At this rate, Kuro was going to have to bestow a status he’d never granted a human before. Yumi was useful.

And not just usefully stupid, handing over their coins and food with minimal manipulation. But useful as in actually helping Kuro.

Left on his own, Kuro couldn’t have found his way through the maze of corridors, apartments and gardens to the opposite side of the complex. Not before a blood-stained Yusuke captured him.

Yumi knelt and slid open the panel, but entered rather than let Kuro through first. He slid it closed behind them. They didn’t need any accidental witnesses.

The room wasn’t the treasury, unfortunately. It would have been nice to have a bit of extra coin until they got out of the Capital. Half the room were bare planks, the other half raised up into a tatami-covered dais for a bureaucrat’s desk. A desk covered in checkpoint passes.

There must have been a hundred. Kuro bit his lip, but that didn’t keep him from grinning. A small fortune just laid out for anyone to take.

Yumi picked one up. The passes were slices of wood, the edges at either side cut off into points, with a tassel on one end for tying it to kimono. Human scribbles — characters, he reminded himself, had been burned into the wood around two crests — one in the middle, which Kuro didn’t recognise, and one at the end of the characters belonging to the Shogun. She frowned as she rubbed her thumb over the middle crest.

“Find a basket.” He hopped onto the platform.

She jerked her head. “A basket?”

“Or a backpack frame,” he said. “I’m not picky.”

“Why?” she asked. “We have what we need.”

“Um… Because if we take them all, then we disrupt the Shogun’s plans.” Oh sly fox, brilliant! “Exactly. And you do want to disrupt the Shogun’s evil plans, right? You want to make him pay for tricking your poor brother.”

Her eye ticked at his last few words, but she nodded and checked in the lacquered cabinet on the far side of the desk.

He crawled to the other cabinet. Even a cloth would help. They could bundle them up. He might have to leave behind a few, but even a fraction of the passes represented a fortune.

The door to the office slid open. A boy walked in, two swords at his hip. “Haku, I need three more passes. Apparently tying knots is beyond some samurai’s ability—”

He stopped talking when he noticed they weren’t Haku. His eyes flashed past Yumi as any upper rank human ignored a servant, to pin themselves on Kuro. “You.”

Kuro wrinkled his nose. He didn’t think intruding and sneaking through the Shogun’s private things should require the boy to insult him like that.

Wait, Kuro recognised that freshly plucked head. The boy-samurai from the Eastern Shrine. The boy-samurai that Kuro had crashed into, who had then blamed Kuro for ruining his chances with the uncaring lady.

The boy-samurai’s eyes slid to the mountain of passes, and then back to Kuro. This human was so easy to read. It was almost like someone had lit twin lanterns in the boy’s eyes as he put one and one together. A fox plus a treasure trove… He reached for his sword.

Steel sang as the boy drew it an inch. Kuro glanced behind him, looking for another way out. There were none. He’d have to lure the boy from the door.

But the boy-samurai didn’t get any further than an inch. Before Kuro swung his head back around, he heard the crunch. He looked back in time to see the boy-samurai crumple and then fall to the ground. Yumi stood behind him, clutching a wood frame with a woven basket attached.

“I found a backpack,” she said.

He sighed in relief. “Yes, you did.”

“And my fists are effective, even on humans.”

Kuro pressed his lips shut rather than comment on that. He was sure that most creatures would crumple after being hit by that wooden frame. He waved for her to bring the backpack over. “Let’s get out of here before he—”

The boy-samurai groaned. He pushed himself up to his hands and knees. Kuro rolled his eyes. Clearly not the brightest of humans. Even a fox kit knew that when one woke up with one’s head pounding, it was best to play dead until one ascertained just how much danger one was in.

And the boy-samurai was in plenty of danger. Yumi stomped on his hand. He cried out.

“Find some rope,” Yumi said.

“Why would there be rope in an office?” Kuro asked. No wait, a better question was: “Why do we need rope? We’ve got the backpack.”

“To tie him up.” She glared at the boy-samurai’s back.

“Why? Just hit him again so we can escape.”

“We need to interrogate him.”

The boy-samurai froze. Injured hand or not, he should have went for his sword. Yumi yanked both long sword and short out of his sash.

Kuro mashed his lips together. A competent samurai couldn’t have walked in to stop their plan? They didn’t need information. They needed to get out of the Capital where they could forget whatever the Shogun had planned because they were safe from him.

With his luck, which had been getting steadily worse and added extra credence to his powers of a calamity spirit, the boy would blabber on about virgin maidens requiring a big strong warrior to rescue them. Or pretty, virgin maiden men. Either would appeal to Ren, although it would then definitely be men, since he’d be a little more motivated to make Kuro’s task of keeping him alive harder.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

And Yumi wouldn’t keep her mouth shut. She’d blab. Then they’d both be off to save the virgin men, since Yumi wasn’t anymore immune to that urge than Ren.

She kicked the boy-samurai in the hands until he crawled sideways into the corner.

“Interrogating him is a waste of time.” Mainly the time Kuro would have to spend wrangling the two of them out of their newfound fool quest.

“Oh, he has information.” Yumi kicked the boy-samurai again in the hindquarters.

“But the boy—”

“I’m not a boy,” the boy-samurai interrupted. Just like the tanuki pup had claimed he wasn’t a kit either. “I’m Daidoji.”

Kuro stared at him. How was that important? Besides convincing both of them he was too stupid to even keep his name to himself. “Whatever. Daidoji has obviously been trained to withstand interrogation.”

“The fox is right.” Daidoji straightened on his heels. “You won’t be able to get a word past my lips.”

She leaned her head back. “Then we’ll have to torture him.”

Daidoji squeaked.

Violent and lusty. What a woman. “Withstanding interrogation includes withstanding torture.”

“I — I’ll never give up the Shogun’s secrets.” That would have sounded more impressive if Daidoji hadn’t squeaked throughout the entire declaration.

“Oh? So the Shogun has secrets?” Yumi raised the frame.

Daidoji winced, throwing his hands up to protect his head. “I’ll tell you everything!”

She sent Kuro a satisfied smile. Kuro dropped his head, the weight of the situation too much for him. This entire generation of humans had gone to hell and back. All obsessed with risking their lives for virgin men and giving up information without even a bit of torture. What happened to the stoic samurai Ren was so fond of in his stories?

“Why does the Shogun need all these passes?” Yumi asked. “They’re not to give to Undesirables. They have the wrong crest.”

Did they? Kuro looked back at the passes. So that was what the middle crest was for.

“They’re being given to samurai,” she said. “Why?”

“You have everything figured out, you tell me,” Daidoji sneered.

Kuro mentally cheered for him. Yes, withstand that torture. Refuse to tell Yumi anything. If Kuro could pry the backpack out of Yumi’s hands…

But Yumi raised the frame again.

Daidoji cowered under her shadow. “Yes, they’re for samurai.”

“Why?” she asked. “Why do the samurai need to leave the Capital?”

“Besides protecting the farmers from demons?” Kuro rolled his eyes.

“The city’s samurai are required here,” she said. “Defending the barriers.”

“And murdering spirit children,” Kuro muttered.

“We’re escorting Undesirables.” The wrinkled nose told them what Daidoji thought about that.

Kuro jerked. Oh no, it was worse than virgin men. Ren wouldn’t allow their disappearances to slide.

Yumi narrowed her eyes, her hands tightening on the frame. She’d surmised as much before. “Where? Back to their farms?”

Perhaps, if they ever actually needed to interrogate anyone, Kuro would school her in interrogation as well. She gave Daidoji all the answers. He could easily lie and agree and keep every secret. Since this helped Kuro, though, he wasn’t going to say anything.

Daidoji apparently didn’t understand interrogation any better. “To a castle.”

“Which castle?”

“The one on Mount Fox.”

Yumi furrowed her brow. “That castle’s been abandoned for decades. No one’s used it since the Shogun took the Capital.”

“Not anymore,” Daidoji said.

Kuro frowned. Yumi had uncovered something. Something big. Something neither Ren nor Yumi would hesitate to sink their teeth into.

“So you’re repopulating it,” she said.

A good guess, Kuro supposed, and one that benefited him by not sending them on a rescue mission. Castles needed humans to grow food, make repairs, keep the lords in luxury.

Daidoji pressed his lips together, not disagreeing, but keeping a careful eye on the frame.

“So not repopulating it,” Kuro said.

Yumi didn’t glance back at him. She kept her eyes on Daidoji. Good. Although if Daidoji could have attacked her and forced them to flee — with the passes, obviously… “Why Undesirables? What are you doing with them?”

“Using them.”

“How?” she demanded. “To do what?”

When his answer wasn’t forthcoming, Yumi threatened him with the frame.

“To lure the Night Parade,” he admitted.

Kuro slapped a hand over his eyes, groaning. Daidoji hadn’t admitted to virgin men requiring rescue, but Kuro was sure that some of them must be. And this was perhaps worse.

Yumi tensed. Her knuckles were white. “Explain.”

“The Shogun plans to use the castle to trap the Night Parade. We lure them in, and then when they’re in the courtyard, we attack.”

All right, perhaps not so bad.

“Then why do you need Undesirables?” she asked. “They can’t fight. They’re not samurai.”

Daidoji pulled back his lip, not in an aggressive mood like a fox, but in a sneer. With the same disgust he wore when he looked at Kuro. “Demons can’t resist a set of helpless humans.”

“So the humans bring the demons in, so the samurai can attack.”

Kuro closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see her reaction, or the blood spray.

“The demons gorge themselves,” Daidoji said, “and then they’re too placid to fight, or even move. Then we strike.”

“T-that…” She backed up. “You feed humans to demons? On purpose?”

“Yumi,” Kuro said softly.

She shrugged him off as if he’d tugged on her shoulder to pull her away. “That’s monstrous. You’re monsters.”

“No, we’re victorious,” Daidoji said. “It’s brilliant. In one attack, we get rid of all the Undesirables and destroy the demons. This is how the Shogun defeated the Demon Lords.”

That hadn’t been included in Ren’s scrolls on the Shogun’s victories. Kuro shifted from foot to foot, his stomach squeamish.

Yumi backed up, her face bloodless. Her eyes stared in front of her. She dropped the frame.

She hated demons, but that was a bit of an exaggerated response. He’d thought she’d immediately proclaim she’d save the humans. Not… not look haunted by it.

He glanced from the backpack to the passes. Daidoji had no sword. Yumi had no focus. If he ran with the passes, neither would stop him. Running was the right move. And yet, instead he asked, “What’s wrong?”

She hit the opposite wall. The blow seemed to bump the words from her. “M-my family.”

“Your brother’s safe,” he reminded her. He was non-expendable.

“My mother, my family, my younger brothers and sisters.” She kept shaking her head. “They were murdered by demons. An attack. A demon horde attack.”

Which was why she despised all demons. Which was why she couldn’t look at him without pure hatred chilling her eyes. “So? We need to get going. You interrogated him.”

“Big brother wanted to kill a demon. He wanted to impress the Shogun. He’d managed to startle a few spirits away. Imps. Liquor spirits.”

“And now no demon can touch him,” he said. “Come on.”

“He snuck out at night to kill an oni. H-he… He stumbled. Failed.”

She wasn’t going to say that the oni took vengeance on her family, then joined the Night Parade, was she?

“I followed him. I was worried. When my brother fell… I stepped in between them. I hit it, and it bellowed, but we ran off back to our farm. But they were already dead.”

Daidoji squirmed, distinctly embarrassed that a farmer’s girl had beaten him. But that wasn’t the point.

“I’m sure you couldn’t have saved them,” Kuro said. Maybe now, since her brother had become the Shogun’s onmyouji. But as an untrained boy?

“Demons still swarmed our farm. I rushed toward them. I thought someone must still be alive. Stupid, I know,” she said with a glare at Kuro. “Big brother pulled me back. Not in time. They saw us. They came after us. I hit a few of them, but not hard enough. I couldn’t stop them. We tried to run. They were about to fall upon us. But then we ran into the Shogun and his retinue.”

She looked down. Her fists trembled at her sides. “It had seemed like a miracle. The Shogun had saved us.”

She struck her fist against the wall.

Daidoji jumped, and then did such a smart thing that Kuro couldn’t attribute it to him. He looked properly afraid.

She glared into Daidoji’s soul. “But he’d been waiting, hadn’t he?”

It wasn’t a question.

“The Shogun murdered my family.”