Page 26

Chapter 26

Kaneko

F ires raged in every direction, consuming homes, shops, and lives with gluttonous fervor. The wind howled through the streets like a living thing, hurling embers across rooftops.

I darted between buildings, my heart pounding, lungs heaving as smoke clawed at my throat. My eyes were wild, desperate, searching for Yoshi. He’d vanished into the smoke and with him went my last thread of sanity.

Wakō swarmed through the town like locusts, leaving devastation in their wake. They killed without thought, stole without hesitation. They raged with primal hunger, the kind that didn’t listen to reason or mercy. This was no battle. It was slaughter, a grotesque carnival of death.

Ahead, a woman screamed.

I pressed myself against the charred remains of a building as two pirates dragged her past, her kimono ripped, her face streaked with soot and blood. One pirate laughed as she thrashed in his grip. The other cursed as she kicked him, then drove his blade into her stomach. She gasped, a soft, broken sound that somehow pierced the chaos. They left her body crumpled on the cobblestones like discarded trash.

I clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle a sob. My muscles ached from crouching, from holding my breath, from sheer terror.

I had to move.

I had to find Yoshi.

Breaking cover, I bolted down an alley, my feet skidding on blood-slick stones. Smoke wrapped around me, thick and relentless. It burned my eyes and choked my lungs. The noise of battle battered my ears—the metallic clash of swords, the guttural cries of the dying, the eerie laughter of men reveling in destruction.

A shadow shifted to my left.

I ducked behind a collapsed cart.

Across the street, a shirtless pirate pinned a girl against a wall. Her shriek cut off with sickening abruptness as he struck her, then pressed his body against hers. I looked away, bile rising in my throat.

The thatch above me caught fire with a crackling roar.

I sprang forward, abandoning caution.

My legs burned with exertion.

My chest heaved.

“There! Another one!” a voice cried.

Panic drove me, raw and absolute.

I veered left, then right, trying to lose them in the labyrinth of destruction. A sudden clearing appeared before me—a wide street choked with corpses and debris. I dashed across it.

From every side, men appeared.

Four, five, six—pirates with curved swords and faces painted with soot and blood. They formed a loose ring, blades glinting in the firelight.

My breath faltered.

My gaze darted from face to face, seeking an opening.

There was none.

The heat of the fires wrapped around me like a smothering cloak as my pulse roared in my ears. I raised my fists, a pathetic gesture, but instinct demanded I try.

The pirates laughed and shouted taunts, slurs on tongues drunk with bloodlust.

The ring began to close about me.

I shifted my stance, whipping my head one way, then the other, unable to focus on a single man before the next stepped forward, sword or pike raised and ready.

This can’t be how I die, I thought, though I saw no path to salvation.

Then a single clear voice cut through the cacophony. “What is this?”

The circle widened, then parted.

A man stepped forward, his stride unhurried, his expression one of mild amusement. Unlike the other pirates whose clothes were filthy with gore, he wore tailored trousers and a long coat embroidered with unfamiliar patterns, the fabric untouched by soot or blood. Hair, long and dark, flowed across muscled shoulders.

But it was his eyes that rooted me to the spot.

Cold and calculating, they held the sharpness of a predator that understood its prey completely.

“Back!” he ordered.

The pirates obeyed, lowering their weapons and stepping back. One gave a disgruntled grunt but held his tongue.

The man approached, his boots crunching over gravel. I matched each of his steps with a backward one of my own until my back hit a scorched wall, the ring broken and allowing our dance to ensue.

“No need to fear,” he said in a baritone, soft and almost soothing. “Little Fox.”

His hand reached toward my face.

I jerked away, and his smile deepened.

“Such spirit,” he murmured.

I lashed out, slapping his hand aside.

His response was instant. A fist slammed into my stomach, doubling me over. Pain exploded through my core, and I collapsed to my knees, retching.

“Yes,” the man said with quiet satisfaction. “You will do nicely.”

A shadow loomed behind him.

Before I could react, a pair of massive hands clamped around my arms, hoisting me upright with cruel ease. I twisted and kicked, but the grip held firm.

The first man crouched, bringing his face close to mine. “I’m Fujita Kichi, Taichou of The Emperor’s Worm . And you, Little Fox, belong to me now.”

I spat in his face.

He stilled . . . and smiled , a grotesque show of bloody pleasure.

His tongue flicked out to taste the blood-spittle mixture, then laughed, a low, rumbling sound that curdled my insides.

“Ushi.” He glanced to the giant holding me down. “Take him. No one touches him. He is mine.”

The colossus gave a grunt of acknowledgment and hefted me to my feet. My heels dangled inches above the ground as Ushi hauled me toward the coast.

Kichi followed, humming a cheerful tune amid the screams and crackle of burning timber. “Sleep now,” he said, reaching up and pressing a cloth to my face.

The world tilted, but darkness did not come gently.

It pulled me into a suffocating void where disjointed images flickered like phantom lanterns through my mind: Yoshi’s face streaked with soot and fear; the woman’s lifeless eyes staring from the cobblestones; the sickening crack of wood collapsing in the flames. The scent of burning timber, acrid and relentless, clung to me even in unconsciousness.

When awareness returned, pain greeted me first: a sharp ache in my arms from the relentless grip of the man—Ushi, Kichi had called him. My wrists burned where his fingers had dug into my flesh. My stomach throbbed from Kichi’s earlier blow. The ground beneath me shifted with the unmistakable rhythm of waves lapping against a hull.

A ship? I was on a ship?

My eyes snapped open.

Rough wooden planks enclosed me in a dim, swaying chamber. Light leaked through gaps in the boards, casting jagged lines across the floor. The air reeked of brine, tar, and unwashed bodies.

I tried to sit up.

My wrists were bound behind me with thick, coarse rope. My ankles, too, had been shackled together. Panic surged through me, and I twisted against my restraints until the fibers burned into my skin.

A chuckle from the shadows stilled my heart.

“Awake already?” The voice was familiar, smooth and amused.

Kichi Taichou stepped into the light.

His coat was gone, replaced by a loose, sleeveless shirt that revealed a muscular chest and powerful arms adorned with tattoos—dragons coiled around his biceps, waves cresting along his forearms. Beyond the ink, his skin was unmarred by scars or time, though it held the rich color of one who spent his life beneath the withering sun. His smile was as I recalled from the road: pleasant, unhurried, and wholly devoid of warmth.

“Welcome aboard The Worm ,” he said with a flourish and mocking bow. “Comfortable?”

I didn’t answer. My gaze darted toward the door behind him.

“Ah, thinking of escape already.” Kichi squatted before me, his elbows resting on his knees. “I admire your optimism.”

He reached out and cupped my chin, tilting my head to examine me like a merchant inspecting a piece of pottery. “Smooth skin, sharp eyes, and that delicious fire.” He ran a thumb across my jaw. “You’ll fetch a high price in the southern markets . . . if I can bear to part with you.”

Revulsion surged through me. I jerked my head free.

“You won’t get the chance,” I spat.

His laughter was genuine this time, full-throated and cruel. “Oh, Little Fox, you haven’t grasped your situation yet, have you?” He stood and paced the small space. “Your town is gone. Your friends? Dead or taken. Your family? If they lived there, assume the worst. And you?” He turned to me, eyes glinting in the dimness, and cupped my cheek as a mother might her child. “You are mine, mind, body, and soul. The sooner you surrender to this fate, the sooner you will enjoy it. And trust me, I know how to make a man enjoy himself.”

Terror coiled through me. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, forcing myself not to show my fear.

Kichi seemed to sense it anyway, as all beasts did. “You will learn. The day will come when you welcome my presence, crave it, beg me for it.”

He rapped on the door with his knuckles, and it swung open to reveal Ushi standing like a stone sentinel.

“Bring him topside,” Kichi ordered. “Let him see what remains of his world.”

Ushi bent and tossed me over his shoulder as though I weighed nothing. The room swam around me as I dangled, helpless, blood rushing to my head.

The door creaked shut behind us.

Steps groaned beneath Ushi’s tread as he carried me upward. My mind raced, searching for a plan, an opportunity. I twisted, but his iron grip held firm.

We emerged into the blinding light of day. I squinted against the glare.

Where did the storm go? How long did I sleep?

The deck beneath me rolled with the waves. Pirates bustled about—some coiling ropes, others cleaning or sharpening blades still stained with blood.

“Over here,” Kichi called.

Ushi carried me to the ship’s railing and dumped me on the sun-warmed planks. I gasped as pain jolted through my limbs. Kichi crouched beside me and gripped the back of my hair, forcing me to look toward the distant shore.

Smoke rose in thick columns from the remains of Tooi. The town was unrecognizable—a scorched skeleton of collapsed buildings. Bodies—I assumed they were bodies, but could only see dark smears against the sand—littered the shoreline. Figures moved among the wreckage: survivors searching for loved ones or wakō hunting for stragglers.

“Beautiful, is it not?” Kichi whispered in my ear. “The Asami Daimyo ’s reminder of how fleeting life truly is.”

Asami?

My mind reeled as my eyes burned with unshed tears. Somewhere in that ruin, Yoshi might still be alive. Or he might be dead.

No, he’s alive. He has to be alive.

Sweet Amaterasu, let him live.