Kiku watched him silently. When he pushed back from the paralyzed oni and the color began to return to his face, she said, “Now?”

  Toshi nodded. “Now.”

  Kiku tossed the delicate-seeming blossom onto the top of the dog’s bony skull. Unable to move a muscle, the brute snarled, slavered, and growled as the lush purple flower punched thorny roots through the top of its skull. The oni dog shuddered and its three eyes rolled back in its head while the camellia grew larger, more vivid, and more fragrant. By the time the oni’s skull was empty, the camellia’s petals had completely covered its head and shoulders.

  Toshi coughed up something nasty and spat it alongside the dead oni. “Feeling better now,” he said, rising to his feet. “My thanks, oath-sister. I don’t think we’ll have any more problems.”

  Kiku sneered and started to speak, but an arrow suddenly sprouted from her collarbone. Kiku winced but did not cry out as she staggered and fell to her knees.

  Toshi turned just as a yamabushi tackled him to the ground. It was the female sentry who had stopped Toshi at the gates, and he was still too weak to resist her as she quickly relieved him of his jitte and swords. Nearby, Toshi saw her male counterpart kicking the axe from Kiku’s hand and twisting the mahotsukai’s arms behind her, not even bothering to remove the arrow first.

  In the hallway outside, Toshi saw Hidetsugu kneeling to peer through the door. The ogre was too large to easily enter the room, but he was already taking hold of the doorway to widen it for his use.

  “Greetings, fellow reckoners,” he said. With an ear-splitting crack, Hidetsugu tore a double handful of wall away. “Oath-sister … Toshi. Congratulations, you’ve bested a formidable foe.”

  The ogre shuffled through the hole he’d made. The room’s ceiling was high enough for him to stand, and he did so. “But now,” he said, “it’s time to separate the loyal reckoners from the soon-to-be-stains on the bottom of my feet.”

  Toshi tested the yamabushi’s grip, but her strength was still too much for him. He looked up into Hidetsugu’s mad, glowing eyes, as awed and helpless as he’d been years before when One-Eye had sent him out as bait.

  “You talk too much,” Kiku called through her pain. “We aren’t afraid, oath-brother. You cannot harm us while the hyozan is still intact.”

  Hidetsugu paused. He nodded at Kiku then turned to Toshi. “She doesn’t know?”

  Toshi gritted his teeth. He was about to lose the only ally he had, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  “What?” Kiku flared. “What don’t I know?”

  Hidetsugu smiled patronizingly. “You’re quite right, my dear. You are completely safe from me, as are all who bear the true hyozan mark.

  “But Toshi here,” he waved his arm in a grandiose arc, “quit our little brotherhood some time ago. He is no longer oath-bound to me, or you, or the nezumi. He serves the Myojin of Night’s Reach … and himself, of course … but he has no more connection to the hyozan than you did before he tricked you into joining.”

  Kiku forgot her wound and stared at Toshi in open shock. “You utterly contemptible bastard.”

  Toshi merely stared back at Kiku, holding her eyes as if he had nothing to hide, nothing to regret.

  “Turn her loose,” Hidetsugu said. “We will discuss things, she and I. And the hyozan will decide this traitor’s fate together.”

  The yamabushi holding Kiku let go. He placed a hand on her collarbone, circling his thumb and forefinger around the arrow, and it popped out in a flash of orange light and a few droplets of blood.

  Kiku inspected the site of the wound, but her skin had already healed and scarred over beneath the torn purple satin. With her angry eyes fixed on Toshi, Kiku very deliberately crossed the room and stood beside Hidetsugu.

  “Kiku,” Toshi husked, “don’t listen to him. He’s going to kill us all.”

  The beautiful mahotsukai glared at Toshi with pitiless eyes. She snapped her fan open and covered her face, fanning herself as she turned her back. The ogre began to laugh. Toshi endured the sound easily, but only because he could not have felt more desolate and bitter.

  He had failed. He had been one short step away from achieving his goal without sacrificing Kiku or Marrow, but now everything had fallen apart. As if to confirm his bleak position, the second yamabushi also took hold of Toshi as Hidetsugu and Kiku advanced. Being held fast was bad enough, but the combination of gleeful grins and hateful stares on the faces of his former oath-mates did not speak well for his immediate future. Still, there was time for one quick prayer, one last observance to his patron spirit.

  O Night, he thought, help me just one more time.

  Toshi licked his lips and struggled against the yamabushi’s grip while he waited for an answer.

  Marrow-Gnawer enjoyed ascending to the academy’s roof, but staying put once he got there was another matter.

  The top of Minamo was like a small city of worthless buildings to the nezumi clan leader. There were patches of open space, like the one Toshi had tethered the moth to, but mostly there were peaked alcoves, scaffolding, and arcane equipment stations. It was cold and damp, and the roar from the falls made his ears throb. To further foul his mood, a thick mist filled the air from the nose up so he had to crouch if he wanted to see or smell clearly.

  It didn’t help that the moth was completely docile and required almost no attention. Toshi had told him to keep the moth from being discovered or getting loose until he or Kiku returned, but Marrow could tell the moth wasn’t going anywhere, and no one would come up here exploring any time soon.

  Worst of all, there was an entire building full of belongings left behind by important wizards and the scions of wealthy families. In his boredom, Marrow imagined an increasingly dazzling and powerful hoard of treasure that was just waiting for an enterprising nezumi to come along. As the hours wore on he convinced himself all he needed to fund his sudden early retirement was ten minutes alone in the teacher’s dormitory and a heavy sack. No more burglary for the bosses, no more backbiting clan politics, and no more reckoners. They couldn’t force him to avenge anything if they couldn’t find him.

  Once he’d made up his mind, it didn’t take Marrow long to sniff out a way to the academy. A little muscle, a little tooth-work, and soon he had a hole big enough to squeeze through. He poked his face into the hole, saw that it led to some sort of attic storage space, and then pulled back onto the roof in a shower of masonry dust.

  Something was happening. He couldn’t see anything above or beyond the academy roof, but the nezumi tilted his head and listened carefully. He could hear snarls, roars, and terrible cries, but they all sounded far away, fading as if they were falling from the sky to the lake below.

  Marrow shrugged. It was probably just another kami manifestation. Certainly nothing that should distract him from his retirement fund.

  As he pondered his wealthy future, Marrow’s hand exploded into a fiery ball of agony. It felt as if his bones were being crushed by a millstone and burned in a furnace. He hissed and cradled his hand against his chest. When he glanced down, the hyozan symbol scratched into his flesh was glowing white-hot.

  The ratman struggled to his feet and skittered back to Toshi’s moth. He checked the tether and made sure the food bricks were in easy reach. He stood and watched the great insect gently move its wings while burbling happily. If they needed to flee in a hurry, the moth was ready and waiting. Meanwhile, the pain in Marrow’s hand was proving to be a summons he could not ignore. Hyozan business was happening somewhere nearby, and the oath was demanding he get involved.

  Wincing from the pain, Marrow loped back to the hole he had made and disappeared inside.

  Daimyo Konda was amazed by the resistance he encountered in the approach to Minamo but he did not let it sway his path. He did not understand how the fabled yamabushi kami-killers had come to fight alongside oni demons, but neither did he care. Whoever and whatever stood between him and his prize would be cut down like rice before the sickle.

  Astride his perfect white steed, Konda galloped along the battlefront. He urged his ghost army forward where the oni were thickest and focused the moth riders on the high-leaping yamabushi as he himself led the charge for the academy. Konda had always been a fighting general, unwilling to send his soldiers into a battle without him, and he felt blessed to be fighting alongside his retainers once more.

  The spirit army was the finest he had ever commanded, responding to his commands almost before he gave them. They were fearless, fast, and strong. They moved as a single coherent entity, overwhelming the enemy and always advancing like an irresistible tide.

  Konda noted that the misshapen spectral warriors moved faster, struck harder, and glowed more brightly when he was beside them. To confirm that this was no trick of the brain or delusion of ego, the daimyo watched his warriors as he rode the ranks. The daimyo beamed as he galloped. It was true—with their leader to personally rally them, his ghost warriors were even more formidable.

  Konda’s grin faded into a disgusted scowl. The demon filth opposing his army was unworthy of their swords. Oni were mere monsters, twisted and vile brutes who wallowed in bloodlust and gluttony. This was not a war fit for his army. This was but extermination of a dangerous pest.

  The oni were savage and numerous, but they were unable to stop Konda’s advance. His army’s phantom swords cut more keenly than steel and their arms never tired. Though the demons’ claws could tear their bodies, the wounds never bled and healed almost as quickly as they were made. Against such invincible and well-disciplined troops, these mere oni were outnumbered and woefully overmatched.

  The yamabushi were another matter. Trained to battle kami and other spirits, the mountain priests were striking down Konda’s ghost army with alarming efficiency. They moved almost unimpeded through the crush of battle, felling spectral horses and phantom infantry alike with sword and staff and magic bolt. Though Konda’s ranks never seemed to dwindle … those that fell to the kami-killers soon reappeared to continue the fight. He would have to intervene personally if the yamabushi could not be brought to heel.

  Overhead, scores of gleaming battle-moths soared ever closer to the academy. Konda had kept them in reserve in case the yamabushi became a serious threat to his own progress, but so far the warrior priests had only been able to sting at his flanks with their powerful hit and run tactics.

  With a thought and a wave, Konda directed most of the battle-moths to move on toward Minamo. The rest he called to him. When they were circling overhead, Konda scanned the battlefield to note the positions of each yamabushi. He raised his face and clapped his hands, and the moths split into pairs, one pair for each mountain priest.

  Surprised, the first yamabushi cried out as the moth-riders attacked. They converged on his position, each rider clasping his hands overhead. Moth and rider alike were enveloped by a cold, yellow glow, and then two braided streams of glowing eyes spiraled from each attacking moth to the yamabushi below. His face was wide and vacant, and he howled incoherently as the beam attack crushed him to the ground like a gnat beneath a stone.

  Konda roared his triumphant battle cry. This was how it was meant to end, on the field of battle where he could conquer his enemies and win back his prize in the same master stroke. The Taken One was ahead, his eyes still fixed on it within the academy building. He would clear the field and ascend to Minamo on the backs of his beloved battle-moths. And if they could not carry him, he would climb to the heights of Kamitaki Falls with his own hands.

  The daimyo stood in his saddle, thrust his sword forward, and cried for his army to follow him. His army roared their loyalty. Konda looked upon Minamo, knowing that his treasure was within, and he roared again.

  High overhead, an ominous stream of black emerged from the academy. At first Konda thought it was a thundercloud or magical storm conjured by the yamabushi. It swelled to enormous size in seconds, billowing larger than the building it came from. Then the black mass began to descend toward the battlefield.

  Three eyes opened in the top of the buzzing black cloud, and two sweeping horns extended up through the clouds. Konda felt two rushes, one of disgust at the vile creature before him and one of anticipation, for today he would utterly destroy it.

  “Men of Eiganjo,” he bellowed, “behold! The gluttonous Beast of Chaos! Once we have destroyed him, victory will be ours!”

  The ghost army roared again. The moth-riders banked away from the school and streaked toward their new target, a cold, yellow sheen already glimmering on the moth’s powdered wings.

  Konda paused once, for the briefest moment, to appreciate the noise, the splendor, and the sheer scale of what he was about to accomplish. Then the daimyo spurred his horse and charged forward to meet the enemy.

  “Did you really think I didn’t know?”

  Toshi noticed Hidetsugu’s joy was rapidly becoming more manic and dangerous. Kiku still regarded Toshi with eyes of hate, but she had also taken a few steps back and away from the ogre.

  As he often did when speaking to Toshi, Hidetsugu had sat himself cross-legged so he and the ochimusha were at eye-level. The ogre rocked back and forth slightly as he spoke.

  “I knew the very moment you slithered out from under your mark, kanji mage.” He yanked the metal plate off of his shoulder, revealing the hyozan triangle branded deep into his flesh. Hidetsugu then reached forward and hauled Toshi out of the yamabushi’s grip, holding the ochimusha by his left hand. Toshi’s sleeve immediately slid back, revealing the false hyozan mark. Hidetsugu spit on the forgery and smeared it with his thumb.

  “Ours was a blood oath, Toshi. Do you remember? I told you vengeance is based on blood and demands blood as payment. The oath would not have worked without our blood to power the ritual. My blood became steam under the branding iron, but I gave it willingly according to our deal. I offered you the brand and a sharp knife, but you chose the tattoo.” The ogre snorted derisively. “You took the coward’s way out, Toshi, but you still bled. With every tap of the needle, with every new drop of ink, you gave a drop of blood in return.

  “Blood bound us, Toshi: your blood, my blood. Our oath. We are the true pillars of the hyozan. These others,” he waved at Kiku, “they didn’t bleed for their oaths. You cut into their flesh and you recited your silly spells, but they are subordinate, mere reflections of the oath we two maintain.” Hidetsugu rocked forward so he was face-to-face with Toshi. “And now you have abandoned it. And you are mine.” He released Toshi’s arm and dropped him into the waiting clutches of the yamabushi.

  Hidetsugu rocked back and leaned on his hands behind him. “Hurt him, my hunters. By now Toshi has regained enough of his faculties to become a nuisance. Shorten his breath.”

  Toshi gasped as something hard thudded into his stomach. It felt like the end of a staff, but it could have just been the yamabushi’s fist.

  From the other direction, the rock-hard edge of the other yamabushi’s hand slammed into Toshi’s windpipe. The ochimusha gagged and thrashed as the yamabushi kept his hands pinned behind him.

  “Good. Now bring him here.”

  They dragged him forward, dazed and choking, and then forced him to stand straight before the o-bakemono.

  Hidetsugu leaned forward, lifting Toshi’s head up with a single thick finger. “I’m curious, Toshi. How long have you been working on a way to kill me in spite of our oath?”

  Toshi’s eyes flickered. “Not long,” he grunted. “Since you sicced your oni dog on me over Oboro.”

  The ogre’s face widened in honest surprise. “That is very disappointing,” he said. “I’ve known how to kill you without breaking the oath since before it was cast.”

  Toshi’s retort died in his throat.

  “Didn’t you know that? Didn’t it ever strike you that I might have outsmarted you from the very beginning?”

  “Lying,” Toshi croaked. “No way out.”

  Hidetsugu smiled wide, displaying his terrible teeth. “Here,” he said. “I’ll demonstrate.”

  The ogre stopped his hand as it was about to close around Toshi’s head. “Hang on. You quit the gang, didn’t you? I could pop your head like a fat tick and the curse would never be invoked.”

  Toshi guessed what was coming, but he couldn’t summon the breath fast enough to warn Kiku. In a blur of motion, Hidetsugu lashed out with his other hand and pinned Kiku within his massive fist. She struggled and squirmed, but he lifted her like a child’s toy without even glancing at her. Held as she was, she could neither reach her throwing axes nor raise her hands to create a flower.

  “Ours is a blood oath,” Hidetsugu said again. “And so requires blood. You’ve always interpreted the spell as cursing us if we harmed or tried to harm one another. But I crafted it specifically to work only if one of us spilled the other’s blood. Cut my throat, crush me under tons of rock, or run me through and the curse will claim you. But if we managed to kill one another without actually shedding any blood …”

  Toshi watched the muscles in Hidetsugu’s arm ripple as he slowly clenched his hand around Kiku. Incrementally, bit by tortuous bit, he was crushing the life from her.

  “Her bones won’t break,” the ogre said. “Her heart won’t burst. But if I squeeze her just so.” He shut one eye and made a show of concentrating. “I can prevent her from breathing in. Once I get the grip just right, all I have to do is hold it until her face turns blue.”

  Kiku moaned and her breathing became ever more shallow. Soon she was gasping soundlessly, her mouth wide open and her eyes bulging.

  Hidetsugu cocked his head. “Surely you’ve noticed how often I’ve picked you up and squeezed you during our long partnership? That was me testing my theory … as well as my grip. I soon figured out exactly how hard I had to squeeze. After that … it was just fun.”

  The ogre suddenly loosened his fist. Kiku sucked in huge gasps of air as Toshi forced himself to breathe.

  A thunderous explosion shook the building. Toshi thought he could hear the sounds of battle, of men shouting as magical energy sizzled in the air.