Blood spurted like fireworks when Kuro reached the platform.

Ren hadn’t been the only human with a complete lack of survival instinct, and thank the gods for that. The initial wave of a dozen Undesirable men and women had wrestled samurai to their knees.

But reinforcements poured out of the main keeps, swords drawn. They cut down the initial wave.

More Undesirables scaled the ladder, shoving Kuro out of the way. They jumped on samurai from behind and broke their grips. Swords clattered on the ground to be claimed by the Undesirables.

Kuro had to act quickly. The Undesirables challenged the samurai for the moment, but with the samurai’s superior skills, they’d overwhelm the Undesirables soon enough.

The onmyouji and the Shogun had fled, or so Kuro hoped. Fled meant they felt intimidated. Fled meant Kuro might have a chance. Strategically retreated might be too much for Kuro. But he’d figure it out. If Yumi could plot their way into the castle, then Kuro could plot his way into regaining the Kusanagi.

The barrier held firm against the Night Parade. They hovered in place, a roil of scales and fangs and claws and black miasma. They spread like a plague toward the main keep.

So long as Yumi lived, they weren’t a problem. Night would pass, dawn would break, and the Night Parade would give up. He glanced over their writhing mass to catch sight of their ghost leader, but with too many flailing limbs, it was impossible.

He searched amid the carnage in the core bailey for the Shogun, but only lower rank samurai swarmed. He hadn’t retreated inside the main keep, had he?

But no, the Shogun was easy to find. All Kuro had to do was look up. The Shogun climbed out of a third floor window and hauled himself onto the tiled roof. Wind tore at him, but his ox-like build was impervious to anything less than a typhoon.

“What is he doing?” Kuro murmured to himself.

It didn’t matter. Kuro had to follow him. He couldn’t let the sword fall to the Night Parade either. It belonged to Ren. Kuro couldn’t bring Ren’s family back to life, or repair the Imperial Palace, or make Ren emperor, but he could return one thing that he’d stolen away from him.

Which meant Kuro needed to climb. He jumped off the platform and, dodging swords and fists, made his way to the main keep. He sprang back from the door as three more samurai raced out. Inside the dimly lit room, the outline of samurai roiled like the Night Parade. He couldn’t use the stairs.

He backed up and ducked under a whistling arrow. In his fox form, he could jump between the layers of roof. But the keep was built to prevent humans from infiltrating it. The plaster sides offered no handholds, and even if he could climb that high, iron rods prevented him from reaching the barred windows.

“Psst, idiot fox.”

Kuro jerked his head to look down to the voice. Nekogami squatted, waving one hand like a lucky cat statue.

He jogged over to her. “What do you want?”

“I saw what you did, meow.”

He narrowed his eyes. “So what? I thought you were just going to watch.”

“I’m not going to fight,” she said. “But I couldn’t help but notice how useless you are.”

He bared his teeth.

“Hang on, meow.” She rose to her full spirit height, turning her back to him. She flicked her hands around her buttocks, indicating for him to jump onto her back.

“I’m not going to do that,” Kuro said.

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“The proper response is thank you.”

“You’re a fifteen pound cat! You can’t carry me.”

“So humans aren’t just rubbing their scent off on you. They’ve also passed on their stupidity.”

He smelled like humans? He sniffed himself.

“Not the point, meow,” she said. “I’m more than a fifteen pound cat. Now get on. Or do you want the Shogun to destroy the Night Parade before you claw your way up there?”

He hesitated, but she was right, so he hopped up onto her back. Her hands clenched his thighs, and he wrapped his arm under her neck.

She’d drop him for sure. Not because she was too weak, but just for the fun of it. She loved nothing more than to pick on him. He shouldn’t rely on her—

She jumped, letting go of his thighs to land on the next roof on all fours. She ran a few more steps, returned to her hind legs, and jumped to the next layer, repeating it until they reached the top. She shook him off like a dog.

The tiled roof swerved into a steep slope, but the roof skirt was flat enough to sit on without sliding. If he was very graceful and careful and the mountaintop winds stayed in his favour.

Pressing a finger against her lips, she whispered, “Now it’s all up to you. Are you a demon or are you a god?”

He swatted at her, but she ran to the edge furthest from the Shogun and stepped off. Kuro crawled over the tiled ridges. She fell through the core bailey’s secondary barrier with barely a flicker and landed on all fours. She’d passed through it like it had been no challenge at all.

“Stupid cat gods,” he muttered. If he fell, the barrier would smash him. He paused. “Thank you.”

Kuro turned back to the Shogun. Legs parted wide enough to brace himself on the tiles, the Shogun stood on the far end, closest to the Night Parade. His topknot flew in the stiff wind that threatened to topple Kuro.

The Shogun drew the Kusanagi, gripping it in front of him between two hands. He swept the blade to the side and behind him, as if preparing to attack. As if he believed he could take on the entire Night Parade from hundreds of yards away, with one sword. Even for an Imperial Treasure, that was asking a bit much.

But if the Shogun insisted on distracting himself, Kuro wasn’t going to complain. He crept toward him, placing his feet between the ridges as lightly as possible. Still, the clay tiles clanged. He bit his lip. Hopefully the tumult of the bailey below and the beating of so many demons swallowed the sound.

The Shogun didn’t move. His torso was tense, but his arms relaxed even as he maintained position. He bowed his head, as if meditating.

When Kuro reached three yards behind him, he aimed himself into the wind and gathered his legs under him to pounce.

Pounce, yank the Shogun off balance by the collar of his armour, snatch the sword from his surprised grip. Not much of a plan, but effective.

The Shogun jerked. Kuro froze. He’d heard. He must have.

“Move!” Kuro whispered to himself.

The Shogun swept the sword around him in a belly strike. Kuro leapt, bumping into him mid-strike. Kuro reached for the Shogun’s collar, but the Shogun slid forward as he lost balance, the bottom of his helmet snapping against his backplate. No hold for Kuro to grab.

Kuro landed, his left foot accidentally kicking the Shogun in the calf. The Shogun’s feet slipped out from under him. They both fell on their arses, sliding down the roof. Kuro turned over on his stomach, grabbing at the ribs of the roof for a handhold. He found one, managing to stop himself.

A hand grabbed his ankle. Kuro kicked, but the grip tightened. The Shogun.

Beyond them, a whirlwind erupted, clipping the edge of the Night Parade. The air tore through the demons. Blood rained down the cliff.

The nearest demons fled from the whirlwind’s path, but not before air blades slashed through them.

“What the…?” Kuro whispered.

That hadn’t been natural, unless the Shogun was as lucky as Kuro was unlucky. Which was a possibility, if the Shogun had found and tucked away a god of fortune somewhere. But no, the Shogun must have known that would happen. He’d stood on the roof, when anyone else would have thought him stark raving mad, and he’d swung the Kusanagi.

Kuro’s eyes popped wider, if that was even possible. The Kusanagi had done that? No wonder the Shogun hadn’t settled for merely breaking Ren’s power. Becoming emperor was only a side benefit; the sword must have been the Shogun’s true target.

“You stupid boy!” the Shogun snapped. The fingers around Kuro’s ankle tightened until he thought, human or no, the Shogun would snap the bone. “I would have destroyed them all but for you. How many did I get?”

Kuro groaned as the Shogun twisted his ankle to face the Night Parade.

He muttered to himself, “Twenty? Thirty? They swarm like locusts.”

The Shogun dragged himself up the rest of the way onto the roof, tugging so hard that Kuro’s fingers scraped the edge of the tile, threatening to drop them both through the barrier onto the slope. His grip shifted from Kuro’s ankle, to his thigh, to his hip, each more painful than the last. Kuro kicked at him, but the armour protected the Shogun from any distraction-worthy pain.

When the Shogun planted his feet on the roof, Kuro finally broke his grip. He scrambled onto the roof and away from the Shogun. Not far enough away, as no such thing existed on the roof.

The Shogun pointed the sword that had just butchered demons far more powerful than Kuro at him.

Kuro swallowed. He should have dropped onto the barrier. That would have been a less painful way to die.