The Way of the Fox (2 page)

“An earth-
shattering, wild, amazing business!” The fox
trot-trot-trotted
merrily along. “With plum wine!”

The fox began to cross the muddy ford, leaping between stepping stones on delicate black feet. She paused and suddenly looked back at Kuno.

“Hey! This tournament of yours? Um – are you wearing that armour?”

Kuno glowered. “
What is wrong with my armour?”

“Oh, it’s perfectly lovely!
You know – I just wouldn’t want it to get all scuffed.” She slipped into the bushes beside the road and vanished. “Don’t step on my stuff!”

Asodo Kuno still felt somewhat confused.

“Why are we investigating an empty road?”

Sura’s voice
drifted merrily from the ferns ahead.

“I investigate things to complete my knowledge! When my knowledge is complete, my heart shall be sincere. When I act with a sincere heart, my actions shall be pure, and I shall be loved by all the myriad things!”

The ever patient Tonbo knelt down. He carefully rolled up Sura’s clothing – short sword, divided skirts, printed robes and all – and stuck them through the top of his pack. The big man effortlessly shouldered Sura’s backpack beside his own, then hefted his enormous club.

“I can take the spear.” He reached for the weapon and shouldered it alongside his tetsubo. “Come, Kuno san. It is five
ri
to the main Ayamejo road.”

The road became a narrow lane threading onward beneath dark
, oppressive trees. Last year’s fallen leaves carpeted the road in mats of yellow-brown. Somewhere up ahead, birds croaked and insects droned: the scent of distant marshland began to sour the air. Tonbo and Kuno walked side by side in a world of shadows, their footfalls sounding soft and hushed upon the old, damp leaves.

Somewhere in the woods beside them, the fox kept careful guard.
Sura moved through the weeds in utter silence. Tonbo seemed aware of her location, never needing to glance. But Kuno flicked his eyes from side to side, trying to divine her presence. He thought her saw her only once – her tail tip flashing white: but it was nothing but a patch of onion weed waving in the breeze.

Kuno
and Tonbo walked in companionable silence. Tonbo’s presence was oddly calming: Kuno’s anxieties about promotion vanished. They padded onwards through the gloom, and felt the strange, still forest echoing all around them.

The place felt… empty. Watchful.
Old leaves blew through the underbrush, clattering as they flew. After a long hour of walking together, Kuno and Tonbo finally heard the first small sign of human life.

A chant rosed and fell slowly in the gloom: a prayer chanted by a deep, growling voice.
The rhythm of the words seemed to linger through the trees, drifting off along the abandoned road.

“Homage to Amida Buddha,

I
n sixteen trillion manifestations.

Homage to the lord of the
Pure Land.

H
omage to the way of the Lotus,

T
hat breaks forth from the karmic wheel.

Jiz
ō, guardian of travellers,

P
lace this road beneath your gaze.

Bodhisattva
of mercy,

T
ake all those who tread this road into your heart.”

Beside the road, there stood a silent village – a place half overgrown with weeds. A broad inn that had no customers: a sandal shop with empty shelves.

On the roadside just beyond the village,
an ancient, bowed old woman knelt beside an aged monk. Both prayed before a rough-hewn statue of
Jizō
, the deity of travellers. The monk continued his deep, powerful dirge, running his rosary between his hands and frowning deeply into the statue’s face.

The two samurai bowed to the
villagers, then bowed most profoundly to the statue. They stood and waited until the monk had finished his litany. Kuno then respectfully bowed to the man once more.

“
Honoured monk. Honoured grandmother – please forgive us for disturbing you.” Kuno looked at the statue beside the road – it still had tool marks bright against the stone. “You are placing a Jizō, to protect travellers?”

The m
onk nodded, his shaven head bowed. The man’s sturdy shoulders were hunched with grief and mourning.

“
Good day to you, honoured samurai.” The monk made certain that offerings of rice and flowers were properly in their place before the statue. “We have just placed this Jizō, to revere the eminent bodhisattva. We are in great need of his protection.

“
We place this statue here in memory of a dead girl. We hope that passers-by will offer a prayer and help her soul find peace.”

Ton
bo stirred. He looked carefully at the weed-strewn fields of the village. “She died here?” He grounded his immense tetsubo. “How?”

The old w
oman did not look up. She kept her hands clasped to the Jizō statue. And her eyes fixed upon the ground.

“
Samurai – my grand daughter was murdered three days ago. Slain on the night of her betrothal!”

Kuno straightened –
quite chilled. He looked along the roadway – suddenly deeply alert.

Tonbo knelt down and drew out a sheet of coloured paper from his
pack. He quietly folded it as he knelt beside the old woman. Kuno cleared his throat and quietly took the monk aside. He spoke with a polished, sympathetic discretion.

“
Bonze
san – has this been the only murder?”

“
It is the only one that we know of, samurai. But the road – it is deserted! This was only ever a minor path, but still – there would be peddlers, couriers, even entertainers. And the outlying farms are deserted.”

“And the bride?”

“It was terrible, samurai san. On her betrothal day, she put on her best robes and stood by the road to watch for her groom’s arrival. But a sound was heard by the innkeeper. When he came running to the road, he found the poor girl’s body in the grass.”

“
It was horrible, Samurai. Horrible. It was as if some beast had half consumed her. There were no clothes, no skin. Merely raw red flesh.” The monk looked away. “She was so young…”

Kuno considered.

“Did the village men try to seek out the murderer?”

“
Yes, samurai. Five men in a group walked the length of the road, but they saw no sign. It is an utter mystery.”

Tonbo had overheard. He rose up, shouldering his weapons.

“We will search the road.”

He placed an offering before the Jizō: a
tiny, perfectly folded paper fox. Tonbo bowed towards the statue, then walked out onto the road. Kuno joined him. They stood for a moment, considering the woods, then walked slowly on towards the swamp. The monk and the old woman anxiously watched them go. The old woman placed a hand against her heart.

Tonbo and Kuno
continued down the road – down towards distant marshes, where birds croaked dully in the trees. Tonbo walked until he reached a tangle of fallen timber, then sat to re-tie his sandals. Kuno stood and regarded the road, one hand caressing the hilt of his sword.

“Your intuitions were correct, Tonbo san.
Something terrible lurks on the road.” Kuno creased his brows. “This is deeply disturbing. Why would bandits flay one of their victims?” Kuno looked back at the empty village. “That is an act of terror. Is someone trying to force these people away from their land?”

A pointed fox nose emerged from the weeds at his side. Sura
blinked her expressive green eyes.

“
Hey, maybe they were going to cook the victim? You take the skin off something before you cook it! Well – some people do. You probably do.”

Ku
no shot a glare of disdain down at the fox.

“I hardly think so.”

“Hey – just using logic! Unlike some.” The fox gave a sigh. “Poor people. But really – sixteen trillion manifestations? Where did they pull
that
figure from?”

The samurai replied
with a deep hauteur. “It is a measure of the Buddha within all men.”

“Sixteen trillion?” Sleek and
droll, the fox walked around and around Kuno’s feet. “Buddhists! To place boundaries about the boundless: to try and place restrictions upon the immeasurable. These are not the actions of the sage.”

Kuno was uncertain whether to be scathing, or scandalised. “Who are you to cast doubts upon the wisdom of the Buddha?”

“Hey – I’m a Taoist! It’s my job.” The fox gave a swirl of her tail. “Numbers. You folk are hearing the maths and missing the point. I point my finger at the sky to show you the moon, and you all call out
‘finger’
!”

Tonbo rapped upon the log
, trying to redirect her attention.

“
The road?”

“Oooh ye
ah. The road!” Sura rummaged about in the grass behind her. “Well – no bandits. There was a hair ribbon just off the verge. Red – the kind of lucky colour you’d give a bride. No signs of blood or battle or anything.” She handed the ribbon to Tonbo, then hummed and hawed. “There’s nothing by the road. I’m not finding any solid clues.”

“Perhaps you should range further.”

The fox was well pleased. “Well – if you think you boys will be safe!”

“We’ll manage.” Tonbo finished
tying up his sandal. “Stay close – in ear shot at all times. Take no chances. Call out if you find anything.”

“
Pffft! We’re not married!” The fox trotted off into the grass. “Relax! I’m an exorcist.
Torijutsu
. I think I can take care of myself!” Sura’s voice faded off into the bushes. “Find clues! Information. A witness would be great. Or a real estate broker who can tell you why anyone would want the place…!” She disappeared. “Oooh look – wild mint! I love this stuff!”

Tonbo could only shake his head.
He arose, and led the way as he and Kuno trekked back out onto the road.

Kuno glanced at the bushes, wher
e thick mats of spider’s web now clung between the trees. The fox had utterly vanished once again.

“Tonbo san. That woman is truly
a priestess?”

“Yes.”

“And a trained criminal investigator?”

“In a sense.”

“But not a Buddhist?”

“Decidedly not.” Tonbo
gave a dark, ironic laugh. “Decidedly not.”

The
y walked onward – on towards the marshes that stretched out beside the road.

For the first time in her life, Sura
was doing exactly what she knew she had been born to do. She was on the case, wild and free – investigating mysteries, chasing monsters! Tail high, she trotted on all four dainty feet through the ragged underbrush. The air was filled with interesting scents – the universe was filled with sounds. She could feel the great Tao all around her – a living, breathing universe of infinite possibilities. Murders aside, it was an utterly perfect day.

Tonbo and the newcomer were walk
ing along the road, moving slowly and steadily. Sura took the opportunity to range off and away towards the marsh. Four-footed and fancy free, she threaded her way between weeds and grasses. Tangled bushes hid her from any possible lurking eye. She roamed back away from the road, and began poking her long muzzle here and there about the trees.

Something was quite definitely wrong with the marsh and woods. The place had an air about it – a terrible, chill sense of disquiet. In her considered opinion – and if one were honest, Sura was
always
full of opinions – there was a ghost at large. Hopefully a great big fat one! It was quite likely to be luring people off the road here and there. It would hardly be a match for a highly trained and dedicated Spirit Hunter. And so Sura made her way down towards the marsh, moving perhaps a
touch
too far away from the road, and began to nose her way along the shallows.

Swamps were usually fascinating places – filled with water insects, with dragonflies, tadpoles and tortoises
. This particular marsh, however, seemed to be quite stagnant: greasy with bubbles and old algae. There were few signs of life: not even the distant screeching of a bird. Swamp water ran between great ragged aisles of reeds, with stepping stones jutting here and there out of the muck.

The entire place was lifeless. There were no signs of blood, bandits or murder. No paths between the weeds. A
fter a long hour of pottering about, she had very little to show for her efforts.