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CHAPTER SIX

“I told you to leave.”

Koichi ignored Hanzō’s distracted tone as he dumped the bundle in his arms down on the table in front of his former commander. The porcelain teapot and cup jingled and threatened to spill.

Furious, the old samurai shot to his feet, then froze as he realized who had dared such an affront.

Not that Koichi cared. He’d once dared a lot more than this. “I didn’t get your notice, Sunshine. Maybe you should pick a better messenger next time.”

Hanzō curled his lip. “What are you doing here? I thought you had a rock to crawl under and a bottle of sake to consume.”

“I did, and I was happy there. Sadly, you called me out and gave me a job and responsibility I didn’t want. I’m really resentful about it.” He gestured at the small lump in front of Hanzō, at their feet. Nothing could wake the boy. “Now I’m here for answers. And you’re going to explain some things for me.”

Hanzō raked him with a scathing sneer. Not that Koichi expected anything less. He’d just disrespected him.

In his own home.

He was lucky Hanzō hadn’t drawn on him. Or rather, Hanzō was lucky that Koichi hadn’t drawn on him . While Hanzō might be a renowned samurai, they both knew who would win in a duel.

Even half sober, Koichi was still the best swordsman in Japan. No one, not even Hanzō, refuted that.

And it wasn’t like anything good ever came from Koichi. In fact, trouble dogged his heels as if they were magnets for it.

No doubt his old commander planned to cut him down where he stood if the next words out of his mouth didn’t justify his actions.

So be it. He just might not fight back, for once.

Gently, Koichi unwrapped Ryuichi so that Hanzō could see his unconscious state. The boy’s skin was pale and his breathing shallow. Bruises marred his young, handsome features, and blood was crusted around his nose.

The alarming sight did nothing to change the pique on Hanzō’s face, or the sarcasm in his voice. “Let me guess. Our mission was as successful as always? At least you appear sober. That’s a nice change of pace.”

“Don’t get cute, Cousin. Who is this boy? Really?”

Hanzō shrugged. “A foundling.”

“And so—what? You just decided to bring him here to your home?” That was so out of character for a man who only took in boys and girls from respectable houses and notable families.

Hanzō might call them “foundlings,” but he usually found them only in the homes of the best people.

“It seemed like a good idea.”

How? Had Hanzō gone mad? “And why’s that?”

“The boy was skilled, and I thought we could use someone who was already advanced in his training.”

Koichi laughed and stepped back, his hand hovering over his sword.

How he ached to let it fly from its scabbard. To challenge the fool before him over such a pompous, stupid act as to bring in a boy with the powers Ryuichi possessed.

But he knew better.

While he, too, was still a samurai, Koichi was well aware that no one else saw it that way.

Least of all his famed cousin, who thought him only half a step up from a peasant.

At the end of the day, Koichi was ronin. Without a master. And all because the one he’d served had been killed in a foolish quest while Koichi had done his best to save him.

Yes, he’d avenged his master, but no one else had seen it. No one knew what he’d done for his master, or Japan. Nor did anyone believe it.

So he’d been left adrift. Hated and repelled by everyone. No decent samurai would allow him near their service.

Had his cousin Hanzō not taken him in, Koichi would have been driven to death by now.

By his own hand or someone else’s.

But he was stronger than that. He’d promised his master that he would continue to hold the code they’d sworn themselves to. To keep back the monsters who preyed on innocence. No matter if he was mocked and belittled for protecting this world. Hated for keeping others safe. Even if no one vouched for him, not even his own cousin.

So he’d been relegated by his honor. To endure this horrific existence while he was shamed.

And it was horrible. As if life itself begrudged him every breath he took. That was why Koichi had crawled into his sake and stayed there. It at least made all of this tolerable.

Now...

“Do you know who his parents are, Hanzō?”

“Minor riffraff. He’s an orphan with no family name.”

Koichi winced. Not only at Hanzō’s arrogance but his stupidity.

If there was one thing Koichi had learned over the years, it was that the only thing more dangerous than a demon was a stubborn samurai. At least demons practiced self-preservation.

A samurai didn’t mind dying so long as they did it with honor... and style.

Laughing bitterly, Koichi shook his head. “I had no idea the great Hattori Hanzō was such an idiot. You honestly thought some kid without parents shows up, has what it takes to get into this school... and you didn’t even think to ask a single question about where he really came from?”

With that, he had overstepped. Hanzō’s eyes flared as his hand went to his own sword. “It’s not the place of an honorless ronin to question his betters!”

There it was. His cousin’s true feelings at that tiny slip of decorum.

Koichi scoffed. “When my better arrives, please point him out. Until then... you might want to know that you dumped a Shadowling in my lap. I might be a drunk ronin, but you, Hattori Hanzō, are a fool. Why you even wear a helmet when there’s nothing inside it to protect, I have no idea.”

Hanzō immediately stood down. With a gasp, he pulled his hand away from his sword. “What do we do? Kill the boy?”

There it was again.

First answer always. Kill the boy.

Koichi’s gaze went to Ryuichi’s unconscious body. “We don’t know who his parents were or are. We might not be able to kill him. We could just make them angry.”

Hanzō cursed under his breath. “Masaru. That’s why he chose him...”

“Probably, but Masaru doesn’t seem to know anything about the kid either.”

“How could he not?”

That was the question that Koichi kept coming back to. “There’s a lot about this boy we don’t know. But the one thing I’m certain of is that he needs to be specially trained. His powers are incredible.”

Shadowlings were exceptionally rare. Those who could walk in both worlds, who could communicate with the darkest of powers...

It was why Hanzō had allowed Masaru a place in his castle. The ronin inari had been banned from his shrine for treachery, and since then had sold his skills to the dark kami.

While Hanzō didn’t exactly trust Masaru, he trusted the kitsune’s greed and self-preservation.

Hanzō gaped at Koichi. “Special training? He absolutely cannot mix with the others—not after what you just told me, and not when we know nothing of his origins. Or loyalty. Can you imagine what he could do to the students here? Not to mention the rest of us?”

Indeed. If Ryuichi could win over someone’s shadow, he could control them. Turn them against each other. Do all kinds of evil.

Or good. But good was seldom practiced by those with such skills. It was too easy to become corrupted.

“I know, but what if he’s the key to ending the Shadow War?”

That got Hanzō’s attention. He knelt by Ryuichi’s side. “Do you really think that?”

Koichi shrugged. “The kami are angry. Every day more darkness takes over. They are searching for the Kage-taro. What if this boy isn’t just a Shadowling? What if he is the one they’re seeking?”

Hanzō shook his head. “The Kage-taro is a myth.”

“Then why do they seek him?”

“To curry favor with the Ryukage. You know the Kage are insane—they’re searching for the Kage-taro to placate a monster who’s bent on our utter destruction.”

“But what if there really is a son hidden in our world?”

Sighing, Hanzō brushed the hair back from Ryuichi’s cheek. “Impossible. It’s as much a lie as the Kagi-Mori. And even if it wasn’t, such a boy would have been hidden better than this. He’s a Shadowling... a scary trifle and nothing more.”

He met Koichi’s gaze with a stern grimace. “Nobunaga continues to expand and bring in ideas the kami reject. The daimyōs are at each other’s throats. All of Japan is in turmoil. I have a duty to my people first and foremost. I can’t be sidetracked for one boy, no matter how special you might think he is. If you believe what you say, you will have to train him yourself, and keep him from distracting or harming the other students.”

Koichi laughed dryly. “When did you develop a sense of humor, Cousin? I’m awful with kids. In case you hadn’t noticed, the broken and dysfunctional ones you send me remain broken and dysfunctional.”

Hanzō rose and clapped him on the back. “Who better to teach them than one of their own? You understand them.”

“I think a demon just ate my brain.” That was the only reason that would cause him to even consider this.

Hanzō snorted. “You’ll be fine.”

Koichi rolled his eyes. “Isn’t that what you said before you dumped the Kai-dan on me the first time?”

“I have all faith in you.”

“Not what you said when I walked in.”

“I have newfound faith in you.”

Koichi curled his lip. “You’re the spittle on the back of a toad.”

“And I am trusting you to watch this boy and train him. Kill him if you can’t.”

Wonderful. Teacher or executioner . Neither was a role he wanted or relished.

Yet in that moment, for the first time in years, he heard the rustling of the universe in his ears.

The fate of all is in your hands.

Even better.

The kami had to be out of their minds to give that responsibility to a drunken fool who’d lost all faith in everything and everyone.

You’re still samurai.

Yes, but more than that, he was Kai-dan—fractured and held together by sake and venom. Not gold. Not even honor...

At least not anymore.

What was the old saying? Even monkeys fall from trees.

He must have fallen on his head.

Why would the kami choose him unless they wanted chaos? Maybe that was their purpose.

Nothing ruined the world faster than chaos. It was why structure was so important. So needed.

Yet he felt none of that right now. All he knew was the weight of a world that seemed to hate him.

Growling with regret, Koichi picked Ryuichi up so that he could carry him to the infirmary, where the monks tended the sick and injured. As he left Hanzō’s study, he almost ran into the man’s daughter, who was hiding in the shadows.

Takara. That was her name. By the curious light in her eyes, he could tell she’d been listening to them.

“Of private things you are silent. Do you understand me, girl?”

She nodded. “I won’t betray Ryuichi.”

“See that you don’t.” Praying she held her loyalty, Koichi moved around her and quickly made his way toward the small building reserved for the infirmary. It was placed away from the other buildings so that the kegare wouldn’t infect anything else.

Not that he cared. He was already treated as if he were walking defilement.

In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt as if he belonged anywhere. Especially not in this world.

Trying not to think about that, Koichi entered the infirmary. The sparse place smelled of incense and spice. No one tolerated anything unclean, and only those being punished were sent here to tend these poor suffering souls. Just being here tainted anyone who dared enter, and thus they required purification before mingling with others.

Most of the occupants were here due to illnesses or injuries sustained in practice, but the one on his right...

An apparition hung silently in the corner. Watching. Waiting.

Koichi saw the pride in the ghost’s eyes over the injuries he’d caused the child it hovered over. He would never be able to understand how anyone—or anything—could derive pleasure by harming someone else.

It was sickening, really.

Beside the unconscious boy, a monk was praying for his recovery with no idea the demon he should be driving out was standing beside them, laughing as it watched on with pitiless eyes.

I’ll deal with you shortly...

First, he had Ryuichi to see after.

Another monk approached him. “May I help you?”

“Yeah. I have a delivery.” Koichi lay his bundle down on an empty futon, then carefully uncovered the boy.

The monk gasped at the sight. “What happened?”

“He was in a fight. Apparently, he lost.”

Unamused by the curt explanation, the monk knelt beside Ryuichi and inspected his wounds.

They were all physical, easily treated, unlike the inner wounds Koichi held, which never healed. Those scars made him wonder how he was still sane.

Satisfied with his inspection, the monk looked up. “Should I report this one ‘missing’ too?”

Koichi cringed and looked about, terrified someone might have overheard. Relieved that no one was close to them, he shook his head.

For once, there was no need. Unlike the other injured Kai-dan students, Ryuichi would be staying and not fleeing into the mountains to hide with the other monks, where they’d be safe from this school that was intent on punishing them for not fitting in. For being a little different from the rest.

Like him.

“That won’t be necessary. At least I hope it won’t be.”

The monk bowed. “As you say, my lord. But I’ll make preparations, just in case.” Clearing his throat, the monk slid his gaze to the back of the infirmary and began chanting.

Koichi caught the subtle gesture and gently retrieved Ryuichi. He followed the monk to a secluded back room, where the others couldn’t see them.

There, a mirror was hung.

Only it wasn’t a mirror. This was a special portal that was activated by the monk’s spell that the old man disguised as a prayer.

Making sure no one else saw them, Koichi stepped into the real “back” room.

This was a dark place, not known by most of the staff in the school. It was concealed from even the yōkai. Indeed, in the hidden world of monsters and gods, there were some things that even those primal and dark powers didn’t know existed... because they didn’t need to know.

This was one of them, protected by wards and spells to ensure that no one discovered it. The room allowed special patients the opportunity to recover in safety.

The elderly monk must have sensed the same powers in Ryuichi that Koichi had felt, and he wanted him here so that nothing else found the boy while he healed.

Koichi gently placed Ryuichi on the nearest futon. “What do you think he is?”

“Special.”

Koichi didn’t need sight for that. “You know what I’m asking.”

The monk shook his head. “There are those who are born gifted. Those who can talk directly to the gods and summon them.”

“Some who are born cursed.” Like him. At least that was how Koichi felt most days. He’d never wanted the ability to see the things he saw.

Or hear them. Never mind be honor bound to fight them.

The monk nodded. “This boy is different.”

“How so?”

There was a light in the monk’s eyes that said he felt exactly what Koichi did. “His powers are unique in this world, and he needs to be guarded.”

Koichi bowed. “Please let me know when he awakens.”

“I will.”

And with that, Koichi headed off through the mirror toward the infirmary, to deal with the ghost that needed banishing.

The monk watched until Koichi vanished.

Only in the shimmering light did Keiko catch sight of herself before her image settled back into the visage of the old monk who’d spoken with Koichi. Satisfied that her monk form was holding, she returned to Ryuichi so that she could inspect her charge. “What happened to you, child?”

But then she knew. He’d almost been exposed.

So very close.

She’d barely made it to him before they’d discovered Ryuichi’s real identity. And Koichi...

There was a complication she hadn’t anticipated. The ronin who’d been a member of the Monban. And here she’d thought them all dead.

How had any survived?

They should have all perished with Ryuichi’s mother. They’d been valiant protectors. Noble samurai who’d sworn themselves to his mother’s cause.

“Perhaps it’s good that one still lives,” she whispered. A guardian who might protect their heir could come in handy.

If he didn’t kill the boy first.