Shadow of the oni, p.17
Shadow of the Oni, page 17
part #4 of Spirit Hunters Series
An hour later, Yumio lay in her bed, sweating and shaking, but finally asleep. Chiri knelt alongside, her face a mask of absolute concentration as she slowly guided water elementals, air elementals and even a fire elemental through and around the serpent spirit, slowly purifying and healing. It was intensely delicate, draining work. Chiri moved her hands slowly above Yumio, feeling the poisons and damage inside, sending her magics to do what good they could.
Finally, the rat spirit sagged. She looked in gratitude to the swirl of spirits that hung about her, and bowed to them. They caressed her then wheeled up and away, vanishing into the empty air.
Bifuuko and Daitanishi remained at Yumio’s side, carefully watching as she slept. Chiri drew in a deep breath, looking terribly drained. She pulled back her hair, looking up to see her friends quietly waiting at the far side of the room. The rat spirit crossed the room and sat down.
Sura passed her friend some tea.
“How is she?”
Bone tired, Chiri gave a sigh.
“I have done what I can. I have tried to purge her blood of the current dose of poison. But she is extremely weak. She will require long, careful treatment.” The rat drank, then turned to look sadly over at Yumiko. “Clearing out the immediate damage is not the problem. She is going into some sort of withdrawal. The shock may kill her. But the drug will slay her if she continues to consume it. She is at the limit of her endurance.”
Tonbo walked over and carefully covered the sleeping Yumio with her quilt. Bifuuko and Daitanishi seemed satisfied, drifting up and away to land gently upon Chiri’s shoulders.
It seemed best to withdraw and give Yumio some peace. Sura trimmed a lamp to the merest gleam, then ushered everybody quietly outside, sliding the door shut once out in the corridor.
Kuno felt quite dispirited. He looked back towards Yumio’s door.
“So – an addict.” The samurai gave a disappointed sigh. “Yumio san used night lotus to try and make her imagination more vivid.”
Chiri hung her head.
“How sad.”
“Yeah.” Sura could only shrug. “She should have just hung out with us.”
It was high time for some food. The Spirit Hunters trudged back to the tea rooms, and found themselves a dim, quiet nook away from other diners.
For once, Sura had little appetite. She changed into human form, sinking onto a seat. Soup and rice arrived. The fox made Chiri drink an entire bowl of soup, then sat behind her to massage her friend’s shoulders.
“So. The guy in the demon mask is apparently her regular supplier.” The fox gave a frown. “Why a demon mask?”
Kuno glowered.
“Our supplier likes to project a colourful persona.”
Chiri felt downcast – but Sura’s massage was doing some good. She slowly bowed her neck.
“Yumio san is an unlikely candidate if you seek a poisoner. She has troubles enough of her own, poor thing…”
Sura scowled in frustration. “Which leaves us with a blood-sucking murderer, and two writers apparently sucked dry of dreams.”
Tonbo sat back, thoughtfully eating prawns.
“Are we agreed that Kumiko and Nishida are both victims of some sort of attack? If so, then the other writers may yet be targeted.”
Sura wrinkled her nose in thought. “Or they might be responsible…” Sura moved Bifuuko from the back of Chiri’s head, and massaged her friend’s scalp. “Sonada… He’s been acting strangely. I saw him meeting with imperial officials and looking angry.” Sura looked decidedly interested. “What is he up to?”
Something stirred at the back of a darkened booth nearby. Sonada slowly raised himself into view, reaching for a half-empty sakē bottle lying on the table.
“He is up to precisely nothing, honoured exorcist...” Sonada’s voice was filled with bitterness.
“Precisely nothing…”
The great writer was alone. With sword through his belt and the sheath cords all awry, he sat up and carefully poured himself a drink – moving with precision and never once spilling a drop.
“I am up to nothing, because I do nothing.” The man looked at Kuno and Sura over his cup. “I have not written a line worth wasting ink and paper on for ten long years.”
Kuno bowed – respectfully not looking directly at Sonada.
“Please forgive me, Sonada sensei – but you are drunk. Were you in your right senses, you would remember that you are a treasure of the empire.”
“Treasure of the empire!” Sonada gazed at his drink. “An honourable man should be an objective judge of his own worth, Kuno san. The self-editorial process is the one lesson every writer should learn.”
Sonada sighed and pushed his cup aside, leaving the sakē undrunk.
“I lost my soul’s sense of compassion and communion. I began to perceive the wasteland. I have had no higher beauty to inspire me.”
Kuno spoke with firm, almost ferocious reverence.
“You are the greatest writer the empire has ever known!”
Sonada sighed.
“Ah yes. And as a samurai, Kuno san, I sought to excel in the way of both the brush and the sword. I wished to do my duty, to be respected – not as a treasure, but as a man.”
The writer turned his face away into the shadows.
“During the Yamanin war twelve years ago, I commanded an entire castle garrison. As it turned out, many of my students were upon the opposing side. They refused to risk the life of their master. They fired only blunted humming bulb arrows at the walls, and we replied in kind. It was chivalrous – very chivalrous. How could I have risked hurting any of those boys?
“Even then, it did not last. The life of a living cultural treasure is too important risk. Imperial messengers arrived with a direct order from the emperor that I was to be taken from harm’s way. I could not refuse an imperial command. I was led away, ashamed, as the siege began behind me in earnest…
“My second-in-command was not an intelligent man. Although we won the siege, lives were lost that I could have saved…”
Sonada passed a hand across his eyes.
“But I am a cultural treasure…”
Sura leaned back in her seat, nodding in understanding.
“You are a prisoner of your own life’s work.”
The writer gave a tired bow.
“You are correct, Sura san. Even though I have done nothing of worth for ten years, the new emperor keeps the commands enforced. I am forbidden to risk my life in battle. I am forbidden to risk my life in a duel.”
Sonada looked away in shame.
“But if a samurai – an honourable man – cannot defend and protect the woman that he loves, then what is he? How can he bear to face himself…?”
Kuno leaned in, listening carefully.
“Protect whom, Sonada sensei?”
Chiri looked at Sonada with gentle pink eyes.
“You love Yumio san. It was you who gave her the poem.”
Sonada hung his head, hands clenched.
“She has spurned me. But in honour, I cannot allow him to destroy her.” Sonada banged a fist against the table.
“I am convinced of it! Nishida has been supplying her with night lotus drug. I have no proof – but I know it to be true! I have asked for permission to duel Nishida. The emperor himself has forbidden me to act.”
Kuno formally settled his swords and turned to respectfully face Nishida. He gave a stiff, military bow.
“Forgive my impertinence, Sonada sensei – but what has formed your conviction that Nishida is to blame?”
Sonada breathed steadily, trying to throw off the effects of strong drink. He closed his eyes and forced himself to remember.
“Three nights ago, I saw Yumio san meeting with a masked figure in an alley. Yumio seemed to be pleading for a package.” Sonada’s face was grim: clearly he knew what has been inside the package. The man shook his head in distaste at the memory. “They argued. Yumio san seemed to have insufficient money to purchase the package. Demon mask refused her. She implored…”
Sonada halted. He sighed.
“He gave her one small dose. She wept as she swallowed it. He left her and moved into the darkness.
“I waited until she had gone, then ran to confront the man. When I turned the corner, I collided with Nishida. Nishida carried a bag that held a nōh costume and mask. A demon mask!”
Kuno stiffened.
“Did Nishida speak to you?”
“I noticed the mask only as he turned to go. When I tried to confront him, he scorned me and walked away.”
Sura stood, settling her kodachi in her belt. The fox’s face was grim.
“Where is Nishida? Check his room.”
The Spirit Hunters rose to their feet. Sura and Tonbo surged to the fore, heading out of the tea rooms. Kuno and Chiri came behind, accompanying Sonada as they made their way towards the guest rooms.
Sura sped forward with her usual stealth. She waited outside Nishida’s room until the others caught up, then threw open the door, speeding inside with kodachi drawn. Tonbo thundered in behind her, with Bifuuko and Daitanishi flitting in from above. But the room was dark and empty. The bed had been laid out, but the quilt was gone. An uneaten meal of soup and rice sat by one wall.
The window was open. As Sonada, Kuno and Chiri came into the room, Kuno jerked his chin towards the windowsill. Chiri nodded and softly stole over to the window. She peered carefully down the wall outside, but could see nothing moving in the dark.
Chiri heard a noise overhead. She turned around and craned to see. The roof had a spread of tiles just beneath the window. The rat spirit climbed outside and walked cautiously along the tiles. Bifuuko and Daitanishi were immediately beside her, hovering close and making sure all was well.
The rat moved on soft feet, creeping around to the edge of a wall. With elementals by her, she peered carefully about the corner, tilted her head as she saw something strange, then froze.
The rat’s tail stood stiff out behind her in shock. She woodenly made her way back to the window. Blushing bright pink, Chiri climbed carefully back inside.
The rat cleared her throat. She kept her voice in a whisper.
“I ah… I do not think that Nishida san has been out into the streets tonight. He is in the very tender care of Kumiko san.” Chiri beckoned everyone to move away from the window. “They seem very much at peace. They must have been together all night.”
Sura scratched her head and peered over at the window. “Eh?”
Chiri coughed.
“They are… You know…” The rat suddenly had the hiccups. “Oh dear!”
Sura blinked, as the light dawned.
“Ooh… Wow. On the roof? All night?”
She looked out the window and blinked.
“That must be hell on the tiles.”
Sura tried to crane her head out to look closer, but Chiri firmly led the fox away.
Moving everyone over to the far side of the room, the rat spirit nodded softly in the gloom.
“Kumiko san and Nishida san seem good for one another. Perhaps it is the best cure after all.”
Which left still more questions. Sura paced, long tail swishing. She cocked an eye at Chiri.
“You’re sure that’s not staged? They’ve been up there for at least an hour?”
Chiri delicately cleared her throat. “That was definitely my impression.”
“So Mr Demon Mask isn’t Nishida or Kumiko...” Sura paused. “But if not Nishida, who is selling drugs? Sonada san – are you certain the drug seller was a man?”
Sonada scowled, sternly shaking off the fumes of alcohol.
“It would be impossible to swear to it, Sura san. The figure wore black clothing and a mask that completely covered their features.”
Kuno nodded.
“The mask. Can you describe it, Sonada sensei?”
“It was a white, painted mask. A typical demon. You can find one in any temple, any costume shop. White, with an open red mouth, red horns and fangs.”
Tonbo turned.
“The one we saw did not have horns.”
Sura scratched at her ear.
“Are they two different people? Or just one?” The fox creased her brows. “Why would he change masks?”
“Horns.” Chiri looked up. “The horned mask broke. He had to use another. The mask I lent to Taijiri san did not have horns.”
Kuno shook his head, feeling puzzled. “Taijiri? A trader in night lotus?” It did not quite make sense. “To what point? He has patrons, his financial needs are met. It cannot merely be for money?”
Sura looked up.
“It’s for something else!” She remembered the terrible lord of the Akaishin clan.
“Power. Night lotus users are being killed and drained of blood!”
Sonada looked horrified. He immediately raced for the door.
“Yumio chan!”
They raced to her room. Sonada threw open the door and lunged inside, but it was clearly too late.
The bed lay slung against one wall and the window shutter had been shattered inwards. There was no sign of Yumio. The Spirit Hunters charged into the room. Tonbo raced to the broken window and looked out.
“There are marks in the mud!”
The room was on the lowest story, just above the shore. Tonbo vaulted outside and dropped onto the mud. Chiri hastened to follow, taking a slower route by shinnying down a pillar. She landed on the dirt, with nothing on her feet but indoor socks.
Chiri had no weapons. Tonbo tossed his dagger, and the rat caught it deftly in one hand. Tonbo pointed to fresh drag marks that led across the mud – marks broad enough to be a person.
Bifuuko and Daitanishi hung close above Chiri, keeping careful watch. The rat spirit ran to the edge of the river, clapped her hands and spread them wide, opening a cloud of sparkling power between her palms.
“Little sisters of the river!
Little dancers, ever bright!
I ask you now to come to me!
Tell me all that’s passed your sight!”
A shimmering creature shaped like a carp made of golden water swirled up out of the river. The water elemental hovered before Chiri, bobbing in agitation, and whispered urgently in her ear.
Sura, Sonada and Kuno clambered through the window and made their way to the shore, watching quietly as Chiri conferred with the elemental. The rat spirit asked a few quiet, gentle questions, and the little elemental turned to point fearfully upstream. Chiri thanked the creature with grave politeness and it vanished back into the river.
Chiri hastened over to the others, pointing back towards the river.
“She says a boat was here only minutes ago but has sped upstream. It stank of blood magic! The elementals were afraid.”
Sonada whirled and started towards the city.
“He’s taken her! We have to search the alleys!”
Sura looked upriver. “No – those bodies washed down from upstream. There’s a boat jetty up by the theatre!” She grabbed her friends and headed for the inn.
“Weapons! Grab your armour. Quickly!” Sura was moving fast. “I’ll get a boat at the island jetty. Get my spear and meet me there!” The fox raced off along the shore. “Hurry!”
Sonada hastened after Kuno and Tonbo.
“We need armour?”
“It’s going to get hitty!” Sura yelled out over her shoulder as she ran.
“Trust me – I’m a fox!”
The fox sped away as the others turned and raced back into the inn, hurtling muddy socks aside as they plunged into their rooms. Tonbo and Kuno seized breastplates and arm guards, with Tonbo taking up his tetsubo. Chiri came sprinting past, carrying her natagama and Sura’s spear. Tonbo shouted to Sonada and threw the man Sura’s breastplate. Chiri and Bifuuko scooped up an armload of sandals as she ran.
They sped through the tea rooms, past astonished maids and visitors, and plunged out into the dark.
Sura had found a boat, stirring a ferryman out of a sakē bar. She stood in the bows, urging the others on as they thundered along the jetty and launched themselves into the rocking boat. The oarsman heaved heroically at the sweep and steered them upstream into darkness.
Kuno, Sonada and Tonbo tugged on armour. Sura took grateful hold of her spear, glad to have the weapon in hand again. She made a test cut – pleased by the whip of the razor-sharp blade through the air.
The boat surged onward, past now-quiet city streets.
On towards the great, dark theatre…
Chapter 5
A long, dark jetty lay just up-stream from the Theatre of Gliding Cranes. The crowds had long gone, and the riverbanks were deserted. The city here was a place of jet black streets and yawning alleyways. The lanterns had guttered out, and the darkened buildings lay wreathed in silence.
A few empty boats were tied to the jetty, bobbing slightly on the current. The Spirit Hunters’ boat approached out of pitch darkness, gliding at the last in silence. Daitanishi flitted ahead to peek at the other boats, looking for ambush, but saw nothing. Sura climbed swiftly onto the boards and flitted forward, dropping into cover behind a pile of eel traps. She scanned the open shoreline and waved the others forward, keeping a careful watch on the streets and alleys ahead.
Tonbo, Chiri and Sonada left the boat and moved quietly forward. Kuno hastened onward, looking down into moored boats as he passed. He knelt beside Sura to whisper, pointing at the boat nearest to the shore.
“There is fresh mud in the bottom of this boat…”
Someone had walked muddy footprints up from the boat and along the wharf. Sura nodded, and Kuno moved past to take cover behind an upturned boat on the shore.
Sonada followed on Tonbo’s heels. He bobbed down beside Sura, and the fox turned to look at him in the dark. A faint shimmer of starlight gave just enough light to see. Sura cocked her head and admired the man’s silhouette. She whispered in admiration.
