The Fox's Quest Page 3

  Jien thought back on his training years. “I never heard of a theft.”

  “It took time before anyone noticed. It was then decided the news should be kept quiet. No sense encouraging rumors.”

  “If that’s so, why were you told? You’re hardly higher ranked than I am.”

  “I was one of a few men chosen to search the premises in case the blade had been hidden somewhere. Because I have familiar spirits, I have far more spiritual energy than any normal person. In theory, I should have felt a pull if I’d wandered close to the sword. But we never found it. The theft was eventually blamed on shinobi. It’s an unsatisfactory explanation.”

  Jien grunted in agreement. “How would outsiders have known of it, when so many who live and train here don’t? One of ours would have had to leak the information. It’s old history though. Why is it important now?”

  “Recent events have me worried it may have been stolen with a goal in mind. Think on it—here is a blade that would make short work of a fox samurai. The smallest wound may prove fatal. Now that the Fox clan has been weakened, consider what a blade master could do with such a weapon. There are those who would seize the chance.”

  “I see your point. While it does disturb me, I don’t understand what you think I can do about it.”

  Aito made a gesture of annoyance. “I was getting to it. I hope my familiars will enable me to track the stolen sword. But I’m not confident I could handle the new wielder if I found him. Backup is essential. I can’t trust the higher-ranked, as one of them may be our thief. I know few of those our age and none well enough to trust them. But you, you’re friendly with the Fox clan. Even after the incident with Akakiba…”

  Jien presumed Aito meant the incident on the battlefield that had earned Akakiba the nickname “Mad Fox” among the other sohei. He didn’t like to dwell on it. The entire thing angered him. He wasn’t used to anger, didn’t know what to do with it.

  “The bond of friendship between the two of you is obvious,” Aito said.

  “Between Aki and I?” Jien couldn’t help it, he laughed and laughed.

  Chapter Four

  Mamoru

  The demon entered through Mamoru’s mouth, which was held open by a metal contraption. It made its way down his throat, caring not at all that its would-be host kicked and screamed. It felt like inhaling smoke, but smoke that writhed like a living thing. It spread from his lungs to the rest of his body, burning its way along veins and nerves.

  His body stopped kicking as he lost control of it. The demon shoved him aside, trapping him into a corner of his own mind. Though it had been eager to enter, it didn’t seem to know what to do with a human body. Mamoru’s limbs now thrashed against the ground and incoherent noises came from his mouth.

  Clan leader Yoshio looked down upon him with an air of disgust. “I was hoping for a minimum of competence. Can you hear me, demon? I give you one day to acquire the basic skills to pass for a human. If you cannot, you will perish with that body.”

  Left alone with the presence in his mind, Mamoru screamed in helpless fear and rage. But his tongue no longer obeyed him and no one could hear him.

  Mamoru woke suddenly, feeling like he was suffocating. He would have called his dream a nightmare, except nightmares weren’t supposed to be real.

  He wished he could rise from bed and go outside for fresh air, but he hadn’t been in control of his own body for months now. He was almost used to it. He could even be considered lucky, since he’d yet to be completely ejected from his body. His resident demon was so afraid of Yoshio’s death threats that it was willing to compromise—the human didn’t fight too hard and the demon didn’t assert itself too strongly.

  It was far from ideal, but it was still better than death.

  Yoshio, known to all as their clan leader and to Mamoru as the demon-possessed man who threatened to kill him if he proved an insufficiently pliable host, gave him the occasional lesson. Oh, the lessons were meant for the demon inside of him rather than for him, but he listened and learned along.

  He—they?—presently knelt on the tatami floor and waited to be addressed. His body kept twitching, proof his resident demon was anxious in Yoshio’s presence.

  “Tell me,” Yoshio said, “how humans usually identify a possessed person and how you can avoid these problems.”

  By now, Mamoru was used to the weirdness of hearing his own voice speak without his input. His demon answered, “Normal humans do not sense demons, but they do notice when a person suddenly seems to forget speech or struggles to show proper facial expressions. Learning to behave like a human is essential to avoid detection.”

  “What of animals?”

  “Dogs and horses are said to shy away from possessed people. They can however be fooled, as what they perceive is more a strangeness in manners than anything else. If they do react strongly, it’s best to act annoyed and blame the animal for the odd behavior. Because dragons are sentient, they’re very difficult to fool and must be avoided.”

  “How can you learn to act appropriately to avoid suspicion?”

  “It is done by obtaining the knowledge from the host’s mind. General human behavior, personal habits, and personality traits can be drawn from the mind. This knowledge enables a demon to respond appropriately to social situations and blend in human society.”

  Yoshio grunted in approval, a reaction so very human that Mamoru would have shuddered at it if his body had been under his control. How could anyone realize what was going on when the demon inside Yoshio was so good at imitating human behavior?

  The lesson wasn’t over.

  “What have you learned from your human’s mind recently?” Yoshio asked.

  “I have been practicing to learn this body’s reflexes as my own. I have also learned what he knows about poisons, such as which one to use for what purpose and how to save myself if I am poisoned.”

  Mamoru had given that information away freely because one of his fears was he—they—might be “disposed of.” Whatever little things he could do to protect his life, he would do.

  “Describe the status of your personal relationships,” Yoshio said.

  “This human has few social connections. I have not detected suspicion in the woman Usagi, although she has sought my company lately. She has also begun to behave in a way meant to be sexually provocative. The human’s mind tells me this behavior is to be expected with her and I should not attempt to reciprocate. Violence may ensue if I do.”

  Watching his demon grow confused and flustered around Usagi was always fun. It was one of his few entertainments, as a prisoner inside himself.

  Yoshio smiled. His smile stretched and emphasized the scar on his cheek, a scar left by the wound that had enabled the demon to sneak in and take over. “Ah, yes, women. You will learn much about the interactions of men and women, and yet you will remain confused. Such is the nature of human mating processes; they mystify even humans. I suggest you avoid engaging in reproductive behavior at this time.”

  “Understood.”

  “You may go. I have much to attend to today. You will, of course, inform me if you have any further problems with your host.”

  Mamoru was aware of his body going tense, betraying his demon’s worry, even as his voice said, “Understood.”

  “Learn from him quickly so you may destroy him. It’ll be roomier in there when you do.”

  Mamoru curled up in a tiny ball of existence in an attempt to hide from Yoshio’s knowing gaze. He didn’t want to be found, or to be destroyed. His current life wasn’t so bad as to make death preferable.

  “Wait.” Yoshio went to the next room over and started pulling a futon out. “A last task for you today. Stand guard. Tell everyone I am exhausted and require rest. Do not let any of them attempt to wake me. I will return shortly.”

  Yoshi
o lay down as if to sleep. Mamoru didn’t see it happen, but he somehow understood the demon had just…left. Yoshio’s body had taken on an eerie stillness that spoke of emptiness.

  The human Yoshio was really gone, then, killed. His body remained, a shell for a demon that went in and out at will.

  Mamoru and his demon shuddered together. It was creepy.

  We could slit his throat, Mamoru suggested.

  Like that wouldn’t get us in trouble with the rest of the clan. That’s just a convenient shell, to him. He’d take somebody else’s body and come after us.

  True…

  A long time passed, enough so that hunger gnawed at their shared belly, but neither would have suggested they leave without permission.

  Finally, the abandoned body jerked and its eyes opened. “All seems well,” Yoshio said. He gestured sharply. “Go away. I have work to do.”

  The demon riding his body sent it—them—back toward Mamoru’s room, where it usually hid from the other humans while practicing such things as reading, writing, and exercising. This demon had a different temperament than the one that possessed Yoshio, and Mamoru was glad of it. He had no doubt Yoshio’s demon had invaded his host’s mind all the time, squeezing out his every last crumb of knowledge before getting rid of him. His demon, at least, mostly left him alone.

  The room wasn’t empty. Mamoru detected the sounds first, and sent a general wave of alarm at the demon sharing his brain. The demon stilled and listened a moment before calling out, “Who’s there?”

  The door slid open, revealing Usagi and her perfect upswept hairdo. She’d taken the loss of Nagato hard, but she’d eventually returned to her habit of presenting herself at her best at all times. Her best grew better by the day, as her body put the finishing touches on her transformation into a woman.

  “I need to talk to you,” Usagi said, shifting aside to let him in.

  The demon spoke warily, an attitude of which Mamoru approved. “Talk? What about?”

  They knelt face to face on the tatami floor, the demon trying its best not to stare too overtly at Usagi. Mamoru was aware, and amused, that his demon had recently begun discovering the involuntary part of human sexuality, the part that could make a man’s body react to a woman’s whether he liked her or not. Having been trained in such arts, Usagi was skilled at inciting desire.

  It was in the way her chest rose high when she breathed—she shouldn’t have needed to breathe so deeply while sitting down; in the way her kosode might slip from her shoulder to show creamy flesh; in the way she lifted captivating eyes to his. When she tilted her head to the side, the eye was drawn to the curve of her neck and the mind imagined nuzzling it to better capture her scent.

  Perhaps it was because they were both experiencing a similar feeling of attraction toward Usagi that their minds—human and demon—suddenly tried to meld. For a brief moment, Mamoru saw Usagi as the demon did, as a mysterious being of troubling beauty that evoked both fear and fascination and stirred desires unknown and forbidden.

  They both recoiled from this sudden intimacy, ending it. Mamoru was left with the startling insight the demon wasn’t merely experiencing physical attraction, but falling in love—or as close to it as to make no difference.

  The poor guy—thing?—had no idea. Falling in love with Usagi was like becoming enamored of a bear. It couldn’t end well.

  “I’m leaving soon,” Usagi said. She was obviously too self-centered to have noticed anything amiss. “My mission is to infiltrate the Imperial Palace. You know what that means.”

  “Oh.” The demon began to riffle through its host’s mind, trying to understand the context.

  Irritated by this rudeness, Mamoru shoved the demon back. It retreated like a kicked puppy. For a supposedly evil creature, it was strangely shy and averse to confrontations.

  When their minds were in close contact, it was easy to send thoughts through the thin barrier separating human mind and demon mind. Mamoru thought at the demon, Women shinobi are long-term spies. They spend years pretending to be someone they’re not and not seeing their own. Usagi may never return here.

  Consternation filtered through the barrier. “Do you have to go?” Not-Mamoru asked Usagi.

  “Don’t be an idiot. It’s my job.”

  “I could go with you.”

  “They wouldn’t allow it. Yoshio’s taken an interest in you, hasn’t he? He kept you in isolation for months and now you have personal lessons with him. He must mean to assign special missions to you.”

  That was not a cheerful thought. The demon sighed, stewing in misery so intense it filtered through the barrier.

  “Thank you for caring,” Usagi said. She picked at her clothing, eyes looking everywhere but at him. “I wasn’t nice to anyone because I didn’t want it to hurt too badly when I had to leave, but it hurts anyway.”

  The demon poked at Mamoru’s mind with a request for “long-distance communication methods.” He supplied it with the concept of mail.

  “Write to me,” the demon said.

  “If I can.”

  “If you write asking me to come, I will. Even if Yoshio won’t allow it.”

  Usagi looked up, wide-eyed. “Truly?”

  The demon nodded jerkily.

  Usagi leaned forward and left a butterfly kiss on their lips, a kiss Mamoru felt as vividly as his demon. She rose and left hastily, as if embarrassed by her unusual behavior.

  Feeling the blush rise to his body’s cheeks, Mamoru could only do the equivalent of groaning mentally. The demon had it bad. It was no use trying to tell it Usagi was probably acting, encouraging a doomed crush to amuse herself. That made more sense than thinking she’d suddenly become nice!

  Chapter Five

  Akakiba

  The days on the road were each the mirror image of the last, consisting largely of sleeping, eating, and riding. Summer had long gone and with it, the oppressive heat. The current autumn weather was mild and refreshing. The first fallen leaves of the season spotted the path and the trees were adorned with hues of red, orange, yellow—and green, too. It was yet early and some trees took their time.

  “I hear water,” Akakiba said. “We’ll rest when we find it.” He led them onward, following his ear.

  The source turned out to be a rivulet, only deep enough to come up to the ankle. It was good enough to refill their water bags.

  Yuki’s pet dragon muttered an indistinct complaint about the size of the stream—the annoying creature was welcome to find its own stream next time—before wading in and rolling around. The crystal clear water turned disgustingly muddy after this treatment.

  “Better?” Yuki inquired.

  “Less itchy,” the dragon said. “But now I’m covered in mud.”

  “Don’t move; I’ll rinse you.”

  By the time Yuki was done, Akakiba had had time to attend to certain bodily functions, feed the horses, and finish his own meal.

  “I’m glad it’s not summer anymore,” Yuki said between two mouthfuls of food. “It was horrible.”

  Akakiba fully agreed. At the worst of the summer heat, the dragon’s hide had been dull and cracked, and its mood so irritated it poisoned Yuki’s too. It was good to be past that, because he had no desire to experience a second shouting match. He hadn’t known sweet-tempered Yuki was capable of fighting with anyone, even less with him! He couldn’t quite recall what it’d been about, but it had entirely been the dragon’s fault. One could hope the annoying creature’s growth would soon force it to leave land and find a nice lake to call its own. Mature great dragons were simply too heavy to live on land.

  The weather held fair as they rode eastward and watched for the signs of dying life described by the Sanae impersonator. So far, the trees all had vibrantly colored leaves and the wildlife was no scarcer than usual, singin
g and chattering and scurrying.

  Glancing up at the sun, Akakiba tried to determine how far they might have strayed off course by following this trail instead of cutting through the forest in a straight line. Riding in the tangled undergrowth surrounding the trail would be harder riding than he liked. His expertise was roughly limited to the basics of not falling off the horse.

  “We should have begun to see some evidence by now,” he said.

  “Hm?” Yuki blinked as if coming out of a daydream. He must have been absorbed in a mental exchange with the dragon again. “I’m sorry? What did you say?”

  “Do pay attention when people speak, would you?” Akakiba straightened in the saddle, facing forward so his scowl wouldn’t be visible. He tried to be patient—that cursed dragon had to leave sooner or later!—but repeating himself constantly was irritating. “I said I don’t see any sign of sickness.”

  Yuki studied the forest left and right. “I have to agree. The sparks are present and bright here. But it shouldn’t be much longer before we find the place.”

  “Assuming there’s something to find.”

  Yuki either ignored his words or didn’t hear them—probably “talking” to his pet again.

  By the end of the afternoon, Yuki watched the trees with his head tilted. “I think the sparks are getting a little dimmer.”

  By the time they stopped on a gentle slope for an evening meal and a night’s sleep, Akakiba had begun to believe. Dead or sick trees were in evidence everywhere he looked, covered in black growths that were hard to the touch. It could have been a natural sickness running wild, but it didn’t look right. If the Sanae impersonator had told the truth about this, perhaps it had told the truth about the “mysterious object” as well.

  To find the reason spiritual energy was draining from the world, to find a way to reverse the process… It was the stuff of legends, the kind of quest meant for heroes. He was a fool for allowing himself to dream they might succeed, but it would take a worse fool not to try. The survival of his kind was at stake.