Yumi did not have a better plan.

Her plan stank so much that Kuro would rather stick his head in a night soil barrel. He’d rather lick mould from the public baths. He’d even rather go with her original plan.

Kuro officially withdrew her title of useful.

But Ren agreed to her plan, and no amount of arguing on Kuro’s part – even after the tanuki mama gave him a leaf to transform back – had changed his mind.

Kuro couldn’t let Ren walk into his death with only Yumi of the Total Lack of Common Sense at his back, so he found himself waddling down the road under layers of kitsune- and tanuki-transformed armour.

Ren’s new commanding aura had convinced the spirits to help in short order, if Nurarihyon stayed behind to protect their little ones, and only if they could flee before they reached the castle. They’d help them get out of the city, but that was all.

That was more than enough. Kuro had transformed himself into an older male form, a form he’d last used to make Ren blush. He’d looked away after he’d transformed, not wanting to see the anger flit across Ren’s black eyes. Transforming into a form he was already familiar with was easier and safer. Even so, Kuro’s veins popped with the effort of keeping his tail hidden.

And that was why he hadn’t added the armour to his transformation. His own failure wouldn’t affect the other shapeshifters, and their concealment might give Kuro an extra few minutes before his tail poked out. Unless someone spotted his unusually red face, slicked with sweat from the effort of carrying everyone.

In front of him, Ren and Yumi dragged their feet and stared sullenly at the ground. They’d scrubbed dirt into their kimono and hair, and their wrists were locked together by a chain, the transformation of one of the more reliable kitsune.

Nekogami darted around Kuro’s feet. She’d refused to help them outright, claiming she’d keep an eye out for demons on the way, but trying to trip him didn’t count as helping.

And beyond, in the inadequate glow of stone lanterns, two samurai guarded the only bridge out of the Capital. Each held onto a leashed dog. They scanned the street as if they expected trouble. Kuro quickly glanced around, but he had the only chained prisoners in sight.

This was Yumi’s plan. Pretend Ren and Yumi were two last Undesirables being escorted by samurai Kuro. Just because it got them within thirty yards of the guards still didn’t make it a good one.

Kuro had wanted Ren to play the samurai, but Ren had tilted his head, and without a word, conveyed that Kuro would do as Yumi ordered. There was no “or else.” Yumi reminded him that he needed to be transformed, since all the samurai would be on the look out for him, while Ren and Yumi remained anonymous. And since they couldn’t trust Kuro not to pop out a tail… He sighed.

“How much longer?” whined one of the tanuki.

“Shh,” Kuro hissed under his breath. “Quiet.”

“But it’s hard.”

Kuro prayed under his breath to Inari that the samurai would continue to guard the bridge solemnly and quietly.

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“Hold there!” The first guard held up a hand.

Kuro almost grimaced, but was too distracted holding himself together. Was he supposed to be a horse?

Ren and Yumi stopped next to the guards. The dogs had enough slack to sniff around them. The kitsune and tanuki trembled. Kuro trembled at the thought. He choked down the feeling, standing up straight.

“Two last Undesirables for transport, sir,” Kuro muttered in his best samurai voice. Or he would have, if the dogs hadn’t been sniffing his legs.

“More?” The guard groaned. “They breed like cicada.”

“You better hurry,” the other guard said. “The group before you is twenty minutes ahead. You wouldn’t want to get caught out in the forest during Witching Hour.”

Kuro nodded fervently.

“We just need to see your checkpoint pass,” the other guard continued.

“Er…” Kuro straightened. “But isn’t it obvious I’m on the Shogun’s business?”

“Orders.” He shrugged.

Kuro bit his lip. Yumi had inconveniently forgotten that one. He needed an excuse. Any excuse. “I… dropped it. Somewhere.”

Brilliant! Daidoji had been moaning about the same thing.

The second guard frowned. “Then you need a replacement.”

“There’s no time,” he said. “If we don’t leave now, we won’t make it in time.”

“Then you shouldn’t have lost your pass.”

“Oh, have a heart,” the first guard said. “It’s not like our superiors care if people leave the city.”

“Our orders—”

The first guard waved Kuro on. “Head on through.”

The dogs growled at him. Kuro patted the armour comfortingly, but someone whimpered. Oh no, that was Kuro. Nekogami darted across the bridge, but neither dog paid any attention to her. Stupid dogs.

The second guard frowned. “You carrying provisions?”

Kuro tried to laugh.

The dogs barked, snapping their jaws at him. Any second, any one of the shapeshifters could break, Kuro included. He hunched his shoulders, trying to remember that samurai weren’t afraid of dogs, but the thought scattered like so much dandelion fluff.

The dog jumped at Kuro. Kuro winced, but then a foot connected with the dogs muzzle. No, Ren’s foot.

Kuro’s eyes teared up in gratitude. But was it wrong to follow it with a groan that he’d completely forgot to remove Ren’s sandals?

The dog hit the ground several feet away, jerking the leash out of his hands. The second guard pulled in his dog, as the first slammed the hilt of his sword into Ren’s head. Ren crumpled to his knees. The samurai hit him again, and Ren bowed down low.

The guard raised the hilt again.

Kuro held out a hand. “If you break his legs, I’ll have to drag him all the way there.”

The first guard grunted, then spat on the bridge. “Better punishment waiting for that worthless thing ahead.”

“Get up,” Kuro ordered Ren.

Ren’s back shook. When the guard raised his hilt for more encouragement, Yumi dropped to his side and hauled Ren up. Ren had to lean heavily onto her.

“Go on,” the guard told Kuro. “Make sure he gets there in time. I want to hear his scream from down here.”

“Right.” Kuro flicked his hand at Yumi, and Yumi obediently hobbled forward, eyes downcast, as she helped Ren past them.

They crossed the bridge, the Dragon God’s purified river rushing beneath them. Kuro’s back twitched with the shadow of the guards’ presence. If they thought too hard, they’d figure them out. Yumi’s plan was clever, but not that clever…

“Thank you, Ren,” he said quietly while he had the chance. The single phrase couldn’t convey the full amount of his gratitude.

Ren grunted, his head jerking down harder than the rest. As much acceptance as he could risk while in view of the guards.

Behind him, the first guard sang, “At Sho-jo-ji Temple, the garden is bright on the moonlit night.”

Oh no…

The tanuki armour all replied, “Let’s come and together, we are tanuki friends, pon poko pon no pon!”

Damn tanuki! Kuro had lectured them and lectured them.

“Oi!” the guard called.

Kuro paused, wondering if he should just transform and run for it. But jerkily, like his limbs were a roughly made puppet, he turned.

“It’s ‘pon pon poko no pon’, not ‘pon poko pon no pon’.”

Kuro heard the inhale of breath as the tanuki was about to lecture him on how wrong he was. He hurried to loudly tell them. “Oh, that’s right. Not even my armour could disagree.”

The other tanuki hushed the idiot incapable of shutting up.

The guards exchanged looks, shrugged, and turned back to the Capital.

Yumi led them across the bridge. Kuro resisted kissing the ground.

Apparently, even a fool could sometimes catch a cold.