As promised, a guard of oni lined the corridor outside his den. But slipping out with notice was easy. Kuro just waited until morning twilight, when demons got twitchy from the impending reappearance of the Sun Goddess in the sky and hid themselves away while they were at their weakest. The corridors were empty all the way to Ren’s room. As for Ren, his futon was folded neatly to the side, the blankets having long gone cold, if Ren had even slept there that night.

Finding the Kusanagi fragment took more time. It wasn’t tucked under the futon, or on top of the chest of drawers. Many of the drawers seemed too small to house half a sword, but it had been so long since he’d last seen it, he checked them all anyway.

Maybe Kuro hadn’t saved half. Maybe he’d only saved a quarter. A fraction. An inch.

He finally found it wedged behind the drawers, exactly as he remembered. A length of steel ending in a sharp point, as long as his finger to his elbow. Why Ren had hidden it there, Kuro could only guess. Either for safekeeping, as it’d take a while for a nosey demon to find it, or, Kuro hated to think, because it was too useless to bear looking at.

Kuro wrapped the Kusanagi in a cotton cloth he’d cut from an underkimono, and knotted another strip to hang the bundle around his back. He tied the strap loose enough to shift to his true self. Hopefully, he’d be able to make the journey in his human form. If he had to reveal himself… Kuro shuddered. It’d be open season on the black kitsune. Demons would probably think him a delicacy.

He snuck out of the castle grounds, walking back down the mountain through the series of fortresses he’d last seen as a pretend prisoner of the samurai. The beech and maples trees had long since lost their leaves. The giant cedar and cypress remained green along the tops of the mountains. It smelled like snow.

At the bottom, one well-trampled path led back to the Capital, while another weed-covered trail sparkling with frost headed west. Kuchisake had only given him the vague direction of West, but between his sharp fox sense of direction and that humans wouldn’t be able to shut up about the glory — or disaster — of having a god staying nearby, he’d find the Storm God, easy.

He hiked for a day, swivelling his head at every sound, but the mountain was quiet. Peaceful. He plucked a few remnant leaves from the barren trees to refill his stash, but it was not nearly enough for comfort. As the sun set, he found a cave for shelter, and after having a poor night’s sleep as every snap of a twig made him think a demon had sniffed him out, he headed out again.

Snow began to fall an hour after dawn, the clouds darkening the world but softening the shadows between the cypress and rocks. The path, dug out of rock, hugged the side of the mountain.

At mid-morning, he felt the tale-tell prickle of his fur rising on the back of his neck.

Something watched him.

He tensed, but forced his shoulders down. He could do this. He’d escaped demons before, albeit in a much smaller, more easily hidden form. Tall cypress trees wrapped around him, offering both shelter and danger. So many places for a demon to hide, to sneak up on Kuro without being seen.

He picked up his pace, wishing he’d taken his half-fox form while he’d had the chance. His fox ears would have picked up tiny noises better. The trail wound downward, and the slopes steepened. He scanned the trees for movement, but snowflakes whirled through the air, catching his eye and distracting him.

“Maybe it was just the wind,” Kuro whispered to himself, as if that would make it sound more likely, and less wrong. Only his kimono protected him from the cold. He hadn’t thought to find a straw cloak before leaving the castle, or even bring one of his blankets. A chill wind brushing his neck could feel like an observer.

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But all his reassurances felt like a lie. Kuro swallowed, and felt for the cache of leaves in his kimono sleeve. He tucked a leaf into his collar, easy to grab and transform, then race up through the trees.

Maybe he should transform now… But no, safer for a demon to underestimate him, and safer for him to walk as to not peek a demon’s predatory instincts to chase him when they might otherwise leave him be. A human form was also better for any humans he might cross. So Kuro trudged forward, human ears perked for the slightest sound of something hunting him.

The path twisted around the side of the mountain, and widened into a ledge thick with the skeletons of trees, sapling and low-growing brush. The mountain beyond rose gently enough for Kuro to scrabble up. Better. Kuro adjusted the Kusanagi fragment, glancing back at it and swore. The cotton had slid away, revealing the rutted end where the sword had broken.

Before he could do anything, though, a voice called.

“Stranger.”

Kuro froze.

The voice rose and fell like the howling wind. “Come with me, dear stranger. It’s not safe in these mountains.”

He whirled, snapping his teeth at the figure while reaching for the leaf.

Behind him on the path, a woman reached for him, a heavy straw cloak protecting her from the snow, but her straw hat still revealed lustrous black hair that Kuro would kill for his transformations to have, and a round face as pale as Kuchisake’s Noh mask. Her lips were red like rosehips against a snow drift. The kind of woman that mortal men would drop to their knees to write poetry about, to claim that she must be a princess hidden in disguise.

If Kuro could transform to look like that, he would be a happy fox.

“You must be so cold, stranger.” The woman beckoned him with a perfectly pale, perfectly slender hand. “Come with me. Let me warm you up.”

Kuro’s shoulders dropped like the mountainside snow banks melting in spring. “Oh, good! For a second there, I thought you were a threat.”

The woman froze as Kuro laughed.

“But you’re just a Yuki Onna, a snow woman. Completely harmless.” Kuro glanced up. “At least to me.” Idiotic, sex-starved mortal men, on the other hand, would follow those tapering fingers anywhere.

Her lip pulled back, revealing sharp teeth.

“Don’t bother.” Kuro swung the wrapped Kusanagi under one elbow and yanked up the cotton, folding it under one strap to secure it. “I’m fine. Look. I even have my own fur coat.”

Kuro reached into his collar, extracting one pointed maple leaf. In a burst of smoke, he transformed into his true self. The Kusanagi bounced against his back as he shuddered it back into place. If a Yuki Onna was the worst threat this mountain offered, then Kuro would take advantage of four legs and a fur coat.

When Kuro waved his three black tails at her, the Yuki Onna actually cringed and backed up. She kept her wide eyes and tiny pupils on him even as she moved. As if she was afraid of him and his patchy tails.

“Oh yes!” Kuro crowed. “Bow before me! For I am the Sun Prince’s familiar, and way too much for you to handle.”

Snapping his jaw at her was petty. That was fine. He’d never really considered himself above all that. He did resist laughing as she stumbled away, and while watching her flee might have been satisfying, he had more important matters to take care of. He bounded ahead on the trail.

Hiking through the mountains was so much easier with four legs! He flew down a trail that would have taken his human legs an hour or more to traverse. The snow fell harder, swirling in his eyes, but who needed eyes when he had his wonderful nose, picking out the scent of the dirt path and the occasional hibernating mouse, through the deepening snow. He wagged his tails and barked in joy.

Ahead, the trail joined another from lower on the mountainside. A female voice wafted up, muted by the falling snow. Kuro pricked his ears, and slowed, crouching on the trail just above the juncture, where the tree shadows still hid him and the voice clarified into words.

More Yuki Onna? If Kuro had been in human form, he would have laughed himself silly. As it was, his three tails pounded the trail behind him. The Yuki Onna must be pretty desperate to continue hunting him. He’d crush them beneath his paws.

A male voice followed the female. Kuro froze. His tails didn’t feel like wagging anymore. He recognised those voices. The female one was no Yuki Onna. And the male…

Ren and Yumi had found him.