Ren had come back as a ghost to haunt Kuro. And Kuro wasn’t a human who, if the ghost didn’t succeed outright in killing, would grow old and eventually die. Kuro would live for centuries, haunted by a single-minded, obsessive Sun Prince.

Ren had been tenacious in life. Kuro shuddered to think what he’d be like dead.

Kuro threw himself off the futon into a bow. “Please forgive me, Ren. I didn’t mean to kill you. I mean, I know I agreed.”

Cool air shifted as the ghost crossed the teahouse, driving icicles into Kuro.

“But I ran. I didn’t want to really kill you, even if the Shogun did give me a shrine, and I should never have trusted him in the first place and—”

The ghost towered over Kuro. This was it. The very first act of many years of haunting to come.

“And — and I didn’t want you to die, and I especially didn’t want you to come back as a ghost rather than proceed in peace to the next life, and I don’t know what I was thinking, since of course you couldn’t sleep peacefully like this, and I should have known you’d come back as a ghost, and a ghost powerful enough to cross the onmyouji’s barrier—”

Wait, powerful enough to cross the barrier?

Arms curled over Kuro’s back, and then a chest and head collapsed on him. Kuro silently screamed, too frightened to make a noise.

But the arms weren’t cold like a ghost’s, and the chest and head were still firmly attached to a body. A warm, human body.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Ren said. “I thought you’d died too.”

Too? Kuro lifted his head, but Ren’s weight pressed him down. All he saw was the mud ground into Ren’s pretend-servant kimono. “But you’re not dead. Right?”

“I’m alive.” He didn’t sound happy at the prospect. “I thought… You left me.” Ren swallowed. “It doesn’t matter. I grabbed the Kusanagi and snuck out past the guard and tried to follow your trail. But I couldn’t find you.”

Kuro hadn’t seen or smelled Ren around the Riverbank Settlement, but perhaps after all of Kuro’s lectures, he hadn’t thought Kuro would deign to stumble down there.

“I was going to return home. But then…” Ren trailed off, and rose off of Kuro.

Ren didn’t need to say it. Kuro rose to his knees. “The Night Parade attacked.”

Ren nodded, the lump in his throat bobbing. “I was too late.”

So he knew his family had died in the attack. Had he guessed at how valiantly his mother had fought, trying to keep Ren safe? Dying for no reason, Kuro reminded himself. Ren hadn’t even been there. “I’m sorry.”

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

Ren’s lips curled up, but Ren wasn’t really smiling. The edges trembled. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

The words cut through Kuro’s chest. He’d spent the day enjoying the rewards from the deaths of Ren’s family. “You didn’t approach the Shogun’s men, did you?”

If he had, then Ren’s life was forfeit. The Shogun would know he still lived. Hell, Kuro’s life was forfeit for failing the Shogun’s mission.

Ren looked away. “There was nothing I could do to help them. There wasn’t — I couldn’t find your body. I thought maybe you’d survived. So I went looking for you.”

“And found me here.” In the Shogun’s palace.

“I’m so relieved Uncle Gorou took you in.”

Kuro froze.

Ren got to his feet, but swayed. He clasped his hands around Kusanagi’s hilt. “I must speak with him. We must rally a force to go after the Night Parade.”

This was definitely Ren. Kuro couldn’t think of a more foolish thing to do. Kuro grabbed Ren’s legs and held on, refusing to allow Ren to stumble toward the entrance. “No, no, no. You can’t.”

“I have to,” he said. “My mother and sisters cannot pass peacefully into the next life until they’re dead.”

He sighed in exasperation. “But the Shogun is the one who tried to kill you.”

Ren stilled under Kuro’s grip. For a moment, Kuro thought he’d fallen unconscious standing up. Then Ren said, “Don’t make such tasteless jokes.”

“I’m not joking. Your precious Shogun arranged that attack.”

“Kuro,” he snapped.

“Ren, listen to me. The onmyouji lowered the Western Barrier to allow them to cross.”

“He wouldn’t do that. The barriers protect everyone.”

“Because he knew the Night Parade would attack the Imperial Palace. Because he’s trying to kill you.”

Ren placed one hand on Kuro’s shoulder, the other on his head. He pressed down, hard.

“He didn’t send me to you because you asked.” Kuro held on as tightly as possible. “He sent me because I’m a Dark Kitsune. I bring disaster and topple emperors.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ren snapped. He kicked Kuro hard in the stomach. Kuro let go, gasping, and Ren gained several feet in distance.

“I’m the only one who can kill you without the Sun Goddess’s reprisal,” Kuro said. “The Shogun found out what I was, and sent me to you.”

“Don’t…” Ren clenched his teeth, ripping his head away as if he couldn’t bear the sight of Kuro. “Don’t lie to me.”

“The Shogun wants you dead—”

“NO!”

Kuro hunched, stretching his ears to the teahouse entrance, but he couldn’t hear past the barriers. Hopefully, his quarantine had provided enough distance that no one had heard Ren’s yell.

Ren paced beside the panels, his long legs covering the distance in four steps. He jerked his head, as if trying to deny Kuro. He reached the panels again, but instead of whirling back around, his shoulders drooped.

He rested his fingers on the rice paper. Kuro inhaled to call to him, but Ren’s fingers tightened until he punctured the screen. He clawed at the hole. The tearing paper howled as Ren wailed.

When Ren fell silent, Kuro said, “Ren—”

But Ren wailed again, shredding the panels as if they trapped him there. After petering out again, he tipped his head back, chest heaving as he stared up. But it wasn’t enough, for he screamed again. Ren’s heart bled over the mats for everyone to see. The Shogun — the man Ren loved — was trying to kill him.

“Ren,” he said. “I’m sorry—”

Ren whirled on him. “You’re a demon.”

“I’m a fox,” he corrected. A soon-to-be god.

“You lie,” he said, “like humans drink water.”

Ren drew his sword. “Rejoice, Kuro. You were right. I admit it. I was naïve.”

“You believe me?” Kuro stared at the length of steel.

The sword darted as fast as a sparrow. The tip pressed against Kuro’s throat.

One twitch, one gulp, and Kuro’s life would bleed onto the tatami mats.

His voice rasping to keep his throat Buddha still, Kuro whispered, “That won’t kill me.”

“But it will hurt.”

And that didn’t include what else Ren might do while Kuro sprawled helpless on the mats.

Ren dinted Kuro’s skin with his blade. “Tell me where the Night Parade is hiding.”