The Fox's Mask

by Anna Frost

  “That’s not exactly what I meant,” Yuki said weakly.

  Sakura hid her mouth behind her sleeve. “Don’t look so distressed, Yuki. I was only teasing.”

  He wished Sakura would go back to acting shy and proper. Now that they were acquainted, she treated him like…like a toy.

  Akakiba watched them, speculation in his gaze. “Yuki,” he said, “Let’s have a cup of sake in private. I have news to share.”

  Leaving Taro in Sakura’s care, they went and wandered through the streets until they found a drinking house.

  “Warm sake is perfect for windy evenings,” Akakiba said as they settled down in a corner and signaled the serving girl to bring them a bottle and cups.

  Three middle-aged men with the calloused hands and tanned faces of outdoor workers were gathered in the opposite corner, but they were too absorbed in their drunken conversation to pay the newcomers any mind.

  “You’ve never encouraged me to drink sake before,” Yuki said after they had been drinking in companionable silence for a while. “You said it’s a dangerous habit for a demon hunter.”

  “It is. However, it’s acceptable on special occasions.”

  “Is this a special occasion?” If it were, it must be special in an unfortunate way. His teacher seemed grim; what bad news had he brought back?

  Akakiba wasn’t looking at him as he spoke. “You’re of age now. I taught you the art of the sword, but you might have other interests you wish to pursue. Sakura would be a perfect bride. I could arrange it if it suits you.”

  “You’re trying to match me?” He could hardly believe it. What had he done to deserve this? “What’s wrong? You’ve never spoken to me like this before.”

  “It didn’t occur to me that I should. I’m not always in touch with others’ needs or feelings, you could say.”

  “I noticed.” Yuki refilled his tiny cup, hoping to find in the liquid the strength to settle his nerves. “I know I made a mess of my first fight, but Hiroshi says I’m healing well. I can start training again. I can improve my skills.”

  “This isn’t about your wound. I’m not trying to say you’re not capable of doing the work. It has simply occurred to me that there’s more to life than fighting.”

  He stared, his disbelief so plain that Akakiba must have felt compelled to amend his words with, “Would you rather I say that there are other people who believe there’s more to life than wandering through the countryside looking for a fight? Perhaps you’d be happier doing something else.”

  He sought extra courage in another cup. His teacher couldn’t possibly be trying to get rid of him, could he? “May I ask a personal question?”

  “I keep telling you it’s fine to speak your mind to me. Please do so, for once.”

  “Why do you fight?” He hesitated, his eyes darting back and forth between Akakiba’s face and his sake. “Did something happen? You hardly ever speak of your clan or your family…”

  Booming laughter wasn’t the answer he’d expected.

  “You mean like a tragic love story or a loved one torn to pieces before my eyes? No, nothing of the sort,” Akakiba said, making a dismissive gesture with his free hand. His fit of laughter had cleared the grim look from his face, leaving him with a faint smile and relaxed body. “I like fighting; that’s the whole of it. I don’t understand why people would want to labor in fields or shops for their entire lives and die a quiet, pointless death. But I understand the struggle of life, the imperative to kill in order to survive.”

  “But don’t you fight to protect people so they can, as you say, die a quiet death?”

  “I don’t understand it, but I respect it. Everyone makes their own decisions in life. Some have fewer options than others, but there are always choices. I protect their right to choose a quiet life and a quiet death. I—” Akakiba interrupted himself and sighed into his empty cup. “Sake makes me talk like an old woman. That’s why I don’t like drinking.”

  The flask was nearly empty by then. They waved off the serving girl who offered to refill it. It was for the best considering how queasy his stomach felt.

  “You said I should be honest,” Yuki said at length. “Then let me say that I like what you’re teaching me, and I see no reason to end our partnership. Don’t ask me if I’m being consumed with revenge or any such nonsense, because I’m not.”

  “Why would I ask?”

  “I don’t know, but Fubuki did. She told me it was unhealthy to pursue revenge.”

  “That woman has strong opinions, doesn’t she?” The cheer drained from Akakiba’s face as he added, “If you’re coming with me, I better tell you what my parents want.”

  The flask of sake was eventually empty, a single drop left at the bottom. They returned to the wind-swept streets, hunching against the cold. A light rain began to fall, pattering on roof tiles and soaking through their clothes within moments. Neither complained: they got routinely wet on the road and were used to it. For Yuki, the possibility of a flesh-eating demon roaming the countryside was far more chilling than the rain.

  They didn’t even have time to say, “We’re back,” before Sakura began scolding them.

  “Ahh, you two! You’re dripping wet! Don’t you dare come up and drip on my tatami!”

  They obediently remained in the tiny entrance, an area that was always lower than the rest of the house, while Sakura ducked into the storage closet and returned with worn yukata in hand. “Here, change into these. They’re old, but they’re dry.”

  Hiroshi was sitting by the cooking pit, sipping tea. His amused expression seemed to say, “See, she would make a good wife.” Yuki hoped that expression wasn’t aimed at him. He didn’t want a wife!

  That night, the patter of rain lulled him into a deep sleep so restful that he woke in better shape than he’d been for days. His wound was but an itch to ignore, and he felt like he could defeat a flesh-eating demon all on his own.

  They said their goodbyes as the sun was still laboriously dragging itself over the horizon like an old man with pain in his joints.

  “Please don’t wait three years to visit again, you two,” Sakura said, dark eyes still cloudy with sleep.

  “We’ll try,” Yuki promised.

  Akakiba eyed him. “We will? That’s good to know.” He sounded amused, so it wasn’t a rebuke. “Farewell, Sakura.”

  “Have a nice trip!”

  In a startling departure from their normal travel habits, Akakiba decided to rent horses from a stable at the edge of the city.

  Yuki eyed his mount dubiously. The only thing he knew about horses was what they looked like. “Are you sure about this? I’ve never had riding lessons.”

  The horse owner’s grin was almost insulting. “Don’t worry, kid. That one’s perfect for new riders. She won’t kick, won’t bite, won’t fight. Show her the road, and she’ll follow it. You’ll have to check her when she gets hungry though, or she’ll slow you down by taking unscheduled snacking breaks.”

  “Here,” Akakiba said, coming over from examining his mount’s hooves. “I’ll show you how to sit in the saddle. Don’t worry about the horse. She’ll follow mine.”

  They set out, Akakiba and Taro on one horse and him on another.

  Rain clouds accompanied them on their journey, turning the ground muddy and putting the straw raincoats to the test. They rode hunched over their mounts, constantly adjusting their hats to better fend off the rain.

  Following the road instead of keeping to little-known forest trails had the disadvantage of making them visible to ill-intentioned watchers. Even though they had left the greater part of the money in the city, they had enough with them to tempt any manner of bandit. Even disguised as a supply pack, with bits of clothing poking out of it, the box strapped to Akakiba’s mount seemed too obviously important to fool bandits.

  Yuki couldn’t convince his muscles to relax. Part of it was fear of attack and part of it was because he was on a horse, a large animal he didn’t know how to handle. So far so
good: she followed the road without his input and showed no inclination to throw him off and trample him. That didn’t stop him from clinging to the animal in a way similar to how Taro was clinging to Akakiba’s back.

  They traveled from dawn to dusk, subsisting on rice cakes prepared by Sakura, before stopping at a roadside inn for a warm meal and a dry bed.

  Drawing near Akakiba, Yuki had to ask, “Can we afford it?”

  “Would you consider it sensible to sleep outside with this?” He was indicating the fake supply pack. “The wet isn’t good for children and wounded men either.”

  The inn, being close to a major city, provided food and amenities of higher quality than one would usually expect from a simple roadside inn. They were offered a meal with several courses, a spacious room, and access to the bath.

  It was a luxury to shed their damp clothes, don the provided yukata, and go to warm their saddle-sore bodies in the steaming waters. Yuki couldn’t believe how much his backside hurt after a day’s riding. He felt a perverse satisfaction when he saw that Akakiba also walked gingerly.

  The men’s side of the bath was empty but for an older man with scars old and new crisscrossing his body. They exchanged nods, samurai to samurai. Yuki chastised himself for feeling proud to have a recent wound to display, as if it proved his worth.

  The moment Taro glimpsed Akakiba’s back and the deep scars marring it, he gasped. “Demon scars!” he exclaimed and wouldn’t be still until he heard the story.

  Taro was given a sanitized version of the event, different from the gory warning tale Yuki had been told years earlier.

  “The first time I fought a demon,” Akakiba began, “I was overconfident and foolish. I didn’t realize I was being toyed with until it was too late, and the demon’s large claws were digging into my flesh. Desperation made me strong, and I succeeded in killing the creature despite my terrible wounds. I spent the rest of the night dragging myself to a nearby healing spring, where a good spirit took pity on me. She worked hard to save my shredded muscles but didn’t have the strength to restore my back entirely. The scars remind me every day that fools die young.”

  Taro opened his mouth, and Akakiba scowled. “The road will curve by the river tomorrow. Ask another question and I’ll throw you into it. I hear the dragon there loves children, because they’re soft and crunchy.”

  “I’m not soft,” Taro protested. He nonetheless fell quiet.

  The second day saw them riding under a timid sun that hid its face behind the clouds like a shy maiden hides behind her fan.

  Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Yuki had to ask, “Why are we in a hurry? Is the flesh-eating demon that terrible?”

  “It’s not that. My sister is undergoing her coming-of-age ceremony in a few days. I hope to attend.”

  “Your sister’s ceremony?” he repeated. “I see…even the girls are sent to hunt demons.”

  Akakiba responded stiffly. “Our women are trained more extensively than in normal clans, it’s true, but we have no choice. The men are often away, and the women must be able to protect themselves and the children.”

  “I hadn’t given thought to how a clan like yours would operate. That sounds logical. Demons can’t be predicted.”

  “Humans neither,” Akakiba said dryly. “You’re invited to the ceremony, of course. I’ve no doubt Jien has told my parents about your existence. They’ll want to meet you.”

  They rode hard the rest of the way, stopping for nothing else than to relieve themselves in the woods, in an attempt to reach the village in time for the evening meal.

  Their thundering arrival on horseback drew instant attention. Villagers abandoned tools and tasks to cluster around them.

  “You’re back! How did it go?”

  “Why the horses? Is someone chasing you?”

  “Where’s the money? You brought money, right?”

  “Did you buy those horses with our money?”

  Yuki couldn’t tell who had made that last comment, but he was willing to bet it was one of Tatsu’s friends.

  They presented the money to general gasps. They’d had the gold pieces changed for silver ones before leaving so that the money would be easier to spend. It could be dangerous for an average person to be seen in possession of gold, but silver didn’t arouse the same interest. As a result, the box seemed to contain an outrageous amount of coins. For people unaccustomed to riches, it was outrageous. Yuki was still trying to comprehend why people were willing to spend this kind of coin on dragons.

  Taro became a secondary center of attention as it got around that he was now the proud owner of a pendant with a fingernail-size piece of purple eggshell set in a pieced seashell. “The medicine seller gave it to me,” he explained to everybody who would listen and even to those who wouldn’t. “He said it’s a souvenir because it’s a piece of one of the eggs I found. Look how pretty it is!”

  It was indeed a pretty trinket, both modest enough not to tempt a thief to violence and fancy enough to be the envy of the village. Hiroshi had chosen well.

  Having no choice but to allow the horses to eat and rest before another day of hard work, they tethered the animals where there was grass to graze and went to beg lodging at the healer’s hut. When they entered, they found Fubuki methodically grinding plants in a bowl. Yuki was surprised to see a baby dragon, its hide the color of night, curled on her lap. How had she gotten it away from Tatsu?

  “Funny thing, isn’t it?” Fubuki said, not quite looking at Akakiba. “You ask me for an old piece of clothing to make a nest for the egg, and four days later the dragon hatches and refuses to pay attention to its supposed master. I went to collect the eggshell pieces, and it wouldn’t get off me. Tatsu was so angry he struck me.”

  “Shall I remind him that harming the caretaker of a dragon is a crime?” Akakiba said mildly.

  “You meddler,” Fubuki said. “What am I to do with a dragon? I would have been happy with the eggshell alone. Do you know how much powder a whole egg can make? I nearly had to beat the women back; they couldn’t stop whining about jewelry. I won, because they know this powder might save their children’s lives one day.”

  The dragon slithered to the ground as Fubuki stood up and went to pour the newly crushed substance into a waiting container. She rubbed her hands together to clean them of clinging bits of greenery and walked out, ordering, “Watch the dragon. I need to find my father.”

  The dragon made its way to Yuki, smelling him curiously with its long tongue. It looked harmless, but he knew better. Very much like snakes, dragons could produce poison; however, they didn’t spread it by biting, but by spitting. That was how they chased demons, spitting special poison that could affect a spirit’s very substance.

  He cautiously presented his hand to the curious creature. “Hello, little one. How do you like it here?”

  “They don’t develop an understanding of speech until maturity,” Akakiba said. “I suppose body language is an answer in itself. This one is contented. He’d hiss and spit if he weren’t. He’s also feeling confident enough to investigate a stranger in the absence of his bonded human.”

  “I see.” He reached out, daring to caress the soft scales with the tip of his fingers. “We had a dog when I was a child. My father always said that if you paid attention, the dog would tell you how it was feeling. I expect it’s the same for most animals.”

  “Don’t mention dogs.”

  Fubuki and her father returned enriched. He beamed, displaying two lengths of cord on which were strung silver coins. Most coins had holes in the middle for this purpose. “This is our share,” he said. “We won’t starve next time there’s a drought. Perhaps I could buy something nice for my wife. She might like an offering of jewelry for her grave.”

  “Mother never liked jewelry,” Fubuki said impatiently. “She said it was nonsense to waste money on such things.”

  “She said that to look brave, because we couldn’t afford anything nice. She would have loved a pretty neckl
ace.”

  Fubuki turned away from her father’s melancholic expression. “It’s time for your tea,” she said, setting to the task of preparing it.

  The dragon returned to Fubuki, climbing her brown kosode with its sharp claws to settle on her shoulder. “Don’t tear my clothes,” she scolded, lifting a hand to pet it. “Are you hungry?” From a jar she took what must have been a freshly killed mouse and offered it to the dragon, who nearly swallowed it whole. “Careful or you’ll choke, you idiot.” When she turned and saw them watching, her features settled into her usual scowl.

  “Ah, Yuki,” she suddenly added. “I almost forgot. There’s a girl named Akiko pining after you. She asked me to convey to you an invitation to visit the healing spring, to leave an offering and see if the White Lady will sing tonight. She’s waiting outside.”

  “I, uh…” He stopped there, unsure what to say. Were girls throwing themselves at him now? Was it the new swords? “I’m afraid I shouldn’t—”

  “You should go,” Akakiba said. “You may be lucky.”

  What did that mean? Shouldn’t his teacher have spoken against his going? Shouldn’t he have said that wandering in the forest at night was unnecessarily reckless, especially with a vulnerable, unarmed person in tow?

  Annoyed, Yuki took his sandals and stepped outside.

  A girl stood three steps away, watching the door. “Hi.”

  “Akiko, right? Fubuki said you wanted to visit the spring.”

  Her answering smile lit up her otherwise plain features and soothed his irritation away. Maybe it would be an interesting outing.

  “Let’s hurry, the sun is setting,” Akiko said, boldly taking his hand. The simple gesture was more than he’d ever had from a girl and was unnerving.

  They went quickly, using the last of the day’s light to make the climb to the pool. Yuki could barely keep up, his backside raw from the day’s ride, but he refused to lag behind.

  They arrived as the sun disappeared for good, leaving the sky to a large, round moon. Kneeling by the White Lady’s pool with offerings in their hands, they waited for the moon to reach its apex.