Shadow of the Fox

by Julie Kagawa

  The ride was fairly short, as the town wasn’t large, and soon the servants were sliding back the door of the kago, revealing a large, two-story ryokan—an inn—looming at the edge of the muddy road. Inside, I followed Masao up the stairs to a room at the end of a corridor and waited in the hall while he entered. A moment later, a servant slid back the door, releasing a few wisps of gray smoke, and beckoned me inside. The room beyond was cloaked in shadow and smelled of incense and tobacco. Cautiously, I stepped through the door and as it slid shut behind me, I dropped to my knees and pressed my forehead to the tatami mats.

  “Kage Tatsumi,” Masao purred. “The demonslayer.”

  “Come forward, boy,” a voice rasped, startling me with its harshness. “Come into the light. Let me see the bearer of the legendary Kamigoroshi.”

  Blinking away smoke, I raised my head and inched forward on my knees, squinting to see past the lamp that burned on the edge of a low table. Sake bottles lined the polished surface like ranks of warriors protecting their general, and incense hung thick in the air, smelling of smoke and sandalwood.

  Peering past the haze and the bottles, I caught a glimpse of the speaker and clenched my jaw to stop the sharp inhalation of breath. Only years of training and practice kept my features expressionless. It seemed as if Lady Hanshou’s face had been flayed, beaten and left out in the sun to burn before being set back on her sunken neck. Folds of skin hung from her sticklike arms; her hands were wizened bird’s claws, one of them clutching a long-handled pipe as if it was her lifeline to the living world. A few wispy white threads were still attached to her scalp, floating on the air like spider silk. One milky eye was half-shut, the other burned with such intensity that it bordered on madness.

  Lady Hanshou smiled a wide, toothless grin at my silence. “Not quite what you were expecting, eh, demonslayer?” she cackled. “Keep staring, but this face isn’t going to get any prettier.” Immediately, I pressed my face to the tatami mats again, but Lady Hanshou let out a snort. “Oh, get up, boy,” she snapped, sounding impatient. “Let me look you in the eyes. Merciful Kami, you’re young,” she exclaimed as I rose. “How old are you, boy? Fourteen?” Without waiting for an answer, she swatted Kage Masao’s leg with the back of her hand. “Masao-san! How old is he now?”

  “He is seventeen, my lady.”

  “Is he?” Hanshou’s face took on an expression that could have passed for surprise. “He looks younger than that. Ah, but you all look like babies to me.” She groped for a sake bottle, somehow managing to leave the empty ones undisturbed. Masao took the bottle and poured her a cup of the rice wine, which she downed in a single gulp, then held the cup out for more.

  “You hide your disgust well.” With a start, I realized she was speaking to me. Her unclouded eye rolled up to fix me with a bright, intense stare. “Better than Ichiro-san, his lurking little pupil, or even Masao-san here. I was not always like this, you know.” She sniffed and blew out a cloud of smoke, which curled around me like grasping tendrils. “Once, I was so beautiful Emperor Taiyo no Gintaro himself wished to make me his bride, and pined after me when I refused.”

  I did not know that emperor’s name. Taiyo no Genjiro was the current emperor ruling from the Golden Palace, and Taiyo no Eiichi was the emperor before him. Not knowing what to say, I remained silent. Hanshou eyed me, her voice turning sly, her lips twisted into a leer. “I could have stolen even your affection, demonslayer,” she stated in a raspy voice. “Made you lust after me as the demon in your sword lusts for battle. You would not have been able to resist. What do you think of that?”

  Masao cleared his throat. “My lady, time grows short,” he said. “You will not be able to remain out in this weather much longer. We need to return to Hakumei Castle tonight.”

  Hanshou pouted. “Oh, very well,” she sighed. “I suppose I shouldn’t tease the boy any longer. But you’re no fun at all, Masao-san.” Sitting a little straighter, she stuck the pipe in her mouth and glared down her nose at me. “Kage demonslayer, I have called you here personally for a very important task. Tonight, I will send you on the mission you were born for.”

  She gestured, and Masao came forward to lay several sheets of paper on the table before me. I picked them up. A few were travel documents with the Kage daimyo’s seal; papers that let you pass through the territories of the other clans without being detained at the checkpoints. I was surprised, but only for a moment. Technically, the land was at peace. The last emperor had forbidden open warfare, and the clans had been enjoying a rare period of calm between centuries of fighting and bloodshed. Recently however, it had flared up again, surprising no one. There was too much animosity, too many grudges and feuds and personal vendettas between the Great Clans; all it would take was a single aggressive act, an insult that could not be ignored, and the daimyos would be at each other’s throats again. If I was discovered sneaking through a rival clan’s territory without permission, that might be the act of aggression needed to declare war. And though I was certain I could do it without being caught, I understood Lady Hanshou’s precaution.

  The other paper was a scroll that, when smoothed out, displayed a map of the mountains somewhere in Earth Clan territory. A river snaked across the map, cutting through forest and plains, heading north. I thought I recognized it as the Hotaru Kawa, the river that eventually led to Kin Heigen Toshi, the great capital city in the center of Sun Clan territory. The capital, however, was not my destination. By the X marked at the top of the largest mountain peak, I assumed that was my target.

  “The Silent Winds temple sits atop the Niwaki Mountains on the eastern edge of Tsuchi lands,” Lady Hanshou said, confirming my suspicion. “You will go to the gates posing as a pilgrim, asking to spend the night. If they let you in, so much the better. If not, you will infiltrate the temple some other way. It doesn’t matter how you get in, only that you find what you were sent for.”

  “Understood,” I replied. A temple full of monks was not my normal mark; most orders were peaceful, reflective organizations that stayed neutral from the politics and fighting of the clans. But it was not my place to question my daimyo. “Who is my target?”

  “This is not a killing,” Lady Hanshou replied, to my immense surprise. “I am sending you to retrieve an item for me. I would rather there not be slaughter, but there could be instances where your particular talents will come in handy. I am sending you, Tatsumi, because Ichiro believes that among your fellow shinobi, you are the best, and getting to the item might prove challenging, even for one such as yourself.” Her good eye narrowed, her words becoming harsh. “But it is imperative that you retrieve the item. I don’t care what it takes, who you have to kill. Do not dare to return without it—that is an order from your daimyo.” Her voice grew even harsher, becoming a raspy growl that send a chill up my back. “Kage demonslayer, know that if you fail me, the consequences will be dire. We will be watching you, and the Shadow Clan does not tolerate disobedience. Do you understand?”

  “My lady, my life is bound to the Kage.” I bowed low once more, reciting the words that were expected. It didn’t matter if I meant them; they were true nonetheless. “And to you. I will not fail. Only tell me what I am searching for, and it will be done. What must I retrieve?”

  Lady Hanshou’s eye burned feverishly bright in the darkened room, and her lips curved in a faint smile. “A certain scroll I lost,” she whispered, “years and years ago.”

  4

  Tanuki Tea

  I hated lighting the candles in the main hall.

  Two hundred and seventy-seven. There were two hundred and seventy-seven candles that had to be lit, individually, around the room. Every evening, before sundown, so the monks could hold their nightly meditations. I don’t remember when it officially became my duty to light the candles; I suspected Denga or Nitoru had suggested the idea to Master Jin, the old monk who cared for the hall, to “teach me patience and dedication.” Certainl
y, you had to have both for this task. The main hall was enormous, with towering pillars and dark wood floors polished to such a sheen that you could see every flickering candle flame within. At the end of the hall stood the enormous green statue of the Jade Prophet, whose teachings all monks sought to emulate. There were no windows, and the only natural light came through the massive wooden doorway at the entrance, so the chamber was constantly dark and quiet. When all the candles were lit, they created a hazy orange glow throughout the room, transforming the hall into a surreal haven of shadow and dancing lights.

  But it took forever to light them all.

  I sighed, lowering the candlestick to gaze mournfully around the room. So many more to go. I hadn’t even reached the thirty or so candles on the altar. If only there was a way to light them all at once...

  I paused, and a grin spread across my face at the idea. Actually, I could light them all at once. I was kitsune, after all. Kitsune-bi was fire, wasn’t it? Heatless, magical fire, but much easier to manipulate than normal flames. The monks wouldn’t like it, of course. Nitoru and Denga definitely would not approve, but then, they didn’t approve of anything I did.

  I blew out the candle in my hand, then set it on the floor. Rising, I half closed my eyes, brought my open palm before my face and called on my magic.

  A ghostly, blue-white flame sputtered to life between my fingers. It flickered and danced harmlessly against my skin, casting eerie shadows over the walls and pillars, growing steadily larger until I cupped a glowing sphere of foxfire. For just a moment, I saw my shadow on the wall of the temple: a human figure with pointed ears and a bushy tail rippling behind it.

  Raising my head, I flung my hand out in an arc, and kitsune-bi scattered in all directions, tiny flames that flew across the room like falling stars. Lowering my arm, I observed my handiwork smugly. The hall now glowed with blue-white foxfire, luminescent flames that hovered on the end of candlewicks. In my opinion, it was much prettier than ordinary fire, though it did give the chamber a rather eerie, ghostly feel.

  But more important, all the candles were lit. And it was still a good hour until evening meditations. I was free until then. Dusting my hands, I headed for the exit.

  Voices outside made me freeze. I sidled along the wall to the door and peeked through the frame. Jin was walking up the steps toward the main hall and worse, Denga was beside him.

  Oh no. My ears flattened in alarm, and I backed swiftly away. If they caught me, I’d probably get a lecture: maybe on the value of patience and dedication to one’s task. Maybe they’d forbid me from using magic again. At the very least, they’d make me start over, lighting every candle one by one, under supervision this time.

  Hiding place. I need a hiding place, quickly.

  I hurried to the far wall and, with a whispered apology, ducked behind the enormous statue of the Jade Prophet, just as a furious shout rang from the entrance.

  “Foxfire!” Denga’s footsteps stalked into the room, and I peeked from behind the statue to watch him. The kitsune-bi cast a flickering white glow over his outraged face as he whirled, gesturing furiously. “The demon girl lit the candles with foxfire! Of all the...” He sputtered with rage. “When I find her—”

  “Now, Denga-san.” Jin’s voice echoed behind Denga, calm and amused. “She is just a child, after all, and a kitsune at that. She does not understand.”

  “No.” Denga spun one more time, glaring around the hall, before he turned and marched back toward the exit. “This has gone far enough. It’s become perfectly clear that she is more fox than mortal, that her yokai nature is overshadowing her humanity. Something must be done. I’ll not stand for her pranks any longer.”

  Jin blinked, watching him depart. “What are you planning to do, Denga-san?”

  “Speak to Master Isao and convince him to put a binding on her,” Denga replied, making my stomach twist. His voice drifted up the steps as he left the hall. “Seal away that infernal fox magic for good. Before we wake up and find a true demon in our midst.”

  My heart pounded. Jin watched Denga storm off, then sighed and began blowing out the kitsune-bi flames above the candles. He extinguished them one at a time, slowly and deliberately, his entire attention focused on his task. He would be done in a few minutes, but I did not want to stay here any longer, in case Denga returned with Master Isao and made good on his promise. Trying to slip out while Jin was in the room would likely get me caught, but I had one last, supremely forbidden, trick up my sleeve.

  At the statue’s base, I knelt, dug my fingers between a certain board and lifted it away, revealing a narrow hole that led under the floor of the main hall. It was too small for a human, even a petite human, to fit through. But I wasn’t just human. I was also kitsune.

  Closing my eyes, I summoned my power once more, feeling my heart start to pound with anticipation. Most fox magic was illusion and trickery, just as Denga had said. Images laid over truth, making you see and hear things that weren’t there. Flawless copies, but no more substantial than a reflection in a mirror. But there was one form that I could shapeshift into for real, though I was forbidden from using it without permission.

  Today seemed a good day to break all the rules.

  My body grew warm, and I experienced the abrupt sensation of shrinking rapidly, along with the familiar cloud of white smoke. When I opened my eyes, I was much closer to the floor. Sounds were sharper, shadows nearly nonexistent, and the air was alive with new smells: the musty earth, the sharp tang of metal and the hint of candle smoke still in the air. In the blurred reflection in the statue’s pedestal, a pointed muzzle and golden eyes stared back at me, a bushy, white-tipped tail curled around its legs.

  Master Isao did not approve of me being a fox. You are human, he’d told me on more than one occasion. Yes, you are kitsune, but being Yumeko is much harder than being a fox. If you spend too much time in that body, someday you might forget what it means to be mortal.

  I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that and right now, it didn’t matter. Ducking my head, I slipped easily into the hole, glided beneath the floorboards and came out beneath the veranda. After making sure no monks, and especially Master Isao, were nearby, I headed into the garden, to the old maple tree leaning against the temple walls. Fox paws were quick and nimble, and the wood was very rough; I scurried up the gnarled trunk, dropped to the other side and escaped into the cool stillness of the forest.

  * * *

  Later that evening, I was sitting on a flat rock beside my favorite quiet pond, dangling my bare feet in the water, as I pondered what to do next. Jewellike dragonflies zipped over the mirrorlike surface, and small whiskered fish swam lazily below my feet, eyeing my human-again toes. The sun had warmed the rock, and a breeze whispered through the bamboo grove surrounding the pond. It was a good place to forget your troubles, and I often came here when life at the temple got too dull, or when I was hiding from Denga. Normally, the water, the breeze and the fish could erase my worries in no time. But today, I couldn’t forget what had been said in the temple hall.

  Seal away my magic? Just like that? Make it so I couldn’t weave illusions, change my shape, or call upon my foxfire? That seemed excessive. I’d never actually hurt anything with my pranks, except Denga’s pride. And maybe a sliding panel or two.

  I glanced at my reflection in the water. A girl with pointed ears and yellow eyes stared back, bushy tail curled behind her. She is more fox than mortal, Denga had raged as he’d stormed out of the hall this evening. Her yokai nature is overshadowing her humanity.

  “That’s not true,” I told the kitsune staring back at me. “I’m still mostly human. At least, I think I am.”

  “Talking to yourself, little fox cub?”

  I glanced up. A squat old woman was making her way slowly around the edge of the pond. She wore a ragged robe, a wide-brimmed straw hat and tall wooden sandals that sank into the grass as she mince
d along the bank. In one gnarled hand she held a bamboo pole, resting on a shoulder; the other gripped a cluster of tiny fish dangling from a string. Her eyes glimmered yellow beneath the brim of her hat as she looked up at me.

  I smiled. “Good evening, Tanuki-baba,” I greeted politely. “What are you doing out here?”

  The old woman snorted and raised the cluster of fish. “Planting flowers, what does it look like?”

  I frowned in confusion. “But...those are fish. Why would you be planting flowers, Tanuki-baba? You don’t eat them.”

  “Exactly. Some of us actually have to work for our food, unlike some spoiled, naive half foxes I won’t name.” She eyed me from under her hat, raising a thin gray eyebrow. “But what are you doing out so late, cub? Those humans of yours don’t like it when you wander off.” She chuckled, showing a flash of yellow teeth. “Is Denga-san on the warpath? Did you turn the cat into a teakettle again?”

  “No, not in a long time—it scratches me when I try to put a leaf on its head. But...” I shivered, clutching at my arms. The sun-warmed rock suddenly felt cold. “Denga-san was angry,” I told her. “More than I’ve ever seen before. He said I was more yokai than human, and that Master Isao should put a binding on me. What if Master Isao listens to him? What if he really does seal off my magic? I...” I faltered, feeling my stomach twist at the thought losing my power. “I can’t imagine having no magic. It would be worse than cutting off my fingers or plucking out my eyes. If that happens, what will I do?”

  Tanuki-baba snorted. “Come,” she said, gesturing down the trail with the end of her bamboo rod. “I’ll make you some tea.”

  I hopped down and followed the hunched form away from the pond, onto the narrow winding path through the bamboo forest. Her pole bobbed as she walked, and the tip of a bushy brown tail peeked from beneath the hem of her robe. I pretended not to notice, just as I knew she pretended not to see my ears and tail. It was an unspoken rule among yokai; one did not call attention to their...yokai-ness if one did not want be haunted, harassed, or cursed with extremely bad luck. Not that I was afraid Tanuki-baba would do so. To me she had always been a grandmotherly old yokai, and the stories of the tricks she used to play on humans when she was a young tanuki were always entertaining, if sometimes scary.