In the reflection of the sacred mirror, Kuro should have seen a loser. A stupid, pathetic little kit that put everyone in danger and couldn’t go two days without being captured. Or worse. How that would even look, Kuro didn’t know, but he suspected it wouldn’t look like what actually appeared.

Black fur surrounded two orange eyes, the slits narrow despite the dim glow of the hearth. Black whiskers barely distinguishable from the black fur framed a wet black nose.

A black fox. That was it, all he saw.

Kuro cocked his head, and the black fox cocked his in the same way. No horrible visions, no disappointment.

Just him. No more. No less.

Next to him, Ren said, “You’ll return to the castle with me. No more running. You’ll train with me every morning — are you even listening? Kuro!”

But Kuro couldn’t help but stare at the fox looking back at him.

Purification power sizzled every nerve in Kuro’s body.

Kuro dropped the mirror in his lap. “Ow! What was that for?”

Yumi towered over him, still wearing her straw cloak. “You were bespelled!”

“He wasn’t bespelled.” Ren glared at the empty ground. “He was just ignoring me. Again. Despite us having to save him from a pack of demons, he still refuses to train.” By the end of his statement, his words were so bitter that Kuro had to swallow just to breathe.

“I — I listened,” Kuro murmured when he meant to speak. “And I did train. I lied, and I begged Kuchisake not to tell you. I just didn’t want you to know.”

Ren’s head snapped up, his eyes meeting Kuro’s for a second. “Why?”

“I suck at it. I couldn’t even transform a pimple when I left.” His face felt so hot, and he wished he could stick his head into a snowbank, if only because he wouldn’t have to keep talking. He drew in a deep breath instead. “The more I trained, the worse I got. But I figured it out. I know how I can master my kitsune abilities now.”

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Kuro gathered up the burnt ropes and held them up in Ren’s face. “See! I summoned foxfire. Just… not in the way that you want.”

He couldn’t read the look on Ren’s face. His matte black eyes hid everything.

“So this is why you left,” Yumi interrupted. “To undergo a training quest, like Shogun Gorou.”

“What?” Kuro lowered the singed rope.

“Oh, you know. When Shogun Gorou grew to manhood, he set off on a quest to become the best, defeat so many demons, stand under so many waterfalls…” Yumi shrugged. “I didn’t know people really did that.”

It was the lie Kuro had meant to tell Ren, back in the cave. Trying to hide his look under his bangs, he looked up at Ren. Gone was inscrutable from Ren’s expression, but it wasn’t replaced by pride. As Yumi described the Shogun’s quest, he tensed so much that Kuro kept an eye on the dagger still in his hand. At least it wasn’t the sword.

“No!” Kuro burst out, then cringed as Ren’s critical gaze fell upon him like the entire Night Parade. He bit his lip. He could still agree. Tell Ren he figured out how to properly train. But it would never last. Kuro breathed, then admitted, “I mean, nothing like that. That wouldn’t have even worked for me.” Kuro waved the rope in front of him. “I played Leaf, Water, Fire.”

Yumi and Ren stared at him blankly.

Kuro stopped breathing. No, Ren wouldn’t punish him. “It’s a game. A kit’s game. You transform, and summon foxfire, and — and I did it!” He thrust the rope up at them. “I summoned foxfire. On the first try.”

The corner of Ren’s mouth lifted. “You did.”

“You’re not angry?”

“Why would I?” Ren asked. “You tried. You actually tried. And you learned something.”

“Kuchisake said—” Kuro clutched his head hair, yanking it hard enough to vent his frustration, but not hard enough to pull it out of his head.

He had to be so much better than this. Obviously Kuchisake said that Ren punished kits for playing a game. She’d wanted to keep Kuro afraid of him. And Kuro had even figured out what she was doing — way too late, but before he’d set out on the journey.

Meanwhile, as Kuro freaked out, the softness in Ren’s expression had leached away at the mention of Kuchisake. The way it had every time Kuro had brought her up. Listening to her, instead of his friend. His master.

“Kuchisake is a liar!” Kuro declared.

“Um… Sure,” Yumi said, but Ren smirked.

Kuro nodded. “She is,” he repeated. “But she didn’t lie about the Storm God.” He hoped.

“The Storm God?” Yumi looked between the two of them. “What on earth? What exactly is going on?”

“Kuro,” Ren warned.

But he delivered his warning too late, for Kuro was already saying, “The Storm God knows how to fix the Kusanagi.”

Ren grunted.

“Fix the Kusanagi?” Yumi asked. Kuro nodded. “But that’s a great plan! Way better than trying to win over the Night Parade.”

Ren glared at her.

“She’s right, Ren,” Kuro said. “I know it’s risky. I know that it won’t stop the Shogun. But it’s the right thing to do, if for only one reason.”

“For so many reasons,” Yumi added.

Kuro glared at her, but returning his attention to Ren. “Because Kuchisake doesn’t want you to have the Kusanagi. She’s been manipulating us from the beginning.”