"Please, come and talk."
"We can talk here."
"So be it." Mitsuhide gave a pained hiss as he sat across from Izō, one hand pressed to his ribs. "They say you kill demons."
Izō snorted then nodded at the oni's cooling corpse. "Is that what they say?"
Mitsuhide glanced at those ashigaru who'd managed to stand. "See to the wounded."
Nodding, they limped away, and Mitsuhide leaned close to continue in hushed tones. "Do you know the name Dairokuten Mao'ō?"
Izō snorted. "The Demon King of Six Heavens? Isn't that what the peasants are calling Nobunaga?"
"There is truth to the name." Mitsuhide gave a nervous shake of his head. "Nobunaga was always cruel and paranoid, but it has grown worse. There's a shadow about him. He lets his soldiers ravage the countryside, burns monks and priests in their temples. Several of his generals spoke out against the atrocities, and he had them executed. Then there was the betrayal of your lord."
Izō's grimace was not only for the pain in his bruised ribs.
"You must believe me when I say I didn't know he would murder Hatano in cold blood. More than that, he laughed as your lord was beheaded."
"So Nobunaga is vicious and dishonorable," Izō said. "Many lords have done far worse and not been demons."
"There's more." Mitsuhide glanced over his shoulder, as if to even continue might draw his lord's wrath. "The last time I was in Kyoto, I was passing his chambers late at night and I heard him muttering. Lord Nobunaga is oft given to speaking to himself, so I thought little of it until I heard another voice answer. I swear he was alone in his room, but more than that it was the sound of this thing — like wind blowing through a graveyard. I consider myself a brave man, but it was as if I was a child lost in the dark. I swear by my ancestors that what I heard speaking with Nobunaga that night was not human."
Izō sucked air through his teeth. Nobunaga's rise to power had been almost uncanny. Powerful as they were, no spirit or oni could've engineered such victories as the Oda clan had won. Sometimes, men with ambition and cruelty often turned to pacts with dark forces to realize their grand desires. If Nobunaga had truly dragged some demon from the twisted labyrinth of Jigoku it would be no mere oni or hungry ghost, but something ancient and unspeakably evil.
"All the creatures around Kyoto were killed centuries ago. We have no hunters, no warriors skilled in combating these things. I didn't know where else to turn." Tears glittered in Mitsuhide's eyes. "If Nobunaga become ruler of Japan, I fear it will become a living hell."
"You would betray your lord?"
General Mitsuhide straightened. "I would save him."
Izō shook his head. How could he have missed this? He'd gotten so caught up in vengeance that he'd lost sight of what were birds and what were stones.
"I'll need some new clothes, a few good meals, and no questions from you or your men."
"Yes, of course. Anything." Mitsuhide grinned. "I'd give you thousand broken swords if you wished."
"No need," he said with an almost regretful look at the dead oni. "I'm hoping one will do."
They crept like thieves through the darkness, faces masked, armor and weapons blackened, and swords muffled in their sheaths. The night was hot and humid, high summer in the city of Kyoto. They stuck to the back alleys, avoiding the frenzied buzz of conversation and laughter that filled the capital even in the small hours of the morning. Those merchants and drunks who happened to notice a score of armed men pass by quickly found other things to occupy their attention — nighttime killings were not uncommon under Nobunaga's rule, and those who spoke too loudly of them often found themselves next on the list.
"Our enemy is at Honnō Temple," Mitsuhide whispered. "My lord has always enjoyed despoiling places of worship."
"Guards?" Izō asked.
"A few dozen at most. Kyoto is Nobunaga's stronghold, he would never expect an attack here." Mitsuhide was grim. "My army is ready to march on the city should we fail."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." Izō gripped the Yamato blade more tightly. It had been forged in the ancient days to battle demons, but broken and scarred as it was Izō only hoped enough of the old spells remained.
The temple was little more than a dark blot amidst the gloom, gates locked and barred; a few guards lounged in wan light cast by a pair of lanterns hanging from the eaves.
Mitsuhide nodded to a pair of his men, who drew knives, but paused when Izō held up a hand.
"We'll go over the wall, there." He thrust his chin at a section that abutted a nearby building.
The soldiers looked to Mitsuhide.
"No questions, General," Izō said.
After a moment's hesitation Mitsuhide nodded, and the men stowed their blades.
The wall was twice Izō's height, the tiled overhang looming as they padded up, ropes in hand.
"Give me a boost," Izō whispered to the nearest man, who knelt and made a stirrup of his hands.
"All right, up and over. Careful you don't chip a tooth on the wall," the ashigaru lisped as he took hold of Izō's foot. Glancing down in surprise, Izō saw the man had pulled down his mask to show a grin, ragged where several teeth had been knocked out by a hard elbow to the face.
Izō winced. "Sorry about that back on Kuchisake."
"I'm grateful, actually." The man's smile grew wider. "Saved me from getting swallowed by an oni, didn't it?"
"So it did."
With a soft grunt, Izō leapt for the overhang, scrabbling at the tile for a sickening second before getting a grip on the wall. He dangled there, breath held and ears pricked for the shout that would mean the guards had heard.
None came.
He levered himself up and over the edge, suddenly aware of how exposed he was. Trying to hunker down he tied the rope off and lowered it, expecting any moment to feel the cold bite of an arrow in his back.
The courtyard was of tiled stone in the Chinese style, empty but for a pair of servants carrying a large teapot and tray of sweetened azuki buns.
Izō dropped to the ground, trying to time his landing so it coincided with the servants opening the door to the central temple. Light spilled from beyond the door, absent the sound of laughter or song that would indicate Lord Nobunaga was entertaining guests. He murmured a prayer of thanks to Lord Hatano and any other of his ancestors who were watching over him, then crept into the courtyard.
A few soft thuds behind and the Akechi soldiers joined him, weapons bared. They made it almost to the door before the call went up.
There was a shout from the gate, then the sudden flare of torchlight. Guards tumbled from outbuildings, unarmored and wild-eyed, but with swords and bows at the ready. The Akechi warriors turned to meet the oncoming rush, and the night was soon filled with the shouts of fighting men and the clash of weapons.
A young samurai rushed at Izō, bare-chested, hair streaming loose from his queue as he brought his sword arcing down. Izō stepped into the strike, reaching up to catch the man's forearm to rob the blow of its strength. Forming a hard ridge with his free hand he drove it into young samurai's jaw, then hooked his ankle and tossed him to the ground. Spears stabbed down like beaks of hungry storks, and Izō was forced to throw himself flat, scrambling toward the temple door. A hand hooked the strap of his breastplate and hauled him up.
"My men will hold the courtyard!" Mitsuhide shouted into his ear. "We must reach Nobunaga."
Together they stumbled for the temple and kicked the door wide. Shrieking servants fled before them, scattering bowls, trays, and lanterns across the woven tatami floor. Flames spread up tapestries and hanging scrolls to lick at the temple's heavy oak beams. In the midst of the chaos sat Oda Nobunaga, hands on his knees, his robes in perfect arrangement.