The chill in Konda’s chest expanded. “Then you are … are you ….”

  “I am she who you took from the kakuriyo twenty years ago. You brought me to this world to make you immortal, to make you invincible. To make sure the name ‘Konda’ would never fade from the memory of Kamigawa. Rejoice, Daimyo. Your goals are all about to be realized.”

  Kyodai opened her mouth and bared her sharp serpent’s fangs. Konda had time to utter one final word, one last plea before the Taken One struck.

  “Please,” he said.

  Kyodai’s tongue lashed out, stretching across the distance separating her from Konda. The daimyo barely saw the sharpened tips as they shot toward his face and punctured both eyes.

  Konda screamed and staggered back. He clapped his hands over his face and stumbled to one knee. He tried to speak, but his tongue had become like a block of ice. His throat closed and he felt his joints stiffening. His hands grew rough and hard against the skin of his face, and it took all of his strength to pull them down to his sides. He lost all feeling in his legs, though he could still twist and jerk from the waist up. Slowly, he lost this last iota of mobility, and his body became frozen and inert.

  Strangely, Konda found he could still see. He was completely immobile, paralyzed and speechless, but he could see and hear perfectly well. Apart from a strange, fish bowl distortion across his field of vision, his view of the clearing had not changed.

  Kyodai strolled toward him, her face filling his view. “Behold,” she said, “the enduring legacy of Daimyo Konda. His name and his face will never be forgotten, for they shall be preserved here for all time.”

  The fierce woman’s face turned away. Konda heard her say, “Of course, they’ll have to be very, very patient to see all of him.” When she turned back around, Kyodai’s black, vertical pupils almost eclipsed her yellow eyes. Her lips were drawn back in a feral snarl, and she was hissing in pure hatred.

  Kyodai lunged forward and drove her fist through Konda’s petrified face, shattering his head and the upper half of his chest. There was a momentary pause, and then she struck again, crushing the rest of his body to gravel and dust.

  Konda did not die. Instead, the countless pieces of his eyes continued to relay visual images to his shattered brain. He saw not a single picture of the forest and the woman who destroyed him, but a million bits of color and texture, all overlapping and disjointed so that there was no way to clarify the image.

  “I know you can hear me,” Kyodai said. She was correct, though now her unsettling triple voice was a nightmarish chorus of disorganized and painful noise. “Your daughter has asked me to return in twenty years to see if I feel the scales have been balanced. For her sake, I have agreed.”

  The kaleidoscope images of Kyodai all leaned down over the debris that had been Konda. The mass of echoing voices whispered savagely, almost spitting the words. “They will never be balanced. I will return, Daimyo Konda. But I will never forgive you.”

  Kyodai rose and turned away. Konda tried to scream, to release the rage and horror building up within him.

  Instead, the pieces of the daimyo’s broken body remained as silent as stone.

  Toshi bowed as Kyodai approached him. “If you have something similar in store for me,” he said, “I prefer to get it over with quickly.”

  Kyodai returned his bow. “I have no plans to punish you, Toshi Umezawa. We are connected by blood, you, Michiko, and I. I know you better than anyone, and not only because your blood opened my way to freedom. I was with you in Minamo, and in the wilds of eastern Jukai. You are no better or worse than other men, but your actions were helpful to me. You saved me from the tower when no one else could. You kept me from the daimyo and O-Kagachi alike. For that, I am grateful.”

  Michiko suddenly appeared alongside Kyodai in a sparkling sheet of purple light. “It has been done?”

  Kyodai nodded. “It has.”

  Toshi noticed Pearl-Ear and Sharp-Ear standing nearby. Since he had nothing else to say, he asked the question that was clearly on their minds. “What will you two do now?”

  Michiko answered. “We have replaced O-Kagachi as the guardian between worlds,” she said. “It will take some time for the effects of this to be felt. The Kami War will continue for a while, but we will soon show the spirit world that there is no more reason to fight.”

  Kyodai spoke up. “The nature of spirit worship will also change, over time. Michiko and I are far more interested in a blending of the two realms, in sharing each’s assets with the other. This too will take time. There will always be spirits and those who pray to them. We will not change that. But the power of the spirit world, the magic their blessings create, these things will be far more accessible to the people of the utsushiyo.”

  “There is one more enemy you must overcome,” Toshi said. “Mochi, the Smiling Kami of the Crescent Moon.”

  Kyodai looked perplexed, but Michiko nodded. “He is a mischievous moon spirit,” she explained. “He facilitated and encouraged my father’s crime so that his people, the soratami, could profit from it.”

  Kyodai’s yellow eyes narrowed. “And where is this moon kami?”

  “I am here, Lady.” The boyish voice spoke from a cloud of glittering blue dust. A sharp, glowing white smile appeared in the center of the cloud, and the dust coalesced into the moon spirit’s familiar chubby shape.

  “Hail to thee, newly crowned rulers of both worlds. I offer fealty and service from the Smiling Kami of the Crescent Moon.”

  “That’s Mochi,” Toshi said. “He’s prone to flowery speeches.”

  “And Toshi is prone to suspicious accusations. I am not a harmful spirit, O sisters. I am playful and duplicitous, but I have never wished you ill or done you harm. Not by action or omission.”

  “But you did encourage Konda to raid the spirit world.”

  “That was through ignorance and curiosity. I had no idea he would capture a living spirit. I never expected him to seal you up in a room for twenty years. Michiko can tell you: I have helped her several times, always at some risk to myself.”

  “My sister has a kindly disposition,” Kyodai said. “But she and Toshi both view you with suspicion.”

  “I am playful and duplicitous,” Mochi said again, displaying his dazzling moon-white teeth. “If you know Toshi at all, you’ll know he actually admires me on some levels. He just doesn’t like the competition.”

  “I do know Toshi,” Kyodai said. “And there is more truth in his blood than there is on his lips.”

  Mochi’s smile softened. “I’m sorry, Lady. I don’t understand.”

  “Toshi has a blood debt against you,” Kyodai said. “I have tasted it.”

  “No longer,” Mochi said quickly. “The oath has been dissolved.”

  “Oath?” Kyodai said. “I know nothing of oaths. But I have come to understand reckonings.” She turned to the ochimusha. “You have not asked for any sort of reward, Toshi. Not even after I thanked you for all your help. I believe I know what would make you happy. Would you like me to try?”

  “Lady.” Mochi’s smile had grown strained. “Please don’t jest.”

  Toshi looked at the moon spirit. He thought back to all the trouble he’d had with the soratami and their agents. Many who had suffered and died along the way could trace the cause back to the little blue kami with the brilliant smile.

  “Go ahead,” Toshi said. “Try.”

  Kyodai cupped her hands and gazed deeply into them. She was muttering something under her breath. Nearby, Mochi tensed and strained, but he didn’t move.

  “Trying to flee?” Toshi called. “It didn’t help Uyo. I’m betting it won’t help now.”

  A small curl of smoke rose from Kyodai’s hands. The smoke curved into a circle as it rose, forming a tiny vortex. The inverted cone grew taller and wider at the open end, eventually curving toward Mochi. It stopped a few feet from the little blue kami, but the mouth continued to widen until it was taller and broader than Mochi himself.

  A familiar, terrifying chuckle rose from the center of the vortex. Toshi felt a combination of giddy anticipation and mortal dread. If that was were it sounded like …

  Hidetsugu’s leering face appeared in the cone of black smoke. His eyes were whole and they glittered in cruel amusement. Instinctively, Toshi stepped back, but the o-bakemono chided him before his heel left the ground.

  “I see you, blood brother.” The ogre blinked his restored eyes. “You have nothing to fear. In fact, I owe you a huge debt.”

  Toshi relaxed somewhat as Hidetsugu turned back to Mochi. “Speaking of debts …”

  The vortex was an unstable window to wherever Hidetsugu was. Though his head originally filled the cone, the smoke swirled, and cinders flew across the opening until the ogre’s entire body was visible. Hidetsugu wore a black sleeveless robe tied loosely around his waist.

  “We will kill you,” the ogre recited. “We will burn your fields, steal your treasure, destroy your house, and enslave your children. We will murder your spouse, poison your pets, and pass water on the graves of your ancestors. We will do all this, and the only way to avoid it is if we cannot find you.”

  The ogre turned to Toshi and they both said in unison, “We’ve already found you.”

  Mochi continued to smile. “No,” he said gently. “Please, Lady. No.”

  Hidetsugu undid his robe and grabbed the lapels. To Toshi, he said, “For Kobo.”

  Toshi nodded. “For Kobo.”

  Mochi screamed as Hidetsugu opened his vest. Instead of the burly mass of rippling muscles and scar tissue, his chest was a seething mass of black, disembodied jaws. Laughing uproariously, Hidetsugu spread his arms, allowing the horde of hungry mouths to stream out of the smoke vortex and swarm over the moon kami. His soft blue flesh tore beneath their fangs, and he screamed again, bleeding moonlight from a thousand jagged wounds.

  Sharp-Ear, Pearl-Ear, and Michiko turned away. Toshi and Kyodai continued to watch. The savage nightmare lasted only a few seconds, but they were seconds Toshi would remember forever … sometimes with callous glee and sometimes with cold terror.

  When they were done, the oni mouths left no trace of Mochi at all. They consumed the last speck of blood-spattered dirt and swarmed back into the vortex to re-enter Hidetsugu’s body.

  “At last we are through, Toshi Umezawa.” Hidetsugu retied his belt. “The hyozan’s final reckoning is complete.” He bowed. “And to you, sisters,” he said, “you are always welcome in the halls of Chaos. Come visit me if you require a … different perspective.”

  Kyodai bowed. She parted her hands, and the vortex of smoke dissipated into the air.

  Toshi stepped up to the sisters. “If you do not need me any more,” he said, “I will be on my way.”

  Kyodai bowed to him as she had to Hidetsugu. “Farewell, Toshi Umezawa. The world is a far more interesting place with you in it. We will surely meet again.”

  Toshi turned to Michiko and winked. “Boss.”

  Michiko nodded. “Umezawa-san.”

  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.

  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.”