The Way of the Fox (14 page)

“
The banquet progressed, and the fox spirit was an immaculate servant – polite and attentive. He became concerned that some of the peaches were not quite ripe, and as he served them to the gods, he gave a frown.

‘
Great Kami – this fruit may not be quite fit for the gods. Great shame would fall upon me if I served a fruit that was unpalatable.’

“
And so the fox helpfully took a bite from certain of the peaches, testing them for sweetness and flavour, passing them on to the gods only when he was utterly sure that they were fit. And so the evening passed pleasantly – until the gods noticed something very strange.

“
The fox spirit had suddenly grown a tail…”

Chiri spread a piece of pure white paper before her. She reached for a brush.

“As the gods stared, one tail after another sprouted from the fox’s rump, until finally there were nine tails. Long and red, with pure white tips. The gods realised that the fox had indeed eaten peaches that encompassed virtues. Before they could protest, the fox sped off into the gardens and escaped. He ran gleefully back to the earth, and proved to be too cunning, too intelligent and too persuasive to ever be tracked down.”

The nezumi girl wrote characters elegantly upon the page – her brushwork immaculate.

“For each peach he ate, the ancestral fox spirit had gained a tail. Nine bites – nine tails. Nine bites – nine virtues.

- Unquestioning Friendship.

- Carefree Generosity.

- Unquenchable Humour

- Soaring Passion

- Courage in Adversity.

- Sly C
unning

- Persuasive Charm

- Mental Flexibility.

And last of all
–
Believability
.”

The paper now held the symbols for the virtues of the fox. Chiri presented it quietly to Kuno.

“
Pure souls are very rare, Kuno san. The kitsune say that you can clearly see a person’s virtues only in your dreams – but that your dream self will have one tail for each virtue you have managed to achieve.

“
But the first tail is always
friendship.”

Chiri bowed.

“Please excuse my long story, Kuno san. I hope you are not offended.”

Kuno bowed, formally and sincerely, as a true soul should.

“Nezumi san – I thank you for pointing out my errors.” He rose back up from the bow. “But I am not sure I understand the value of these foxly virtues.”

The rat spirit
gave a smile. “Perhaps it is enough that we each stay true to our own.”

The party went on. A samisen player and a drummer performed f
or the crowd, with Sura singing a comedic song. There was singing and dancing. Sitting drinking in one corner, Sano Moko elected not to take part. She bowed a good evening to Kuno and Chiri, then walked out into the quieter reaches of the dormitories, bowing to the monk on the porch before disappearing off into the night.

At the far end of the
guest house, Hamada Bunji sat alone in his room. He kept the screen doors closed shut, but it failed to shut away the sounds of the party over by the stream. Bunji drank steadily, brooding in the gloom of a single lamp, still wearing his sweat-stained clothing from the tournament. He kept his fine sword and short sword close nearby, leaving them sprawling on the floor. No one had yet dared to disturb him.

The door slid open.
Yoshikiyo entered – dressed severely and neatly, with hair oiled and swords thrust exactly through his belt. He set aside a rain-spattered straw hat, knelt down, and essayed a short, precise bow.

Hamada Bunji ignored him. Yoshikiyo glanced towards the teapot that sat in the middle of the floor.

“Is that tea, or is it sake?”

Bunji favoured Yoshikiyo with a cold glance.

“Sakē.”

The room was in dire need of airing. Yoshikiyo arose and slid open the screen door that led to the porch. Outside, rain spattered down across the castle grounds, making the dark shadows of the trees sway and bow. Yoshikiyo
turned and sternly glowered down at Bunji.

“
Why are you drinking alone? Put face on your defeat and join the others!”

“
I drink where I please!” Bunji poured himself another cup, spilling sakē onto the mats. “Do they need me to celebrate their triumphs?”

“
If you did not want to risk defeat, then you should never have competed!” Yoshikiyo flicked out his damp sleeves. “You were no match for him! The contest was lost before it was begun!”

Hamada Bunji shot a look of hatred towards the bright noise of the party.

“It was a mere trick! He had a surprise move!”

“
A samurai has a duty to always guard against surprise attack!” Yoshikiyo glanced down at Bunji in contempt. “Remember it!”

Retri
eving his hat, Yoshikiyo stalked to the door. He marched off into the gloom, shaking his robes as though trying to divest himself of vermin. A passing maid bowed to him as he walked by.

Hamada Bunji cast aside his cup, letting it crash against a wall. He drank
straight from the bottle, but only the dregs remained. He shouted for a maid – finally bringing one scuttling to his door. Another sakē bottle was brought hurriedly in and placed beside him.

Once again,
Bunji drank from the bottle. On a sudden impulse, he snatched up his swords. Rising, he walked straight out into the rain. Past the party room – past the monk sitting on the porch. He wound off beneath the dripping trees and vanished in the dark.

The party had reached a warm, friendly stage. Exhausted contestants from the day’s tournament were
lounging half asleep, enjoying the camaraderie. Meanwhile, Sura and Tonbo taught the remaining party goers a very fox-like dice game where the players deliberately lied about their scores. It was accompanied by a great deal of laughter, shouts and cries of triumph and defeat, and penalties that involved drinking yet more sakē or the wearing of silly paper hats.

Chiri and Kuno walked aside f
rom the merriment. The night had a wonderful, glittering charm. Moisture sparkled upon the rain-wet grass, and the leaves of the nearby trees glittered like stars. A few wisps of moonlight came streaming through the dark clouds overhead. The landscape was filled with great jet black spaces beneath the walls and underneath the trees.

Walking side-by-side, perfectly happy in each other’s company, Chiri and Kuno crossed over the garden stream. They wandered on through the grass, moving towards the shape of
the tall, elegant pagoda. The sharp, crisp air drifted with the night-scents of countless flowers. Off in the town, the festival still spread its laughter in the breeze.

They paused on a rise beside the gardens, looking off towards the lamp lights that glimmered
from the castle keep. They had only just paused to enjoy the view, when suddenly the skies opened. A great ocean of rain came crashing down. Hunching in the deluge, both Kuno and Chiri laughed. They dithered for a moment, then ran for the trees, but the great boughs overhead merely turned the rain into countless cold, splashing streams. The two friends raced wet and dripping into the great, dark pagoda. They stood laughing just inside the door, with the deluge crashing down outside. The sound was utterly deafening. Kuno laughed at the entire ridiculous situation.

“
So much for viewing the moon together!”

“B
ut I did see it, Kuno san – ever so briefly!” Chiri’s long hair was wet, and her clothes drenched through and through. “But the rain is most refreshing!”

Kuno had worn a surcoat over his robe. He pulled off the surcoat, then unthreaded his swords from his belt and leaned them against the wall. He gallantly removed his
outer robe, which was at least partially dry, and offered it to Chiri.

“
We shall have to wait a while until the rain stops.” He bowed as he presented his robe. “Here, Chiri san! It may keep you warm.”

“Oh please! It is not necessary!” Chiri reddened with embarrassment: Kuno now had only his undershirt to keep away the chill. “I can at least give myself fur – but you will surely catch a chill!”

She turned into her furred form – her face changing into an elegant muzzle, and pure white fur covering her skin. Chiri’s air elemental and rock elemental – both shaking themselves dry up in the tall eaves of the pagoda – came swirling down to settle on her shoulders. The nezumi girl gave a radiant smile.

“Come
! We can use the robes as our roof when we brave the rain…”

The air elemental suddenly flicked his head at the dark. Chiri’s whiskers twitched. She instantly shoved Kuno aside.

A sudden flicker of motion came out of the dark. Kuno dodged away, twisting with practiced footwork. A sword blade missed him by a finger’s width, then sliced again, driving Kuno and Chiri out into the rain. Kuno stood his ground outside. His swords were back inside the jet black pagoda.

Hamada Bunji burst out of the pagoda’s doorway, longsword in hand and face set in a mask of hate. He fixed upon Kuno and raised his blade, ready to strike.

The white rat moved.

With great speed and elegance,
Chiri put herself between Kuno and his attacker. Twin kama were in her hands. She stood poised in the rain, weapons held skilfully and eyes narrowed. Her long white hair streamed behind her like an ice cold waterfall.

“
Please withdraw, samurai san. I have no wish to harm you.”

Bunji attacked.

He cut savagely, trying to slaughter Chiri and cut through her to slay Kuno where he stood. But the rat seemed to flow up and into his attack, sliding past. Her kama took the sword aside – and then the hooked blades slid and whirled. Bunji’s sword spilled out of his hands to clash onto the ground. Chiri slammed the butt end of a kama beneath the man’s chest, sending him crashing onto his back in the rain. It all happened with such speed that Kuno could only blink, completely amazed.

Scrabbling to his feet, Hamada Bunji found his sword. He stared at Chiri for an instant, then turned and ran, fleeing off into the dark.

Chiri stood in the rain, slender and erect. With her enemy gone, she slid her kama back into her belt, the blades slipping back into their sheathes. She turned and bowed gravely to Kuno.

“Kuno san! You are unharmed?”

“Yes – thanks to your timely warning.” Kuno stared after Bunji. “Hamada Bunji.”

Kuno swiftly r
etrieved his swords and robes. He bowed to Chiri is gratitude. Together, then ran back out into the rain, and headed straight for the castle guards.

Chapter 6

At midnight, torche
s lit the gateway to the castle keep with a red, baleful glow.

The main keep was one of a new style of central towers – tall and imposing, designed to proudly declaim the presence of imperial law. Broad and majestic, it had five floors that rose
, roof after roof, high into the sky.

The first floor above ground level was given over to
formal, official rooms. Magistrate Masura’s audience chamber was the most imposing of all. Armour sat grimly in alcoves, set out upon stands, their metal masks glowering out into the gloom. A row of lanterns scarcely lit the high recesses of the room. The dark roof beams stayed glimmering in shadow.

The attempted murder
of an imperial deputy was a grave enough offence to have required immediate attention. Magistrate Masura sat upon the main dais, with guards, a young page, and his senior officer at his side. Men from all over the castle had been pulled out of their celebrations and their beds.

Asodo Kuno
sat in the centre of the hall, with Chiri sitting gravely beside him. Behind them, Sura and Tonbo sat beside one of the castle guards – with Sura unconscionably close to a bowl of out-of-season fruit.

Lining the opposite wall were the master of the Seven Winds school of
swordsmanship, his assistant Yoshikiyo, several damp students, and Hamada Bunji. Bunji sat frozen-faced, his expression fixed – his robes dripping wet with rain.

Lord Masura draped a piece of paper over his arm and read the document through, his face grim and displeased.
After long minutes scowling at the page, he set the document aside, and looked to Asodo Kuno.

“Commander
Hijiya has presented your report to me, Deputy Asodo.” His lordship looked over the assembly with a dire eye. “This is a grave and alarming accusation, Asodo san. Where is Hamada Bunji?”

Hamada Bunji indicated his own presence with a
stiff bow. But the scarred old sword master swivelled to face the magistrate. His voice was harsh and angered.

“
My lord! This accusation is baseless! A mere mistake of the light! After his failure at the tournament, I instructed Hamada Bunji to meditate upon his technique in the school gardens.” He produced a sheaf of papers, and placed them down upon the tatami mats. “My student has been with us in our school all night, my lord. Ten students will so attest.”

Kuno looked over to Hamada Bunji with cold eyes.

The test
imony of the ‘witnesses’ had been dictated by their master, and signed by all ten students. Hamada Bunji’s testimony matched their tale word for word. Lord Masura’s officer, Commander Hijiya, passed the documents up to his lordship. Magistrate Masura glanced only briefly at the statements. He was deeply displeased. He gave a cold glance towards the sword master and his men.

“
The testimony of the witnesses is clear. Hamada Bunji cannot have been present in the shrine to attack you, Kuno san. Clearly the failing light made you mistake your attacker’s identity.”

Kuno swelled.
His deep-seated sense of justice had been utterly laid raw.

“My
lord – there was no shadow. I know exactly what I saw!”

“
Clearly you do not! One man cannot be in two places at once.” The magistrate’s tone was curt. He glared at Kuno in annoyance. “This testimony makes it clear that the man you accuse was in another part of the castle when you were attacked.” He noted Kuno’s expression. “The law is clear! Deputy Asodo Kuno, you forget yourself! We excuse you because of the passions clearly roused by your escape.” Magistrate Masura snapped open his fan, signalling that the hearing was at an end. “You are all dismissed.”

The gathering bowed. Magistrate Masura remained in place as people arose and exited the room. His lordship leaned in to whisper to Commander Hijiya, and the armoured man gave a nod. H
ijiya called to Sura, who had detoured over towards the fruit bowl.

“
Priestess Kitsune Sura. You are please to remain.”

Wonderfully at ease, Sura farewelled her comrades and came over to sit happily right at the foot of the
magistrate’s dais – the distance used by an old, old friend. The magistrate cast a measured glance over her – intelligence glittering in his eyes. He folded up his fan, clearly interested by what he saw.

“
Priestess Kitsune nō Sura of Kitsune Mountain. A Kitsune of the prime lineage. A rare visitor indeed.” The magistrate raised one brow. “I am unfamiliar with your parentage?”

The fox waved an easy hand. “
No more than myself, my lord! I was found upon the mountain as an infant. I was adopted by the high priestess, O-Sensei Kitsune nō Iisha.”

Commander
Hijiya seemed unimpressed by Sura’s credentials. He folded his arms.

“
Hmph! Kitsune Sura, you reported a murder when you arrived at the gates earlier today.”

The fox nodd
ed to the man with a sly, competent camaraderie. “I did indeed. A nasty case. Murdered head-man at a village along the road. I gave a report of my findings.”

The magistrate was quite intrigued. “
Your
findings…?”
He stroked at his moustache. “You have investigated the facts of the murder?”

“Yes, my
lord. An intriguing case. Strangulation – a bloodless corpse…”

“Yes – yes…” Lord Masura heaved a sigh, looking tired. “
The hour is late. We shall hear more of this tomorrow. I shall be interested to hear your findings.”

Kitsune Sura gave an elegant, flowing bow. Even in ‘human’ form, her pointed ears, her tail, her bright coloured hair marked her out utterly as a fox. “
I am entirely at your disposal, my Lord Masura.”

She rose to leave –
long tail swishing out behind her skirts. Lord Masura watched her begin to withdraw with great interest – she had a confident gait without the slightest hint of demure feminine grace: decidedly part sage, part performer and part pirate.

“
Kitsune Sura – you describe yourselves as
‘Spirit Hunters’
. A very ancient and long-defunct profession.” He was decidedly intrigued. “Why?”

The fox
made an eloquent swirl of her tail. “Well – it has the advantage of having very little competition.”

“Indeed.”

Suddenly the fox’s eyes were sharp, serious and bright – as penetrating as a spear.

“And the time is right.”

Lamp light flickered red across the snarling masks. Old ghost stories somehow seemed to linger in the shadows. There was a sense – a strange sense – that the fox woman was in the right. There were strange things loose in the world. Outside, rain lashed at the castle walls. The darkness seemed somehow watchful and absolute. Magistrate Masura was suddenly glad to be inside – well away from things that lurked in shadow…

He shivered
: but the thought was unworthy of a samurai. The magistrate shook the feeling away and straightened his back, feeling tired, and thought longingly of bed.

“
Yes. In any case, as an ‘official’ observer from Kitsune Mountain, I shall ask you to keep your entourage under control.

“Dismissed.”

With an easy flourish, Sura bowed.

“
Good night to you, my lord – goodnight!” She left with a wry swish of her tail. “May you be blessed by loyal friends, and by extremely fickle fleas.”

The room seemed oddly empty once she had gone. Magistrate Masura heaved a sigh, feeling the weigh of a long, hard day. He discovered that his cup of tea was empty, and set it aside.

“Is there more tea?”

“I shall send for some, my lord!” Ever the perfect retainer, commander Hijiya Hoichi gave a brisk, efficient bow. “But we have had gift from the Usada shrine! Ripe peaches sent from their hot house at the springs!
”

Hijiya
Hoichi rose and proudly reached for the fruit bowl. Much to his surprise, it was utterly empty – when he was certain it had held half a dozen peaches only an hour before. He put the bowl back down and glared towards the door through which the fox woman had disappeared.

Magistrate
Masura stretched, making the bones of his shoulders crack. “What is it, Hoichi san?”

“Nothing, my lord.” Commander Hijiya gave a scowl. “I shall send for more tea.”

Kuno stood in a castle corridor, mastering himself. Guards were at every level of the staircase, and servants drifted past bearing trays of tea. Chiri remained close, her air elemental sitting in her hair and twinkling its wings, while the rock elemental sat inside her sleeve. She looked anxiously up to Kuno, and her mere presence steadied his heart.

Tonbo appeared behind them. He put one big hand upon Kuno’s shoulder in support. He then went down the stairs, looking carefully l
eft and right, clearing the way ahead.

Broad and magnificent,
Lord Ishigi came along the corridor, trailing a pair of Ishigi samurai guards. He stopped before Kuno and Chiri, and looked the rat girl over in chuckling delight. He noted the two elementals – her long white hair – and gave a laugh of sheer roguish delight.

“
You beat him with a pair of old farming sickles, eh?”

Lord Ishigi laughed heartily. He walked off into the castle, thoroughly pleased, shaking his head at the wondrous marvels that the day had brought.

Downstairs, Tonbo had
taken up his tetsubo, ready to obliterate any swordsmen who might come too close for comfort. He made ready to escort Kuno and Chiri back to the dormitories. The pair quietly joined him, waiting by the gates. They tied on straw hats to hold off the pouring rain.

From the floor above,
Hamada Bunji watched them from shadows. He glowered, then withdrew slowly away from the stairwell. He turned, and found Sano Moko watching him from the shadows.

The female s
amurai passed him by – and then stopped. She did not turn to look at him.

Her voice was filled with dark, calculating disdain.

“Do not imagine that you have escaped, Hamada Bunji.” The woman’s knuckles were white about the hilt of her short sword. “He who lives without honour, deserves a death without honour.”

Sano Moko walked on. Hamada Bunji whirled and walked away – back into the shadows.

Sura emerged from behind a nearby pillar, thoughtfully eating a peach. She cocked an eye and watched Sano Moko depart, then turned to flick a considering glance towards Hamada Bunji.

Interesting…

Sura finished her peach and popped the pit into an offering bowl that stood before a statue of Amida Buddha. Wiping off her hands, she walked down the stairs towards her friends, musing over the interesting events of the day.

It was a wet, tense walk back to the dormitory buildings. The gardens were dark – all except for faint orange glimmers o
f lamplight in the castle towers. Rain fell gently but steadily – except upon Sura, who had appropriated a painted umbrella from the castle. She shared it with Chiri, and turned into her furred form to help shed the water. Once again, she travelled with her spear unsheathed. No one saw fit to complain.

The dormitory bu
ildings were remarkably quiet now – oppressed by the dishonour of Hamada Bunji’s attack. The party goers had all dispersed to their rooms, and the maids moved quietly about, setting the halls to rights. Only the monk remained on the porch, quietly telling his beads, the bell softly ringing after measured set of prayers. Kuno bowed to the man. The monk nodded, his basket shifting ever so slightly in acknowledgement as the group walked past.

Their room was off around a corner, overlooking the little stream.
Following on the tail of the air elemental, Sura sailed into the room and propped her umbrella against the porch wall to dry. She shook herself like a dog – managing to shower rainwater all over the screens and the tatami mats. Her fur stood out in a ridiculous puff, and had the oddest smell – somewhere between that of wet dog and wet cat. She headed eagerly over to a little charcoal stove, and found that the maids had thoughtfully left a pot of water waiting. Sura rummaged about, threw in half a handful of tea leaves, and set the thing to boil.