“It was not my decision.”
It took ōkami only a moment to understand. Then he laughed softly. Bitterly. “Of course it wasn’t.”
“We told her we could find a way to get her out safely, my lord,” Yorishige said. “But Lady Mariko …” He trailed off.
Ren harrumphed. “She declined, like the little half-wit she is.”
Though anger flared near ōkami’s heart, pride swelled alongside it. Hattori Mariko had never been one to choose the easy path. Nor did she make decisions from a place of fear. Her courage made him stand taller, despite the task set before them now.
The task set before Mariko, as the new bride of Prince Raiden.
Tsuneoki studied his friend. “You’re worried about her marrying that foul boy.”
ōkami said nothing for a time. “Mariko is more than capable of caring for herself. I know she will always make the best decision she can, given the circumstances.” His features hardened, causing him to grimace. “But if Minamoto Raiden touches her against her will, no one will be able to save him. Not even the sun goddess herself.”
Ren’s eyes narrowed to slits. “If he hurts Mariko, we’ll make him wish he were dead, several times over.”
Tsuneoki said nothing, though his eyes indicated his agreement. They waited in silence for a beat. Then Tsuneoki consulted his map once more. Directed them down another corridor, toward a low-ceilinged tunnel, slick with mold and lichen. ōkami nearly lost consciousness from the pain of forcing his shattered body to move. Finally they stopped beside the entrance to a large drain. Stinking water flowed past their feet, picking up speed as it turned a bend.
“There are not many reasons for this kind of unrest within the walls of Heian Castle,” Tsuneoki said. “If it’s what I think it is, soldiers will be watching every entrance and exit now. We’ll wait until the tumult dies down, then make our escape.”
Ren sniffed with distaste. “Right alongside their waste.”
As soon as they’d made it through the drain and into the open air, ōkami turned his face to the moonlight. Its unchecked power entered his body in a rush. He gritted his teeth against the searing sensation as his demon tried to stitch him back together from the inside. Though the pain was excruciating, he was unsurprised by its force. ōkami’s shapeless demon did not love him. Its dark magic was not meant to be a gift. It intended to cause him pain. It fed on his pain, just as ōkami took his strength from it. In the deepest recesses of his mind, he heard the faceless creature speak, its words an icy whisper in his ear:
This will cost you.
ōkami knew it would. Had always known it would. And he would give it, until there was nothing left to give. To this demon, he was eternally loyal. The hum of magic curled through his ears, and ōkami attempted to take flight in a burst of dark smoke. He turned his eyes to the moon again.
It failed him. Again.
A wave of pain tore through his chest. He cried out, a curse barreling from his bleeding lips. If ōkami’s demon betrayed him now, all their lives would be at risk.
His friends—his family—would die for it.
And Mariko …
“He’s too weak,” Ren said, panic underscoring his words. “It’s not working.” The boy’s typically cruel demeanor was nowhere to be found. Tsuneoki helped brace ōkami while Yorishige moved ahead to scout the landscape. Vegetation grew high on the hillside just to the right of the drain, concealing them from view.
Tsuneoki said, “Then we’ll carry him out of the city.”
“No.” ōkami spat the blood and salt from his mouth. “You’ll be caught.”
“You think we didn’t consider that before coming here?” Tsuneoki shot back.
ōkami almost smiled. “I’ve missed you, you bastard.” He slumped against Ren, the pain turning his sight black for an instant.
“Stop acting like a child,” Ren demanded. “Stand up straight. Fight.” His words reminded ōkami of Mariko and her countless admonishments. She wanted him to be more. They all wanted ōkami to be more.
ōkami let his head loll again, his eyes drifting closed.
Why did they not realize their words fell on deaf ears? What would it take for them to understand he was not worth such faith? ōkami wished he could return to his cell. Wished he could continue receiving the blows he’d deserved for a decade. He flinched as he recalled a particularly vicious kick to the head that had sent stars across his vision.
Even his father’s sword had gleamed with promise when ōkami had drawn near. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, that ridiculous blade believed in him, if the lore were to be held as true. It was supposed to recognize the pure heart of a warrior. There was nothing pure about ōkami, even if the blood of Takeda Shingen flowed through his veins. ōkami did not want the responsibility. What had his father’s pure heart earned him in the end?
A chance to die in front of his only son.
ōkami opened his eyes and glared at the night sky. He let the hum rise once more in his throat, the vibrations ripple over his broken bones. He bit his tongue until more blood pooled in his mouth. His body was too damaged. The demon had turned its back on him. ōkami’s knees started to give. He wanted to sleep. To lose consciousness and fade into nothingness.
Tsuneoki grabbed him by the collar. “Takeda Ranmaru, don’t you dare—”
An arrow hissed through the vegetation, a hairsbreadth from Tsuneoki’s head. Yorishige burst through the curtain of vines concealing them, his features horror-struck, just as a second arrow rasped from the darkness at his back. It struck Yorishige spearing clear through his chest, killing him instantly. He toppled to the ground like a doll, his mouth hung open in dismay.
“Get to the clearing!” Tsuneoki said before fading into the darkness. Disappearing from sight.
“There are more men beside the drain,” a voice cried out from beyond the vines. “They tried to murder our emperor. Show them no mercy!” The roar of gathering soldiers—their armor clanging through the air like warning bells—grew with each passing moment.
“Go with Tsuneoki,” ōkami said to Ren, his eyes locked on Yorishige’s motionless form.
Ren leaned ōkami against the drain, then whipped his hooked swords from his back and assumed a fighting stance.
“Leave me,” ōkami said. “Get out of here, you fool!”
“Not a chance, my lord,” Ren shot back under his breath before dissolving into the shadows on the other side of the drain.
Again ōkami glowered at the moonlit sky, a wave of pain swelling across his body. An arrow whistled past his shoulder, nicking the skin of his arm. Another rebounded off the drain. Though it had taken ōkami off guard to watch his friend vanish at the first sign of a threat, at least Tsuneoki had known better than to stay. ōkami was grateful for his friend’s pragmatism. The men of the Black Clan would need their leader. Soldiers crashed through the vines, their weapons raised, their shining blades catching the stars above.
As the light of the moon continued burning through him—trying in vain to stitch his broken bones back together—ōkami used the sturdy stone of the drain to keep his body upright. He struggled to breathe. Fought to find focus so that he might defend himself. As the soldiers came toward him—weapons in hand, arrows pointed at his heart—a figure advanced through the darkness, a pair of hooked swords linked as they slashed through the air.
An arm was severed from the soldier bearing down on ōkami. Howling in pain, the man fell into the tall grass, blood spurting through the sky in a wicked arc. The other soldiers turned to meet this new foe. Arrows rained down around them without a shred of mercy.
Ren charged. He fought—a blade in either hand—his eyes glowing with rage. An animalistic growl emanated from behind him. A growl ōkami would recognize anywhere. Before the soldiers could blink, a nightbeast leapt into the fray, snarling as it ripped an axe from a soldier’s grasp, taking a hand with it.