Wind ripping at his top knot, the Shogun gasped. “You!”

Kuro crawled back an extra two steps along the roof, as if that space could actually protect him from the Kusanagi. The wind tore at his kimono, sleeves flapping, pushing him toward the edge.

“I thought Ren…” He shook his head, chuckling to himself. Then the laughter overtook him, forcing him to fling his head back in loud raucous laughter.

Kuro bit his lip, but charged. The Shogun stepped forward, as sure-footed as a demon, still laughing. Kuro braced himself on his hand to stop his charge.

“I never knew Ren could master the art,” the Shogun said. “He’s twined you so thoroughly to his will. I never expected you to risk your neck for some humans, never mind attack me.”

Kuro watched him, waiting for a distraction, waiting for a hesitation he could take advantage of, or a wind to knock him aside.

“Or is it that you’re just too stupid to see what Ren is doing to you? That’s the only reason why you’re not still in my service. You were too stupid to even follow orders.”

Kuro snapped at the Shogun. “That’s because I’m too clever. I don’t need you. I’ll win my own shrine.”

“Oh, is that what Ren promised you?” he asked. “Yet you can’t see that he hasn’t that power.”

Kuro clenched his jaw shut.

“Not even that, then?” The Shogun laughed again. “My, you sell yourself so cheaply.”

“This is my choice,” Kuro growled. He’d chosen to take Ren’s place, to save Ren’s life. To make reparations for everything Kuro had cost him.

“Is it? Or are you here because Ren fluttered his eyelashes at you? Pretended he loved you, a filthy demon.”

“No, that was your onmyouji.”

The Shogun sniffed, stepping forward, forcing Kuro to crawl back. “Ren must have really studied from his bitch mother.”

Kuro stiffened.

“How to play coy. How to make promises without making promises. How to wrap stupid little foxes around their fingers. How to make those stupid little foxes fall in love with them. Getting the little foxes to hand over their heart strings to use as handles as he jerks you around.”

“That isn’t Ren,” Kuro said. “If Ren was in charge, he’d be the one here, not me.”

“Is that what you think? Ren is a good actor. A good whore. Using his body to get what he wants.”

“Shut up!”

The Shogun kept pressing forward, lips turned up in a demon hunting dog grin. “Ren knows he can’t win against me. I ground that knowledge into him in the execution ground. So he fluttered his lashes at you, so you’d fly to his rescue. So you’d climb up here and face me.”

“That’s not…” Kuro’s throat was too thick to finish.

“It’s a clever little plan. Either you somehow get me to drop the Kusanagi.” He held the sword up. Kuro flinched, to the Shogun’s amusement. “Not very likely, I know. Or I’d kill you and he’d hope you managed to injure me in the process. Then he swoops in to stab me when I’m down, and take back his sword.”

“He wouldn’t…” That wasn’t Ren’s plan, was it? The plan was perfect, clever. It guaranteed Ren’s victory better than facing the Shogun head on like an idiot. And if Kuro had only learned one thing in his century of life, it was that when faced between the choice of helping others at one’s own risk, and winning what they wanted at the expense of others, they’d always choose the latter.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

Ren’s whole reason for coming here was to face the Shogun. To get revenge, to get his sword. Kuro needn’t stretch this line of reasoning far to include this manipulation.

“Ren’s not that great at planning,” Kuro said. The fiasco down below, sneaking out of the Imperial Palace after dark to meet a spirit, were all good examples of that.

“Except this plan has one fatal flaw,” the Shogun said. “If I kill you, it doesn’t matter if Ren kills me. He’ll never be able to reclaim his sword. He’s not from my bloodline.”

Kuro hissed in a breath. That was true, and made the Shogun’s premise so much more realistic. Ren really could have planned this, from the moment he heard Yumi berating the spirits over saving the humans. He’d insisted that Kuro would come too, when he’d asked everyone else.

“Actually two fatal flaws,” the Shogun reconsidered. “The other is that he brought you exactly where I needed you. There’s no escape here. No crowds to run into. The barrier traps you here, as it traps the Night Parade outside. I can finish you off once and for all.”

Kuro stepped back again, but his foot slipped over the edge. He tensed, unwilling to take his eyes off the Shogun even for the second it would take to confirm he’d reached the edge of the roof. Only by crawling instead of standing like a human saved Kuro from falling into the barrier. The Shogun could survive the fall with only a few bruises and broken bones to show for it. The barrier might kill Kuro.

But he wasn’t out of room yet. He scrambled around the gable corners, clay tiles clinking, back to the edge they’d started on as as the Shogun marched steadily behind him. The Shogun would kill him because Kuro hadn’t noticed Ren playing with his feelings, manoeuvring as easily as a puppeteer manoeuvred his puppet.

Kuro should return to his fox form. He hadn’t in case his form shattered the barrier, but that would only benefit Kuro. The humans would die, Ren would die… but that would be fit punishment for using Kuro. For making Kuro believe in him. For making Kuro glad that Ren hadn’t been able to move against the crowd in the bailey below, when Ren must have deliberately slowed himself so Kuro could catch up. So Ren could deliver his performance, and pretend to be shocked when Kuro forced him back to Yumi’s side to face the Shogun in his stead—

Kuro exhaled. But no, no. The fury in Ren’s eyes, the way he’d gone dead until he’d found his way to avenge his family against the Shogun… That had been real. The shock when Kuro had kissed him could have been because he hadn’t expected his manipulation to work, but no, Kuro was being an idiot for listening to the Shogun.

There were only two manipulators out of the three of them, and Ren wasn’t one of them. Kuro tightened his fingers into the tiles.

He couldn’t be sure either way. Master manipulator or grieving but honest prince. Kuro squeezed his eyes shut. He wouldn’t know. He had to take a chance. He had to either trust the Shogun who wore his greed like armour, or he could trust Ren and his altruism.

He knew the clever choice. The choice that would save Kuro.

“You can run and run and run all you like,” the Shogun called as he rounded the final corner. “You’ll never leave this roof. I will kill you. We’ll call you the eight hundred and thirty-eighth demon I’ve killed. You’re fortunate to have such an auspicious number.”

“This doesn’t feel lucky,” Kuro muttered.

“Even the most lucky number couldn’t overcome your power of misfortune.” The Shogun gave him a pitying look as he raised his sword. “Ren trapped you here. Ren sent you to be slaughtered.”

The Shogun lunged. Kuro dodged back. His heel caught on the ridge. He fell onto his back, the ridges digging into his thighs, waist, and neck.

The Shogun closed the distance, standing over him. He pointed the Kusanagi at his throat.

Dodge. Leap. Fall over the side. Kuro remained frozen. None of those would work.

“His rebellion is over,” the Shogun said. “Long live the new emperor.”

He raised the blade. Kuro flinched.

A small body landed on the Shogun’s back, throwing him off-balance. Kuro stared. Nekogami. She’d come back.

She hissed, spit flying everywhere. The Shogun twisted, attempting to throw her off his back. She clawed his armour to stay on.

Kuro stared at her. But why? Why was she risking herself?

“Idiot!” Nekogami yelled at Kuro. “Run!”

Kuro scrambled up, feet sliding on the tiles. Tripping over the ridges, he darted away. He should have fell, but his legs somehow fell beneath him. Somehow found purchase and stability, even though his limbs were numb.

“Enough!” the Shogun roared. He twisted his shoulders and grabbed Nekogami’s wrist. He flung her into the roof.

She landed on all fours, hissing. Why wasn’t she running?

The Shogun sneered. The Kusanagi flashed.

Nekogami tried to jump to the side. The blade cut her forearm, and she fell hard onto her shoulder.

The Shogun snapped his attention back to Kuro, sweeping the Kusanagi back as he stepped into position. The same stance he’d used before he butchered a dozen Night Parade demons.

Kuro stepped back, but he was too late.

The Shogun swept his sword forward.

Kuro raised his arms against the onslaught.

Captured in the frame of his arms like a sickening ukiyo-e print, Nekogami darted into the sword’s path. The blade sliced through her stomach.