The Fox's Mask

by Anna Frost

  Despite his age, the old man’s gaze was clear and sharp, and it lingered on Akakiba’s sword a long moment. “We have a healer. Always had one. We wouldn’t bother the White Lady for any small thing. Follow me.”

  Going downhill was easier but no less treacherous. It was easy to slip with Yuki’s weight destabilizing him. He stepped carefully and was amused that his laborious pace forced their guide to stop and wait. Aged the man might be, but weak he wasn’t.

  The forest ended suddenly, its edge trimmed away from the rice fields, where dozens of men and women currently worked. There was a dry, elevated path that ran between the rice fields and all the way to the village. The old man didn’t lead them on that path, instead they moved along the forest edge until they reached an isolated house. Since the forest was the provider of the herbs needed to make medicine, this location was sensible, but it gave Akakiba pause. People rarely lived apart from others without a good reason.

  “I can walk,” Yuki said. “This is embarrassing. They’re watching us.”

  “I’d rather injure your pride than your body. It’ll heal easier.”

  A woman came out of the hut and eyed them in a less than welcoming manner. She was younger than he’d expected, and her bangs hung low yet failed to conceal the ugly burn covering half her face. Healer by choice? Perhaps not.

  She looked him up and down. Neither the scars nor the sword seemed to faze her in the least. “Who have you brought me, Father?”

  “Traveling strangers I found at the White Lady’s pool. The younger one is hurt.”

  “Bring him in.” She disappeared inside, leaving the door open.

  Removing his sandals outside, Akakiba stepped up onto the wooden floor. The hut had but one room with a lowered fire pit in the center. A pot of water bubbled over it. The woman pointed to a straw bed that sat in the corner. It was sensible: straw could easily be thrown out when it got stained with blood. Akakiba stepped over, the floor creaking faintly under his weight, and laid Yuki down on the fragrant bed.

  The woman removed the makeshift bandages and peeked at the wound. “You angered a wild animal, didn’t you?”

  Yuki swiftly agreed with her assertion. “Can you help?”

  “I don’t see why I should, but yes, I can. It’s clean—but then you did bathe in the White Lady’s pool.” She flicked her fingers at Akakiba. “Get out and let me work.”

  After recovering his kosode from Yuki, who no longer shivered, Akakiba did as he was told.

  The old man stood outside smoking a long, thin pipe, the white smoke dissipating quickly in the wind. “That’s my daughter,” he said cheerfully. “Special, isn’t she?”

  “She’s…strong-minded.”

  The old man laughed. “You don’t know the half of it. That wound of hers? Self-inflicted. All because her mother tried to force her to marry a distasteful man. She threatened to burn off the rest of her face if anyone mentioned marriage again. She should have been born a man with that temper.”

  “I see.” A girl who refused marriage would naturally be shunned. Becoming the village healer must have been her only choice if she wished to survive. “Your fellow villagers don’t seem happy to see us here.”

  Three men approached. One was dressed in finer clothes than the other villagers—the man in charge, presumably. He said, “Why do you bring strangers to our village, old man?”

  Akakiba answered first. “Is there no hospitality to be found here?”

  “Forgive us, stranger, but we’ve had no luck with men with swords.”

  “Bandits?” Few other than samurai were allowed to bear swords, but bandits were not known for respecting the law.

  The answer was short and tense. “All sorts.”

  “Ah. You mean wandering samurai. The kind that threaten you if you don’t grant them shelter, food, and women, I expect.” There hadn’t been a war in a while, and many master-less samurai, even demon hunters like him, were short on work. Men without work were men without money, and men without money could be unpleasant.

  The villager’s expression went from unfriendly to alarmed. He bowed a polite fraction. “I would never imply a samurai acted dishonorably.”

  The old man cackled. “It takes an empty head like yours to insult a man like him, Tatsu. Introduce yourself, young man.”

  Sharp eyes indeed. He’d thought the fox mark on his scabbard was sufficiently obscured by the red cloth tied over it. No help for it now.

  He gave the shallowest of bows. “I am Akakiba of the Fox clan. Pleased to meet you.”

  Tatsu moved his mouth like a carp. He bowed so low he might have broken in two. “I never expected someone important to come here! Excuse my wretched manners. Please accept our hospitality in our modest homes. We can provide a fabulous meal for you, sir samurai, and anything else you might require.”

  “Anything else” usually meant women. The last thing he wanted was to be annoyed by interested females.

  “We thank you,” Akakiba said, “but my friend shouldn’t move, and I mean to stay with him. Do not trouble yourself on our account. We’ll be fine here.”

  The old man was still laughing his wheezy laugh when the three villagers retreated in shame. “That’s him, you know. The man my daughter hated so much that she burned herself rather than marry him. I don’t think his pride ever recovered! Hehehe.”

  “Proud men are foolish men,” a female voice said. It was the healer. “Your friend will be fine provided he stays put for a few days and lets it close up properly. We’ll be crowded, four in there. Why didn’t you take his offer? You’d be off my hands.”

  “Be nice to our guest, Fubuki,” the old man said. “He’s an important man.”

  “Yes, Father. Please come in, it’s time for tea.”

  Tea was served in delicate cups that must have been family heirlooms, for the pair hardly looked in a position to spend money on such things. They all sat cross-legged on the tatami floor, aside from Yuki, who was forbidden to move from his straw bed. There was a new pot on the fire now, and if the smell was any indication, it was rice cooking.

  Akakiba swallowed a sigh. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had a meal with meat. Yuki liked to mock him, saying he had extravagant tastes, but he didn’t think it was unreasonable to desire variety now and then. They didn’t have the means to pay for much more than rice these days. As a demon hunter who regularly saw the horror that demons inflicted upon the innocent, he could hardly complain about their dwindling numbers. He simply didn’t fancy the prospect of having to go to his family if he couldn’t feed himself.

  There were other ways to acquire meat. Perhaps he would go hunting tomorrow. Yuki would certainly not appreciate being left alone here: he was clearly uneasy, keeping his eyes focused on his cup of tea. Fubuki must have made him nervous, being unlike any woman he was likely to have encountered before. There was nothing gentle or shy about her. She looked like she’d hit you if you angered her. She seemed quite competent, however; he had no idea what she had done while he was outside, but color had returned to Yuki’s face.

  The silence was broken by the old man. “Are you feeling better, young man?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Yuki said.

  “We’ll see about finding you a kosode tomorrow. We must have an extra one.”

  “Thank you. We’ll pay for it, of course.”

  “No need, no need,” the old man said. “Are you a samurai of the Fox clan too?”

  Yuki looked faintly embarrassed by the question. “Oh, no. My parents were Shinto priests. I was drafted in this trade after their death.”

  This caused eyebrows to rise and gazes to turn to Akakiba for an explanation. Samurai was generally a hereditary class, not something one became on a whim. There were always exceptions but the son of priests?

  “He has talent,” Akakiba said simply.

  The old man’s eyes lit up. “Ah, I understand. You train him as a demon hunter. It’s a trade close to his parents’.”

  Akakiba was star
tled. The idea had not occurred to him. He had thought Yuki accepted the sword for revenge. But it was true that Shinto priests fought evil just like demon hunters did, merely using different weapons.

  The healer put her cup down, her face alive with sudden excitement. “I knew the wound was odd! I must study it.”

  “Please keep up the good work.” The old man took a sip of tea. “We’ve been lucky. We’ve not seen a demon here for longer than the White Lady.”

  “It’s been like that everywhere,” Akakiba said. “Fewer spirits. Black ones, white ones, they’re all fading.”

  “It’s a cycle. They come and go. Don’t look so glum. There will always be spirits for you to fight. It’s not like they can disappear.”

  Akakiba wished he could believe that.

  The rice was served plain and unseasoned while, outside, the sun sank beyond the horizon.

  Yuki’s yawns were a sure sign he would have no trouble finding sleep. Wounds drained a person’s energy and made extra sleep a necessity.

  Since Yuki would be safe and asleep inside, he could go indulge himself…

  He put his empty bowl down, placing the chopsticks on top of it, and stood. “Please excuse me, but I’ll sleep outside. I don’t feel at ease inside buildings.”

  “Don’t be an idiot,” Fubuki said. “You’ll catch a fever, and I’ll be forced to take care of you.”

  “I’ll cause you no trouble.”

  “If you catch a fever, I won’t help you.” She turned away, muttering, “Men are morons.”

  Despite Fubuki’s harsh words, Akakiba perceived a certain relaxation in her stance, likely stemming from the realization that he didn’t expect her to provide nighttime entertainment. The villagers would assume it happened, but it wouldn’t hurt her standing. It might even heighten her popularity with the women, who were often embarrassingly curious about such matters.

  He stepped into the cool night air and stretched. A nice run alone was just what he needed to settle his nerves.

  The light of fires could be seen flickering here and there through doors and windows left partly open, but no villager would venture outside after nightfall without a good reason. Demons were growing fewer, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any lurking in the shadows.

  The darkness under the trees enfolded him, concealing him from prying eyes. Tension left his muscles as he shrugged off his obligations and public face. Human rules and manners didn’t matter when there were no humans present. He craved a lengthy chase, a hard kill. He craved meat that bled in his mouth and filled his belly to bursting.

  He craved sharing too. The idea of bringing back the carcass to feed his human was tempting, but that was never an option. Human religion and tradition both held that killing and eating animals was wrong, a prime example of human foolishness.

  He advanced, feet light and silent. He listened and pricked his ears, ready for anything. He inhaled deeply, seeking a scent trail of interest. Ah, there. A deer? Yes, yes.

  It would do.

  He raced into the new night, wild and free.

  Chapter Two

  Akakiba

  “AND THEN,” YUKI SAID, “I hear growling. I follow the sound, and I find a pair of dogs barking up a tree. I look up, and what do I see? My teacher sitting on a branch and glaring murder at the animals!”

  There was general laughter in the crowded, outdoor area. Standing at the edge of the gathering, Akakiba sighed as Yuki continued to recount his embarrassing encounter. It wasn’t his fault dogs despised him!

  “I think my teacher has been a demon hunter for so long that he smells like a demon himself. That must be why it keeps happening.”

  A villager pounded Akakiba on the back. “Ah, sir samurai, what an exciting life you lead! Slaying demons, fleeing dogs…”

  There was more laughter. Half the villagers present were drunk, and the other half were on their way there. It was the Dragon Goddess’s Day, and sake was present in abundance. The fare was simple, largely composed of rice prepared with various flavors and stuffing.

  Several days under Fubuki’s draconic care had done wonders for Yuki’s health. Enforced bed rest and various medicines helped his body close the wound and replace lost blood. Today marked his first day away from Fubuki. This explained why the young human had been so eager to drink and make merry. His cheeks were pink with drink as he told story after story to a captivated audience.

  The crowd grew so drunk and noisy that Akakiba left in search of peace and quiet—two things he’d had little of lately. As soon as the news had spread that demon hunters were enjoying Fubuki’s hospitality, villagers had started buzzing about the hut like flies on rotten meat. His patience with humans was wearing thin.

  At the edge of the village, right where the rice fields began, an old woman sat telling the Dragon Goddess’s legend to a gaggle of children. The legend was usually told as a prelude to the primary tradition of the Dragon Goddess’s Day: the hunt for freshly laid dragon eggs. Caught by nostalgia, Akakiba stopped to listen.

  “It is said that, long ago, there was a terrible drought caused by demons. In that time, demons harassed humanity mercilessly, and there were no demon hunters to oppose them. In a village much like this one, everybody gathered to pray to the Great Sky Dragon, asking her to defeat the terrible demons and bring rain to save them from starvation.

  “In answer to their prayers, an egg fell from the sky. It hit the ground and shattered to reveal the Dragon Goddess, a creature half-human and half-dragon. She had the most delicate face, smooth dark hair flowing down her back, and magnificent black wings spreading from her shoulder blades. The villagers groveled at her feet, begging for her protection. Hearing their pleas, the Dragon Goddess gave everyone an egg and told them that a small dragon would be born from each. These dragons, if properly cared for, would reward their owners with loyalty and protection against demons.

  “The Dragon Goddess then took flight and returned to the sky, which had turned as black as her hair. A great storm came, saving everybody from the drought, and the eggs began to hatch. Thus began a new era, for people were no longer helpless against demons but had dragons to help and protect them.

  “And that is why, every spring, we celebrate the Dragon Goddess’s Day and search the forest for dragon eggs.” The old woman cleared her throat, her voice wheezy. “We haven’t found eggs in a long time, but if you look long and hard, perhaps the goddess will reward you. Are you ready to start the search?”

  There was a chorus of yeses from the crowd of youngsters.

  The old woman clapped her hands together. “Then pair up and go!”

  There was general mayhem as the children found partners and broke away in twos or threes. Akakiba circled the melee and approached the storyteller.

  “Excuse me, Grandmother, did I hear you say you haven’t found eggs in a long time?”

  “Many years, sir samurai,” the old woman answered, squinting at him. “We had to sell those we found back then, because there were several bad harvests. We kept but one egg, and the poor dragon died just last year along with its owner. It’s a shame. When I was a child, we found eggs every other year. Now they’re quite rare. We send the children to do it, because they have more free time. The adults would rather enjoy a day of leisure and drinking than look for something they’re unlikely to find.”

  “Grandmother,” Akakiba said, “do you know about the lake to the east? On our way here we saw a female dragon on its shore. She may have been returning from laying eggs in the forest. Your children may have better luck searching in that direction.”

  The old woman’s eyes lit with sudden interest. “Is that so, sir samurai? I thank you for the information.” She turned her gaze to the handful of children who had stayed behind, probably to eavesdrop on the adults. “You heard the man! Off you go! Look to the east!”

  Shrieking in excitement, the children dashed off.

  Akakiba looked at the clear sky; it was as good a day as any to hunt lunch. A rabbit woul
d be perfect, but he’d settle for a bird if he must.

  Akakiba returned to the village at sunset to let Yuki know he hadn’t vanished into thin air. His belly was full and his mood cheerful.

  Yuki was standing to the side while the villagers conversed in low, tense voices.

  “What’s going on?” Akakiba asked.

  “One of the children hasn’t come back,” Yuki said. “They know they’re to come back before sunset. The adults worry he might have twisted an ankle or gotten lost.”

  Lanterns were distributed, and men spread out to search for the missing child in the forest to the east. Akakiba went along, worried that the boy might have decided to go all the way to the lake because of his comment about the dragon. What if the child had gone and then drowned?

  They had barely started searching when a woman shouted, her tone overjoyed, “We’ve found him! He has eggs!”

  The news spread like fire. By the time the boy was brought back to the village—nearly naked because he had used his clothes to carry the four eggs—worry had been replaced by elation. The merry-making was beginning anew, sake bottles circulating freely. The eggs were the size of a man’s fist and varied in hues from pale blue to almost purple. They were carefully set down in the middle of the village and inspected for viability.

  “They look alive,” the old storyteller reported. Despite her great age, she too looked excited. There was a great cheer. Four live dragon eggs was an amazing bounty.

  Akakiba conducted his own analysis afterward, touching each of the eggs in turn. He could indeed feel their life force. One of them resonated strongly, making his palm itch. A female, no doubt about it.

  While most of the village rejoiced, several men argued on the side, trying to decide what to do with the eggs. Tatsu, the man Fubuki despised, was at the center of the argument.

  Yuki knelt at Akakiba’s side, gingerly reaching out to the eggs. “They’re pretty. I hear they make a great variety of objects with the shell shards.”