Sharp-Ear and Pearl-Ear both seemed dazed, but they were glaring at Toshi. He bowed, a malicious grin on his lips.
Eager to depart before the kitsune began making speeches, Toshi waved, spun his jitte around his index finger, and hiked off into the woods.
Half a day’s hike from the kitsune village, Toshi walked into an ambush. He was exhausted, and his head was spinning from the day’s events, so he didn’t feel too ashamed of being caught. He wasn’t overly fond of the sharp, silver spike that angled up through his ribs, but at least he wasn’t ashamed of being caught.
His attacker pounced from behind a tree. All Toshi saw was a flash of metal before the searing, icy pain shot through his lungs. Whoever she was, she was fast and determined, and she didn’t make a sound. She stood with her weapon in Toshi’s chest, glaring at him until he fell backward to the ground. She held onto the spike so that it scraped painfully against his ribs as it pulled free.
She was clearly a soratami. Even if her pale skin and slight build didn’t give her away, she was wearing a bizarre metal mask in the shape of the crescent moon. Had Mochi come with followers? Was he sneaky enough to bring a secondary force to avenge his own death?
Toshi tried to crawl away, but the slightest breath caused searing agony. His lungs felt packed with broken glass. The moon-maiden’s single visible eye held him contemptuously as his blood dripped from her weapon.
“So,” he managed. “What’s this all about?”
Slowly, the soratami reached around and undid the strap that held her mask in place. The metallic silver fell to the forest floor, and she looked at him, watching him bleed and waiting for him to recognize her.
Not that it should have been hard. Her nose was badly broken, bent in one direction from top to middle and in the other from middle to tip. She also had a series of deep, livid scars angling down one side of her face that stretched to her throat and on under her collar. Whatever had created those scars had also taken her eye.
“Sorry,” Toshi said. “Don’t know who you are. What’d I ever do to you?”
“I am Chiyo of the soratami,” she said. “You desecrated the streets of Oboro. You beat me bloody and set your oni dog on me.” She ran her fingers over her missing eye. “You murdered my mentor and my patron spirit.”
“Oh, that,” Toshi said. He gritted his teeth against the pain in his chest. “So … anything to say before you kill me?”
“I have already killed you. Now I am going to stand here and watch you die.”
“I can … I can think of better ways to spend five minutes.”
“I cannot. And you’ll be very lucky indeed if you only last five minutes. I was very precise. You should last at least thirty.”
“Oh, good. Time for a … pleasant little chat.”
“Say as much as you like, lowlife. I’ve seen how your mouth never stops moving. The more you talk, the more it hurts. I planned this very carefully.”
“How … how do you like the results so far?”
“Very satisfying. So far.”
Toshi.
Toshi perked up at the sound of a voice in his head, but even that sent fresh pain grinding through his torso.
I am almost ready to forgive you, Toshi. Night’s voice was calm, casual. Almost. Are you ready to be forgiven?
“I am.” Toshi spoke aloud because it was becoming difficult to think.
Chiyo sneered, unaware of the far more important conversation Toshi was having. “Not for long.”
Good. Now. I can save you, of course. I can take you away from here. I can even smite the vengeful soratami for you. All you have to do is ask.
“Smite,” Toshi said. “Smite away.”
“I’ve done all I need to,” Chiyo said.
Forgive me, my former acolyte, I misspoke. All you have to do is ask … and declare yourself mine once more.
“I am yours,” Toshi winced.
Again. Say it properly.
“I am yours, O Night.”
Excellent. Now. Extend your hand.
The pain was blinding, but Toshi managed to lift his arm.
“Oh, yes,” Chiyo said. “Beg. That would be a most unexpected bonus.”
Sneering through her ruined face, Chiyo leaned forward to catch Toshi’s dying plea. She was not so foolish or triumphant as to come within reach, but she did come closer.
A stream of solid darkness flowed from Toshi’s outstretched hand to Chiyo’s face. It hardened around her features in an instant, cutting off sight, sound, and air. She staggered by Toshi twice, wildly slashing with her silver spike, but she never made contact.
It was something of a fair trade: the pain in Toshi’s chest continued to mount, but he did get to watch Chiyo slow, stop, and ultimately fall to the forest floor.
“Thank you … O Night. I’ll take even a small, cheap victory … when it’s offered.”
Toshi, my loyal acolyte. I promised I’d save you, didn’t I?
“Yes. But I figured that was part … part of the joke.”
This is no joke, Toshi. Night’s voice grew loud, though her tone remained maddeningly calm. And besides … you don’t actually think I’m through with you yet … do you?
Toshi grunted. “I had … I had hoped.”
With a laugh that sounded like glass breaking on tombstones, the Myojin of Night’s Reach enveloped Toshi in a curtain of pure darkness.
EPILOGUE
Toshi regained consciousness on a high cliff overlooking the sea. He groaned and rolled onto his back, checking his chest with his fingers. The wound was gone, but some of the pain remained. It would be a while before he got his full wind back.
Gingerly, he crawled to his knees and then stood. He didn’t recognize the coastline. In fact, he didn’t recognize the ocean. He was used to dark, brackish water that barely crested above three feet. These waves were a light blue-green and huge-the smallest swell was taller than Toshi himself.
Out to sea, he saw two huge spires of rock. They looked too perfect to be natural, but who could have constructed them? And what purpose did they serve so far away?
He was ravenously hungry, but the only edible thing he saw was a twig-sized sapling that might someday be a fruit tree. He carefully approached the edge of the rocky cliff. It was a sheer drop of over one hundred feet to the pebbled beach below. If he wanted fish, he’d have to navigate down the treacherous cliff face, and his ribs were in no shape to do that.
Toshi inhaled and then coughed. The air here didn’t smell or taste right. He began to have serious concerns about where Night had deposited him.
Toshi. Then the myojin’s voice came to him, soft and muted as if she were far, far away. You’re awake. Excellent. Let me ask you … did you ever wonder why I wanted you to protect the Taken One?
“Where am I, O Night?”
It’s rude to answer a question with a question, Toshi.
Toshi sighed. “No. I didn’t give it much thought, actually. I supposed it was because you liked the way things were, and if Konda or O-Kagachi got it back, things would change.”
You were partially correct, but there was another, far more interesting reason.
“It sounds interesting. I am interested. But must I guess this other reason, or will you tell me?”
When Konda acquired the Taken One, he changed the fundamental balance in Kamigawa. He broke through the barrier that separates the real world from the spirit world. O-Kagachi embodied that barrier. Konda’s act was a direct attack upon him.
“I understand.”
In fact, Konda’s crime allowed me to see the barrier from a whole new perspective. When the serpent turned his attention to finding and reclaiming what was stolen, the barrier between worlds was further weakened. And without his being wholly dedicated to protecting it, I found I could traverse not only the boundary between physical and spiritual, but the boundary between Kamigawa and other worlds. Strange, new worlds with different rules, different paths to power. While O-Kagachi was not watching, I was able to visit these worlds. What do you think I found there?