I don’t have a brother—not one whom I could trust. You might have been hatched—or whatever you were—from my mother, but you’re no brother of mine.”
If Windcatcher was affronted, he didn’t show it. You don’t wish to be one of us, and yet you use your Tengu powers just as we do.
“You hurt people,” Akira said. “You don’t care about anyone.”
Not true. We would’ve destroyed the oni as you had done.
Akira shook his head. “I want to go home.”
Windcatcher’s yellow eyes became pinpricks. You can’t go back
, Stormhammer. The Tengu council has determined that you must stay with us. Like it or not, Stormhammer, you are Tengu.
“I am samurai.”
Samurai. Akira heard scorn in Windcatcher’s voice. What is samurai but human? Weak, gullible, mortal humans who grovel in the dirt to eke a meager existence.
“The samurai are warriors,” Akira said. “We were ordained to be noble and rule the other classes justly.”
Windcatcher clacked his beak together and wagged his head as though something were stuck in his mouth. Akira stared as he realized the Tengu was laughing at him. He felt his face turn hot.
Silly fledgling! Windcatcher said. You really believe that?
Akira’s throat went dry, and he glared at the Tengu. “We’re better than you.”
Really? Ask that of the peasant who fails to bow to a samurai. Or maybe the farmer who must give up most of his rice to serve the daimyo or the samurai army. Ask that of the warriors whom the samurai demand commit suicide should they fail them. Or the families of those samurai who were not victorious.
Akira frowned and looked down at the ground, his eyes unfocused on the white grains of sand. His family had always been good to the peasants on Tsuitori, but he knew they were in the minority. He hadn’t really thought about the other samurai since they were so distant on different islands. In fact, with the exception of his father’s vassals, the only other samurai he had met had been Jiro and Kasumi. Kasumi was pleasant enough, but Jiro had been nasty and aggressive. He looked up again and saw, much to his chagrin, Windcatcher nodding. “There are bad samurai, just as there are good samurai.”
There is no such thing as good slavery, Stormhammer.
“You’ve made me into a slave.”
No, we’ve brought you back to your people.
Akira shook his head. Could their reasoning be this simple? Did they really consider him one of their own? If so, why didn’t they insist on Ikumi returning to them? “You knew I existed long before I fought that dragon. You could’ve taken me anytime. And what about Ikumi? She didn’t want to be with you.”
A long pause ensued, and Akira caught a brief emotion flickering in those inscrutable yellow eyes. What was it? Sadness? Regret? Akira wondered if perhaps there was something the Tengu felt that he didn’t recognize. Maybe they didn’t recognize it in themselves.
We know, Windcatcher said softly. We couldn’t be certain if you would follow your human or kami nature. The blending of human and kami is rare and imperfect. As far as I know, you are the only half-Tengu creature. Stormdancer forsook us because of a mortal. It caused us great pain, but we abided by her decision. It was you who changed our minds. We knew that a blending of Tengu and human could make a dangerous creature.
“Dangerous to whom?” Akira stared at Windcatcher. “Listen, I don’t want to hurt anyone innocent, and yet the Tengu let me destroy that village.”
A village is nothing compared to what you are capable of.
Akira shook his head. “I want to go home. I want to live my life as samurai and nothing else. If this is what Tengu power is like, I don’t want it.”
You have no choice, Stormhammer.
“My name is Akira. Takeshi Akira. I am the son of Takeshi Isao.”
You are Stormhammer, son of Stormdancer and a mortal.
“I don’t want to be a Tengu. I’ve killed people.”
Samurai kill people. But you have a chance at saving people if you wish to use your powers in that fashion.
Akira paused. “I can?”
Yes. You were able to save that child; that demon would’ve killed it. And then there is the matter of how the demon got here, Windcatcher said.
Akira cocked his head, Tengu-like. “I don’t understand.”
Demons cannot come to this world without some sort of help. There is only one demon gate, and it is guarded. The only other way is through human or kami intervention. And no kami would bring a demon into this world.
“So you’re saying that a human might have done this?”
Yes. Windcatcher looked into Akira’s eyes. And now you know why we are training you. You see, we believe that a human is bringing demons into this world.
Akira stared at his half brother. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”
Windcatcher shrugged. And if I did, what difference would it make?
“I would know,” Akira said. “I would understand that the training is important. But why train me? You’re a Tengu. There are other Tengu around here. I’ve seen them. They could destroy a demon, just as I have.”
Can we? The Tengu preened his feathers.
“Can’t you?”
It is this reason that I think you need to train with something far more powerful. I think you need a greater weapon. With that, a long sword materialized in his hands. It was curved like the katana but was much larger. By the look of it, Akira would need two hands to wield it. It had a longer hilt and its pommel was embellished with silver dragons and Tengu. Its scabbard was silver and black like the scales of a dragon.
“A no-dachi?” Akira breathed. He immediately thought of Windstorm wielding such a weapon against him. “You’re giving me a no-dachi?”
If you train and prove yourself, we will give this no-dachi to you. But until then, you must train with us. Only then can we be certain that you will use this weapon the way it must be used.
Akira looked at the sword. Despite everything he had said, despite the fact he wanted to end this brutal training, despite his anger at having his mother taken away from him, he wanted the sword and was willing to train to get it. Something about the sword resonated deep within him; something unexplainable drew him to it. He knew that the sword had been forged for him; whether it was by the Tengu, he couldn’t tell. But he knew deep inside that he had to wield it.
Akira took a deep breath. Windcatcher watched him closely. “All right,” he said. “You win. I’ll train.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Kasumi reached the forest when she turned and looked back at the Tengu who stood between her and the demon. Instead of running, he had turned to face the oni as it bore down on him. A wave of nausea from demon-sickness assailed her, and her gorge began to rise. The Tengu shouted something in words that sounded like the wind through the trees, and Kasumi saw the wind kami hasten to him. The wind grew and attacked the demon in a terrible storm.
Kasumi turned to run and stumbled over her great paws. Her mouth foamed and she drooled as a terrible headache started behind her ears and pounded ferociously. She couldn’t do anything except drag herself to her feet and stumble deeper into the forest.
The forest’s cool darkness gave her some solace, and as her feet splashed through a small stream, she bent down and lapped the water. She let the cool, sweet water flow across her muzzle and wash the foam from it. She continued through the forest, oblivious to her surroundings. Eventually she stopped and with a final effort, changed into a small cat once more. She found a bit of deadfall and, hoping it would conceal her enough, crawled under it. With that, Kasumi sank into unconsciousness.
#
Tenko milled around his hut impatiently. The Neko samurai had disappeared again and he was worried, despite himself. She had obviously slipped out sometime before dawn, but it was growing dark again, and the shadows lengthened.
Kasumi had not talked about the shadow demon that followed her, but Tenko knew the stench of oni when he smelled it. The demons had obviously marked the girl, but why? Perhaps it was something to do with the mission she wouldn’t talk about.
He couldn’t understand why Ikumi and Akira were so important to her. She displayed none of the moony tendencies a teenage girl would show when talking about the boy. In fact, her behavior was so warrior-like, it impressed him. She had been raised as a samurai warrior, not a court lady or even a courtesan. He suspected that the Neko had much to do with that.
So what was Naotaka Kasumi Neko’s purpose for being there? What would bring a powerful Neko to Tsuitori? And why would Kasumi be in
terested in Ikumi’s son?
He went to the back door and gathered a few pieces of wood to start the fire for cooking. The girl can take care of herself, he thought but did not quite believe it. Kitsune had a fundamental understanding on the nuances of how things worked, especially when it came to magic. She is a tora, after all, he reminded himself, but it gave no comfort. Instead, he brought the wood inside and threw it on top of the smoldering embers. He then picked up a jar of herbs and poured some of the contents into his quaking hands.
The herbs smelled faintly of ginger and lilac as he threw them into the fire. “Show me the girl,” he whispered as the flames caught the dry herbs. The smoke entwined as it curled its way through the hole in the roof. The flames danced, changing from lilac to red then orange. Deep within the smoke and the flames, the forest appeared. Curled up beneath some fallen logs, a small tawny cat lay. The cat opened its foam-covered mouth in labored breath, her tail lashing violently, and her limbs stiff. Her paws flexed and tightened, showing each claw then retracting them.
Tenko frowned as the vision faded. He knew the signs of demon-sickness when he saw it. He shook his head. The girl could be anywhere. He would have to search for her in kitsune form and figure a way to bring her back.
He shed his clothing and opened the door before changing form and heading into the forest.
As a fox, Tenko’s senses were better than average, and he quickly picked up Kasumi’s scent along the ground. The trail took him southeast, toward the port where the storm had struck earlier. As he picked his way among the pines and bamboo, he caught a whiff of something that made him quaver. He smelled the stench of oni on the wind.
Why am I searching for this girl when it is obvious the demons have marked her? he asked himself. The girl thought him not much more than a foolish old man. The greater kami often thought little of the smaller kami. He ought to just leave her—wherever she was—to meet her fate with the demons. But part of him could not allow that. She was a Neko, true, the daughter of demon slayers. There weren’t many Neko left; the fact she was half human was a testament to that sad fact. What’s more, if he didn’t find her soon with the oncoming night, she would die of demon poisoning, or perhaps the demon would finish her.