“But that’s great news,” Kuro said.

Judging by the silence that followed, Kuro was apparently the only one in the office who thought that.

Yumi whirled on him, leaving Daidoji unattended. “The Shogun murdered my family and you’re glad? Do you really hate me that much?”

“Keep an eye on him.” Kuro jabbed a finger at Daidoji. Yumi had left the way clear for him to retrieve his swords. On second thought, watching him tremble, petrified by Yumi’s existence, that wasn’t a problem.

Yumi stomped on Daidoji’s hand without looking away from Kuro. Daidoji yelped.

“I’m sorry about your family, I really am.” Kuro had lost his family. He knew how the loss burned. “But it means that the Shogun is trying to destroy the Night Parade, and not ally with them.”

Except for the part where the Shogun had used them to destroy the Imperial family, a more frightening idea. Oh, and the part where Ren would refuse to leave the city and swear vengeance on the onmyouji. Kuro needed his own bevy of virgin men to lure Ren away.

“Am I supposed to feel sorry for them?” she snapped.

“The Night Parade is dangerous. The Shogun is dangerous. Together, they’re really dangerous. But apart…”

They were still really dangerous, the Shogun especially. The Night Parade was the Shogun’s number one enemy. The bane of his existence. They should be doing everything in their power to thwart the Shogun’s plans.

But the Shogun used them like he used his samurai. They attacked the Imperial Palace, thinking they’d land a blow against the Shogun through the Sun Prince, but in the end, only accomplishing his bidding. He orchestrated them all — the Night Parade, the samurai, humans, spirits, Ren, Kuro, the onmyouji and Yumi. Kuro would have preferred them in cahoots, because how were they supposed to fight that level of manipulation? How could they ever know if what they did was to fight the Shogun, or because it fit into the Shogun’s plans?

Kuro squashed down the hopelessness deflating his chest. He didn’t want to fight the Shogun. He wanted to get Ren away, safe. And if that played into the Shogun’s hand, then fine. So long as he had his shrine and Ren.

Yumi didn’t follow Kuro’s reasoning by the way she relaxed and nodded. “There is that.”

“So we should leave the Capital as soon as possible.”

“We need to tell my brother,” Yumi said.

“Why?” Kuro asked. “We have the passes.”

“My brother needs to know what the Shogun is doing,” she said. “What he’s done to us.”

But her brother knew! If the Shogun wanted to trap demons, then he’d need his precious onmyouji to create barriers. Did she really think her brother was that simple in the head? “With what evidence? Better for us to leave and collect it.” Or walk very, very far away.

“We’ll get that thing,” she gestured to Daidoji, “to confess to him.”

So Kuro rated above the term ‘that thing’. At another time, it would have been nice to know. He glared at Daidoji for being weak.

“I won’t say a word,” Daidoji said. “I only told you because you can’t do anything to stop us.”

Yumi ignored him. “And we have the passes. My brother can see the castle for himself.”

He probably already had. “What if telling him tips off the Shogun?” Because Yusuke would run to him instead of check on the castle.

“My brother needs to know,” she said. “He’ll put a stop to this.”

Kuro appreciated that she didn’t try to rope him into a quest. “Will he?”

“Of course. The Shogun killed our family.”

“Your brother is a sycophant,” he reminded her. “It must have been a dream come true, encountering the Shogun like that. Just in time for him to show off his abilities.”

“He’s… ambitious,” she admitted. “But he didn’t strive just for rank. He wants to protect humans.”

With that, she flunked out of Kuro’s school of mistrust. Number one rule, never believe that humans would put others before their own ambitions. No one would risk crossing the Shogun for some humans he’d never met. They wouldn’t risk palatial quarters and near-noble rank and all the other perks for people that most didn’t even consider human.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Kuro opened his mouth to teach her all that, but then snapped it closed. Yumi couldn’t understand, because she hadn’t experienced betrayal — yet. She’d never been tested. She didn’t know she’d been betrayed. And the more time Kuro spent with her, the more she rubbed off on him. Ren as well. He’d started to care, even forgetting that he didn’t need her.

Because he didn’t. He had the passes. The backpack was his. He needed to find Ren, but he didn’t need Yumi with him for that. Whisking Ren away would even be easier without Yumi to prod Ren to his worse instincts.

Her brother wouldn’t hurt her. Probably. He’d wager the onmyouji would only smile sanguinely, promise her he’d look into it, and then lock her up until she stopped being inconvenient.

“All right, I’m convinced,” Kuro said. It was even the truth. “You tell your brother, and I’ll find—” He glanced at Daidoji. “You know who.”

He definitely shouldn’t mention Ren, even on the off chance he connected a given name to the Sun Prince. He probably shouldn’t have even said ‘you know who.’

“And I’m supposed to drag that thing all by myself?” Yumi pointed at Daidoji.

“You’re plenty strong. I believe in you,” Kuro said. “Just tell me where they went.” He skirted around the pronoun as well.

She glanced at Daidoji. “They must be in my brother’s quarters. Isn’t that what you claimed?”

“A little less snark, please.”

She shrugged her shoulders with a sly grin.

“They can’t be there.”

She shrugged again.

“But that would be—” He hung his head. Suicide. Therefore, Ren must have gone there. No where safer would do.

“So use your demonic strength and haul that thing,” she said.

Kuro turned to the passes, eyes drooping.

“I’ll carry the passes,” she said.

“Oh well, in that case.” He turned to the boy-samurai. “Get up. Or I’ll tell your ladylove you pissed your hakama.”

Daidoji paled.

Yumi picked up the pack and used her arm to plow a cascade of passes into the basket. “Just knock him out and drag him.”

“You don’t think that would look too suspicious?”

She pursed her lips. “Maybe there’s a bigger backpack—”

“Or maybe he’ll walk and pretend everything is all right, because even if he calls the samurai onto us, I will escape,” Kuro said, “and who knows what I’ll tell a certain someone when I do.”

Daidoji jerked to his feet in a move that contained none of Ren or the Shogun’s grace.

“You’ll be a good boy?” Kuro asked.

He nodded furiously, not even objecting to the use of ‘boy’ or treating him like a dog.

Kuro left the two swords in the office. He couldn’t carry them, not being a samurai, and Yumi couldn’t, being a woman. Daidoji could, but he was best left without any weapons. He walked stiffly as it was, as if begging every passerby to notice something was wrong.

But the government officials they passed were even more taut. The empire fell around their ears, and one nervous boy made no difference.

Yumi carried the backpack as she led them through the corridors. Her kimono probably helped the passing bureaucrat’s disinterest. Kuro’s fingers itched to take it from her, but refrained. Hopefully the onmyouji would still be away murdering innocent babies, they’d find Ren, Kuro would get the backpack, and they’d run as if dogs were on their heels.

Outside, the sun set in a blaze of red and orange. If they were to leave, they had to leave within the hour. Crossing the bridge at sunset was risky. Sleeping in the forest even riskier. But they could risk staying in the Shogun’s reach even less.

Would she lead him to the prison he’d first awoken in? But no, Yumi led them inward to the very bowels of the compound for the few favourites who had no sprawling estates of their own. In the darkening corridors, they passed huge chambers for the favourites’ use, with tiny partitions stacked with blankets for their servants. The Shogun had assigned Yusuke a very good position, then.

Yumi slid open a door, and like before, entered first. Kuro prodded Daidoji inside. The room was dark. No servant had come by to light the lantern. Did that mean the room was empty? Shit, he’d wagered on Ren being in the onmyouji’s rooms since that would put him in the most trouble. But unoccupied meant the onmyouji wasn’t there either.

“You stay here to talk to your brother.” Kuro stepped forward, holding out his hand. “I’ll take the passes and find—”

He didn’t have the chance to accidentally reveal Ren. When he stepped inside the room, spiritual power struck him in a flash of blue. He screamed.

The flash sizzled out, but another arched into him. His chest crackled with pain. His skin crawled, his human disguise dissolving. Still human-shaped, but the pain revealed his tail tucked between his legs and his fox ears pinned to his head. His claws bit into the palms of his hands, but he couldn’t feel them over the spiritual power.

“Kuro!” he heard Yumi cry out from a distance.

Daidoji laughed.

Arms wrapped around his belly, eyes squeezed shut, Kuro collapsed to his knees. The spiritual power hit him again and again. He arched his back, throwing his head, screaming. As if he could scare the pain away if he made enough noise. He’d never known such pain. This wasn’t like the barrier from before. This was…

The barrier broke. Kuro blinked his eyes open long enough to catch Yumi holding up a sheet of paper she’d pulled from the circle, eyes wide in shock.

Kuro collapsed on the ground.

Daidoji stomped on Kuro’s shoulder. “How do you like that?” He stomped again, laughing maniacally.

“Please maintain at least a modicum of dignity,” Yusuke said, stepping into the room and sliding the door shut. He held a lantern.

“Forgive me,” Daidoji mumbled and stepped back.

It didn’t matter. Kuro curled into a ball. Daidoji could have snapped every bone in his body and he couldn’t have hurt more than he did now. Yumi had broken the barrier, but he still felt it. The spiritual power had broken him so much beneath his skin.

“Big brother,” Yumi said, “what did you do?”

So the barrier wasn’t just a booby trap to protect his quarters.

“Sister, I’m so glad you’re safe,” Yusuke said. “When I found out this demon escaped its prison—”

“Prison?” she interrupted. “You arranged a puppet show for him.”

“Don’t interrupt me.”

She ducked her head, stepping back. “Sorry, big brother.”

Kuro’s head felt too light. White spots shone behind his eyelids.

“This demon murdered the Sun Prince,” the onmyouji announced as Kuro passed out, “and he will be punished.”