lambenttyto

Chapter IV—Benefits of a Patron Deity

“I cannot believe you are eating again!” Shinjiro complained. “Where do you put it all?”

Rōkura glanced up at the swordsman and murmured wordlessly with a shrug as she filled her mouth.

Hans chortled. “Let the girl eat—she is hungry.”

Rōkura ravaged the last bit of meat from the baked bird, her mouth full to bursting as she swallowed. The taste and the feel of the succulent meat and butter and spices sliding down her throat were wholly satisfying.

She made to reach for her mug, but realized her hands were incredibly greasy. Shinjiro stretched his long arm over the table with a quilt napkin and the oni took it with thanks.

The room Hans had paid for was large, with two separate areas. It had four beds, a sitting area, and even a hearth. Despite the rain and the subtle chill, the hearth remained deserted of flames.

Thunder rumbled overhead. The dark skies made the chamber dim and uninviting, but the candelabra provided a little extra light for them to see. The food and drink had been brought up so they could speak without being overheard.

Rōkura’s eyes had bulged at the gold in Hans’ hands. “Oh,” he had said casually. “This will be quite too much for a simple room.”

“Simple room?” Shinjiro asked. He gestured to the inn sign. “This is the Four Candles—it’s no ‘simple inn.’”

Hans sighed. “In any event, I hope they can break a gold piece.” He glanced up at Rōkura. “And to answer your question, dear girl, our patron deity happens to be rich.” Smiling, Hans added, “Mmm, very rich.”

Now that Rōkura had eaten again—why was she so hungry all the time?—they could get down to business, Hans thought. “Now,” he said, “as I was saying before, Rōkura—you must go to the Administrator’s personal manor house and find any evidence of what went on at the summit where you were…” he paused. “Where everything happened.”

She nodded, remembering it all. As the images flickered though her mind, a flash of anger took her, but she controlled it—controlled it far better than she could before, and a large part of her was thankful to Ogai-sama for that. But I still need to talk to him about my memories. He took far too many of them.

Eyes brightening and ears listening, Shinjiro narrowed his eyes slightly. Hans had been about to say something regarding the summit, and yet… he had stopped. They don’t trust me yet, but I will remain silent for the time being and keep my wits about me. The goal that Hans had set for Rōkura was not one that didn’t serve Shinjiro’s ends, and for that reason, he would go along.

But the danger of it concerned him. If Rōkura was caught or captured, there was nothing he would be able to do for her. He was a samurai of the province, of Daimyo Hino—he was no official.

“Shinjiro here can help you find the evidence, I think.”

“What?” he asked, surprised. “Me?”

“You are rather concerned with what happened up at the summit, yes? Well, you should find your answers.” His tone was soft and bored. “So it is only logical that you will accompany Rōkura. Are you not a part of our little adventurer’s party now?”

“Well, I…”

“Yes he is!” Rōkura said firmly. “Shinjiro—you are coming with me. We have to get to the bottom of this.”

He sighed heavily. “I am a samurai. I am not accustomed to breaking the law.”

“Didn’t you say the Administrator was corrupt?”

He nodded soberly. “I did. And he is.”

“Well,” Hans said, “then it’s settled.”

“Hmph!” Shinjiro sniffed, his eyes casting a large shadow. “Fine. But no killing anyone!” He pointed a finger at Rōkura’s nose. “Do you understand.”

She nodded.

“While you are there, if you find a red crystal, you are to take it. In fact, you must take it, do you understand Oni-san?”

“All right,” she said, wondering what this red crystal was about. “Where do you think it will be?”

“Oh,” Hans sighed dramatically. “That is a very good question. Perhaps in the basement? Or the roof?” He shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“How are we supposed to search for something in the Administrator’s manor without getting caught?”

“Not to worry,” Hans said with a sly little smile as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I have a feeling it will be easier than you think. Ogai-sama has informed me that Administrator Fujiwarai is having a big party tonight.”

“What about?” Rōkura asked.

“It is to commemorate his appointment to the position,” Shinjiro said.

They looked at him.

“What, I am a samurai in Daimyō—“

Rōkura and Hans interrupted in unison. “Daimyo Hino’s province. We know.”

With an eyebrow raised, Shinjiro took pause, then a smile came to his mouth. “I am useful, yes?”

“Indeed,” Hans said, “and we will continue to see how useful you really are.”

“Hey!” Shinjiro growled, “is that a slight, cat man?”

“Oh gods,” Rōkura complained and touched her forehead. “Now with this again.” And then something struck her quite plainly—something the oni girl had not considered and yet it was obvious. “Hans! You’re a cat—“

“I am not a cat,” he corrected, his finger raised. Despite his denial, his eyes had a feline look to them and his fingernail was decidedly sharp. “I have a transformation ability that allows be to become a cat.”

“What is the difference?” muttered Shinjiro.

“The difference is huge, you lout—but because your trade requires you to swing a sharpened piece of steel, I don’t suppose you would know the difference.”

Growling, Shinjiro glanced at Hans, but said no more.

“Now, what was it you wanted to say, Oni-san?”

“You can transform, Hans! Why don’t you slip into the Administrator’s manor and find the evidence?”

With an eyebrow raised, he said nothing.

“Yeah,” Shinjiro said, piling on like a brawler atop Rōkura’s excited idea. “It makes perfect sense.”

“Now don’t get any funny ideas,” Hans said with a nervous laugh. “I am the supporter—you Rōkura-san, are the real leader of this party.”

“Well I order you to—“

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?” asked Shinjiro. “You can’t tell her no, your deity—or whatever, told you to—“

“This task,” Hans said firmly, “has been appointed to Oni-san. Ogai-sama made an agreement with you to provide to him certain favors, and in return he would deliver the names and the locations of the men and women who—“

He cut a glance at Shinjiro.

The samurai could take no more. “NOW THAT’S IT!” he snapped, slamming his fist onto the table. It broke in half and the plates and beer fell through to the floor. Everyone flinched and Hans actually yowled, jumping high enough to land atop his chair in a crouching position.

With wide eyes, Rōkura pushed her chair back, startled at Shinjiro’s ferocity.

“I am sorry,” he said, putting out a hand. “I do not know what came over me—but you two are hiding something from me, and I want to know what it is! I’m part of this party, you said so yourself, Rōkura.”

Swallowing, she glanced toward Hans, who shook his head so minutely, that she wasn’t certain he had even done it. But of course he would tell her not to bring Shinjiro in on whatever they were doing.

He’s going to find out anyway. Better that he knows now instead of being slapped with it later. She sighed. “Fine,” Rōkura said. “You are right, I’m not from this world.”

“Rōkura!” Hans chastised.

“No—he needs to know.”

“Hmph.”

“I was killed up on that summit.”

Shinjiro looked at her for a long time. “Eh?”

“She is telling the truth,” Hans echoed. “She was indeed killed on that summit, sacrificed in a dark ritual to the god Hokorash—she and her parents.”

Rōkura swallowed thickly. “When I awoke, Ogai-sama told me he could send me back to get my revenge and live another life, as long as I do tasks for him.”

Shinjiro looked at them both, his eyes sliding dangerously between them, then back again. Then his eyebrows rose so high, had he had bangs of any kind they would have been lost underneath.

“BwaaaAAHHHahahahahaha!”

“It’s the truth!” Rōkura spat.

“Right!” Shinjiro said, “and my grandmother is a yellow-eyed wolf.”

Hans sighed extensively. “Whatever—believe what you want. I will try no more to convince a simple minded swinger of steel.”

“Hey—shut up, cat.” He turned to Rōkura. “Fine, I will not argue with you. If you will not tell me the truth, I will find out myself.”

The oni isekai wanted him to believe her. She wanted to tell him every detail, take him back up to the summit if she had to, but… she sighed, shrugging. I want to do Ogai’s errand so I can kill the first person responsible.

“Easy,” Shinjiro said, putting up a warding hand. “I’m sorry about the table.”

Rōkura blinked. “I am not angry with you. I’m angry with them.”

He nodded, his expression sympathetic. “The people who killed you and your parents.”

She could tell he still didn’t believe her, but it didn’t matter. He would soon find out the truth. At that time, he would sink through the floor with anger and embarrassment, probably. If that is the way it has to be, then fine.

“Now,” Hans said. “There is another matter we must take care of.”

“Hmm?” Rōkura frowned. “What is it?”

Hans eyes crawled up to her breasts. Reaching forward, he took the hems of her cloak in his hands, and a slice of fright and embarrassment shot through her stomach as he parted it slightly. “This is… far to conspicuous.”

“What?” she asked, glancing down at her breasts as Shinjiro’s eyebrow went up skeptically.

“Being an oni around these parts is rare enough—“

Rōkura’s heart soared. “There are oni here?!”

Shinjiro blinked, and taking pause at her sudden outburst, Hans said, “Indeed there are.”

She couldn’t believe it! A smile came to Rōkura’s face. So she wasn’t totally alone after all. Wondering how long it would be before she met some of them, he realized that she wasn’t in fact, alone. Now she had Hans and Shinjiro.

But for how long?

“In any event,” Hans said, “we should get you something to wear. This disaster will not do.”

“I like it,” Rōkura said.

“Nani?” Shinjiro asked in surprise.

Sighing heavily, Hans supported his elbow at his waist with his other hand as he supported his chin. “I have other things to attend to for Ogai-sama while you handle your task—and your clothes. We will meet back here tonight after you have completed your task. By then… I am certain Ogai-sama will have given me leave to reveal one of your killers.”

“All right,” Rōkura said with a nod as shadows cast down over her face. With her luminescent eyes, she glanced over at Shinjiro, a fire in her heart and excitement in her belly. And fear. This is so scary. “Can we go?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“Oh look,” Hans said, glancing out the window. “The rain has stopped—for a time at least. Better be quick, little Oni-san.”

Was she even ready? This all seemed so quick. Like when she was killed, it was almost unreal to her. “But… I thought you might tell me more about my abilities?”

“Huh?” Hans asked. “No need.” He smiled. “I will tell you more when you get back. Remember,” he said reaching up to tap on her forehead, “too much information at once will only confuse you. If you killed Ken-sama, then you are more than ready for this.”

She nodded, deciding to put her trust in Hans. Although if he was anything like their flippant patron deity, then she though that might be a bad idea after all.

“Oh! I forgot,” Hans added. He tapped her on the forehead again and pulled out a luminous drop of magic.

“What are you doing?”

“I am checking your sneak skills And…” he voice fell. “You have none to speak of.”

“I can help her on that regard,” Shinjiro said.

“Oh?” asked Hans curiously. “And what would you know of stealth, Sword Swinger?”

“Enough to keep your sticky paws out of my skill tree, cat.”

“Ha! Touché, my boy!”

“Who are you calling ‘boy’?”

“I will have you know that I am, by far, the oldest in this room.” He said the words with such an air of arrogant assurance that Shinjiro actually let out of subtle gasp of surprise. “Now, Rōkura—about your stealth abilities, or lack therefor. Follow Shinjiro—do what he says, and everything will work out. The arts of deception”—he glanced up at Shinjiro with nothing but his eyes—“can often put a while over on even the most skillful sneak.”

“Hmph,” Shinjiro sniffed with a smile, the expression on his face one Rōkura could not quite make out. It was like they were communicating without words.

“Are you listening?” Hans asked.

“Um—yes.” She nodded. “I will do what you have suggested, supporter.”

“Mm—good. Farewell, little Oni-san.” Rōkura

They went into the market district. Shinjiro knew his way around Momori Kazō perfectly. The awnings covered most of the sky from view, including the rain, but because of the overhanging roofs of the tall structures, including  a massive temple with a bronze bell and gongs, the streets were dark.

Fortunately the way was well lit with lanterns and torches.

“Shinji-san?” Rōkura said.

“Hmm?” he asked, turning as he stood  with his hands on his hips.

“Have you lived here long?”

A smile brightened his face. “All my life. Look, over there is old lady Yami. She’s been making shoes for this city since before I was born—she and her husband own their own shop. And over there is Natso.” He shook his head. “We used to get into so much trouble, one time we—“ Glancing around, he realized Rōkura was missing. “Hm?

Something pulled at his sash and he whirled.

But it was only Rōkura, her sword in hand with a smile on her face. “I will be taking this. Arigatou, Shinjiro.”

“Hey!”

She ran.

“Get back here!”

Moving through the market and dodging customers who stared after her like a celestial rock from another world, she kicked her feet and swerved left, then cut right and went another twenty paces.

She would have been stopped by the fruit seller’s wheel barrow, but she jumped over it, landed smoothly and ran down a darkened alley.

Growling through his teeth, Shinjiro had trouble keeping up with her speed, and the way she cut cut a corner was startling. He ran as fast as he could, almost slamming into Ren’s barrow of fruit.

“Hey! Watch it, Shinjiro!”

“Gomen!”

Once he was passed Ren, he darted across the street and into the dark alleyway where Rōkura had disappeared to, but he picked up his pace, as he could hear her ahead of him while his eyes adjusted to the particularly dark light.

Normally a low level fighter would have to take several more moments for their eyes to adjust, but Shinjiro’s stealth abilities allowed his eyes to adjust far faster in low light, whereupon he caught sight of Rōkura running from him.

“Rōkura!” he called. “Where—where are you going! Agh!”

A cramp took him in the stomach as she approached the dead end, running at a speed far faster than the samurai could sustain.

As he stopped, gasping for air, he watched with wide eyes as the horned girl—the oni girl—lunged up the wall, turned and jumped off and landed in a roll, and as soon as she came back to her feet she pirouetted on her bare feet, drawing her sword during that motion.

Her gleaming blade came up to his throat perfectly and Shinjiro’s eyes widened. “Don’t!—Kill me!”

“Ha!” she laughed, lowering the blade. “I wouldn’t kill you, Shinji. I just want you to know, that I could have taken my sword from you whenever I wanted.”

“Yes, I can”—he gasped for air between words as he rested his palms on his thighs—“can… see that.” Swallowing, he nodded. “All right, you can keep your sword.”

“Thank you.”

He laughed, his cheeks heating a little bit, and at that moment Rōkura realized he was younger than he looked. “We have time before dark. Do you know were the manor is?”

“I sure, do,” he said. “Come on.” He turned. “Let’s find you something to wear.”

Rōkura nodded. “Mm.”

She still felt embarrassed that he had seen her naked, and not just for a moment. She had been stark naked as the day she was born after Ken-sama caught her in the onsen. She wanted to close her eyes and shake her head, but putting it from her mind, she followed Shinjiro.

“Hey, Rōkura.”

“What?”

“Can you see well in the dark?”

She shrugged. “I think so. I haven’t really had trouble.”

“My eyes had to adjust, but for only a moment. I’m mainly a warrior in class, but I considered becoming a ninja before choosing to become a samurai, and during that time I developed some stealth skills.”

“My eyes didn’t need to adjust at all.”

“Then I’m jealous.”

She smiled. “Don’t be. Look over there.” She thrust her chin up.

“What is it?”

“That’s all blurry—and the farther it gets, the worse I can see it.”

“Whoa—are your eyes really that bad?”

She nodded. “They used to be better, but ever since they became…” she touched her cheek with her fingers. “Like this—I have new abilities, but my eyesight is also quite bad.”

He laughed and she frowned. “Rōkura—you need glasses!”

She flinched. “Uh… oh.”

“I think they would fall off my face.”

“Considering how much trouble you seem to get into, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Shinjiro laughed aloud as they entered back into the market. “Follow me.”

The samurai took her to many stalls, and Rōkura didn’t like any of the clothing. None of it. Before long she led him on a merry quest to find the right thing to wear as he hunched in on himself, his face long and nearly to tears from sheer boredom.

“Just please hurry up,” he whined.

They came to another shop selling swords and bangles. There were trophies on the back shelves, and the seller had big arms, though he was far too aged to an active adventurer.

That, and he was a foreigner. “Hello!” he said brightly. “Can I interest you in any of my wares?”

Rōkura glanced down at the big swords and shields, and even Shinjiro brightened, but despite that he said, “Rōkura, let’s not lose track of why we came here.”

“I won’t,” she promised.

“What is it you’re looking for?” the man asked gruffly, though his countenance was friendly.

“Umm… Rōkura” said musingly as she caught sight of the many outfits in the back. Something about them called to her.

“Sorry,” Shinjiro said. “My friend is in the market for clothes, not weapons.”

“Oh,” the seller said with a nod.

As Shinjiro turned to corral her along, she stopped. “Wait.” She pointed. “What are those?”

“Eh?” the seller said, turning. “Oh, those are battledress raiments.” She shook his head. “I’m afraid you wouldn’t find them very comfortable.”

“He’s right,” Shinjiro said.

“I want to try that one on,” Rōkura said, pointing to a dark-colored one that looked like it was made from smoothed leather.

“Uh… that one?”

“Mm.”

“All right, come on in,” the seller said, beckoning them into his stall.

“Rōkura…” Shinjiro said, her name stretched pleadingly. “We’ve been in the market for hours.”

The shop seller took it down. “And the boots are—“

“I don’t want boots. I prefer to travel barefoot.”

“Uh—all right. Suit yourself. You can change into it back there.”

She nodded and stalked into the changing area where she unbuckled her sword and lifted off her tattered cloak, then she set her straw hat on a hook. The battledress raiment was indeed made from a stretchy leather, smooth to the touch, and yet strong.

The oni girl pulled on it, realizing how strong it was. She liked that. She slipped the bottom on, realizing that the material seemed to conform to her shape perfectly. The top took little effort as well, but the back needed to be tied with a string that interlaced within a series of steel ringlets.

“Shinjiro,” she called.

Making a face as he poked at an off-looking vestment, he bent up straight. “Hai?”

“Can you come in here please?”

Frowning, he said, “Nani?” Why did she want him in there with her? She doesn’t think just because I saw her naked before that I can just—

“I need your help.”

“Um… all right.” He prepared himself. As he drew aside the curtain, he prepared himself, and feeling self-conscious, he kept his eyes high, which were level with the tips of her horns, which, now that he thought about it, were quite—

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Huh? Oh—sorry. What is it?”

“The back?” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “I need you to tie it for me, please.”

“Oh, right!” Glancing down, he saw what he needed to do, and tightening the corset, he tied the string, then lifted his hands away. “All done.”

Turning, she came out of the dressing closed as Shinjiro backed away. “Well?” she asked, wondering what he thought. I like it—but I hope he doesn’t hate it.

His eyes widened.

“Oh… what’s wrong?” she asked. He hated it.

The form-fitting leather hugged her so well, that—now that Rōkura was dressed, he could look at her without forcing himself to turn his gaze away, and it was only now that he realized how shapely the girl was.

With a thin waste and strong thighs, he thought her athletic and attractive all at once. And the battledress top pushed up her big—

He glanced away in embarrassment. Rōkura lifted her eyebrows in confusion, when she realized why he had looked away. Her own cheeks heated then as she waited for him to recompose himself.

Shinjiro looked at her and nodded. “It is good!”

She smiled. “Really?”

“Perfect.”

“Oh!” she shop keeper said. “Very nice. It is perfect—and you a swordsman! Er.. a swordswoman!”

She nodded. “Mm.”

The shop keeper’s eyes lingered on her horns, and he actually reached out to touch them when Shinjiro slapped his hand away. Rōkura gasped.

“Do not touch her horns,” he said. “You will make them fall off.”

“Ah!” the shop keeper said with high brows and a raising of his chin as he and Shinjiro nodded to each other conspiratorially.

Rōkura almost rolled her eyes, but she realized he had just saved her the trouble having to explain her red-pink skin and her horns.

“Well,” the shop keeper said, spreading his hands. “This battledress is called the Mizu. The leather comes from an exotic salamander from the mountain rivers of Ōjasu.”

“Are they dangerous?” Rōkura asked.

“Are they dangerous?” the shop keeper repeated loudly. “They’re deadly, and the leather is soft, pliable. It won’t raise your armor rating, so you’ll be able to move without hampering your agility, and it even provides a buff to your dexterity! The Mizu is a very natural armor that gives even a razor’s edge trouble. Hmph!” He nodded proudly. “Go on, move about.”

She did, lifting her arms and legs about as a smile came to her face. “I don’t know what all that means, but I like it.”

“Does it constrict your movements?”

She gasped, realizing that it didn’t—not in the least. In fact, she could move as well as she had when she was naked. Rōkura shook her head. “No!”

“Exactly!” the ship owner said, pointing an aggressive finger down at her.

With a smile and a heady rush of excitement, Rōkura knew that this was what she wanted to buy. Because the leather bottom was so short-cut, traveling down her thighs only the span of just two or three fingers, she would remain cool in the summer.

Her shoulders and arms were also completely exposed. She saw a mirror and looked at herself—saw her breasts and how the corset design pushed them up. They were already big, but now they truly drew the eye, and yet the corset kept them firmly tucked against her so they wouldn’t cause any problems. Rōkura nodded, touched the rim of her exposed skin near her waist.

“Sleek!” the shop keeper said. “Excellent for hot environments, and designed for swimming. With the Mizu you can cut through the water like a fish.”

Shinjiro nodded appreciatively though he raised one objective. “Perhaps it’s a little… too sleek. Maybe something… well, more?”

“No,” Rōkura said. “Buy it.”

“Excellent!” the shop keeper cried as she turned around and went back into the dressing closet. “Only five-thousand Imperial Marks!”

Was that a lot? She picked up her cloak and slipped it on over her new battledress raiment as Shinjiro choked and spluttered. “I want it,” she said firmly.

Shinjiro glanced at her, then back to the shop keeper. “Now listen here, friend,” he said with a weak smile. “Five-thousand Imperial Marks—it’s a high sum for…”

He crossed his thick arms, his smile dropping. “Five-thousand, and not one Mark less.” Then his stern face changed and he smiled broadly, putting a gentle arm behind Rōkura. “Except for your sake, young lady. I will lessen the price by… twenty-five Imperial Gold Marks.”

“GOLD?” shouted Shinjiro. “GOLD MARKS?! I THOUGHT YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT SILVER!” His face reddened. “Rōkura—I don’t have the coin you need for this. I can’t believe something so high-prices even exists in the Momori Kazō markets—who could pay for it?”

“The Administrator could!” the shop keeper said, raising a finger.

“Hey—stay out of this.” He turned to Rōkura. “We can’t afford this. I’m sorry.”

As her spirits fell, a familiar voice appeared from behind the corner at the front of the ship. “Well hello, there.”

Eyes brightening, Rōkura said, “Hans?” She stepped out. “Hans, is that you?”

“Why, of course it is, Rōkura-san. I finished with my tasks a little earlier than I expected and I thought I would pop in to see how you were doing. I suspected you would still be here.” He looked her up and down. “My, my, Oni-san—don’t you look dangerous in that.”

“Hmph!” she sniffed with bemusement.

“But isn’t the tattered old cloak a bit of a contrast with your fine new clothes?”

“A disguise,” she offered, saying no more.

“Ah,” Hans said, raising his chin.

“Hans,” Shinjiro said, “we can’t buy this. This man wants almost five-thousand Imperial Gold—Gold—Marks for this.” He gestured to Rōkura, who buckled her belt around her waist under the cloak.”

The samurai reached over her horned head and helped Rōkura put on her straw hat.

“Well fine,” Hans said, his nasal voice somewhat bored. “A little more than I thought, but you can spare no expense with quality—it is Mizu leather after all. It’s strong—Shinjiro, my boy, are you quite all right? If your jaw sings any lower I fear I will be quite concerned with the structural integrity of your face…”

The samurai felt… he felt… dizzy. The sheer sum of gold that Hans revealed inside his purse was… they just kept coming… out of… Where are all those gold coins coming from?!

“There,” Hans said. “I believe that’s five-thousand there.”

With wide eyes and a heady rush of excitement, Rōkura watched as Hans bought her the Mizu leather battledress.

“Oh, but I knocked off twenty-five Marks for our young lady,” the shop seller said with an endearing smile.

“Ah—keep it friend. A tip, for such fine—“

“YOU’RE TIPPING HIM TWENTY-FIVE IMPERIAL GOLD MARKS?!”

Hans turned with a slightly incredulous smile and glanced up at Shinjiro over his shoulder. “Quite so.” He waved a hand. “Why not you tell the whole market while you are about it?”

“Hans!” he hissed quietly. “Most of these people don’t make that during their whole lives!”

“Oh, don’t let it bother you,” Hans said affably. “The benefits of a patron deity are vast indeed.” Haha—and the coffers.

“What do you think about this, Rōkura?”

Still feeling heady and high. If she had died and come back—if she was to do chores for Ogai-sama, then why not do so in high style? Rōkura shrugged, unable to keep the huge smile off her face.

“Oh,” moaned Shinjiro as he put a hand to his forehead, “this is ludicrous…”

Hans laughed.

Taking pause, Hans lowered himself onto the sand upon the sand dune that overlooked the manor house of Administrator Fujiwarai. As the dampness in the sand would no doubt stain his trousers, he hoped they did not have to lay here for very long. “I suppose it can’t be helped.”

Behind them to their right the waves crashed against the white-sand beach with regularly rhythm. The tide was in, and the beach was deserted, for the most part.

Rōkura glanced over at Hans where Shinjiro already lay on the other side of him. She looked back at the manor nestled at the top of the dune. Tall grass and reeds obscured them, giving the party excellent cover. There was a road in front of them leading alongside the manner and a tall vine-covered wall separating the house grounds from the surrounding land. “It’s smaller than I thought it would be.”

In the distance, structures with tiled roofs and upturned corners flecked the hills and the landscape, their lanterns and torches providing lights in the early evening hours as a purple-grey hue had set upon the sky.

“Smaller?” Hans said. “His house is quite large. Remember, it is a ‘manor’ house, not a palace.”

She nodded. “Mm.”

Squinting, she tried to get a better view of the place, but from this distance it was hard. Even with her bad eyes, she could make out the sounds of stringed instruments and drums, the laughing and the mingling of the many guests.

“The lanterns are beautiful,” she said.

“So is the house and the grounds,” muttered Shinjiro, “though I doubt what we find inside will be half so bright and beautiful. Appearances are everything to these people.”

“Hmmm,” Hans hummed musingly. “Rōkura-san, can you reach into my satchel and bring out my spyglass?”

She did as he asked and handed it to him. He looked for a time. “What do you see?” asked Shinjiro.

“Well…” mused Hans, “there are a lot people in the grounds. It will be difficult to get into the house.”

“Should that not be easy?” he asked. “With so many guests, they are surely to provide a lot of distractions for the guards.”

“Indeed,” Hans said, glancing at Rōkura and eyeing her horns.

“Nani?” she asked.

The small man shook his head. “I am wonder how this is going to play out.”

“Badly,” Shinjiro said.

That, Rōkura decided, was rather negative. But even if it ended battle—ended in a fight, she didn’t care. She only wanted to get what she needed, get out of there, and then find the men responsible for her murder.

“Can we not just break through the front doors?”

“Ha!” Shinjiro sniffed. “You might be good in a fight, Rōkura—but even you can’t take that many guards.”

“There is sure to be high level opponents in there as well,” said Hans. “Best to avoid combat for the time being.”

Nodding, Rōkura hid the truth. She wanted to go in there and trash everything. If those men were as corrupt as Shinjiro said they were—why should they care what consequences they bear down upon themselves?

“I am also concerned about your Persistent Bad Luck,” Hans said.

“Is that…” Shinjiro asked. “She has a stat called Persistent Bad Luck?”

She couldn’t help but frown and flare her nostrils as Shinjiro nearly crossed his eyes thinking about such a monumentally bad state.

“Now, now,” Hans said. “Do not laugh, steel swinger—our lord Ogai has faith in the child—and she is much more powerful than you think she is.”

“I saw her fight.”

“No you didn’t.”

Rōkura smiled as she listened to Hans defend her. And what he said was true. Shinjiro had not seen her fight—not really. Rōkura was powerful, when she used her Oni Rage ability.

It frightened her, even now. If she used it here, no doubt there would be many bodies left behind in her rampage. Bodies of some people who did not deserve to die, surely? Even if the Administrator was corrupt, that didn’t mean he had to die, and it certainly didn’t mean that Rōkura wanted to kill him.

The men that had killed her and her parents were different.

They were killer—murderers. But even so, her anger against them was personal. She wanted to smash them into the ground, into pulp—food for the grass.

Something came to the surface of her mind, like a thought, racing and insistent, and yet… she couldn’t remember. She tried, but for the life of her, she could not—

“Are you distracted, Oni-san?”

“Mm—no! I’m listening, Hans.”

“Good. Now, it’s not quite dark yet. I see a good pathway into the ground without going through the front gate.” The front gate was high and the road was lit with lanterns. At the entrance two guards stood with pikes held erect with white and black tabards.

“Where?” asked Shinjiro.

Hans lowered the spyglass and pointed, handed the device to the swordsman. “Do you see the quay?”

“Mm.”

“It’s quite extensive.” He turned to Rōkura. “You can swim, right?”

Rōkura almost felt indignant. “Of course I can swim. I did buy a Mizu leather battledress for water.”

He smiled slyly, his demeanor one that seemed to assume he knew more than he was telling. “Yes, indeed. So you two can swim into the ground. Easy enough, right?”

“Hai,” Shinjiro nodded.

“How are we going to avoid being spotted?”

“Oh, please,” Hans said. “Look there. Here, pass me the spyglass, Sword Swinger.”

“My name is Shinjiro.”

“Yes it is.” Hans gave her the spyglass. “The other side of the quay. There are out buildings and a nice thick hedge separating the gardens.”

She put the spyglass to her eye and looked. He was right, and since this part of Momori Kazō was on the coast, they could easy swim up from the sea. They would never expect it.

As he looked through the spyglass, Rōkura realized how extensive the grounds truly were. There were many hedges of thick dark trees, lanterns, fountains and pagodas.

The house itself was a multi-winged structure of three stories, and what looked to be like a basement? The stone base with the windows near the grass told her that much.

“Now listen to me, Rōkura,” said Hans, and she noted the severity of his tone, hidden, but present.

“All right.”

“Your Celestial Eyes—have you had experience with that ability?”

“Mm.”

“Then that means you can use it to see the future path of an individual.”

She gasped. “I can?”

“She can?” asked Shinjiro with wide eyes.

“Yes,” said Hans.

“I thought I could only see things that have already happened.”

With a shrug, Hans said, “Normally that is true, but if you concentrate and actively use your ability, you can see the path of an individual. But this is not fool proof. The thought of a person happens often before they take an action.”

“So,” Shinjiro said. “If a guard on patrol has thought out his path, Rōkura should be able to see it?”

Hans cut a look at Shinjiro on is other side. “If she concentrates”—he turned back to her—“yes.”

“All right,” she said. “I can do it.”

“Heh,” he sniffed with bemusement. I am glad she is confident. What neither the samurai nor the oni saw in his bemused sniff was that he doubted she could pull it off. “But remember, thought out actions can be changed on a whim, and what one knows by rote may not necessarily require premeditated thought.”

“I understand.”

“Now let’s get off the grass. I am ruining my trousers.”

Shinjiro smiled, feeling a subtle satisfaction at the arrogant little man’s plight. At five-thousand Imperial Marks for Rōkura’s armor, he wondered how much—Hans’ trousers cost him. Was his name Bellefu? Bellefay?

Whatever.

When night was fully upon them, the trio stalked out of the dunes and to the water’s edge. Rōkura took off her hat and let it fall to the sand, then she lifted her tattered cloak she had picked up off a dead man from her shoulders.

“Your Mizu battledress could not be better suited to this task,” Hans said. “It makes one wonder if you are holding back your stated knowledge of your abilities.”

She smiled at his playful tease.

“I feel I should come with you,” he said.

Rōkura shook her head. “You said it yourself. This is my task to perform for Ogai-sama.”

“Yes,” he said, taking a step toward her. “But I am your supporter.”

“We both know that you will take the lead if we both go, Hans.”

He sighed heavily. “Yes—you are probably right.”

“Do not worry, little cat man,” said Shinjiro. “I will watch over her.”

“You better, Steel Swinger.”

Rōkura swallowed hard, but tried to hide her apprehension. With a nod and a return of the same gesture from Hans, she faced the sea and waded out into the cold water. Shinjiro followed, his outer robes taken off, leaving his body clothed in not but a short pair of black trousers cut at the knees and a loose white shirt; his underclothes.

He looked at her. “What?”

Shaking her head, she smiled. Hmph—your turn to parade about naked!

She went farther, then put her hands together and jumped into the water. She kicked with her feet and pulled her body forward, turning her hips and shoulders with every stroke.

Once she was far enough into the water, she stopped and kicked, floating next to Shinjiro. “I do not think I have ever been this far out before.”

“Neither have I,” Rōkura said, feeling a tingle run up her back. The dark water was frightening to her.

“Let’s go.”

“All right.”

Shinjiro lead the way, cutting to their relative west and swimming a good distance before they both stopped for a moment. Shinjiro panted somewhat. “Are you not tired?”

“No.”

He sniffed. “Lead the way, Oni-sama.”

She smiled, and did as he said and swam through the black water. Because of the overcast skies, the moon wasn’t out, which left the night dark and black. Fortunately, actually, since Rōkura’s stealth skills were abysmal.

Shinjiro swam up beside her, cutting through the water quickly. She was surprised he could swim so fast.

“Rōkura!” he shouted from behind.

What?!

She stopped and cut a glance over at the thing swimming next to her. Whatever it was, it was large and had a fin sticking out of its back with spikes, Her eyes widened and she shrieked, kicking back.

“What do we do?!”

“Keep your voice down!”

“It’s turning around!”

“Face it like any other enemy, Rōkura! What if it were one of the men you wanted to kill so badly?”

Even though a thrill of terror roiled in her stomach like an eel and every hair on her body bristled with tingling horror, a flash of anger came over her and she snarled. Allowing herself to sink, she drew her sword from its scabbard as the water was pushed out of the way of the swimming beast coming straight at her.

“I don’t want to fight it!”

“Then swim away!”

She sank, her body sinking as the huge white mass with black eyes shot at her inexorable with a toothy maw of jagged teeth. When her feet hit the sand at the bottom, she pushed up as hard as she could.

Shinjiro kicked, swimming as fast as he could toward shore when Rōkura burst from the water. He gasped as she arced through the air and dove back into the water. When she surfaced, he saw the beast coming back.

“Swim!” he hissed, and turned toward the extended docks. Farther up the wharf he saw the bright lights of the lanterns held by the patrolling guards.

Rōkura swam as fast as she could and with as much speed as she could, and sensing the beast gaining on her, she dove into the water, kicking and swimming and screaming.

When she reached the bottom, the creature came at her with its toothy maw and tentacles. She swung her blade in a wide arc, cutting the tendrils in half. Red blood spread through the water and her eyes widened.

Oh no! If I drink that blood I’m going to kill everyone at the part!

She was more afraid of that happening than she was of being mauled by this beast, especially now since it jerked its big head away and swam away, its back flippers kicking strongly through the dark water as it disappeared.

She used the sand bellow to launch herself up toward the surface. When her face broke the water, she used her momentum as she took hold of the wooden dock with one hand to lift herself out of the water completely.

Rōkura landed on the plans with a solid thump and a splash just as Shinjiro rolled over the side.

“Are you all right?” he asked as he got up.

“I’m… I’m fine.”

Glancing back at her, he studied Rōkura, hearing the terror in her voice. But they were safe from the beast now. “You’re fine,” he said. “Follow me.”

She followed across the docks and paused, crouching behind some crates as a guard walked by. Further on the bright lights of the party and the hanging lanterns filled the grounds of the manor.

A group of people laughed as a stringed instrument was plucked. Something thumped and then a collective “Ohhh” from a group of people went up into the air. Is it a play?

The guard was well away from them. Shinjiro turned, put his finger to his mouth for quiet, then he led the way.

As Rōkura followed, keeping quiet upon her bare feet, just as Shinjiro did, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. That beast came out of nowhere and almost made me go berserk. What if my bad luck strikes again?

The oni could just imagine it now, tearing through the grounds, screaming with red vision, people fleeing, women shrieking, and Rōkura running them down, tearing them to pieces and scattering their body parts across the lawn as she drank their blood like an abominable—

“Rōkura!” hissed Shinjiro. He waved her forward.

She swallowed, glancing back apprehensively as she brought her hand up to cover her mouth, to shield herself from accidentally ingesting any blood.