The Fox's God (13 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Yuki

H
e was aware, in a dim way, that he’d been unconscious a while. Waking was difficult, and nauseating. It felt like his organs were jammed in his throat, fighting to get out. Rolling over, he cast a bleary eye on his surroundings. There was white here, and blue there, and something tall above him—a tree. The blue beyond was the sky. He was on his back.

The chest was still in his grasp. His fingers felt at the seams; it hadn’t opened, but there was a crack in the wood, running through some of the glyphs. He was alive, so nothing horrible must have happened. They must have gotten out in time. They? Oh.

“Lady Inari? Can you hear me?”

There was a heap of red, white, and black fur over there. He staggered to her, leaving a trail of unsteady footsteps, and pressed a hand to thick fur. Inari stirred under his touch, making an indistinct noise before subsiding into worrying quiet.

He looked round again, but he could see nothing but wilderness. Living wilderness, for he could hear a bird chirping nearby, but no road or sign of human habitation. They must have come at least halfway south, because there wasn’t any snow and the trees were budding. In a blink, they’d travelled from winter to spring. Chilly spring, but he’d take it.

After tossing the Soul Eater out of it, he turned the containment chest into a fox sickbed by removing a layer of his clothing. Inari did not rouse when he gingerly scooped her up from the ground and laid her in.

The Soul Eater tucked in his belt—it couldn’t be a good idea to leave it lying around—he ventured forth to explore the area and pick up wood to start a fire. The gurgle of running water led him to a clear stream, eliminating thirst from the list of immediate problems. A handful of mushrooms growing at the base of a tree would have to keep hunger at bay.

It took patience to get the fire going with nothing but crude rocks to create the staring spark, but he achieved a timid, flickering fire. He coaxed it along. If they had to spend the night, they would appreciate the heat. He celebrated his achievement by nibbling on toasted mushroom and dribbling water into Inari’s muzzle. He hadn’t expected anything to happen, but she twitched and opened her eyes.

“You’re awake! Are you hurt?”

No.
She sat up, looking over the edge of the containment chest.
Where are we?

“I didn’t explore far enough to find out. This is where we landed. I’m grateful we didn’t come out in the sea; we’d have drowned. You do remember what happened?”

The seals couldn’t hold,
Inari said, studying the crack in the chest from inside of it.
Exiting so quickly was not kind to this body. It is getting old, for its kind.

“Shouldn’t you…set her free, then? To live the rest of her life?”

Inari blinked at him.
You misunderstand. This fox is me.

“Ah, you mean you merged.” It was much better than thinking the fox was a helpless passenger in its own body. In his experience, merging wasn’t painful or traumatic. It hadn’t been bad, being merged with Sanae; they’d called themselves “Kin.” Confusing, but not bad. “I don’t understand how you’re not too big for that body, though. I always heard possession damages bodies overtime. Unless the spirit doing it is weaker.”

Compared to my former self, I’m pathetically small now. Compared to spirits you may have seen before, I may seem to be respectably sized.
But it isn’t all about strength.
In ignorance, it is easy to cause harm to a physical body. The stronger a spirit is, the gentler it has to be. If the spirit has no understanding of this, or if the host is unwilling and fights back, damage ensues. When unity is achieved properly, spirit and host in accord, the spirit’s presence helps and heals the body.

“That explains the Fox clan. They heal very fast.” Kin had healed fast, too.

They have the advantage of having been born as they are. It’s instinctive for them, not learned.

It was impossible to think of Kin without thinking of Sanae. She’d been part of him, once, and now she was dead. Gone. It was difficult to grasp. “We wondered, once, how shifting from human to fox is possible and where clothing and extra mass go. I’m sure Sanae would have asked you, if she’d had the chance.”

Where clothing goes? It doesn’t go anywhere.

“It has to go somewhere; we don’t see it anymore!”

Your minds are too limited to grasp it. Nothing is gone, the extra is merely folded.
Eyes staring at nothing, Inari explained.
It is like when you take a scroll and roll it up. It will seem smaller and you will no longer be able to see the writing upon it, but all of it will still be there. Yes, that is the best way for you to think of it.

“Can you still see the world like a god? Now that you’re…lesser?”

No.
She didn’t sound as if this change of circumstances troubled her, jumping out of the chest and stretching gingerly.
I require sustenance. I will hunt.

Found you!
Akakiba’s triumphant voice said.

“You’re doing it again,” Yuki said, eying Akakiba’s bodiless form. He was too glad to be found to put much heat into his tone, but he did wish Akakiba would develop a stronger sense of self-preservation. “It’s dangerous.”

I’m weakened, not dead. I can go back in my body easily.

Assuming you don’t get eaten by a stronger spirit,
Inari said sharply, as disapproving as a mother.
What is this talk of your weakening?

The clan’s been weakened because of the slow drain on spiritual energy,
Akakiba grudgingly explained.
Some eventually can no longer shift at all.

And why aren’t you strengthening yourselves?

What do you mean?

Foolish children.
Inari said.
By eating other spirits, how else?

Ah. We didn’t know it was an option. And I doubt we would choose it. Killing to eat is well. Killing to protect is well. But we do not prey on others for power.

Then at least spend some time within an energy sink!

Would that cure the problem?

It would take time, if you’ve grown this weak. New energy has to be spun into you, to be digested, to truly be yours. But eventually, yes, your strength and normal powers should return.

That was the best news he’d heard in days. But this wasn’t the time to discuss it. “That’s very interesting,” he interrupted, “but Akakiba should go back. We just need to know which way to go to get unlost.” For Akakiba he clarified, “We can’t travel any other way than on foot because the sword cracked the chest. We exited the spirit realm in a hurry.”

Turning, Akakiba pointed with his muzzle.
The clan house is in that direction. Surprisingly close. There’s a village nearby. Do you have money?

Yuki reached under his clothes, feeling for the string. His fingers found a few coins hung on it. “Enough. But what about the chest? It won’t make travel easy.” He didn’t look forward to dragging it along.

Burn it for warmth tonight,
Akakiba suggested.
It’s useless, but these glyphs shouldn’t be left where they might be found.

There was a grumbling noise from Yuki’s stomach. A handful of mushrooms wasn’t a sufficient meal.

Hunting,
Inari said firmly.
I will bring enough for us both.
She melted into the forest’s shadows.

Akakiba lingered.
You didn’t sustain any injuries?

“None, unless a headache counts. Now go back, before something tries to eat you. Tell everybody we’re fine and coming on foot.”

Be careful with that sword.

“Says the person who couldn’t keep himself from getting bitten by it,” he said wryly. “I may not be as tasty as you, but I’m not taking chances.”

A second bodiless fox arrived, one Yuki didn’t recognize.
Ah, here you are, impatient pup. Go on home to your body; I’ll guide them.

But—

“We’ll be fine. It makes me nervous when you’re outside your body, so
go
.”

Very well. I will be waiting for you.

Perhaps it was absurd to find such simple words warming, but he found them very warm indeed.

Chapter Sixteen

Mamoru

A
s far as spring days went, it was a beautiful, if chilly, one. The sky was deep blue, dotted with fluffy clouds sped along by a vigorous wind. Touches of fresh green were visible here and there, on trees and on the ground. Bird songs rose from every direction, as if they were terribly eager to begin mating season.

Domi and Toshishiro strolled leisurely along the road while Marin prowled ahead. Mamoru and Usagi walked a short distance behind, gaining a measure of privacy by doing so. They hadn’t spoken much so far, but Mamoru had hope he could lure her out of her silence.

“I thought you were angry with me, because of what I told you,” he said tentatively. “But you came to find me.”

Usagi tilted her head, as if considering whether to answer. “I wasn’t angry. I understand secrets are sometimes necessary. I came because I refuse to lose the last of my clan so easily.”

“I’m not really the last. There’s others out there, spread out.”

“I don’t know where they are or how to reach them. You’re all I have, at the moment.”

“You’re all I have, too.” And all he could ever need. “But what about Aunt Marin? How did you find her? How did you get here so fast?”

Usagi quirked a smile, a genuine one that lit her eyes. “Our meeting was a strange coincidence, as if a god were watching over us. I’d say you wouldn’t believe everything that happened, but it might not be unbelievable to you.”

“I was held prisoner in a vase,” Mamoru pointed out. “I’m ready to believe about anything, including divine intervention.” He resettled the load on his back. “We have a long way to walk. Go ahead and confound me.”

“Something’s happened,” Usagi said. “He’s been gone far too long. What can we do?” When “something” happened to
shinobi
, it was usually capture, followed by torture and a high likelihood of death. She’d always known that, but until now it had been an impersonal sort of knowledge. No longer.

Advisor Yoshida looked at Mamoru’s inert body a while longer before closing the door. “I’d kill him if I thought it would help, but I understand the mind can survive without the body. I can only hope he’ll have the sense to die rather than talk. The last thing we need is for the foxes to think we’re planning something against them.” As if suddenly realizing who he was talking to, he added, “He might yet escape. Watch him and let me know if he returns.”

Usagi didn’t seize the nearest vase to bash him upside the head with it. She wanted to, but it was unlikely to improve the situation. She inclined herself instead, the picture of meek obedience. “Of course.”

Inside Mamoru’s room, she dripped water into his mouth and began planning. She couldn’t trust the advisor not to change his mind and kill Mamoru and something about his uncharacteristically angry reaction struck her as strange.

She rose and resettled by the hall, quiet and waiting. She wasn’t surprised when a servant walked past with a scroll in hand. Who was Advisor Yoshida contacting? Not the emperor, or he would have gone in person.

“Excuse me,” she said.

The servant turned to her, expression politely inquisitive. She kissed him, a hand at the back of his neck to keep him from backing away, the other hand slipping into his clothes to drag painfully sharp nails across his chest. The prick of her needles passed unnoticed beneath the sting of her scratching nails.

She pulled him out of the hallway before anyone could see; he hardly resisted. Within moments he was helpless in her arms, paralysis spreading.

She read the message at a glance. It was startlingly written, very poorly done, the
kanji
lopsided and squeezed together.
I cannot guarantee the problematic person’s location at this time. Act accordingly.

In other circumstances, she wouldn’t have known who the problematic person was. But Advisor Yoshida had written this immediately after learning Mamoru was missing from his body. He was up to something and feared Mamoru would discover what it was. Why? Neither she nor Mamoru had loyalty to anyone else inside the Imperial Palace. Unless, perhaps, the emperor? Ah. If Advisor Yoshida were leaking information to other parties, informing the emperor might bring rich rewards. One couldn’t trust
shinobi
not to take the gamble.

She had no solid proof, only her instincts’ work, and she was far more concerned with Mamoru’s safety than potential rewards. Advisor Yoshida might believe Mamoru was only pretending to be in trouble and was instead spying on him. What if he took action against them based on that belief?

This made her plans all the more urgent. After giving the servant on the floor another needle prick and rolling him into the futon cupboard, she set the rest of her plans into motion.

The darkness was a
shinobi
’s ally, providing cover and chasing people indoors. Dressed in clothes stolen from Mamoru’s neutral-colored wardrobe, Usagi hoisted him onto her back—oof, why was he so heavy?—and made her way to the stables. If the guards noticed her, they didn’t come investigate. In the shadows she must have looked like a young man carrying a drunk friend to bed.

At this hour, nobody was in the stables except a boy asleep in the hay; Usagi woke him with a foot in his ribs. “I need a placid horse,” she said. “One with stamina. Hurry!”

The horse was saddled and ready before the boy awakened sufficiently to ask bothersome questions such as whether she were allowed to take a horse. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s badly sick. Help me get him up.”

Between the two of them, they were able to lift Mamoru up on the saddle. Usagi sat behind to hold him up. There would be no galloping, not if she wanted the both of them to stay
on
the horse. She’d had plenty of riding training, but never with an unconscious passenger.

The real challenge would be crafting a story capable of convincing the guards to let her out of the gate.

“Where are you going, Lady Usagi?” one asked. Ah, he knew her; that meant he would be inclined to believe her lies.

“My friend’s been attacked and possessed by a demon. Only a trained exorcist can help him. Surely there will be one in town.”

The guard shuddered. “Are you certain?”

His companion said, “Why not wait here and have someone fetch a monk in the morning?”

She looked at them as if they were dim. “It would have time to escape and seek another body! I had to drug him to stall the problem. Whatever happens cannot happen near the emperor.”

“A lady shouldn’t go alone,” the first guard protested, but not in a way suggesting he wanted to volunteer.

“You may send help to the nearest temple. Oh, I felt him twitch! Let me out before he wakes!”

The guards looked to Mamoru with alarm. Either out of cowardice or ignorance, they let her through. She’d been prepared to needle them unconscious, but this was better, less suspicious. She pushed the horse to a canter until they were out of sight, simulating haste for the guards’ benefit, and then slowed the pace back to a walk. If she meant to travel from Kyoto to Nara in a single day, she must not tire the horse needlessly. She had no food, but a day without wouldn’t kill her. In Nara, the Great Temples would lend her assistance. She’d force them to, if they proved unwilling to help a distraught young lady begging at their gate.

She rode into Nara at dusk that night, fingers stiff and frozen on the reins. She’d stopped but once to take care of bodily functions that wouldn’t wait any longer, giving the horse a moment to graze and both of them a chance to drink frigid river water. She’d wet her sleeve to dribble a little into Mamoru’s mouth. Somehow, Mamoru’s boneless body had stayed draped over the horse. She didn’t know whether she could have lifted him back up if he’d fallen off.

Her throat was parched, her empty belly cramping, her thighs and behind raw from too many hours in the saddle. But she was in Nara.

“Help,” she croaked at a guard. “Where is the Eastern Great Temple?”

The guards eyed Mamoru’s slumped body without comment and pointed down the street. “You’ll know when you get there.”

Many people were yet awake, lights dancing inside and outside of houses to dispel the growing shadows. Usagi wasn’t surprised; people living in cities were much less concerned about being out of doors at night. Even in her
shinobi
clan, people had preferred not to be outside in the dark if possible. They weren’t scared of the night—couldn’t afford to be—but they knew there were risks. People here didn’t seem to think it was a risk at all—they let children run around!

Then again, people in Nara had a good reason not to fear demons; their city hosted more Great Temple
sohei
than any other city in the land.

The temple was, as the guard had said, easy to identify. There were guards at the gate with dragons—the first she’d seen in Nara—and a dozen young monks in the courtyard, training even at this hour. Fires burned here and there, providing flickering light.

Gathering herself, she approached the guards. It would be so easy for them to prove enemies rather than allies… If Mamoru’s explanations were correct, he was half-demon now.

“Do you need help, miss?”

A man with the shaved head and spear of a monk stepped in her way, his plain clothes completely different from those of the other monks in sight. Was he from a different temple? He was looking at Mamoru with interest.

“Are you with the Great Temples?” she hazarded.

“I’m not with any temple, but I have contacts here. What happened to your friend?”

“I believe his mind has been kidnapped,” Usagi said, watching the monk for his reaction. Please, let them be friendly to her cause.

“Ah, that would explain it,” the monk said. “He’s breathing, but he has no aura. Do you know who holds him?”

Encouraged—he believed her!—she spoke as much truth as might help. “I suspect the Fox clan. I thought that if I requested help from the Great Temples, they would pressure them to release him. Surely it is improper to keep people’s minds imprisoned? If they aren’t willing to intercede for him, then I would like for them to take care of his body while I undertake the voyage myself.”

She couldn’t think about how dreadfully long it would take to get there and what the chances were that Mamoru would still be alive when she did.

The odd monk considered the matter. “The Fox clan, eh? Come with me. We’ll see what can be done.” She nudged the horse after him, cradling Mamoru’s body close.

In passing, the man told the guards, “Please let my lady know where I am when she comes.”

“Unnecessary,” a melodious voice said. “I’m here.”

The odd monk turned, his face lit with fondness. “There you are, love. I’ll be a moment; this girl needs help.”

Usagi stared at the woman. She was beautiful, if a little too tanned to be fashionable, and bearing an impossible resemblance to—

“Aunt Marin?”

The woman’s gaze snapped to her, hard and suspicious. “Who—Ah, Umeko’s daughter?”

“Usagi,” she supplied.

A wary look settled upon Marin’s face. “Are you here on clan business? Who’s the unconscious boy?”

“There’s no clan, not anymore. Everybody is scattered. I’m trying to take care of Mamoru.”

“That’s Mamoru? He’s grown!” Marin stepped close, absently patting the horse’s neck. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Let’s get him to Toshishiro first,” the odd monk said. “There’s no need to repeat the story multiple times.”

Toshishiro was the oldest man Usagi had ever seen with a weapon in hand. He moved slowly, but it didn’t seem to be because of age, rather because he chose to practice this way. His face was rich in life and wrinkles, skin gone leathery from too much time spent in the sun.

He didn’t stop his slow, elegant movements as he said, “Is there trouble or have you brought pretty ladies to please an old, lonely man?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Master Toshishiro,” the odd monk said, “but there’s indeed a problem. We have a boy here who’s missing from his own body.”

That
prompted the elderly monk to stop and face them. “Ah, I hadn’t seen him! He really is empty. Was he attacked by a demon?”

Everybody looked at Usagi. Taking a breath, she began—

“Tell the truth,” Marin said. “No tweaking to fit the audience. There’s no clan leader to reproach you for it, you said. Explain what happened.”

Usagi looked at the older woman helplessly. “We’re going to need tea, if I’m to start that far back.” She was so thirsty she was considering whether she could get away with drinking from the purification fountain.

Toshishiro said. “I’ll arrange it.”

The horse was taken away, and Mamoru carried inside to a private room with no furniture other than a low table in the middle. Tea was served and, after Usagi’s stomach betrayed her by grumbling loudly, rice rolls as well. The rolls were hours old and correspondingly dry, but she was content to wash them down with tea while she talked and talked.

The tale tumbled from her lips in bits and pieces. The attacks on the Fox clan and their disastrous result. The leadership change and what Mamoru said had befallen him at the new leader’s hands. Her assignment in Nara and Mamoru’s later arrival to join her. The news they’d had from the clan.

“The message said foxes attacked our home for revenge and broke the clan by taking out our leader and strongest members. Survivors fled. The message also said we had to look out for ourselves any way we could. It wasn’t signed, but the secret script was correct. Advisor Yoshida appears to have received similar information from his own sources.”