The Fox's Quest (3 page)

“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

T
he 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.”

Yoshio 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

T
he 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, singing 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.

A red fox popped into existence.
Finally, you’re here! Physical travel is so slow.
It turned its slanted black eyes upon him.
Do you see what I mean now, Brother? This is only the beginning. Further on, it’s worse.

“I begin to see,” he allowed. “How far can you go?”

Not much farther. Being here is already unpleasant. Don’t you feel anything?

Akakiba stood quietly, listening to his instincts, but he perceived nothing unusual except the lack of animal noise. Where were the singing birds and chirping squirrels? Where were the buzzing bugs?

“I’m a bit uneasy,” Yuki said. “But I think it’s because the life here is all dying. It looks wrong.”

You’ll feel the cause of it soon enough. Tomorrow you’ll have to go on without me. Please, be careful.

It was so easy to trust the familiar voice, which is why Akakiba couldn’t afford to do so. He had to remember the hard truth—nobody in living memory had ever “survived” death. It was true the spirit’s aura was indistinguishable from Sanae’s, but that didn’t mean it was her. It could have been an especially strong ghost.

Contrary to popular belief, ghosts weren’t souls unable to move on. Rather, ghosts were spirits tainted by human deaths to the point they thought they were the person. It was a
sohei
’s job to cleanse ghosts, to free the spirits from the taint and allow them to return to their proper existence.

Ghosts weren’t supposed to be functional, independent entities like the Sanae lookalike was, but maybe that was because they of the Fox clan were different than humans. Or maybe—he disliked the thought the moment it formed—a spirit had somehow absorbed or copied Sanae’s soul. He’d never heard of such a thing, but it was less farfetched than the idea anyone could survive death.

How could he discern the truth? Ask Jien to cleanse the lookalike to see what happened? There might not even be a way to find out for sure if this entity was Sanae in any real way. If he were foolish enough to believe his baby sister was here with him, only to discover otherwise later… That would hurt worse than anything.

With these troubling thoughts swirling in his head, Akakiba returned to his meal, the roasted leftovers of a pair of rabbits he’d caught the previous night. Good thing he’d gone hunting then, as he wasn’t sure there was game to be found in this sickened area.

The dragon munched on a bone without interest; it’d eaten plenty earlier in the week and, like a snake, it didn’t require daily feedings. Yuki, too, was eating rabbit. He looked guilty, but that would fade in time. Being part of the cycle of life was no reason to feel guilty, regardless of what human religion claimed.

The horses usually grazed to supplement their daily feed but tonight they barely nibbled. Perhaps they were sensitive to the wrongness here, although not to a degree sufficient to act out. They’d have to be watched.

The fox-shaped spirit hadn’t left. It currently sat on its haunches on the other side of their modest fire.
I have news to share. I’ve been speaking with Father, and he says Mother has uncovered troubling information about a man named Matsumoto. Do you recall him?

“I do,” Yuki said. “He made trouble when we were selling dragon eggs last year. An officer had to intervene. Matsumoto harassed the officer’s family because of it.”

“I asked Mother to handle the matter,” Akakiba said, his curiosity roused. “If you know what happened to him, do tell.”

Oh, the man became fish food months ago. However, Mother discovered he’s been blamed for bringing the dragon sickness to the city. People recall that when he first came, he had with him a dragon that slept all the time. He carried it everywhere, paying courtesy calls to everyone of importance and offering his dragon’s breeding services. His beast was one of the first to die of the sickness.

“Are you saying he knew it was sick and deliberately sought to contaminate the others? Humans would call that heresy.”

Yuki hissed in concert with his bonded dragon. “That bastard.”

It’s what Mother believes. He’s a nobody and he shouldn’t have had the money to afford a dragon in the first place. It would explain why he was so anxious to get another one, after. The sick dragon must have been supplied to him.

“I see a few possibilities,” Yuki murmured.

As did Father. We agreed it’s likely the same person or organization who sent the
shinobi
. They wanted to weaken our defenses any way they could. Perhaps they’d hoped to sneak possessed people into the city itself.

“There may have been other subtle moves made we weren’t aware of,” Akakiba said.

Yes, that is a possibility.
The spirit produced a sound comparable to a sigh.
If Mother had known to extract information from Matsumoto before arranging his accident, we may have been able to learn who it is behind all this.

Since the source was questionable, this information may or may not have been true. But it sounded plausible and didn’t seem worth lying about, so Akakiba elected to accept it at face value until he had a chance to obtain proof one way or another.

They slept soundly and rose early, eager to go on. The Sanae impersonator turned back when the ground dipped into the valley it called the dead zone, a place where absolutely everything was lifeless. It was from the middle of this area, the impersonator believed, that spiritual energy was being stolen.

Be careful,
it called after them.

They rode onward, staring round. The trees were naked ghosts pointing at the sky or lying broken down. All that should have been green was brown and shriveled. Not a single living creature was visible, not even a bug. Everything that could flee had evidently done so and everything that couldn’t had died. The reason the trees still stood was there were no bugs, mushrooms, or mold to eat them until they weakened and fell.

They made their way through the dead landscape holding the reins tight, for the horses shied and danced ceaselessly. The dragon hissed but didn’t speak.

“I feel...itchy,” Akakiba said. “Yuki?”

“Itchy is a good description. I also feel jumpy and eager to leave, as if there were terrible danger lurking. Which is unlikely, since there’s nothing alive…”

This gave Akakiba the mental image of being attacked by dead things, a wildly unlikely possibility that nonetheless increased his unease exponentially.

The sound of wind running through dead trees was like a distant, pained moan, as if the forest’s ghosts were still here. Knowing such ghosts couldn’t exist hardly made it less unnerving.

“Stay close to me, Yuki,” he murmured, urging his mount onward. Normal horses might have bolted; these war-trained ones could yet be persuaded to go on. “Good boy,” he said, patting his mount’s sweaty neck. “It’s safe.”

That could have been a lie. How should he know? Almost despite himself, he drew his sword to be ready to handle any enemy that presented itself. He pictured dead things rising from the ground to grasp at them with bone hands and paws.

They wandered, trying to locate the center of the dead area, until finally they spied something shiny in the distance. They approached with caution, watching their surroundings with hawk-like attention. Not a thing moved.

The shiny thing was a sword half buried in the trunk of a dead tree. Akakiba tied the horses before starting forward to inspect it, worried the animals might bolt if anything should happen.

“Who could shove a sword in wood like that?” Yuki wondered.

“I could do it with my full strength,” Akakiba said dubiously, “but why would I or anyone else want to do this?”

“It must be the thing Sanae felt.” Yuki’s hand went to hover near the blade. “It does pull on me.”

“Don’t touch it,” Drac hissed from horseback, for he hadn’t dismounted. “I don’t like it.”

“How did it kill everything?” Yuki stepped back to study it at a safe distance. “It’s a demon-slaying sword, isn’t it?”

The exposed part of the blade had familiar glyphs on it, that much was true. They were even glowing faintly, as if they were in use. Frowning, Akakiba crouched to study the glyphs and compare them with the ones on his own sword. “These aren’t right.”

“What do you mean? Badly carved?”

“They’re entirely different glyphs. I can’t tell what they’re meant to do. We’d need Jien for that.”

“Can we bring it back and show it to him? Maybe he could explain how it works. Maybe he could reverse it.”

Akakiba reached out gingerly, allowing his palm to almost touch the blade. No pull, as far as he could tell. It was odd that he, a half-human and half-spirit being, seemed to be less sensitive to an energy-stealing sword than his human friend was. Maybe it was the dragon bond screwing things up again.

He moved to touch the sword’s hilt and paused: it was coated in a thin film of a substance that looked like grime. He took a good sniff.

“Poison,” he said in surprise. Reaching for the water gourd, he emptied it over the hilt. He produced a rag to wipe it down, working carefully and tossing the rag away afterward. Once satisfied, he grasped it. There may have been traces of poison remaining, but his metabolism would be able to filter it out if any got into his blood. Planting his feet on the dead tree trunk, he heaved.

The sword refused to budge.

“If I must…”

Akakiba bled red. He didn’t need to see himself to know his long hair, normally jet-black, turned redder than the fall leaves. Or that his face became covered in strange markings and his eyes filled red as if with blood. With that strength, he pulled.

The katana slid free of the tree trunk. In that moment, as he held the blade while exposing his inhuman half’s power, he felt the pull. The glyphs flared to brilliant life as the sword attacked. It began to feed, sinking its teeth in his life force. Real teeth in his real flesh would have hurt less. He couldn’t even scream.

“Drop it!” Yuki screamed, lunging forward.

That sounded like wonderful advice, but his muscles were locked in place, his fingers as well as frozen against the object trying to eat him alive.

Yuki hit Akakiba’s hand at the juncture of his fingers, loosening his grasp. The sword fell and the pain vanished, leaving behind only a dull throbbing. Akakiba stopped bleeding red immediately, hiding his secret half deep within his human flesh, where it would be safe.

“Cursed thing!” he swore, eying the sword malevolently. Then, more calmly, “Thank you, Yuki.”

He didn’t say anything dramatic like “you saved my life,” but he thought it. If there hadn’t been anyone to get that thing out of his hand…

They couldn’t leave it here, much as he would have liked to do just that. His hand wrapped in his sleeve for protection, he picked it up under Yuki’s watchful gaze. “I feel nothing amiss now.” He didn’t trust the feeling. The general unease they had been feeling was almost certainly this thing’s work, a sign it was trying to leech their strength, nibbling at the edges of their life energy. Proximity to this sword had killed the forest; in time, it might do the same to them. They had to get this thing contained as fast as possible.

After wrapping the blade in a blanket, he shoved it into one of the packs hanging over his horse’s flanks. “We should leave.”

“Agreed,” Yuki said, mounting. “I saw…” He swallowed. “It was trying to eat your life spark.”

“I noticed.” He shuddered, remembering that split moment of pure agony.

Their modest riding skills were taxed by the effort of keeping their horses from galloping away, as they clearly wanted; they snorted and pulled at the reins. It was too easy for a horse to break a leg when running on uneven ground. Still, they hurried away from that blighted place.