Chapter III—The Swordsman and the Supporter

Rōkura opened her eyes and squinted, but otherwise she felt fine. Her headache had gone after being in the hotspring, thankfully.

And then…

She had killed Ken-sama!

She lurched up to a sitting position with a surprised gasp, realized her cloak bunching up at her waist. Who had put that atop her?

She glanced to the side where she found Shinjiro glancing away.

“I see you are awake.”

Quickly she got up and put the cloak over her shoulders, fastening it with her belt, which she noticed was conspicuously absent of her sword.

“You were naked,” he said in way of explanation. “I thought it decent to cover you while you were unconscious.”

“You may turn,” she said, feeling her cheeks heat.

The swordsman did so, looked at for a moment, then his eyes flicked over to Ken-sama’s body. “I am surprised you were able to defeat him.”

She wondered why he hadn’t bound her. The swordsman tried to confront her last night, and yet she escaped. “You had me at your will,” she said. “Why am I not bound now?”

As the breeze fluttered the hair on the back of his neck, a subtle bemusement touched his lips. “I am not so naive to believe bindings an hold you, especially if you can beat Ken-sama.”

What he spoke was the truth. No, this young woman with the horns would not go anywhere against her will, and even if he could arrest her here and now, he no longer believed with full certainty that she was actually involved with the killings. But I must ask her to find out.

Narrowing her eyes, Rōkura wondered what this man was thinking. What does he want from me, and why did he try to stop Ken-sama from killing me if he thinks me a murderer?

“Tell me something,” he said.

“What?”

“Why did you not kill anyone in the prison?”

“They were weak—I had no need to kill any of them.”

“And myself?”

“You are weak.”

His sniffed with amusement. “And had I tried to stop you from escaping?”

She remembered what she had done at the prison and almost laughed. Those fools had brought it on themselves. Now that her sympathies weren’t as strong, Rōkura noticed a playful nature, if somewhat cruel in nature.

“You would have ended in the same situation as the others at the prison.”

“Then it is fortunate my friends and I did not challenge you right then and there.”

“Are you going to try to stop me now?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Then give me back my sword.”

He took pause for a moment. “I am afraid… that I cannot do that—not in good conscience.”

“What good conscience?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “You know nothing about me!”

With a nod, he said, “I know. Which is why I must be careful.”

“I can kill you where you stand, swordsman.”

“But will you?”

“If you think me a murderer, then why risk that?”

Shinjiro was uncertain whether he should tell her as he scratched the back of his head. He decided to anyway. “I have my suspicions that you aren’t who the others claim you to be. It was one of the administrator’s officials who took us out on that hunt. How he seemed to know what had happened is an odd thing, I think.”

“Do you really believe I killed those people?”

With a shrug, he said, “I saw what you did to those wolves—to the trees.”

It was logical to assume Rōkura could not control herself, or if she could, that she was a wild monster. That’s what he thinks I am. Or maybe, that’s what he thinks I might be.

“Give me my sword.”

He smiled.

“Now.”

Shaking his head, he said, “I’m going to hold on to it.”

“I’m leaving,” Rōkura said. “I want my sword.”

“I will give you your sword at the appropriate time.”

“Tch!”

“Do not be frustrated,” he said, stepping closer. “You must understand my intentions. Momori Kazō is my home after all.”

She was still annoyed, even with that answer. Rōkura ground her teeth and made fists. “Fine—are you going to follow me everywhere I go?”

“If I must.”

“Then keep up.” She turned and began stalking along the path as she passed Ken-sama’s body. The blood that had gushed from him was still red, and she could smell it, yet it contained a dead flavor, one she wasn’t interested in despite being hungry. So now I know I only crave the freshest of blood. That is a relief, at least.

“Where are you going?”

The sound of his voice, strong, intent and many, annoyed her. Not for those reasons, but because he was stubborn—because he wouldn’t give her what belonged to her. “Into the city,” Rōkura said tersely.

“I do not believe that is a good idea.”

She whirled on him. “And why do you say that, swordsman?”

“My name is Shinjiro.”

“Shinjiro…” she said, tasting the name on her mouth. She liked it, even if she didn’t much like him. “Why should I not go into Momori Kazō?”

“That is where Administrator Fujiwarai resides,” Shinjiro said. “He is corrupt—and I think he has a part to play in what happened at the summit. I went there—after you escaped the prison.”

“How you managed to get all the way back up there and then follow Ken-sama is suspicious.”

He smiled. “With very little sleep, it is possible.”

“You look well rested.”

“I assure you, that I am not, but it is nothing a vitality potion cannot cure for a time.”

“And? What did you find at the summit?”

“Not very much, save for a lot of blood.” He glanced off into the trees as they swayed with the breeze. “Most of it had been scrubbed, but there was some left. I believe a ritual happened there.”

Rōkura took a step back.

“Were you a part of it? Did they summon you here?”

She narrowed her eyes. She wanted to smash something. How could he ask her if she was the one summoned, as if she were some kind of demon to be brought from another plain?

“I see that I have offended you.”

She sniffed, deciding not to speak with him any further. At least on that top as she began to make her way along the path. “Do you really have this much time to waste, chasing after me like my milkmaid?”

“A small price to pay, horned one, for the safety of my city. It is my duty.”

“Fine,” she said, not looking back. “And my name is Rōkura.”

“Rōkura,” he repeated. “A beautiful name. Not one I recognize or have ever heard.”

She growled, then stopped, turned to face him. “Are you implying that I am a demon again?”

“There is still evidence of magical power at the summit. I believe Fujiwarai and his associated brought something… or someone, through.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“Give me my sword.”

“No.”

She reached for it, but it was on his back, tucked neatly into his belt. He nudged back, out of her reach. She did not attempt to take the blade again. “I’m going to the city.”

“Why?”

“I’m meeting someone.”

Where was her supporter? Shouldn’t he have found her by now? What use would he be if Ken-sama had killed her? Some supporter he is!

They travelled together through the hills and down the mountain until reaching Momori Kazō proper. The city consisted of many town houses, shops and markets. Most of them were plaster structures with grey-black tile roofs with upturned corners.

The streets were well kept and in good repair the turned off into narrow alleys where town homes and shops were nestled. Between the structures wires hung with white and yellow lanterns.

The city had an undulating shape do to the rolling hills heading downward forward the sea, where another part of the city could be seen perched against a large port where ships were docked and where others sailed in the harbor.

It had been hours, and now midday was upon them. Rōkura stopped at a public fountain and took a sip of water. When she turned, she found Shinjiro standing nearby with a straw hat in his hand. It was not the hat she had taken from before.

“I got you this,” he said. “To…”

“Cover my horns.”

“Hai.”

She snatched it out of his hand and thrust her horns through the top. It helped, but with her pink skin, and her horns still protruding out of the top of the hat—it wasn’t the best disguise.

Even still, it was possible she had painted her skin and fastened a pair of horns to a straw hat. At the very least she would be looked upon as an anomaly or a freak. Better than a monster.

“Are there others like me in this city?”

“Others? Like you?” Shinjiro seemed surprised she was asking. “I have heard of others like you, but I wouldn’t know if they have come here. Momori Kazō is a small port city that doesn’t get very many gaijin from across the sea.”

“And other parts of this nation?”

He nodded. “Surely there are many demihumans in the larger cities, and he capital.”

The capital.

Had Rōkura not been on a quest for revenge, perhaps the capital would be her destination, but she didn’t care for it—not now. Her purpose was to find and kill the ones responsible for her horrible death, and for killing her parents.

If that led her to the capital, then so be it, and if that led her to the most obscure places of this country and even this world, then that was very well, too. She nodded, and realized how hungry she was as she sniffed at the smell of something cooking.

Unable to hid his amusement, he thought Rōkura sniffed about like a hungry lion, or perhaps a dog. She must be very hungry. When he came to the village, he had spoken with the family who caught her in their house stealing food.

Monsters did not steal rice—they killed, they looted. They raped. This girl does not seem like a monster to me, but I am near certain she was brought forth by the Administrator and his unsavory friends. I need to find out more about her.

He smiled broadly. “Are you hungry, Rōkura-kun?”

For a moment she seemed very sheepish. “I don’t have any money.”

“Except what you left back at the prison.”

She nodded again.

“Come, then,” he said. “I will buy you something to eat. It is about time for my midday meal as well.”

She took pause for a moment, not knowing how she felt about him buying her food. But still, she was very hungry, and if a drop of blood landed near her, she thought she might eat the stones it fell upon.

“All right,” she said, accepting his offer.

Like last night, the sound of chopsticks clinking rapidly against the bottom of a ceramic bowl echoed between the swordsman and the oni isekai.

“Hahaha! She sure can eat a lot.”

“Yeah,” Shinjiro said with am embarrassed smile as he scratched the back of his neck. Right now they were the only two customers currently at Botan’s stall. Behind him pots steamed and noodles boiling. Steam and smoke rose from his stall. “Not sure how she packs it all in.”

The wooden platform wasn’t large, but with the outstretched awning and the hanging flags at their backs, it made the stall seem larger, more of a “structure.”

Botan looked at her. “Say, is that your real skin?”

Rōkura cut a glance at him and shook her head as she stuffed her face. She was so hungry and didn’t realize the extent of how famished she was until she had begun eating. Now this was her third bowl, and she was nearly finished with it.

A cat with golden fur jumped up onto the table and meowed.

“I didn’t know you had a cat, Botan,” said Shinjiro. “What’s his name?”

“He’s not mine—he just jumped up here earlier today. He’s a friendly little guy, but I have no idea where he came from.”

With a smile, Shinjiro petted the cat, but he didn’t seem to like it, and scampered off as Rōkura watched. As she finished the dish of rice and meat, she realized she was thankful for Shinjiro’s company, and that he was feeding her.

She still wanted her sword though. If this isn’t a stroke of Persistent Bad Luck, then I don’t know—

Something caught in her throat.

“Hngh!” Oh no—it was stuck. “Hnnngh!”

“Are you…” began Shinjro.

“Hey, is your friend choking?”

“Are you all right?”

“Hnnnngh!” she croaked, her cheeks full of the rice as she pounded on her chest with a closed fist, her eyes wide and worried.

A concerned look fell over Shinjiro’s face, but she had no time for that. He pushed a ceramic of water toward Rōkura, but knowing that would simply make it worse if she drank it down, shook her head and stood up from her chair, stumbled out of the stall.

Rōkura bent over. “Hnngh!” It was stuck, lodged like a stone fitted perfectly into a drain pipe. Is this how she was going to go? Like this?! “HHHnnnnnnnNNNGGHH!!!”

“Oh gods, I’ve killed you,” Shinjiro said. “Someone—someone help!”

The cat jumped down and suddenly became a short, thin man with golden hair. Closing his hand and changing his stance into a martial pose, he bellowed, “Fist of the Gods!”

The impact bent Rōkura, lifting her off her feet as she went flying onto the ground. She landed, flipped end over and and slammed into the stone base of a tall structure looming over them.

“Bluueeehhh!” the spat, the food flying out of her mouth. With a quick gasp she coughed, sucked in as much air as she could and breathed desperately as Shinjiro watched, his eyes wide and his sudden alarm rising as he glanced toward this newcomer. His hand went to the hilt of his blade.

“I assure you, sir,” the small fellow said, his tone somewhat indignant and nasal, “that there is no need to draw your blade. I was simply assisting my associate.” He gestured toward Rōkura who was still coughing and hacking from her near death experience.

Glancing at her, Shinjiro saw that the girl was now breathing and his concerned lessened. Still, he frowned. “Your… your associate?”

“Indeed,” he said, squaring his shoulders pompously as he stalked toward Rōkura.

“But!” said Shinjiro, pointing at his back. “You were a cat!”

“What? I know nothing of the sort.”

Rōkura watched as the young man approached and forced herself to her knees with a grunt. “Did you… did you have to hit me so hard?” She coughed several times as he offered her his hand. Her cheeks might have reddened with embarrassment, but she was all out of embarrassment.

Fighting naked seems to do that to me…

“Forgive me, oni-san,” the man—boy?—whatever, said. “But I had to make sure whatever was lodged in your throat came out. I do hope you will forgive me?”

Rōkura nodded. “Anything is better than choking to death.” Taking his hand, she stood, and found that she was head and shoulders taller than this thin man, who looked up at her with sea-blue eyes, sharp and intelligent. His face was shrewd, and yet friendly, though there seemed to be a business-like air about him.

“Thank you for”—she coughed into her hand—“for helping me.”

He pushed his spectacles further up his nose. “I can help you any time you require it of me, Rōkura—that is why I am here.”

She stared at him, feeling suddenly dumb.

“Do you two… know each other?” Shinjiro asked.

“I have never seen him before,” Rōkura said, but she had an idea of who he was. “Who sent you?”

“Ogai-sama, of course.” He spread his arms with a smile. “I am your supporter, oni-san.”

“Oh!” she said, her eyes widening and her heart beating a little faster. “I have been waiting for you all day.”

The little man glanced up into the sky. “It is midday now, so now ‘all day,’ Rōkura.”

“You know my name?”

“Well of course, I do,” he said. “Do you think Ogai would send me looking for you without even knowing your name?” The deity’s words echoes inside of his head. “She’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, Hans, but she’s a good girl.”

“Well… no,” she said, glancing about as she scratched the back of her neck. This little fellow was quite small, and Rōkura was hoping someone with a little more… battle experience might be useful. That punch had helped—that punch had hurt!—but it wasn’t that bad.

“Precisely!” he nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose again. “Well then, shall we be off?”

“Where are you going?” Shinjiro asked. “You know I will not allow you to go anywhere without me?”

With a sigh, Rōkura glanced at Shinjiro and felt a subtle pang of guilt touch her conscience. He wasn’t a bad man. He had clothed her, and he had even tried to stop Ken-sama from killing her. Shinjiro had even fed her! I should not be so impatient with him.

“Who is this man?” asked the supporter. “A friend of yours, Rōkura?”

“Mmmm,” she mused. “Well, he’s not a ‘friend’ exactly, but…”

The supporter turned to him. “Then scram.”

“Hey—I’m not going anywhere!”

The little man sighed. He was quite young, Rōkura realized, perhaps somewhere near her own age. “What is your name?”

“My name?” he asked, seemingly confused. “Oh,” he laughed. “I quite forgot to tell you, now didn’t I? Well, my name is Hans Bellefeuille.”

“Hans,” she said slowly, “Bellefeuille.” Shinjiro did the same, frowning over it. “I suppose I did not need to hear your name to know you are a foreigner. Tell me, did Rōkura come through a portal at the summit above the city?”

“Eh?” Hans chirped, his sudden calm resolve melting into a puddle of burnt out wax. “How do you—“

“Quiet,” Rōkura said, her tone stern. “Do not tell him too much.”

“Why shouldn’t he?” asked Shinjiro. “I’m only trying to understand who you are, and whether you’re a threat to my city.”

Hans wheezed frightfully, his gaze shifty.

“Keep your cool,” Rōkura said, surprised that his composure had shattered so easily. He’s not as well put together as my first impression would have me seem. Ogai—what have you gotten me into?

“Ahem!” Hans nodded. “Yes, you are quite right. I will say no more on the topic of…” he waved his hand to dismiss Shinjiro question. “So, not a friend, but… a companion, no less. Very well.” Then his tone became pointed and business-like. “Our first order of business is to establish our priorities.”

Rōkura nodded. “Mm.”

“Priorities?” asked Shinjiro incredulously. “Who is this little boy?”

Hans nudged his glasses. “I’ll have you know, that I may look young, but I assure you that I am no ‘little boy,’ whatever you think.” Then a smile came to his face, a smile that, had Rōkura had a negative relationship with him, would have been quite infuriating.

She was glad he was on her side.

“Is there somewhere we can speak that is a little more… private?” asked Hans. “Away from prying ears.”

“I know a place!” said Shinjiro happily.

Hans looked at him with a skeptically raised eyebrow. “Is that so?” Turning to Rōkura he asked, “Do you trust him, oni-san?”

That was… a good question. Rōkura looked at Shinjiro, at his honest eyes and his good intentioned smile. He could have called his friends down on me, like that administrator had called Ken-sama down upon me. I guess I can trust him. “I do,” she said with a nod.

“Very well,” Hans said, and he dusted off his pristine shoulder. “Just know, that if you turn out to be someone who pits his chances against my oni-san—I will scratch your eyes out.” He smiled again.

“Hey,” Shinjiro said. “I have no intention of doing anything against Rōkura, unless it turns out that she’s a danger to my city. In that case, you can try.”

“Hmph,” sniffed Hans. Then sharply he turned to Rōkura. “It seems even with my high luck you’re still suffering from your Persistent Bad Luck.”

She nodded.

“I believe that without my presence, that kernel of rice would have done you in completely, dear oni-san.” He said the words with a downward intonation as he sighed.

“Really?!” she asked, her face cracking into pure panic as her heart started screaming in her chest. She bent lower to meet him face to face. “Are you certain?”

“Well, as certain as one ever is when luck is involved.”

“Or bad luck,” said Shinjiro.

“Indeed.”

“Wait!” Shinjiro said quickly. “Did you say she has a Persistent Bad Luck stat?”

“I used just those words, swordsman.”

“Whoa—I mean, I’m sorry Rōkura-kun—but I’ve heard of that stat before, I didn’t think it was real. It’s always been something you…”

“Laugh at?” she finished for him.

Weakly, he shrugged, confirming her words. With a heavy sigh, she said, “Let’s go somewhere where we won’t be overheard. Shinji, take us.”

“Shinji?” he asked skeptically.

“Yeah,” she said with a shrug. “Why not?”

He smiled. “No reason. Come on, you too.”

“Please,” Hans said. “Do lead the way, good sir.”

Thunder rumbled overhead as the skies quickly became dark and grey and black, the cold air of the storm blowing in and causing a chill to run up under Rōkura’s shabby cloak.

But in this narrow alley, the wind didn’t blow so much, so the oni was thankful for that. Behind them men in breaches folded up to above their ankles loitered, their tunics held up by knotted cords of fabric.

“Is this a bad part of time?” Rōkura asked.

“It would seem so,” said Hans broadly.

“There are many places like this in Momori Kazō,” Shinjiro said. Glancing back toward Rōkura he added, “I should not speak out against my betters, but I believe much of this is due to the Administrator’s corruption.”

“Not surprising,” said Hans.

“Just how corrupt is he?” Rōkura asked, wondering what Shinjiro knew about him. The man’s corruption seemed to be the reason why he doubted Rōkura’s culpability in those murdered on the road.

“Very,” Shinjiro said. “I will tell you more about him later. For now, let’s get out of this alleyway.”

“All right.”

Once they came out onto the main streets after traversing winding alleyways that curt sharply into square blocks throughout the city, Shinjiro sighed. “I’m glad to be out of there.”

“One might wonder why we passed through in the first place,” said Hans, and he glanced toward Rōkura with a look. She wasn’t sure what it meant.

“Hey—are you accusing me of something cat man? If you are, you should say it to my face.”

“Oh no…” he said. “It was simply an observation, poor boy—one that begs an interesting question—nn-hng-hng-hng!”

Rōkura frowned, listening to Hans’ subtle little cackle. It frightened her, but also reminded her so much of Ogai-sama.

“I took you through that alley,” Shinjiro said defensively, “so that we could avoid the city guard barracks. You know they’re looking for a pink-skinned woman with horns, don’t you?”

Hans lifted a skeptical eyebrow, then he seemed to shrug it away. “Very well, sword man. I meant nothing by it.”

“To the hells you, did, cat face.”

“All right!” Rōkura said. “That is enough arguing. We have things to do—and I have to…” Shinjiro’s expression perked up, but Rōkura trailed off, leaving the part about needing to kill someone out of it. She didn’t know how he would react if she started talking about assassinating people in the city. Gods—how am I going to deal with that?

The street was well shaded from the sky, as the overhanging roofs with wooden brackets shielded it from their view, which was good, because Rōkura didn’t feel like getting caught out in the rain.

Shinjiro’s gaze went from Rōkura past her up the street. He nudged his chin subtly. “Look.”

“Ah,” Hans said as Rōkura did as the samurai told her. “We have friends?”

“It seems so,” Shinjiro said.

Sighing heavily, Rōkura growled as she cracked and popped her knuckles in her fist. “I can handle these twerps.”

Hans giggled. “My… little oni-san, your attitude is nothing like Ogai-sama told me it was.”

She turned. “What? What did he tell you about me?”

“Well,” he said with a shrug. “Perhaps I should tell you all about that after we play catch with our playmate’s heads?”

“Watch out,” Shinjiro said.

Rōkura turned around, saw how the swordsman back-stepped, keeping his left side exposed to four newcomers—all men with shabby clothes and clubs. One of them was rather large, and in his hand he held a large knife with a wicked looking curve.

“Rōkura?” Hans said.

“What is it?” she asked, taking hold of her— “Nngh!” I don’t have my sword!

“Why don’t you let us handle this one, yes?” Hans suggested, his voice all silk and honey.

“Um… Okay,” she said.

“You really think you can handle these guys, cat man?”

“Oh, I’m quite certain, swordsman.”

“You better not leave me hanging when I need your help.”

“Oh,” Hans said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, a narrow shrewd look coming over his eyes, one of malicious enjoyment. “You won’t need any help whatsoever.”

He turned, put his hands in his pockets. “Well, boys—are you coming?”

They laughed, moving forward. “Hey, little man,” the one on the left said. “You sure you wanna fight us?”

“Yeah,” the other added. “Why not just hand over your money now so we don’t have to beat it out of you.”

“The only think you will be beating out of me,” Hans said, “is my need for a quick fix of violence.”

A shiver ran up Rōkura’s back. “Hans!” she said, her voice a warning. “Do not kill them.”

“Kill them?” He sighed. “Oh, all right. Ogai-sama did tell me to obey you.”

“Who is this Ogai-sama?!” Shinjiro barked.

“Later,” Rōkura said. “Let’s deal with this problem first.”

“All right!” he said, nodding firmly.

Hans sighed. “Six brutes coming out of the alley to cut us off from both directions? How cliché. And they’re such low level, too.”

“Low level?” Rōkura asked. “Wait—how can you tell?”

“Hmm,” Hans hummed with great satisfaction and amusement. It seemed the young oni-san had much to learn—that was quite fine with him. “Can you sense their auras?”

“I… I think so?”

“You can feel their power,” Shinjiro said, “but how is it that you do not know this, as powerful as you are?”

“Um…” Rōkura said, feeling a slight heat come to her cheeks, but her words ended there.

From the side, Shinjiro glanced toward the horned girl, making sure not to let his view odd of the brutes on his side of the street. There were four of them, and even lower level opponents could pose a danger if they swarmed you. She’s hiding something. How can she not know how to sense the aura level of her opponents? She must be from another world!

As the two thugs came forward on Rōkura’s side, Hans laughed delightedly, his mirth squeezing out of his mouth like more of an excited squeal than anything else. “Be careful, now.”

“Listen little man, just step aside and give us your money—this is your last warning.”

“Why can’t they sense your level, Hans?”

“You try to sense his level,” Shinjiro said, cutting in. “Go on.”

“All right,” Rōkura said with a nod. She tried to concentrate, but her attention fell when Shinjiro grunted, moving out of range of the first brute who struck at him, but like the ebbing of the seas, he lunged right back as the thug yanked his weapon back.

The swordsman took hold of that weapon and put an uppercut punch into the bottom of his jaw, the power of which sent the back of his head snapping back as his body was lifted off the ground.

He arced through the air and came back down on his back with a solid slap against the stones and didn’t move anymore. When the others moved in, Shinjiro flinched, bristling with a crisp, “Osu!”

As the thugs narrowed their eyes, they moved to surround him, an instinctual tactic of street fighters and thugs who worked in groups to take down stronger opponents, and in fact, weaker one’s too. Their fighting style was cowardly and without honor.

Like the wolves. Can Shinjiro take them? “Be careful!”

Smiling, Shinjiro watched his opponents as he stood between Rōkura and the three others. “Not to worry. I can handle these three men.” He lifted his hands in a partial pose and waited for them to strike.

“Well!” Hans cried with great enthusiasm. “Come and strike me.”

The two thugs grinned like vultures, and it was then that Hans sensed the weak and pathetic aura of a seventh fighter coming up on the roof above. There’s no way you can surprise me. Go ahead! Strike!

Glancing up, Rōkura thought she felt… something up above. When the man came into view with a dagger in his hand her heart jumped in her throat and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickled. “Hans!” she cried, “look out!”

The newcomer flipped the knife and caught it by the blade, and with a deft strike, tossed it. “Hnnyah!” The blade cut through the air, twirling end over end.

Hans took a step forward as he reached behind himself, his forefinger and thumb closing down on that blade, stopping it in midair.

Then his gaze flicked up toward the roof as the surprised look from the thug mirrored that of the two others on the street. With a fluid motion he returned that blade. The hilt hit the thug in the head with a solid sound and his body went limp and fell into the street between him and the two others.

Their eyes widened even more as they backed away in pure fear and terror of their target.

“No, no, nooo,” Hans said, and he lunged forward. The two brutes screamed, turned to run, but Hans rushed up to them with quick speed, jumped and lashed his shiny shoes forward, kicking both of them in the back of the legs. They lost balance and fell, but before they could hit the paving stones, Hans shunted his palms down, hitting both men in the chest simultaneously.

They slammed into the ground with heavy grunts while the force of his blow sent him higher in the air where he turned and landed gracefully on the road, his shoes sliding with a mild leather-on-polished-stone sound.

“Ha!” he cried triumphantly. “Easy.”

With a gasp of surprised, Rōkura smiled, then turned as Shinjiro dealt with his opponents. There were three left and they darted in, swinging their clubs at him. Knowing she shouldn’t feel this way, she worried for his safety.

Jumping back and landed out of reach, Shinjiro said, “I have had enough of you two.” He drew his sword and shunted forward, bending his knee to give himself more reach as he lashed out with his sword. Multiple flashes of his blade later, their clubs were reduced to short pieces of well-cut wood in their hands as the remainder of their weapons clattered to the ground noisily.

The brutes looked at the tiny pieces in their hands with surprise and terror. Shinjiro let slip a wry smile.

“Come on!” one of them said, and he ran. The two others wasted no time in following their ally into the alleys. The others grunted and groaned and ran off, or hobbled. In the case of the man who fell into the street, he was still unmoving.

Rōkura thought him dead, and she didn’t care. He had tried to kill Hans. Servers him right.

Standing back up straight, Shinjiro sheathed his katana in a single solid motion as Rōkura’s eyes clung greedily to her own blade tucked behind his sash. She was surprised it hadn’t cut him yet.

“Well,” Hans said, coming up behind her as she dusted off his hands. “That was rather amusing.”

Thunder rumbled across the skies as Rōkura nodded. “Mm.”

People poked their heads out of their windows. A boy yelled something excitedly until his father hushed him, forcing him back indoors. “We should leave,” Shinjiro said, “before the City Watch finds us causing trouble. Come—follow me.”

He broke right and scurried down the same alley their attackers had escaped down, but instead of going deeper into the warrens, Shinjiro led them back to an upper street where plenty if people scurried, moving to get out of the weather before the fact.

“I say,” Hans muttered. “Now why don’t I go find us a place to stay, Rōkura, while you go ahead and take care of a little errand for Ogai-sama. How does that sound, hmm?”

“Oh—uh—all right,” she said. “What do you want me to do?”

“Are you sure?” Shinjiro asked with surprise. “Should we be splitting up at this time?”

“I’m not sure what you think ‘we’ even is, samurai, but yes.” Hans sighed with boredom. “Rain doesn’t suit me.”

“Hmph,” Rōkura scoffed.

“Now, now. No need to sass me, young lady—it’s a very simple task. And besides, it’s not me assigning this to you, it’s our lord Ogai.”

“Mm. Right!”

“What is it?” Shinjiro asked.

“You do know that it is I who am the young lady’s supporter, not you… friend.”

“Listen…” Shinjiro said slowly, turning his shoulders slightly. “My interest is only with Rōkura. I promised her that I would accompany her.”

“To keep her safe?”

There was a long pause. “If she’s innocent, yes.”

Hans chortled, and Rōkura glanced between them in turn, worried that they might start lashing out at one another physically. “Hans,” she said, feeling uncertain. Though he was supposed to be her helper—her supporter, she wondered if he wasn’t really her babysitter. “I want you to include Shinjiro in this. He helped me. Before, I mean, with Ken-sama.”

“Ken who?”

“A dangerous blade master send to take her to the Momori Koza’s administrator,” Shinjiro said. “Something is afoot—and I don’t like it.”

Hans glanced about surreptitiously. “Fine,” he said, pushing up his glasses. “Not here. Let us do what I have already suggested. You take care of Ogai-sama’s errand, and I will procure for us a place where we can stay, a base of operations if you will.”

“All right,” Rōkura said with a nod. “What does Ogai-sama want from me?”

Hans smirked. “You are to sneak into Administrator Fuujiwarai’s estate and find evidence of his misdeeds here in the city.”

“WHAAAT?!” yelped Shinjiro. “You better be joking, cat man!”

“I am sincere as a severed windpipe, Master Samurai.”

“Impossible!” he said, cutting the air with his hand. “I will not allow it. I am a samurai of Daimyo—“

“Yes, yes,” Hans said impatiently, “Daimyo whose-his-face—I am certain.” He smoke behind his hand. “Rōkura-san, is this swordsman to be trusted?”

“I…” she wasn’t certain. Rōkura hadn’t been expecting Hans to blurt out such a ludicrous plan. “Let’s… just listen to what Ogai-sama wants before we make any decision, yes?” she glanced to Shinjiro, whose face was a mask of careful preparedness, his eyes narrowed and his body tense.

Deep inside his throat, the swordsman growled. I should have known they would be up to no good. Sneak into Administrator Fujiwarai’s estate? It’s suicide!

Then he blinked, realizing what a hypocrite he was. His chief concern was with the danger, not with the action itself. Still, Shinjiro didn’t like it—not at all. He nodded solemnly as thick raindrops began to fall from the dark sky.

Subtly, Rōkura let out a long breath. “All right.” She turned her head to her shrewd little supporter. “Go on, Hans. Tell us the rest.”

“Uh—“ he hesitated with a shrug. “In the rain?!”

“Hai!” growled Shinjiro.

“Oh, you would like that very much, wouldn’t you, you sweaty—“

“That is enough!” Rōkura snapped. “Hans, we will change the plan. Right now, we find a place to stay where we are dry and where we will not be overheard. Then we will discuss what is to come next.”

A long pause ensued.

“Very well,” Hans finally said with an easy air and another shrug that feigned an attitude of uncaring. “As long as he can abide by such civility, I am certain that I can no doubt keep my composure.” Ugh! This lout is like a pair of trousers too tight in the crotch!

“Shinjiro?” asked Rōkura.

He nodded. “Mm. Fine.”

Rōkura let out a relieved sigh, but she decided to keep her guard up in case these two decided to start cutting each other to pieces. Ogai-sama sends me a supporter, and all he wants to do is argue with Shinjiro. And what of the samurai? He’s watching me… He’s suspicious and we’ve already let loose a huge secret—what am I supposed to do?!