His agents in Eiganjo had told him of Konda’s plan to raid the spirit world as soon as the daimyo consulted them about it. Instead of seeing this as an outrageous blasphemy like any decent kami, Mochi saw only opportunity. Like many spirits who have frequent interaction with the physical world, Mochi had been exposed to his worshippers’ way of thinking. He had experienced enough of their worldview to understand and even share it.

  Konda was intending to disrupt the natural order of things, the balance between physical and spiritual. Such an act would have dangerous, unpredictable repercussions, and so Mochi decided that he would not only allow it, but also facilitate it.

  In the twenty years of strife since Konda made his raid, Mochi had time to reflect on the wisdom of his actions and their true motivations. His introspection revealed three important things: One, he did not know what to expect as a result of Konda’s crime, but he was sure he could capitalize on it for his own benefit; two, if Konda succeeded it meant the oldest and most sacred laws could be broken by someone with enough will and power, which he could capitalize on for his own benefit in the long term; and three, it was a waste of time second-guessing his own genius because he made good decisions even when he didn’t have all the facts.

  A trio of orochi turned on a pursuing soratami and enveloped him in their strong, flexible bodies. Too late to save the warrior, Mochi directed a nearby squad of soratami to avenge their fallen comrade. It pained him to lose his noble followers, but this war was for a great cause, and sacrifices had to be made.

  When the kami attacks started, Mochi knew that Konda’s reign would not survive. The daimyo had done a remarkable job uniting the different peoples behind him, but once he was gone they would undoubtedly fall back into petty skirmishing and tribal warfare. Mochi knew the soratami would be largely unaffected, safe in their cloud cities, but he also thought the soratami destiny was to be more than elite survivors. They were exalted beings who worshiped him, after all. If anyone was fit to rule Kamigawa, it was the moonfolk.

  If he had conceived the plan on his own beforehand, Mochi might have tried to bring Konda down or perhaps even challenge him on the field of battle. The soratami had a far smaller army than the daimyo, but Mochi would put a single one of his warriors against a whole platoon of Konda’s in any situation.

  Once Konda had decided his course, however, it became unnecessary to take action in order to topple him—he had doomed himself by his rash act. It might take decades, even centuries, but eventually the spirit world would come to claim what the Daimyo had stolen. When it did, Mochi intended for the soratami to rise in Konda’s place as the dominant culture in Kamigawa. The soratami armada had stayed primed and ready for years, and could wait another century if necessary.

  Thus, when O-Kagachi manifested and attacked the tower at Eiganjo, Mochi knew his time had come. His moonfolk had been carefully building their base of power in the Takenuma underworld for years, but he had always intended to openly attack the orochi. Of all the tribes in the world, the snakes were the ones with the purest and closest connection to their patron kami. It galled Mochi, but he knew it was true because the snakes and other wild tribes of Jukai were mere beasts. They didn’t have the capacity to examine their choices; they simply saw a powerful spirit that made the trees green and the grass grow and that was enough for them.

  Further, the forest myojin was one of the most violently aggrieved by Konda’s crime. Except for O-Kagachi himself, Life’s Web was the spirit most closely tied to the natural order. Like all beasts she was aggressive, hostile, and fierce when it came to protecting her territory. She would have punished Konda for his actions and undone the damage before Mochi had a chance to make use of it. He had arranged for Life’s Web to be diminished so that O-Kagachi would have time to manifest, and now Mochi was determined to wipe out her followers so that she would never rise to challenge him again.

  A flicker of regret marred Mochi’s celebratory mood. Dealing with Life’s Web had been a tricky business and required his personal intervention, but it had been effective. The price he paid for removing the most dangerous obstacle to his plans was the introduction of an even more troubling player: Toshi Umezawa.

  The ochimusha had snatched the Taken One from under O-Kagachi’s nose just as the great serpent was about to level Eiganjo with Konda inside. Worse, Toshi brought the prize to Oboro’s doorstep and even had the temerity to attack Mochi himself. If he weren’t protected by the Myojin of Night’s Reach, Toshi would never have been able to cause so much trouble, but with such a powerful patron, he was a dangerous provocateur.

  Night’s Reach, now there was a spirit that had traffic with the physical world. Even the dumbest forest brute understands the power of darkness and either curses or blesses it, depending on its position in the predator-prey relationship. She was old and vast, more so even than Mochi himself, and she was a puzzle to him even now. She had supported Mochi against Life’s Web, but now Night’s acolyte actively worked directly against Crescent Moon.

  The little blue kami smiled, bathing the surrounding forest in pure moonlight. Toshi had been a problem, but even with the support of his patron he had not been able to stop the soratami’s ascension. There were thousands of dead orochi who could provide mute but unshakeable testimony to Mochi’s success. There had been setbacks, of course, but Minamo, Oboro, and virtually all of Kamigawa was a small price to pay if he and his could rebuild the world to their liking and rule it as they saw fit.

  Smiling, Mochi rose up into the sky. In the trees below, the advancing soratami were setting mystical fire to a large pile of brush and dead snakes. It had been a dry winter, and without magical help the fire would consume uncountable acres of living forest, along with every living thing therein.

  The moon kami spun slowly, drinking in the full panoramic view of the slaughter. Every life lost, every snake cut down and every tree burned diminished his enemy and empowered him. When the snakes were all dead or routed, Mochi would construct a new capital in the clouds right above this very spot. It would commemorate this moment when he, the Smiling Kami of the Crescent Moon, had seen the shape of soratami victory. Let fire and carnage and the ultimate spirit beast raze the world down to the bare soil. The moon would go on shining, and the soratami would remain above it all.

  Sparkling as he rotated, Mochi flashed another blinding smile and disappeared.

  Mochi reappeared in the largest cloud vessel in the armada. The massive conveyance was as large as a warship and had not descended to the forest. This was the soratami headquarters and flagship, and it was buzzing with activity.

  Two soratami women were waiting for him in the innermost chamber. The room was lavishly decorated with bolts of luxurious cloth and huge satin couch-pillows. The women did not speak as they lounged around a lacquered table. At the center of the table was a shallow bowl filled with vivid blue liquid. A single candle floated on top.

  Both women had the soratami’s exquisite white skin. They wore their hair in a tightly wound pile that was somehow unruly and severe at the same time. Their long ears were each wrapped tightly around their heads.

  On the left sat Uyo, the silent prophet. Most soratami were androgynous, and Uyo was no exception, though her features were especially fine. She never physically spoke, but Uyo’s voice carried more authority than any other single soratami in the entire world. She was the high priestess of a powerful cult who had honed the power of their minds. Uyo herself had the unique ability to see into the future, though her visions were difficult to interpret. Mochi and Uyo had been a great help to one another, he assisting her with interpreting her visions, and she providing him with advance information that only a prophet could know.

  On the right sat Chiyo, one of Uyo’s most talented students. She had also had especially elegant features, but lately she had taken to wearing a large, metallic mask of the crescent moon that completely hid half of her face. The upper point of the crescent hung high above her forehead while the lower jutted out below her chin. The edge of the curve descended across her face to cover one eye, her nose, and half her mouth. There was no opening for her to see or breathe through, but the surface of the moon-mask was covered in glittering, incandescent dust that wafted around her head like a halo.

  The visible half of Chiyo’s face still displayed her strong features, but the muscles were tight and her expression dour. She had barely survived the oni’s initial assault on Oboro and would have been killed if not for the city’s defenders. She never shared the details of what happened to her, but Mochi knew. Out of respect for her years of dedicated service, he had never openly questioned her account of being badly mauled by an oni. It was technically true, after all, but not entirely true. Still, whatever the cause, she now believed herself disfigured and had adopted the crescent mask to both soothe her pride and honor her kami.

  Chiyo had always been one of the fiercest soratami, intimidating even the most seasoned warriors, but the mask made her even more daunting. Mochi intended to give her a city of her own to rule once the soratami nation was established, and he expected her to become as powerful as a queen before she was half Uyo’s age.

  Greetings, my children. Mochi always hailed Uyo and her followers mind-to-mind, as a sign of his personal favor and to keep their discussions private.

  Greetings, Mochi-sama. Unlike her pale and stoic exterior, Uyo’s inner voice was rich and throaty, alive with intellectual force and just a hint of carnal possibilities. How goes the war?

  Splendidly, thank you. Though I see you have something even more relevant to share.

  Uyo turned to her student. Chiyo’s visible eye was a cold, cruel blue and her inner voice was seething and bitter.

  He has come, Chiyo sent. Toshi Umezawa.

  The ochimusha, here? I applaud his energy, if not his judgement. Has he …?

  He has. The Taken One is nearby.

  Well, this is an interesting development. What do you propose to do?

  Chiyo turned away angrily. Uyo’s throaty voice smoothly broke in and she said, Chiyo has some definite ideas on that. Suffice to say she wants to kill him with all available speed. She has already asked for a squad of shinobi and bushi to accompany her, but she is ready to go alone if you so wish it.

  I do not. Mochi’s cheeks bunched up as he grinned. This is a matter of some concern, but nothing that demands such drastic action. I have a better plan in mind for our friend.

  Uyo nodded. You see, my student? Mochi-sama always has a better plan.

  Chiyo’s eye narrowed. Then I ask to be a part of that plan.

  The little blue kami folded his hands over his belly and rose into the air. His voice was playful. You are, my dear. Intimately and necessarily, you already are.

  Toshi slipped into the wilds of East Jukai unnoticed. He was intent on staying unseen and undisturbed until he had time to recover after his ordeal in Minamo and his flight from Konda. The journey from the waterfall to the woods took all night and most of the morning, but in the breaking dawn he was able to find a hidden glen that could conceal him and the moth.

  After landing and tethering the moth, Toshi carved a series of protective kanji on the trees leading to his bivouac. His ribs burned with every breath and he had trouble raising his stiff arms, so the symbols were rough. They would alert him if anyone came too close, however, and that was all he really needed right now.

  When he felt safe, Toshi dined on borrowed soldier’s rations and sat with his back against a century cedar. Fatigue forced his eyelids down, but he struggled to stay alert. He found it difficult to take his eyes off the stone disk for fear of missing it move again. Part of him wanted to hear more of what the Taken One had to say, and the rest of him was just plain scared of it. It had finally stopped glowing and steaming after it called out to him, but that did nothing to boost his spirits. For all he knew, that just meant it was saving its strength to break free. No wonder the daimyo went mad after spending twenty years with it.

  He imagined Konda sitting in his tower alone with the stone disk, endlessly staring as he waited for it to speak or move again. How long, Toshi thought, before my eyes start drifting out of my head like the daimyo’s? There were times when it seemed about to come to life, but they only came when the Taken One was in the corner of Toshi’s eye. If he looked at it directly, it remained inanimate, a lifeless chunk of shaped stone.

  Gingerly, Toshi tested his ribs. His kanji magic was extremely limited when it came to healing, but he carried enough medicinal herbs and magical charms to speed his recovery. He couldn’t cure himself in a single stroke as he had with the oni dog’s venom, but he could encourage the bones to knit more quickly.

  His eyelids fluttered and his head fell back. Though he hit hard enough to crack the bark, he barely noticed the blow. The major downside of his healing treatment was that it demanded long, uninterrupted hours of sleep to be effective. As his face lolled forward and consciousness faded, Toshi still fought to stay alert. He had too many enemies and too important a burden to let his guard down.

  I will stay awake, Toshi thought, even as his eyelids closed and he proved himself a liar.

  Toshi awoke on a barren field of gray stone. A strong, gritty wind kept his eyes nearly shut. He shielded his face and looked around, still groggy from the healing medicine.

  He was no longer in Jukai. There was nothing on the plain of rock except him—no moth, no Taken One, no forest glen. Toshi turned a full circle and saw only an endless stretch of dull granite.

  “Hey,” he called. The world vanished into the cold dry air, barely even echoing off the flat stony ground.

  There was no reply except a stinging gust of wind-driven rock particles. He had seen a great many bizarre and terrible things, so now his mind ran wild with potential explanations for what had happened to him.

  Night’s Reach might have brought him here for one of their rare face-to-face conversations, or to give him a new task now that he had possession of the Taken One. But that wasn’t likely, because Night’s honden was a gleaming platform of white against an endless black void. This place didn’t look or feel familiar.

  Konda or O-Kagachi might have imprisoned him by some spell or artifice so that Toshi couldn’t keep running with the Taken One. Both of them would like nothing more than for the stone disk to stay in one place long enough for them to claim it. But Konda’s army did not usually rely on spells in battle, and O-Kagachi seemed far too vast and alien to bother with anything less than broad strokes. It was more likely to flatten the entire forest into toothpicks than to pin down one ochimusha at the center of it.

  Or, the Taken One itself might have switched places with him, so that it was loose in Kamigawa and he was trapped in the stone disk. No immediate counterargument presented itself. In fact, if he put himself in the stolen kami’s place, he could easily see how it might leap at the first chance it had to escape. Assuming its earlier warm words were only a ruse, being swapped was looking like the most likely explanation. Even if it did think it owed him for taking it away from Konda, being kidnapped and held immobile for twenty years would make any entity irrational.

  “Uh,” he said, “Taken One? Spirit in the stone disk? Have you brought me here?” Toshi spun around, trying to see in all directions. “Where is here, anyway?”

  The wind rose. Over the rustling howl in his ears, Toshi heard a cold, callow voice say, “You are where you should be. You have died, Toshi Umezawa, and all that remains is to determine which hell claims your soul.”

  Toshi blinked. “I don’t feel dead. But then again, I wouldn’t know.”

  The voice seemed thrown, but it soon spoke again with the same eerie authority. “This place asks the same question of all who pass through it. Your answer will determine your status in the next world. Are you ready?”

  “No,” Toshi said. “Absolutely not.”

  “Nonetheless, I must ask.” The disembodied voice paused, then said, “What have you done to deserve your reward?”

  Toshi kept shuffling his feet, turning in tight circles as he scanned the horizon. “How long can I think about it?”

  “Do not toy with this place. Your answer, now.”

  “But I don’t understand the question.”

  After a pause, Toshi guessed the voice would not be drawn into further debate. He sighed and said, “Okay. I have tried to lead a virtuous life. I paid my debts on time. I honored the promises I made, each to the letter. I avoided material pleasures … well, I didn’t take more than my share of material pleasures. Actually, let’s move on from material pleasures. In general,” he said with a flourish, “I meant well.”

  “And you have nothing to recant? Nothing to regret or set to rights?”

  “Nope,” Toshi said. “I mean, obviously, mistakes were made. But in all, I’m quite satisfied with me.”

  “You are a liar,” the voice said calmly. “You are a thief and a thug. You have committed violence for monetary gain and for its own sake. You have blasphemed the spirits and broken the laws of man. I name you villain, outlaw, oath-breaker, and murderer.”

  Toshi pursed his lips. “Is that you, mom? I wondered where you ended up.”

  “Silence. Look upon the victims of your crimes and laugh, if you can.”

  The wind swirled and became visible, white streams of force curling and breaking like a wave. A blinding glare filled Toshi’s view of the barren world, and when it faded, a long line of people stood before him.

  Boss Uramon was the first, with her sallow eyes and motionless face. “You swore to serve me,” she said. “Instead, you betrayed me. You broke your oath to my reckoners. You abandoned your comrades in arms and cowardly refused to fight. You stole the power of the Shadow Gate from me. And when you were done, you killed me and scores of my loyal servants.”

  “I didn’t kill you,” Toshi said. “Kiku did.”

  A sneer flickered across Uramon’s lip as the boss walked past Toshi and vanished in the wind.