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The stone steps are still dark with blood where I should have killed that half-kappa. I hear, more than I feel, the joints pop in my curling fists. This is the first sign of a fight I've seen, but I haven't dared slow to search or look behind me.

"Where are you?" I utter, touching my pendant and thinking of the wooden mask tucked away in my clothes.

I keep walking, towards answers or rage I know not.

When the shadows deepen and the sun draws near a distant mountain peak, I make myself stop and prepare for a fight. Each blade draws smoothly, and I take care of my body's needs, including an agonizing moment to eat and drink. I'll be of little use if I don't keep my wits sharpened and body strong after walking down this mountain and speaking with a man-eater instead of killing it.

I want to gnash my teeth instead of chew, what might have happened to Saki frothing and boiling in my head. I cannot trust the man-eater I spoke to, even if I got it to thrice swear it had no part in Saki's mask being left behind. Those words could have been nothing but wind to the man-eater. If I were a wretch like him and had taken Saki, I wouldn't want anyone knowing when instead I could blame old enemies visiting the mountain. That's a terrible thought, but the easiest to steady and stay. The monks actually capturing Saki, despite knowing she isn't Meiko, is a much worse possibility.

Drawing steel and spilling blood would sate the battle love in my heart, but it would also see me killed before I can learn where Saki went. If I am fortunate, she is peacefully speaking with the monks.

Recent memories know that's a fool's hope. Blackness, floating like ink dripped into water, lashing out at the kitsune - such a spell wouldn't have been carried by a messenger if the monks were in the mood to listen and talk.

That spell, I don't think it hurt the kitsune but it certainly weakened Akemi when she was grazed. What if the spell got its grasp fully upon a kitsune? Would they be bound, sealed, made unmoving as stone? I finish the last bite of cold rice, taking my time to chew the sour and faintly bitter pickled plum, and dimly remember the stones in my pouch that the spell feared. Perhaps I could use them, and my dangerously thin knowledge of magic, to weaken the spell enough for Saki to escape or for me to push it elsewhere.

I touch the pouch, recollections distant as dreams - or what weren't dreams recently - of the faerie stones. Yet as I think of them, and their pebble companion I earned from a being of fire when helping a friend, a shudder courses through my veins along with dark thoughts. If the monks have Saki for any purpose like they had my friend's daughter... I relax my fingers before the bamboo leaf wrapper crumples up in them.

I'll decide what to do once I know what's befallen Saki, if anything. For now I need patience and clear eyes, as the kitsune might say. Not thoughts of what monks would do with a spell bound, helpless woman, kitsune or not.

I fold the empty bamboo leaf up and slip it back into the food bundle, hoping that the next I open it, it will be with a lighter heart.

That hope is a thin feeling to grasp hold of, one that could snap from the smallest breeze. Yet I cling to it and start the final leg of the descent with renewed vigor in my limbs. Even so, there's no hint or sign of Saki's passage as I walk.

Many hundreds of steps later, I start to smell, then see through the trees, drifting smoke. Not the choking black blaze of a burning village but the white and gray of cooking and warmth. With the last torii in sight, I count at least three billowing trails stretching to the sky. Once I pass beneath the red arch, stepping through the final threshold away from all the comfort and warmth of the kitsune, I touch the hilt of my sword with my palm. It brings me closer to being the man who has wandered through lands and realms for years upon years instead of the soft guest rattled by old wounds and matters of the heart.

Every step I take brings the false relaxation that comes before a fight, my arms loose and fingers staying near but off of my weapons. I must seem a calm man, not a warrior ready to trick and talk my way through whatever I face.

The village soon comes into sight.

Figures move around two huts across the river, a pair of men and sarugami from the looks of it. No signs of guards or patrols near the direction I come from, though I might not see them. Two more men stand on the far side of the bridge, each leaning on a staff capped with strange bronze loops. Smoke drifts on the other side of the river from four huts, two close enough for their smoke to mingle as one while two more huts look occupied to the north and south.

I hope Saki is watching me and not in one of those huts, before I push away thoughts of hope.

Ignoring everyone for now, I look at the tracks I step through. No signs of struggles aside from when I was here days ago. The kitsune must have dealt with the fallen sarugami bodies before coming up the mountain after me – if they told me, well I am in no shape to remember.

"You," a man shouts, bolting up amidst the charred ruins of what had once been a hut.

Dust and soot cling to his simple robes, face, and arms. Cloth is tied over his head, knotted under his jaw, and it doesn't even jostle as he hops out of the ruins towards me. He must be bald and trying to stay warm.

"You!" he shouts again. "Who are-"

He's close enough I can see the white of widening eyes, fear faltering his step. He whips his gaze away, toward a second man standing up from the rubble and even more covered in soot.

"Oni!" bellows the first man, voice threatening to crack and betraying his youth. "It's the oni!"

My head snaps around, hand going for my sword. How did it follow me? How did I not smell its breath?

The trail behind me is clear, but that means nothing. If the oni got out, then Meiko should have as well. Did the oath I swear break it free, or did those faerie stones do something? I can still remember them, that must mean something after half a day.

I get my sword halfway out when I hear footsteps. The men that were digging through rubble hurry over, and they've got wooden staves in their grimy hands. Three armed men, even if two are much shorter than me, should put up a better fight than me alone. Especially with long weapons, and I almost curse myself for not bringing a spear.

I start to ask where they saw the oni when I notice their eyes aren't focused past me, but upon me.

They're four of my strides away once I realize my mistake. The filthier of the two hunches his shoulders, readying for a lunging thrust, while the cleaner one goes to the side.

"Hold," I call out, taking half a step back and slamming my sword back into its scabbard so I can raise empty hands. "I'm-"

The lazy lunge is quicker than I expected, belying good training as the man's staff goes for my stomach.

Slapping it down stings my palm, my fingers instantly curling around the weapon. I can't manage to get another word out when the cleaner of the pair makes his strike at my knees. Seeing it coming, I manage to raise a leg and take it on the shin, mouth twisting in pain and rage.

"I am not," I roar, spotting a group of armed men gathering across the river, "your foe!"

The staff I grabbed twists out of my grip, whipping up toward my chin as the second swipes into the back of my calves just shy of my knees. I lean back, instead of forward where they want me, and my short beard is scraped by an upward swing. The downward strike hits my shoulder, my boots already stomping away from the man trying to bash my knees for a third time. It doesn't matter how tall I am or how much weaker they might be, if I fall, they'll have a deadly advantage.

Battle thumps in my chest, demanding I pull a blade.

For what? Killing a chance at peace, or worse doing nothing but snapping it against a staff?

I should have brought that spear.

I retreat and they stay on me for each step, my final call for peace making it out in between my arms getting battered. "Hold, hold! I'm no monster nor oni!"

The swift whistle of wood on the attack answers me.

I keep backstepping and see in their eyes that words won't work.

Steel whispers from a sheath, an underhanded throw spinning out the dagger Saki gifted me.

The blade bounces against a hastily snapped back staff, but the ring pommel hits the less filthy man in the jaw with a ringing clink. He fumbles back, then falls, freeing both my hands for the other one. Catching a wooden weapon is easy, the bones in my palm barely rattling, and with both hands I keep it still against any tricks. The youthful man, a monk no doubt, freezes in a moment of disbelief as he can't yank his staff away.

Fury billows out between my teeth as I tear the weapon out of his grip and throw the staff in the direction of his fallen companion. The sound of wood thumping someone back to the ground clacks out while I rush forward, the standing young monk flinching back a step.

Too slow.

I stomp on his foot and grab the hem of his clothes. The rough cloth bunches in my fist, his palms helplessly hitting my arm as he can't reach anything else. I twist the robes, getting a solid grip as I heave him off the ground and turn. With the strength of my hips, I throw him up and over like a flailing sack of grain.

He lands hard two strides away, tumbling instead of bouncing. He rolls to a stop flat on his back and gasps from having the wind knocked out of him. He's young and the ground isn't frozen, so it shouldn't kill him.

Knowing that one can't get up for a few moments, I turn to the other, the man I struck in the jaw with the pommel of my thrown dagger. Bloodied but not cut, he staggers to his feet while the bridge rattles from the weight of men and sarugami running this way. I'm about to be very, terribly outnumbered. This was why I came down intending to talk, not start killing my way through monks that might or might not have Saki.

My sword snaps free. I hold it in a low position, perfect for quickly gutting or skewering an unarmed man like the bloodied monk before me. Fear and words are my best weapons now.

"See to your friend," I shout at him, "but attack me again and -there will be a feast for ravens.-"

The words from my homeland confuse him almost as much as the faded and chipped silver inlay of my sword, the sailing ships above the guard nothing like he'd have seen in this land. If they knew the terror those ships brought, he wouldn't stare. He would pick up his staff and hurry to join the group coming towards us while dragging his stunned companion away.

Instead the filthy monk pulls a small knife out of his clothes, the wooden sheath fumbling out of shaking and blood slicked fingers. The short blade, a tool men might eat with, points at me. Foolish of him to match such a tool against a man killing sword, but brave enough to earn some of my respect.

He has enough wisdom to wait and watch me. If only he'd had enough thoughts in his head to listen when I tried to talk.

The group comes off the bridge, two sarugami and six more monks. They're close enough that I begin to make out faces. No one I recognize right away. They stop near the monk with his knife, everyone brandishing weapons at me. Staves capped in bronze for the monks, some with rings that rattle, while the sarugami carry iron studded clubs.

I stand little chance faced with nine against one, certainly not when I have a sword and they've got staves, but if they were going to attack me, they wouldn't just be standing there.

"Is this," I demand, "how your temple greets a man that was once a guest?"

Gazes twitch and shoulders shift, pointing their leader out to me: a monk with a burn scar on his forehead, partly hidden by the cloth tied on his head. Before he can react, I lower my sword and let the frustration of ruined battle sour my face and voice. "Is this how a messenger and bringer of supplies is greeted?" I ask.

"Messengers don't attack monks," the man with the burn scar says, tone suggesting I should be apologizing.

"I was attacked, called for peace, and attacked again before striking back. Ask yours if you do not believe me," I say, nodding to the bloodied young monk. "And someone, see to your fallen friend over there. I tried to be gentle, but I don't take kindly to someone trying to crack my skull open with one of your sticks."

Eyes flick over, then two monks hurry over to the groaning man in the dirt. He might not be dead, but a bad landing can break a leg or arm.

The scarred leader of the monks looks at the man on the ground, then the one holding a knife.

"What happened?" he demands, and not from me.

"He's the oni, freed by those fox demons," the bleeding monk says, wiping his split lip again and sounding like a tooth is cracked or loose.

"Oni?" laughs a sarugami, the taller of the two by almost a head.

He starts hollering in amusement, shoulders relaxing and club dropping by his side. The shorter sarugami nudges him into tapering silence, and I guess that smaller one to be the leader.

"Oni have blue or red skin," the short sarugami says, glaring over at the monks in disappointment. "Did your temple not tell you?"

"No man is that tall," the bloodied monk insists, "a spell from the fox demons is hiding his true nature. But not all of it," the young monk warns, "he spoke some evil curse at me."

"Maybe he is a kitsune," the short sarugami suggests, "and you have angered what you shouldn't."

"He could be a demon fox," the man with the burn scar says. "Yet he is no oni. I can smell them, even when they're hidden beneath layers of deceit."

Can he smell man-eaters as I can? Not everyone I've met can tell, but getting close to them and living seems to make people recognize the stench.

"I am Egil," I tell them, hoping my name stirs some recollection in a monk, "a traveler from a cold land, but no more than a man. And it was no curse, only a warning in the tongue of my homeland." I look at the bloodied monk and give a slight nod of respect. "Which you wisely heeded."

"Even the Emishi don't look so brutish or close to the animal realm," the scarred monk says, obviously trying to irritate me - and keep quiet the bloodied monk fuming at me.

A pointless provocation from the scarred monk when his tongue is too dull witted to make insults amusing, let alone cutting. I ignore him and glare at the sarugami, that night I fought their kind in this village fresh in my memory and making my scars itch. I motion at the monkeys with my sword, every standing monk suddenly ready for a fight. The sarugami, meanwhile, don't seem to care.

"What about them?" I ask. "Can you smell if they've become man-eaters?"

"Do not put blame upon them," the scarred monk warns.

"If our fallen kin came here," the shorter and grimmer of the two sarugami says, "he's wise to doubt."

The tall one snorts. "You didn't trust us either, monks."

"We're certain you have not fallen into bestial depravity, despite your demon of a master," the scarred monk says, never turning his gaze from me.

"He wants certainty as well," the shorter sarugami says. "Why else mention our kin's fall?"

I grin, heartless and cruel. If I didn't, then my growing impatience might make me snarl. "No matter the land I've traveled or seas I've crossed, man-eaters have the same rotten breath."

"I've never heard of such a thing," the scarred monk says.

"Yet you can smell oni?"

"That's different," he says, as if I'm a fool.

"How?"

"Their corruption is an odor any man on the path of enlightenment cannot ignore."

Arrogant, small minded monks, I nearly mutter.

If he can't smell man-eaters, their impression of me will only worsen by me arguing about it. So I shrug instead of saying something clever and lightly insulting. "So no one remembers the rumors of a foreign giant of a man visiting your temple?"

"Set aside your weapons, and we will take you back to our Elder. He will know if you speak the truth."

"My sword and daggers stay upon me."

The monks' feet barely shift, but they might as well be readying their weapons for how eager they seem to force the matter.

"Your Elder can come here, or I can go with my ancestors' sword by my side," I offer.

"This is not a choice," the scarred monk tells me, stopping any advance from the other monks, "but you will be treated peacefully. Understand that we must find out what you are before offering any trust."

"If you don't believe me to be a man," I swap my sword to another hand and pull out the folded letter meant for the monks, "then be certain I am a messenger."

I might as well be holding a writhing serpent for how suspiciously they stare at the paper. Considering the paper talismans I saw Shizuka throwing at that grudge born spell this morning, I assume the monks rightly fear any paper that could have come from a kitsune. I hold it up, looking at everyone yet no one man in particular. Motion, the slightest hint of a plan, false calm - I keep watch for the signs of foes in the making.

"You can give this to your elder," I offer, "or you can bring him here."

The scarred monk matches the intensity that must be upon my face. "And if we don't?"

I'm glad the sarugami are here, even if I hate the choice that gives me. I haven't smelled the stench of a man-eater yet, even with the wind blowing across the sarugami and towards me. The pair of monkey beasts have also subtly put distance between themselves and the monks. Only part of a step, but it's noticeable from where I stand.

Like a drunk fool with dice and his last scraps of silver, I trust in a hunch.

I pinch the message for the monks between two fingers and slowly withdraw the one for the tengu's servants, taking care to keep them from noticing Saki's mask tucked into my clothes. My movement clenches jaws and tightens grips on those staves, while soothing seeds of true anger in me. They're afraid of me, as they should be.

"Then you may ask the sarugami what their message was about," I tell the monks while offering the monkeys their paper.

The shorter of the two sarugami looks at the scarred monk, makes up his mind, and bows slightly to me. He starts to come toward me when a staff jangling with bronze rings bars his way, held by a broad shouldered monk next to their scarred leader.

"If it's a trick," the scarred monk says, "flee. We will subdue him."

I won't be believed, but I speak up anyway. "I'll only strike him down if he's a man-eater or attacks me as yours did."

The self-righteous glares tell me I was right to doubt.

A broad, leathery hand moves the staff out of the way. The sarugami hangs his club off of his sash and stops within the range of my lunge. "Whose message am I receiving?"

"Who else? The master of the mountain's."

He bows, from the waist, so deeply he might fall over, hands clasped and held out above his decorative hat adorned head. His sleeves are too short to hide much of anything, but I saw the same pose taken before a noble of this land before, so it might not be a trick.

"This humble servant accepts. And offers a thousand apologies for anything my fallen kin did, and a thousand more for our failure to capture them."

"That's a message you must deliver yourself." I thrust out the paper, not wanting to get too close.

He takes it, in both hands as is proper in this land, before shuffling backward still hunched over. The distance he keeps from the wary monks is greater than before. Nothing happens when the paper is unfolded and both sarugami lean in to read it, while the monks keep vigilant. The wind flutters the paper, letting me glimpse the long and flowing strokes Rin's graceful hands made before the sarugami steadies it.

She used the oldest, slyest of magics: truth woven with simple lies. And only I know that.

The two sarugami finish rereading their message. The short one folds it back up and tucks it into his clothes, near his neck, for safekeeping. Then both of them bow to me.

"Please tell the Venerated Heir of Tenko we are glad she has accepted," says the short one, rising up.

I wish I'd asked Rin to read me the messages instead of telling me only what I needed to know, but we were in a rush and on the edge of drastic decisions to find Saki. I'm stuck guessing this sarugami means that he and his brethren will follow her commands, as Taiki mentioned their lives were hers. I'd ask, with an easy excuse of wanting to pass their words on exactly, but I want the monks to remain more ignorant than me for now.

So I nod, then offer out the letter for the monks.

"Take your message, bring someone that will, or I leave it on the ground with these supplies on my back."

"What did your message say, Yudai?" the scarred monk asks.

"I'll tell you if you tell me what yours says," replies the short sarugami.

I keep a stony expression and watch as the scarred monk turns away from me and toward the sarugami. I won't assume Yudai is an ally, but this tension between the two groups could be of use. But only if I start setting the pace.

It could cause me trouble, but shaking these monks a little will tell me a lot about them and the sarugami.

Before either of them do anything to resolve the situation, I flourish my sword and snap it back into its scabbard. A useless trick that impresses youths by drawing the eye, and I notice a few of the monks staring.

"Once you're done talking," I say, "come find me. I'll be delivering this message to your elder since none of you can make a decision."

They must not believe what I just said, or that I'm already walking. The monks just stare, even the scarred one, and I keep enough distance so that none of them can catch me by surprise. The sarugami watch me over the monks' heads, Yudai appearing to wonder why I'm not using him and his kin as a shield. And why, despite what I said, I'm not yet going for the bridge.

That young monk I bloodied is the first to move. He rounds upon me, getting a single stride before the scarred monk snatches him by the back of the clothes.

"Do not be tricked," the scarred man furiously chastises, yanking the younger man to the ground before putting himself in the way.

I ignore the monks as they start to spread out to block or surround me, and instead I bend down and retrieve the dagger I threw. The blade is still good but there's a small scratch on the ring pommel. I definitely rattled a tooth. Glancing over at the monks who are all at least a head shorter than me, their numbers thinned by one off to the side caring for the man I threw, I slip my dagger away and point behind them.

The sarugami advance toward the monks, clubs held threateningly aside and big, leathery hands outstretched in a strange fighting pose.

"You won't harm a messenger," Yudai warns the scarred monk as half the group snaps to face the sarugami.

In truth, I didn't expect this either. But the monkeys I've seen so far haven't been too clever.

"You are on the side of the fox demons? Even after helping us?" the scarred monk scowls, deciding he can turn his back to me since I don't have any weapons out.

Only a hand hidden by my side, ready to send daggers flying after one another, but the monks might not know that. Except for the bloodied young man glaring my way.

"We aided you with Meiko, nothing more," Yudai says.

A wretched pit opens in my stomach upon hearing that.

"What?" I utter.

There's no chance for me to think about the truth, or what might be, I have to speak fast and be ready to strike faster.

"Meiko?" I ask, taking a few steps closer. "The kitsune held captive by the oni? What happened?"

Two people speak at once.

The scarred monk angrily growls, "That is enough, Yudai," while a broad shouldered monk glaring at me steps closer and raises his staff threateningly to shout, "Do not move, beastly creature!"

I slow down, about to say something when that staff flicks towards my face.

I lunge, snatching the end of his staff before he can make a full strike. I squeeze hard as the broad shouldered monk tries to yank it from my grip. Already familiar with that trick, I pull the staff towards me. I manage to drag him a step closer before the monk braces, both of us stopping.

"Twice I've been attacked," I say, voice raised just enough to silence everyone, "my words and good will unheeded. What do you monks see before you that's so wretched it must be beaten instead of spoken to?"

The monk twists and twirls the staff, tearing it from my palm. I'm inside his reach before he knows it, his eyes widening as he realizes his motions were too wide and his stance too sluggish.

"Wait!"

An empty hand slaps the back of the attacking monk's clothes, that scarred man scowling fiercely as he tugs his fellow back. My fist rises up where the younger man's chin had been, skin of my knuckles scraping flesh. The scarred monk's glare sharpens towards me, and then the younger man he saved.

There's a bit of blood on my knuckle and the monk's chin. His wipes at the red on him in disbelief, while I ignore the burn of a new scrape. What did he expect after trying to smack me in the face with his staff?

"If you have no mind," their scarred leader says, shoving the aggressive young monk away, "then make use of your legs and mouth. Go tell the Elder we need him."

"Ichiro, I-"

"Go."

That one word gets a bow out of the younger monk, his back turning and shoulder bumping against a sarugami as he scurries off in smoldering rage. Yudai ignores the provocation, observing the monks now convinced the monkeys have taken a side against them. I suspect it's manners and loyalty trying to keep them from offending Rin further and besmirching the honor of their tengu master, instead of any great dislike of the monks.

I grab the letter I had dropped to throw that punch and shuffle back a few strides and ask the scarred monk, "You are Ichiro?"

"Yes." He's in control of his expression and anger now. "Does my name matter, messenger?"

So now I'm a messenger? I suppose he won't apologize for the aggressive monk, or thank me for punching instead of drawing a blade, but this is a promising change.

"If it's your name, yes." I flex my hand in its sleeve, palm not bleeding so I ignore the fading pain. The thin bit of blood on my knuckle might not even be mine, either. "I'll wait only a while longer for your elder, and try to speak with him. If he doesn't try to crack my head open as well."

Yudai speaks up before any of the monks can. "What should we do, messenger of-"

"Stay out of my way," I interrupt. "I might not have needed to strike back at that young fool if you two hadn't riled the monks up."

The tall sarugami, club returning to hang from his waist, casts his gaze away guiltily. The shorter one, Yudai, utters an apology. I don't care about it, nor feel anything for using them against the monks. I distrust both of them.

Yudai bows, not to me, but the monks. "We are sorry. Our zeal to protect our master's relation with the Venerated Heir of Tenko washed all good sense from us."

"I understand what your loyalties are bound to," Ichiro says. "This messenger, however..."

"Save your words," I tell him, "more of yours are coming across the bridge."

Ichiro keeps me in his line of sight as he turns to look. That broad shouldered monk I nearly laid out is escorting someone walking with a dangerous gait despite age starting to wrinkle his face. Two monks with ringed staves join them. When they're halfway across the bridge, Ichiro turns and walks away, meeting the new group.

The few monks remaining near me take a tentative step back, faces saying they trust me less than even the sarugami. I just give a slight nod at them and take a step back of my own, to show I don't want a fight with them either.

While Ichiro talks to the older man, I slip the pack off my shoulders, using the chance to shift my legs.

I don't think there are any new bruises, just sore spots from where that monk tried to knock me over. Running will hurt but I should be faster than anyone but the sarugami, and once I'm in the forest all advantage from long weapons disappears for the monks. As it must have been for Saki when they captured her. Still, I regret not taking a spear with me.

I breathe out my stirring anger, pretending it's relief from setting down the heavy pack of supplies. If anything happened to Saki...

My back pops as I stretch. I can't outrun this rage. I'll let it simmer as I loosen my body.

What my ancestors see, if they're looking upon me ready for battle, must bring smiles to their grim hearts. Maybe I'll disappoint themby having a tongue sharper than these monks have eyes. None of them notice that I'm loosening my limbs and warming chilled fingers for a real battle, if needed.

---

The monks at the bridge take their time sharing words. Ichiro and that older monk are deep in discussion, the scarred man irritated despite showing every deference to his elder. As I'm the root of that frustration and thrown many suspicious glances, I stand straight and stare at the mountains after my stretching.

Rage gnaws at my ribs, demanding I am given way across the bridge to search the village for the missing kitsune.

The chill filling my lungs with each breath and sun dipping close to a mountain only strengthens my fury.

Those that wear the aspect of the wolf or bear to war would be snarling for blood and battle, but I'm worse. The barest touch of a cold sword or dagger pommel are all I need. I need no boasting, nor bragging, nor posturing. Good food, company I grew to feel at peace in, and sleep free of nightmares didn't get rid of hard earned instincts. Cunning and sharpened instincts are deadlier than any beast or man-eater.

The old monk moves, all the others at the bridge following him. Their talk is over, so I turn and wait for them.

The handful of monks standing guard against me are tense until I nod past them, and then they notice the group coming. The sarugami have stood their ground, watching and now ready to listen in.

The old monk and Ichiro stop only three of my steps away, well within the reach of a lunge or thrown dagger.

"What is this about a hostage?" the old monk asks, voice strong yet empty.

He must have seen fifty winters by now. Aged enough to be slower than me, but with age will be cunning and practice with his favored weapons. His face is creased by lines and starting to sag, especially near the eyes, yet he moves too smoothly for a simple old man.

"You tell me," I shrug. "I came bearing messages from the master of the mountain, along with her good will and supplies. But instead of letting me speak, I was called an oni and struck at, despite your temple giving me shelter not that long ago."

The old monk takes a single step closer, one hand held at his waist and clicking beads between his fingers. There are no weapons I see, yet that means nothing. He must believe that friendly, almost arrogantly peaceful expression is all he needs.

"Who are you?" he asks, fearlessly staring up into my eyes.

"Your temple knew me as Egil," I say.

"Ah, you are the foreign giant we heard so much about," the friendly old monk smiles, bowing to me in greeting. The others follow his lead, as if three of them hadn't tried to crack my skull open earlier. "I am known as Genji."

I dip my head, preferring to force the monks to talk more. I reach back, grab the basket of supplies, and haul it up with one arm for him. "Will you accept the goodwill I was asked to bring?"

I haven't disturbed Genji's pace at all. He takes the basket with one hand, then both as I let him have the weight. Surprise flickers briefly in his eyes, his knees dropping slightly to keep himself from tipping forward. I doubt the other monks noticed the shift in his posture or how he regards me.

I'm dangerous to him now. I need to be, if I want to be taken seriously instead of lied to constantly.

"As mighty as we heard," Genji says, clutching the basket in both arms and bowing shallowly. "Our thanks to your master."

"I'm a mere guest," I correct him, aware of how he's testing me instead of guessing, "helping out since I'm in good health again."

"Oh?" Genji's voice rises with his back. A younger monk shuffles forward and takes the basket from him, then the older man speaks to me. "Has your health been poor this winter?"

"A few well earned wounds," I say, remembering what Rin said she wrote in the letters, "and a short lived illness the day before."

"You've been ill?" Genji asks, shifting back but not quite lifting a sleeve over his mouth.

"A chill and fever that left as quickly as it came," I lie. "The same cannot be said for the kitsune that caught it. They're still feverish."

His look wonders how close I am with the kitsune that fell ill, or maybe he's surprised that I know they're kitsune.

"And where is Kenshin?" Genji asks. "He shouldn't fall ill by being in the same home as a sickly fox."

"The master of the mountain worries it spreads easily to us, even if we're kept apart," I lie again. "She couldn't turn him away and invited him in with the warning he shouldn't leave for a few days."

"Even for a woman she's always been too wary," Genji says to himself, thumb clicking beads rhythmically. "I trust Kenshin hasn't fallen ill already? He's the most robust of us, has been ever since he was taken into the temple."

Another test. No more lies, for now, but worse: truth.

"He was lively the last I saw him."

"And did he say anything to pass along to us?"

The monks having hidden messages to give back and forth would be wise. I must assume they planned as much when they sent a single man up with a binding spell, and that Rin would think of this as well.

"None that I heard, though I only exchanged a few words with him when he arrived. If he said anything, perhaps," I hold up the letter Ichiro refused, "the master of the mountain wrote it down in her message."

Well hidden annoyance draws a mask of calm across Genji's face. He takes the offered paper with both hands. I know it's polite in this land to offer with both hands instead of one, but I'll let him wonder whether I'm insulting him or merely ignorant. The kitsune didn't seem to care about it, so perhaps he believes I'm misguided from their manners. Uncertainty is useful, but mostly I want to insult him.

Genji opens the message right away, and with a curl of his finger he has Ichiro join him. The pair read it together, Genji the first to finish.

"I had not known there was so much suffering this winter," Genji says, leaving the paper with the scarred monk. Genji regards me with an expression drowning in peace. "Much has changed here since I last visited."

The old monk gestures to the river. "Children played at the water's edge, fathers showed their sons how to set traps or fish while mothers taught daughters how to wash and weave. No matter the season, the simple farmers greeted us with smiles and hospitality, but now there's ruin among the shadows of unjust death." Genji's calm, friendly gaze is almost brotherly – and entirely put upon. "Guest of this mountain's master, the letter mentioned you found this village emptied of its people, but no more. What happened?"

"That's a tale best told somewhere warm," I say, eyeing the huts across the river.

Which one is Saki in? Or Meiko, I remind myself. I won't know who they have until I see them for myself.

I don't let my gaze linger, as Genji is quick to speak. "Then if you would leave your weapons-"

"No," I declare, the old monk seeming to have known that would be my response. "These," I tap my sword, "have saved my life too many times this winter to disrespect them."

Excitement glimmers in Genji's dark eyes, digging deeper the roots of my mistrust. We've hardly clashed with words and he's already eager to try more; I'd never notice it if I hadn't seen his like many times before. Dangerous men that prefer words over iron or steel and try to twist and trap as if it were a game. They're usually men of such high positions I can't break their nose to make a point.

"Please understand we can't share a borrowed hearth with a foreigner who is a guest of foxes." Apologetically, the old monk tilts forward, yet not quite bowing.

I could make demands or reveal my purpose is to look for a kitsune now, but the old monk's demeanor stops me. My instincts win after a quick, quiet struggle. I'll say nothing about the oni or Saki. The less this Genji has, the less he can try to trick or bind me.

"I make no demands that you be my host," I say, "only that you hear what's happened to this village."

"We might not be able to share a hearth," Genji says, "but building a fire and talking beneath the stars will let the tengu's servants hear your tale as well. Since we found corpses of their kin, whatever you say will concern them and their black hearted master."

The watching sarugami must have stone walls for patience to not be defending their master. Everyone must have noticed their irritation at the comment, however, nostrils flaring and scowls twitching.

"It concerns them," I say, "but you should know the village was slain by kappa, not sarugami."

"Kappa?" Genji's eyes sharpen. "There has been no sign of those water demons."

Sometimes the best lie can only be given after part of the truth. They don't need to hear about the half-kappa, not yet, but everything else is worth sharing.

"Akaiyari and I killed every kappa we could find after we discovered their deeds. Yet something has continued to talk with the oni trapped away, and I assume make deals with it."

"Akaiyari?" asks Ichiro, the burn scar on his head trying, and failing, to crease.

"The kitsune use the story of Akaiyari to keep the peasants in fear," Genji tells him before meeting my gaze. "Some of the foxes are skilled enough to kill kappa, but I am afraid they deceived you as well, Egil. Akaiyari is only a story used to bewitch and trick."

Curse that splinter of hope I have to keep buried in my flesh, and these monks. I don't allow the rage near my lungs, even as my fingers burn with it.

"I know Akaiyari as a name," I say peacefully. "The kitsune who asked me to call her that only did so for the sake of the villagers. Who we were too late to save."

"If the fox wanted you to say that name," Genji steps forward and puts a hand on my shoulder, the man unaware of how much restraint it takes to keep myself from gutting him, "they meant to make use of you. Their deceptions build upon one another."

"It was a name to say before the peasants, nothing more. The kitsune who-"

"Ah, you misunderstand," the older monk sighs, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from punching his nose flat. "Deceptions of kitsune are deep and cruel."

Does he still believe the kitsune killed the villagers? Did I make him believe that with what I said? I refuse to ask, even if he wants me to. I simply furrow my brow, letting what I feel show as concern.

I must hold my tongue and let them make mistakes.

"Worry not," Genji says, "we can free you of the subtle bewitchings or curses they've placed upon you."

I knew they wouldn't trust me, but to think the monks would outright tell me I am controlled by the kitsune! I was right to be so wary. Everything I do will be weighed and measured like a merchant inspecting silver.

A shrug rarely disappoints and lets me loosen rage tightened shoulders.

"If you're so certain they have done something to me," I say slowly, as if considering much, "then you must have a way to prove it. Beyond your capture of Meiko."

Genji's beads click twice before he speaks. "The troubles of our temple are not yours, Egil."

"If you have Meiko, even I do not know how long the goodwill I was bid to bring will last you."

"That fox demon we have will not be harmed, nor do anymore harm," Genji says, voice weighted with authority for the first time. "You will not be blamed by the foxes, that I promise you."

I can imagine his shocked face as I drive a dagger up under his ribs, right into his heart, and twist so that his hot blood splashes out on cold mud. It remains nothing but a vision in my mind. I now know with certainty they have a kitsune. I must focus on that and keep my voice steady. Let them think of my reactions what they will.

I nod at the old monk. "I would see this kitsune you have, so I might tell the master of the mountain."

"We can decide that later," Genji nods with his well faked smile. He must trick many with that friendly old face. "After you let us cleanse you of any illusions or bewitchments the kitsune marked you with. You can keep your weapons on your belt, if you will allow us to tie them for peace."

Perhaps Genji is sincere and wants to help me instead of trying to trick and trap the messenger of a kitsune. Not that I'll let him. Any lingering signs of what Rin and Saki have done for my dreams could be twisted for proof of their wickedness. After all, why should these monks believe otherwise? Everyone they trusted or pitied in this valley is dead, and here I am, a rumor that's appeared as a guest of foxes they suspect of horrid deeds.

I'm fortunate to have only fought two of them instead of every man that came across the bridge.

Right as I'm about to speak another lie, one of the sarugami grunts.

"I would speak with him before you cleanse him, Genji," Yudai says.

"What for?" the monk asks, glancing over.

A crooked smile lifts my face, amusement I don't feel chuckling out of me. "If the sarugami have questions about their letter, maybe I can only answer them bewitched or cursed?"

"The foxes do use sly magic," Genji considers.

"You can watch me for signs of their trickery," I offer. "The sarugami can't protest if some of yours stand close."

Hearing that pleases the old monk. He might truly be trying to help me, even if his idea of helping is clouded by old resentment and suspicion. And if I am wrong about the sarugami, I will take any help I can get fighting them.

"You are her messenger, and it is your right to travel her lands as you see," Genji bows, sincerely this time. A step closer and he speaks quietly. "I will send Ichiro with you. The monkeys are simple, but their tengu master cannot be taken lightly."

"I only want peace to be kept," I nod, trying to ignore the foolish hope twinging under my skin.

I can't bring myself to believe there's a path out of this village that doesn't end with a fight. Still, I must try to carve one.

"Ichiro embodies the virtues of compassion and peace," replies the old monk.

That monk with the burn scar on his forehead acknowledges me with a polite bow. I return a shallower one, then rudely get moving without another word. Ichiro might as well be hiding a dagger, however, with how he watches me once he believes I'm not looking.

It's only a few steps to the two sarugami, who wisely stood aside when the old monk appeared. The short one, Yudai, shows no concern about anything he overheard, while the tall one doesn't appear to care about anything.

Within a single stride of the sarugami, I stop.

Beady eyes look away from me, towards Ichiro, then snap back. This close I can smell their breaths, and there's only a dull smell of grain and smoked meat. There's no sickly sweet rot to bring forth my terror. Still, I don't trust or like them.

"I have not introduced Sota," gestures the shorter sarugami to the much taller one. "If you find the monks' hospitality grating, you may stay in one of the huts we're using."

"That won't be needed, sarugami," Ichiro intones, matching the sarugami's quiet voice.

"His choice, not yours," Yudai grunts, disinterested instead of offended. "Isn't it, Egil?"

I'll be sleeping outside, if at all.

Instead of giving that away, and all but admitting I plan to sneak about in the dark if given no satisfying answers, I say, "Night hasn't fallen yet."

Before Yudai or Jikai can say anything else, I look between them and continue speaking. "I heard from Kenshin there were as many of you sarugami as monks, but I've only seen three."

"Kota," Yudai tilts his head toward the hut he came from, "and Kenzo to the south are the only other ones left. The rest are scouting or watching trails."

So the monks really are in the hut to the north.

Glad to have gotten something for nothing, I give them useful advice. "You should put more on watch at the path up the mountain."

"The monks," Yudai lowers his voice and glares accusingly at Ichiro, "said their men searching for bodies could keep watch as well. Seems they did," glancing towards a young monk getting lectured for attacking me, "but didn't have the thoughts in their head to talk."

Ichiro lifts his chin, defiant and offended. "He was told to watch for your kin, not a foreign man wearing a sword."

"Then why not send a sarugami and a monk?" I ask. "If none of you can agree, I'll keep watch myself once I tell the story of what happened to this village."

Ichiro's face doesn't seem to have ever known contentment, but the annoyance seeping from him lessens. "What is one more sarugami taking a watch? I will convince Genji, if he objects."

"Tch," Yudai shakes his head, then looks at Sota. "You are on guard of the forest path."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. Ready for the cold."

Grumbling a sigh, the taller sarugami leaves for the bridge. A few monks watch him suspiciously, but Genji speaks no complaint that I hear.

The peace holds, for now. Hopefully I haven't made my escape anymore difficult. The sarugami are loyal to their tengu master, not Rin. Perhaps I can convince them to let me by if I have to, but I won't count upon it nor their help.

"Now you almost have the village to yourselves, monks," Yudai mutters. He sneers, then relaxes as if remembering I'm still here. Voice kept low, he asks me, "I have several questions. Will you answer them?"

"Yes," I say, doubting he'll ask all of them with Ichiro next to me.

"You said you can smell our fallen kin. What do you mean?"

"If anything like you has defiled itself and eaten the flesh of a person, I can smell the rot on their breath."

Both the monk and sarugami take an interest in that.

"Did the fox demons teach you that?" Ichiro asks, taking me seriously this time.

"I had barely left my home when I learned I could," I tell him, "and the farther east I've come the fewer people could smell it. Though some still can, and some learn it after nearly dying to a man-eater."

"My master," the sarugami dips his head, "will be most interested in your talent. When you leave this mountain, she would be happy to host you."

I don't know if I'm going to leave this mountain alive, but the grimace that twitches underneath Ichiro's controlled face lets me know I should think that far ahead. To annoy him and make the monks question what loyalty I might have to the kitsune.

"I always consider offered hospitality," I say.

"If an invitation will sway you, she will give one."

I nod, and ask, "Do you have more questions, Yudai?"

The sarugami doesn't seem disappointed, which I would prefer. As would Ichiro.

Yudai's large mouth works, lips not opening, as he thinks. After a few shiftings of his jaw, he asks, "Are you a guest of the Heir of Tenko? Or are you an honored guest?"

Admitting it could be worse, but I must be careful with my lies. Before Ichiro can get suspicious over any hesitation I have, I speak up. "She called me her honored guest, after my deeds against the first kappa in the village."

Ichiro's and Yudai's bearings shift, subtly so. The sarugami speaks slower. "Was this the kappa that destroyed the village?"

"No," I reply, knowing the sarugami have been hunting their kind lately. "It was before the start of winter."

"I wanted to hear that wrong," Yudai grimaces. "Wretched river beasts."

Ichiro lowers his gaze, though remains defiant. "The oni is our greatest concern."

"Even more so," Yudai growls, "after you captured Meiko without telling us you'd try."

Genji might be staring holes into my back, but he cannot hear us right now. If it were just the sarugami, I'd ask if he had seen the kitsune, and if he might have known which it was, but Ichiro is here and listening.

Still, I have a different chance and strike at it, asking the monk, "How did you get her away from the oni?"

"I am sorry," Ichiro tilts into a shallow bow, "that is not for me to say, as I was not there to see."

I want to grab him by the throat and demand answers. Instead I nod, feigning something like understanding. They have a kitsune, I know that for certain now. Everything I do will be about earning enough trust to be shown who it is, then I make my real decisions.

"The oni cannot follow," I glance towards the direction of the mountain path, "can it?"

"He remains trapped," Ichiro assures me.

My heart hammers in my throat, battle in my blood, but I keep my words steady and fingers relaxed at my side. What if the monks do have Meiko? What if Saki is stalking about in the forest, or worse captured by Kenta and compelled to act as her mad sister? Should I ask about the hoshinotama or keep my knowledge of the kitsune gems a secret?

I need to hear more.

I shape my words purposefully. "I'd not known Meiko could be taken alive without breaking the barrier."

"A ripple from a stone disturbs the moon upon a lake, yet the moon itself does remain if you look up," says Ichiro, acting every bit the insufferable monk by speaking in a riddle.

Worry wells in my chest about the spell Kenshin used in Rin's home and how it unsettled the magics there. The monks can be confident of their knowledge and skill, I won't be. "Do you mean the oni is trapped because he believes he is, or that what you did tricked the barrier?"

I also want to ask if Kenshin's magic could have weakened the barrier unintentionally, but I cannot give that away.

Ichiro regards me differently, as if he's realizing I'm more than a tall, strong foreigner. Did he really believe I'd be impressed by how he spoke, or that I couldn't divine meaning from his words? Why does he think their temple let me stay with them for a time?

"Genji," Ichiro decides, "can tell you what it means."

I grunt, forcing myself to accept more waiting instead of cracking someone's bones.

Time to scare them with truth.

"Will Genji put more men on watch?" I ask. "If you've really taken Meiko, the oni will use any allies he has left. And I worry he might have one or two hidden."

The first thing like a smile reaches the edge of Ichiro's mouth. "That is what we hope for."

Fools. They're in a village that was slaughtered then partly burned down, and they think they can catch the oni while glaring at the sarugami stuck with them? That they've got the right kitsune to do anything but enrage Rin? That I'm not a hairsbreadth from breaking someone's jaw and demanding real answers?

My rage mists into cold once more as I breathe out, masking my sigh as simple frustration with the monks' ways. "And you won't tell me where Meiko is, even if I should know where the oni will aim his attack."

"I am most sorry," Ichiro bows, not sorry at all, "that is not my decision to make."

Of course it isn't. The monks have a leader, and I will only waste the precious dying light talking with anyone else. I glance at the group. Genji and the soot-covered young man are huddled in a conversation that sees the young monk bowing often. The one I threw is standing again and receiving the same lecture. Every monk carrying a staff watches me with raw suspicion. I'd do the same if I were them, mistrusting the foreigner carrying blades so carelessly.

"Do you have any other questions, Yudai?" I ask the sarugami.

He nods. "How good are you with that sword?"

"Good enough to kill all of your fallen kin that attacked me in the dark," I tell him.

The sarugami believes me, while of course the monk doesn't. It did sound like a boast, and it's not entirely true. I used my dagger as well, and there weren't that many after me. They had Hibiki's sabers to worry about in the dark, not just my sword.

"That is all I have to ask, for now," Yudai says.

I nod, getting his meaning. He has more to say when there aren't monks around. I'll be asking him about the kitsune the monks have, whether I get answers from them or not.

Ichiro starts to open his mouth. I turn away.

"Genji," I call out, rudely walking away from the sarugami, "with what I've heard about your recent prey, you must hear my tale before the stars are out."

The old monk stops his conversation and shows me a friendly, and well faked, smile. "Have you finished your questions, Yudai?"

"For now," the sarugami answers.

"Then come and sit Egil, the preparations for a fire are almost finished," Genji says.

Of course a pair of monks, with broad shoulders for this land, follow Genji as he walks to meet me halfway to the gathering of monks setting up a fire circle. Yudai and Ichiro are behind me. I'm badly outnumbered and can't be certain the sarugami will help me, or even stay out of my way.

It's almost like I'm traveling once more, unsure of what lies across the next hill or who might try to rob me as I sleep.

"If you've captured Meiko, any scavengers chasing favor with the oni will try to rescue her," I say, looking down at the older monk and subtly weighing his worth in a fight. It's poor to my eyes, no matter how skilled he might be. Saki, if she's not the one held captive, will be watching for her chance to strike. "That assumes the oni can't use whatever you did to catch the kitsune to free himself."

"The misguided monkeys must have told you about our first success in many years. Fear not," Genji confidently declares, "for the long lost and terribly fallen elder of mine cannot leave his cage."

"Did he fight you?"

"Our Lost fears appearing before us. Capturing the fox that conspired with him happened as swiftly as our escape down the path we first rose."

I doubt Kenta fears anything but Rin and Saki. "And you're certain it was Meiko in your snare?"

"What brings forth these doubts, man of an earthly path?" Genji's lofty tone can't escape arrogance, no matter how wise or refined he thinks himself.

I know I shouldn't mention my talk with the man-eater on my way down.

"Meiko has a twin sister, a mirror's reflection of her, who ventured down the path as soon as Kenshin appeared," I say, a quiet anger slipping through wiser instincts. "Either you took her as she came down, or the oni let you take Meiko."

"Such accusations need more than the guesses of a man bewitched," Ichiro says, rounding to stand beside Genji.

The older monk holds up a hand for peace, his other clinking beads and his face like that of a tender parent scolding a child.

"Forgive him his lingering attachments, traveler," Genji bows to me, "my student is quick to defend me in matters that need none."

Ichiro bows and utters an apology as well.

My brow rises. I'd expected an attack or further suspicion, not the older monk trying to cool tempers.

"It takes more than loyalty to offend me," I say. "If you believe I'm bewitched, then hear my tale of this village."

"Why should-" Ichiro bites his tongue when Genji puts a soft hand on his shoulder.

"To see if his memory changes after," Genji explains, "or if there are signs of bewitchment shaping what he says."

Ichiro's brow furrows, then embarrassment stiffens him.

The older monk looks at me. "Will you allow us to search you for signs of kitsune magic after you speak?"

"Only if you let me first see whether you have Meiko or her twin."

Genji shakes his head, no doubt suspicious of me even more. "We're the first to see this Meiko after many lifetimes of seasons passing. The descriptions matched who we found perfectly."

"As they would her twin."

"None of those foxes would choose to appear the same after what happened," Genji tells me. "You are mistaken or lied to, Egil. It is the way of women, and more so beastly women."

Telling them I've seen through kitsune glamours will earn too much suspicion, as would mentioning the scar on Saki's back. There are too many monks for me to start a fight, no matter how much I want to.

I choose my words carefully and quickly to make them believe I have a thinly controlled temper. Then again, I might. "Meiko is thinner in the face and her fur isn't as cared for as her twin sister's."

There's so much more I could say, but that's the most reasonable approach I can think of. Too much suspicion rises among the monks from that little bit alone.

"How do you know this?" Genji asks, betraying nothing.

He doesn't need to show his doubts, the rest of the monks nearby and listening reveal theirs. Only a few can truly hide it.

"I had a good look at Meiko before winter set in."

"Yet you're here," Yudai says, "and not roasting over an oni's fire pit."

Should I really hide that I spoke to Meiko and the oni on my way down?

Ichiro's scowl and Genji's disapproving look at the sarugami give me more time to consider, even as mountain dusk begins to descend upon the valley.

I tell them now, or not at all.

"Meiko has tried to trick me a handful of times, once more today as I descended the mountain to come here," I say, not watching anyone too closely. The monks don't jump at me, though doubts settle deeper into their reserved and arrogant gazes. I continue before it worsens, deciding not to mention the conversation with Kenta. "Before winter's beginning, I saw Meiko. A kitsune traveling with me kept me safe, but I'll not forget Meiko's face. She's different enough from her twin that I won't mistake her."

Most, I suspect however, would mistake them. I've seen a lot of Saki's face up close recently.

"Why would you trust the kitsune?" asks a younger monk.

"He speaks well," Genji says. "How do you know you saw Meiko at all and not some trickery?"

I reach for the top of my clothes, loosening them at the chest while slyly hiding the charm Rin gave me and keeping a hand on Saki's mask to keep it unseen. Cold touches my skin as I bare the scars beneath.

"Your elders must not have told you of my rage," I say, letting them see the jagged path of claws that had tried to tear my ribs apart. "My purpose upon this mountain is to hunt man-eaters, for my hate has never once waned since a tiger headed beast nearly gouged my heart out." I tug my clothes back into place. "I heard rumors of something here. Eventually I was told about Kenta, and I agreed to hunt him. It took me seeing Meiko to understand why the kitsune don't want anyone to step off the path, as mere meeting of eyes dropped me into helpless slumber. "

There's still doubt in many eyes, but less in Ichiro's and Genji's. To my amazement, they seem to believe me.

"You and my student are alike in your worldly attachments," Genji breathes out, turning his head towards the monks watching us. "Have you finished the fire pit to be standing around so?"

The calm question hurries along all but a couple of staff holding monks.

"Sit and tell us your story, then I will let you see we have Meiko," Genji says with a formal bow.

I return it, then say, "Before I speak or agree to anything, I advise having more men on watch."

"If a hunter of man-eaters advises me, I'll listen. The foxes could not make up such a past for you."

"You trust me now?" I ask, knowing it's dangerous to do so.

"The stories of you mentioned your rage against monsters and your many scars," Genji says. "I've trained men like you, but could never become one. All of my ability will support you, once I am certain you are not being deceived."

"Then if you believe my scars, put more men on watch. The sarugami alone won't be enough." There's a thoughtfulness in Yudai's eyes that I'd never expected from his kind, as he nods in agreement. "Last I was in this village," I add, "we were attacked in the darkest hours before dawn."

"Ichiro," the old monk says, "gather up half the disciples here to strengthen the watches."

"Yes, master," Ichiro says.

"I am not your master," Genji says, but it falls on deaf ears.

Many of the monks, including Ichiro, leave for the bridge.

"And Yudai, if you would send word to your brethren?" Genji asks.

"It will be done," Yudai says. "There are shallows leading out of the valley. I'll have eyes there, to spot any kappa sneaking here."

"Focus on the river and trails yours found," Genji instructs. "Your eyes are better than ours in this dark."

Yudai grunts and goes across the bridge, glancing at the hut to the south.

There's still a chance at peace, so I follow Genji to a freshly prepared fire pit where two younger monks start hanging a pair of pots from sticks. We sit on the cold ground, the sarugami Yudai returning surprisingly quickly, and I begin talking about my time in this valley while food is prepared.

---

The moon's fat crescent glows among the sea of stars as my story goes on and on.

From the rumors that brought me to this mountain to my first meeting with Rin, to my oath to get rid of the oni, on to the kappa that broke my arm in the river. How the kitsune took me in so I might recover, the tragedy of the village we were too late to stop, and even the first time I saw the half-kappa Taro.

The monks take interest in my mention of Taro, but I claim ignorance on what he wanted. None of them need to know about how the half-kappa tried to get Saki's hoshinotama. My speaking of only partial truths is proven wise when they try to pour questions upon me after learning the kitsune wanted to purify the half-kappa.

I have no answers for what they meant to do. Though I do guess the kitsune wanted to save the last member of the village if they could.

I continue the story, Yudai's dark face taking on an ashen pallor when I speak of the man-eater sarugami that stopped the kitsune plan to purify Taro. I only mention one of the kitsune sisters being injured and my rescue of her, as I'm uneasy giving names the monks don't already know. Nor do I speak even a hint of how the kitsune were interested in me as a man, for the listeners might think it proof of a curse upon me instead of honesty.

I end my tale by mentioning how the unexpected visitors this morning ruined all the plans we'd had for baiting out the oni. "After all, the man-eater won't care about a foreign man using himself as bait when the monks he hates are so close."

Of course no one listening feels shame at their part in ruining the plan.

Genji, sitting with his legs crossed in a very uncomfortable looking way, nods when I stop speaking to drink from my water gourd. He refused any food, as have I. Everyone else ate a simple porridge and passed around a jar of pickled vegetables. My story withered what appetite I should have after walking down the mountain, and I noticed more than a few monks could only pick at their bowls thoughtfully after hearing of the village's slaughter.

"I should have protested when the elders let the half-kappa child remain here," Genji mutters towards the fire.

"You could not have known, master," says the young monk I first met, now clean of soot except for his robes.

It seems he didn't lose a tooth after all.

"The boy needed guidance," Genji says, "not to be forced upon a family that would blame him for his birth."

I wonder what the monks would do if I told them Rin should be seeking answers from the half-kappa tonight, and that mercy on this mountain has stretched thin. Nothing good for me, I believe.

"The village's end comes from choices, such as my inaction," Genji continues, eyeing the men that follow his every word.

Even I feel moved, for the worse. Had I been faster...

No. I told Miki not to dwell on such things, so I shouldn't. I owe the kitsune, all of them, that much. But especially the two-tail that saved my life.

I stretch my boots towards the fire, not feeling much of the warmth. Instead there's the simmering anger demanding I find the kitsune they captured.

I need patience, lest I stir up a swarm of hateful hornets in my heart.

"I expected more questions," I say, dragging my thoughts towards one purpose.

Getting to the kitsune they have captive.

"Mine can wait," Genji replies.

"Then tell me," I begin, "how you caught this kitsune you claim to be Meiko."

"Not here," Genji says, rising up from that cross-legged position without help. "Come, traveler."

I stand, and notice a few monks forgot how tall I am.

"Tell everyone what is to be done," Genji instructs. "I will take the traveler myself."

All the monks get up and bow, then start breaking down the small camp. Someone brought lamps, the dim light glowing against the shroud of night. Yudai ambles upward, takes one of the lamps, and leaves for the other side of the bridge without a word. Genji receives his light, and with nothing but his stare asks me to follow.

Once we're on the bridge, I notice no one can help Genji fast enough if I have to strike. So I ask, "You are taking me to the kitsune, aren't you?"

"Where the oni's allies might aim an attack," he says.

Of course he knows I'll follow him when he says that. Sparing only a glance over to the monks smothering the coals, I follow their leader.

I keep my eyes high above the weak light of Genji's lantern, adjusting my sight instead to the moon's glow as best I can. We head toward the most northward hut, his slow stride almost infuriating. The man means to test me again.

We pass around the empty fields instead of through them. I can at least see our destination as we meander: a hut, set higher than many of the others, pricks of light spilling out of its crude door. The smell of smoke and strange herbs burning drifts on a cold breeze.

"Where are you from, traveler?" Genji asks.

"A land of harsh winters."

A sound of interest rattles in his throat. "How do those winters compare to the one about to pass?"

"We're not walking atop snow piled up taller than me."

His feet actually stop and his eyes turn my way.

I raise a brow, certain the shadows darken my grim face. He decides not to ask further, though I at least know what he looks like when he's openly suspecting someone of lying.

Genji's steps resume, but they're much shorter and slower now. "After you crossed the sea," he asks, "before you tracked mutterings of a man-eater to these mountains, did you face any of the beasts of this land?"

"None of note," I answer, "only men."

"You've killed more than man-eaters, haven't you?"

I don't hold back an amused sound.

"Is the weight of a life so little to your people?" Genji asks, as if he genuinely wants to know instead of preparing an excuse to lecture.

"What would you do if bandits attacked a caravan you traveled with?" I ask. "Or if a friend that welcomed you into his home and treated you as if you were his brother had his daughter taken? And in helping him find her, you have to slay every man responsible, so they might not do it to another?"

Genji makes a sound as if he understands. "You remind me of Ichiro."

"For more than our scars?"

"Because of what gave both of you scars," Genji says. "Before I found him, Ichiro beheld his lord being murdered by a nekomata. The fire the demon beast made to escape killed many, including Ichiro's family, and wounded him more than you saw."

"No such suffering befell me," I say.

"Your rage is the same, and it will consume you the same."

I keep walking instead of asking how, as I know Genji will tell me eventually.

It only takes a handful of steps for Genji to speak again. "Ichiro would hunt down demon beasts like the nekomata, if I let him."

"If you let him?"

"None of us are like our brothers you met at the temple, Egil. All of us have killed. To protect and for compassion, but that does not wash away what we have done."

"A poor threat, if you mean it as one," I say with a shrug.

"Not at all," Genji replies, the dark too deep for me to judge if he means it. "Whether you've heard the truth or not, we share a purpose. I wanted you to know that."

"You mean killing the oni."

"Yes," the old monk utters, voice dropping low. "Hearing it spoken so lightly will upset my disciples, but it is the truth, is it not? Thus, why should it not be spoken as easily as greeting a man on the road?"

There's more he wants to say, so I keep quiet.

It doesn't take long for Genji to speak back up.

"Once we have ensured you are cleansed," he says, "I hope you will help us. And me."

"How are the two different?"

I'm glanced at again, shadows stretching eerily across Genji's face. "Ichiro struggles with anger," he says, facing head, "even after we recently brought to peace the nekomata that torments his dreams. I believe your help will convince him of the path he should walk, not what his rage urges him to."

This Genji, despite hearing nothing about my nightmares, is unpleasantly sharp. "What could a foreigner convince him of?"

"One must learn from every encounter," Genji says. "Anger is empty, as all attachments are."

This is about more than nightmares or rage. I'm something new, someone that has gotten close to the kitsune yet is willing to listen to the monks when they'll talk instead of swing staves. But even if Genji is sincere about helping his disciple, he wants to use me against the oni if not the kitsune as well.

Then again, the kitsune have made no secret of wanting my help. Genji isn't either, in his own shifty ways. The difference might only be time and how close I've gotten to the foxes. Had I stayed with the monks at their temple and ended up among their number visiting this village, how different would this winter have been?

Dark thoughts befall me, and a cruel choice comes to my mind with them.

With one strike I could sprawl Genji out on the ground. Then I run to the hut that Saki must be in, kill who I must, and do whatever I can to see her out of this village. If it's Saki and not Meiko like the monks insist - I must not close my mind around one possibility.

I nearly touch the mask hidden in my clothes. Instead, I cup my fingers and blow on them to warm them, not needing to pretend to be deep in thought. The old monk leaves me be and keeps his pace painfully slow. Good. Anything more from him and the patience I demand of myself could crack.

Should peace be possible, I must grab onto it instead of his throat as my ancestors would want.

My fingers drop back into my sleeves when we reach the hut, a rhythmic drone like cicadas coming from within, muffled by wood.

I don't notice the noise for long, as a man moves out from the hut's shadows.

"Master," the monk bows to Genji, my fingers near a blade I won't draw.

It's Ichiro, here instead of watching the bridge or river.

"I am hardly anyone's master, Ichiro," the older monk chides, but it's something he must say so often it's become a thoughtless habit.

"Has he been cleansed?" Ichiro asks.

"Not yet," Genji replies.

"Why not?" Ichiro asks, leaning forward to get a better look at me.

"Egil is a man that hunts demon beasts," Genji says. "His story matched what I heard of him from our brother disciples at the temple. If the foxes have bewitched him, then meeting the one we captured should be no danger."

Ichiro mutters a small prayer. "I will join you."

"Stay here and stand watch," Genji instructs.

"Yes, master."

"I'm not your master anymore."

"As you say, master."

Genji's exasperated look says he's never felt success correcting Ichiro, but also that he will keep trying.

It's good they're so distracted, as my fingers itch to smash their heads together and kick that door down to see if Saki is in there. I'm so close it aches. But I must restrain myself. Even if the monks become my enemy and peace cannot be found, I need to have an escape ready. Blundering about in the dark with a kitsune who might be bound by a spell I cannot break, or worse, will not end well. Grabbing a hostage or two might do if help comes down the mountain, but there's a chance I won't need to.

If I'm not careful, I'll bite my tongue or dig my fingers into my palms hard enough to draw blood. Saki could be so close, doubtless in need of my help, yet I have to wait.

I haven't felt this sort of rage in a long time.

"Are you well?" Genji asks me.

"It has been a long winter," I breathe out.

Ichiro doesn't understand, but Genji nods gravely after hearing my story. "It has.Yet my aged bones have been telling me the seasons will change soon."

"Do you mean to kill the oni before the leaves bud?" I ask, glancing between the two monks.

If there's peace to be had, it will be based upon our foe, Kenta.

"If we can," Genji says, expression telling Ichiro not to ask any questions. "To speak is to be certain. Meiko is in here, but I cannot allow you past the wards until you are checked."

My stomach drops at the same time my heart thunders in my head.

"You go back on your word?" I ask, to be certain I heard him right.

"I meant for you to see the kitsune," Genji says. "Walking with you, and seeing the anger you still cling onto, I-"

"If you have Meiko's twin," I utter emotionlessly, drawing close enough that Genji takes a step back and Ichiro hunches in preparation for a fight, "finding the mistake now will save much grief. You had the strength to walk with me here, and now I hear excuses. Do you think me a man of no wits? That I have not heard deceptions more cunning than what you try?"

"It is no deception," Genji says, standing his ground as he realizes it's a battle of words, not fists. "Capturing one of the foxes was more difficult than expected. Our wards-"

I pound a fist against the hut's wall, the chanting within unbothered but Genji and Ichiro both flinching. "Whatever aid you want from the kitsune won't come if you have Meiko's twin."

"That is-"

"Enough, Ichiro," Genji gently commands, both his hands grabbing the younger monk. If the knife Ichiro has in his sleeve had come out, then both of them would have died, followed by every man in that hut. "Understand this anger of his, do not match it with your own."

"As I told Genji, Meiko's twin came down at noon," I tell them, burying my temper. "I would have noticed signs left by her, but I found nothing." Which is true, I was given the mask by the man-eater.

Genji finds the strength to relax his face and appear unafraid. It might be a bluff after my outburst. That or he is convinced I will not harm him.

"Meiko approached us," Genji says, confident and calm. "She appeared as a woman servant coming down the path after one of my disciples tripped and our backs turned to help him."

I take a step away, drawing in a deep breath and ensuring Ichiro is in my sight. This is either a good lie or the truth I should have gotten sooner. "Your backs turned?"

"Yes," Genji nodded.

So they were in danger of trickery from Meiko, if she had followed them. If they're telling the truth. From Ichiro's tense jaw, I think they're being honest. But that doesn't mean they're right.

"And how did you know she was Meiko?" I ask.

"She asked us to follow her without giving a destination. I knew she meant ill and undid the illusions hiding the fox," Genji explained. "Once I saw her, I knew it was the same fox my master and his master told me of, the same one who betrayed Kenta and stole from us." Genji shuffles his feet, lantern bobbing as he takes a defensive stance while trying to appear he isn't. "I suppressed her before she could work magic, then we bound her."

"So you don't know which kitsune it was."

"I do," Genji says, peaceful tone not matching his annoyed, shadowy eyes.

"Was she dressed in black?" I ask. "Wearing the clothes a warrior might have underneath armor?" I almost touch what's hidden in my clothes. "A white and red mask carved from wood?"

"Egil," Genji dips his head lightly, "she wore no mask. What you describe is not any one kitsune but one of their tricks. Akaiyari, what I have already told you about."

I bite my tongue, that slip from agonized worry casting doubt over me that I didn't need. If I claim it was a slip of my words, I know neither monk will believe me.

"I know now I cannot trust your memory until we have cleansed you," Genji explains, sounding like a gentle and concerned grandfather. "I hoped you would trust us if you at least knew where we kept the fox demon, but I see you don't."

It's a brief flicker of lamplight, but the old monk's smile shows the deceptive cunning and joy in this battle of words. The length of my arms and swiftness of my feet would let me punch his nose flat before he knew it, yet what would that get me other than a village full of monks and sarugami after me? Maybe not the monkey like beasts, but I doubt they would leap to my aid.

"So be it," I breathe out. "I will speak to the sarugami."

They might not aid me, but do the monks know that?

"Wait, traveler," Genji says. "We can-"

"Dawn," I tell him, walking off into the night on my own. "You may cleanse me at dawn, or tonight after I have seen the kitsune."

"Do not turn your back upon my master," Ichiro snaps, his feet shuffling.

I turn to look at him, hiding the thumb I hook through a dagger's pommel.

Genji slaps the back of Ichiro's head.

"Enough," he chides, saving the scarred man's life. "If the traveler has made up his mind, we cannot force him to accept a deal that changed. The least I can do is keep him from stumbling his way back."

I stare at him, and for the first time I hold nothing back.

I see the gleam of fear that reflects in Genji's lamplit eyes. He knows his mistake. That in a moment I could kill him and Ichiro, then storm into the hut before any help arrives.

My blood thunders in my chest, demanding I do my cheering ancestors proud and doom these monks to their halls. Send a dagger flying, draw my sword, and chop down these insufferable monks. Ichiro first, then Genji. Slowly I start to draw the dagger while relaxing my shoulders and softening my face.

The blade is a finger's width free when the words of my father, that I have tried to forget, fill my mind.

Son, always kill the younger, faster man first when in a shieldwall. Let the old burn with anger. Anger steps too far, swings too wide, goes past your friend's shield. Split the throats of your foes then.

Even if I'm not in a shieldwall now, heeding that wisdom will still serve me well.

I cut through the fields, glancing over my shoulder with suspicion at the two monks. The fields are empty and barely muddy, but eventually I have to look ahead. Genji reluctantly hurries after me, stepping as if he might crush something precious underfoot.

How my fiery ancestors must howl in anger and bicker at each other if they're watching me. They should know the worst vengeance is cold, unexpected.

Perhaps I could stop and flip Genji's words around on him if I tried, but why should I give him a battle he wants?

If Rin isn't coming down now, then she'll be here tomorrow. I'll find Saki before sunrise on my own. And the peace I fought my blood and rage to keep? That's slain, by treachery and ill dealings of men that have made their choices, yet they may stay ignorant of their folly. For now.

When we're only fifty paces from the light leaking huts, Genji rushes to my side, panting.

"Will you reconsider?" he asks, brow shining with sweat in lantern light.

"Will you?"

I might have actually scared Genji, as he seems taken aback by the simple counter. "If not the cleansing, will you accept staying with us? After what happened to you, can you stand to be around the sarugami?"

I don't know, and that's why I'm going to them. To pressure the monks, obviously, but also to see if the monkeys really are willing to give their lives at Rin's command.

"A traveler like me lives by hospitality," I say, "and Yudai offered his."

"That is no answer."

"It is," I reply, spotting Yudai standing outside a hut. "Whether you accept it or not, Genji, I don't care."

The old monk regains his cunning. "If the tengu's servants turn against the master of the mountain, we will help the foxes," Genji says quietly, making certain the sarugami overhear.

I hadn't counted on him being so bold.

"I expect you to do as you will," I tell him. "We'll speak again at dawn and you can do that cleansing."

Genji starts to speak, but I leave him behind. When dealing with men that strike with words, setting your own pace can unsettle them. For a time.

I hurry along to the sarugami waiting outside his claimed hut. Genji starts to follow me again, only to break away for one of the opposing huts. Wise old man, he's certainly planning how to ambush and trap me at dawn. A dawn he might not see.

As I stand before Yudai, the sarugami bows to me.

Now begins the most difficult part of my hasty plan born of ire.

"What happened?" Yudai whispers.

"Nothing," I reply, going into the hut with a hand on my dagger, "and that's the problem."

"Can we do anything for you?"

I'll start simple and bold to feel out where I stand.

"If you have an extra knife or two, I'll take them," I say, glancing back at the sarugami following me. My back itches thinking about having to battle him in the hut, but I should be able to make enough racket to get the monks to come help if it comes to that. If. "And if you can tell me when the monks' watch changes, I need to know."

Yudai considers with a drawn out, concerned grunt. He places the door behind us and says, "You'll have the knives. And the monks won't change watches for a while."

I finally look away from him and nearly throw a blade.

The hearth is warm, bright, and Sota is sitting there. I stare at him, wondering why he isn't guarding the path from the mountain. Are they tricking the monks? This makes my shoddy plan more dangerous. I'll have to fight two sarugami if I believe they won't help me, or side with the monks.

I can hardly call this a plan, testing the sarugami's loyalty so I can either get their aid or start a fight and draw the monks and monkeys into conflict. Gut feeling and restrained rage guide me more than thought and cunning. But I must try to get help, of some sort, before storming a hut to save whichever kitsune the monks have. If that means swallowing my disdain for the sarugami and seeing if they really will pledge their lives to Rin's causes, so be it.

The tall sarugami stares up from the pot he's boiling millet and smoked boar in. "You're back?" he asks, as if finally noticing me.

"Keep your voice down," Yudai growls, making the hair on my neck bristle as he passes by.

I don't hide how I clutch the hilt of a dagger and put distance between myself and either of the sarugami. Only when Yudai is sitting on his knees by the fire do I join. I seat myself on a rough cushion, unwilling to treat the sarugami as hosts when this isn't their home.

I barely hold the sarugami in less contempt than the monks right now.

Yudai gets a simple cup, filling it for me from a second pot near the fire. After he drinks from his own cup, I try the nearly scalding water. To make it look like I'm trusting them, even though I want to skip this attempt at talking and start striking at them instead, I decide to eat something even if my appetite is gone.

Anger makes mistakes.

I take out one tonjiki, saving the rest for Saki.

"There's warm food if you wait," Sota says, eyes asking Yudai if his voice is quiet enough now.

"Cold is almost a friend right now," I tell him between bites.

The tall sarugami doesn't understand, and Yudai shrugs when glanced at.

The shorter sarugami, taking a bowl and eating a few spoonfuls slowly, waits for Sota to eat half a bowl before he asks, "Did the Heir of Tenko poison the supplies she sent?"

My head snaps towards the monkey. Sota coughs on his food.

Why hadn't I thought of that when discussing matters with Rin? Even what Shizuka and Miki put in our wine would've been useful.

Yudai nods, sighing sadly. "She didn't."

"Maybe she did," I say, wishing she had.

"If she did," he says, "her honored guest wouldn't be longing for that cunning."

It frustrates me that he's right, and that he's sharper than I first guessed. I ignore both of the sarugami and focus on the food. Even if I have to fight them, I should rest and warm myself some. Scraps of strength come with the distraction and forcing my limbs to rest.

I need everything I can get for tonight.

Memories come with the taste of sour plum inside rice, bittering my hate for how poorly I handled the monks. I should never have believed Genji would uphold his word. I've grown soft from being among the kitsune, that I will not deny. When I first came to this mountain I would have made Genji swear an oath or demanded more after his companions attacked me.

What's done is done.

I finish eating and toss the bamboo leaf wrapper into the hearth's fire. Yudai decides now is the time to reach over, holding something out for me in between his fingers.

A pair of knives, just as I'd asked. One of my fingers is longer than either, but it's better than nothing. The handles fit my hand and the blades are well cared for. I nod, the closest to appreciation I feel like showing a sarugami, then start darkening the blade over the fire. It shouldn't be needed, but if I have to kill any of the monks, I don't want them seeing the edge coming. And a hot blade to stab at the sarugami, should it come to that.

Sota burns with a question, yet a look from Yudai keeps him quiet.

"Anything else you need?" Yudai asks me.

"Would you offer your neck to Rin if she demanded it?"

"Yes," Yudai says, and even Sota grimly nods.

"What if her honored guest, acting in her name, demanded your heads?" I touch my sword and stop trying to hide how ready I am to kill someone.

"The Venerated Heir of Tenko's letter told us her honored guest of blue eyes speaks with her voice. And that we should cut our own throats if you asked," Yudai says, keeping his hands where I can see them.

Neither of them look worried. That's either good for me, or very bad for everyone in this hut.

"Then instead of your heads," I say, looking between them, "I need answers."

"All we know is yours to hear," Yudai says, prostrating himself, baring his neck for my blade if I choose to swing it. Sota is quick to match him.

This is going too smoothly after dealing with Genji. I get a stranglehold on my furious doubt and ask, "Did you see the kitsune the monks have?"

"I did," Yudai says.

"I didn't," Sota mutters at the ground.

"Are you certain it was Meiko?"

"No," Yudai replies, my heart twisting in my chest. It gets worse when he says, "I have only seen the Heir of Tenko's shadow and the illusions of her sisters on this mountain."

"I can barely tell the kitsune apart," Sota admits guiltily.

"Then don't answer me unless I question you," I tell the larger sarugami.

Sota grunts an apology. I ignore it and stare at the back of Yudai's thick neck.

It would put me at ease if I stood, yet I don't want to risk starting a fight by moving just yet. They could be deceiving me as Genji did. "This kitsune you saw, what did she wear?"

"The monks had her wrapped up in a blanket," Yudai says. "I didn't see."

"Was she injured?"

"Not that I saw."

I breathe out slowly, and then back in deep and strong. "Where did they take her?"

"To the hut on the hill," Yudai answers. "The same Genji brought you to."

So maybe I hadn't been completely lied to.

"And what will you do if the monks captured the wrong kitsune?"

"Whatever displeases the Venerated Heir of Tenko least." Yudai glances at me, turning his head just a moment before staring back at the ground. "Give us a command and we will see it through, honored guest of Tenko's Heir."

I don't trust them. Starting a fight between the monks and sarugmi would be the easiest way for me to stir up the village, grab whichever kitsune they've got in the madness, and then flee into the woods. That's the anger speaking in my heart, however.

"Swear it thrice, upon the name of your master," I command, "that you will do as I say, and not betray me else you will be betraying your master."

They speak together, roughly at first, but quickly they share the words. I watch them more than I listen. Only when they've made the oath the third time do I reach up and touch the silver rune on my neck and the charm the kitsune made for me underneath it.

"Sit up," I say, taking the great risk of believing the sarugami's conviction and oath upon their tengu master's name.

They rise, Sota keeping his eyes down while Yudai asks, "What can we do for you, honored guest?"

"Stop calling me that."

"At once," Yudai dips his head. "Is there anything else you need from us?"

"Not unless you have a way for me to see in the dark."

"My master might, but not me," he shakes his head, then stops and bows lightly in apology.

I hope this tengu is never a problem, there are enough on this mountain. "When should I sneak out to remain unseen?"

Yudai taps his chin, thinking. A smile starts to spread across his face, showing fangs that make my knuckles go white.

Wild terror itches upon my chest, and I'm suddenly aware that the pot on the fire is within reach. I could swing it at his head faster than I could draw my sword. Sota, however, is closer to me. I'll splash him with the pot then throw it at the other as-

"You don't need to wait," Yudai says, standing up and fang filled smile disappearing.

I remember to breathe normally, and I'm on my feet before him. I might have been a hairsbreadth from killing both of them, but my instincts burn brightly. If I make it through this night, I might feel grateful instead of furious at him.

"What?" I manage to ask.

"Whoever this kitsune is, they must be important," Yudai says, reaching to the rafters.

"Very," I utter, wanting the warmth of Rin and Saki at my sides now that night is deep.

"Then a hunter of demon beasts should be on watch," he replies, pulling a blanket from the rafters and tossing it to me.

I catch it, prickling rage slowing my understanding. Yet it comes, bit by bit. Since I'm around nothing but potential enemies, no matter what they say of themselves, it never once came to my mind to be part of the increased guard. Throwing the dark blanket about my shoulders as a rough cloak, with nothing to pin it in place, I nod.

"If anyone challenges you," Yudai says, going to the door but not opening it, "bring them to me."

I slip the blackened, and cooled, knives into my sleeves. "I will cause trouble before then, or worse."

Yudai chuckles, his fang filled smile returning. "What do you command?"

"Frustrate the monks but don't make them your enemy unless I'm stuck."

"Wouldn't it be easier if I joined you?" Yudai asks, starting to realize that this isn't about honor for me. This is personal.

Trusting the monks was a mistake, but there's nothing I can do about the sarugami if they decide to warn Genji instead of aid me. Yudai already knows I'm out to hunt men instead of man-eaters.

"Keep to the patrols," I say. "If they have Meiko or the wards are weakened, Kenta will try something. And even if he doesn't, who knows what he has lurking about."

"We will abide by the will of the Heir of Tenko," Yudai says, more formally than I've heard from a sarugami, before opening the door.

A monk standing a dozen strides away watches me as I leave, but his gaze turns when he sees Yudai following me.

"Our guest doubts he can sleep," the sarugami calls to the monk. "I offered him part of our watch, on the path he found towards the kappa nest."

"I will ask master Genji if-"

"If I'm allowed?" I scowl. "Tell him what I'm doing, but remember I am on this mountain for the hunt of man-eaters. Not as part of your temple."

The monk, who I now see is the same youth that had been digging through burned rubble when I came down, is caught by indecision as the sarugami and I walk away. He'll tell someone soon. I won't have long before word spreads, as Genji and Ichiro are sure to be suspicious of anything I do.

The light of the moon and stars are hardly enough to see the monkey's back, but the lack of a lantern is what we need. Darkness is neither friend nor foe this night.

I listen to the faint wind, the sarugami's breath, and our footsteps, searching for anything amiss. All while watching the dark shape lumber slowly ahead of me, ready to lunge at his legs with the small blade if he tries anything. A hundred or more paces puts us far from the bridge, and at a large rock by the water, Yudai stops.

"I'll be here," he mutters, then points far down the river, "or at the edge of the trees. If there's an attack, I'll make three fast calls. If the monks try something, one long bellow."

Glints of fangs and teeth have my hand on a dagger, ready to make certain the sarugami cannot become a man-eater. Desperation tries to scratch through my instincts and insist that the monks and sarugami are only strained allies. I don't need to trust either, only how each has behaved. It wasn't a sarugami that unleashed a spell in Rin's home, after all.

My teeth grind, so I can only nod at Yudai. His beastly eyes seem to glow as he bows deeply.

"Good hunting," the sarugami utters, before seating himself on the rock and staring at the water.

I stalk away, heart full of doubts and chest frigid with rage that's built since I first saw Kenshin this morning. A blackened knife in one hand, another holding my makeshift cloak on, I hunch low and make for the northmost hut.

Do I trust Genji has told the truth? That the sarugami are right about where the kitsune is?

No, but I can break someone's bones until they tell me where Saki - or Meiko I, remind myself - has been taken.