by Julie Kagawa
Then he grimaced, and dropped to his knees on the stones, one hand going to his side. Blood gushed from somewhere beneath his robes, spreading across the fabric and staining it crimson. The demon’s smirk turned into a grin.
“You can’t beat me, human.” The oni’s voice held the certainty of death. “Even in Jigoku, I was Hakaimono’s equal when it came to battle. He had the stronger personality, and I had no desire to lead, but in a one-on-one fight I might have killed him, and we both knew it. You have no chance against me.” He took a step forward, causing the Taiyo to glance up, his face tight. “But you were a challenge for a human, and that’s not something I can usually say. I’ll do you a favor and end this quickly.”
He raised his sword, but jerked back as an arrow streaked toward his head, missing him by inches. “Oy, ugly. Did you forget I’m here, too?” called the ronin’s harsh voice. Though he still slumped painfully against the rocks, his bow was raised and his quiver lay beside him on the ground. “Just because I can’t stand doesn’t mean I won’t shove arrows through your ugly face.”
“No, Okame-san!” Clenching his jaw, Daisuke pushed himself to his feet. Blood soaked one side of his robes, pooling on the rocks beneath him, but he still raised his sword and faced the demon proudly. “This is my fight,” he said calmly. “Please, do not interfere. I am not defeated yet.”
“Dammit, peacock.” The ronin gritted his teeth, but reluctantly lowered the bow. “I said I’d chase that glorious death with you,” he almost whispered. “I never thought...I would be the one watching you die.”
The oni chuckled, low and ominous. “Oh, don’t worry, human,” he said, glancing at the ronin with an evil smile. “Neither of you are leaving this mountain alive. Have you forgotten there are two enemies here?” His grin widened, and his eyes glimmered red. “We haven’t.”
Daisuke paled, and at that moment, a shadow slid from a crevice above the ronin, black eyes narrowed with hate. The scorpion woman, somehow alive, pulled her lips back from her teeth as she glared at the ronin below her and raised her kunai, the throwing dagger glimmering black in the moonlight.
“For my sister,” she hissed, and brought her hand down. Without thinking, Suki flew at her with a shriek, and the world seemed to slow.
The female demon jerked back, eyes going wide, as Suki appeared in front of her with a ghostly wail. The knife, however, still left her fingers as below them, the ronin twisted, somehow bringing up his weapon. The bow in his hand thrummed as he fired one blind, desperate shot, an instant before the black knife slammed into his chest. At the same time, Suki felt something foreign and cold zip through her body, fraying it like mist as it passed through, and the arrow struck the demon through one shiny black eye. The demon jerked, then toppled backward, her body spasming against the rocks as she finally died.
“No, Okame!”
The noble’s shout echoed behind her. Numb, Suki looked back as Daisuke strode toward the oni with his sword at his side. The look on his face chilled her; it wasn’t one of rage, anger or grief, but a focused, icy resignation. Halfway to his enemy, he lunged, moving blindingly quick, cutting savagely at the demon’s head. The oni took a step back, letting the point of the sword barely graze him, and plunged his sword through Daisuke’s stomach, the obsidian point exploding out his back.
Someone screamed. A moment later, Suki realized the high-pitched, keening wail was her. Impaled on the demon’s sword, Daisuke staggered, blood pouring down his clothes and staining his entire front red, but he didn’t fall. Before the oni could yank the blade free, one hand reached up and gripped the demon’s wrist, holding it in place. As the oni blinked in surprise, the noble raised his head, a defiant smile crossing his features, before he took one step forward, pulling himself along the blade, and drove his sword through the demon’s chest, sinking it nearly to the hilt.
The oni’s eyes bulged, mouth gaping, but nothing came out. Still with that faint smile on his face, Daisuke twisted the hilt of his sword around and yanked it up, through the demon’s collarbone, and brought the weapon slicing down through the monster’s neck. The oni’s head, still wearing a stunned, incredulous expression, toppled backwards, bounced over the rocks, and dropped off the edge of the cliff, vanishing into the waves far below.
Taiyo Daisuke staggered back, tearing himself from the oni’s sword, as the monster’s headless body fell to its knees then collapsed to the rocky ground. The noble’s entire front, from the chest down, was covered in red, and streams of crimson pooled in the stones beneath him.
For a moment, he stayed upright, the wind ruffling his hair and the bloody remains of his robe and sleeves. His face, lifted to the sky, was serene, and for just a moment, Suki dared to hope. To believe that the noble Taiyo, the beautiful swordsman who had smiled at a lowly maid in the halls of the Golden Palace, would be fine.
Then his blade dropped from his fingers, hitting the rocks with a clink that sent a chill through Suki’s entire insubstantial body. Taiyo Daisuke swayed, then fell to his knees on the stones, bowing his head. Suki sobbed his name, screamed his name, her voice tossed by the wind howling up from the sea, but he didn’t move.
“Oy. Don’t you dare die yet, peacock.”
Suki jerked up. The ronin was crawling over the rocks toward the noble, pulling himself painfully along the ground. He left a trail of red behind him, but his jaw was set, his eyes glassy with determination as he dragged himself, inch by agonizing inch, toward the body slumped on its knees a few yards away. Suki dropped lower, wanting to encourage him, desperately wishing she could do something to help him reach his goal. When the ronin paused, collapsing to the dirt and panting through gritted teeth, Suki drifted down until she hovered directly over Daisuke-sama, letting her light spill over the motionless body.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered. “You’re almost there. Don’t let him die alone.”
The ronin raised his head. With a surge of determination, he pushed himself upright and half staggered, half fell over the rocks until he reached the kneeling body. Gasping, he lay there a moment, his features twisted with pain, as lightning flickered and the clouds swirled overhead.
“Okame.”
The word was barely a breath, a whisper on the wind. Daisuke turned his head, gazing at the ronin lying beside him, and one bloody hand twitched. “You’re here. For-forgive me.”
“Dammit, peacock,” the ronin gritted out. Clenching his jaw, he struggled to a sitting position, then gently reached out and eased the other back until both of them were braced against a rock, the noble leaning against his chest. Daisuke slumped, relaxing in the ronin’s arms, and Suki drifted higher, giving them a little privacy. Silently, she hovered overhead, casting them in a faint light—the ronin, and the noble they both loved—as the wind howled and night fell over Taiyo Daisuke’s final moments.
“Well.” The ronin’s quiet, weary voice was the first to break the silence. “Looks like you got your wish, peacock. That was one hell of a glorious death.”
Daisuke raised a trembling hand, clasping the ronin’s palm resting against his chest. “I am glad you’re here, Okame,” he breathed with his eyes still closed. “And I am...pleased that you will survive this. If one of us made it... I was hoping it would be you.”
But the ronin shook his head. “No,” he murmured in a resigned voice. “I’ve lost too much blood. And I’m pretty sure those knives were poisoned. Don’t worry, peacock.” A faint, rueful smirk tugged at one corner of his lip as he bowed his head. “I’m not about to break my promise. I’ll be following you soon enough.”
“Together then, after all,” Daisuke murmured, as the ronin’s free hand brushed a strand of bloody hair from his cheek. “No...regrets, Okame?”
“Regrets.” The ronin gave a soft chuckle. “Peacock, before I met you, Yumeko-chan and everyone else, I was a bandit and a ronin with no purpose in the world. I didn’t care about anything, because I t
hought there was nothing in this life worth caring for. Not honor, family, friends or empire.” The hint of a smile crossed his face, and he shook his head. “Then this impudent little fox girl gave me a second chance, and everything changed. I’ve been to places few mortals have ever seen. I’ve fought things straight out of the legend scrolls. And I’ve been a part of something far greater than anyone, especially an honorless ronin dog, could ever hope for.”
He paused, a shadow of pain going through his eyes for a moment, before it smoothed out again. “So no, peacock,” he sighed. “I have no regrets. If I never joined Yumeko that day, I would still be a worthless, wandering ronin with no goals, no friends and nothing redeemable about him. And I never would have seen Oni no Mikoto on the bridge that night and, for the first time, wished I could be something more.”
Daisuke’s arm lifted, and he pressed a palm against the ronin’s jaw. “You were...always something more to me,” he whispered, and Okame closed his eyes. “Do you think...they’ll tell stories of us, Okame?”
“I hope so,” the ronin choked out, pressing his own hand over Daisuke’s. “Or at least a tragic poem that will make everyone cry when they hear it.”
“I would like that,” Daisuke whispered. His eyes opened, peaceful and calm, gazing up at the sky. “I feel...warm,” he murmured. “Light. I think... I think it’s time, Okame.”
The ronin blinked, and a streak of moisture ran down his cheek as he lowered his head, pressing his lips to Daisuke’s. “Go on, then,” he whispered, smiling through the tears on his face. “You’ve earned it. And don’t worry about me. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Okame.” Suki could barely hear him now. The noble’s voice was a breath that the wind tore away and scattered over the sea. His eyes closed, and he sank further into the ronin’s arms. “I’ll...wait for you,” he whispered. “Don’t be...too long.”
His body slumped, and the hand still pressed against the ronin’s cheek slid away, dropping into his lap. The ronin let out a quiet breath and leaned back, gazing up at the sky. His dark eyes fell on Suki hovering overhead, and a faint smile crossed his face.
“Still hanging around, yurei?” he murmured, though it was mostly to himself. “I guess if we get lost on our way to Meido, we’ll at least have a guide. Oy, Suki-chan, wasn’t it?” the ronin went on, his eyes focusing on her. “If you see Yumeko again, tell her...thank you. For taking in a stray dog. She’s going to cry, but...we’ll see each other again. I don’t regret a thing. It was one hell of an adventure.”
He drew in a shuddering breath and sighed, as his eyes flickered shut. “Kuso,” he muttered, his voice growing fainter. “I wish... I could’ve seen the end. I hope you and Kage-san make it, Yumeko-chan. If not... I guess I’ll see you both soon enough.”
Painfully, the ronin straightened, bowing his head so that his lips brushed the noble’s cheek. “All right, peacock,” Suki heard, though his voice was nearly gone, and growing fainter with every word. “Meet you on the other side. I hope it has good sake, or...I’m going to be...disappointed.”
His head dropped the final few inches, resting on Daisuke’s shoulder, and he didn’t move again. Numb, Suki hovered there a moment, as the clouds opened and rain began falling over the two bodies slumped together in the flickering light of a hitodama.
A pair of glowing spheres rose from each of the bodies on the ground, pulsing softly as they drifted into the air. As Suki watched, the two globes of light climbed steadily into the sky, circling each other in a graceful, almost excited dance, and floated away toward the clouds.
25
The Summoning Site
TATSUMI
Nearly there.
I was expecting trouble. The last stretch up the mountain was narrow and rocky, with soaring cliffs and jagged crags to one side. Perfect for an ambush, or to trap us between a wall of stone and a sheer drop down the cliff face. But there were no demons waiting for us, no monsters, yokai, bakemono or blood mages lurking in the cracks between rocks. No ambushes or traps of any kind. Either Genno was overconfident in Rasetsu’s ability to guard the path—not to mention the oni’s loyalty—or there was something we didn’t know about.
I could see the top of the peak overhead, a flat surface of stone rising over the sea, with nothing but air between the cliff and the drop to the waves below. Directly above it, clouds swirled frantically in the sky, a whirlpool of darkness and flickering strands of lightning. Rain and wind beat the sides of the cliff, ripping at our hair and clothes and slashing at us with icy talons.
As lightning flashed, it lit up the valley far below the mountain, showing a split-second glimpse of the desperate, futile battle between men and demons still raging in the dark. Neither the fall of night nor the vicious storm halted the march of demons on their way to slaughter every living thing, and the armies of Shadow and Moon continued to fight a losing battle in the rain and darkness.
Yumeko stumbled on the rough path, falling to her knees with a small exclamation of pain. I turned and took her hand, pulling her upright, and she raised her head, fox ears twitching in the wind.
“Do you hear that?” she gasped.
I did. A voice echoing over the storm, rising over the wind and rain, coming from the top of the peak. The individual words were lost in the howl of the gale, but there was no question as to who it was, or what was happening.
“Genno,” I growled. “Summoning the Dragon. He’s not finished with the prayer, though. We can still make it.”
Yumeko nodded, a steely glint in her yellow eyes. Together we began sprinting up the path, as the booming, droning chant from the Master of Demons grew louder, and the clouds swirled even faster.
The path curved around a cliff, and suddenly ended at a steep flight of stone stairs going up the mountain. A weathered gray torii gate stood over the first step, marking the entrance to the territory of the gods, and I heard Yumeko gasp when she saw it. This was it, the final staircase. At the top was the Summoning site, and the Master of Demons.
But as we started for the steps, there was a blinding flash, and a wall of blue flames erupted at the base of the staircase. Snarling, I flinched back from the light and sudden heat, then squinted up at the fire.
He stood atop the torii gate, silver hair and robes billowing in the wind, golden eyes shining in the dark; the ninetail from the demoness cave. His multiple tails swayed and fluttered behind him, the ends glowing with foxfire, casting his shadow over the ground before us.
“Not yet.” His voice was a warning, almost a command, and I felt rage surge up within. Drawing Kamigoroshi, I leaped into the air toward the kitsune standing in our way, bringing the sword down in a vicious arc.
The ninetail didn’t move, though a small smile played over his face as I fell toward him, Kamigoroshi blazing purple as it sliced toward his head. There was a blur of motion, and a ringing screech that sent vibrations up my arm, as Kamigoroshi met the blade of another sword that appeared in front of the ninetail. I blinked in shock as we faced each other on the torii gate, staring at him over our crossed blades. At the ninetail’s fingers curled around the hilt of his own weapon, blocking my sword, and me, one-handed.
The kitsune smiled at me over the crossed blades. “Save your strength, Hakaimono,” he said calmly. “Your greatest battle is yet to come.”
His tails moved, a blur of silver and blue-white foxfire, and two of them struck me in the chest. It felt like Yaburama had punched me; I was hurled away, hitting the path and tumbling a good hundred feet down the mountain until I came to a bruised stop at the base of a cliff. Growling, I pushed myself to my feet, Kamigoroshi blazing in my hand, to see Yumeko at the base of the stairs, facing the ninetail overhead.
“What is it you want, Seigetsu-sama?” she asked, bathed in the ghostly light of the foxfire. “You’ve aided us before—why are you trying to stop us now? You said you had no interest in the Dragon’s Wish.”
“I don’t.”
“Then...why are you helping the Master of Demons?”
Gripping my sword, I started up the path again as the ninetailed fox tilted his head, regarding Yumeko with impassive golden eyes. “I am not aiding the Master of Demons, little fox,” he told her. “Genno is simply another piece in this game. An important piece, yes, but his part in the story is about to end. Yokai, demons and kami cannot make a wish to the Harbinger of Change. Only a mortal soul can call the Great Kami from the sea, and Genno, though his soul has been tainted by hate and revenge, fits that description. I simply needed him to summon the Dragon.”
Yumeko’s ears flattened. “You want Genno to summon the Dragon?” she whispered, sounding horrified and stunned. “Why?”
The other kitsune offered that faint, knowing smile and shook his head. “Not yet,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “It is not time to reveal that part of the game. Soon, though. Soon, you will understand everything.”
A howl echoed over the storm, and the air itself seemed to tremble. A massive streak of lightning split the sky overhead, turning everything a blinding white, and in the flash, the ninetail’s expression was almost mad with glee. “Hurry, little fox,” he told Yumeko, as a chill unlike any I had felt before slid through my veins. “He comes.”
I leaped at the ninetailed fox with a snarl, springing over the wall of kitsune-bi and slashing down with Kamigoroshi. This time, the silver-haired figure didn’t move, but his golden eyes rose to me, his smile never wavering. The snapping purple blade cut into his collarbone and passed out the other side, splitting him in two. As I dropped from the torii gate, there was an explosion of white smoke, and the halves of the kitsune’s body disappeared. A red maple leaf, sliced in two, fluttered to the ground and danced away over the wind.