They flew above it all. The pale girl swathed in mourning black, long hair flowing in the piercing wind. The boy with his dirty rags and dark, knowing eyes. The majestic beast beneath them, twenty-five feet of clockwork wings, cutting effortlessly through the sky.
Kin was perched behind her on Buruu’s back, one arm wrapped about her waist, the other hanging bloody at his side. He was obviously exhausted, shoulders slumped, head hung low. Yukiko could feel the heat of him through their clothing, hear the faint catch in his breath. Her mouth dry, stomach curdling with fading adrenaline. It’d been nearly two months since she’d seen him last—this boy who’d saved her life, who’d given up everything he was to see Buruu freed. In the chaos after Yoritomo’s death, the riots, her speeches, the threat of civil war, she’d spent every spare moment searching for him; urging the Kagé city cells to be on the lookout, patrolling the Iishi’s edge for hours on end in the hope of catching a glimpse. They’d owed him that much. That much and more. And now, to find him at last …
“Are you sure you’re all right, Kin-san?”
Yukiko spoke over her shoulder, concerned eyes hidden by polarized glass.
“Well enough,” he breathed. “My arm is bleeding…”
“We’re still an hour or so from the village. Can you hold on until then?”
A slow nod. “It took me over a month to get this far. A few more minutes won’t kill me.”
“Wandering the Iishi alone might have, though,” Yukiko said. “You were traveling the wrong way. Headed right toward Black Temple. You could have run into an oni, or gods know what else. The Kagé village is northeast of here.”
“I know,” he nodded. “Once I realized the ironclads were on my trail, I tried leading them away from the stronghold. I didn’t want to put anyone else in danger.”
Yukiko smiled, reached down and squeezed Kin’s hand. She should have known. Just as selfless as always. His own safety ever a distant second. Her thoughts were all a-tumble, emotions jostling for position in her chest; joy they’d found him, guilt it had taken so long, genuine fear at how close he’d come to death. Underscoring it all, the feel of his body pressed against hers, his hand about her waist, the tumult of confusion and adrenaline and Buruu’s fading bloodlust thudding in time with her own racing pulse.
She drew one shuddering breath, let it out slow.
“Try to get some rest, Kin-san. You’re safe now.”
They flew on toward the Kagé village, the smoke of the ironclads they’d torn from the sky still hanging in their wake. Kin rested his head against her back and closed his eyes, his breath slowing, exhaustion getting the better of him. Buruu’s muscles seethed beneath them, his eyes narrowed, amber and gold, glittering like embers in a forge’s belly. Sleek feathers and thick fur, the color of melting snow on the Iishi’s highest peaks, his hindquarters wrapped in long, snaking bands of deepest jet. Thunder tiger. Arashitora. The last of his kind in all of Shima.
His thoughts were intertwined with hers, images echoing in each other’s skulls, the pair of them linked by a bond deeper than blood. Yukiko and Buruu. Buruu and Yukiko. Harder and harder to tell where one ended and the other began these days. The ability to speak to the minds of beasts was called the Kenning in old folklore, but to even give it a name seemed to lessen it now. The truth was, it was more than a thing of weak and clumsy words. It was her father’s legacy, his gift to her, forging a friendship that had defied a Shōgun, ended an empire.
It was a reminder. A birthright. A blessing.
A curse?
THE BOY IS LUCKY WE FOUND HIM BEFORE ANY DEMONS DID.
She winced as Buruu’s thoughts filled her own, just a touch louder than they’d ever been before. The sky seemed a little too bright. Her skull a fraction too small.
I know. The western slopes are crawling with them lately.
FOOLISH OF HIM. STILL, I AM GLAD HE IS SAFE.
You must be. You didn’t even call him “monkey-child.”
WELL, DO NOT TELL HIM THAT. I HAVE A GRUFF DEMEANOR TO MAINTAIN.
Laughter died on her lips almost as soon as it had begun. Yukiko pushed up her goggles, pressed her fingers into her eyes. Pain throbbed at the base of her skull, the echoes of Buruu’s thoughts sending barbed tendrils up and across her temples. Ice-cold and burning.
YOUR HEAD STILL HURTS?
Only a little.
YOU ARE A TERRIBLE LIAR, GIRL.
There are worse character flaws. All things considered.
THIS PAIN HAS LINGERED FOR WEEKS. THIS IS NOT NORMAL.
I have more important things to worry about than headaches, Buruu.
FORTUNATE THEN, THAT I DO NOT.
You fret too much.
AND YOU NEVER ENOUGH.
You know what they say. Kitsune looks after his own.
Yukiko pressed against the mighty beast beneath her, felt the blood-red percussion of his pulse, the smooth motion of his flight. She ran her hands through the arashitora’s feathers, following the glass-smooth lines down his shoulders until her fingertips brushed the metal framing his crippled wings. The feathers clipped by a madman, barely a month in his grave.